THE LONELY LADY 
 
 OF 
 
 GROSVENOR SQUARE 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. HENRY DE LA PASTURE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "PETER'S MOTHER," "THE MAN FROM AMERICA,' 
 "A TOY TRAGEDY," Etc., Etc. 
 
 Though I strive anew 
 Shadows to pursue, 
 Shadows vain, 
 Thou 'It remain 
 Within my heart. 
 
 John Oxenford. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 
 1907
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & Co. 
 
 1906 
 
 "Cbc micJ:erboc&er prees, *Aew fiorit
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTRR PAOB 
 
 I. THE LONELY LADY ..... i 
 
 II. THE PEDIGREE . . . . . .16 
 
 III. THE MINIATURES ..... 34 
 
 IV. THE FUNERAL ...... 56 
 
 V. THE WILL 65 
 
 VI. THE NURSERIES . . . . .78 
 
 VII. THE CALL 92 
 
 VIII. THE CALLER . . . . . .112 
 
 IX. THE MOUNTAIN FARM .... 136 
 
 X. CECILIA . . . . . .159 
 
 XI. THE CONCERT ...... 182 
 
 XII. THE PARTY IN THE PICTURE GALLERY . 197 
 
 XIII. THE LITTLE DINNER . ... 209 
 
 XIV. THE DUKE 229 
 
 XV. THE BUSH DESERT ..... 249 
 
 XVI. THE DUCHESS 263 
 
 XVII. THE TELEGRAM 286 
 
 XVIII. THE LONELY LADY STILL MORE LONELY . 302 
 XIX. THE LAST LETTER . . . . , 319 
 
 XX. LE MARQUIS DE COURSET .... 332 
 
 XXI. ANNE-MARIE ...... 346 
 
 XXII. MADAME LA MARQUISE . . . 359 
 XXIII. THE LONELY LADY LONELY NO MORE . .376 
 
 ifl 
 
 2229143
 
 The Lonely Lady 
 Of Grosvenor Square 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 *'It ?s delightful to breathe the air, 
 Breathed by people in Grosvenor Square!" 
 
 Popular Song. 
 
 DECEMBER in London, 1902. Fog had prevailed 
 throughout the early part of the day; now it had 
 lifted, but a dismal rain was falling upon the coal- 
 black stems of the lilac, the sooty branches of 
 the plane, and the palings which divided them 
 from the muddy pavement and muddier street. 
 
 A benevolent, bearded policeman, secure in 
 mackintosh cape, paced slowly and solidly past 
 the windows of 99 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 Within, a lonely lady sat at luncheon. 
 
 The table was spread with massive Georgian 
 silver and Crown Derby china. Forced lilies of 
 
 i
 
 2 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 the valley, red roses prematurely called into 
 being, and clinging garlands of smilax curling 
 in and out of the dessert dishes, added poetry to 
 the prose of wealth's display. 
 
 The servants were not permitted to wait at 
 luncheon. 
 
 The lonely lady left the brown chops to simmer 
 over a plated furnace on the sideboard, and only 
 looked at the glazed tongue and frilled ham re- 
 posing on beds of glittering aspic jelly. 
 
 This was not because she lacked appetite, 
 but because she was afraid to broach them. 
 
 She helped herself timidly to boiled sole and 
 mashed potato. She ate a little maraschino 
 jelly in a furtive and guilty manner, and ended 
 her meal by taking a peach, and some crumbs 
 of a fine old Stilton cheese, in the wrong order. 
 
 She drank first water, stealthily and as though 
 she were doing something wrong; and then, with 
 frightened gulps of triumph, a small glass of light 
 tawny port. 
 
 When she rose from the table she rang the bell 
 so gently that the responding tinkle must have 
 been very thin and uncertain; and she walked 
 across the big, solemn dining-room, over the 
 parquet floor of the square hall, past the porter's 
 empty chair, and into the morning-room. 
 
 Here she sat down; alone, as usual. 
 
 The room was decorated in strict accord with 
 modern taste and convention.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 3 
 
 The ceiling was heavily incrusted with white 
 ornament, like unto a wedding cake. Panels of 
 green brocade bore old gilt candelabra on the walls. 
 The narrow Adam's mantelshelf held Louis Seize 
 candlesticks, a Dresden clock, and Sevres vases, 
 beneath the life-size Romney portrait which 
 occupied the space usually assigned to a mirror. 
 
 The fender rose in wild ornament of mimic 
 flames made in solid gilt metal, around the white 
 tiled fireplace. The moss green carpet bore 
 heavy impress of a suite of Louis Seize furniture, 
 gilt and brocaded. 
 
 Hothouse palms, rose-wreathed hangings, and 
 the curved legs of enamelled tables lent graceful 
 lines to pleasant spaces. Silver vases bore 
 fragrant burdens of curled chrysanthemums, 
 golden and bronze. A malachite pillar supported 
 a tree-fern, and masses of azalea, pearl-petalled 
 and scarlet-stained, bloomed in unnatural pro- 
 fusion in a shady corner so quickly drooping 
 so easily renewed ; because the owner of the house 
 in Grosvenor Square was very rich, and had a 
 great love for flowers. 
 
 The lonely lady had nothing to do with the 
 decoration of the room, and flowers which dis- 
 dained times and seasons, and bloomed for gold 
 alone, bewildered as much as they pleased her. 
 
 She sat on the sofa and looked at them; rose 
 and walked to the window and looked at the rain 
 and the promenading policeman; returned to the
 
 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 sofa and looked at the little empty idle hands in 
 her lap. 
 
 She would gladly have taken down one of the 
 volumes bound in morocco and bright with gold 
 tooling from the shelves behind the glass doors 
 of the Chippendale bookcases, which lurked in 
 the alcoves on either side of the fireplace, but 
 alas, she had tried the doors, and found them 
 securely locked. 
 
 Upon the low occasional table by the side of the 
 rose-wreathed couch lay a copy of the Book of 
 Beauty, published in the early forties. 
 
 It opened of itself at a steel engraving of the 
 portrait of Miss Marney of Orsett, and represented 
 a young lady seated upon a balcony beside a 
 marble pillar, playing the harp. 
 
 Miss Marney wore a flowing muslin gown 
 looped with roses, ringlets depended on either 
 side of a handsome face, archly smiling over a bare 
 shoulder; her gloves, lace handkerchief, and a 
 stiff little bouquet were carefully disposed in the 
 foreground. 
 
 The lonely lady had looked at the picture many 
 times already, and read the verses facing it, 
 which began : 
 
 Fair girl, and hast thou left the festive scene, 
 
 To warble as a nightingale without 
 The noble halls of thine ancestral home. 
 
 Where thou art queen of frolic, dance, and rout ? 
 
 But she read them again with a momentary
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 5 
 
 renewal of interest, before she put the book back 
 in its accustomed place. 
 
 The crackling of the fire within the room, and 
 the distant clip-clop and jingle of hansoms out- 
 side, broke the silence ; there was straw laid down 
 in the street beneath the windows, because the 
 owner of the house was ill. 
 
 The lonely lady looked up at the Romney 
 portrait, and sighed childishly. 
 
 "I wish you could speak to me." 
 
 Her name was Jeanne-Marie-Charlotte de Cour- 
 set; but the gilt plate on the frame of the Romney 
 portrait bore the name of her English great- 
 grandfather, 
 
 Lt. Colonel Harry Marney, R.E., 
 of Orsett Hall, near Bath. 
 
 Born 1771. Died 1851. 
 
 The portrait must have been painted when 
 Harry Marney was about twenty years old. He 
 wore a grey powdered wig ending in a pigtail; a 
 red coat with black velvet revers and gold epau- 
 lettes; a waistcoat and knee breeches of white 
 satin, and a snowy neck-cloth. 
 
 The scene represented a battle-field, and the 
 young face, oval and delicate as a woman's, stood 
 boldly out against a background of lowering 
 clouds and grey smoke. 
 
 Straight black brows met above dark blue eyes 
 and an aquiline nose ; a firmly closed mouth with 
 slightly upturned corners gave a stern, almost
 
 6 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 satirical expression to the proud, handsome face. 
 
 " It is no use looking so brave and so scornful," 
 said Jeanne, "you know you were never in a 
 battle in all your long life." 
 
 Then she relented and apologised. 
 
 "But I daresay you would have been if you 
 could, for you are very like Louis. So like that 
 it almost makes me cry to look at you, great- 
 grandpapa Harry. I suppose promotion was very 
 quick in your time for gentlemen of fortune, 
 or perhaps the inscription was put a long time 
 after the picture was painted. Surely you could 
 not have been a Colonel at that age. I must 
 ask Aunt Caroline." 
 
 The only surviving daughter of Colonel Harry 
 lay upstairs on her sick bed. She was now 
 eighty years old, as the original of the portrait 
 had been when death had summoned him from the 
 hunting-field to take his place in the family vault. 
 
 Jeanne had been nearly three weeks in the 
 house of her great-aunt, but it seemed to her 
 almost as though as many years must have elapsed 
 since she had left the farm on the borders of 
 Wales, where she and her twin brother Louis had 
 been brought up. 
 
 She was used to loneliness. Coed-Ithel lay 
 among the mountains, more than two miles from 
 the nearest village, and the roads were bad and 
 distances great for travellers to town and market.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 7 
 
 The homestead belonged to her bachelor uncle, 
 a hard-working farmer, who was generally out of 
 doors, and who mostly fell asleep if forced, from 
 any cause, to remain within; so that his niece 
 could scarcely look to him for companionship, 
 even if he had been as congenial to her as he was 
 kind. 
 
 She had not seen her brother Louis, who was 
 now in South Africa, since he had left home to 
 join his regiment in India, nearly five years ago. 
 
 Thus she had grown accustomed to a certain 
 solitude; but the loneliness of the hillside is not 
 the loneliness of a large house in the midst of a 
 crowd of strangers. 
 
 A restless impatience of the conditions which 
 surrounded her began to pervade her empty days 
 and her wakeful nights. 
 
 She was five and twenty years old, but in con- 
 sequence of her forlornness, and the roundness 
 of her little face, she looked much younger. Her 
 sojourn in town had not yet succeeded in dim- 
 ming the beautiful red bloom which the air of 
 her native mountains had lent her complexion. 
 The clear blue whites of her soft brown eyes, 
 fringed with long black lashes, betrayed the 
 perfect healthfulness of their owner. Dimples 
 lurked on the round chin, and in the round 
 young cheeks; but there was no smile to bring 
 them forth from their hiding-places ; the corners 
 of the pretty mouth drooped, and expressed as
 
 8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 much sadness as such a childish face could hold. 
 
 Jeanne had seen her aunt but once during the 
 last three weeks. Upon the day of her arrival 
 she had been sent for to Miss Marney's own 
 apartment to which that lady had been confined 
 by illness for some time past, although she had 
 not then yet taken to her bed. 
 
 Her first view of Miss Caroline presented to 
 her a tall and dignified figure, erect in an elbow 
 chair, and clad in a flowing gown of grey satin, 
 with flounces of Honiton lace; upon which couch 
 of luxury her favourite dog, a little Yorkshire 
 terrier, was very calmly reposing. 
 
 A lace cap, with pale pink velvet bows, crowned 
 Miss Caroline's white hair, parted above black 
 brows which met across a hawk nose, and blue 
 eyes still piercing still blackly fringed. 
 
 Jeanne had trembled not a little before this 
 stately apparition, and her obvious alarm and ad- 
 miration had impressed her grand-aunt favourably. 
 
 But of the interview she had but a vague re- 
 collection, for between terror and fatigue she could 
 scarce bring herself to answer the few formal 
 questions put to her concerning her journey. 
 
 Miss Marney would hardly have permitted an 
 earthquake far less the arrival of a humble 
 stranger niece to derange one of the established 
 customs of her regular existence. It was the 
 hour for double-dummy, and Jeanne was therefore
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 9 
 
 requested to establish herself in an arm-chair in 
 the background, and given a prolonged oppor- 
 tunity for recovering her composure, during 
 her aunt's nightly recreation of card-playing. 
 
 As the clock struck nine, Mrs. Pyke, the house- 
 keeper, entered, dressed in black broch6, which 
 was curiously patterned with violet flowers in 
 accordance with an ancient fashion ; also she wore 
 a black lace cap upon her head, and a long gold 
 watch-chain about her neck. 
 
 The maid, Dunham, had already set forth the 
 card-table, and Mrs. Pyke, pausing in the doorway 
 to make a curtsey, glided decorously into her 
 place, and gathered the cards into slightly palsied 
 hands, veiled by black mittens. 
 
 Pyke had entered her ninetieth year, but it had 
 not yet occurred to her that she was too old to 
 fulfil her duties. 
 
 She was a strangely silent person, and her 
 length of service did not inspire her to abate one 
 iota of her perpetual awestruck deference to her 
 employer, though nothing could have exceeded 
 Miss Marneys graciousness to her oldest de- 
 pendent. 
 
 The rubber had been played in silence ; Jeanne 
 scarcely daring to breathe. She noted with 
 wonder and delight the magnificence of her 
 grand-aunt's appearance, and the stateliness of 
 her bearing. She had indeed never seen any one 
 like her; every time Miss Maraey tossed her head,
 
 io THE LONELY LADY 
 
 and this was a favourite gesture oft repeated, 
 Jeanne thrilled responsively. She practised the 
 movement afterwards before her looking-glass 
 in private, and was disgusted at her own inability 
 to produce double chins in rapid succession. 
 
 The scene interested her deeply: the card-table, 
 lighted with green-shaded candles, struck her with 
 pleasant dismay. 
 
 Her Non -conformist uncle at Coed-Ithel called 
 cards the devil's books; and she had never seen 
 this class of literature before. 
 
 She felt almost as guilty as though she were 
 being called upon to assist at a witch's orgy, 
 instead of an old lady's innocent rubber, as she 
 watched the housekeeper's shrivelled black figure, 
 and dim spectacled eyes, peering at the cards 
 held in her mittened hands. She observed with 
 interest the small sour smile on Mrs. Pyke's 
 sunken mouth when her mistress condescended 
 to put an ace on her king, and heard her faint 
 clack of apology when she secured the odd 
 trick for herself. 
 
 Jeanne wondered why both the old servants 
 affected violet as their only decoration, and came 
 to the conclusion that it must be because they 
 thought it the most respectful colour for servants 
 to wear, next to unrelieved black. 
 
 Dunham, another silent witness of the game, had 
 been interested only in the flush on Miss Marney's 
 face, and the stertorous difficult breathing which
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE n 
 
 was painfully audible in the heavily curtained 
 double-windowed room. 
 
 The rubber was cut short by some astounding 
 coups and a timely revoke, on the part of Mrs. 
 Pyke, in deference to private signals from Dunham, 
 who was seated a little behind her mistress; 
 when it was over another time-honoured cere- 
 mony was gone through. A glass of madeira 
 was poured out very solemnly, and presented 
 to the aged housekeeper, as a recompense and 
 refreshment after her labours. 
 
 Pyke received this mark of favour with peren- 
 nial surprise and gratitude; venturing to express 
 a humble wish for Miss Marney's good health 
 before she swallowed the wine, and making a 
 second curtsey before she retired finally from the 
 apartment. 
 
 Jeanne, too, had been dismissed but with a 
 gracious smile, an intimation that she should 
 in future address her relative as Aunt Caroline, 
 rather than as Aunt Marney and a promise 
 that an early interview should be accorded in 
 the morning. 
 
 During the night, however, a great bustle and 
 commotion arose in the old house, of which little 
 Jeanne, sleeping soundly after her journey, and 
 forgotten by the terrified domestics, knew nothing. 
 
 She learnt next day that her grand-aunt was very 
 ill, and that she had had some kind of a stroke 
 or seizure. Dunham was reticent concerning
 
 12 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 details, but she explained that Jeanne must not 
 go to Miss Marney's room unless she was sent 
 for ; and Jeanne, unaccustomed to independent ac- 
 tion of any kind (for she had been always sub- 
 ject to authority), had acquiesced as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 During the weeks that followed, she had 
 moped unquiet, alone, and disconsolate; poring 
 over the newspapers for hours, rather in hopes 
 of finding her brother's name in the South African 
 intelligence, than because she was particularly 
 interested in the general news of the day; afraid 
 of venturing forth alone into the unfamiliar streets ; 
 choked by the fog, depressed by the weather, 
 and hourly expectant of the summons to her 
 aunt's bedside. 
 
 The long afternoon wore away, and at half- 
 past four the tea was brought in by Hewitt the 
 butler, and William the Irish footman. William 
 was still a footman, though forty summers had 
 passed lightly over his carroty head and freckled 
 face; for his twinkling eyes, snub nose, and wide 
 smiling mouth belied all his efforts to emulate 
 the serious dignity of his superior, and debarred 
 him for ever from rising to the first rank in his 
 profession. 
 
 A little animation came into the lonely lady's 
 woe-begone face when the servants withdrew, 
 leaving her respectfully alone to enjoy her meal. 
 
 She enjoyed it less because she was hungry
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 13 
 
 than because eating and drinking gave her 
 something to do. 
 
 To farm-bred Jeanne, the tea, however dainty, 
 appeared but the contemptible shadow of her 
 favourite repast; though, since she had taken next 
 to no exercise for some days past, and had lunched 
 but two hours earlier, a less healthy appetite 
 would scarcely have needed it at all. 
 
 She handled the heavy Georgian urn nervously, 
 made the tea, and poured it into a shallow cup 
 of egg-shell china. She spurned the London 
 cream, delicately flavoured with boracic acid, 
 and haughtily left one of the four minute wafers 
 which did duty for bread and butter on its snowy 
 folded napkin, lest Hewitt and William should be 
 led to suppose her accustomed to more solid fare. 
 
 It was a greater effort of self-denial to spare the 
 third sponge cake. 
 
 Miss Marney's still-room maid made excellent 
 sponge cakes, though they were shaped and sized 
 rather to suit dolls than human beings with a 
 taste for sweet things. 
 
 Spin it out as she would, the meal was over in 
 the space of a quarter of an hour; and when the 
 door opened presently, Jeanne thought the 
 servants had come to clear away the tea-things. 
 She did not turn her head from the window, still 
 blurred with rain, to which she had returned; but 
 stood there, looking out dismally, at the rows of 
 twinkling lights in perspective, reflected in the wet
 
 i 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 mud of the street until they were lost in grey mist 
 and smoke. 
 
 The sound of a throat cleared respectfully but 
 unmistakably in readiness for speaking, made her 
 start; and she beheld her aunt's maid standing 
 at her elbow. 
 
 The old-fashioned waiting-woman who was 
 scarce ten years younger than her mistress, and 
 had tended Miss Marney faithfully for upwards 
 of half a century addressed Jeanne kindly but 
 stiffly, and somewhat as though she were speaking 
 to a very little child. 
 
 "Your auntie is asking for you, Missy." 
 
 " For me ? At last. Will she really see me again ? 
 I will come at once," said Jeanne, very joyfully. 
 
 The ennui vanished, and the dimples appeared. 
 
 "Then she must be better. Is she better, 
 Mrs. Dunham, do you think? " 
 
 Dunham shook her head. Down her wrinkled 
 face stole the slow tears of age, falling unheeded, 
 one after another, on to her black silk bodice and 
 violet silk apron. 
 
 A certain independence of character, joined to 
 great industry and a respectful manner, had 
 recommended Dunham to her mistress from 
 their earliest acquaintance. They quarrelled just 
 sufficiently often, and Dunham was just suffi- 
 ciently outspoken, to enliven their daily inter- 
 course; but the maid was tactful as well as frank, 
 and knew exactly how far she might go.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 15 
 
 Now that her lady lay dying, Dunham felt 
 very desolate ; her interests outside the little world 
 of Miss Marney's household had lessened with the 
 passing of years almost to vanishing point. 
 
 The thought of change chilled and saddened 
 her. She would have been shocked indeed had 
 any one accused her of wishing to die before her 
 time; but yet, had she been given any choice in 
 the matter by Providence, it is probable that she 
 would have chosen to accompany Miss Marney 
 on the journey which lay before her now, as she 
 had accompanied her on shorter journeys, during 
 the past fifty years of her existence. 
 
 Jeanne's pretty face reflected the maid's sadness. 
 Her heart was tender, and her impulses were 
 quick and warm, though perhaps not always as 
 wise as they were kind. She would have embraced 
 and consoled the old woman had she dared. 
 But the distance between them seemed too 
 awful to be thus bridged over by an impulse, and 
 Dunham looked too inscrutably respectful and 
 dignified to be embraced by any one, far less by 
 so young and insignificant a stranger as Jeanne 
 felt herself to be. Wherefore she followed her 
 guide meekly and silently, up the winding stone 
 staircase of the old house, to the second floor. 
 
 She felt both frightened and pitiful, for Dun- 
 ham's expression betrayed that she believed her 
 mistress to be on the point of death.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 THE PEDIGREE 
 
 Miss MARNEY'S aquiline nose and blue eyes 
 were visible over the edge of the sheet as Jeanne 
 entered the bedroom. A nightcap was tied 
 with pink ribbons under her ample chin, and a 
 hand with a white kid glove on it, caressed her 
 little growling Yorkshire terrier, which was curled 
 upon the quilt. 
 
 All her life Miss Caroline had prided herself 
 upon the beauty of her hands, and they were 
 exquisite yet, though seldom visible, for she was 
 busy preserving them still. 
 
 "Would you like the candles ma'am, or the 
 light turned on?" said Dunham, advancing to the 
 bed. 
 
 "No, there is a good fire; the room is light 
 enough, one can talk better by firelight," said 
 Miss Mamey, in a tone so brisk that it made 
 Jeanne jump. She had expected to find her 
 aunt in a semi-moribund condition, and was no 
 less astonished than relieved to find her in such 
 cheerful-wise, and so well able to speak naturally, 
 and give orders as usual. 
 
 16
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 17 
 
 She decided that Dunham must have taken 
 an unnecessarily gloomy view of the situa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Don't fidget about, Dunham," said the 
 invalid, imperiously, " but go out of the room and 
 shut the door after you. I want to make ac- 
 quaintance with my grand-niece." 
 
 "You won't tire yourself, ma'am?" 
 
 "When I feel tired, Miss Jane will ring." 
 
 Dunham turned a warning face towards Jeanne, 
 before leaving the room, and Jeanne nodded 
 acquiescence and encouragement. 
 
 The door was shut, and she found herself alone 
 with her great-aunt. 
 
 "I like to see your fresh face, my love," said 
 Miss Caroline graciously. "You have the Marney 
 complexion. When I was young the reddest rose 
 could not vie with my colour. There is no such 
 thing as a complexion nowadays. Young women 
 are all pasty-faced." 
 
 Jeanne's confidence was restored by this com- 
 plimentary address. Though she was alarmed 
 by the butler and footman, and even rather 
 fearful of Dunham and Mrs. Pyke, she became at 
 once easy and natural in the presence of her 
 august relative; for like many ultra-sensitive 
 persons, she alternated between the extremes of 
 courage and timidity. 
 
 "You are neither thin nor sallow," said Miss 
 Marney. " No one in fact, could believe you had 
 a
 
 i8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 a drop of French blood in your veins, and yet 
 undeniably, there it is." 
 
 Her voice was surprised and rather triumphant, 
 as though she were under the impression that 
 French blood must be yellow rather than red, 
 and of a necessarily inferior quality. "You are 
 not in the least like your father." 
 
 " But it is a great disappointment to Louis and 
 me," said Jeanne, unconscious of her aunt's 
 prejudices, "that we are not like our French 
 ancestors. We sigh over it every time we look 
 at the miniatures which belonged to poor papa." 
 
 "Have you those miniatures still?" 
 
 "Why, they are our greatest treasures," said 
 Jeanne, surprised in her turn. "Louis said I 
 must never let them out of my sight, so I brought 
 them to London with me. We are very, very 
 proud to belong to them, but we know we are not 
 like them. However, I mind less now that I 
 know who Louis is like." 
 
 " Does your twin brother not resemble you? " 
 
 "Not a bit," said Jeanne, and she winked 
 away a tear at the mere mention of her brother, 
 after the weeks of silence she had unwillingly 
 endured. " It is the portrait over the mantelpiece 
 in the morning-room that Louis is like. He is so 
 like that it might just as well be his portrait." 
 
 "Like the Romney picture of my father," said 
 Miss Marney, rather sharply. She drew herself 
 up eagerly on her pillows, and the gloved hand
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 19 
 
 that settled the pink bow of her night-cap, trembled 
 nervously. "How very extraordinary! Your 
 father was not like our family; and your mother 
 was a farmer's daughter with, as I have always 
 heard, no great pretensions to looks " 
 
 "Just a little round thing like me," said 
 Jeanne, humbly enough. 
 
 "Yet their son resembles his great-grand- 
 father! I find it difficult to believe that the 
 likeness can be anything very striking, my love. 
 I should like to judge for myself." 
 
 "He will be coming home very soon I hope," 
 said Jeanne. 
 
 Miss Marney moved uneasily, and the thought 
 crossed Jeanne's mind that perhaps even the 
 "very soon" might be too late for her aunt. 
 
 "Perhaps you have a photograph," said Miss 
 Marney. 
 
 "Of course, how stupid of me. It was taken 
 five years ago, so he may be changed. But he 
 was twenty and I suppose the young man in 
 the picture I beg your pardon " said Jeanne, 
 confused "I mean my great-grandfather, must 
 have been the same age when that was painted." 
 
 She unfastened the bodice of her plain serge 
 frock, and took a common silver locket from its 
 little white nest next her heart. 
 
 This she produced very simply and handed 
 to her aunt. 
 
 Miss Marney groped for her spectacle-case
 
 20 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 beneath the pillow, and adjusted the glasses on 
 the high bridge of her hawk nose. Then she 
 pressed an electric button in a knob beside her, 
 and by the light of a tiny glass globe above the 
 bed, stared for some moments at the photograph. 
 
 An ever-increasing interest and pleasure were 
 expressed upon her good-looking old face. 
 
 "My dear, you are quite right. He is re- 
 markably like, remarkably like. What an instance 
 of the freaks of heredity! The son of Louis 
 de Courset, whose foreign appearance we deplored ; 
 and of a farmer's daughter with no appearance at 
 all, and he grows up the living image of my 
 beloved father, who was one of the finest-looking 
 men of his day. Pray how tall is he?" 
 
 "Six foot two in his stockings," said Jeanne, 
 proudly. "He is very strong and athletic, Aunt 
 Caroline, and has won silver cups I have them 
 at home for running and jumping. And think 
 how well he has done for himself in the Army, 
 poor boy, with no interest, and only his own 
 brains to help him along." 
 
 "Looks are of quite as much assistance as 
 brains, my dear Jane," said Miss Marney, "and 
 he owes his looks to us;" she seemed soothed and 
 gratified by this reflection. "Your brother is 
 very handsome, my love. He is a true Marney. 
 I should like to keep this photograph." 
 
 Jeanne's brown eyes grew round with dismay. 
 
 "I could not sleep without the locket in my
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 21 
 
 hand, " she faltered. " It was his parting present, 
 Aunt Caroline." 
 
 Then she was shocked at her own selfishness. 
 Who was she to be refusing what might prove to 
 be, perhaps, the last request of her dying relative. 
 Though the pink bows on the night-cap, and the 
 liveliness of Miss Caroline's blue eyes looked 
 very little like dying to Jeanne. 
 
 " Keep it as long as you like, " she gasped, and 
 closed the gloved fingers gently over her treasure. 
 "If it is any comfort to you to have it if it 
 reminds you of your father I could not grudge 
 it to you. After all " she choked back a sob 
 "I do not need anything to remind me of Louis 
 really. He is here in my heart, " she clasped her 
 little hands tragically upon her round young 
 breast. "I think of him always, day and night." 
 
 "You shall have it back soon," said Miss 
 Marney. 
 
 The simplicity of her niece pleased her. She 
 was impulsive herself, and generous, though 
 many years of complete independence and great 
 wealth had caused her to become likewise ca- 
 pricious and self-indulgent. 
 
 " I see you mean to be kind to me, " she said, 
 with amused graciousness, "and I mean to be 
 kind to you. Now tell me what you think of the 
 house." 
 
 "I think it is very beautiful inside, and filled 
 with beautiful things," said Jeanne sincerely.
 
 22 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "You have not, of course, seen the saloons? 
 I keep them covered up. The tapestry chairs 
 there were all worked in the eighteenth century, 
 and are very exquisite. I keep the pictures 
 covered up too. I believe they would suffer from 
 the London blacks, to which I cannot accustom 
 myself even after twenty years' experience. 
 And I will not risk the family collection. Some 
 day I will show it to you. I have added to it 
 myself, as regularly as I was able." 
 
 " I should like to see it, " said Jeanne. 
 
 "But I had the morning-room made ready for 
 you to sit in. I am very partial to that room. 
 It is done up according to modern taste, for 
 though I am so old, I pride myself upon not falling 
 behind the times," said Miss Marney bridling, 
 "I sit there always, and I hope you like it, my 
 love." 
 
 "I like it very much indeed, " said Jeanne, and 
 she sighed unconsciously. "Are you always 
 alone, Aunt Caroline?" 
 
 " I am almost entirely alone, my love. I do not 
 care to make new friends, and I have outlived most 
 of my old ones. Those who survive are down in 
 the West country, and correspondence is not my 
 forte. I drive out a good deal. I hope you order 
 the carriage when you require it?" 
 
 "Thank you very much " stammered Jeanne, 
 "but I I" 
 
 "Quite so, my love; the fogs have been rather
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 23 
 
 bad, I urderstand; but you will feel inclined to go 
 and see your friends as the weather improves." 
 
 "I know only one person I scarcely know if 
 she is a friend still in London," said scrupulous 
 Jeanne. 
 
 "You are young, my love, and will find more 
 friends ; and later on you will have plenty of visits 
 to make, I have no doubt. But you are quite 
 right to be exclusive," said her aunt, "I do not 
 care to be hail-fellow-well-met myself with every- 
 body I see. We must try and amuse each other, 
 for the hours seem very long to me, lying here." 
 
 "And they seem very long to me downstairs," 
 sighed Jeanne. " For I do not like to talk to the 
 servants even if they seemed inclined which 
 they don't" 
 
 " I should think not, my love, it would not do 
 at all. Never encourage familiarity. But have 
 you nothing to do? You should never sit idle. 
 It is a bad habit for a young person. Have you 
 not even brought your tatting? " said Miss Marney, 
 solicitously. 
 
 Jeanne knew not what tatting might be, but 
 she shook her head, for whatever it was, she had 
 certainly not brought it. 
 
 "I brought nothing but absolute necessaries. 
 I did not know how long I was to stay. Uncle 
 Roberts said I was to go at once when your 
 telegram came; so I started as soon as the cart 
 could be got ready, and brought as few things as
 
 24 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 possible. Just a small box, and my desk in my 
 hand." 
 
 "You must be sadly uncomfortable, my love," 
 said Miss Caroline, sympathetically. "Still it 
 will give you some shopping to do. Pray hand 
 me the bag on my quilt." 
 
 Jeanne attempted to do so, but the little terrier 
 growled ominously. 
 
 "Sensible dog," said Miss Marney, in approving 
 tones, " you see how he guards my property." 
 
 But she quieted her pet, and the bag was 
 extricated. Miss Caroline opened it without 
 removing the white kid glove, and took out a 
 bundle of crackling bank-notes. 
 
 Selecting a couple, she handed them to Jeanne. 
 
 "You must get yourself any trifle you require, 
 my dear Jane. No thanks, I beg. Put them in 
 the pocket of your gown. And pray write and 
 desire that your wardrobe may be sent. I am 
 in hopes to persuade you to stay on." 
 
 Jeanne's heart sank, but she tried to conceal 
 her dismay as well as she could; and faltered 
 forth her thanks for her relative's proposed 
 hospitality. 
 
 "I am desirous to know," said Miss Marney, 
 settling herself among her pillows, and half 
 closing her eyes, " how far you are aware of your 
 near connection with our family. I am too 
 weak to be able to talk much myself, but I can 
 give you my attention very well." Her accents
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 25 
 
 were regretful, and Jeanne divined that Miss 
 Caroline was more accustomed to hold forth 
 herself than to listen to others. "Speak clearly, 
 my love. People nowadays mumble so dread- 
 fully." 
 
 Without suspecting her aunt of deafness, 
 Jeanne obediently raised her voice. 
 
 " I know more about our own family than about 
 yours; but Uncle Roberts has told us what he 
 had heard of both. Then there are the labels on 
 the miniatures, and an odd volume of a kind of 
 old French history of the ancienne noblesse, 
 containing an account of the de Coursets. It 
 brings down the pedigree as far as my great- 
 grandfather." 
 
 " Ah, " said Miss Marney, dryly. 
 
 "There were two brothers and a sister; Pierre, 
 Charles, and Anne-Marie. Our great-grandfather 
 was Pierre, the Marquis de Courset. He was 
 page to Madame Royale, the daughter of Louis 
 XVI and Marie- Antoinette. He escaped with 
 his young wife during the Revolution in 1793, 
 and came to England; and gave drawing lessons 
 in Bath to support them both. But he had 
 been an officer in the French cavalry, and could n't 
 be happy without soldiering, so he left his wife 
 and their little son Henri, and joined the cam- 
 paign of the French princes in Germany, and 
 was killed. But he desired that his son should 
 be brought up an Englishman."
 
 26 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 " Quite right. I know all this, and, as you may 
 suppose, it is not very interesting to me, but it 
 must be got through before we come to our 
 family," said Miss Marney, tossing her head 
 among the pillows. 
 
 "Would you rather I stopped?" Jeanne said, 
 somewhat discouraged by this reception of her 
 enthusiastic recital of a history which was to her 
 the most interesting and romantic in the world. 
 
 " No, my love, I am equally struck with the 
 retentiveness of your memory, and your respect 
 for the past. Pray continue." 
 
 " The brother of the Marquis, my great grand- 
 uncle Charles, was in the French navy, ' ' said Jeanne 
 " and served on board the Calipso, at Martinique ; 
 a battle-ship which remained faithful to the royal 
 cause throughout the Revolution. Louis XVIII 
 made him a Chevalier of St. Louis and of the 
 Legion of Honour; and that is all the book save 
 about him. I don't know if he married and had 
 children. Anyway he did not emigrate, he stayed 
 in France." 
 
 "I never heard of him, but a Frenchman is a 
 Frenchman," said Miss Marney, sternly and 
 incontrovertibly. 
 
 "The little sister, the Comtesse Anne-Marie," 
 said Jeanne, yet more disconcerted, "was a 
 Chanoinesse, but we do not know exactly what 
 that means. She is the one we like best. She 
 was the first noble lady to be arrested in the
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 27 
 
 Revolution, and she was imprisoned in the 
 Citadelle of Calais during the Terror, and died 
 there. She looks so gay and beautiful and 
 disdainful, and has a mouth like a Cupid's bow." 
 
 "Ladies in miniatures always have that kind 
 of mouth, my love," said Miss Mamey. "Her 
 fate was very shocking. But we will return to the 
 little son Henry. He was left in Bath under 
 the care of his widowed mother, who, most 
 fortunately for herself, eventually married an 
 English gentleman." 
 
 "But it wasn't very faithful of her," said 
 Jeanne indignantly. 
 
 "Possibly not, my love. Foreigners are more 
 apt, I believe, to be frivolous than faithful. Still, 
 she married an English esquire of fortune and 
 repute, who was a true father to Henry, and sent 
 him to Eton, and put him into a cavalry regiment. 
 He grew up quite English though he was called 
 the Count de Courset." 
 
 " Yes, " said Jeanne, trying to keep the sound of 
 regret out of her voice. 
 
 "He was a Colonel in the 2Qth Hussars when 
 we made his acquaintance," said Miss Marney, 
 who now took up the recital with much energy in 
 spite of her weakness. " He became a Lieu tenant- 
 General and married my dear sister Jane, who 
 died in childbed, in 1851. Poor Henry fell before 
 Sevastopol in '55, and my brother and I adopted 
 their little Louis."
 
 28 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "That was my father," said Jeanne. 
 
 "I can hardly expect you to realise, my love, 
 in the light of after events, how devotedly at- 
 tached we were to the orphan son of our gentle 
 beloved Jane. But Louis was not, unhappily, 
 a true Marney : his foreign blood was a distress to 
 us both, and his disposition, alas, though at- 
 tractive to some people, too clearly denoted his 
 French origin. His character was not congenial 
 to my dear brother, a very grave and serious 
 man. Louis had a happy nature, light-hearted, 
 facile, and, and but in short, the exact opposite 
 of your poor uncle. Louis le dtbonnaire, I used 
 to call him, fondly and playfully." She sighed. 
 "I over-indulged him, my love, for it seemed to 
 me as though Providence had bestowed him upon 
 us. My dear brother designed him for his heir; 
 being himself a great invalid, and unlikely to 
 marry. We planned that Louis should assume 
 his mother's name, and become one day Mamey 
 of Orsett." 
 
 "And you cast him off because he married my 
 mother," said Jeanne, holding her head very 
 high, in spite of her timidity. 
 
 "My dear Jane, I cannot discuss your father's 
 conduct with you," said Miss Marney, with 
 great dignity, "it would be neither charitable, 
 nor seemly. When I tell you that all our hopes 
 were centred in him, you must imagine for your- 
 self, as well as you can, that we did not lightly
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 29 
 
 decide to abandon them for ever. It pleased 
 God Miss Caroline's voice shook, but her 
 sunken blue eyes gleamed brightly, "that he 
 should atone by a gallant death for many errors 
 of youth 
 
 " They have all died like that, the de Coursets 
 it is the family tradition," said Jeanne, with a 
 throb of pride, "but, oh how frightened that 
 made me for Louis all through the Boer 
 War. And he was never even wounded, after 
 all! " 
 
 "It also pleased God," said Miss Marney, 
 "that the last of the Marneys of Orsett should 
 be just an old brother and sister living together, 
 and alone; pursued by misfortune, as you must 
 know." 
 
 Jeanne had heard of the great fire which had 
 destroyed Orsett Hall, and she nodded sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 "I know you lost your home," she said softly. 
 
 "And my brother," said Miss Marney, "he was 
 not an old man, but he never recovered the 
 shock ; he would not face the rebuilding of Orsett, 
 so we came to London. I had always desired 
 to live in London, thus sorrowfully was my 
 wish attained too late to give me any pleasure. 
 We bought this house from a distant cousin, the 
 Duke of Monaghan, and here we settled with the 
 salvage of our home and here my brother died." 
 
 She wiped away a tear, but it seemed rather an
 
 30 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 involuntary tribute to her brother's memory than 
 the outcome of any agitation, for her voice was 
 quite calm. 
 
 " Fortunately we had saved most of the family 
 treasures; the pictures, which are very valuable, 
 the library, the plate, and some of the furniture. 
 My love, I hope these things will always be cared 
 for as I have cared for them. I have guarded 
 them as the apple of my eye," said Miss Marney, 
 very earnestly. "During the last twenty years, 
 the care of them has been my only solace. I have 
 had the pictures cleaned and restored by degrees 
 under my own supervision; and a catalogue 
 raisonne' made of the books. They have supplied 
 the place of friends and acquaintances, being so 
 very full of memories and associations for me. 
 I was too old when I came here, my love, to begin 
 a fresh life but you are young. You will call 
 upon people later on, and they will be glad to see 
 you." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "You are wondering," said Miss Marney, 
 shrewdly, " why when your father was killed in 
 Afghanistan, we did not send for you and your 
 twin-brother, twenty years ago?" 
 
 " I have been wondering ever since I came here," 
 said Jeanne frankly. 
 
 " My brother had the strongest possible feelings 
 against such mesalliances as the one your father 
 chose to contract. It was utterly repugnant to
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 31 
 
 him. His indulgence was already exhausted by 
 your poor father's extravagance and and other 
 matters into which I cannot enter with you; and 
 he warned Louis that if he married this young 
 woman he would henceforth be a stranger to 
 him and to his children after him. He kept 
 his word, as a Marney naturally would," said 
 Miss Caroline with excessive haughtiness. "He 
 never, in fact, wavered for a moment. He told 
 me he hoped I should never waver. But he 
 extracted no promise." She hesitated. "Your 
 brother is very dear to you, Jeanne? " 
 
 "He is everything in the world to me," said 
 Jeanne. 
 
 Her brown eyes glistened in the firelight, 
 which now illumined the room somewhat less 
 brightly. 
 
 " Then you will understand that his wishes were 
 the more sacred when he was no longer with me." 
 
 "Then why " 
 
 " I am coming to that. The actions of human 
 beings," said Miss Marney, solemnly, "are not 
 always guided by principle. More often, perhaps, 
 especially in our family, by impulse, prejudice, 
 or sentiment. Let me get my dear dog safe and 
 snug, or he is such an intelligent animal that he 
 will assuredly bite you. Now you may look in 
 the pocket of my bag don't fumble anything 
 else and you will find a little letter in a fancy 
 envelope. It was written to me when your
 
 32 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 father was at a preparatory school, the first time 
 he ever left home." 
 
 The firelight flickered over the mahogany 
 furniture ; on the polished glass top of the dressing- 
 table, laden with crystal and gold ; on the medicine 
 bottles by the bedside; and on the little brown 
 head of Jeanne, stooping by the brass fender over 
 the dim writing on the small yellow sheet. 
 
 Miss Caroline Marney lay still among the 
 pillows of her four-poster bed; apparently con- 
 sidering the ornamentation of the ceiling, as she 
 caressed mechanically her sleeping lap-dog ; twin- 
 ing the gloved taper fingers among its silvery 
 grey curls. 
 
 She had come very nearly to the end of her 
 life's journey, and doubtless her thoughts travelled 
 a long way back on the road, bridging space, and 
 lingering among those flowery tracks of youth 
 which seem always so fair to the onlooker, with 
 a beauty which the little pilgrim straying therein 
 seldom recognises until he has left them far 
 behind. 
 
 Jeanne read the letter. 
 
 "Slough, Windsor, January, 1858. 
 " My Dere Auntie, 
 
 " / am ivritting as you bid me, but it is very difficuld 
 to writ here. I hope soon it will be time for me to 
 leeve here and go to Eton. I am not at all homsick 
 as you jeered I would be. I hope it will soon be
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 33 
 
 the hollydays. I wish I had been a better boy to uncle 
 Philip, and then I need not have come to schol yet. 
 There is one boy hear yonger than me, so I am not 
 the yongest. I send everybody at Orsett my love, and 
 plese plese tell Uncle Philip I fele very sorry indeed 
 now to have been so bad. I deresay I shall bring 
 home some prizes. It is not three months to the 
 hollydays. Plese feed my guiny pigs. My derest 
 darling Anty, you need not be afrade I will forget 
 you at schole. 
 
 " Rember that werever I am I will holways love you 
 even when you are quit old. 
 
 " Your off. and dutiful nephew, 
 
 " Louis de C our set. " 
 
 " I thought I had destroyed all his letters, " said 
 Miss Caroline's voice from the bed. " But I found 
 that one the other day, just before my illness, when 
 I was turning out an old desk. If you ask me, 
 Jane, why, after all, I sent for you that is the 
 only reason I can give you." 
 
 " You are not afraid- 1 ' ' Jeanne's voice faltered 
 and she looked rather fearfully round the shadowy 
 corners of the large luxurious room, "you are 
 not afraid that your poor brother would be 
 angry with you? " 
 
 " I am so close to him now, " said Miss Marney's 
 voice in the darkness, "that I know he is not."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 THE MINIATURES 
 
 THE lonely lady went down-stairs to her own 
 bedroom after this conversation, not a little 
 cheered and comforted by the first real intercourse 
 she had held with a human being since her arrival 
 in Grosvenor Square. 
 
 Her bedroom was on the first floor ; a strangely 
 solitary apartment, whereof the isolation inspired 
 her with much nightly terror. 
 
 A suite of cold white drawing-rooms had been 
 turned into a series of picture galleries, and though 
 the walls were crowded with pictures, these were 
 carefully veiled from view, and the scanty 
 furniture, dotted about the ocean of polished 
 parquet, was muffled in holland covers, so that the 
 saloons presented a very comfortless and ghostly 
 appearance. 
 
 The empty music -room beyond had no furniture 
 at all save a grand piano, and two shrouded 
 chairs. The great mahogany folding doors of 
 this apartment opened upon the landing of a 
 secondaiy staircase ; and across this landing, in a 
 
 34
 
 THE LONELY LADY 35 
 
 cul de sac, was the spare room which had been 
 assigned to Jeanne. 
 
 It had not occurred to Miss Marney that her 
 niece might be nervous; she had herself no ex- 
 perience of night fears. She occupied the best 
 bedroom on the second floor, and Dunham slept 
 in the communicating apartment on the right, 
 whilst old Mrs. Pyke inhabited the dressing-room 
 beyond the bathroom on her left. Moreover a 
 hand bell stood by her side, and the knob of an 
 electric bell was nightly placed beneath her pillow, 
 so that she might be able to summon assistance in 
 a moment, should a burglar appear, as Dunham 
 constantly apprehended he would. 
 
 Jeanne had a bell in her room, but she had no 
 idea whether any one would hear it if she rang 
 it after the household had retired; and being, 
 besides, unaccustomed to the convenience of bells, 
 the sight of it brought her little comfort. 
 
 She suffered great agonies of nightly terrors; 
 thinking of the silent ghostly suite of rooms 
 beyond her own, or listening to the unaccustomed 
 noises of the streets; with the knowledge that no 
 one else was sleeping on the same floor, and that 
 the servants' quarters were carefully shut off by 
 green baize doors at the end of the long passage. 
 
 But to-day she felt less lonely, because the 
 sounds overhead no longer spoke to her of mystery 
 and suffering. She could picture her aunt's face 
 on the pillow, with the pink bows tied under her
 
 36 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 chin, and Mrs. Dunham moving about, making 
 up the fire, and ministering to her various needs. 
 
 Coming freshly from the perusal of that letter, 
 penned half a century ago, by a miserable little 
 home-sick schoolboy, it was natural that Jeanne 
 should go straight to the shabby desk which 
 contained his despised family records; consisting 
 of one worn old blue leather volume, stamped 
 faintly with the fleur-de-lys, and five miniatures. 
 
 From this little stock of treasures, she drew first 
 her father's portrait. 
 
 It was a very bad little painting, and perhaps 
 her long enforced study of the Romney picture 
 in the morning-room helped to open her eyes to 
 its deficiencies. 
 
 She laid it down with a sigh, and lifted the 
 triple frame which contained the three French 
 miniatures, of her great-grandfather and his 
 brother and sister in their premiere jeunesse. 
 
 The young Marquis wore a wig of powdered 
 curls depending on either side of a full, sensuous 
 face, with a high nose, thick dark eyebrows, 
 merry brown eyes, and a pronounced dimpled 
 chin. The feature most attractive and individual 
 was the mouth, beautifully shaped, and redder 
 even than the crimson drapery held by a white 
 hand, in most artificial pose, around a loosely 
 open shirt of frilled lawn, and an unbuttoned 
 surtout. 
 
 Charles, the naval officer, was cast in a sterner
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 37 
 
 and plainer mould ; but Anne-Marie resembled her 
 elder brother. There was no trace of the rtiigeuse 
 in this miniature, which represented a young girl, 
 with raven tresses and flowered head-dress, piled 
 above arched brows and hazel eyes, and simpering, 
 cherry, bow-shaped lips. It was strange to look 
 upon the picture, and read the record in the shabby 
 book of her dignified, heroic acceptance of im- 
 prisonment; of her lonely death in the Citadelle 
 of Calais; the first woman of her order to suffer 
 arrest, and victim most innocent of the Revolution. 
 
 The fifth miniature was in a locket, and re- 
 presented her grandfather, Henri, as he had been 
 when he married Miss Jane Marney of Orsett. 
 Doubtless the medallion was a wedding present 
 and had been worn upon the bride's heart; for a 
 lock of the gallant Colonel's grey hair was enclosed 
 in the crystal back, and on the rim was engraved 
 in minute letters, "Henri Charles Louis, Marquis 
 et Comte de Courset, etc, etc., Col. 2gth Hussars." 
 
 Jeanne's father's bore only his name. The 
 French title had evidently been discarded by his 
 mother's family. The boy who was destined to 
 become Marney of Orsett could afford to ignore 
 such empty and barren honours. Perhaps the 
 "gentle Jane" had been less scornful, Jeanne 
 thought. 
 
 Louis and Jeanne had built many a fairy castle 
 of hope and romance in their childhood, all 
 founded upon this wonderful French ancestry
 
 38 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 which Miss Marney regarded so contemptuously. 
 
 Louis was burning with ambition, and fertile 
 in imagination, and his bold fancy embraced 
 many a scheme for the restoration of the French 
 monarchy, and his own consequent aggrandise- 
 ment. 
 
 His hopes were for himself, Jeanne's were for 
 him, but her sympathy and ardour were not the 
 less warm on this account; and her dreams 
 continued long after his had been quenched in 
 the realities of an active life. 
 
 Their honest, prosaic Welsh uncle had no idea 
 of the secret aspirations of the twins' early youth, 
 nor was his respect for French blood and breeding 
 any higher than Miss Marney 's own. 
 
 Louis and Jeanne, who were called Lewis and 
 Jane at Coed-Ithel, ascribed his contempt to 
 ignorance, and learnt to smile inwardly when he 
 expressed his views on the subject. 
 
 "Poor sister Jenny," said the farmer, alluding 
 to their dead mother with indulgent pity. "So 
 much to do about her grand marriage, and, willy- 
 nilly, she must have him against the wishes of 
 his family, and what did my fine gentleman do 
 for her after all? Lost her a good situation in 
 Bath, and sent her here with his pedigree in her 
 pocket and never a brass farthing to keep it 
 company. A pedigree be good for stock, but it 
 never made human beings any more worth that 
 ever I heard of. Poor Jenny had a hankering
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 39 
 
 after the gentry, more than ever I could under* 
 stand; but there it is, she was church and I was 
 chapel, so to speak, and her children shall be what 
 she was, as is but right and natural. Still she 
 came to be glad, pension or no pension, that her 
 boy should be brought up on a good honest farm. 
 I don't grudge him a good education though. 
 He 's a gentleman's son, and I can afford to 
 pay for 'un. Take it and welcome, says I." 
 
 Louis took the best he could get. The Rector 
 of the parish was friendly with the headmaster 
 of the grammar school in the nearest large market 
 town, and interested him in the history of the 
 twins while Louis was yet a little boy. The child's 
 lively intelligence, precocity, and good looks did 
 the rest. In time Louis won scholarships as well 
 as the approval and affection of his master, and he 
 delighted his uncle by retaining his interest in 
 the farm throughout the triumphs which awaited 
 him in his school and college career. 
 
 "You can't make that boy a farmer," said the 
 grammar-school wiseacre. 
 
 " I '11 be a farmer some day, " said young Louis, 
 "but a soldier first as my father was before me. 
 Uncle Roberts can carry on the farm without my 
 help for many a long year yet. When he wants 
 that, I '11 come." 
 
 The lad was bold, and knew his own mind, and 
 when to speak it. He won his uncle over to his 
 own way of thinking, where the schoolmaster
 
 40 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 might have advised in vain, and went to an army 
 crammer in due course; old Llewellyn Roberts 
 showing no signs that he grudged the expense of 
 the lad's education. Perhaps he was proud of 
 his nephew's wit and industry, and the ease with 
 which he held his own in sport as in study. 
 
 But when Louis had once obtained his com- 
 mission, his uncle, beyond providing him with his 
 outfit and fifty pounds in ready money, assisted 
 him no further, holding that he was now a made 
 man, who must earn his bread and live by his 
 profession. The boy asked no more favours; 
 sailed for India, with a light heart and the highest 
 hopes, and managed for a couple of years, by 
 hook or by crook, to keep his head above water 
 in spite of a too open-handed disposition. Now 
 and then Jeanne received from him letters of 
 financial despair, over which she wept, for she 
 had not a penny of her own in the world, and was 
 powerless to help him. 
 
 But when the South African War broke out, 
 and Louis, who had been coming home with his 
 regiment in the spring, was ordered to the front, 
 he wrote joyfully to Jeanne: 
 
 "/ wonder how many poor fellows this war has 
 saved from bankruptcy. Me, for one." 
 
 Llewellyn Roberts was a sturdy, independent 
 man, and had sought no assistance in the bringing 
 up of his orphan nephew and niece, from their
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 41 
 
 father's relatives. Nevertheless he was too shrewd 
 a Welshman to refuse the tardy hand of fellowship 
 held out by their wealthy and, presumably, 
 dying great-aunt. 
 
 On receipt of Miss Marney's telegram he had 
 desired his neice to pack up immediately and go 
 to London, and to stay as long as she was 
 wanted. 
 
 Girls did not enter much into the calculations 
 of Uncle Roberts ; he was a man of few words and 
 fewer promises, and though he made no secret 
 of his intention that Louis should inherit Coed- 
 Ithel, he never talked of making any provision 
 for Jeanne. 
 
 If her great-aunt left her a legacy however, so 
 much the better for her. Whether she did or no, 
 Jeanne was a pretty girl, and would probably 
 get married some day. Uncle Roberts did not 
 pause to consider that Jeanne had scarcely seen, 
 much less spoken to a marriageable young man 
 in her life. If she did not marry, it would be her 
 brother's obvious duty to keep her. 
 
 He did not trouble himself concerning Jeanne, 
 though he liked, in a vague way, to know she was 
 "about the place," a timid, bright-eyed, dimpled 
 little thing, always happy and occupied, it seemed 
 to him, with her own harmless concerns, into which 
 he had no wish to pry. He left her entirely to 
 the care and under the orders of old Granny 
 Morgan, the woman who kept house for him, and
 
 42 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 who still looked upon Jeanne as a little girl, though 
 she was five and twenty years old. 
 
 Nor did Jeanne receive overmuch consideration 
 at the Rectory, whither she was perpetually 
 invited, or sent for, to play with the solitary 
 daughter of the house, some two years her senior, 
 because Cecilia required a playmate, and Jeanne 
 was gentle, good-tempered, and refined in speech 
 and manner, being quick to observe and to imitate 
 all that appealed to her natural taste, and to 
 discard what did not. 
 
 She learnt her first lessons in the village school, 
 which was more than two miles distant from 
 Coed-Ithel, and a long tramp for a little maid 
 in bad weather. Here she got on so fast that her 
 uncle was minded to send her to a genteel boarding- 
 school, being well-to-do; but he was happily 
 deterred from this course by the Rector's wife, 
 who was not, and who saw her way to halve the 
 salary of a governess and obtained a companion 
 for her child at one and the same time. 
 
 Louis privately rejoiced over this arrangement, 
 whilst pretending to scorn Jeanne's studies, and 
 her friendship for the spoilt Cecilia. 
 
 He found fault with her, teased her, and com- 
 manded her, after the fashion of brothers; whilst 
 she worshipped him untiringly, excused his faults, 
 and bore patiently with his moods though 
 often winking away a tear in secret after the 
 fashion of sisters.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 43 
 
 The twins loved each other so intensely that 
 they were obliged to hide their feelings, each from 
 each, for fear the other should discover the truth. 
 
 Jeanne, of course, concealed her affection 
 less carefully than Louis, wept openly when he 
 went to school, and even seized the opportunity 
 to be personally demonstrative whenever he was, 
 from any cause, too dejected to resent being 
 kissed, or to be annoyed with her for thus dragging 
 to the surface feelings which should have been 
 too deep for outward expression. 
 
 She reproached him sometimes, for unkindness, 
 when he declined her offered caresses ; but secretly 
 she thought him a very manly boy. 
 
 Though Louis indulged far less in romantic 
 day dreams than did his solitary sister, yet he 
 treasured the few records of his family's past 
 greatness no less jealously than she. Though 
 his prejudices as a British schoolboy warred with 
 his sympathy for France, yet he had the history 
 of that country at his fingers' ends, and kept 
 steadily in view his determination to perfect 
 himself in the language of his fathers. 
 
 As he grew older, his perception widened with 
 his reading, and he found it possible to combine 
 loyalty for the land of his adoption with reverence 
 for the misfortunes of his own race. 
 
 At Sandhurst it was the fashion among his 
 comrades to encourage young de Courset to hold 
 forth upon the tragedy which must ensue in
 
 44 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 case war broke out between England and France. 
 
 His intentions hovered between a dramatic 
 resignation of his sword, and immediate suicide; 
 and the cadets warmly advocated the latter 
 course, and supplied him with innumerable 
 receipts for a painless end. Their derision was of 
 a friendly kind, however, for Louis was popular, 
 amusing, and sincere. It is affectation which 
 usually excites the ridicule that kills; and is the 
 unforgivable sin most utterly detested by honest 
 youth. 
 
 From the time of his first school-going Louis 
 lived but little at the farm; and as he was not 
 infrequently invited to pass a portion of his 
 holidays with one schoolfellow or another, he had 
 many friends of whom his sister knew next to 
 nothing, and lived a life altogether separated 
 from hers. But she enjoyed all his confidence, 
 exulted in his successes, and sympathised pas- 
 sionately with his troubles. 
 
 Perhaps she was less impressed with his wisdom 
 than Louis always liked; for her rustic shyness, 
 and ignorance born of utter inexperience, made 
 him appear and feel much older than his twin 
 sister. She thought him careless and extravagant, 
 as indeed he was, and sent him little sermons 
 concerning these tendencies. 
 
 Sometimes her advice was more humorous than 
 practical. 
 
 " I am so sorry you do not like your C. O. He
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 45 
 
 must be horrid. But do try hard, my dearest 
 boy, to please him. For instance you are so 
 quick and clever, could you not get up early, 
 and do all his work for him sometimes? I feel 
 sure this would be the way to get on; and when 
 they saw how much better you did it than he 
 could, surely they would promote you. And 
 please do send me your socks to mend, I am sure 
 it would pay for the postage to get them properly 
 done." 
 
 But if Louis laughed over these and other 
 effusions from the anxious little sister, his laughter 
 was always tender. 
 
 Her only confidante and the humble sharer of 
 her hopes and her fears for her brother was 
 Granny Morgan, and these letters were often 
 the upshot of their consultations. 
 
 "It is so difficult to know how to say enough, 
 and not too much, " she would explain to the old 
 woman. "But it frightens me to hear of these 
 subscriptions and things when he has no 
 money." 
 
 " A word here and a word there, my deary, like 
 water dropping on a stone, " said Granny Morgan ; 
 "he'll take to counting his clothes when they 
 comes home from the wash as he grows older, 
 but the best of men is careless about such things. 
 Just mix up a warning-like in all the news you 
 send him, like a powder in jam, and some of it 
 will come home to him when he least expects it."
 
 46 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne herself hardly knew the meaning of 
 extravagance or self-indulgence. 
 
 She grew up hard-working and simple, red- 
 cheeked and bright-eyed ; an adept in bee-keeping 
 and fruit-preserving and butter-making; though, 
 being the farmer's niece, she naturally left the 
 milking of the cows to the herdsman; nor would 
 old Mrs. Morgan permit her to put her hand to 
 any of the rougher work of the house, but prided 
 herself on bringing up Jeanne "like a lady" to 
 sew her seam, and look after the dairy. 
 
 Nevertheless, Jeanne had her troubles; for 
 though the Rector and his wife were kind and 
 homely, she was of little account in their 
 eyes compared with their own over-indulged 
 daughter. 
 
 Cecilia, in consequence, gave herself airs, and 
 being older and bolder than her humble playmate 
 constantly asserted and maintained her superi- 
 ority, until she electrified her little world by 
 marrying, at eighteen, a celebrated scientist and 
 archaeologist, who had come to this out-of-the- 
 way corner of Wales in order to examine the 
 ruins for which it was famous. 
 
 The professor's spectacled middle-aged eyes 
 lit upon the Rector's daughter, and her apple- 
 cheeked, fair-haired buxom comeliness inclined 
 him to wed Cecilia. 
 
 Her parents never dreamt of her accepting his 
 proposal, but she did so; and it turned out that
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 47 
 
 he was rich, and she became very superior and 
 prosperous on the spot. 
 
 Thus she passed out of Jeanne's life, and very 
 nearly out of her parents' lives also, who had 
 existed since her birth only for her; and who 
 were equally pained and bewildered by this 
 unforeseen result of her promotion. 
 
 Jeanne, though she had not at the time much 
 regretted the departure of Cecilia, had certainly 
 missed her, since a fitful semblance of friendship 
 had been kept up between them to the last. 
 For a few months after the wedding, a desultory 
 correspondence was maintained; then Mrs. Hogg- 
 Watson became too busy or too magnificent to 
 write any more to her humble friend at Coed-Ithel 
 farm. 
 
 "I think the child is honest, Dunham." 
 
 "I am sure of it, ma'am." 
 
 "Her eyes remind me of Clumber you re- 
 member Clumber? " 
 
 "Yes 'm, " said Dunham, with an inflection of 
 disapproval, "but I would be sorry to compare 
 a Christian to a dog 'm." 
 
 "Nevertheless she has the same brown, faithful 
 eyes as my dear old spaniel." 
 
 Dunham permitted herself a slight sniff. 
 
 "And though she appears self -engrossed, as 
 all young people do, she is not really thinking of 
 herself at all, but of her brother. She is on the
 
 48 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 watch, as Clumber used to be for me; jealously 
 guarding him all the while, though he is so far 
 away. My heart went out to her, Dunham, for 
 she is my own kith and kin after all. She is so 
 gentle and so faithful. Not at all the vulgar 
 young woman I had dreaded." 
 
 "She 's too simple to be vulgar, ma'am," said 
 Dunham, shrewdly. 
 
 "She is very rustic and timid, of course." 
 
 " So she is, 'm. Almost afraid to eat and drink, 
 Hewitt says." 
 
 "I desire you will not repeat the servants' 
 gossip about my grand-niece, Dunham. I am 
 very glad to hear she has not a gross appetite. 
 It would be lamentable in so young a person. 
 What else does he say of her? " 
 
 "I think, ma'am, you'll tire yourself with 
 talking so much, " said Dunham, stiffly. 
 
 "You are taking advantage to bully me, 
 Dunham, because you think me too ill to resent 
 it," said the invalid, querulously. 
 
 "Me take advantage God forgive you for 
 saying so, Miss Caroline. But you don't mean it, 
 and it 's time for your mixture." 
 
 A tear shone in the old blue eyes. 
 
 " Perhaps I am a little tired, " said Miss Mamey, 
 "though I waited several days before sending 
 for her. I would n't let her come till I felt quite 
 myself again." Then, after a pause, "They 
 seem to have taken a great care of their French
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 49 
 
 family rubbish, such as it is, all these years, 
 Dunham. They must be worthy of trust." 
 
 " I 'm one as judges by small things, ma'am, 
 and I 'm sure of it. She 's not so much as thrown 
 a burnt match about since she 's been here. Never 
 a chair moved out of its place in the morning- 
 room, but it 's put back. And the new ormolu 
 fender has n't another mark on it since that day 
 the curate called and balanced hisself on the edge 
 of it, all the time he was asking you for a 
 subscription." 
 
 "Yes. I looked up the bill for the fender, 
 and deducted the amount from the sum I had 
 intended to give," said Miss Marney grimly. 
 "I am glad she is careful of the furniture. It 
 confirms my good opinion. Dunham I am 
 half thinking of sending for Mr. Valentine 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " I 've no opinion of half -thoughts, ma'am. 
 They generally come to nothing." 
 
 "You will write him a line to-night," said 
 Miss Caroline. 
 
 Jeanne sat over the fire, with the miniatures 
 in her lap, when Dunham came tapping at the 
 door. 
 
 "A letter for you, missy, from South Africa. 
 I though I would bring it myself, and hear how 
 the young gentleman was." 
 
 " How very kind of you!" Jeanne's eyes opened 
 
 4
 
 50 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 in grateful astonishment at this sudden accbs of 
 attentiveness. 
 
 "I've seen his photograph, missy," said 
 Dunham, in subdued tones, betraying, however, 
 that note of personal interest, which had hitherto 
 been entirely lacking in her brief converse with 
 Jeanne. 
 
 "Did Aunt Marney I mean Aunt Caroline 
 show it to you? " 
 
 "Yes, missy, she did." 
 
 "You have lived with her a long, long time, 
 Mrs. Dunham, have n't you? " 
 
 "Yes, missy. You '11 be wanting to look at 
 your letter." 
 
 Jeanne opened it reluctantly. 
 
 She preferred reading those sacred epistles 
 from her far-away soldier in solitude. A page 
 at a time, to eke out her delight. 
 
 But the first glance at the closely written sheets 
 caused her to utter an incredulous sound of 
 delight and surprise. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dunham! His passage is booked. 
 He is coming home! He will sail by the Briton 
 early in January, or at least he hopes he 
 will." 
 
 She forgot her desire for solitude, in the joy of 
 sharing the good news. 
 
 "I 'm very glad, missy." 
 
 Dunham's voice was troubled. 
 
 " I don't know if I ought to take it on myself
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 51 
 
 but if you could send him a cable, and ask him 
 to start earlier " 
 
 "Earlier! But I never expected him to come 
 at all." 
 
 Dunham hesitated. Her small dim eyes peered 
 anxiously out of her wrinkled face. 
 
 "Your auntie would like to see him." 
 
 "But she will see him." 
 
 Dunham shook her head sorrowfully. 
 
 " I am sure you are over anxious, Mrs. Dunham," 
 said Jeanne, who now beheld all the world through 
 rose-coloured spectacles. "Indeed, indeed, she 
 does not seem to me so very ill." 
 
 Dunham evaded the subject. 
 
 "It might make a great difference, missy, to 
 the young gentleman," she urged beneath her 
 breath. 
 
 " A great difference ! ' ' said Jeanne. But though 
 she was simple she was not stupid. A light 
 broke in upon her. 
 
 "Oh you could not you could not suppose 
 he would hurry home for that!" she cried in 
 horror. 
 
 It is sometimes difficult for the old to fathom 
 the disinterestedness the lofty sentiment of the 
 very young ; but Dunham did not make the mis- 
 take of doubting Jeanne's sincerity. 
 
 "He is so like the old Colonel, Miss Jane," she 
 said, earnestly, "that your auntie can think of 
 nothing else. When she was n't talking to me,
 
 52 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 she 's lain there, looking at the photograph, like 
 one in a dream. She was terrible wrapt up in her 
 papa, missy, and that picture in the morning- 
 room is the apple of her eye. It was a thousand 
 pities the young gentleman did n't walk in to 
 see her before he started for the war." 
 
 "But, Mrs. Dunham, we did not even knov\ 
 where she lived. It is more than five and twenty 
 years ago that my father broke with his mother's 
 people. They were never in our lives at all." 
 
 " I know, missy, and more 's the pity, for the 
 young gentleman is a Marney, every inch of him, 
 as his auntie keeps saying." 
 
 "He is a de Courset, " said Jeanne, and her 
 cheeks burnt. 
 
 "Not in looks, Miss Jane, as you could not 
 deny, if you remembered your own father as I 
 do, " said the maid with asperity. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dunham, do you indeed? Please 
 tell me about him, " cried Jeanne, and she dropped 
 her dignified manner in haste. "Uncle Roberts 
 never speaks of him, he tells us nothing." 
 
 "We are told to speak no ill of the dead, Miss 
 Jane," said Dunham. "If your poor papa 
 did n't turn out as steady a young gentleman as 
 his best friends would have wished, why he died 
 for his country, missy, as no man can do more 
 and in the grave, as they say, all is forgotten. 
 I can't stop, for your auntie does n't like me out 
 of her sight. But if you could only think over
 
 OP GROSVENOR SQUARE 53 
 
 without a word to your auntie about cabling 
 to Mr. Louis " the name came naturally to her 
 lips " you need n't to give him any reason, but 
 just to say as it was best for him to come." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Dunham, Louis and I have no secrets 
 from each other. Of course if I cabled for him, 
 I must tell him why. And though he loves me 
 more than any one else in the whole world," 
 said Jeanne, and her tone was jealously exultant, 
 "and would do what I asked him if he possibly 
 could yet his work comes first. A soldier must 
 think of his duty, you know; and his whole 
 career, besides, depends on it. I am perfectly 
 certain he could not get away earlier. All his 
 letters are full of his longing to get home. Just 
 think that he has not seen England for five years 
 nor me his only sister and his twin! And you 
 can imagine that if he could get away a single 
 day sooner, he would be only too glad to do it." 
 
 "Poor young gentleman, he must have had a 
 hard time, but he 's got on well, by all accounts 
 and been steady, missy, I hope," said Dunham 
 lingering. 
 
 "Steady! Why he has done brilliantly!" cried 
 Jeanne, with soft indignation. She seized the 
 chance of holding forth upon her brother's 
 perfections the more eagerly, because she had had 
 no listener for three weeks ; and also because, like 
 many young people, she was at this period of her 
 life almost exclusively interested in her own
 
 54 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 concerns. "Just think of him, Mrs. Dunham, 
 a poor young lieutenant in a line regiment, with 
 nothing but his pay; and now he is a captain at 
 five and twenty and has the D. S. O. He was n't 
 even very glad at his promotion for so many 
 of his regiment were killed, poor fellows; and he 
 always thought that was so like Louis, that 
 they were better men than he. He said the best 
 always got shot it was like a fatality. But Louis 
 came through it all without a scratch. And he 
 was mentioned in despatches twice, Mrs. Dunham, 
 he was indeed. Uncle Roberts pretended not to 
 care, but he cried he actually cried when the 
 Rector came up with the paper. And his Colonel 
 wrote about him to Uncle Llewellyn though 
 Louis could n't bear him when first he joined, but 
 on active service he said it was all different. 
 And when the war was over, he got this job at 
 Durban about the prisoners of war partly because 
 he learnt Dutch so quickly that he spoke it quite 
 well, and of course it gave him extra pay; but it 
 was all, all through his own cleverness, for he has 
 no interest, Mrs. Dunham, none whatever." 
 
 " He 's got it in his face, missy, " said Dunham, 
 in the same subdued tones. " But still I 'm sorry 
 very sorry I am, that he could n't be here for 
 your auntie's last Christmas." 
 
 "Does the doctor say that?" said Jeanne, 
 startled. 
 
 " Oh, missy, I go by my own senses, that 's
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 55 
 
 known her fifty years far better than any 
 doctors," said Dunham. "A professional gentle- 
 man knows better than to make prophecies and 
 risk being wrong after all. His patients want to 
 be told what they must do to get well again. 
 It 's not his business nor yet his interests to tell 
 them that they won't never get well to bid them 
 give over hoping " 
 
 " Does Aunt Caroline know? " 
 
 "Yes, missy," said Dunham, solemnly, "she 
 knows as well as I do."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 THE FUNERAL 
 
 JEANNE sat in the London church as one in a 
 dream. 
 
 Through the fog which pervaded the building, 
 the lights twinkled mistily, and a far-away voice 
 pronounced the words of the burial service so slow- 
 ly, that her tired and bewildered brain could not 
 follow the sentences consecutively. 
 
 Her attention fixed itself upon the coffin, 
 heaped with flowers, its shape dimly visible among 
 the surrounding bearers; and her mind was filled 
 with a vague wild pity for the unconscious oc- 
 cupant, upon whose waxen face she had gazed 
 for the last time on the previous day. 
 
 The old servants, a small pathetic black-clad 
 group, with bent shoulders and whitened heads, 
 were together in a pew on the left, and the rest 
 of the household a little lower down the church. 
 
 But Jeanne, on the right, knelt in her pew alone, 
 and of other mourners, save the lawyer and the 
 doctor, there were none. How strange that a 
 woman so wealthy should have so few friends, 
 thought little Jeanne. 
 
 56
 
 THE LONELY LADY 57 
 
 The tears fell fast upon her new black crape. 
 
 "Just as I was beginning to love her," she 
 thought, ''and now she will never see Louis 
 after all." 
 
 That a thing so much desired should not come 
 to pass seemed incredibly sad and astonishing 
 to her. 
 
 If Jeanne had heard at Coed-Ithel of Miss 
 Marney's death in London at eighty years old, 
 and after a succession of paralytic seizures, it 
 would have presented itself to her mind as a 
 most likely and natural event. But as it had 
 actually occurred, it seemed to her for the moment 
 almost as though the end of the world had come ; 
 she could hardly even realise it to be true. 
 
 During the long days that had elapsed between 
 her aunt's death and the funeral, she had gone 
 over and over the past weeks incessantly in her 
 own mind, and lived through the final tragedy 
 a hundred times, always possessed by a horror and 
 pity in proportion to her utter inexperience. 
 
 She lay awake in her isolated chamber with 
 beating heart, hearing again and again the flying 
 footsteps in the echoing corridors; the hurried 
 summons at the door; the silver chiming of the 
 clock in the silent chamber of death; the sound 
 of the deep, deep breathing that would presently 
 cease for ever. 
 
 But when she recalled her third and last inter- 
 view with Miss Caroline, she could not but own
 
 58 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 to herself that her aunt had spoken then much 
 as she might have spoken had she expected to 
 live for another hundred years. 
 
 The habits of a life-time do not change in a 
 moment, even though that moment be the last. 
 
 The little growling dog was caressed; the 
 gloved hand still guarded the velvet bag as 
 jealously as though Miss Caroline meant to take 
 it with her on her long journey. She was still 
 anxious to impress upon Jeanne the importance 
 of the Marneys of Orsett, and the comparative 
 insignificance of the de Coursets ; she referred to 
 the advantages of exclusiveness ; and emphasised 
 the necessity for taking care of the furniture and 
 the pictures. 
 
 Was it possible she could be so near Eternity 
 and her mind yet fixed so firmly on things which 
 would presently for her, have no existence at all? 
 
 No more sincere and pitiful mourner than little 
 Jeanne could have knelt by that deathbed of 
 her old relation, and yet the emotion which 
 possessed her was but the shadow of sorrow, 
 and not sorrow itself, though it held much of 
 regret. 
 
 Very strongly she felt that she might have 
 loved Miss Caroline had she known her a little 
 better. An instinctive sympathy had immedi- 
 ately manifested itself between her and her aunt. 
 
 But it had come too late. Miss Marney had 
 passed the last years of her long life in solitude,
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 59 
 
 whilst Jeanne, not much less lonely than her 
 aunt, since she had lost the companionship of 
 Louis would so gladly have borne her company, 
 and given her the affection of a dutiful and 
 gentle child. 
 
 Dunham, jealously watching her poor lady's 
 great-niece, though convinced of her sincerity, 
 was touched by the anxiety Jeanne manifested 
 to learn what her aunt's wishes had been, that 
 she might be certain of acting in accordance with 
 them throughout those dismal days. 
 
 "The directions for her funeral was all written 
 long ago, ma'am," said Dunham, whose respect 
 for Jeanne increased now that she beheld in her 
 the sole representative present of the family she 
 had served so long. "She is to be laid by the 
 side of poor Mr. Philip, ma'am, in the family 
 vault. No 'm, she would not have liked you to 
 travel down with it. She had very fixed ideas 
 about what ladies were able to do. Mr. Valentine 
 and the doctor will go. And there '11 be some of 
 the old people left down there. They '11 be 
 present, ma'am, you may depend. You will go 
 to the church Miss Jane ; and she was particular 
 as it should be the one she last attended. She 
 was always chopping and changing, poor dear, 
 according as the services went up or down or 
 did n't suit her fancy one way and another. 
 You '11 go to the church with the rest of us, and 
 then there 's nothing more to be done, ma'am, but
 
 60 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 to wait till Mr. Valentine, the lawyer, comes 
 and tells you what 's been settled." 
 
 So the sad procession wended its way from the 
 church to the station, and the men went with it; 
 but Jeanne, with Dunham and Mrs. Pyke, in 
 attendance, returned to the desolate house in 
 Grosvenor Square, where she strove to fill the 
 remaining hours of the day by writing a long letter 
 to her brother. 
 
 "Oh, Louis, it is so dreadful. The great house 
 was silent enough before, but now that she is really 
 gone, it seems a thousand times more empty still. 
 Reason as one may, how cruel it feels to take her 
 out of her beautiful luxurious room, away from all 
 the comforts that have always surrounded her poor 
 body; away from all the familiar things she has trea- 
 sured so long and just lay her in a cold stone vault. 
 
 "I know it has to come to everybody, but it is 
 freshly awful when it comes home to oneself like this; 
 but you have seen death so often and so close, poor 
 boy, that you will hardly understand my feeling. 
 I say to myself but what is one old old woman, 
 whose life was finished, to all the young lives that 
 have been cut short in the South African War. 
 And yet, perhaps because I am alone, and you so far 
 away perhaps because this house and every one 
 in it is still so strange to me / cannot get over the 
 horror of it, nor the remembrance of it and am so 
 cowardly and afraid at night
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 61 
 
 "/ try to remember all she said that last morning 
 when I saw her by daylight for the first time, and 
 realised that she was really very ill. 
 
 " I am glad to recollect she said she was pleased I 
 had come, and that she wished it had been earlier; 
 but I cant say she was at all like what I expected a 
 dying person to be, even then. 
 
 " She said Providence played odd tricks, in rather 
 a complaining way, not at all as though it were in 
 any way her own doing, poor dear, not to have sent 
 for me earlier. 
 
 " She spoke of you and asked about your career 
 and praised you for having done so well though 
 brought up in an out-of-the-way farm, with nothing 
 to inspire you but your own ambition; and said 
 how it proved that blood will always tell (but she 
 meant the blood of the Marneys and not of the 
 de C our sets all the time). She hoped you were 
 very particular what company you kept, she said, 
 and it was bad company which led thoughtless 
 young men astray, and oh, I am afraid she was 
 thinking of poor papa; but you would never never 
 be led astray would you, Louis, or fall into the 
 evil ways she spoke of? I told her again and again 
 that you had never done anything in your life that 
 you ought not to do and that at the worst you were 
 only a little a very little extravagant in giving 
 presents and things you could not afford. I 
 think I comforted her, and she said extravagance 
 did n't matter, but oh Louis, that is only because she
 
 62 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 is so rich, she does n't know what poverty means; so 
 don't let it lead you away, to hear she thinks so 
 little of it. 
 
 "About me, she said she was glad to see I was 
 so very exclusive; which is I think her polite way 
 of noticing that I have no friends at all. And 
 she liked to think of me in the morning-room, because 
 Dunham told her how very careful I was of the 
 furniture (I should hope so, you have no idea how 
 beautiful it is}. Again and again she begged me 
 to take care of her things (as though I were going 
 to live here all my life) as it was a mistake to 
 trust the best of servants; and that she liked 
 to know I had a brother so devoted to me as her's 
 had always been to her, and that history repeated 
 itself. 
 
 " Well, then, Dunham came in and said Mr. 
 Valentine had called, and Aunt Caroline said he 
 was to come up at once to her room. I thought 
 she seemed a little depressed, so I foolishly said 
 how glad I was she had a visitor, and I hoped it 
 would cheer her a little; she quite drew her head 
 up on the pillow, and said solicitors were not visitors* 
 and that he had come on business. 'Professional 
 callers, even though they be gentlemen, my dear 
 Jane, do not count. But of course you could not 
 know that, my love. 1 
 
 "I went away directly he came in, but I thought 
 he looked a kind old man. Mrs. Dunham says 
 he and his father and grandfather have been the
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 63 
 
 Marney's solicitors for three generations, and have 
 always known all their affairs. 
 
 " When I think over that last interview, all we 
 said seems rather meaningless and trivial. If I 
 had known she was going I would have liked just 
 to thank her for sending for me; and to tell her 
 I was very proud to belong to her, for she was an 
 ideal old lady to look at, and you would have been 
 proud of her too. Besides I might have told her 
 that we would both remember her loyally always, 
 and other things which would have pleased and 
 comforted her and yet been quite quite true. 
 
 "But, no, instead of all this I sat still and was 
 more anxious to talk about you than to listen to 
 the last words she was ever going to say to me in 
 this world. 
 
 "During those long hours when we were all 
 waiting through the night; waiting oh how dreadful 
 through the night for her to die she spoke only 
 twice, almost as though in her sleep. Once she 
 said ' The horse-chestnuts are coming out in the 
 avenue. ' I felt that her spirit was a long way off 
 in the past, back at Orsett, in the country, the spring- 
 time and the sunshine. 
 
 " The next time it would have been funny if it 
 had not been so terribly pathetic, for she said half 
 crying, 'Mary Ann is very cross. She won't let 
 me go to the fair, ' so then she must have been a little 
 girl again. I hope she died like that, and did not 
 go away in the dark thinking of herself as an old
 
 64 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 woman with nobody but Mrs. Dunham and Mrs. 
 Pyke left behind to be sorry for her. 
 
 " Your photo was under her pillow, so I have got 
 it back again at last. I wish I had n't grudged it 
 to her so much. 
 
 It was all like a dream afterwards. I shook 
 hands with one or two people, but I scarcely know 
 who they were. One was the doctor but neither 
 he nor the parson seemed to know her at all well. 
 Mrs. Dunham said she did n't believe in doctors, 
 and changed her church very often. The poor 
 curate evidently did not know exactly what to say, 
 but I suppose he thought he ought to try and comfort 
 me, so he said 'God be wi l ye,' instead of good-bye, 
 in a hollow voice; and squeezed my hand so viciously 
 that my ring cut into my finger. I was horrified 
 with myself for feeling more inclined to laugh than 
 to cry, when I am sure he meant so kindly; but when 
 he asked if I was staying on I explained I should 
 be going back to Coed-Ithel in a few days, so I 
 don't think he '// come again. I wrote to Uncle 
 Roberts and told him, when it was all over, and he 
 sent a post-card to say it was the decree of Providence 
 and what we must all come to. But he evidently 
 had no idea of coming up for the funeral as the 
 doctor thought he 'might, and as I was sure he 
 would n't. . . 
 
 "/ am writing this in the morning-room; and I 
 will finish it to-morrow when I have seen Mr. 
 Valentine"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE WILL 
 
 A GLEAM of wintry sunshine stole in through the 
 lace-shrouded windows, and turned the green 
 damask walls of the morning-room to gold; and 
 brightened the flowered chintz on the couch; 
 and shone through the ragged petals of the giant 
 lemon-tinted and copper-hued chrysanthemums, 
 and upon the fresh dark violets, in their silver 
 bowl. 
 
 Before an old French bureau, Mr. Valentine 
 sat, with crossed knees, and folded hands, ex- 
 plaining the late Miss Marney's wishes to her 
 grand-niece. 
 
 He was not at all like Jeanne's preconceived 
 notion of a family solicitor ; being neither dried up 
 nor severe, but on the contrary, a very pleasant, 
 cheerful, grey-headed old gentleman; with an 
 expression which, subdue it as he would, was 
 jovial in the extreme. 
 
 "This will was executed somewhat hurriedly," 
 
 he said, "but it is, of course, quite in order; and 
 
 I am heartily glad, if you will allow me to say 
 
 so, to have been enabled, even at the last moment, 
 
 & 6s
 
 66 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 to assist poor Miss Marney to do justice to her 
 only surviving relatives. I am afraid the charities 
 would be somewhat annoyed with me if they 
 knew what they had lost. Happily, they never 
 will, since she destroyed her former testament." 
 Here he showed a faint inclination to chuckle, 
 but was restored instantly to professional gravity 
 by the alarm on Jeanne's expressive face. 
 
 "You don't mean it is depriving any one " 
 
 "Certainly not. Good heavens, no, my dear 
 young lady, " said the lawyer, wishing he had been 
 less frank. "Pray dismiss any such idea from 
 your mind. Your brother is actually poor Miss 
 Marney's next of kin : he has every possible natural 
 and legal right to inherit her money. If there is 
 anything to be said in the matter, it is on your 
 own account. You have an equal claim upon 
 your great-aunt, with your brother, and she has 
 ignored you altogether." 
 
 "Mr. Valentine," said Jeanne, very earnestly, 
 "I promise you faithfully that I would much 
 rather it all belonged to Louis. What is his is 
 mine, and what is mine is his. It is really exactly 
 the same thing. If you knew him " her pause 
 was more eloquent than the most fervent praise 
 "you would understand." 
 
 "I hope I may know him very soon indeed," 
 said Mr. Valentine. The twinkling eyes beneath 
 grey brows bent a kind gaze upon Jeanne, and 
 she looked up at him with sincere veneration.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 67 
 
 "Your brother is of age, I believe?" 
 
 "He is twenty-five, and he is a captain 
 already," said Jeanne, trembling with anxiety to 
 recapitulate her brother's extraordinary achieve- 
 ments. "He has been very lucky. He saw 
 some service on the Indian Frontier, and he has 
 been through the South African War without a 
 scratch. Twice he was mentioned in despatches; 
 and they have given him a job at Durban, which 
 he says will be a most good thing for his career, 
 simply because he leamt Dutch so well; or on 
 his own merits, for he has no interest, Mr. Valen- 
 tine, none whatever. Unless perhaps they remem- 
 bered that his father and his grandfather were 
 both killed in action, one at Sevastopol, and one 
 in Afghanistan." 
 
 " Most creditable, I 'm sure, " said Mr. Valentine, 
 encouragingly, as she paused for breath. 
 
 " But I have n't seen him for five years, though 
 I am his twin-sister," she said, rather mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you are five and twenty?" 
 
 "I am always taken for younger. It is an- 
 noying," she said, abashed by his genuine 
 astonishment. 
 
 Mr. Valentine looked at the round, childish, 
 wistful face, with its bright eyes, and red bloom 
 of health, and smiled. He would have laughed, 
 but for the solemnity of the occasion. 
 
 " Most people would be anything but annoyed.
 
 68 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 I am afraid you would not be particularly surprised 
 if I told you I was sixty-five." 
 
 "No, I should not," said honest Jeanne, very 
 simply. 
 
 "And yet I am only fifty-eight," said Mr. 
 Valentine, rather ruefully. "But, however, to 
 return to business I must apologise for all 
 my elaborate explanations, but you see I had 
 fancied myself talking to a young lady just out 
 of the schoolroom." 
 
 "The explanation made everything clear, " said 
 Jeanne, " and I do not suppose I know much more 
 of these things than a young lady just out of 
 the schoolroom would ; for I have no experience 
 at all, as Louis says, I have just lived all my 
 life in the same place, a very lonely place, 
 in the country, with my uncle, who is a 
 farmer." 
 
 "Then may I be permitted to ask what you 
 will do now?" 
 
 "If this house belongs to Louis but indeed it 
 seems hardly to be believed " 
 
 " It is undoubtedly your brother's house." 
 
 " Then I must stay here till he conies home, and 
 take care of it for him," said Jeanne, decidedly. 
 "Aunt Caroline said it was very wrong to leave 
 even the best of servants to look after valuable 
 pictures and furniture alone." 
 
 " I am quite sure you are right. But I fear you 
 will have a lonely Christmas unless but no
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 69 
 
 doubt you will persuade some friend to come and 
 be with you." 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " No, there is nobody. But I shall be thinking 
 of Louis, you know, and his coming home so soon." 
 She put her hand to her brow, which ached from 
 the emotion of the previous day, and added with 
 a bewildered look : 
 
 "I hope it is not not heartless but but 
 does n't it all mean that Louis will be very 
 rich." 
 
 "He will be a very rich man indeed," said 
 Mr. Valentine, gently. 
 
 Jeanne sat for a moment in silence; her heart 
 throbbed. 
 
 She thought of Louis struggling to live on his 
 pay; of the little presents he had sent her home 
 which he could so ill afford, and which made her 
 cry and laugh over his loving and foolish extrava- 
 gance; of the letters she had written to beseech 
 him to be just before he was generous, which was 
 exactly what Louis could never be, and had 
 never been; of the many, many things he had 
 wanted, and which she had implored him to do 
 without, and wept because she could not send 
 them and because Uncle Roberts, for all his 
 substantial goodness, was not a man to be asked 
 for money. 
 
 The tears dropped once more from her brown 
 eyes, and she just breathed the words, "I wish
 
 70 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 I could have thanked Aunt Caroline," as she 
 wiped them away. 
 
 "You are quite, quite sure that it is all right, 
 and that there can be no mistake ? It would be 
 so cruel to raise his hopes, and then find, after 
 all, there was nothing. Would it not be safer 
 to make quite certain before we say anything 
 about it to him?" 
 
 "It is all quite right, and safe as the Bank of 
 England," said Mr. Valentine, soothingly. " Every- 
 thing Miss Marney has in the world is left 
 unconditionally to your brother. He and I are 
 joint executors, and we are directed to divide 
 a certain sum among the old servants. That is 
 literally all." 
 
 "The picture the Romney this room act- 
 ually belongs to Louis. I beg your pardon, 
 Mr. Valentine, but the more I think of it, the less 
 I can believe it." 
 
 "You will get used to the idea," said Mr. 
 Valentine. "Now if you will give me your 
 brother's address, we will write to him at once." 
 
 Jeanne dictated the address, and watched him 
 write it down. 
 
 "Pray understand," he said, as he did so, 
 " that I am at your service in every possible way, 
 until your brother comes home. I hope you 
 will refer any matter of business connected with 
 this sad event directly to myself." 
 
 " I shall be very thankful, for I know nothing
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 71 
 
 of business," said Jeanne, timidly. "I suppose 
 everything can go on here as usual? I am sure 
 Aunt Caroline would not have liked any changes 
 and Louis would want to respect her wishes, 
 I know." 
 
 "Your brother is coming home so soon that I 
 should certainly advise no changes until his 
 return," said Mr. Valentine. "If any difficulty 
 arises in the matter of immediate expenses 
 we shall be only too happy to 
 
 "Oh, there can be none," said Jeanne, and her 
 eyes filled with tears, "for poor Aunt Caroline 
 kept a large sum of ready money in her velvet 
 bag, always by her side. Mrs. Dunham was so 
 upset trying to get it away from the little dog. 
 He would not let it go, but she said Aunt Caroline 
 had desired her to give it to me, and she counted 
 the notes for me, and wrote down the numbers. 
 She said an account must be kept of them. There 
 were six twenty-five pound notes, and Aunt 
 Caroline gave me two the other day." 
 
 " It will certainly not be necessary to keep an 
 account of your aunt's presents to yourself, " said 
 Mr. Valentine, courteously, "and I am afraid 
 you would not find that a hundred and fifty 
 pounds would go very far towards maintaining 
 this great house. The expenses will of course be 
 defrayed from the estate. You must not think 
 of infringing on your aunt's small gift. I am 
 sure your brother would not wish it; the more
 
 7 2 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 especially since he certainly owes his inheritance 
 indirectly to you, for poor Miss Marney made 
 no secret of the fact that her acquaintance with 
 you inspired her to make this very satisfactory 
 change in the disposition of her property. Now 
 we are agreed that everything should continue 
 as usual here until Captain de Courset's return, 
 or until we receive instructions from him to the 
 contrary. We will ask him to cable his wishes on 
 receipt of our communication." 
 
 "I know very well what his wishes will be," 
 said Jeanne. Happiness dawned once more in 
 her shy brown eyes at the thought of her brother's 
 return; and his return to such amazing and un- 
 expected prosperity. 
 
 " I cannot realise what it will be like to see him 
 again after all these years. First India then 
 this long, long South African time. And now in 
 a few weeks he will be with me again. I am ex- 
 pecting a telegram directly he knows for cer- 
 tain which ship he will sail by. Oh, I won- 
 der, I wonder if he will have changed very 
 much." 
 
 Mr. Valentine was very kind and sympathetic, 
 and had every desire to please his new client 
 or his new client's sister; but he was a busy man, 
 and the Christmas holidays were fast approaching ; 
 wherefore he did not invite Jeanne to return to 
 the discussion of her brother's personality or his 
 adventures, but after a repetition of the subdued
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 73 
 
 congratulations proper to the occasion, shook 
 hands with her, and bowed himself out. 
 
 Jeanne, left alone, looked round the warm, 
 luxurious room: at the little table, covered with 
 trifles become pathetic through the death of their 
 owner ; the silver-handled loop that the dead wo- 
 man had used for reading the newspapers; the 
 gold-topped flask of scent, the cut glass bottle 
 of salts; the turquoise-studded bonbonnibre and 
 tortoise-shell paper-knife; all of which had been 
 restored to their original places by the careful 
 Dunham, when they were no longer needed in 
 the sick-room. An immense fire glowed on the 
 hearth ; the air was pervaded by the sweet breath 
 of the scented violets. 
 
 The young life in her heart beat more strongly 
 for the rebound from its mournful contact with 
 death. She had not seen the sunshine for so long. 
 
 Suddenly Jeanne fell on her knees beside the 
 violets, and cried out, almost involuntarily, " Oh, 
 thank you, thank you, thank you"; to relieve her 
 overcharged heart, and without any very clear idea 
 as to whether she were addressing the Almighty or 
 poor Miss Caroline. 
 
 Was Louis to be delivered from his stress of 
 poverty, and gain his heart's desire the means 
 which would enable him to rise to any position 
 he chose given his industry and talents, and 
 all his personal advantages to supplement his 
 wealth? To restore, perhaps, the ancient dignity
 
 74 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 of his family, and fulfil their childish dreams? 
 And all this through the unconscious agency of 
 his humble, ignorant, devoted sister. This was 
 the mouse aiding the lion indeed. Her heart 
 swelled at the proud thought. 
 
 " But it wasn't really me," thought little Jeanne, 
 "whatever the lawyer may suppose. It was 
 the photograph it was his dear face which made 
 her feel she must do Louis justice, far more than 
 any words of mine. It was the likeness to you, 
 Colonel Harry," and she looked up at the hand- 
 some disdainful face of Harry Marney, whose 
 boyhood, perpetuated by a master hand, was as 
 fresh to-day, as it had been a hundred years since. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," 
 murmured Jeanne, and she dropped her face into 
 her hands for a moment, in a silent passion of 
 gratitude, before rising from her knees. 
 
 How bright the room looked! Poor Aunt Caro- 
 line! And heartless cheerful lady's bower which 
 the dead brain had planned, and the dead hand 
 created, and filled, however incongruously, with 
 beautiful and pleasant things. 
 
 Those long weeks of absolute solitude had 
 brought the lonely lady into an almost unnatural 
 relation with inanimate things. 
 
 The furniture, the pictures, and the flowers, 
 seemed not to be soulless, but eloquent witnesses 
 of past sadness; and now, with herself, eagerly 
 expectant of joy to come.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 75 
 
 She went round, softly touching one thing 
 and another. The strangeness of the house had 
 vanished, and only its beauty remained. It was 
 Louis's house. 
 
 She might ask for the keys of the locked Chip- 
 pendale book-cases when she would. They were 
 Louis's books. 
 
 The treasures she had feared to touch were 
 they not almost her own, since they belonged 
 to Louis? 
 
 It was no longer even so much Miss Caroline's 
 father who looked sternly forth from his golden 
 frame above the glowing hearth ; but Louis's great- 
 grandfather watching over his descendant's law- 
 ful inheritance. 
 
 In three weeks, three little weeks Louis 
 would come to his own! 
 
 His bedroom must be chosen. How the plenish- 
 ing of it would help to pass the time. 
 
 Already one half of Miss Marney's original 
 gift of bank-notes to her niece had travelled to 
 South Africa. It would be a great sum to Louis : 
 almost as great and wonderful a windfall as it 
 had been to Jeanne, the prudent little sister who 
 had after anxious reflection decided to send only 
 the one note to her brother, and to say nothing 
 of the other, but reserve it for emergencies. 
 
 Now no such emergencies need be feared. The 
 five and twenty pounds could be spent upon the 
 preparations she would make for her hero's return.
 
 76 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 She wondered whether Mrs. Dunham would 
 think it heartless if she rang the bell, and asked 
 for her advice in choosing her brother's room now. 
 She thought not, for Dunham had already, and 
 with a ring of sad exultation in her grief-subdued 
 voice, referred to the home-coming of the young 
 gentleman. 
 
 Miss Caroline had had few secrets from her 
 faithful waiting- woman, and the contents of 
 the will, which had surprised Jeanne so much, 
 had been perfectly well known to Dunham, though 
 she had discreetly held her peace upon the subject. 
 
 As Jeanne hesitated, with her hand on the bell, 
 Hewitt entered with a telegram upon a salver. 
 
 He presented it to his young lady with the air 
 of increased respect which all the household had 
 exhibited, since the death of their late mistress. 
 
 Jeanne took it eagerly. Her heart was so full 
 that she was inclined to be communicative even 
 with the monumental butler. 
 
 The receipt of a telegram, besides, was not an 
 every-day occurrence with her, but a rare and 
 exciting event. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Hewitt. I expect it is 
 from my brother," she said, breathlessly opening 
 it "to tell me the ship by which he is to come 
 home " 
 
 Her voice died away as she read the telegram^ 
 once uncomprehendingly, and the second time 
 with a full realisation of its purport.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 77 
 
 The brighteness faded from her eyes, and the 
 red colour from her cheeks; for these were the 
 words of the message Louis had sent, 
 
 "Ordered Somaliland, embark Durban seventh 
 January."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE NURSERIES 
 
 " if glory leads the way 
 You '11 be madly rushing on 
 Never thinking if they kill you 
 That my happiness is gone! " 
 
 "Goo has been very good to me," wrote Louis 
 from Durban, in the first letter Jeanne received 
 from him, concerning the Somaliland campaign. 
 "Why should this good luck come to me, when 
 every fellow out here would give anything to go? 
 . . . We ought to reach Obbia in about ten days. . . 
 The general impression here seems to be that it will 
 be only a preliminary campaign to make ready for 
 larger operations next cold weather. It won't 
 delay my return home for very long, so make the 
 best of it, my darling little Jeannie. My best chum 
 is so disgusted with what he calls my everlasting 
 luck, that he won't speak to me. It 's all the harder 
 for him, poor old fellow, because he applied and I 
 did n't, not dreaming I should have the ghost of a 
 chance. . . . I walked into a photographer's, and had 
 my old phiz, done to please you" (That is so like 
 
 78
 
 THE LONELY LADY 79 
 
 Louis, to try to make it up to me some other 
 way," thought Jeanne) "and there is another 
 thing I hate writing about, but I must, and you 
 would rather I did, so here goes. 
 
 "In case anything happens to me, write at once 
 to my bankers; they have my will and life assur- 
 ance policy. I forget if I told you I managed 
 to insure my life when I first joined. It is for 
 ;iooo, which will easily clear my debts, buy a 
 good horse for Uncle Roberts, and leave something 
 over for you. Also they have a letter for you, 
 which I wrote a long time ago, but I hope that you 
 may never have to apply for the same, my Jeannie 
 dear, but that I shall soon be home to throw it into 
 the fire and laugh over it, and tell you the contents by 
 word of mouth. . . . The only thing I feel guilty 
 towards you is in starting for Somaliland when I 
 was due and had promised to come home. These 
 are the occasions when you wish I was not a soldier" 
 ("No, never," said Jeanne) "but they are the only 
 occasions on which a soldier has a chance of showing 
 what he is worth, if indeed he is worth anything, 
 and anyway I shall be two thousand miles nearer 
 to you. . . \" 
 
 Jeanne received this letter in the middle of 
 January, and she perceived by the date that it 
 was written some time before the news of his 
 inheritance had reached Louis. 
 
 It roused her from her depression, and awoke
 
 80 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 renewed pride in her brother's success where 
 others had failed. 
 
 "You see, they always pick him out. It just 
 shows what they must think of him, " she said to 
 Dunham, with melancholy exultation. 
 
 "It does indeed, ma'am, but if I was him, I 
 must say I should have stood firm and refused to 
 go. With all this business waiting to be settled, 
 and Mr. Valentine able to do next to nothing till 
 he comes home. " 
 
 "He did not know all that when he wrote. 
 Besides, it would be dishonour to refuse to go on 
 active service," said Jeanne, with reddening 
 cheeks. " How can you think it possible, Mrs. 
 Dunham?" 
 
 "Well ma'am, a gentleman with his fortune 
 has something better to do than go prancing over 
 the desert looking for naked savages in my 
 opinion," said Dunham, firmly. "Let others 
 go as has their bread to earn and don't care how 
 they does it. But for a gentleman who will have 
 thousands a year to spend as he likes, I calls it 
 tempting Providence." 
 
 " I am afraid it is, " said simple Jeanne. " But 
 you don't understand. Louis is a soldier; it is 
 in his blood. He must go, while there is any 
 fighting left to be done. It would break his heart 
 to stay behind; though I am sure it breaks mine 
 that he should run more risks. But he is al- 
 ways lucky. Somehow it gives rne confidence
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 81 
 
 to remember how he went through all those 
 dreadful battles in South Africa and never was 
 touched. And he says this will be only a short 
 expedition. " 
 
 "People used to say that about South Africa, 
 ma'am. Well I remember Hewitt telling us it 
 would all be over in three months, " said Dunham 
 gloomily. " But he was wrong, as he nearly always 
 is though never owning it. " 
 
 "Still perhaps as my brother says he will 
 probably not be long I might get his room ready 
 all the same?" 
 
 "It is his right to have the best room in the 
 house. He 's the master now, " said Dunham, 
 but her voice trembled. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Dunham, you do not think I would 
 take Aunt Caroline's room, " said Jeanne, sin- 
 cerely shocked. 
 
 "Why not 'm? She won't never want it no 
 more. 'T is my belief she 'd have wished it. 
 Though how that velvet pile carpet will stand 
 cigarette ash I can't tell. I remember his poor 
 father used to drop it about long ago. " 
 
 " Did he indeed? But Louis does not smoke. " 
 
 "That 's not likely by this time, ma'am, what- 
 ever he may have done when he left home, " said 
 Dunham, in a pitying voice, as though she thought 
 cigarette-smoking must be hereditary. 
 
 "No, I assure you he is not a smoker. He 
 would have told me, if he had become one." 
 
 6
 
 82 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "Gentlemen don't tell their sisters every- 
 thing, ma'am, if you '11 excuse me," said Dunham. 
 
 Jeanne gave up the attempt to convince the 
 old woman that Louis was the brilliant exception 
 who proved this rule. But about the room she 
 remained firm. Louis must not take Aunt 
 Caroline's room. He would not like it at all. 
 He was not used to a large room, and would think 
 it too luxurious for a soldier. 
 
 "Then if Pyke and me is to have the best 
 bedroom floor all to ourselves," said Dunham t 
 severely, "which I can't think becoming, 'm, but 
 far be it from me to say so, then there 's nothing 
 left but the nurseries, what have never been used 
 since we came here. " 
 
 Jeanne mounted the echoing stone staircase 
 almost eagerly, to explore the upper floor, in com- 
 pany with her conductress. 
 
 "The stairs are very steep," she said, pausing 
 before the little white gate at the top in order to 
 allow Mrs. Dunham to recover breath. "I sup- 
 pose long ago, when the house was built, they 
 put this gate here to prevent the children falling 
 down the stairs?" 
 
 "They put it up too late, by all accounts, Miss 
 Jane," said Dunham. "This house belonged to 
 poor Miss Marney's cousin, the late Duke of 
 Monaghan. She bought it from him over twenty 
 years ago; and they put up the gate after the 
 little heir fell down this flight of stairs, and
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 83 
 
 was carried into her Grace's room for dead. " 
 
 "Was he killed?" said Jeanne, horrified. 
 
 "Crippled for life, ma'am. They sold the 
 house in consequence. They say her Grace vowed 
 she would never set foot in it again. She never 
 came near your poor auntie. But the Duke 
 called on her twice before he died, " said Dunham, 
 rather proudly, "and by all accounts she lost 
 very little by not seeing the Duchess, for no one 
 has a good word for her. They say she led the 
 poor Duke a terrible life with her temper and all. " 
 
 Jeanne looked pitifully at the scene of this long 
 past catastrophe. She pictured "the little heir" 
 running gaily forth from his nursery for the last 
 time, the fall the cry the silence and the 
 horrified nurse lifting a little crushed figure. 
 
 "This part of the house has not been touched, 
 ma'am, since Miss Marney came here. It had 
 all been done up fresh when the poor Duke suc- 
 ceeded, only a year or two before the accident. 
 Miss Marney had no use for this floor, so she left 
 it alone, and only decorated the rooms she oc- 
 cupied. She never came up here, the stairs being 
 so steep and her heart weak. There 's two very 
 nice-sized bedrooms, ma'am, beyond this, " said 
 Dunham. 
 
 Jeanne walked through the empty and silent 
 nurseries, softly, and on tiptoe. They seemed 
 haunted by the ghosts of the children who had 
 played there, and who must have climbed on to
 
 84 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 chairs and tables when they wanted to look out 
 of the high barred windows. 
 
 The walls were still covered with a faded papef 
 of pictured nursery rhymes. 
 
 "We will leave these rooms just as they are," 
 she said, "but oh, Mrs. Dunham, if you think I 
 might, I would so much rather come up-stairs to 
 one of these large empty bedrooms, and have 
 the one next to mine made ready for him. It 
 would seem almost like company to know he was 
 coming, and besides I think surely the maids 
 must be sleeping on this floor, just beyond the 
 baize door? I am very often frightened at 
 night, Mrs. Dunham all alone among the empty 
 drawing-rooms if you won't think it foolish 
 of me to say so, and I hear such odd noises. 
 I sometimes feel as though the mahogany 
 wardrobe must be walking about; it creaks so 
 dreadfully. " 
 
 "Why didn't you say so before, ma'am?" 
 said Dunham, astonished. " 'T is for you to give 
 the orders. Your things shall be moved this 
 very day. And the head housemaid shall sleep 
 in a little room close by within call, as ought to 
 be mine, only my poor lady would have me next 
 door to her. To be sure I might have thought 
 you would be nervous. " 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Dunham," said the poor 
 little lonely lady, gratefully. For she was indeed 
 unable to realise that it was she, after all, and
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 85 
 
 not Dunham, who was mistress of the house. Her 
 conscience pricked her nevertheless, for the op- 
 portunities she made to ask Dunham's advice, 
 or exchange a word or two with her. 
 
 "What would Aunt Caroline think of me?" 
 she reflected, in dismay, now and then. "She 
 said one must never talk to the servants. That 
 is what it is to be what poor old Granny Morgan 
 used to say Louis and I were ; neither fish, flesh nor 
 fowl, nor good red herring. At home I wickedly 
 look down on Uncle Roberts and think myself 
 more refined than he, and that a farmhouse is 
 no place for a de Courset; when I am here, it is 
 the farm which seems the most natural; and I 
 feel like a doll stuck up and doing nothing, quite 
 out of place; and would be glad if the youngest 
 housemaid, the pretty one with red hair, might 
 come and talk to me. She looks far more cheerful 
 than Mrs. Dunham. Surely Aunt Caroline would 
 not have called Mrs. Dunham exactly a servant 
 after they had lived so many years together? She 
 must have earned the right to be more of a friend. 
 And if I talk to nobody I believe it would end in 
 my going mad. I used to enjoy my meals, but 
 now I would almost rather go without them, than 
 be waited on in solemn silence by Hewitt and 
 William." 
 
 A worse penance than those solitary repasts 
 was the daily drive, which Dunham hinted that 
 it behooved a lady, however lonely, to indulge.
 
 86 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne dared not refuse, for she was penetrated 
 by an honest anxiety to carry out the wishes of 
 her late aunt, and to prove herself a worthy re- 
 presentative of the family. She learnt from 
 Dunham the daily routine of Miss Marney's life 
 in London during the past twenty years, and en- 
 deavoured, as faithfully as possible, to pursue 
 the same programme. But she was buoyed 
 up by a secret hope that when Louis came home 
 he would discover a less irksome regime to be 
 equally suitable to her exalted position. 
 
 Thus she walked with Dunham every morning 
 at noon, down Upper Grosvenor Street and into 
 the Park, that the toy Yorkshire terrier might be 
 carefully exercised in a leading string; and back 
 again through Upper Brook Street and so home. 
 
 Jeanne might have enjoyed these expeditions 
 had the weather been less cold, and had Dunham 
 and the dog been able to walk a little faster. But 
 the mincing steps of the aged maid were carefully 
 timed to accord with the slow waddle of the obese 
 lap-dog. 
 
 Dunham, gathering her rustling silk skirts in 
 a bunch before her, held them up to display her 
 old-fashioned elastic-sided boots, and picked her 
 way nervously over the crossings, of which she 
 had never been able to lose her rustic dread; 
 whilst Jeanne, in a little black cloth jacket, suited 
 rather to the warm west country and to her accus- 
 tomed energetic tramping over hill and dale than
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 87 
 
 to the London east winds, shivered and dawdled 
 by her side. But it occurred neither to her nor 
 to Dunham to take Miss Marney's sables and 
 sealskins out of their camphorated wrappings, 
 and make use of them. They were preserved and 
 tended as jealously as though Dunham expected 
 their late owner to return at any moment, and 
 demand them at her hands. 
 
 The drive was always taken in the immense 
 double brougham, for it was Miss Marney's rule 
 to have the close carriage out in winter, and the 
 open carriage in summer, and Buckam the coach- 
 man had no notion of making changes at this 
 time of life. 
 
 He was so ponderous and infirm that he had 
 to be assisted on to the box ; but once safely seated 
 there, he drove carefully and well. William the 
 Irish footman sat beside him, and they apparently 
 decided together where the drive should be taken 
 and how long it should last. 
 
 William's unfortunate low-comedy face, and 
 his involuntary but perpetual smile as he daily 
 touched his hat and waited for orders at the 
 carriage door, caused the lonely lady, quite 
 unjustly, to suspect him of laughing at her in 
 his sleeve; and the very suspicion doubled her 
 nervousness. 
 
 Every afternoon she stammered, " Please go 
 nowhere in particular just drive about," and 
 every afternoon, having thus uttered, she beat
 
 88 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 her brains for a more dignified and sensible 
 reply. 
 
 One day it occurred to her to enquire of Dunham 
 why a stout red volume of addresses was always 
 carefully handed into the carriage with the rug. 
 
 "It's the Red-book, ma'am," said Dunham, 
 rather shocked at this new display of ignorance. 
 
 "I see it is a red book," said Jeanne, meekly, 
 "but why must I take it out driving?" 
 
 "Why though your poor auntie had given up 
 paying visits for some time before she died yet 
 in case she had felt inclined to do so, of course 
 she wanted the Red-book handy to look up where 
 the people lived. " 
 
 "I see," said Jeanne, but she understood 
 nothing. 
 
 " There used to be a lot of cards left here, when 
 we first came," said Dunham, nodding sadly 
 towards the bowl of hoarded dingy pasteboards 
 which decorated the table in the hall. 
 
 "Did Aunt Caroline know so many people 
 when first she came to London?" 
 
 "She knew very few people, but she paid a lot 
 of calls on people whom you might have thought 
 would be glad enough to know her, seeing she was 
 related by blood (though rather distant to be sure) 
 to a many of them. She tried to distract herself 
 after her poor brother's death by making new 
 acquaintances, poor dear, which she never could 
 have done in his lifetime, for he could n't abide
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 89 
 
 visitors. Though to be sure he grudged her 
 nothing else ; and she always had her clothes from 
 
 / 
 
 Elise, and Worth, and all the grand places, though 
 it often seemed a pity like, with no one to see them. 
 But she liked to keep up a proper dignity, Miss 
 Jane, as a lady in her position ought. " 
 
 "Yes, " said Jeanne, and her heart sank. 
 
 "But there, all her efforts came to nothing. 
 She was too old-fashioned to take to new faces 
 or new ways, and Londoners was too free and easy 
 for her, as had been all her life Miss Marney of 
 Orsett, and accustomed to take the lead and be 
 deferred to. She just quarrelled with one after 
 the other and that 's about all it came to. And 
 nobody comes to look for you in London, Miss 
 Jane, be who you may. " 
 
 "That is very true," and Jeanne sighed in 
 sympathy. 
 
 "You can be more solitary here than ever you 
 could in the depths of the country, " said Dunham, 
 shaking her head. " Where at the least the passers- 
 by will give you good-day. So for the last ten 
 or fifteen years we 've been satisfied to keep our- 
 selves to ourselves, willy-nilly, as a body might 
 say. But it 's different with you, missie ; you 're 
 young, and have your life before you. It 's not 
 for me to advise you, 'm, but I would make friends 
 while I was young, in your place, and not leave 
 till it 's too late, Miss Jane. " 
 
 "That is just what my aunt said to me; that
 
 9 o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 I should have plenty of visits to make later on," 
 thought Jeanne, and she recalled her aunt's in- 
 junctions to be exclusive. "I must be very 
 careful whom I make friends with, however," 
 she thought, anxiously. 
 
 It seemed to her that all London lay open to 
 her choice; and the only question was where to 
 begin? It would have been hard to fathom the 
 depths of Jeanne's social ignorance. 
 
 She consulted Dunham no further, but thought 
 out the question of calls and callers for herself, 
 in the light of the foregoing hints, and of her lively 
 recollections of the visiting code of the Rector's 
 wife at Coed-Ithel. 
 
 "She said she never lost a moment calling on 
 new neighbours," thought Jeanne, "she said it 
 was the duty of the residents. I wonder why 
 nobody has called on me. Perhaps they think 
 it too soon after poor Aunt Caroline's death; or 
 perhaps they do not realise that any one is living 
 here, and think I am just the companion, or some- 
 body of that kind, waiting till the owner comes 
 home. But I am the lady of the house really. 
 I suppose it is my duty, as Dunham says, to 
 make a few friends, but it is very hard to know 
 where to begin. " 
 
 She turned over the pages of the Red-book 
 helplessly. 
 
 "The day after the first Sunday they came to 
 church she always went," said Jeanne, "I re-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 91 
 
 member that, because I asked her once why she 
 waited till then, as one was not to lose a moment 
 in welcoming them, and she said, only to give 
 them time to settle down. Well I suppose it 
 must be the people living in the same square who 
 are my neighbours, anyway they are the nearest. 
 The first time I see an arrival of a new family 
 here put in the paper, I will make a start," she 
 resolved. 
 
 She scanned the advertisements in the fashion- 
 able column of the Morning Post very regularly 
 for some days after making this resolution; and 
 her scrutiny was presently rewarded by the an- 
 nouncement that Mr. and the Hon. Mrs. Wheler 
 had arrived at 129 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 This was on a Friday. 
 
 Jeanne considerately allowed the proper interval 
 to elapse, and on Monday afternoon when starting 
 for her drive, she delivered an order to the aston- 
 ished William which he had to repeat twice to 
 Buckam on the box, before the coachman could 
 believe his ears. 
 
 "Please drive me to 129 Grosvenor Square. 
 I am going to pay a visit," said the lonely lady, 
 in a determined but shaking voice.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 1 
 
 MRS. WHELER had entertained a small party of 
 friends at an early luncheon, but when the clock 
 struck half past three, she began to hope that 
 they would not linger unduly over their coffee 
 and cigarettes in the drawing-room, as they 
 seemed much inclined to do lest her programme 
 for the afternoon be disarranged. 
 
 The butler, who was entirely in his employer's 
 confidence on such matters, was also growing 
 uneasy. He knew that Mrs. Wheler had an im- 
 portant engagement at the other end of town, 
 and he did not see how she would be able to keep 
 it, and be home again in time for her bridge party 
 at half past four, unless some sort of a move were 
 made. 
 
 But then neither did he see how he could hurry 
 the Duchess away. 
 
 He had already announced her Grace's car- 
 riage in a confidential whisper, not to inter- 
 rupt more than was necessary her Grace's 
 animated conversation with Mr. Wheler; and the 
 
 02
 
 THE LONELY LADY 93 
 
 Duchess said thank you, and went on talking 
 to her host as though nothing had happened. 
 
 Of the other ladies, one was intending to walk, 
 and being the least important of the three, did 
 not like to make the first move; and the other, 
 having no horses to consider, but a motor which 
 conveyed her so quickly from one spot to another 
 that she had some ado to fill up her afternoon in 
 proportion, was not sorry to dawdle over her cigar- 
 ette a little longer than usual. 
 
 The butler, being an adept at reading his 
 lady's almost expressionless face, decided, as a 
 desperate remedy, to admit callers; though Mrs. 
 Wheler was never at home to anybody except 
 by appointment, save one or two intimates, whose 
 names were specially registered in the butler's 
 brain. 
 
 Thus it came about that Jeanne was presently 
 ushered into the presence of eight ladies and 
 gentlemen seated round the spacious room; and 
 into the midst of a buzz of conversation which 
 the loud announcement of her name brought to 
 a sudden though a momentary pause. For the 
 space of a single second, eight pairs of eyes glanced 
 curiously towards the smiling, dimpling, blushing 
 countenance of the timid visitor. 
 
 Jeanne was abashed almost to faintness. Yet 
 the room and its occupants were instantly im- 
 pressed upon her consciousness, even as she 
 paused, hesitating, upon the threshold.
 
 94 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 A stately room, with red walls, dark pictures, 
 a quantity of gilding, many mirrors, and a polished 
 slippery floor. 
 
 One old bald-headed gentleman, two tall 
 middle-aged gentlemen, and one young, rather 
 small, fair gentleman. 
 
 A stout, short, commanding-looking lady, with 
 a curled grey front, and a red face, talking in a 
 very loud voice to the bald gentleman, and holding 
 long-handled glasses to her short-sighted eyes. 
 This was the Duchess. 
 
 A thin lady in rough tweed with a tartan blouse 
 and an air of great distinction. This was the 
 lady who did not feel important enough to get 
 up and go away, though she, and Mrs. Wheler, 
 and the butler, all wished that the party might 
 come to an end. An exquisite languid lady in 
 flowing draperies and a Gainsborough headpiece, 
 who was the owner of the motor brougham. 
 
 And a lady to whom the only epithet that could 
 be applied was the word "smart," and this was 
 Mrs. Wheler; though it did not occur to Jeanne 
 as a possibility, that the lady of the house, even 
 at an early and informal luncheon, could be 
 wearing a hat in her own drawing-room. 
 
 Mrs. Wheler was smart, and she was nothing 
 else in particular. Neither kind nor cross, in 
 temper; neither warm nor icy in disposition; 
 neither interested nor bored by life in general. 
 Even her appearance was of the negative order;
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 95 
 
 though it varied considerably with the changes 
 of fashion. 
 
 When waists were worn high, she was short- 
 waisted; when low, her body grew miraculously 
 longer. Her abundant hair had been fair, until 
 straw-coloured hair became too expressive, when 
 it blushed a modest Titian red, which was dark- 
 ening by easy stages into brown. Presently, 
 as she grew older, a few silver threads would 
 certainly appear, for Mrs. Wheler had a strong 
 sense of the fitness of things; and nothing would 
 have induced her to allow her hair to turn white t 
 "in a single night, " though when the time came, 
 a coiffure & la Marie Antoinette, with dark eye- 
 brows and lashes to form an agreeable contrast^ 
 would probably not be wanting. Yet she con- 
 trived to avoid all unpleasant obviousness of 
 the artificial; presenting only, so to speak, her 
 picturesqueness to the public, and keeping her 
 methods modestly in the background, as becomes 
 a true artist. 
 
 From habit Mrs. Wheler never made an engage- 
 ment without writing it down; so she kept her 
 memory clear for facts concerning that portion 
 of humanity in which she was chiefly interested. 
 Her mind was stored with their names; their 
 relationships recognised or unrecognised; their 
 doings and their undoings, and the approximate 
 value of their social or financial status. 
 
 Racing and card-playing received a large share
 
 96 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 of her conscious attention. Entertaining, visit- 
 ing, slumming, and theatre-going, had become 
 almost mechanical processes. Without referring 
 to her engagement book she could hardly have 
 told what she had been doing on the previous day. 
 
 Her mind, deprived of sufficient repose, learnt 
 to rest though her body was in action; and re- 
 mained blank, very often, whilst her person was 
 being rushed from one function to another, whilst 
 her lips were smiling, and her well-trained tongue 
 uttering short platitudes. 
 
 It required something out of the ordinary to 
 arrest her real attention. 
 
 Jeanne's appearance was something out of 
 the ordinary, and for a moment Mrs. Wheler's 
 mechanism of politeness ceased to work in 
 consequence. 
 
 Then recovering her presence of mind, and 
 recognising the butler's strategy at one and the 
 same moment, she advanced to meet her unknown 
 visitor, who was so obviously unable to distin- 
 guish her hostess, that general conversation was 
 immediately and politely resumed, to give her 
 an opportunity of explaining herself. 
 
 Nevertheless, the butler had triumphed, for 
 the admittance of an afternoon caller produced 
 the anticipated effect. 
 
 "Good gracious," said the Duchess, looking 
 across the room at the Empire clock, and not 
 perceiving that the hands were pointing to twenty
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 97 
 
 minutes past twelve, "I had no idea it was so 
 late. I must fly. Now you will promise to con- 
 sider what I have been saying, Mr. Wheler. It 
 is persons like yourself to whom we look in this 
 matter. Practical business-like men. " 
 
 Mr. Wheler. who was on the Stock Exchange, 
 and who desired rather to be considered fashion- 
 able than business-like, gave a somewhat sickly 
 smile, and declared himself already convinced by 
 the arguments of the Duchess, the more warmly 
 because she gave some evidence of a desire to 
 repeat them all over again from the beginning. 
 
 Whilst he was engaged in combating this 
 inclination by recapitulating them himself as 
 rapidly as possible, Mrs. Wheler shook hands with 
 Jeanne, and said, "How do you do?" in an un- 
 certain puzzled voice. 
 
 "It was then that Jeanne found courage to 
 utter the remark which she had rehearsed to her- 
 self at intervals ever since the announcement of 
 the Whelers' arrival in town had appeared in the 
 Morning Post. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you, Mrs. Wheler, and 
 I hope you are feeling a little more settled by this 
 time, Mrs. Wheler?" 
 
 The heartfelt kindness of her tone, and careful 
 repetition of Mrs. Wheler's name, were due to 
 Jeanne's determination to follow her model as 
 closely as possible. She reproduced the Rector's 
 wife with great exactness. 
 7
 
 9 8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 But Mrs. Wheler's astonishment at this address 
 was so painfully obvious that Jeanne was obliged 
 to descend into a stammering explanation, in 
 her own person. 
 
 " I live at 99, over the way, " said Jeanne. 
 "The house belonged to my aunt, Miss Marney 
 of Orsett, and she is dead, and I am living there 
 all alone till my brother comes home. I I saw 
 in the papers that you had only just arrived 
 so being such a near neighbour, I I thought I 
 would come and see you. " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, " said Mrs. Wheler, speechless. 
 
 The brown eyes grew larger, and the red cheeks 
 turned white. 
 
 "I am afraid I must have done something 
 wrong, or unusual, after all, " said Jeanne. 
 
 Mrs. Wheler's vacant expression offered so 
 little consolation, that she looked round, almost 
 wildly, as though for a means of escape from the 
 situation into which her ignorance had betrayed 
 her. 
 
 Her glance fell upon the face of the young 
 gentleman whose conversation with Mrs. Wheler 
 her entrance had interrupted. He was so close 
 that he must have heard the greetings which had 
 been exchanged between his hostess and her un- 
 invited guest, and Jeanne thought he looked rather 
 sorry for her; her brown eyes conveyed to him 
 an unconscious appeal for help. 
 
 The young man responded instantly to that
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 99 
 
 mute, almost despairing look, and flung himself 
 gallantly into the breach. 
 
 "Ninety-nine was my father's old house," he 
 said in very gentle and courteous tones. "Will 
 you introduce me to Miss chum chum chum," 
 with a polite mumble to cover his ignorance of 
 Jeanne's name. 
 
 "The Duke of Monaghan," said Mrs. Wheler's 
 mechanical tongue, before she remembered that 
 she did not know in the least to whom she was 
 presenting her visitor. 
 
 "Oh!" said Jeanne, she forgot her embar- 
 rassment in her surprise and delight, "are you 
 really the little boy who fell down the nursery 
 staircase?" 
 
 " I am indeed, " said the Duke. His blue eyes 
 regarded her with an expression in which mirth 
 and melancholy held equal shares. 
 
 "But I was told you were crippled for life," 
 she said ingenuously. 
 
 "Not quite so bad as that." He turned the 
 conversation dexterously. 
 
 " Did I not hear you say that Miss Marney of 
 Orsett was your aunt?" 
 
 "My great-aunt." 
 
 " My father had the honour of claiming cousin- 
 ship with her," said the Duke, politely. 
 
 "Yes, she told me she bought the house from 
 him. But then we are we must be related, 
 too, " said Jeanne, and her face, returning to its
 
 ioo THE LONELY LADY 
 
 natural colour, looked quite happy and animated 
 again. 
 
 "I hope so," said the Duke, with a little bow 
 which she thought rather charming, but very 
 old-fashioned in a boy of his years. Louis never 
 bowed like that. 
 
 Here there was a general movement among 
 the company, and every one advanced to take 
 leave of Mrs. Wheler, who was listening, petrified, 
 to this conversation. 
 
 The Duke springing from his seat, as his host- 
 ess rose, moved a pace or two forward, and 
 Jeanne saw that he was lame. 
 
 Poor "little heir"! 
 
 Jeanne, conscious of her own rustic strength 
 and ruddy health, felt very sorry for the Duke. 
 
 He was still rather little, scarcely taller than 
 herself; slight and fair, and absurdly delicate- 
 looking, she thought, for a man. 
 
 Jeanne had but one standard for manhood in 
 her heart, and the Duke fell grievously short of it. 
 
 Louis, at twenty years old, when she had seen 
 him last, in the very flower and perfection of 
 youth, had measured six foot one in his stockings. 
 She thought of his broad chest, his lithe slender 
 form and active springing gait, his strong, mus- 
 cular brown hands, and sunburnt face. 
 
 Poor sickly Duke! so little and weak and lame; 
 and colouring like a girl with the mere effort of 
 speaking to a stranger. Jeanne forgot her own
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 101 
 
 shyness in the warm pity which filled her 
 heart. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear, I had such a delightful con- 
 versation with your dear good man, I could hardly 
 tear myself away. I have been boring him quite 
 too dreadfully," said the Duchess, meaning to 
 be playful, and unaware that she was empha- 
 sising an unhappy truth. " Denis? " 
 
 " I am going to walk, mother, " said the Duke. 
 
 The Duchess looked vexed. 
 
 With another gallant effort, causing yet a fresh 
 variation from pallor to redness of his unfortu- 
 nately tell-tale complexion, the young man boldly 
 presented Jeanne to his parent, explaining the 
 connection very clearly and briefly as he did so. 
 
 "A new cousin, dear me, how charming!" said 
 the Duchess, looking rather disapprovingly at 
 Jeanne through her glasses. "Do come and see 
 me. I never understand relationships. It is 
 quite hopeless, you know, for a stupid person 
 like myself. I am generally in after five. Well, 
 if you won't come, Denis, I must go alone. " She 
 turned once more to her hostess. "Good-bye, 
 dear, it has been too nice seeing you again. Don't 
 forget Wednesday at four; and I shall depend on 
 you for all the prettiest things on our stall. " 
 
 Mrs. Wheler assured her that she would not for- 
 get, Mr. Wheler escorted her Grace down-stairs, 
 and the rest of the party gradually melted away. 
 
 The Duke in his turn shook hands, and Jeanne
 
 io2 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 watched him limping away across the great room, 
 with much concern lest he should slip and fall 
 upon the polished floor. 
 
 She came to herself with a start, observing 
 that Mrs. Wheler was obviously waiting for her too 
 to take leave and depart, though she did not speak 
 until the door had closed behind the Duke. 
 
 " I am afraid I must ask you to excuse me. 
 Pray don't think me rude, but I have an engage- 
 ment, " she said, with more civility than she would 
 have shown, perhaps, had the Duke not been so 
 good-natured as to claim cousinship with this 
 rather shabby stranger; but still, without any 
 kindness in her voice. Jeanne was too obviously 
 a nobody, too rustic in appearance and manner, 
 to make her a possible acquaintance for Mrs. 
 Wheler, let her be related to whom she would. 
 
 Mrs. Wheler knew the Duchess of Monaghan 
 well, and was acquainted with all her ways. 
 
 She had a loud and hearty manner, and was 
 always as gracious to nobodies as only really great 
 ladies can afford to be ; and she always asked them 
 to go and see her after five, and then forgot all 
 about them. 
 
 They generally went, and then they heard 
 that the Duchess was not at home, and derived 
 what satisfaction they might from leaving their 
 humble cards, and there was an end of it. 
 
 If she had really wished to seek the further ac- 
 quaintance of her new cousin she would have asked
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 103 
 
 her to lunch, thought the experienced Mrs. Wheler. 
 So she was civil but not empresste when she begged 
 Jeanne to excuse her. 
 
 "Oh, I will go at once, Mrs. Wheler," cried 
 Jeanne. She was distressed, but there were no 
 servants present to make her nervous, and in her 
 eyes Mrs. Wheler was a woman almost old enough 
 to be her mother, who would surely, now that 
 they were alone, be too kind to be angry, when 
 she knew that her visitor had only tres- 
 passed through ignorance, and was sincerely 
 penitent. 
 
 " Please forgive me, Mrs. Wheler, " said poor 
 rustic Jeanne, who had no idea how this constant 
 repetition of her name jarred upon the well-trained 
 instincts of her hostess, who was as full of con- 
 ventional good breeding as she was empty of 
 emotions. " In the country, where I was brought 
 up, our Rector's wife used to call upon neighbours 
 directly they arrived, and I thought it was the 
 same in London. I am afraid it is all wrong, and 
 I have done something dreadful. I saw it in all 
 your faces, somehow, as I came in, and I could 
 have sunk through the floor, Mrs. Wheler but 
 I am very lonely at home, and hoped I was going 
 the right way to make a few friends by being 
 neighbourly, and paying calls." 
 
 She looked anxiously into the impassive face. 
 What odd fishy eyes had Mrs. Wheler, thought 
 poor Jeanne; they looked through you, and at
 
 io 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 the wall beyond, as though you were transparent, 
 or not there at all. 
 
 " It would be very kind of you to explain why 
 it was wrong, Mrs. Wheler, " she faltered, and 
 she realised that with every word she had spoken 
 Mrs. Wheler had grown less interested, though 
 her vague civility of tone and manner never 
 faltered. 
 
 " I am afraid I have really no time for expla- 
 nations " she was walking to the fireplace, "of 
 course I quite understand it was a mistake," her 
 hand on the bell. "Pray think no more of it." 
 She rang twice. "Would you like a cab sent for? 
 oh, you have a carriage." 
 
 She looked at the servant who entered, and 
 this time her expressionless countenance spoke, 
 and dumbly directed him to show the unwelcome 
 guest out as speedily as might be. 
 
 Jeanne found herself walking down the grand 
 staircase, wrapt as it wer* 3 in a cloud of shame 
 and mortification. 
 
 The Duke's lameness caused him, perhaps, to 
 move very slowly. He was still in the hall, where 
 the invaluable butler was carefully fitting him 
 into his fur coat. His closely cropped head 
 emerged from the black astrachan collar, looking 
 very small and very fair; and he held his hat 
 in his hand, and bowed politely to Jeanne, as she 
 passed hurriedly by. She scarcely saw him. 
 
 The burning red of her cheeks, and the glis-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 105 
 
 tening of tears on her downcast black lashes, 
 caused him to divine that she had obtained scant 
 comfort from her explanation with Mrs. Wheler. 
 
 He limped to the front door, and looked after 
 her, in a hesitating, undecided manner, before 
 asking for a hansom. 
 
 For Jeanne, instead of waiting decorously upon 
 the steps of the mansion, for the late Miss Marney's 
 massive equipage to be drawn up before the front 
 door, flew past the astonished servants, past 
 the yet more astonished William, who was stand- 
 ing on the pavement with the rug over his arm; 
 and ran to the spot where Buckam and the fat 
 horses were sleepily waiting, half way down the 
 Square. She ran, she flew, she opened the door 
 for herself, she scrambled into the carriage, and 
 hid herself as quickly as she could within its 
 friendly shelter. 
 
 Poor William, rug on arm, saw nothing for it 
 but to pocket his dignity and run after her as fast 
 as he could; but he was not young, and he was 
 little accustomed to running, so that Jeanne had 
 a moment's breathing space in which to collect 
 her scattered wits and gather up her failing 
 powers, before he arrived, panting, at the door 
 of the brougham. 
 
 "Drive me home at once," she said with a 
 courage born of despair. "I am I am ill; at 
 least I am tired and I can't go any further 
 to-day. "
 
 io6 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 William touched his hat and mounted the box. 
 
 " She took and run like a lamplighter, and then 
 she said she was ill!" he said in deep amazement 
 to his fellow. 
 
 Jeanne held her head high as she descended 
 at her own front door, and walked through the 
 hall into the morning-room. But directly the 
 door was shut behind her, she sank upon the couch 
 and wept tears of humiliation. 
 
 "I must never let Louis know. He would be 
 ashamed of me. Oh, how could I be such a fool. 
 The sister of an officer and a gentleman! She 
 might have been a little nicer, and me in mourning. 
 If anybody in the kindness of their heart dropped 
 in to see me would I treat them so?" 
 
 Her tears relieved her a little; but alas, the 
 lady of the house, even though she be a lonely 
 lady, cannot weep at will. She cried with one 
 eye, so to speak, on the door, lest Hewitt should 
 come in to make up the fire before she had done; 
 and presently crept to her room to remove all 
 traces of her tears before Dunham should arrive 
 to put away her outdoor things. 
 
 Dunham had sternly insisted that Jeanne 
 must now be waited upon as beseemed the head 
 of a household so magnificent; consequently the 
 aged maid climbed the steep staircase for the 
 purpose of hanging up in the wardrobe the little 
 black hat and jacket which Jeanne could just as
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 107 
 
 easily have put away for herself, and for taking 
 out of it the plain black gown which was only one 
 of two that had been purchased as mourning for 
 Miss Marney. 
 
 But it pleased Dunham to maintain this sem- 
 blance of an occupation, and Jeanne was very 
 willing to give her pleasure, and indeed, thank- 
 ful for her company on any pretext, that 
 she might indulge herself in the luxury of 
 conversation. 
 
 As she mounted the nursery staircase in haste 
 to be beforehand with Dunham upon this occasion, 
 she cast a glance of pitying recollection at the 
 little white gate, and thought of the young man 
 who was paying a life-penalty for one woman's 
 carelessness. 
 
 " He was very good and he had nice blue eyes, 
 with a kind funny expression," she thought, 
 "but oh, I shall never be able to think of the 
 ' little heir ' again in the same way. He must -al- 
 ways have been fair and gentle, and not at all my 
 idea of a man. I thought of a sturdy, beautiful, 
 laughing boy like Louis used to be. Oh I wish 
 I could tell somebody what I have done this day. 
 I know I shall lie awake all night, thinking what 
 a fool I have made of myself. It would be 
 a relief to even tell Mrs. Dunham," but she 
 struggled bravely against the temptation. 
 
 "Oh dear, oh dear! But I must keep it secret, 
 if only for the sake of Louis, and because I am
 
 io8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 a de Courset. " Then she tried vainly to comfort 
 herself. 
 
 "After all, it was only a mistake." 
 
 She looked up at the simpering disdainful face 
 of the Comtesse Anne-Marie, which now smiled 
 upon her from the wall of her bedroom, where she 
 had ventured, now that the house belonged to 
 Louis, to suspend the triple frame of miniatures. 
 
 " Mrs. Wheler would not have turned you away 
 from her door," she said, proudly. 
 
 As soon as Dunham appeared, and after the 
 fashion of womankind, Jeanne played round the 
 edge of the secret she was determined not to 
 betray. 
 
 "Who do you think I met to-day, Mrs. 
 Dunham?" 
 
 " I am sure I can't say, ma'am, " said Dunham, 
 who, having already heard from William of her 
 young lady's extraordinary exit from 129 Gros- 
 venor Square, was burning with curiosity as to 
 the why and the wherefore of such behaviour. 
 
 "The little boy who fell down the nursery 
 staircase here! He is not a cripple, but slightly 
 lame. He is grown up now, but he is still not 
 very big, and looks very delicate for a man. The 
 Duke of Monaghan." 
 
 "Well to be sure! I daresay you mentioned, 
 ma'am, that the old rooms was kept just as they 
 was?" 
 
 "I had very little conversation with him,"
 
 109 
 
 said Jeanne, rather hastily, "I was very sorry 
 for him though," and she added to herself, "and 
 he looked a little sorry for me." 
 
 "Sorry for him, ma'am! It's not dukes and 
 such-like as usually calls for sorrow," said Dunham 
 rather shocked. 
 
 " If you had seen him, Mrs. Dunham, you 
 would have been sorry for him too. He is so 
 delicate-looking ; and so fair that he blushes like 
 a girl. Of course he is only a boy, and I dare- 
 say he may be very shy." 
 
 "The accident happened over twenty years 
 ago, ma'am; I can't quite think him so young 
 as all that," said Dunham, rather stiffly. 
 
 "Is it possible? Then he must be as old as 
 Louis when he left home! How dreadful! for 
 beside him he would look as though a breath 
 might blow him away. I don't mean he is n't 
 very nice-looking in his way, Mrs. Dunham, but 
 if a man is not straight and strong and active, I 
 don't see what he 's fit for," said Jeanne, whose 
 views of mankind were strictly limited to the 
 horizon of Louis. 
 
 "Well, 'm there 's many things he 's fit for, 
 if you ask me," said Dunham, with an increase 
 of asperity. "A Duke is a Duke, and you may 
 depend on it his Grace would find plenty of strong 
 active men only too thankful to stand in his 
 shoes, even if one of them is filled with a lame 
 foot."
 
 no THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "His Grace is that what he is called?" said 
 Jeanne. "It sounds very pretty, but somehow 
 more appropriate for a nobleman of the olden 
 time, in a court suit and a powdered wig, than 
 for just an ordinary young man with a black coat 
 and a bunch of violets in his buttonhole." 
 
 "Dukes is not ordinary men, ma'am," said 
 Dunham reproachfully, "I was brought up to 
 respect my betters. " 
 
 "Do you think that his title makes him 
 your better?" said Jeanne, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I do," said Dunham, who had 
 the courage of her opinions. " I 'm no Radical. 
 Church and State is what I always says. If his 
 ancestors was n't no better than mine it stands 
 to reason they would n't have been made Dukes." 
 
 "There is something in that, Mrs. Dunham, 
 and I 'm rather glad you like titles so much, for 
 I have always thought them prettier than plain 
 names myself. But Uncle Roberts is a Radical, 
 and he says he despises them. " 
 
 "Most likely your uncle Roberts has never 
 come across them, miss," said Dunham, snorting. 
 
 "I don't know that he has," said Jeanne, 
 rather crestfallen. 
 
 "People as has them, is glad enough to wear 
 them, ma'am, knowing well enough it gives them 
 a right to be respected more than common folk. " 
 
 "Are folk who have titles so much more re- 
 spected than other folks unless they are great
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE in 
 
 really great I mean in other ways as well?" said 
 Jeanne, rather doubtfully. "Living with Uncle 
 Roberts I have never realised that. He always 
 speaks of them as though he were rather sorry 
 for them than otherwise, and Louis never said 
 anything about it." Suddenly her face lit up 
 with pleasure. " But now that Louis is rich, 
 perhaps he will be able to buy back the Chateau 
 de Courset, and the land that belonged to his 
 ancestors, and claim his right to be called the 
 Marquis de Courset. You would like to hear him 
 called that, Mrs. Dunham, would n't you?" 
 
 "I can't say I should, Miss Jane." 
 
 "Not! But why?" said Jeanne, in surprise. 
 
 "Well ma'am, since you ask me, I have no 
 opinion of foreign titles. An honest English 
 marquis is a very different thing to a foreign 
 marquee." 
 
 "Why is it different?" asked Jeanne, in a mor- 
 tified tone. 
 
 "I can't say why, but so it is, 'm. People 
 think nothing of it. In fact, if anything, they 
 think the worse of you. I hope the Captain will 
 be satisfied to stop as he is, for if he goes calling 
 himself a marquee, or anything of that kind, it 's 
 my opinion," said Dunham, firmly, "that as 
 likely as not, wherever the poor young gentleman 
 goes, he '11 be taken for an adventurer or an im- 
 postor, and get suspected of being no better than 
 he should."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE CALLER 
 
 HEWITT threw open the door of the morning- 
 room, and with swelling chest and sonorous tones 
 of deepest gratification announced, 
 
 " The Duke of Monaghan. " 
 
 Jeanne came forward to greet her first visitor, 
 looking both shy and eager, and the Duke as 
 he shook hands, said, 
 
 " I hope I need not apologise for venturing to 
 call, unasked, upon my cousin." 
 
 It did not occur to his inexperienced hostess 
 that this introductory remark had been almost 
 as carefully prepared as her own opening speech 
 to Mrs. Wheler. 
 
 " Indeed, I 'm only surprised and delighted, " 
 she said with honest joy, "I think it most kind 
 and neighbourly of you to come." 
 
 "Cousinly!" he said, accepting, with a smile, 
 the low chair she drew forward for him as solicit- 
 ously as though he were really the helpless 
 cripple she had imagined him to be. 
 
 "Do you know that nobody has been to see 
 me once since I arrived?" she said, wistfully, 
 
 lit
 
 THE LONELY LADY 113 
 
 "except professional gentlemen" (with a sudden 
 reminiscence of her aunt's reproof) "who do not 
 count as visitors." 
 
 "Don't they count?" said the Duke, amused. 
 
 "They do not," she said firmly. She felt that, 
 though the Rector's wife might make mistakes, 
 old Miss Marney must know better than this 
 youthful gentleman, smile as he would. 
 
 Jeanne, however, felt inclined to smile too, as 
 she looked at him. 
 
 It was certainly refreshing to see somebody 
 young, and the Duke looked very young indeed 
 to Jeanne, hardly more than a boy. 
 
 He was also pleasant to behold. His clothes 
 were so severely well cut, his collar so glossy t 
 his boots so spotless, his fair hair so closely 
 cropped, his buttonhole of violets so fresh. 
 
 Louis had always been particular about his 
 clothes. 
 
 Jeanne smiled approvingly at her visitor, and 
 he divined her approval and was secretly pleased, 
 not knowing that it arose entirely from her fond- 
 ness for seeing everybody and everything clean 
 and tidy. 
 
 "Do many professional people come to see 
 you?" he asked with polite curiosity. 
 
 "Not very many. Mr. Valentine came this 
 morning, to explain to me all about the power 
 of attorney, you know, that Louis is sending him 
 and other business matters," with dignity. 
 
 8
 
 n 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "This house and everything in it belongs to my 
 brother Louis, but Mr. Valentine is to manage it 
 all till he comes home, and I am taking care of 
 the furniture and pictures. He is a soldier, you 
 know, and now he is in Somaliland. He must 
 have arrived in Obbia by this time. Just as he 
 was coming home he was ordered there, from 
 South Africa. He was all through the Boer War. 
 And never was sick nor sorry once, nor wounded, 
 though he was in so many battles." 
 
 " He was very lucky, " said the Duke. 
 
 Jeanne interpreted his expression as one of 
 regret, and answered it with the outspoken sym- 
 pathy of a child: 
 
 " It must have been dreadful for you not to be 
 able to go." 
 
 He coloured, but replied as simply as she had 
 spoken : 
 
 " Thank you, yes, it was. But both my brothers 
 went. It was rather rough luck on you, was n't it, 
 his going? I suppose he is your only brother." 
 
 " How did you guess that? " she said, surprised. 
 
 His blue eyes twinkled more than ever. He 
 was certainly a very pleasant-looking young man, 
 though so unfortunate as to be neither tall nor 
 strong. 
 
 " He is my only brother, and my twin. If you 
 would like to hear about him but of course I 
 don't know if you would be interested still, he 
 is your cousin too," she said. The soft orange-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 115 
 
 brown eyes glowed beneath the black lashes, and 
 the fresh red lips parted, as she looked at him, pa- 
 thetically unconscious of her own eagerness, yet ob- 
 viously trembling with the hope that here, at last, 
 she had found one who would be interested in 
 Louis. 
 
 The Duke too was young, and solitary, and sym- 
 pathetic. He drew his low chair a little closer 
 to the Book of Beauty which lay upon the low 
 table dividing them. 
 
 Her freshness and sincerity charmed him now 
 as they had charmed him at his first meeting 
 with her, when he had realised instantly (being, 
 in spite of his youth, a man of the world) that 
 her unconventional behaviour arose from no 
 want of modesty, but from inexperience. 
 
 Her apparent boldness of action was as the 
 boldness of the robin perching on the gardener's 
 very spade so timid that he will fly at a sudden 
 movement, so confident that he trusts without 
 proof or warrant the friendship of mankind. 
 
 Before Hewitt and William appeared with the 
 tea-things, the Duke knew almost as much about 
 his cousin Louis as Jeanne did herself. 
 
 He learnt of his successes at school, at Sand- 
 hurst, and in the army ; he learnt that she had not 
 seen him for five years that she thought of him 
 still as the bright, eager boy who had left her 
 when he was scarce twenty years old, and that her 
 life and heart and soul were filled with his image.
 
 ii 6 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 And he wondered how much the real Louis re- 
 sembled the Louis of her faithful dreams. 
 
 "Look I have his new photographs; the first 
 he has had done since he left England. And he 
 is so changed I can hardly believe it is Louis. 
 But oh, how glad I am to have them, " said the 
 little sister, and she fetched, with hands that 
 actually trembled with pleasure and excitement, 
 a shabby desk from a corner where it lay hid 
 from Dunham's disapproving eye. 
 
 " I brought it down from my own room, for it 
 gives me something to do, when I feel too dull," 
 she said apologetically, "to sort and arrange his 
 letters and read them. Some of them are very 
 interesting, at least to me," she added hurriedly, 
 alarmed lest the Duke should ask to see them. 
 " Of course they are rather private, for I am the 
 only person he has to confide in, in the whole 
 world, and it is just the same with me. There is 
 only Louis, really. To-day I have the first letter 
 he has written since he heard of Aunt Caroline's 
 death, and of her leaving her great fortune to 
 him. Doesn't it seem wonderful? For Louis 
 always wished to be rich. " 
 
 " Is he very glad?" said the Duke. 
 
 " He is not so glad but that I thought he would 
 have been gladder," she said, unconsciously 
 betraying her disappointment. "But Louis is 
 always original and never takes things as one 
 would expect. He is more full of the expedition,
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 117 
 
 and shipping the horses, than of anything else, 
 but yes he is very glad. He says, 'Now all 
 your dreams may come true, ' and that is a great 
 deal for a boy, who is apt to laugh at one's foolish 
 dreams, you know." 
 
 The Duke looked at the photograph of his new 
 cousin, and saw a tall young soldier in khaki, 
 with a face so much older than Jeanne's that it 
 was difficult to believe him her twin brother. 
 
 A stern good-looking face; with marked eye- 
 brows meeting over the bridge of an aquiline nose, 
 and a thick moustache partially veiling the short 
 upper lip. 
 
 " He is a fine fellow," said the Duke in interested 
 tones. " I do not wonder you are proud of him. " 
 
 "Any one would be proud of him, for there is 
 nothing he cannot do. He could never bear 
 to be beaten," she said, holding her head high. 
 
 "He does not look as though he would ever 
 be beaten. I am sure he will get on. " 
 
 "If they give him a chance, if they are not 
 jealous of him, but I am always afraid they 
 will be jealous he is so young, and so clever," 
 said Jeanne, shaking her head over this mysterious 
 reference to the powers that be. "And Louis 
 is not one to think of his own interest. He is 
 only too disinterested, a little too scornful and 
 quick to show people what they ought to do or 
 he used to be ; but he had very persuasive ways too. 
 He was the only person who could ever manage
 
 n8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Uncle Roberts. And I daresay he has grown wiser 
 still, with all he has been through, poor boy." 
 
 A tear rolled unheeded down her cheek and 
 splashed on to the little bundle of letters clasped 
 in her lap, as she told him how Louis in his poverty 
 had yet managed to insure his life for his sister's 
 benefit, and to pay his debts. 
 
 " To think he will never be anxious about money 
 any more," she said, wiping her eyes. "It was 
 that I could not bear, that a boy like him should 
 be anxious ; it was foreign to his nature. He was 
 so generous that he could n't help spending, poor 
 boy, but it was his only fault. And now Aunt 
 Caroline has saved him from those worries and 
 troubles that made us wonder whether he would 
 ever be able to stick to the army, after all he had 
 gone through to get there. " 
 
 She now told him about Uncle Roberts, and 
 the why and wherefore of her arrival in Grosve- 
 nor Square, and how much disappointed she was 
 in London life, but he thought her so pretty and 
 so earnest as she said it that he did not even smile. 
 
 Young people are usually fond of talking about 
 themselves, when they find an attentive and 
 sympathetic auditor, and perhaps the Duke was 
 no exception to the rule. 
 
 But he had the advantage of Jeanne in good- 
 breeding, and thus found himself constrained to 
 be, upon this occasion, only a listener. 
 
 His courteous attention never wavered for an
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 119 
 
 instant; though it is possible he might not have 
 been so exemplary in his politeness had her per- 
 sonality appealed to him less strongly. As it 
 was, he enjoyed the opportunity her conversation 
 afforded him to observe her at his leisure; as he 
 rested comfortably in poor Miss Caroline's easiest 
 chair, sheltered by a glass screen from the roaring 
 fire which Hewitt had built up, with a zeal pro- 
 portionate to the visitor's rank. 
 
 She was dressed in the plainest of black mourn- 
 ing gowns, with snowy collar and wristbands; 
 but her hands and throat were white and soft 
 enough to bear the contrast. 
 
 He thought he had never seen colouring so 
 pure with eyes and hair so dark ; nor half so pretty 
 an effect as the pointed shadows cast by those 
 down-cast black lashes upon the clear red of 
 her cheeks. 
 
 Her beauty was beauty of the round, childish, 
 dimpled order; but she looked so healthy, so in- 
 nocent and so modest, that her little rusticities 
 were all "in the picture, " as the young man told 
 himself in the jargon of the day. 
 
 It was only the setting that was all wrong. 
 
 This garish room with its meaningless mixture 
 of modern fashion, and relics, real or imitation, 
 of a by-gone day. 
 
 This wistful creation of an old woman trying 
 to identify herself with the present, which she 
 neither understood nor cared for, instead of
 
 120 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 clinging to the past which was one with her, and 
 to which she belonged. 
 
 Typical of Aunt Caroline was the juxtaposition 
 of her antiquated harp and a brand-new Bech- 
 stein grand piano; as was the melange of Moore's 
 Irish melodies and Bellini's operas, with the 
 latest burlesques of the day, in her music-holder. 
 
 Jeanne knew not a note of music. Her studies 
 had not included pianoforte playing; partly on 
 account of Cecilia's jealousy, and partly because 
 the Rector's wife had pointed out that, since 
 there was no piano at Coed-Ithel, it would be 
 waste of time for her to learn. She had been 
 very glad to be spared the trouble, for Cecilia's 
 scales and exercises did not sound very tempting, 
 and the less so because Jeanne had an ear for 
 harmony. 
 
 Miss Caroline's new piano was therefore wasted 
 upon her niece; but the Duke was a musician, 
 and had consequently noted it directly he entered 
 the apartment which, as he observed, made such 
 an inappropriate background for Jeanne's rustic 
 prettiness. 
 
 So she was a farmer's niece. That of course 
 accounted for it all. He saw her, as in a picture, 
 at home upon the mountains, her dark hair blow- 
 ing in the wind, her red cheeks and dark eyes 
 bright in the sunshine of her native Wales, her 
 pretty hands busied among the flowers of a garden 
 bounded by tall hedges of clipped yew or working
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 121 
 
 in the cool dark dairy among the red earthen 
 pans of frothing milk. 
 
 In such places would this simple maid be at 
 home, but never never in a modern drawing- 
 room. Starting from a reverie, he found his 
 hostess inviting him, but with a pretty solicitude 
 and hesitation, to visit the old nurseries if he chose. 
 
 "Nothing is changed," said little Jeanne. 
 "There is the white gate at the top of the steep 
 staircase, which your father, I suppose, had put 
 up." 
 
 "I don't remember that," he said, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 "Of course not. It was put up after your 
 dreadful accident," she said with pitying eyes 
 and lowered voice. " But that is the only change. 
 There are the barred windows, and the nursery- 
 rhyme paper only it is rather faded and dirty 
 I am afraid." 
 
 "Ah, I recollect that," he said quite eagerly. 
 'As I walked up Pippin Hill,' was my favourite, 
 because the pretty maid was so very pretty, and 
 the hill so remarkably steep. And the other was 
 Curly-locks sitting on a cushion to ' sew a fine 
 seam'!" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Jeanne, delighted. "But 
 there are several others, Tom the Piper's son, 
 and Simple Simon." 
 
 " So there were, I can see it all perfectly. " 
 
 "You have a very good memory then, for
 
 122 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 you must have been quite a baby, since it was 
 over twenty years ago. " 
 
 " I was nearly six years old. " 
 
 "Nearly six! And it was over twenty years 
 ago! Then you must be as old as I am," she 
 said, astonished. "Louis and I were twenty- 
 five in October." 
 
 " I was twenty-five last April, " he said smiling. 
 "I am even a little older than you are!" 
 
 "And I have been thinking of you as quite 
 a boy, about eighteen or nineteen," she said, 
 ingenuously. 
 
 He would have minded more had he been 
 five years younger, and above all, had she not 
 blushed as she said it; as it was, he rather enjoyed 
 her discomfiture. 
 
 " I am afraid I must put off visiting the scene 
 of my disaster, " he said, smiling, as he rose from 
 the low chair before the fire. " I have trespassed 
 upon your good nature rather a long time already. 
 But perhaps I venture to hope you will let 
 me come again one day?" 
 
 He stood beside her, and held the hand she 
 gave him for a moment longer than is quite usual 
 in shaking hands; but Jeanne was too fluttered 
 to observe it. 
 
 "Must you go?" she said with sincere regret. 
 "Oh yes, please come again, and let it be soon, 
 as soon as you can; for I should like to ask you 
 so many things, which it would be easier to ask
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 123 
 
 you than Mr. Valentine, since you are my cousin, 
 and young though not so young as I fancied," 
 she laughed shyly. 
 
 "It is much easier to talk to people of one's 
 own age, " said the Duke. 
 
 "That is just it. But it is one of my chief 
 faults that I talk too much when once I set off, 
 and don't let the other person talk at all; and 
 then they go away, and I recollect they have said 
 nothing only listened to me " 
 
 This was so much the true state of the case in 
 the present instance that the Duke could not 
 help laughing outright. 
 
 " It will be my turn to talk when I come again, " 
 he said consolingly. 
 
 "That reminds me of Louis; when he used to 
 come home from school, we took it in turns by 
 the clock, to speak. Five minutes each. There 
 was so much to say," said Jeanne, seriously. 
 " I had no idea I should have had so much to say 
 to you, however. But all these weeks and weeks I 
 have been so silent that I suppose it all had to come 
 out with a rush. Yet I did want to ask you 
 
 "Anything you will?" 
 
 "Was it a very wrong thing I did the other 
 day, going to call on Mrs. Wheler?" 
 
 "Not in the least wrong. In the country it 
 would have been quite right. I saw at once why 
 you had mistaken. It was just that you were not 
 used to London."
 
 124 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "Then what is the rule here?" 
 
 " Here you may live in a house for twenty years, 
 and scarcely know your next door neighbour by 
 sight." 
 
 "Then how do you ever make new friends?" 
 
 "People are introduced to you and you ask 
 them to call " he said laughing and reddening, 
 "just as you might have asked me, only you 
 didn't." 
 
 "But I would in a moment if I had known it 
 was a right thing to do," Jeanne assured him, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "I hoped that was so, and that is why, being 
 your cousin, I ventured to come," he said, and 
 his blue eyes twinkled merrily. "Is there any- 
 thing else you wish to ask me? " 
 
 "Only this: I am afraid you will think me 
 ignorant, but if I am ignorant, it is better to tell 
 the truth. I do not quite know, for instance, 
 what I ought to call you, nor even know how I 
 should address a letter to you not that I was 
 thinking of writing " she added hurriedly. 
 
 The Duke appeared not to notice her confusion. 
 
 "I should like you if you would as I am 
 undoubtedly related to you through the Marneys 
 of Orsett, to call me Cousin Denis as my other 
 cousins do " he said instantly. "And I am 
 afraid you will think me very ignorant, for I was 
 obliged to ask for ' Miss Marney's niece ' ! " And 
 as I am very bad at knowing how to spell people's
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 125 
 
 names, even when I do know them, if you will 
 be kind enough to write down yours for me, 
 I will write down mine for you. " 
 
 Jeanne moved with alacrity to the writing 
 table and set forth materials for this purpose. 
 
 "I should like to call you Cousin Denis very 
 much, and I hope you will call me Cousin Jeanne, " 
 she said brightening up. "Duke" sounds so 
 unnatural somehow, to me. And I can't tell 
 you how glad I am to find some relations. I 
 have always longed to be like other people, and 
 have cousins and uncles and aunts. Uncle 
 Roberts is a bachelor, you see, and the last of 
 his family; and Aunt Caroline was a spinster, 
 and the last of the Marneys of Orsett. " 
 
 "Orsett Hall was burnt down, I remember," 
 said the Duke. "I have always heard it was 
 one of the finest places in the West of England, 
 noted for its picture gallery." 
 
 "Most of the pictures were saved, you know," 
 said Jeanne. "They are upstairs." 
 
 " I should like to see them some day," he said 
 with great animation. 
 
 " I will ask Mrs. Pyke to uncover them. They 
 are all covered up." 
 
 "Covered up, but why?" 
 
 " Mrs. Pyke is afraid of the gold frames being 
 fly-blown; and Aunt Caroline was afraid the 
 London smoke would hurt them," explained 
 Jeanne. "You see she could not get used to
 
 i 2 6 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 London smoke after living for sixty years in the 
 country." 
 
 "And such a beautiful country." 
 
 "Do you know it?" 
 
 "My mother has a house on the other side of 
 the county, near Exmoor. We used to be there 
 a great deal." 
 
 " I hoped you lived in London. " 
 
 "I live in Ireland," he said smiling, "but we 
 are a good deal in London too. My mother likes it. " 
 
 "I had looked forward to London; but now 
 I am quite sure I like the country far, far bet- 
 ter, " she said mournfully. "Still " she bright- 
 ened up again. " It is nicer now that I know I 
 have relations here. It is very pleasant to have 
 relations. " 
 
 " I hope you may find me a pleasant relation, " 
 he said and he made her another grave little bow, 
 in the manner Jeanne had obseived before to be 
 so old-fashioned, and yet so pleasing, in a person 
 of his years. 
 
 As he opened the door she sprang forward, 
 blushing even more than ever. 
 
 "Cousin Denis would you would you like 
 one of his photographs?" said Jeanne. "He has 
 sent me six. I I could spare you a copy if you 
 liked." 
 
 "I should like it of all things," said the Duke, 
 and he received it gratefully. 
 
 "I wonder if that was right, or too too fa-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 127 
 
 miliar, " thought Jeanne, as the door closed upon 
 him, and she ran to the bell and rang it, as she 
 had observed Mrs. Wheler did, for her departing 
 guests. "Oh! I hope I have not babbled 
 as Louis used to call it too much. But he was 
 so kind, and I am sure he was interested. So 
 now the Duchess will see Louis's photo, for he 
 will certainly show it to her. I hope she will be 
 as much struck with it as poor Aunt Caroline was 
 with the one in my locket. Or more, since Louis 
 is handsomer than ever. But how he is changed 
 it is not his laughing face. The war has aged 
 him or perhaps seeing so many of his comrades 
 die. Oh, Louis, Louis if you would but come 
 safely home." 
 
 The serious eyes of the photograph seemed 
 to return her gaze, and to suggest that thoughts 
 unspeakably sad and lofty lay behind that grave 
 young brow. 
 
 Decidedly Louis had grown older. 
 
 She turned with relief to the familiar, boyish 
 face in the locket; now restored to its resting- 
 place next her heart. 
 
 "When he talks and laughs with me his dear 
 face will come back to me as it used to be, " she 
 said, and the tears filled her brown eyes. "Oh, 
 Louis I have waited so long that I sometimes 
 feel the day will never come." 
 
 As Jeanne changed her day gown for the plain
 
 i 2 8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 black muslin which Dunham had placed ready 
 for her, and insisted she should wear every even- 
 ing for her solitary dinner, she received, instead 
 of the delighted congratulations she expected, 
 a solemn warning from her self-appointed maid 
 and guardian. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I don't deny it was attentive 
 of the young gentleman to call though to my 
 thinking it 's a pity he should have waited till my 
 poor lady was dead, what was nearer to him than 
 ever you was, Miss Jane but like seeks like. 
 And Hewitt tells me his Grace is young-looking for 
 his age, as you are yourself, Miss Jane. Eighteen 
 or twenty I would give you, and not a day more. " 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dunham, I hope I look older than 
 he does." 
 
 " Maybe so and maybe not. There 's his age 
 in Debrett for all to see, and Hewitt and me 
 looked it out this very day. But it's a very distant 
 cousinship if at all, as Mrs. Pyke has been telling. 
 I would have liked it better, ma'am, if the Duchess, 
 his mamma, had come along with him. I don't 
 hold much, ma'am, with single young gentlemen 
 calling on single young ladies without their mam- 
 imas coming with them." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dunham, what could be the harm?" 
 said Jeanne. She felt inclined to cry. Was she 
 to shut the front door in the face of her only 
 visitor to please Dunham? 
 
 Had she made another mistake? People living
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 129 
 
 in Grosvenor Square were governed by rules that 
 would never occur to the inhabitants of Coed-Ithel, 
 where if one was lucky enough to possess a cousin, 
 he would be' made welcome as a matter of course. 
 
 She thought of the Duke, his politeness, his 
 gentleness, above all his lameness. How could 
 she appear ungrateful for the kindness he had 
 shown? She blushed as she recalled her warm 
 and pressing invitation to him to call again as 
 soon as might be. Jeanne began to feel Dunham's 
 surveillance a tiresome thing; but she had lived 
 under authority all her life, and had not the 
 courage to defy the old woman. 
 
 The brightness died out of her eyes and 
 cheeks, and the dull weary expression returned. 
 Her lips quivered. She yearned so terribly for 
 companionship. 
 
 "Is there anything more I can do for you, 
 ma'am?" 
 
 "Nothing more, thank you," said Jeanne, with 
 sinking heart. 
 
 Dunham had done enough for one evening, 
 was her dismal reflection. Spoilt the recollection 
 of the first happy afternoon she had spent since 
 her arrival; and all her anticipations of future 
 visits from her kind cousin Denis. 
 
 "Are you quite sure, Mrs. Dunham," she fal- 
 tered, " that I ought not to have visits from single 
 gentlemen, who are relations however nice and 
 polite, and well known they may be?"
 
 i 3 o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 " Not without their mammas has called, ma'am. 
 I 'm very sure of that. If you was n't alone it 
 would be another matter." 
 
 " If I was n't alone I should n't want him," 
 said Jeanne, almost petulantly. "After all I 
 was introduced to his mamma, Mrs. Dunham, 
 and she asked me to go and see her. " 
 
 "Then I should go, ma'am." 
 
 "Would that make it all right for Cousin 
 for the Duke to come and see me, do you think?" 
 
 " It 's not for me to advise my betters, ma'am. 
 I hope I know my place too well. A hint is a 
 very different thing to giving advice, " said Dun- 
 ham, closing her thin lips in a manner which, as 
 Jeanne knew by this time, meant that either she 
 had nothing else to say, or that, having more in 
 her mind than prudence permitted her to reveal, 
 she intended to keep it all to herself. 
 
 "Mrs. Dunham is a very unsatisfactory com- 
 panion, " sighed Jeanne. 
 
 As she went down the echoing stone staircase 
 of the mournful empty house, and walked into 
 the silent morning-room to await Hewitt's solemn 
 announcement of dinner, she was seized with a 
 sudden despair. 
 
 "I won't I can't bear it any longer," cried 
 Jeanne, " I am too wretched and solitary. I 
 shall go mad here all alone, waiting and waiting 
 for Louis, and nobody allowed to come near me. 
 It is all very fine to say I am taking care o f his
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 131 
 
 furniture and his house, but what do they leave 
 for me to do?" 
 
 She looked wildly round for inspiration, and 
 her eyes fell on her shabby desk, standing among 
 the costly trifles on the occasional table, and 
 looking sadly out of place there. 
 
 Yet how solid and handsome she had thought the 
 old leather case when it stood on the painted 
 window ledge of her attic at home. 
 
 At home. 
 
 The word brought the inspiration which Jeanne 
 was unconsciously seeking; it pointed out the 
 way of escape, even for a moment, from the in- 
 tolerable ennui of her life in Grosvenor Square. 
 
 She took an instant resolve. To-morrow morn- 
 ing would it could be to-night she would 
 go home to Coed-Ithel, and entreat her Uncle 
 Roberts either to come back with her, or to let 
 her stay at home till Louis returned. At least 
 Uncle Roberts would not tell her that it was not 
 his place to advise her ; and though his experience 
 of what should or could be done by young ladies 
 living in Grosvenor Square must be very limited 
 he was nearly as old (in Jeanne's eyes) , and quite 
 as sensible as Dunham. 
 
 He had sometimes talked of his intention to go 
 and see the sights of London before he died. 
 
 Surely she could put it to him delicately, that 
 now was the very time, since he could not expect 
 to live for ever.
 
 132 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne would have been glad enough to see 
 the sights of London herself had she been quite 
 certain what and where they were. 
 
 But she had not liked to enquire, lest she should 
 be suspected of hankering after amusements 
 instead of mourning her aunt; her kind aunt 
 who had given all she had in the world to Louis. 
 
 Secretly Jeanne felt quite sure that Miss Caroline 
 would rather have sympathised than otherwise 
 with her wish for companionship, and her longing 
 to let a little brightness in upon the dulness of 
 her life; but she was not by any means so sure 
 of Dunham, and it was Dunham who now prac- 
 tically governed the house, and had almost as- 
 sumed Miss Marney's place therein. Mrs. Pyke 
 was too old, and Hewitt too stupid, to contend 
 against her rule. 
 
 The old servants clung faithfully to their 
 duties, and watched with jealous eyes for the 
 least symptom of a desire on the part of the little 
 upstart stranger to rebel in the slightest degree 
 against the traditions of the house. 
 
 Jeanne was uneasily conscious of their watch- 
 fulness, and it increased her timidity and dis- 
 comfort in her solitary state. 
 
 She respected Dunham, and Pyke, and even 
 the serious upper housemaid, who never, it seemed 
 to her, spoke at all; even Hewitt and William 
 and the stout coachman held some share in her 
 regard. They were all so respectable, so steady,
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 133 
 
 and so faithful to their duties. But she could 
 not help, for all that, secretly looking forward 
 to the time when Louis should descend like a 
 bombshell upon this dull and solemn household, 
 and scatter the old traditions and the silence 
 and the solemnity to the winds. Louis with 
 his merry laugh, and imperious will, and cheerful 
 disregard of difficulties. 
 
 Far from never allowing young gentlemen to 
 come near the house without their mammas, 
 thought Jeanne, indignantly (for the phrase ran- 
 kled), she was assured he would, on the contrary, 
 fill it with his friends from morning till night ; and 
 Louis had many friends, for he was constantly 
 referring with enthusiasm to one or the other of 
 them. A revelation was certainly in store for the 
 old servants. 
 
 She took out his last letter. 
 
 "Of course the cable couldn't go into detail" 
 (Louis had written), "but it looks as though our 
 hard times were over for evermore, my Jeannie 
 dear. If old Valentine and Thingumbob are 
 my solicitors now, (sounds very magnificent) - 
 they will see you have everything you want in this 
 world, till I can arrange to go shares with you, 
 as of course I shall when I come home. I 'm 
 writing them all sorts of directions by this very 
 mail". . . (That was so like Louis! always 
 perfectly ready and willing to give orders, where
 
 i 3 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne would have hesitated and scrupled for 
 weeks). . . "Oh my Jeannie, if you knew what 
 an immense load this had lifted off my chest. God 
 bless poor Aunt Caroline. I shall be able to write 
 more when I get your letters and Valentine's. I 
 hear from my boss here that he knows the firm, 
 and it 's a first-rate west-end firm, so I can trust 
 the old boy straight away, which is a comfort. 
 Thank God it came just before I started, which 
 enables me to do all necessary business before I leave, 
 besides sending me off with a light heart. My 
 chief advises me to send old Valentine a power of 
 attorney which he thinks will facilitate matters for 
 you greatly. . . I have been so occupied that I 've 
 had no moment to sit down and write a coherent 
 letter, and now that I try I can't concentrate my 
 thoughts. I went on board the ship this morning, 
 and after three years' blissful forgetfulness of ships, 
 the same old feeling of nausea came over me that 
 always assails one as one gets the first whiff of engine- 
 room, kitchens, etc., and all the vile things that make 
 life on board intolerable to many landsmen. . . . 
 
 " / am so anxious for your first letter, writ on 
 receipt of my telegram about Somaliland. I hope 
 you won't be too disappointed, my darling Jeannie, 
 but quite cheerful when you think it is to be but a 
 short trip. No more three-year wars, I hope. 
 If you can find any, send me some maps of the 
 country I 'm going to, but nothing else, however 
 rich we may be !
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 135 
 
 "God bless you, my gentle Jeannette; think 
 what times we shall have when we meet. I 've no 
 end of surprises in store for you, and how we will 
 make the money fly ! ... / am forgetting this is a 
 sad time for you, though, and you may be crying 
 your dear eyes out for poor Aunt Caroline. But 
 for my sake cheer up, and be as happy as ever you 
 can. I hope I shall find letters from you waiting 
 at Obbia. ..." 
 
 Louis bade her cheer up; and if he were here, 
 he would understand in a moment how utterly 
 impossible was cheerfulness under the circum- 
 stances, for his doleful and isolated little sister. 
 
 With beating heart she rang the bell, and 
 desired William to say that the carriage would 
 be wanted first thing in the morning to take her 
 to Paddington. 
 
 "He will tell Hewitt, and Hewitt will tell 
 Mrs. Dunham, and she will tell Mrs. Pyke, and 
 so the ice will be broken," she thought, trium- 
 phantly. "That will make it easier for me to 
 just say casually to Mrs. Dunham, at bedtime, 
 that I have made up my mind rather suddenly 
 to go home and see Uncle Roberts for a couple of 
 nights or so. I am very glad I have settled it. 
 Now there can be no drawing back "; and the 
 lonely lady, outwardly composed, but inwardly 
 quaking, presently sat down to her solitary meal.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 THE MOUNTAIN FARM 
 
 COED-ITHEL stood in the middle of an orchard; 
 a plain stone-tiled farmhouse with no pretence to 
 an approach, save a track over the grass from 
 the yew-shadowed gate to the door. 
 
 A low, uneven wall, built without mortar, 
 of great boulders and slabs of stone, coated with 
 moss, and sprouting with hardy ferns and penny- 
 wort, enclosed the orchard; and though the old 
 garden of the Duke's imagination was non- 
 existent, there was a large plot of ground, fenced 
 
 in from the chickens, at the back of the homestead 
 
 > 
 
 which was devoted mainly to growing potatoes, 
 cabbages, and onions, but was also well stocked 
 with the roots of old-fashioned herbs and cot- 
 tager's flowers. 
 
 It had not occurred to Jeanne to telegraph 
 and warn her uncle of her intended visit; a tele- 
 gram, as she very well knew, would have startled 
 him much more than her sudden appearance; 
 besides entailing a payment of porterage which 
 would have annoyed him considerably. 
 
 136
 
 THE LONELY LADY 137 
 
 Since Dunham had refused to permit her to 
 make a brown paper parcel of necessaries to 
 carry under her arm (which would have been 
 much more convenient) and had, instead, insisted 
 upon encumbering her with her late aunt's 
 travelling bag Jeanne had been obliged to leave 
 her belongings at the station to be called for later 
 by John Evans, her uncle's man. 
 
 She carried in her hand only her shabby desk, 
 containing the family treasures, from which, 
 true to her brother's injunctions, she would not 
 be parted. 
 
 The daylight was beginning to fail as she 
 walked rapidly along the main road, and turned 
 into the narrow lane, which led upwards to the 
 open path over the hills to Coed-Ithel. 
 
 A joyous sense of freedom regained caused her 
 heart to lighten and her face to glow; as with 
 the ease of youth and strength, and long habit, 
 she climbed the steep and stony track over the 
 mountain, pausing now and then to cast a glance 
 of recognition at the familiar landscape. 
 
 Breathless, but beaming, she presently pushed 
 open the orchard gate, sped across the grass, 
 lifted the latch of the farmhouse door, and 
 stepped into the kitchen. 
 
 A pleasant sense of home-coming, never before 
 experienced, brought the tears to her glad brown 
 eyes. 
 
 She had not known that the familiar place of
 
 138 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 her childhood was dear to her, before she went 
 to London. Often and often had she and Louis 
 grumbled over its smallness, its homeliness, and 
 its distance from Tref-goch, once the centre of 
 life to both. 
 
 Now its very remoteness from the dwelling- 
 houses of other men seemed to make it more 
 truly a place of rest. 
 
 She closed the door and came softly round the 
 old solid oaken screen, built into the wall, that 
 sheltered her uncle's patchwork covered arm- 
 chair from draught. 
 
 One half of the well-scrubbed white deal table 
 was laid for tea. A big loaf, a black-handled 
 knife, a square lump of fresh yellow butter, 
 a red earthen pitcher of milk, and a pot of 
 jam. 
 
 The black teapot stood warming on the hob, 
 and the kettle was boiling. 
 
 Well-known sounds in the back kitchen told 
 her that Uncle Roberts had come in, and was 
 cleaning himself at the pump. 
 
 Not wishing to startle him too much, she rapped 
 on the wooden screen with her knuckles, and stood 
 there smiling and dimpling. 
 
 Uncle Roberts came forth immediately, clump- 
 ing heavily across the tiled floor of the back 
 kitchen in his heavy boots, wiping his hands with 
 a cloth and peering under his bushy brows to 
 see who it was.
 
 OP GROSVENOR SQUARE 139 
 
 " I 've come to pay you a visit, Uncle, " said 
 Jeanne. 
 
 Llewellyn Roberts was not a demonstrative 
 man ; he endured the kiss his niece bestowed upon 
 his hairy cheek with equanimity, and said, " Well, 
 to be sure!" in surprise. 
 
 It did not occur to him to express any pleasure 
 at her advent, but Jeanne knew him well enough 
 to be quite sure he was glad to see her. 
 
 "You got my letter, Uncle, didn't you, about 
 Louis going to Somaliland?" 
 
 "I got it right enough," said Uncle Roberts. 
 
 He went to the bottom of the deal staircase and 
 called loudly, 
 
 "Sally Morgan! Here's Jenny come home," 
 and then with a nod, retired to the back kitchen 
 to complete his ablutions. 
 
 Granny Morgan was less impassive than the 
 farmer. 
 
 She was a rosy, little old woman, with a white 
 cap tied under her chin, and a short, full woollen 
 skirt cut well above her blue stockings and neat 
 clogs. 
 
 Though, like the farmer, she loved Louis the 
 best, she was yet very fond of Jeanne. 
 
 "Well, to be sure, my deary, this is a surprise. 
 So here you be come home. Just in time for 
 your tea ' she kissed Jeanne heartily. " Have 
 you brought any news, deary?" 
 
 "Louis was just starting for Somaliland when
 
 i 4 o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 he last wrote, Granny, and he says it won't be 
 long before he comes home. " 
 
 " Oh, my, what a day 't will be the lads down 
 to Pen-y-waun be going to carry him shoulder 
 high the day he comes they talk of fireworks 
 and all sorts. And he '11 be grander than ever, 
 with all this money. " 
 
 "It won't change him, Granny.'.' 
 
 " No, it won't, my deary, for the lad 's not the 
 sort to change. Well, if I did n't always say he 
 was bom with a silver spoon in his mouth. It 's 
 to be hoped they won't be keeping him out there 
 much longer." 
 
 Then she raised her voice and cried to the back 
 kitchen, 
 
 "Roberts, your tea 's waiting." 
 
 She poured the boiling water into the teapot 
 and set it on the table. 
 
 "You'll be wanting something after your 
 journey, deary. Dontee stop for nobody, but 
 just set to." 
 
 But Jeanne knew better than to incur her 
 uncle's displeasure by beginning before he had 
 said grace. 
 
 Uncle Roberts stood in his place, and asked 
 a blessing with his eyes shut, and Granny Morgan 
 put the bread platter at his elbow. 
 
 Jeanne had not enjoyed a meal so much for 
 weeks. 
 
 How delicious to her the home-made crusty
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 141 
 
 bread, the yellow butter slightly salted! She 
 abjured the tea, and drank her accustomed 
 measure of new milk, from her own blue china 
 mug, inscribed in gilt letters, "A present from 
 Monmouth. " 
 
 Uncle Roberts was evidently cudgelling his 
 brains for the reason of his niece's sudden ap- 
 pearance; but- being chary of words, preferred 
 thinking to asking questions. 
 
 Presently he brought forth the result of his 
 cogitations. 
 
 " Be there anything wrong with this fine for- 
 tune his aunt left to Louis?" 
 
 "Oh no, Uncle. Mr. Valentine, the lawyer, 
 says it is as safe as the Bank of England. " 
 
 "Dontee get putting your trust in lawyers," 
 said Uncle Roberts, gloomily. 
 
 "They have been I mean the firm lawyers 
 to the Marneys of Orsett for three generations, " 
 said Jeanne. 
 
 "That sounds respectable, farmer," said 
 Granny Morgan, who was of an optimistic 
 disposition. 
 
 Uncle Llewellyn allowed it to be in Mr. Valen- 
 tine's favour. 
 
 " Who 's taking care of this fine house, now 
 you 've come away?" he asked, rather anxiously. 
 
 "The servants," said Jeanne. 
 
 " You've been and left Louis's house to servants. 
 Why 't is chock full of valuable things, baint it?"
 
 142 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 said Uncle Roberts. "They ought to be took 
 care of. " 
 
 "But there are fifteen servants to take care 
 of them, Uncle." 
 
 "Farmer! you baint reasonable," said Mrs. 
 Morgan. "Them upper servants aren't like the 
 girls we keep. Was n't it on the letter you sent, 
 my deary, that the housekeeper or such had 
 been with the old lady forty or fifty year?" 
 
 "They have all been with her for years and 
 years. Oh Uncle, if you could see how respect- 
 able and to be trusted they are," said Jeanne, 
 almost appalled by such doubts. "Besides," 
 with a perception that no words of hers could 
 convey the full measure of Pyke's and Dunham's 
 respectability to her uncle, " if it comes to that, 
 Uncle, the lawyer's clerks, or the Government, 
 or somebody have taken lists of everything in 
 the house, down to the very spoons. " 
 
 "That will be for probate," said Uncle Llewel- 
 lyn. "These 'ere death doos will come pretty 
 heavy on Louis, I'm thinking. " 
 
 " But you 've always held the rich should be 
 taxed, have n't you, Uncle? " said Jeanne, timidly. 
 
 "In the abstrack, yes" said Uncle Roberts 
 pulling his red beard. "Tax the rich, I says 
 in the abstrack." 
 
 Uncle Llewellyn did not like argument; which 
 being interpreted, meant that he liked to state 
 his own opinion, but did not wish to hear the
 
 OP GROSVENOR SQUARE 143 
 
 opinion of any one else ; so his womenkind were 
 respectfully silent, and he recovered his spirits. 
 
 " But I daresay there '11 be plenty left. " 
 
 "Mr. Valentine says Louis will be very rich." 
 
 " H'm" said Mr. Roberts, and it was plain that 
 he was not altogether delighted at the prospect. 
 
 "What fair beats my understanding is why 
 the old woman didn't leave her money to you," 
 he said, thumping the table. "The lad being 
 started and doing well for hisself, and having 
 me to look to besides, and you being with her. 
 It makes me feel fair evil to think of it. Did she 
 take anything amiss with you?" 
 
 " No, indeed, uncle, we were the best of friends. 
 Mr. Valentine said it was because she liked me 
 so much that she decided to alter her will, and 
 leave her money to Louis instead of to charities. " 
 
 " 'T was a rum way of showing her liking for 
 you. " 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Roberts, you know it comes to just 
 the same thing. Louis and me! I would rather 
 Louis had it." 
 
 "You was all for giving up everything to him, 
 deary, all your life. But you see if he does n't 
 make it up to you when he comes home. Wed- 
 nesday's children is all for loving and giving, and 
 you was both born of a Wednesday. " 
 
 Uncle Roberts grunted, and pushed back his 
 chair. 
 
 When tea was over, and as Jeanne assisted
 
 144 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 her to wash up the tea-things, Mrs. Morgan ex- 
 plained the cause of the farmer's depression. 
 
 " He 's been worritting hisself like ever since 
 the news came, and no wonder. There he was, 
 thinking that the lad would come after him here ; 
 and all his affairs settled so he would n't have 
 nothing to fret over on his death-bed when his 
 time do come as come it must. And quite pleased 
 to think your aunt should have you up to town 
 to make a lady of you and provide for you; and 
 now he 's all unsettled. I know his mind mis- 
 gives him but the boy will be took up with this 
 fine fortune and look down on the farm like ; and 
 yet he can't abear to be at the trouble and expense 
 of going over to Tref-goch and letting Lawyer 
 Williams alter his will. ' Sally Morgan, ' he says 
 to me, ' I thought that was over and done with. ' 
 He 've not been the same man since. Thinking 
 maybe 't is you as ought to have the farm now, 
 in justice." 
 
 "Oh, don't let him alter anything. But I'll 
 tell Louis to write to him, for he will never listen 
 to you or me, " said Jeanne. " But if the Rector 
 would advise him to put off making any changes 
 till Louis comes home, that would be the best. " 
 
 "Dear heart, the Rector and his wife have 
 been away this many weeks. Most ever since 
 you left." 
 
 "Away!" 
 
 " 'T is that Cissie at the bottom of it all. They
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 145 
 
 say her would n't answer her mother's letters, 
 so poor Mrs. Da vies at last her took to her bed 
 with grief and spite, to think her own daughter 
 should treat her so. And she couldn't keep it 
 to herself, for Molly Jones at the Post-office her 
 spread it abroad as Mrs. Da vies wrote five letters 
 and a post card running, and never a one come 
 back from Mrs. Watson for her." 
 
 "But why won't she write?" 
 
 "They say she's too stuck up; but perhaps 
 't is just that she 's took up with her long family, 
 and got sick of wasting so much money on stamps, 
 for they say she's a long ways off in South America 
 travelling with her old gentleman. Mrs. Da vies 
 was always terrible over-fond of Cissie, and now 
 the girl 's paying her out for it. 'T is always the 
 way. But she was that bad, poor thing, as the 
 doctor advised her should go to foreign parts. 
 Ah, well, I miss her. for she gave me many a box 
 of patent medicine one way and another, and 
 my inside being not what it was, needs a lot of 
 physic. " 
 
 But Jeanne grew impatient of the symptoms 
 Mrs. Morgan now proceeded to describe in detail, 
 and brought the conversation back to her uncle. 
 
 "Yes, he be terrible interested with all the lad 
 sends, though he baint fond of writing letters nor 
 yet of reading them, as a rule. But he boasts 
 away when he thinks I are n't listening, to John 
 Jones and Davy Griffiths, whenever they comes
 
 146 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 here. Men 's all alike, my deary; they be ashamed 
 of loving their own flesh and blood till they be 
 away from them, and then out it comes willy 
 nilly." 
 
 She nodded and winked at Jeanne when Uncle 
 Llewellyn grumbled at having to send John 
 Evans all the way to the station for Jeanne's bag. 
 
 " Nice fine lady ways you 've got into, Jenny, " 
 he said, shaking his head at her. 
 
 "There 's Louis's photographs in the bag; they 
 were too big to fit into my desk. He was photoed 
 before leaving South Africa," she breathed. 
 
 "What was that for?" 
 
 " For me and for you, Uncle. He 's changed 
 ever so; as one would expect in so many years," 
 she said, with her pretty timid smile. 
 
 Uncle Roberts made no answer, but she heard 
 him presently shouting to John Evans to make 
 haste, and not be all night fetching the things 
 up from the station. 
 
 Jeanne finding herself alone in her little attic 
 beneath the roof, hung the miniatures again on 
 the brass hooks Louis had placed for them long 
 ago, over the tiny fireplace. She was for the 
 first time struck by the incongruity of their 
 surroundings. 
 
 What had her silk-clad, jewel-decked, powdered, 
 beribboned ancestors to do with this white washed 
 room and flock paper?
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 147 
 
 How very, very small and poor it all looked! 
 How hard the narrow bed, and rough the cotton 
 sheets ; how small and lumpy the pillow, stuffed 
 with poultry feathers by old Granny Morgan's 
 wrinkled hard-working hands. 
 
 Jeanne blushed with shame at herself for 
 noticing such things, and for the reflection that 
 crossed her mind that dear old Granny was much 
 less refined in speech and appearance than Dun- 
 ham, and would probably courtesy to Mrs. Pyke 
 in her black silk gown and Chantilly lace cap. 
 Was it possible that the old woman's endless 
 stories of her ailments had become fatiguing 
 instead of interesting to hear; or that she could 
 draw comparisons between the manner of serving 
 meals in Grosvenor Square and in the farmhouse 
 kitchen, to the disadvantage of the latter? 
 
 The pricking of her conscience reminded her 
 of many a reproof she had bestowed upon Louis 
 in the past, for grumbling when he returned from 
 school or college, at some of the primitive domes- 
 tic arrangements at the hillside farm; and it 
 reminded her also of the sweet-tempered meek- 
 ness with which he had received her ignorant 
 assurances of their perfection. 
 
 How little she had known of the world then! 
 She thought she knew a great deal now, and 
 kneeling very humbly by the narrow bedstead, 
 prayed God not to allow her experiences of 
 grandeur or luxury to make her proud, or dis-
 
 148 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 dainful of the lowly roof which had sheltered her 
 childhood. 
 
 To that prayer she added her passionate en- 
 treaties for her brother's safe and speedy return. 
 
 How often she had knelt beside that bed, sob- 
 bing and praying, through the dark days of the 
 South African War. And here was Louis going 
 blithely forth to fresh danger. She thought of 
 his words : 
 
 " God has been very good to me. Why should 
 this luck come to me, when every fellow out here 
 would give anything to go?" 
 
 "Why, indeed?" thought Jeanne, ruefully. 
 
 As she blew out the candle and laid her brown 
 head on the small, hard pillow, she shivered a little, 
 for, though the weather was surprisingly mild 
 for the end of January, yet the fireless attic was 
 a great deal colder in this fresh atmosphere, than 
 her luxurious bedroom in Grosvenor Square. 
 
 The forlorn sense of being again alien to 
 her surroundings returned upon her in the 
 darkness. 
 
 She was fond of Uncle Roberts, but she had 
 nothing in common with him, and had talked 
 more to Aunt Caroline in a few hours than to her 
 uncle in her whole life time. Why, indeed, had 
 she not talked less and listened more ? she thought 
 remorsefully. 
 
 Cousin Denis was even more companionable 
 than Aunt Caroline, partly because he inspired
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 149 
 
 her, in spite of his dukedom, with less awe, partly 
 because he was of her own generation. 
 
 Was it because the descendant of the de Coursets 
 had more natural affinity with these fine people 
 than with the sturdy, honest farmer to whom 
 she had been all her life indebted for her daily 
 bread? Jeanne hoped earnestly that her feelings 
 held nothing of ingratitude. 
 
 With all her might she respected Uncle Roberts ; 
 respected him in spite of his oddity, his silence, 
 his fiery bristling unkempt hair and beard, his 
 lengthy expositions of the Scriptures, his con- 
 tempt for everything he did not understand; and 
 all these things had been sore trials in their time 
 to Louis and herself. 
 
 She respected his independence, his piety, his 
 industry, his solid, stolid kindness of heart, his 
 stern uprightness. 
 
 Yet now that she had seen him again she won- 
 dered how she had thought it possible to ask his 
 advice. 
 
 When had she or Louis asked counsel of Uncle 
 Roberts? 
 
 It had never occurred to either of them, in 
 their confident youth, and with their consciousness 
 of a superior education, but that they must know 
 better than he. 
 
 " Still I will ask him ; for there is nobody else, " 
 Jeanne finally decided, after an hour's wakeful- 
 ness, and anxious pondering over the situation;
 
 i 5 o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 but her mind was filled with misgivings as she 
 fell asleep. 
 
 In the early morning, waking to sunshine, 
 she forgot all her troubles and went out rejoicing. 
 
 She climbed the rocky grass slopes above Coed- 
 Ithel, among the dead bracken, to the source of 
 the mountain torrent that supplied the farm 
 with water, finding its way thence to the great 
 river which ran through the valley below; there 
 had been heavy rains, and the stream was doubled 
 in volume, rushing loudly over the moss-grown 
 rocks which impeded its course, and foaming and 
 seething round every obstacle. 
 
 Though the sky was of a brillant blue, the sun, 
 newly risen over the opposite mountain, was 
 hidden by a wandering army of purple clouds; 
 which, passing over the valley, cast its deep 
 shadow on the brown hillsides. 
 
 The song of the birds, deceived by the un- 
 seasonable mildness into the belief that spring 
 was closer at hand, resounded far and near. 
 
 Just below her glistened the slab-tiled roof of 
 the farm, and its outhouses, also built and roofed 
 with grey stone, and held together by hundred- 
 year-old stems of giant ivy, which like a thousand 
 hairy snakes coiled about them, holding aloft a 
 heavy weight of luxuriant polished foliage above 
 the reach of the farmer's shears. 
 
 She looked down upon the farm, which appeared
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 151 
 
 very small and solitary, standing in the bare 
 orchard; and a long way farther down yet, 
 into the valley below. 
 
 The distant saw-mill's steady hum came clearly 
 to her ear through the still air; not a breath 
 stirred; and from the little white homes dotted 
 over the opposite mountain side, the thin blue 
 smoke shot steadily upwards against the leafless 
 trees. 
 
 What sound more cheerful than the rushing 
 of the mountain stream, through this country of 
 ivy-grown, moss-covered stone walls and crum- 
 bling ruins; of wild bracken, royal fern, and red 
 soil; of emerald mistletoe crowning gnarled and 
 lichened apple trees; of solemn, giant firs, and 
 sombre, twisted, aged yews? 
 
 As Jeanne climbed the mountain path, and 
 turned to look yet again upon the wide stretch 
 of cultivated country below, the sun flooded the 
 valley, and the purple shadows of the cloud 
 fleeted across the hills and vanished ; leaving brown 
 wood, green field, and wet glistening roads alike 
 gilded with the brightness of the morning 
 glory. 
 
 It caught the brown river, bubbling over the 
 weirs, and turned the sparkling ripples to flashing 
 diamonds; it caught the red-brown plough-land, 
 the red-brown brushwood, and the red-brown 
 fern dying on the hills, and their ruddiness 
 grew transparent as fire. It caught the smoke
 
 iS2 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 from the mop-stick factory in the village, and 
 turned it into wreaths of floating silver. 
 
 Jeanne thought of the London fog, and stretched 
 her arms above her head, and laughed aloud for 
 gladness as she ran down the hill again, and 
 entered the bare orchard where sheets and sheets 
 of snowdrops, with their white and green bells, 
 were drooping in the sunshine, the only flower 
 visible save a solitary aconite or so in the garden, 
 and the burden of yellow, scentless, winter jas- 
 mine nailed against the wall. 
 
 "Have ye gone clean daft, Jenny?" said Uncle 
 Roberts, regarding her with amaze, as she dropped 
 on her knees in the wet grass to gather the snow- 
 drops. "One would think ye'd never seen the 
 place before." 
 
 " I have never missed it before, " Jeanne said. 
 " Oh, Uncle Roberts, I want to ask your advice 
 if you could spare a moment to talk to me." 
 She was surprised at her own boldness. 
 
 " D 'y e think I 've time to stand talking this 
 hour of the day?" said Uncle Roberts; and he 
 refused to take his eyes off John Evans, who 
 was unloading the split trunks of dead apple 
 trees from the cart, and carrying them in to the 
 woodshed. 
 
 After supper that evening the farmer proved 
 more amenable.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 153 
 
 Jeanne fetched him his pipe, and filled it for 
 him, and gave Granny Morgan a look which was 
 a preconcerted signal between them, and the old 
 woman slipped up-stairs, nothing loth, to her 
 well-earned slumbers. 
 
 Jeanne brought her wooden stool and sat at 
 her uncle's knee, as though she were a little girl 
 again; but now she felt much older and wiser 
 and more experienced than he, even though she 
 was about to ask his advice. 
 
 He glanced down upon her little bent brown 
 head, and the glance was not untender; in fact 
 it was as near a caress as a glance could be; but 
 Jeanne did not see it, and it did not trouble Uncle 
 Roberts in the least that she should not know 
 how kindly he thought of her ; probably he thought 
 it would have been bad for her to learn the extent 
 of his fatherly affection for her and her brother. 
 
 Then he smoked in peace, and had Jeanne not 
 made haste to break the silence, he would have 
 fallen asleep, as he usually did after supper, 
 taking a nap in his arm-chair as a kind of pre- 
 liminary canter before going to bed. 
 
 "Uncle Roberts, you used to say you meant 
 to go to London some day to see all the sights. " 
 
 "Aye," said Uncle Roberts, very placidly, 
 "so I do." 
 
 "Couldn't you come now?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Couldn't you come now, at once? It seems
 
 154 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 to me it would be a very good time to come. 
 Since Aunt Caroline's death," hinted Jeanne 
 delicately, "life seems to me to have grown so 
 very uncertain." 
 
 Uncle Roberts, with some uneasiness, assured 
 her that he felt as well as ever he did in his life, 
 and she hastened to apologise. 
 
 " I was not exactly thinking of that. But there 
 I am, Uncle Roberts all alone in that big house. " 
 
 " I thought you said there was fifteen servants. " 
 
 "I mean not counting the servants." 
 
 "Jenny," said Uncle Roberts, "never let me 
 hear you say you don't count servants. Ain't 
 they flesh and blood the same as you be? This 
 is what comes of riches. Flesh and blood is 
 nothing. Fellow-creatures is nothing." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle, indeed you misunderstand. They 
 are very far from being nothing. It is I who 
 am nobody in the house, and if anything, fright- 
 ened to death of them all. " 
 
 " Do you mean they put upon you? " said Uncle 
 Roberts, preparing to get angry with his fellow- 
 creatures. 
 
 "No, no; they mean very kindly! But you 
 see, even if I wanted to be friendly with them, 
 they would keep themselves to themselves. They 
 pride themselves on knowing their places, and 
 try as you will so far would they go, and no 
 farther." 
 
 " Quite right too, " said Uncle Roberts, approv-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 155 
 
 ingly. Platitudes always appealed to him, espe- 
 cially if they sounded at all Scriptural, whatever 
 their sense. 
 
 "If you came up," said Jeanne, "you would 
 sit in the parlour with me," she was obliged to 
 use a word within the scope of Uncle Roberts's 
 imagination. The drawing-room might have 
 aroused his contempt; and the morning-room 
 would have suggested a separate apartment 
 for each portion of the day, and excited his 
 ridicule. 
 
 "What should I do there?" said Uncle Roberts. 
 
 "Why " said Jeanne, and stopped short. 
 After all, what would Uncle Roberts do in the 
 morning-room where she found next to nothing 
 to do herself, in spite of her education, her love 
 of dreaming, and her letters to and from Louis? 
 
 Uncle Roberts in his old coat, and carpet 
 slippers, looked, very comfortable and good-na- 
 tured, as he leant back in the patchwork covered 
 arm-chair, and smoked his cherry-wood pipe. 
 
 "There is a large comfortable room, with big 
 leather arm-chairs, behind the dining-room," 
 she said, unconsciously thinking aloud; "the 
 walls are lined with book-cases. You could 
 smoke there for it is called the smoking-room. 
 And we need n't be indoors all the time, for we 
 could go and see the sights. " 
 
 "I think I see myself," said Uncle Roberts, 
 taking his pipe out of his mouth after a long pause,
 
 156 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "going to see the sights in February, and the 
 lambing coming on. " 
 
 " I forgot the lambing, " said Jeanne. 
 
 A dismayed silence ensued. 
 
 "When I talked of going to London but I 
 done for sixty year without going a nigh the 
 place " said Uncle Roberts unusually loqua- 
 cious, "I was thinking of taking you both, boy 
 and girl, along with me. I guess I '11 wait now 
 till Louis comes home." 
 
 " But what am I to do? " said Jeanne. 
 
 "Your dooty, " said Uncle Roberts. 
 
 He smoked for quite five minutes without a 
 word, to let this recommendation sink into 
 Jeanne's understanding. 
 
 "You wrote me, awhile back, when your aunt 
 was took, poor soul, (ready or unready, 1 be 'd 
 sorry to say which, nor it ain't for any one to say), 
 you wrote me as you 'd settled with her man of 
 business that 't was your dooty to stop and take 
 care of Louis's house and furniture for him. " 
 
 "Yes, I did," said Jeanne. 
 
 " And I sent you a post card not being so 
 ready with my pen, nor so free with my stamps, 
 as some," said Uncle Roberts, pointedly, "and 
 I said, ' Dear Jenny, r so be it,' or words to that 
 effect." 
 
 "Yes," said Jeanne, and she stifled an hysteri- 
 cal laugh. 
 
 "If 't was your dooty to stop then, 't is your
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 157 
 
 dooty to stop now, " said Uncle Roberts, decidedly. 
 
 " But if people call on me " 
 
 "Well, what harm can they do?" 
 
 "A a cousin of Miss Marney's has called upon 
 me," faltered Jeanne, "and Dunham, my aunt's 
 maid, thinks he ought not to come because I 'rn 
 alone. He has only been once. But he he might 
 come again." 
 
 "Ain't he respectable?" 
 
 Jeanne hesitated imperceptibly. 
 
 She felt that if she mentioned that Miss Mar- 
 ney's cousin was a duke, her Uncle Roberts might 
 once and for all, declare that his respectability 
 was very improbable. With burning cheeks and 
 downcast eyes, she suppressed the dukedom. 
 
 "He is most respectable," she said firmly. "A 
 very quiet young man, and and lame." 
 
 " Does she think I have n't brought you up to 
 know how to take care of yourself " he said, 
 with rising wrath, "the best-educated, best- 
 behaved girl in the parish, that you can't be 
 trusted to have a young man call on you, with 
 fifteen respectable old family servants in the 
 house, at your back?" 
 
 " I daresay it 's just because she 's an old 
 maid and has old-fashioned ideas," said Jeanne, 
 soothingly. 
 
 "So have I old-fashioned ideas. But I never 
 heard that a respectable young man could n't 
 call on a respectable young woman, nor I don't
 
 158 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 hold with such notions at all. This is what 
 comes of living in rich men's houses; imputing 
 evil where none exists. " 
 
 " If you did n't think it wrong, Uncle Roberts, 
 and as he 's a cousin of Aunt Caroline's, I would 
 like to see him now and then, that is, if he ever 
 does come again for I find London very lonely. 
 It is a very dull place." 
 
 Uncle Roberts considered. A quiet, lame 
 young man did not sound very dangerous, and 
 Jeanne was a steady, sensible girl. Also he was 
 indignant that Miss Marney's servants should 
 venture to criticise his niece. 
 
 " I can't see no harm in your seeing him now 
 and again, Dunham or no Dunham," he said, 
 obstinately.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 CECILIA 
 
 So Jeanne found herself once more alone in 
 the Grosvenor Square house; but this time forti- 
 fied by her Uncle Roberts's opinion that here, 
 and here only, lay her duty towards her brother. 
 
 As she entered the hall, she was surprised to 
 find that, again, she experienced not a little of 
 the pleasant sensation of home-coming. 
 
 She opened the door of the morning-room, and 
 looked quite affectionately at the familiar fur- 
 niture. After all, how pretty and luxurious it 
 now appeared to her. 
 
 Even though she might consider it far more 
 delightful and interesting to pluck a handful 
 of snowdrops, fresh from the wet earth, for herself , 
 yet she could not refuse to acknowledge the love- 
 liness of the forced spring flowers which filled 
 every corner of the morning-room. 
 
 Jeanne was too inexperienced to be aware of 
 the cost of those flowers. The florist's bill was 
 presented quarterly, and as it had been agreed 
 that the accustomed ways of the household should 
 
 159
 
 160 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 be continued without change until Louis's return, 
 no check had been placed upon Hewitt's taste 
 for decoration. 
 
 The great, pale, waxen bells of hyacinths in 
 gilt backets filled the room with an almost 
 overpowering sweetness. Daffodils and yellow 
 tulips shone like sunshine in dark corners; a 
 sheaf of lilies of the valley was set beside the Book 
 of Beauty and the silver bowl was filled with, 
 large, double, Parma violets. 
 
 "It is like spring come indoors!" cried Jeanne, 
 with a long breath of delight. 
 
 "I am very glad you are pleased with it, 
 ma'am," said Hewitt, with almost a gardener's 
 pride for had he not set the flowers in their 
 places with his own hands? "A card has been 
 left for you, ma'am, during your absence," 
 and he presented, decorously, a small, solitary 
 pasteboard in the midst of a large salver. 
 
 On the card was inscribed the name of the 
 Duchess of Monaghan, and above the name was 
 scribbled in a very illegible handwriting, 
 
 Wednesday, 4.30. Music. Very small. 
 
 Jeanne was obliged to apply to Dunham for 
 the meaning of this mysterious communication. 
 
 "It means her Grace will be at home on 
 Wednesday, ma'am, to be sure," said Dunham 
 her sallow wrinkled face grew quite pink with
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 161 
 
 excitement "and she hopes you will come at 
 4.30, and there '11 be music going on." 
 
 "Do you mean she will be giving a party?" 
 
 "If it was a party, ma'am, it 's not very likely 
 she would ask you, with your poor aunt not two 
 months in her grave." 
 
 "I would not like to show any disrespect to 
 Aunt Caroline. I will write and explain," 
 said Jeanne. 
 
 Dunham instantly relented and took the op- 
 posite view. 
 
 " It is n't likely the Duchess would wish to shew 
 disrespect either, Miss Jane, you may be very 
 sure of that. You see how careful she has been 
 to write, "Very small." That means there's 
 but a few invited; not half London crowding to 
 her house as she 'd have if she was giving a real 
 party. Being a relation and nothing formal 
 about the invitation, I don't say you might n't 
 go. I 'm sure my poor lady would have liked 
 to think they remembered the connection however 
 late in the day." 
 
 "I wish I had been at home when she called; 
 I could have asked her all about it, " said Jeanne, 
 regretfully. 
 
 "Bless me, ma'am, you don't think she asked 
 for you!" said Dunham, reproachfully. "The 
 footman just handed in the card. But she was 
 in the carriage, for I saw her myself from the 
 window. 'T is a great compliment her coming
 
 1 62 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 at all. You being but young, as one might say, 
 and her such a great lady, and the penny post 
 so handy for invitations. Depend upon it, she 
 repents not having shown more civility to my 
 poor lady while she could, and is trying to make 
 up for it. But to ask to come in on a first visit ! I 
 don't know, to be sure, what may be the fashion 
 nowadays; but in my poor lady's time she would 
 never have dreamt of anything but leaving her 
 card at the door for that, " said Dunham, tossing 
 her head. 
 
 "Wednesday, and this is only Friday. What 
 a long time to wait," said Jeanne, excitedly. 
 " However, it will be something to look forward 
 to. And, Mrs. Dunham, I I asked Uncle Roberts 
 if it would matter very much if if my cousin 
 I mean the Duke called upon me now and then, 
 whilst I was here alone and he said he could 
 not see any harm at all in it. " 
 
 " No more can I, ma'am, now his mamma have 
 been," said Dunham, with great dignity. "It 
 just makes all the difference in the world, as I 
 told you, Miss Jane, if you remember. I 'm sure 
 his Grace can't call at this house too of ten to 
 please me. I 'm only sorry he didn't think to 
 come a little sooner, when your poor auntie was 
 alive to hear of it. " 
 
 Jeanne could not help feeling, that Dunham, 
 as usual, had got the better of her, in her small 
 attempt at self-assertion.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 163 
 
 On the morrow the current of her thoughts was 
 changed by the appearance of a paragraph in the 
 Morning Post to the effect that Mr. and Mrs. Hogg- 
 Watson had returned from their travels in South 
 America, to their house in Queen's Gate. 
 
 "This time there cannot be any mistake in 
 my going to call," Jeanne said to herself, with 
 not a little pleasurable excitement. "If I know 
 anybody in this world it is Cecilia! And there 
 could not be two couples with such a name as 
 Hogg- Watson travelling in South America at 
 the same time. And after all, though Cecilia 
 and I had our quarrels, we had a good deal of 
 fun together too. She has probably improved 
 in all sorts of ways since she married; she can't 
 be spoilt like she used to be. And I long to see 
 her children. I can ask them all to come and 
 see me. How delightful and cheerful it will 
 be." 
 
 She drove across the Park to Queen's Gate 
 that very afternoon, without waiting for Sunday 
 to intervene that Cecilia might get settled. 
 
 Mrs. Hogg- Watson was at home; and a very 
 smart parlour-maid conducted Jeanne up-stairs, 
 and into a large empty drawing-room. 
 
 Jeanne looked round her, and decided that the 
 apartment bore the strong impress of her friend's 
 personality. 
 
 Cecilia was fair, and her favourite colour in 
 her girlhood had been blue. Consequently the
 
 164 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 room was almost dazzling in its variety of azure 
 tints. 
 
 The walls and carpet and curtains were blue; 
 the furniture was covered with blue brocade; 
 and the water colour drawings which were hung 
 upon the walls appeared to have been selected 
 solely for the hue of the sea and sky, which pre- 
 dominated therein. 
 
 All the cushions wore white muslin covers tied 
 up with blue sash ribbons, and the writing table 
 appointments were of blue morocco. 
 
 "I suppose Cecilia will wear a blue dress. I 
 wonder why she is so long," thought Jeanne, 
 after a few minutes' patient waiting. "I am 
 sure she will never guess who it is; for though I 
 said my name three times, I saw the maid had 
 not the least idea what it was. " 
 
 When Cecilia at length came into the room, 
 however, rather breathless and apologetic, with 
 the air of one who has just completed a hasty 
 toilette, she was not wearing blue, but a fawn- 
 coloured gown of a very elegant Parisian make, 
 closely fitting her tall, full figure, which had 
 amplified since her girlhood. 
 
 But her charms, though somewhat full-blown, 
 were still considerable; and in spite of a double 
 chin, she possessed every claim to be considered 
 a handsome woman that could be set forth by a 
 white skin, healthy colouring, abundant, fair 
 hair, and fine proportions.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 165 
 
 Perhaps it was Jeanne's fancy, that on per- 
 ceiving who it was, Cecilia drew back momen- 
 tarily, and dropped some of the empressement 
 with which she had been prepared to greet her 
 visitor. 
 
 "Good gracious, I had no idea it was you, 
 Jenny, " she said. " Fancy your being in London. 
 What are you doing here, pray?" 
 
 She kissed her erstwhile playmate in rather a 
 perfunctory and affected manner; and Jeanne's 
 easily disturbed colour rose. 
 
 When, in the candid days of childhood, Jeanne 
 and Cecilia had disagreed which was not seldom, 
 and would have been oftener but for the yielding 
 disposition of the younger they had called each 
 other Jenny and Cissie. At other times they 
 had been always Jeanne and Cecilia; thus, by 
 mutual consent, solacing each other's wounded 
 dignity, by ignoring the detested nicknames 
 bestowed by homely and undiscerning parents 
 and guardians. 
 
 Jeanne, though meek, was yet but mortal 
 woman, and she returned Cecilia's greeting with 
 spirit. 
 
 "I am in London because I live in London; 
 and I came to visit you, Cissie, because I saw 
 you had just arrived." 
 
 Cecilia executed a well-acted little start of 
 surprise at the sound of her abbreviated Christian 
 name; but Jeanne's determined bearing did not
 
 1 66 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 relax in the slightest degree, though inwardly 
 she was conscious of a disgraceful inclination 
 to shed tears. 
 
 "We have been absent from home a long time; 
 travelling in South America, " said Cecilia, with 
 elaborate politeness. 
 
 "So I saw in the papers," said Jeanne, with 
 equally defiant formality. 
 
 There came a feeble rattle at the door handle. 
 
 Jeanne looked at Cecilia with a sudden interest 
 she could not help, and Cecilia thawed a very 
 little. 
 
 "Open the door," said a child's voice without. 
 
 " It is Joey. How very naughty ! The children 
 are never allowed in the drawing-room without 
 being sent for," said Mrs. Hogg- Wat son, affect- 
 edly. But she rustled across the blue carpet 
 to open the door. 
 
 Jeanne rose too, in her excitement. Fancy 
 Cecilia with children of her own! She almost 
 forgot the frigidity of her old friend's reception 
 in her desire to behold Joey. 
 
 " Oh, let me see him, " she cried. 
 
 "I dress him rather quaintly. He is number 
 four. I have seven altogether, is n't it awful in 
 nine years?" said Cecilia languidly. "I lost 
 one pneumonia. You see he is dressed as 
 Bubbles, after Millais's picture." 
 
 The back view of Bubbles was distinctly 
 captivating; there was the little green suit and
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 167 
 
 frill, and Joey's large mop of flaxen curls crowned 
 his shrimp-like body. But when he removed 
 his head from his mother's skirt to look at the 
 visitor, alas! the face was the face of Mr. Hogg- 
 Watson, and anything less like the face of Bubbles 
 could hardly be conceived. 
 
 " He has beautiful hair, " said Jeanne. 
 
 "Hush, he will hear, and I don't want him to 
 be made vain," said Cecilia, without looking at 
 her. 
 
 "Where have you been walking, Joey?" 
 
 " In Tensington Gardens, " said Joey. 
 
 "Did Nana leave that note for Mammy?" 
 
 "Yes, Nana did leave it." 
 
 "What are you trying to get away for?" 
 
 " I want to tee the tarriage, " said Joey, strug- 
 gling from his parent's embraces, and escaping 
 to the window, whither Cecilia pursued him. 
 
 During this conversation Mrs. Hogg-Watson 
 devoted both her eyes and her attention exclu- 
 sively to her son, whilst her visitor sat apart, 
 embarrassed and neglected, on the sofa ; to which 
 she had returned on rinding her overtures to 
 Joey repulsed. Whence this newly acquired 
 absence of mind, and affectation of languor on 
 the part of Cecilia, who had always been rather 
 brisk and decided, even sharp, in speech and 
 manner? 
 
 Was it the result of marriage, or merely assumed 
 to overawe her humble friend? Cecilia had
 
 1 68 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 never been very sympathetic, Jeanne remembered, 
 but at least she had been real, and even full of 
 vitality. 
 
 Her disappointment was keen, but her heart 
 was too tender to give up all her hopes of friend- 
 ship in a moment, and she took the unwise course 
 of reminding Cecilia of that humble past, which 
 Mrs. Hogg- Watson greatly preferred to ignore. 
 
 " I have just been down to Pen-y-waun, Cecilia, " 
 she said, wistfully. "But the Rectory was shut 
 up, as of course you know. Mr. Jones of Tref-goch 
 takes the duties. It 's ages since you 've been 
 there, is n't it? The old garden looks exactly the 
 same, and the swing is still up where we used to 
 play. And when I saw your name in the paper 
 I was so glad, for it seemed to make London less 
 empty all of a sudden. " 
 
 "London empty!" said Cecilia, with a shrill 
 laugh, " I have scarcely a moment to myself, even 
 at this time of the year. " 
 
 "I suppose you have a great many friends," 
 said Jeanne, with a sigh. 
 
 "Heaps of a kind acquaintances and so 
 forth," said Cecilia vaguely. "But they come 
 and go " she added in a hurry, as though she 
 were afraid that her old friend was about to ask 
 her for introductions to this wide evanescent 
 circle. 
 
 She affected once more to be absorbed in her 
 son.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 169 
 
 "Come away, Joey, and don't flatten 'oo little 
 nose against the window-pane any more. Won't 
 'oo turn to 'oo mammy like a dood boy?" 
 
 Jeanne's rising tears were dried by the scorn 
 which all honest natures, however gentle, feel 
 for affectation. 
 
 She began to button her little black cloth 
 jacket, which she had opened on account of 
 the heat of the unscreened fire, preparatory 
 to rising. 
 
 "If she can't be natural, I won't stop and 
 make ridiculous conversation with her," she 
 thought, and her face burnt with indignation. 
 
 "Dere's de tarriage, " said Joey, ignoring his 
 parent's blandishments. 
 
 "What carriage?" 
 
 "Mine," said Jeanne, in a trembling voice, and 
 she rose from the sofa. 
 
 "Yours! What do you mean?" said Cecilia 
 in her natural tones of alert curiosity. "Who 
 drove you here?" 
 
 "My coachman," said Jeanne, with a dignity 
 belied by her beating heart. 
 
 Jenny to be going about in a large double 
 brougham, drawn by a pair of fat grey horses, 
 and driven by her own coachman! 
 
 Cecilia was astounded. 
 
 "Are you married?" she cried, with a gasp. 
 It appeared to her the only possible solution. 
 
 " No, I am not married, and the carriage belongs
 
 170 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 to Louis, " said Jeanne, repenting of her unwonted 
 assumption of a magnificence not truly her 
 own. 
 
 "Louis!" 
 
 If Cecilia wished to hear more, she must swallow 
 all pretence to indifference, and ask questions. 
 This was Jeanne's revenge for the coolness of her 
 reception. 
 
 Mrs. Hogg-Watson's curiosity easily overcame 
 her exclusiveness. 
 
 " Run away to the nursery directly, Joey. 
 You are crumpling the curtains, you naughty child. 
 Go at once," she said, in a voice which Bubbles 
 apparently recognised as one to be feared and 
 obeyed, for he trotted obediently out of the room, 
 leaving the door open, which his mother shut 
 behind him. 
 
 "You are not going yet, Jeanne? Oh, I see, 
 the fire is scorching you; let me put this screen. 
 Sit down again for heaven's sake, and tell me about 
 Louis. Is he in London?" 
 
 " No, he is in Somaliland, or on the way, " said 
 Jeanne, "and I am taking care of his house, 
 which was left to him last December by my great- 
 aunt, Miss Marney of Orsett. " 
 
 "I 'm sure I never heard of her," said Cecilia, 
 staring. 
 
 "No, we never thought about her. Uncle 
 Roberts knew she was -alive, but he did not even 
 know where she lived, till she sent for me; and
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 171 
 
 then she died; and so here I am, all alone, at 99 
 Grosvenor Square. " 
 
 "Grosvenor Square!" cried Cecilia, gasping 
 once more. 
 
 " It 's not one of the largest houses, " said 
 Jeanne, apologetically. " Mrs. Dunham says they 
 differ very much. But it seems like a palace to 
 me, of course. " 
 
 "Grosvenor Square ! Do you mean round a cor- 
 ner, in a side street?" said Cecilia, suspiciously. 
 
 "No, I do not. It is in Grosvenor Square." 
 
 "But then your aunt must have been very 
 rich." 
 
 " Yes, she was very rich, and she has left every- 
 thing she had in the world to Louis. " 
 
 "And nothing to you." 
 
 " It is the same thing, " said Jeanne. 
 
 "My dear! It's nothing of the kind. If 
 you were married you 'd find that out quickly 
 enough ! Now how like Mamma who wrote only 
 a few weeks ago, on a post card, and said you 
 had gone to London not even to mention it 
 was Grosvenor Square!" said Cecilia indignantly. 
 "Of course I thought you had just gone up for 
 a treat. She merely put a P. S. 'J enn Y gi n g to 
 London.' I suppose you know Mamma and I 
 have a coolness ? We quarrelled outright six 
 months ago, and I decided not to answer her 
 letters at all till she had calmed down. So she 
 seldom writes now. "
 
 172 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne's discretion was outweighed by her 
 pity for Mrs. Davies. 
 
 " Oh, Cissie, " she said, " you have almost broken 
 her heart. " 
 
 Cecilia could bear home-truths without winc- 
 ing, from people who lived in Grosvenor Square. 
 
 " It 's all very well, Jeanne, " she said, in depre- 
 cating tones, " but you 've no idea what it is to 
 be married, and your people expecting you to go 
 on just the same as though you were a little girl 
 at home, and write to them everything that 
 happens, about twice a week. Actually on my 
 honeymoon Mamma wrote to me every day, and 
 expected me to answer her letters! Not but 
 what I had more time then than I have ever had 
 since, for Joseph went roaming round moping old 
 picture-galleries from morning till night, and 
 nearly drove me mad till I hit on the excellent 
 plan of saying it gave me neuralgia, and let him 
 go by himself. Why can't Mamma console 
 herself with Tom or Jim? they would be only 
 too glad; but no, she must run after me because 
 I am the only girl, though she has two sons. 
 I suppose she has cried over my heartlessness to 
 you many a time, and said I put nothing in my 
 letters when I did write?" 
 
 "Oh, Cecilia, would she be likely to give you 
 away like that to me!" 
 
 "Well I didn't put much," admitted Cecilia. 
 " How could I ? Living in another world as I
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 173 
 
 do, and Mamma not knowing any of my friends? 
 What was there to say?" 
 
 "There were the children." 
 
 " Oh; the children. The way people go on about 
 them. I 'm sure I 'm a good mother if ever there 
 was one. I try to make pictures of them. What 
 clothes and hair will do is done. But it 's a little 
 hard on me that they are all Hogg-Watsons. 
 You remember what a pretty child I used to be, " 
 said Cecilia, modestly. "But really otherwise 
 I have little to do with them. Joseph is a great 
 authority on education and health; and Mamma's 
 old-fashioned ways would not suit him at all. 
 I should be obliged to keep them apart if only 
 for that. Imagine, he chooses their nurses 
 and governesses, all German and even their 
 toys and pictures, and diet lists. Luckily such 
 things don't interest me, or I should have rebelled 
 long ago. But think of Mamma interfering! 
 You remember the ridiculous way she used to dose 
 us with her patent medicines; and I am sure we 
 learnt nothing at all with the prim old governess 
 she thought so much of." 
 
 "We did not learn much," Jeanne was obliged 
 to admit. 
 
 "I feel the defects of my early education 
 terribly, I can assure you, now that I am married 
 to a celebrity," said Cecilia. 
 
 " Is he a celebrity? " 
 
 "My dear! Crowned heads visit him!" said
 
 174 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Cecilia, reproachfully. " He is known all over 
 Europe and America; and his scientific books are 
 standard works. But I suppose they think 
 nothing of that in Pen-y-waun and Coed-Ithel. 
 Though to be sure, I am obliged to be very careful 
 what I let out to Mamma about who comes here, 
 or she would expect to be asked to meet them 
 on the spot, a thing I scarcely expect myself. 
 I assure you people are most jealous and 
 disagreeable. They think nothing of asking 
 Joseph to their houses and ignoring my existence 
 altogether." 
 
 " And does he go? " said Jeanne. 
 
 "Well, sometimes I am bound to say that he 
 does," said Cecilia candidly. "Though it makes 
 very little difference to me," she added patheti- 
 cally, " for when he stays at home he is so absorbed 
 in his work that I scarcely see him. " 
 
 "What is his work?" 
 
 "Don't ask me," said Cecilia, shuddering. 
 "He calls himself a bacteriologist, and dreadful 
 things of that kind, which I don't even pretend 
 to be able to pronounce. Chiefly dissecting germs 
 and microbes, so far as I know. He never speaks 
 of anything connected with his work to me, and 
 he has forbidden me to speak of it to him. You 
 know how cranky these professors are. He is 
 a professor of chemistry and all sorts of things, 
 you know; and a member of scientific academies 
 in Rome and Philadelphia and Berlin and heaven
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 175 
 
 knows where. I often tell him he forgets he has 
 a wife at all. Think of dragging me all over 
 South America collecting mosquitoes, and then 
 coming home in February of all times." 
 
 "Did you take the children?" 
 
 "Good heavens, no, we were uncomfortable 
 enough without that. As far as that goes, he 
 wanted to leave me with them. But I insisted on 
 going with him, and for once I got my way. 
 Jeanne! stop and have tea with me, and you will 
 see him. He condescends to come in for a cup of 
 tea, sometimes, though he hates this room simply 
 because it is done up according to my taste. " 
 
 "But I saw him at your wedding. Still it 
 was only for a moment, and I don't think I should 
 recognise him," said Jeanne. 
 
 "It is so long ago nine years, " sighed Cecilia. 
 " You must be getting on, Jeanne; and yet, I de- 
 clare you look as childish as ever. I wonder you 
 never married. Do you mean to say there has 
 been no one absolutely no one ?" 
 
 "No one at all," said Jeanne, blushing. 
 
 " Not in all these years. " 
 
 " There is Louis. He has been enough for me. 
 We are too fond of each other, I suppose, to think 
 about falling in love. " 
 
 "Oh, my dear, ridiculous! Brothers and sis- 
 ters are all very well, but they are not everything. 
 Well, you surprise me, for I always thought you 
 pretty in your dark sort of way, you know.
 
 176 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 But perhaps now you are up here, we shall see! 
 How you blush! Does that mean you have 
 some one in your eye?" 
 
 " I have no one in my eye, " said Jeanne, almost 
 angrily. "Oh, Cecilia, do not talk about it, 
 please." 
 
 "You are surely not going to be coy!" said 
 Cecilia, severely. "At your age, Jeanne, it would 
 be a pity if you could not talk things over sensibly. 
 Why, at twenty-five I was the mother of six 
 already, and a seventh but no matter. So you 
 have not even had a chance to get married! 
 Though to be sure who is there to marry at Pen- 
 y-waun? It was a miracle Joseph turning up. 
 I shall never forget my first view of him; at the 
 archaeological picnic at Tref-goch. (Archaeology 
 is his recreation, his recreation if you will be- 
 lieve me!) He went poking about the ruins in 
 spectacles, and gave a lecture afterwards; and 
 I didn't understand a single word of it, and 
 thought what a dull creature he was." 
 
 "And yet you married him in a month!" 
 
 " My dear, anybody would have married Joseph 
 if he 'd wanted to make them. He 's one of those 
 ugly powerful men who fascinate women," 
 said Cecilia solemnly. "Nobody can say I have 
 a jealous disposition, but if you could see how they 
 run after him still! I only wish they could see 
 him at home in some of his moods. I assure you, 
 Jeanne, he is absolutely violent when he is an-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 177 
 
 noyed, and I verily believe he has the worst 
 temper in the world. " 
 
 Jeanne, somewhat shocked and distressed by 
 such revelations, sought in vain for words to con- 
 vey her sympathy as delicately as possible to 
 this much-enduring wife; but she was relieved 
 of her difficulty by Cecilia's calmly proceeding 
 to add: 
 
 " Not but what I rather like a man with a bad 
 temper, myself. Well to return to that picnic; 
 there were half a dozen women there, trying their 
 best to attract him by jabbering science to him. 
 If they had but known how he hated it ! If there 
 is any jabbering of that kind to be done, he natu- 
 rally likes to do it himself. He determined to 
 marry me the instant he set eyes on me. He 
 has a weakness for fair complexions. You see 
 what a wreck mine is now. But what can you 
 expect? Seven children in nine years," she 
 repeated mournfully. 
 
 "I think, Cecilia, if you ask me, that you are 
 much better looking than you used to be," said 
 Jeanne, consolingly, "and you know you were 
 always pretty. Of course you are a little plumper. 
 But not more than is becoming. " 
 
 "I'm sure it 's very kind of you to say so," 
 said Cecilia, in pleased and softened tones. "Of 
 course I have every advantage of dress now to 
 set me off. I will say Joseph doesn't grudge 
 me that, " and she glanced with some complacency 
 
 ia
 
 178 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 at her own reflection in the pier glass opposite 
 the sofa. "Well Jeanne, we were always friends, 
 you know, off and on and if I was a little 
 reserved when you first came in, I hope you will 
 put it down to " she paused imperceptibly 
 "to my thinking you were on Mamma's side, 
 and all that, and come to reproach me, as the 
 Pen-y-waun neighbours do whenever we meet. 
 As though a celebrity's wife, in another sphere 
 could keep up with them all. " 
 
 Jeanne accepted her friend's apologies very 
 willingly; and if any doubts of Cecilia's sincerity 
 still lurked in her heart, did her best to suppress 
 them. She was at once too lonely and too gener- 
 ous to desire any quarrel with her first friend. 
 Even if Cecilia were not as disinterested in her 
 affection as could be wished, it must still be more 
 lively to sit and talk with her, than to mope in 
 solitary silence at home. 
 
 " So your aunt left you no money. I must say 
 that was a great shame," said Cecilia, warmly. 
 "What will become of you when Louis marries? 
 So good-looking as he used to be, he is certain 
 to marry now. Why, even in the old days I used 
 to think if he had n't been younger than I " 
 
 "He never showed the slightest inclination to 
 marry anybody, " said Jeanne, jealously. 
 
 " Not to you, I daresay, " said Cecilia, shrewdly. 
 "One's brothers don't tell one everything." 
 
 " My brother does, " said Jeanne.
 
 179 
 
 "Oh, my dear! So you think! But one never 
 can tell with one's brothers. Look at Tom. 
 What a creature he has married. I never see 
 him now. " 
 
 "Louis is very unlike Tom." 
 
 "Men are all alike in some ways, my dear," 
 said Cecilia, with the pitying superiority of the 
 married woman talking to the spinster. "Of 
 course Louis will marry now that he is rich. 
 Surely you could not be so selfish as to wish him 
 not to?" 
 
 " Some day, of course, " said Jeanne. " I want 
 him to marry. But he promised me faithfully, 
 long ago, that he would never marry any one I 
 did n't like so it will be all right, and I shan't 
 mind when the time comes. Still I may hope, 
 without being selfish, that it won't come just yet. 
 He has his career to think about first. " 
 
 "I don't see how one can expect to like one's 
 brothers' wives," said Cecilia. "They always 
 marry some horrid woman or other. Men are so 
 easily taken in. Joseph's sisters can't bear me, 
 and I never even troubled to be civil to them, 
 knowing very well that it would be no use. He 
 goes to see his people by himself, and as they 
 are all scientific together, I 'm sure it 's no loss. " 
 
 "But you'll come and see me, " entreated 
 Jeanne. 
 
 "Certainly I will," said Cecilia. "I can assure 
 you I know very well what it is to be alone.
 
 i8o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Joseph goes to the most outlandish places, and if 
 he can slip off without me, he will. Imagine, at 
 his age, going out to South Africa." 
 
 "To fight!" 
 
 "No no, not to fight he was a surgeon in 
 his youth and thought he could be of use. Of 
 course nobody wanted him. I felt sure of that. 
 He was much too old. But that is Joseph all 
 over. If he has made up his mind to do a thing, 
 he does it. So off he went in spite of all I could 
 say ; though he was quite violent when I suggested 
 I might go with him and nurse some of the officers. 
 My heart goes out to the wounded men. But 
 you will be wanting to go shopping, Jeanne, and 
 I really might help you over that " she cast an 
 expressive glance at Jeanne's plain dress. "I 
 can show you where to buy all the nicest clothes ; 
 and you can't be wearing mourning much longer, 
 just for a great-aunt. " 
 
 " Indeed I want to show every respect in my 
 power, to poor Aunt Caroline. It is the least 
 I can do," said Jeanne. 
 
 "I suppose Louis inheriting her money does 
 make a difference," said Cecilia, calmly. 
 
 Jeanne gave up all attempts to explain that 
 the fortune had nothing to do with it. 
 
 There were some things Cecilia had never been 
 able to understand. 
 
 One was Jeanne's reverence for her French 
 descent; which Cecilia had always honestly
 
 OP GROSVENOR SQUARE 181 
 
 deplored; and they had once called each other 
 Jenny and Cissie for a week because she had 
 casually remarked there was generally something 
 rather fishy about foreign blood. 
 
 Louis had finally forbidden his sister to mention 
 the sacred subject of the ancienne noblesse at the 
 Rectory, and she implicitly obeyed his orders; 
 the cause of this particular quarrel was eventually 
 almost forgotten. 
 
 "I will go shopping with you, or do anything 
 you like," said Jeanne, happily, "and I hope you 
 will come to me as soon as possible, for I long 
 to show you the house. " 
 
 "Let me just take a squint at my engagement 
 book, and we '11 settle it at once, " said Cecilia, 
 importantly. "And let me see how tiresome 
 of Joseph ; I want you to know him so much and 
 he does not seem inclined to come in; they must 
 have told him I had a visitor. How would it be 
 if I brought him to dine with you one night, 
 quite quietly, you know, only our three selves 
 in Grosvenor Square?" 
 
 "It would be very kind of you indeed," said 
 the lonely lady, gratefully.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 THE CONCERT 
 
 ON Wednesday afternoon Jeanne drove round 
 the Park as usual, until it was time for the 
 Duchess to be At Home. 
 
 The weather had become suddenly and severely 
 cold, so that the place looked almost deserted. 
 
 The icy breath of the east wind swayed the 
 topmost branches of the bare black trees; the 
 benches on the frost-bitten paths were whitened 
 over; the drooping shrubs hung their shriv- 
 elled leaves, and the scanty grass was hard and 
 crystallized. 
 
 The children of the poor remained prudently 
 away; and only the children of the upper classes 
 were sent forth as usual, to brave the bitter 
 cold; with purple cheeks and little scarlet noses 
 they trotted along, wrapped in cloth and velvet; 
 sometimes gaitered, sometimes with bare little 
 blue legs that had some ado to keep pace with 
 hurrying nurses and governesses. 
 
 Jeanne, in the comfortable close carriage, 
 shivered in spite of black fox rug and carpeted 
 foot-warmer; and in spite of the excitement of 
 
 182
 
 THE LONELY LADY. 183 
 
 anticipation which made her cheeks burn. But 
 Buckam and William on the box, each burying a 
 scornful nose in the depths of his broad fur tippet, 
 appeared unconscious of the inclemency of the 
 weather. 
 
 Frost is pleasant enough when the sun shines 
 brightly over snowy land and glistening bough, 
 but Jeanne found it depressing indeed in this 
 grey chill atmosphere, with a heavy pall of 
 yellow fog visibly suspended above; grimly 
 waiting to descend upon London the moment 
 the east wind should cease whistling among the 
 chimney-pots, and sink to frozen sleep. 
 
 A long line of carriages was slowly passing 
 before the front door of the Duchess of Monaghan's 
 house in Park Lane, and Miss Mamey's brougham 
 took its place in the rank, with its frightened 
 occupant; who descended in her turn, and went 
 into the warm and brightly lighted hall, and up 
 the staircase, which was thronged but not crowded, 
 with a goodly number of ladies and a very few 
 gentlemen. 
 
 Among the velvets and silks and sables sur- 
 rounding her, Jeanne in her plain black jacket 
 and crape toque looked, as she was, a little alien 
 to fashion ; and began to wonder, rather miserably 
 and nervously, why she had come at all, as she 
 looked round her in vain for a friendly face. 
 
 But her name or the garbled version of it
 
 184 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 which must pass muster when a foreign appel- 
 lation is in question was announced with the 
 others, and she found herself shaking hands with 
 her hostess in her turn. 
 
 Her awe of the Duchess amounted to terror, 
 but her alarm was wasted; the Duchess smiled 
 at everybody and recognised nobody, for she was 
 short-sighted to blindness, and her glasses, without 
 which she was helpless, had become entangled 
 in the ruffles of her Mechlin fichu. 
 
 Jeanne had, happily, no time to utter the 
 greetings and explanations which she had com- 
 posed and rehearsed in the carriage, before finding 
 herself seated on a little gilt chair in a row of other 
 little gilt chairs, and behind several large picture 
 hats, through the chinks of which she ventured 
 to peep; and beheld a grand piano, a group of 
 palms, and a gentleman with long hair clasping 
 a violoncello. 
 
 Where was the Duke? Where, oh, where was 
 kind Cousin Denis? 
 
 Regardless of the fact that the hats and bonnets 
 around her were stationary, Jeanne's little black 
 toque bobbed up and down in the hope of dis- 
 covering him. 
 
 Her efforts were presently rewarded, and she 
 beheld him, though in the surrounding hum 
 of conversation she could not hear him politely 
 conversing with another long-haired gentleman 
 who was preparing to take his place at the piano.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 185 
 
 As she looked, there jumped up and spoke to 
 the Duke a young man so like him in face and 
 colouring that Jeanne concluded it must be his 
 brother. A tall, broad-shouldered young man, 
 with the same fair hair and straight features, 
 but as burly in figure and florid of colouring as 
 Cousin Denis was slight and pale. 
 
 Jeanne suddenly realised, as the brothers 
 stood side by side, what the Duke ought to have 
 been like had it not been for the accident which 
 had spoilt his life. 
 
 It must be his brother, she thought, and in the 
 warmth of her heart she addressed an interested 
 enquiry on the subject to the lady who occupied 
 the little gilt chair next to her own, on the left. 
 
 The lady having paused to overcome her 
 dismayed surprise at being addressed at all by a 
 total stranger answered rather shortly that the 
 young man in question was Lord Dermot Liscar- 
 ney, and turned her right shoulder to Jeanne as 
 a sign that she was not prepared to continue this 
 illicit intercourse. Thus another lesson found 
 its way home to the timid soul of Jeanne, who 
 knew not that, although in most civilised coun- 
 tries a stranger in a friend's house is the friend 
 of your friend, and consequently your own, at 
 least during your sojourn under the same roof 
 yet in England a stranger in such circumstances, 
 far from being treated with the extra courtesy 
 due to his solitary position, must be solemnly
 
 i86 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 and severely ostracised until the magic words of 
 introduction have been spoken. 
 
 But Jeanne was as young in spirit as in ap- 
 pearance; and she presently recovered from this 
 rebuff, in the excitement, incidental to rusticity, 
 of beholding a face she recognised in an unknown 
 crowd. 
 
 Mrs. Wheler, smarter than ever, was seated 
 at right angles to her in the middle of another 
 row of gilt chairs, and Jeanne could not help 
 bestowing upon her a timid, but friendly glance, 
 which somehow managed to express recognition, 
 greeting, and apology for past errors, in one 
 fleeting smile. 
 
 Mrs. Wheler's mechanical head bowed politely, 
 before her dormant intellect had time to grasp 
 the fact that this was a person whom she had no 
 intention of admitting to her acquaintance at 
 all ; but Jeanne, happy in the salutation obtained, 
 was spared the contemplation of Mrs. Wheler's 
 after expression, for her attention was attracted 
 elsewhere. The violoncello now began its plaintive 
 song, and the well-bred crowd was instantly 
 hushed into attentive silence. 
 
 Jeanne's experience of music had been hitherto 
 confined almost entirely to the efforts of the 
 choir at Pen-y-waun, the harmonium, played 
 with tormenting inaccuracy by Mrs. Da vies, and 
 Cecilia's remarkable performances upon the piano- 
 forte; diversified by variations upon the con-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 187 
 
 certina executed by John Evans on Saturday 
 nights when Uncle Roberts could be persuaded 
 to put up with the noise. 
 
 The brilliant exception to these deplorable 
 experiences had been the visits of a strolling 
 Welsh harpist to her uncle's farm, and the un- 
 accompanied part-singing of the men in the 
 village, whose souls were musical within them, 
 though their voices lacked training, and who con- 
 sequently sang a great deal better without Mrs. 
 Davies and her harmonium than with them. 
 
 Thus the music of Schumann's Traumerei, 
 played by a master hand, took Jeanne unawares, 
 and charmed her into an utter forgetfulness of 
 her surroundings, her nervousness, and her 
 isolation in the midst of a crowd, 
 
 Breathless and entranced she listened, the 
 tears dropping unheeded from her brown eyes 
 on to the little black gloved hands tightly clasped 
 in her lap. 
 
 The great 'cellist, playing his little selection 
 of the Kinderscenen, had no such thrilled and 
 absorbed listener, had he known it, as that igno- 
 rant country maiden, in all the musical and 
 cultivated audience assembled before him. 
 
 When it was over, she came to herself with 
 a start, and dried her tears, and looked anxiously 
 around her, to see if any one had noticed them. 
 
 But when the audience had applauded the 
 performer w r ith subdued and regulated enthusiasm,
 
 i88 ; THE LONELY LADY 
 
 the hum of conversation was renewed, and Jeanne 
 found she might cry at will, for her neighbours 
 were far too absorbed in each other to observe her. 
 
 Impatiently she awaited the next item on the 
 programme. A lady sang three German songs, 
 one after the other, allowing a short pause for 
 encouragement between each; but this time, 
 though the applause was more enthusiastic, 
 Jeanne remained unmoved; neither the voice of 
 the singer, nor the words of a language she did 
 not understand, appealed to her. She became 
 conscious that the room was insufferably hot, 
 in spite of its size; or was it only that she was 
 shaken by her emotion, and needed fresh air to 
 recover herself? 
 
 At the end of the third song she heard a voice 
 behind her saying, 
 
 "Is the Duke going to play?" 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so," was the answer. 
 
 " He plays so delightfully. " 
 
 "Quite charming. But I hope it will be 
 Chopin. " 
 
 " Oh! he plays his own compositions, sometimes, 
 doesn't he? Aren't they good?" 
 
 " Excellent ! But I prefer Chopin. " 
 
 A laugh. 
 
 Jeanne felt indignant on her cousin's account. 
 Why should Chopin be preferred? 
 
 Perhaps she understood presently, when (with 
 quite a glow of cousinly affection and sympathy)
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 189 
 
 she saw the Duke mounting the low platform, 
 and heard the slight demonstration of polite 
 applause (in which poor Jeanne joined with all 
 her might, indignant it should be no louder) as 
 he took his seat before the piano. The long- 
 haired gentleman shut down the music holder, 
 and propped open the top of the instrument. 
 
 The Duke had no affectations and no manner- 
 isms ; yet he played brilliantly. 
 
 "Chopin," whispered the lady behind Jeanne. 
 
 And again Jeanne forgot where she was. 
 
 She thought of Louis sailing away over far 
 seas, bound for the desert of Somaliland, full of 
 hope, and youth, and courage; this strange new 
 Louis of the photograph, lean and soldierly in 
 his khaki uniform; grown from a merry boy to 
 strong and serious manhood. 
 
 She thought how much she loved him, and of 
 the days when they had climbed the Pen-y-waun 
 hills together to Coed-Ithel, and ridden the cart- 
 horses to water, and hunted in cowsheds, hay- 
 lofts and bams, for hens' eggs; and beaten 
 the orchard trees to shake down the cider 
 apples. 
 
 She thought of the first time he had left home, 
 and gone, in the care of the head-master, who 
 knew his history, and had taken a fancy to him, 
 to live at the grammar school at Tref-goch. A 
 little chubby fellow of seven and a half ; even then 
 determined to get the best education in his power ;
 
 1 90 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 even then master, though he knew it not, of his 
 stubborn uncle's heart. 
 
 She remembered that she had walked five of 
 the seven miles to town with the boy and the man, 
 knowing that she must return alone to Coed- 
 Ithel ; that the master had chanced to be looking 
 another way when the little boy stood on tiptoe 
 (for Jeanne was taller than her twin until they 
 reached their teens, when he shot up far above 
 her), and put his arms round his sister's neck, 
 and said wistfully " Good-bye, Jenny " ; an embrace 
 which took her so by surprise for Louis was 
 at the age when kisses were displeasing to his 
 manly dignity that she had hardly responded 
 at the time, though she wept at night afterwards 
 when she recollected it. 
 
 The scene came back to her now with a vivid- 
 ness that surprised herself: the long, white road 
 by the river; the little boy with his dusty boots 
 and cherub face; the small figure trotting into 
 the distance by the big man's side; and occa- 
 sionally turning to flutter a grimy little hand- 
 kerchief. . . . Louis, bravely trudging into the 
 unknown, with a heart full of courage; and yet 
 always that sweetness of regret for the sister he 
 must leave behind, in that long vanished time, 
 even as now. She was surprised at the force 
 and strength of her imagination until the Duke's 
 music died away, and her emotions with it; and 
 left her pale and quiet, realising that it was
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 191 
 
 Chopin, after all, who had inspired and glorified 
 her tender memories of the past. 
 
 She wished that the concert might last for 
 ever, and was too much absorbed to notice that 
 here and there were gaps in the audience now, 
 where a few of the guests had melted away during 
 the intervals; their places sometimes being filled 
 by newcomers, and sometimes not. 
 
 Thus she did not perceive that the vacant 
 chair on her right had been quietly taken, and 
 she started violently as a voice in low tones ad- 
 dressed her by name. 
 
 " How do you do, Cousin Jeanne ? " said the Duke. 
 
 He saw immediately the traces of tears on her 
 long black lashes, and the perception made his 
 voice especially gentle. 
 
 She instinctively lowered her own clear tones 
 to correspond. 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Denis, I never heard anything 
 like it. And you played Chopin." 
 
 "Are you particularly fond of Chopin?" 
 
 "I never heard of him. They said it was 
 Chopin. But I shall always like him now. Like ! 
 What a tame word. I shall always wonder at him, 
 and love him, and reverence him since he wrote 
 music like that. I even forgot it was you who 
 were playing." 
 
 "I am very glad you forget that," he said 
 simply.
 
 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "Is it nearly all over?" 
 
 "There is an instrumental quartette; and 
 I am afraid that is all." 
 
 "Ought I to go?" said Jeanne ingenuously. 
 
 " I hope every one will stay for that, " said the 
 Duke, politely. 
 
 " It was very kind of the Duchess to invite me ; 
 do you think I ought to thank her? I am sure it 
 was you who put it into her head. " 
 
 "She has these little concerts chiefly to please 
 me," said the Duke, "she does not care much 
 for music herself." 
 
 ''And you but I need not ask if you care " 
 
 " I am afraid I care too much, " he said. 
 
 "Can one care too much?" 
 
 But the quartette began ; and he only smiled at 
 her, and said nothing. 
 
 She had no opportunity for thanking the 
 Duchess, though she waited timidly for some mo- 
 ments, trying to do so; hovering on the outskirts 
 of the little group who stood talking and laugh- 
 ing round their hostess, and who were evidently 
 intimate friends. 
 
 Her cousin Denis waited at the head of the 
 staircase for her, as she made her little efforts to 
 approach his mother; and then smiled and made 
 her a gentle sign, which she instantly obeyed. 
 
 She followed the down-stream, and watched 
 his slow progress through the hall, and his 
 courteous response to the greetings and compli-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 193 
 
 ments from one and another; then she heard him 
 order a servant close to the hall door to call her 
 carriage ; and he came back to her side. 
 
 " When may I come and see you again, Cousin 
 Jeanne?" said the Duke. 
 
 "Whenever you like," said Jeanne, happy in 
 the recollection of her sensible uncle's permission. 
 
 "Then I will come to-morrow," said Cousin 
 Denis, with the little bow that half amused and 
 half embarrassed Jeanne. 
 
 At home she found her first letters from Louis 
 in Somaliland awaiting her; and the hopefulness 
 and good spirits which inspired the writer im- 
 mediately communicated themselves to her as 
 she read: 
 
 "... Here we are at last on terra fir ma. The 
 country is open sandy desert, not nearly so hot as I 
 expected, as there is a strong steady N. E. wind 
 always blowing, so the nights are cool. We have 
 a nice roomy camping ground with good wells, and 
 we are all in tents, a luxury we enjoy here for the 
 last time, as no tents will be taken on the march. . . 
 Saturday I rode out and shot a buck, there are plenty 
 to be got about six miles inland; they are a kind of 
 gazelle, and very good eating. . . . This morning I 
 wandered along the beautiful sandy beach, and 
 watched the great green waves flinging their white 
 manes about and felt all the love for the sea which 
 I always experience when I'm on shore. "
 
 194 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Then followed a spirited description of the 
 ingenuity and handiness of the blue jackets 
 in swimming the horses ashore through the 
 surf, which Jeanne only skimmed in her eager- 
 ness to arrive at the more personal parts of the 
 letter. 
 
 "... We are busy working out our transport, 
 cheese-paring and weighing everything, and won- 
 dering what we can do without and what, if anything, 
 we can possibly take. ... 500 camels arrived yes- 
 terday from Berber a, and some African boys for 
 work, and another 500 are expected on another 
 transport soon; they are swum or dragged ashore 
 in the same way as the horses. . . . My best chum 
 writes congratulating me on coming here, and says 
 what lots of fellows say, who have gone home, that 
 England is a happy goal in the abstract, but a little 
 disappointing in realisation; he advises me to stick 
 to every bit of active work I can get till I'm forty. 
 This I am perfectly willing to do, but all his wisdom 
 does n't prevent me from sighing for a glimpse 
 of you, my Jeannie, and I 'm a bit impatient to 
 be up and off. . . . For from the day we leave 
 Obbia I shall feel I am trekking towards you and 
 happiness. " 
 
 "It is really almost as though he had started 
 on the journey home, " cried Jeanne, beaming 
 with joy, and oblivious of the long stretches of 
 waterless burning desert yet to be traversed 
 before Louis could set sail for England.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 195 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I 'm glad indeed, and when 
 does the young master think to be at home?" 
 said Dunham, who now evinced more interest 
 in Louis than in any other human creaure. 
 
 " He says he hopes probably in the early sum- 
 mer, so far as can be foreseen. Oh, Mrs. Dunham, 
 I have had such a delightful afternoon, and now 
 these letters to keep me company all the evening, " 
 said Jeanne. "And that reminds me," she 
 added nervously, "that the Duke said he would 
 come and see me to-morrow. And I wanted 
 to ask you do you think Mrs. Pyke would mind 
 very much if the pictures were uncovered? The 
 Duke said he would like to see them. If it would 
 not be giving too much trouble, and if you think 
 Mrs. Pyke would not mind?" 
 
 "It 's you that 's mistress here, ma'am, not 
 Pyke, I hope," said Mrs. Dunham, with a sudden 
 access of deference for which Jeanne was at a loss 
 to account. " And if she 's not well enough to see 
 to it and what can be expected at her age? 
 I '11 speak to the housemaids myself. It 's time 
 everything in the galleries was uncovered again, 
 for poor Miss Marney always had it done from time 
 to time; and since we had the electric light put 
 into the house, she used to like to see the saloons 
 all lit up now and then. I '11 send round to Storr 
 & Warner, the furniture people, at once," said 
 Dunham, suavely. "When did you say his 
 Grace would be here?"
 
 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "To-morrow; I think about tea-time," said 
 Jeanne. 
 
 "Then I daresay you '11 wish tea served in the 
 music-room for a change; and the fires lighted. 
 I '11 speak to Hewitt and to the head housemaid. 
 We can easily get it done in time, Miss Jane, 
 between us." 
 
 It needed but the approval of Dunham to fill 
 the cup of the lonely lady's felicity full to over- 
 flowing.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 THE PARTY IN THE PICTURE GALLERY 
 
 HEWITT mounted the echoing stone staircase 
 with considerate deliberation, and ushered the 
 Duke into the middle of three communicating 
 saloons on the drawing-room floor. 
 
 The tapestry chairs and sofas had been un- 
 covered; and the great folding doors had all been 
 thrown open, so that a long, broad gallery was 
 formed, brilliantly lighted, and hung with pic- 
 tures from end to end. 
 
 The music -room was the largest of the three 
 lofty and spacious saloons; and the little figure 
 in black, seated behind a low table and a steaming 
 urn, at the far end of the gallery, looked quite 
 a long way off, and very solitary. 
 
 But Jeanne came hurrying forward between 
 the long lines of full-length portraits, and greeted 
 her cousin warmly on the threshold of the music- 
 room. 
 
 "I had the furniture uncovered, and the cur- 
 tains drawn, and the lights turned on, all for 
 you," she said, delighted, "so that VQU can look 
 
 197
 
 198 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 at the pictures, or play on the piano, or whatever 
 you choose. Mrs. Dunham was so kind about it ; 
 she said everything should be arranged properly 
 jtist as though we were giving a party. " 
 
 "It is very kind of you to invite me to your 
 party," he said, laughing, "though I am afraid, 
 now I come to think of it, that I invited myself!" 
 
 " I am At Home, like the Duchess, " said Jeanne, 
 seriously, "and I am very glad you have come. 
 Do you know," she looked round her a little 
 fearfully, "it was rather ghostly before you 
 came, with these ladies and gentlemen watching 
 me from the walls, all lighted up, and looking 
 so lifelike. I felt a little as if I were really giving 
 a party, and as if only dead people were at it. 
 You may imagine how nice it was to see a real 
 live human being come in. It feels quite dif- 
 ferent now, even if one's voice does echo through 
 the rooms more than one could wish. " 
 
 "You must be very lonely indeed, living 
 by yourself in this big house, " said the Duke, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 "I am getting used to it, and I do not mind 
 nearly so much now that I sleep on the top floor 
 close to the maids. When first I came they put 
 me in the corner room there, ' ' she pointed to the 
 closed doors behind her, "quite by myself on 
 this storey. I was dreadfully nervous at night; 
 though less nervous than I should have been 
 if I nad known that all the Marneys of Orsett
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 199 
 
 who ever lived were lining these walls, trying to 
 stare through their shrouds," she shuddered 
 slightly. 
 
 " I am sure it is bad for you, " said the Duke. 
 " Is n't there some one who could come here and 
 take care of you? you look much too young to 
 be here all alone." 
 
 "It is my duty to take care of the house, and 
 the furniture and I am only alone till Louis 
 conies home," she said wistfully. "I am waiting 
 waiting always waiting for him. Sometimes 
 it seems very long." 
 
 " How do you occupy yourself? " said the Duke, 
 accepting the tea and cake she offered. 
 
 "I don't occupy myself very much," she 
 answered, honestly. "You see I am accustomed 
 to a very different kind of life, Cousin Denis. I 
 have always lived on a farm, and helped in all 
 kinds of household work ; and here there is nothing 
 of that kind to be done. So I am very dull and 
 unoccupied." 
 
 " But there are other kinds of work besides 
 farm work," said the Duke, in a tone of gentle 
 raillery. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I have found none. " 
 
 "You read?" 
 
 " I tried," said Jeanne, " as soon as the book- 
 cases were unlocked. But you have no idea 
 what dull old books they are. All f's instead of
 
 200 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 s's, and most difficult to understand. Mrs. 
 Dunham says Aunt Caroline used to subscribe 
 to a circulating library, but Uncle Roberts would 
 be so shocked at my reading novels; and I felt, 
 too, I might be getting the wrong ones without 
 Louis to guide me. He used to send me books 
 sometimes. But I know those almost by heart. 
 He sent me cheap editions of what he says are 
 classical standard works, and yet delightful to 
 read, and poetry. And when he went mad over 
 Cyrano de Bergerac (he is always enthusiastic 
 over some book or other) he sent me a copy of 
 that, and implored me to read it. But my 
 French is so very bad. " 
 
 "You could improve it," he suggested. 
 
 " I finished my education at sixteen, " said 
 Jeanne, quite seriously. "You see," she ex- 
 plained, " I shared Cecilia's lessons at the Rectory 
 till she was eighteen, and then she married; so 
 of course the governess went away, and I could 
 learn no more. I don't believe she knew French 
 very well herself, either." 
 
 "Then I should be the more inclined to take 
 lessons now," said the Duke, always with the 
 same sound of raillery, half amused, half tender, 
 in his voice. 
 
 " But I am twenty-five, " said Jeanne. 
 
 "So am I but I am still very busy learning 
 things I don't know. " 
 
 She smiled.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 201 
 
 " I never thought of it, I never heard of people 
 taking lessons at twenty-five!" 
 
 "Think of it now; and I will, if you like, find 
 somebody who will be very glad to give you 
 lessons. " 
 
 "Thank you, Cousin Denis. It is an excellent 
 idea," said Jeanne, gratefully, "and it will help 
 to pass the time till Louis conies home. Do 
 you think I could learn to speak it really well 
 before June?" 
 
 " I think you could learn a great deal. " 
 
 " How glad Louis would be. He knows it very 
 well indeed, but then he is so clever at languages. 
 He worked at French and German with all his 
 might when he was cramming for Sandhurst. 
 But I am clever at nothing, and though I boast 
 of my French descent I scarcely know a dozen 
 words of what should be my native language. " 
 
 "London affords plenty of facilities for most 
 studies, " said the Duke; " if I were you I should 
 lose not a moment, but begin at once whilst I had 
 so much time on my hands. I noticed yesterday 
 you were fond of music. Can you play?" 
 
 " Not a note. " 
 
 "I 'm afraid I 'm rather glad! It is so much 
 better not to play at all than to play a little," 
 said the Duke, whimsically. 
 
 "But you can sing?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I can sing; but not like the lady 
 who sang at your concert."
 
 202 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "Heaven forbid," said the Duke, with great 
 fervour. " Still, as I played to you at my party, 
 I hope you will sing to me at yours. " 
 
 " I know more hymns than songs, " said Jeanne, 
 " but I can sing ' Rock me to Sleep, Mother, ' 
 and ' We are coming, Sister Mary, ' and one or two 
 songs like that, if you don't mind my singing 
 without an accompaniment?" 
 
 " I hoped you would let me accompany you. " 
 
 "But I have no music." 
 
 "I think I can manage to improvise, if you 
 sing nothing very difficult," he said, smiling. 
 
 She looked at him respectfully, now feeling 
 sure that he must be a genius. 
 
 "It is very easy to sing in an empty room, 
 I find, " said Jeanne, when the last echoes of her 
 clear soprano voice had died away. 
 
 The Duke sprang from the music seat, and took 
 her hand impetuously. 
 
 "Cousin Jeanne, promise me you will never 
 take any singing lessons?" 
 
 "I did not know I needed any," said Jeanne, 
 astonished, and without any idea of the depths 
 of ignorance she thus naively revealed. 
 
 He laughed, and laughed again; but always 
 with the same kindness almost tenderness in 
 his blue eyes which made his laughter pleasant 
 to hear. 
 
 "Is it bad, my singing?" she asked, laughing
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 203 
 
 in sympathy, and without any anxiety as to his 
 reply. To Jeanne there were but two kinds 
 of singing. One was in tune, and one was not; 
 and she knew she sang in tune. 
 
 "It is charming. That is why I should 
 be so sorry to see you learning to make faces, 
 and produce your voice properly. You sing like 
 the peasants in Italy naturally ; only not through 
 your nose as they do! you sing like a thrush in 
 the fields or a lark in the sky without an effort 
 or a thought. And your voice is as sweet and 
 true as your heart. " 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Denis!" said Jeanne, rather 
 shocked, and yet half pleased. 
 
 "I could not have said all that, you know 
 if I had not been your cousin, " said the Duke, 
 with his funny little bow. "You are not angry 
 with me for saying it, I hope?" 
 
 "How could I be angry? It sounded very 
 very nice, only rather poetical," said Jeanne, 
 blushing. 
 
 He did not answer this, but turned to the piano 
 again, and his fingers presently wandered into 
 an old melody, which he took as the theme of 
 an improvisation, and played rather stormily 
 throughout the removal of the tea things by 
 Hewitt and William on tiptoe. 
 
 "And now for the pictures, " he said. 
 
 " I cannot tell you much about them, " said 
 Jeanne, rather sadly, "for though the names of
 
 204 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 the people are written on the backs of all the por- 
 traits, luckily, they are much too heavy to move. 
 And no one is left who knows anything about 
 them now Aunt Caroline is dead, except Mrs. 
 Pyke, and Mrs. Dunham thinks she is getting 
 rather childish. They did n't dare tell her even 
 about the uncovering of the pictures. " 
 
 " If I were you I would not have them covered 
 up again. It is not usual to cover up pictures. 
 Suppose one of the more valuable ones were 
 cut out of the frame, why, no one would be 
 any the wiser. Such things have happened." 
 
 "I will certainly keep them uncovered," said 
 Jeanne, in alarm. "Aunt Caroline had a mania 
 for covering up everything, even her hands"; 
 she thought of the white kid gloves. " Mr. Valen- 
 tine said that some of these paintings were very 
 valuable indeed, but that some were only copies 
 of great pictures. " 
 
 "Here are two fine Van Dycks, " said the 
 Duke, pointing out a cavalier Marney and his 
 dame, "and that must certainly be a Sir Joshua. 
 I saw some wonderful Dutch landscapes as I 
 came in. " 
 
 "Did you like them?" said Jeanne, surprised. 
 " I thought them very ugly. " 
 
 Though she could tell her cousin Denis so 
 little about the pictures, it presently appeared 
 that he could tell her a great deal. 
 
 He recognised the work of various artists, and
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 205 
 
 was evidently delighted to examine it in detail. 
 She followed him from one picture to another in 
 great amaze. Louis knew nothing about pictures! 
 
 " Do you really mean you don't like this Dutch 
 merry-making?" he cried. "This is Jan Steen. 
 Look at the peasants' homely faces overflowing 
 with satisfaction. Or this old schoolmaster by 
 Van Ostade? Or this charming courtyard with 
 the light streaming through the doorway, of 
 de Hooghe?" 
 
 "It is all Greek to me," she said honestly. 
 "But I see that when one looks into them they 
 grow more interesting. I like better the pictures 
 in the last room. Oh, this painting of a village 
 street is one of those which Mr. Valentine told 
 me were so valuable. " 
 
 "It is a Hobbema," said the Duke, instantly. 
 
 He tore himself away, but reluctantly, from 
 the Dutch collection; and followed Jeanne to 
 the last room, which contained a few fine copies 
 of famous Italian works, and a landscape of 
 Corot's, on the end wall. It was not, however, 
 to these that Jeanne directed his attention, but 
 to the pictures which crowded both sides of the 
 gallery. 
 
 Here were displayed examples of English 
 modern art in oil and water-colour; genre pic- 
 tures and landscapes, painted by the most famous 
 artists of the day, and crowded together in very 
 inartistic confusion.
 
 206 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 True to her principles, poor Miss Caroline 
 Marney had spent all her superfluous income 
 in bringing the family collection of pictures up 
 to date. 
 
 "I like these by far the best," said Jeanne, 
 lifting her brown, honest eyes to the Duke's 
 face, " and more especially do I like the landscapes ; 
 because they seem real to me, and true to nature, 
 and I can understand them. " 
 
 She showed him the miniatures of her French 
 ancestors, and told him the sad little story of 
 their lives and deaths; and the time sped so 
 quickly that when cousin Denis at last remem- 
 bered to look at his watch, he found it was 
 almost dinner-time, and rose full of confusion and 
 apology to take his leave. 
 
 "Time flies so fast in company, " sighed Jeanne. 
 
 "What shall you do now when I leave you?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "I shall go down and have my dinner. I am 
 obliged to have late dinner every night," said 
 poor Jeanne, "or Mrs. Dunham says it would 
 give the servants nothing to do, and be very 
 bad for them. " 
 
 "You dine alone?" 
 
 " Quite alone. " 
 
 "Are you always alone at meals?" he cried, 
 compassionately. 
 
 " Up to the present I have been ; but on Saturday
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 207 
 
 Cecilia and her husband are coming to dine. 
 They could not come before," she explained, 
 "because Mr. Hogg- Watson had not a free 
 evening." 
 
 " Is that Hogg- Wat son the lecturer? I heard 
 him the other night. He is very clever. " 
 
 "You seem to know everything and every- 
 body," said Jeanne, with great admiration. "I 
 cannot think how you came to know so much 
 about pictures?" 
 
 " I know very little ; but you see I am debarred 
 from the active amusements fellows of my age 
 usually have to distract them, so I 've had to 
 find my interest in other things ; travelling, art, 
 music, and so forth," he said, in a matter-of-fact 
 tone, but Jeanne divined that the subject of his 
 infirmity was a painful one. 
 
 " I suppose you would not, I wonder if you 
 would is it proper to ask you to come and dine 
 on Saturday too?" said Jeanne, wistfully. "You 
 are so kind you would tell me if I were making 
 another mistake in asking you. But when I 
 told Mrs. Dunham about the Hogg-Watsons 
 coming, she said I ought to have a fourth, and 
 make the table even. I was afraid she would 
 be rather annoyed with me for letting them 
 come so soon (comparatively) after poor Aunt 
 Caroline's death; but she said nothing under six 
 people could be counted as a dinner party; it 
 could only be a little dinner, and it would be a
 
 2o8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 relief to her to think Hewitt and William had 
 something extra to do." 
 
 "I think it would be exceedingly proper to 
 ask me," said the Duke, promptly, "and I will 
 certainly come. Thank you very much. " 
 
 " Thank you," said Jeanne, joyfully. " I was so 
 afraid you might be engaged like the Professor; 
 but I suppose you are not celebrated, as he is. 
 I will write you a little note, and tell you about 
 the time and everything. Now I shall look 
 forward to it. I was feeling rather nervous, for 
 I have never been used to late dinner at all, till 
 I came here, far less asked any one to dine with 
 me. But now you will sit at the head of the 
 table in Louis's place; and perhaps you will be 
 kind enough to frown at me if I do anything 
 wrong." 
 
 "With pleasure," said the Duke. "And I 
 shall like to get the little note. Be sure you don't 
 forget to send it. " 
 
 "I never forget anything," said Jeanne, in 
 simple good faith. 
 
 As the Duke drove home to dress, as fast as a 
 hansom could take him, he noted in his pocket 
 book the necessity for telegraphing his excuses 
 immediately to the country house where he was 
 engaged to stay for the approaching week-end.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE LITTLE DINNER 
 
 "You had best wear black grenadine, ma'am," 
 said Dunham. "That is light, yet not too light. 
 It is well over the two calendar months now, 
 and you need not mind having an evening dress 
 made simple, without any crape at all. We can 
 go to the dressmaker in Mount Street, who did 
 plain things for my poor lady. She would have 
 liked to know you was employing her. And if 
 I passed her the word as it was something special, 
 she would make you up a plain gown in two days. " 
 
 " I thought I should like black velvet, " said 
 Jeanne, but diffidently. "It has been almost 
 the dream of my life to have a velvet dress. " 
 
 "Well, 'm, I suppose it 's a dream as comes to 
 every woman sooner or later, gentle or simple. 
 Years upon years I used to wonder if I 'd ever get 
 a silk gown; and no sooner had I got it, than I 
 could n't keep my thoughts off velvet myself, 
 though unsuitable. But you 're too young for 
 it yet, Miss Jane, or too young-looking, which 
 comes to the same thing. " 
 
 "I want it to be as nice as possible," said 
 M 209
 
 210 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne, anxiously. " As it 's my first real evening 
 dress, you know." 
 
 "And who would make up a Genoa velvet, as 
 it should be made, in two days? Besides it's 
 being nothing at all without good lace which 
 I dare n't give you out though your poor aunt 
 had plenty put by without the young master's 
 leave, for it 's worth its weight in gold ; and he '11 
 be wanting it for his lady one of these days; as 
 is his right, Miss Jane, " said Dunham, who always 
 spoke as though she were safeguarding the in- 
 terests of Louis from any possible inroads his 
 sister might be tempted to make, during his ab- 
 sence. "No, it must be grenadine, and nothing 
 else." 
 
 So it was grenadine, and when Jeanne looked 
 in the glass and beheld herself for the first time 
 in an evening gown, she was not inclined to quarrel 
 with the result. 
 
 In accordance with the Duke's advice, and after 
 consultation with Mr. Valentine, she had induced 
 the servants to refrain from recovering the 
 pictures, and then and thereafter Jeanne passed 
 no inconsiderable portion of her endless leisure 
 in the saloons, where she became familiar with 
 the Dutch landscapes so much appreciated by 
 her cousin Denis, and began to like them a little, 
 after all. 
 
 "You must receive your guests in the morning- 
 room, ma'am, and after dinner it will be some-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 211 
 
 thing to do to go up to the galleries and look at 
 the pictures, especially as his Grace is so fond of 
 them ; and to play the piano in the music-room, ' ' 
 said Dunham, anxiously instructing the fright- 
 ened hostess. " I 'm sure nothing could look 
 nicer than you do, Miss Jane. It would please 
 Mrs. Pyke if we asked her to step up and see 
 you. When my poor lady was dressed for the 
 Opera or the Drawing-room, they was all let to 
 come and look at her." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dunham, I shall never be worth 
 looking at like poor Aunt Caroline must have 
 been. Even in her sick-room she was just like 
 a picture," said Jeanne, humbly. 
 
 "That was nothing to what she could look, 
 when she had the family jewels on." 
 
 "Are they very beautiful?" 
 
 " They 're very valuable, 'm, and it was always 
 a load off my mind when they was safe at the 
 bank as they are now. For many 's the time 
 I Ve shook in my shoes thinking how easily we 
 might have our throats cut in our beds if evil- 
 disposed persons knew what was in the house. " 
 
 Jeanne submitted nervously to the ordeal 
 of being exhibited by Dunham to Mrs. Pyke and 
 the four housemaids, who walked round her in 
 a solemn and awestruck silence; not so much 
 afraid of her, as of Mrs. Pyke and Dunham, 
 whose eyes were upon them. 
 
 Pyke, in her thin tremulous voice, expressed
 
 212 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 her pleasure and admiration, but the housemaids 
 knew their place too well to speak at all. They 
 made up for this discretion by imparting their 
 opinions afterwards to each other, with the utmost 
 freedom. 
 
 " Nothing but a plain black evening dress, 
 hardly even cut low to speak of an old-fashioned 
 grenadine!" said one disappointed maiden. 
 
 "The young ladies in my last place wore the 
 same every night of their lives, and we never 
 took any notice. But I suppose that old Dunham 
 thinks anything is a treat to us," said another. 
 
 "Poor thing," said the youngest housemaid. 
 " She 's pretty, is n't she, with her neck and arms 
 so white, and her eyes and hair so dark. " 
 
 "She has a lovely colour," the first housemaid 
 agreed, "but she's no way with her, not a bit. 
 Just a simple little thing! Any one could tell 
 she came out of the country and never been no- 
 where nor seen nobody. " 
 
 "You take care what you say, Eliza; for Mr. 
 Hewitt told William it 's his belief she '11 be Duch- 
 ess of Monaghan one of these days." 
 
 "I'm sure I hope she will then," said the 
 youngest housemaid sympathetically, "for she 
 always looks kind and gentle at me as if she 'd 
 speak if she dared. But that Dunham 's got 
 her under her thumb. I would n't be ordered 
 about in my own brother's house, if I was in her 
 place; no, I would n't."
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 213 
 
 Meanwhile Jeanne unconscious of the calm- 
 ness with which her person, and the possibilities 
 of her future, were being discussed by the younger 
 inmates of the household took her place on 
 the hearthrug of the morning-room, and anxiously 
 awaited her expected guests. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hogg- Watson were the first to 
 arrive, and she stepped forward with some trep- 
 idation, to greet them. 
 
 Her alarm was not diminished by Cecilia's 
 first communication, made with that rapidity 
 and secrecy which is peculiar to intimate female 
 friendship, and quite unsuspected by the tall 
 spectacled gentleman following in her wake, who 
 merely beheld a tender prolonged embrace between 
 his wife and her hostess. 
 
 "He is in one of his worst moods," breathed 
 Cecilia in Jeanne's ear, "be very careful what 
 you say." 
 
 Jeanne shook hands with Mr. Hogg- Watson, 
 after this warning, without daring to lift her 
 eyes to his face; and was relieved that he said 
 nothing worse than "How do you do?" and 
 thankful that he immediately turned his atten- 
 tion to the Romney portrait over the mantelpiece, 
 leaving his wife to make as much or as little 
 conversation as she chose. 
 
 "I declare, Jeanne, what a delightful room! 
 Crammed with hothouse flowers you extra- 
 vagant creature! And all this Louis Quinze
 
 2i 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 furniture, or is it Louis Seize? I never know the 
 difference. Isn't it charming, Joseph?" 
 
 Receiving no response but a grunt to this 
 . incautious appeal, she nodded and winked ex- 
 pressively at Jeanne behind the professor's stoop- 
 ing shoulders, and continued her cheerful remarks. 
 
 " I do think you are the luckiest person in the 
 whole world. Never did any one's past contrast 
 so vividly with their present as yours. When I 
 remember what you were at Coed-Ithel farm 
 in your early days and look at you now!" 
 
 Jeanne could not help thinking that Cecilia 
 presented quite as remarkable a contrast to what 
 she had been in early days, as she did herself. 
 
 Whether she recalled her as a prim little girl 
 in a blue cotton pinafore, with a fair pigtail, 
 feeding the Rectory fowls; or as a tall young 
 person in a home-made blue merino, and a plain 
 straw hat, leading the choir in church, and walking 
 with her father to visit school and cottages; 
 setting a demure example in neatness to the 
 village girls, it seemed equally impossible to 
 connect the memory with the Mrs. Hogg- Watson 
 of the present. 
 
 Cecilia's golden hair was now elaborately 
 waved, dressed, and perfumed; and ornamented 
 by a large diamond star. 
 
 She wore the black velvet of poor Jeanne's 
 dreams; but, far from thinking it necessary to 
 shroud herself in the old lace which Mrs. Dunham
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 215 
 
 had declared to be an indispensable adjunct, 
 she had boldly courted the contrast between the 
 severely cut tight-fitting black velvet and the 
 snowy white of her neck and shoulders. 
 
 Modest Jeanne blushed when she perceived 
 so large a proportion of Cecilia's charms unveiled ; 
 and she thought of the horror which would over- 
 come poor Mrs. Davies could she behold her 
 daughter thus excessively decolletee. But Cecilia 
 mistook her friend's anguished glance for envy, and 
 smiled inwardly at the contrast presented by 
 her own highly finished toilette to the quiet un- 
 ornamented gown of the little rustic Jeanne, 
 who appeared quite unable to rise to the op- 
 portunities afforded her, by her brother's fine 
 house and ample fortune. 
 
 " I have invited my cousin to meet you, Cecilia, " 
 said Jeanne, timidly, "to make a fourth. " 
 
 " Your cousin ! What cousin ? I did not know 
 you had a cousin!" said Cecilia, with lively 
 curiosity. "Who is he?" 
 
 " The Duke of Monaghan. " 
 
 "The Duke of !" Cecilia opened her mouth 
 and was yet speechless. 
 
 "He is a very distant cousin, but he was re- 
 lated to poor Aunt Caroline " said Jeanne, 
 hastily, " and he has heard the Prof your hus 
 Mr. Hogg- Watson lecture." 
 , At the word lecture, the great man turned 
 round, and brought his eyes slowly to the level
 
 2i 6 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 of Jeanne's countenance as she sat, nervously 
 perched on the extreme edge of her aunt's low 
 chair by the occasional table. 
 
 "Where was that?" he said. 
 
 " I do not think he said where. " 
 
 The Professor emitted another slight grunt, 
 and returned to the picture. 
 
 " Is n't he just what I told you? " asked Cecilia, 
 in mute pantomine of eyes and fingers. 
 
 Jeanne made a gesture signifying that it was 
 too early for her to offer an opinion of the Pro- 
 fessor's character. So far she must be content 
 to own that, from his appearance, Cecilia was 
 justified in having described him as an ugly and 
 powerful man; of his fascinating qualities he 
 had, as yet, certainly afforded her no evidence. 
 
 The entrance of the Duke relieved Jeanne of 
 much embarrassment. 
 
 Cousin Denis was at once so quiet, so self- 
 possessed and so helpful, that she felt her heart 
 expand in sudden grateful recognition of his good 
 breeding. 
 
 He recalled the subject and the occasion of 
 the Professor's lecture so pleasantly, that the 
 great man's brow cleared; for the compliments 
 of a Duke, even though he be but a young one, 
 are usually acceptable to the average Britisher; 
 and Mr. Hogg- Watson, his learning and celebrity 
 notwithstanding, was but an average Britisher 
 after all.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 217 
 
 Far from being too much shocked by the 
 scantiness of her bodice (as Jeanne had almost 
 feared Cousin Denis might be) to even look at 
 Cecilia, he offered her his arm with an engaging 
 smile, when Hewitt announced dinner, the instant 
 he perceived that Jeanne was at a loss; and 
 remarking that in the absence of his cousin Louis 
 he had been requested to take his place, led her 
 across the hall to the great dining-room, where 
 the table laid for four persons appeared but 
 as a small island in the midst of a wide sea of 
 parquet flooring. 
 
 Jeanne followed with the Professor, observing 
 thankfully that his glance at her, when he gave 
 her his arm, was not an unkind one. 
 
 After all, she was by no means so certain of 
 his ugliness. 
 
 A very fine pair of intent grey eyes shone behind 
 his glasses; a shock of hair between grey and 
 flaxen fell over his broad forehead; and if his 
 nose were surprisingly long and beaky, so were 
 the noses, she reflected, of many great men; 
 whilst his massive uneven profile, and wide 
 mouth, even though rather grim, were not des- 
 titute of humour. 
 
 Long before the end of dinner Jeanne found 
 herself wondering why he had married Cecilia. 
 
 If Mrs. Hogg- Watson had been content to be 
 herself lively, talkative, inconsequent, and more 
 than a little vulgar, it is possible she might have
 
 2i 8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 succeeded in amusing the Duke of Monaghan 
 very well. But though this end was the object 
 of her constant endeavour throughout the meal, 
 she unfortunately missed attaining it, through 
 her assumption of a personality which did not 
 belong to her. 
 
 Jeanne, who did not know that Cecilia was 
 trying to play the role of a smart woman of society, 
 listened to her affected, coquettish, and sometimes 
 risqute conversation, with a countenance more 
 expressive of surprise and dismay than she knew. 
 
 She did not recognise the type which Cecilia was 
 endeavouring, from the most superficial observa- 
 tion, to emulate; and in her simplicity, was 
 heartily ashamed of her friend. 
 
 Every now and then the Professor broke in 
 upon his wife's statements with a flat contradic- 
 tion ; but these interruptions, however they might 
 embarrass the Duke and his cousin Jeanne, ap- 
 peared not to ruffle the complacency of Cecilia 
 in the slightest degree. 
 
 "My husband is never happy except when 
 he 's travelling, Duke. And I am afraid I am 
 a shockingly old-fashioned wife," said Cecilia, 
 archly, "for I often go with him, instead of 
 staying at home, where I should have a much 
 better time; now shouldn't I?" 
 
 "I dislike travelling more than anything in 
 the world," growled the Professor, breaking off 
 his remarks to Jeanne, and casting a look of
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 219 
 
 positive dislike across the table at his communi- 
 cative spouse. 
 
 "Ah; so you say. But 'facts is facts, 'and 
 though we have but just returned from South 
 America, we are going to spend the summer in 
 Berlin." 
 
 "I am not going to Berlin," stated Mr. Hogg- 
 Watson ; " or if I do go, I shall go alone. " 
 
 " We shall see about that when the time comes, " 
 said Cecilia, more coquettishly than ever. Per- 
 haps it was her affectation which made her seem 
 less handsome in Jeanne's eyes to-night, than 
 she had appeared in her own house. 
 
 "Your name is French. It is historical, 
 There have been great men of that name, " said Mr, 
 Hogg- Wat son to Jeanne, abruptly. "Have you 
 not relatives in France? Or is it Jersey that 
 you come from?" 
 
 "No, we have nothing to do with Jersey. 
 My ancestors were French, " said Jeanne, delighted 
 at his choice of a subject. 
 
 "You speak French very well, I suppose?" 
 
 "I can scarcely speak it at all. And I have 
 never been in France," said Jeanne, rather 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 "I am sure, Jeanne, you know French almost 
 as well as I do," said Cecilia, with encouraging 
 patronage. "Your little cousin and I were 
 brought up together, you know, " she said, turning 
 to the Duke.
 
 220 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "At least you know enough to be aware how 
 little you know," said the Professor, ignoring 
 his wife. "That is a preliminary to learning 
 more. Your name is familiar to me, because a 
 man of that name was killed in the Boer War." 
 
 "Are you sure?" said Jeanne, much excited. 
 "My brother was in the Boer War, but he was 
 certainly not killed. Not even wounded, I am 
 thankful to say. Surely Louis would have heard 
 of it." 
 
 "It is as I say," said the Professor, shortly. 
 
 " Please tell me about it, " said Jeanne, abashed. 
 "We always hoped there might possibly be de- 
 scendants of Charles de Courset, my great-uncle 
 who stayed at home when his brother emigrated. 
 Louis hoped some day for time and means to 
 search them out. He would be so interested 
 to know. But how came a Frenchman to be 
 fighting for us?" 
 
 " He was not fighting for us, but for the Boers. " 
 
 "For the Boers!" 
 
 "Early in 1900," said the Professor, "the 
 French volunteer, General de Villebois-Mareuil^ 
 in command of the foreign legion, was killed at 
 Boshof. You heard of that, I presume?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Jeanne, breathlessly. 
 
 "I was present at his funeral. He was a 
 brave man. He was buried with military honours. 
 Some of his companions were killed, some wounded 
 and some taken prisoners. I helped to attend
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 221 
 
 a wounded prisoner, because I happened to 
 speak French fluently. His name was de Courset. 
 This conveyed nothing to me at the time, of 
 course, for I am not aware that I had ever heard 
 your name mentioned. " 
 
 She thought he cast a withering glance across 
 the table at Cecilia, who reddened slightly, but 
 was obliged to be silent ; for the Duke had turned 
 towards Mr. Hogg- Watson and was listening with 
 obvious interest to his recital. 
 
 "I remember," said the Professor, he looked 
 only at Jeanne's eyes "this poor fellow interested 
 me more than the others, by his courage, hero- 
 ism indeed, in bearing the pain that I " she 
 turned so white that he skilfully changed the 
 ending of the phrase " cut as short as possible 
 by placing him under anaesthetics. He was 
 devoted to his leader, in fact they all were. I 
 saw a little gold medal worn by poor de Villebois- 
 Mareuil inscribed ' to a great Frenchman from 
 the companions of his daughter.' De Courset 
 told me that his own daughter had been one of 
 these companions, and the friend of the poor 
 General's child. " 
 
 "Did he die?" said Jeanne, hardly above a 
 whisper. 
 
 "It was impossible to save him," said the 
 Professor. His gruff voice was quite kind. " He 
 was laid by the side of de Villebois-Mareuil, as 
 he wished, at Boshof. "
 
 222 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 " I must write and tell Louis, " said Jeanne. 
 "He will not lose a moment, when he comes 
 home, in following up such a clue. We will never 
 rest till we find our family. Did he tell you where 
 his daughter lived? or give you messages or 
 letters for her?" 
 
 "He confided everything of that kind to his 
 comrades, no doubt," said the Professor. "His 
 things were sent to Pretoria with the rest." 
 
 "Thank you very, very much for telling me 
 about it, Professor," said Jeanne. 
 
 She forgot her shyness, and awe of Cecilia's 
 husband, and spoke as earnestly and naturally as 
 though she had been addressing Louis himself; 
 or Cousin Denis, with whom she was quite at 
 her ease. 
 
 Mr. Hogg- Watson was by no means insensible 
 to the charm of simplicity; he thawed completely; 
 or perhaps the excellence of the dinner had 
 softened his mood. 
 
 "Where is this brother, may I ask?" 
 
 "In Somaliland. " Jeanne could hardly for- 
 bear a reproachful look towards her friend. Had 
 she not thought it worth while to mention to her 
 husband that Louis was now perhaps even at 
 this moment risking his life in the service of 
 his country? 
 
 The Professor looked grave. 
 
 " It is not a nice place. " 
 
 "He had only just arrived when he wrote.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 223 
 
 He was at Obbia; and he said it was not nearly 
 such a bad climate as he expected. Quite the 
 contrary," said Jeanne, anxiously. "He is used 
 to India, you know, and he has been all through 
 the South African War. This will be quite a 
 short expedition, Louis thinks." 
 
 "I hope you will get him home very soon," 
 said the Professor, and this time his voice sounded 
 more cheerful. 
 
 All the smiles and signs of Cecilia failed to 
 explain to Jeanne that the moment had now 
 come when a move must be made, and that it 
 was upon her that the duty of making it devolved. 
 
 Hewitt too stupid to whisper to his young 
 lady the hint that Mrs. Dunham, in his place, 
 would not have scrupled to bestow brought 
 in coffee, and they drank it; he handed round 
 cigarettes and cigars and still Jeanne sat quietly 
 on; until the tact of her watchful cousin was 
 again exerted on her behalf. 
 
 "Perhaps, Cousin Jeanne, you will give us 
 leave to smoke down here, when you and Mrs. 
 Hogg- Watson withdraw the light of your pres- 
 ence, " he said, smiling at her across the table. 
 
 "Oh yes, certainly," she cried in confusion; 
 and Cecilia, rising very thankfully, put her arm 
 through her friend's, and led her playfully out 
 of the room; the Duke politely opening the door, 
 and closing it behind them. 
 
 "My dear! Did n't you see me? I couldn't
 
 224 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 catch your eye. You should have bowed to me 
 long ago. But, however, it doesn't matter '' 
 cutting short Jeanne's distressed apologies for 
 her unwitting omission. " I was dying to get 
 away and talk to you. I am simply pining to 
 know what you think of Joseph. He was quite 
 gpris with you. But that is his way. You 
 mustn't think anything of it. He is always 
 taken with every fresh face he meets; and then 
 people think him charming! I only wish they 
 knew what he was like at home. I assure you 
 he was like a bear in the brougham. But I suppose 
 men are always like that with the women they 
 really care for," said Cecilia, with a sharp glance 
 at Jeanne's innocent face. 
 
 "He seemed very kind," was all poor Jeanne 
 could reply; for Cecilia's tones made her uncom- 
 fortable, though she could not tell why. 
 
 "As for your poor, little, lame Duke," said 
 Mrs. Hogg- Watson, condescendingly. "He is 
 a nice little thing. I quite liked him, though 
 he was rather heavy in hand. I remember all 
 about his family now. One way and another I 
 get to hear most people's history. I believe he 
 was mixed up in some Gaiety scandal; but I 
 may be confusing him with somebody else. Any- 
 way, I know he does n't get on with his mother. 
 I believe she quite hates the sight of him on 
 account of his club foot. " 
 
 "Oh, Cecilia, not really," cried Jeanne, without
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 225 
 
 pausing to consider whether this item were more 
 likely to be accurate than the rest of Cecilia's 
 intelligence. 
 
 "No wonder, when the others are such fine 
 athletic men," said Cecilia, tossing her head. 
 " I saw one of them play in a cricket match once. 
 That is why I enquired all about the family. 
 Lord Brian something was his name." 
 
 "But he was not born with a club foot," said 
 Jeanne, bethinking herself. "He fell down- 
 stairs in this very house, and injured his spine 
 when he was a little boy. And, Cecilia, I think 
 you must be mistaken, for nothing could be more 
 friendly than his mother's manner to him when 
 I saw them together. " 
 
 "Do you know the Duchess?" This time the 
 jealousy in Cecilia's voice was unmistakable. 
 
 "I can't say I know her, but I have been to 
 her house to an At Home; and she left a card 
 here, but 'she did not ask to come in," said 
 scrupulous Jeanne. 
 
 "Well, then of course you know her. I wish 
 you would get me an invitation to her house," 
 said Cecilia. "Bless me, Jeanne, if only I had 
 your opportunities I should be at the top of the 
 tree in no time, and know every one in London." 
 
 " I thought you had so many friends. " 
 
 "I said 'of a kind,'" said Cecilia, discontent- 
 edly. "And I have trouble enough to keep 
 even them together. I wasted a guinea on that
 
 226 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 announcement in the Morning Post, hoping it 
 would bring in a few invitations; and all that 
 came of it was a shoal of letters for Joseph, which 
 he won't let me so much as open. " 
 
 She looked enviously round the music -room, 
 into which Jeanne now conducted her. 
 
 "All these pictures must be worth a mint of 
 money. You will see, Joseph will go straight to 
 look at them the instant he comes up here, and 
 we shall get no more fun out of him at all. How- 
 ever, there will be the Duke for you and me to 
 talk to. It is a pity he is so young. Do you 
 see much of him, by the bye?" with an elaborate 
 carelessness of manner and that sharp side glance 
 of which Jeanne was becoming acutely conscious. 
 "Does he come often?" 
 
 "He has only been twice before," said Jeanne, 
 coldly. 
 
 She was vaguely offended by the meaning tone 
 which Cecilia adopted in speaking of her kind 
 cousin Denis. 
 
 Oh, why had she asked Cecilia here? Why 
 had she ever sought her out at all? Would it not 
 have been wiser, remembering her as an odious 
 little girl, to have shunned her altogether as a 
 woman ? 
 
 "Well, I warn you, I shall monopolise him 
 when he comes up-stairs, just as I did at dinner, " 
 said Cecilia, with an exasperating laugh. " If 
 he wants to talk to you, you know, he can very
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 227 
 
 easily outstay us. Joseph never stops up late 
 if he can possibly help it. " 
 
 The entrance of the Duke and Mr. Hogg- 
 Watson came as a relief; and his wife's prophecy 
 was fulfilled, for the Professor was immediately 
 absorbed in the Dutch landscapes. 
 
 Cousin Denis went straight to the piano, and 
 began to play, unasked. 
 
 He saw Jeanne's troubled brow, and his music 
 presently charmed the shadows from her down- 
 cast, pensive face; but he did not ask her to sing 
 to-night; he played quietly on and on. 
 
 Nevertheless he did not outstay Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hogg- Watson, but rose from the piano at half -past 
 ten, and bade Jeanne good night in a very kind 
 and gentle tone. 
 
 Mrs. Hogg- Watson, on the tapestry settee, 
 was yawning unrestrainedly. She cared neither 
 for pictures nor for music, and thought it very rude 
 of Jeanne to attend more earnestly to her cousin's 
 playing than to her friend's whispered confidences. 
 
 "Of course she is doing her best to catch him; 
 but I do not feel sure she will succeed, though 
 he is evidently a dreadful prig, " reflected Cecilia, 
 as she shook hands warmly with the Duke, and 
 begged him to call upon her. 
 
 "Thank you very much. You are exceedingly 
 kind," he said, and Jeanne learnt with surprise 
 that Cousin Denis could be frigid as well as 
 polite when he chose.
 
 228 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 When they had all gone, she sat alone in the 
 silent gallery, among the dead Marneys of Orsett, 
 the sombre Dutch pictures, and the modern 
 landscapes which filled the wintry night with 
 visions of summer skies, and woods and streams 
 and poppied fields and cried a little, softly, over 
 the failure of her dinner party. 
 
 "I think I never, never hated anything so 
 much," she thought, miserably. "What was 
 the good of my pretty frock, or the beautiful 
 dinner that kept Mrs. Pyke and the cook awake 
 all night planning it; or the trouble poor Hewitt 
 took to arrange the daffodils on the table, or 
 kind cousin Denis coming to help me, or any- 
 thing when Cecilia was so horrid. Oh, poor 
 Aunt Caroline, this just shows how very unfit I 
 am to entertain anybody in your beautiful house. 
 But it will all be quite different when Louis 
 comes home. "
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE DUKE 
 
 UNTIL he was nineteen or twenty years old 
 the Duke of Monaghan had lived the life of a 
 recluse ; less perhaps because his health had latterly 
 required such complete seclusion, than because 
 it was difficult to shake off the compulsory habits 
 of invalidism formed during the earlier years 
 of his boyhood. 
 
 The dukedom had descended upon his father 
 almost as unexpectedly as the fortune of Miss 
 Mamey upon Louis de Courset. The distant 
 cousin whom the late Duke had succeeded, 
 having a large family of daughters for whom 
 he was naturally desirous to make every pro- 
 vision in his power, left as little as he could help 
 to his heir-at-law; and consequently Denis was 
 in proportion to his rank, a poor man. 
 
 It had therefore been impressed upon him 
 from his earliest youth by his mother, that if he 
 married at all, he must marry money. 
 
 The Duke had smiled a melancholy smile at 
 the very notion of marriage; but he was fully 
 
 229
 
 2 3 o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 alive, nevertheless, to the embarrassment of his 
 poverty ; with a number of people dependent upon 
 him; a large landed estate which brought in 
 next to no profit, and a magnificent castle tum- 
 bling into ruins for want of the necessary repairs. 
 
 The Duchess had been a West-Country heiress, 
 and had a large fortune of her own; but she 
 spent her income royally; and as the capital 
 was tied up on her second son, Dermot, it would 
 not benefit the Duke, nor his impoverished Irish 
 estate. 
 
 She rented a house in Park Lane, spent the 
 autumn in Scotland, the winter in her home on 
 the borders of Devon and Somerset, and the spring 
 in the south of France. 
 
 But she never went to Ireland if she could help 
 it; and when her son visited Cuilmore, he was 
 obliged to visit it alone. 
 
 It was with extreme reluctance, and at the 
 insistance of his guardians, that the Duchess 
 permitted her invalid son, over whom she had 
 maintained complete control for twenty years, to 
 quit her maternal care and to go to Oxford; but 
 perhaps she had, as his guardians believed, over- 
 doctored the Duke, oppressed his spirits and 
 retarded his recovery by her constant and arbi- 
 trary supervision, for the remarkable improve- 
 ment which took place in his health undoubtedly 
 dated from the beginning of his college career. 
 
 His melancholy lessened; he began to find it
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 231 
 
 possible to be interested even in the sports he 
 could never hope to join; his natural abilities, 
 which were considerable, were called into play; 
 he perceived that it was open to him to distinguish 
 himself if he would among his fellows, in spite of 
 his lameness. 
 
 He had been educated, of course, entirely at 
 home; but his tutor had been a wise and learned 
 German ; a master of languages and a fine musician. 
 He had directed and formed the boy's taste for 
 reading, encouraged his love of music, and laid 
 the foundations upon which Denis presently based 
 the structure of a very creditable University 
 career. 
 
 Shaking the yoke of his mother's authority 
 off his long-suffering shoulders, the Duke spent 
 his vacations abroad; at first with his old tutor 
 in anxious attendance; but later, with younger 
 and more cheerful companions. 
 
 He found himself, to his astonishment, able to 
 live much as they lived, though his lameness 
 naturally precluded him from sharing their more 
 active exercises. 
 
 But he studied music with enthusiasm, and 
 became familiar with the art galleries of Europe. 
 
 When he left Oxford, he proceeded to visit 
 his neglected estates in Ireland; but here dis- 
 appointment and disillusion awaited him. 
 
 Nothing could be done without money, and of 
 money he had none, or next to none.
 
 232 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 As soon as the accumulations of his minority 
 were at his disposal, which was not, according 
 to his father's will, until he was five and twenty, 
 he did what he could, which was something, 
 and dreamed of doing more. The careless luxury 
 of the expenditure in Park Lane angered him 
 when he thought of the silent, deserted, and 
 almost ruined halls of his predecessors. 
 
 Concerning his feelings for his mother, Denis 
 dwelt upon them as little as possible. He was 
 not in sympathy with her, and she resented what 
 she believed to be his ingratitude. Probably it 
 was rather his independence that she resented. 
 Having grown accustomed to settle everything 
 for her eldest son, to have him always under her 
 own eye, and to consider him as helpless as an 
 infant, she did not relish his sudden emancipa- 
 tion, and found his restoration to health irksome 
 in fact, though in theory she was obliged to 
 rejoice. 
 
 Nevertheless she respected Denis; she knew 
 him to be steady and high-principled, as his 
 brothers were wild, careless, and extravagant; 
 and she wished him to marry, with all her heart. 
 
 She was becoming indeed somewhat feverishly 
 anxious upon the subject, and unlike the gen- 
 erality of mothers, was prepared to welcome almost 
 any young woman whom her son might select, 
 provided only that she had a fair fortune. 
 
 On this point the Duchess was firm.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 233 
 
 Though her own parentage was unexception- 
 able, (or perhaps because of this fact), she was 
 not painfully exclusive in principle. 
 
 She was not of those who are the bane of 
 the newly rich, and the successfully married, 
 unimpressed by present appearances, searching 
 for humble pasts preferably ignored, and crying 
 always. But who was she? 
 
 On the contrary the only question that vexed 
 her economic soul was, How much? 
 
 "Let her be respectable and not smart; let her 
 but have a dot sufficient to set them up in comfort, 
 and I care nothing who she may be," thought 
 the Duchess. 
 
 But it was her despair that the Duke did not 
 seem inclined to marry at all. 
 
 She had never been of a demonstrative nature, 
 and the petting and coaxing which had been 
 bestowed upon the crippled boy had come from 
 his attendants and not from his mother, whom 
 he had rather feared than loved. 
 
 His affection had been for his father, who, 
 passionately regretful of the misfortune which 
 had befallen his heir, had lavished upon him every 
 indulgence in his power. The Duke's death had 
 crushed the spirits of the little invalid, and 
 made him grave and melancholy beyond his 
 years. 
 
 But in proportion to the deprivations of his 
 boyhood, did the young man now enjoy the
 
 234 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 existence which to his brothers appeared so 
 devoid of amusement and excitement. 
 
 It was not considered prudent that he should 
 hunt, but he rode in moderation, and walked 
 as much as his lameness permitted, and the exer- 
 cise increased his strength; he lost the air of 
 almost ethereal delicacy which constant con- 
 finement had bestowed, and though he must 
 always be delicate, looked and was, perfectly 
 healthy and well. 
 
 His brothers loved him sincerely, but pitied 
 him more; for a man who could neither hunt, 
 play cricket, nor go deer-stalking must be always, 
 in their opinion, an object of pity. 
 
 From the sports and games that were, at this 
 period of their lives, the salt of their existence, 
 he was for ever debarred, and though they were 
 accustomed to his exclusion from their favourite 
 pursuits; they were sorry for him whenever they 
 remembered it. 
 
 They were rough, good-hearted young fellows, 
 with a strain of their mother's overbearing dis- 
 position in their natures which may have accounted 
 for their quarrels with their surviving parent, 
 and with each other. But with Denis they 
 never quarrelled, partly because of his own 
 gentleness, and partly because in their frequent 
 scrapes he always shielded and sympathised with 
 them. Since for so many years his spirit had 
 chafed under the knowledge of his own utter
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 235 
 
 helplessness and dependence, it afforded him, 
 indeed, especial satisfaction to be of use to them, 
 and to others; and he assumed his position as 
 head of the house with an almost pathetically 
 earnest determination to do his duty therein. 
 
 Thus rejoicing in his newly-acquired freedom, 
 he was divided between amusement and disgust, 
 when his mother, with tears in her eyes, recom- 
 mended to him one nice, kind, motherly, young 
 creature (with money) after another, as exactly 
 formed to take care of him, and watch over his 
 valuable health. 
 
 It was the helplessness, the timidity, the 
 childishness of little Jeanne, that had touched him, 
 during the ridiculous episode of her unauthorised 
 call upon one of the most conventional women 
 in London. 
 
 The young man's heart still leapt to recall the 
 look she had cast upon him the appeal for help 
 in her beautiful frightened brown eyes the glad 
 relief and gratitude of the little dimpling face, 
 when he had cast his shyness to the winds, and 
 come to her assistance the flush of joy when 
 he boldly claimed kinship, and the right to show, 
 in some measure, the sympathy and interest with 
 which his heart was filled at the mere touch of 
 the magic wand of first love. 
 
 For though he was five and twenty years old, 
 and had loved innumerable heroines of history 
 and fiction and imagination, and even a few
 
 236 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 never-to-be-forgotten but personally nearly un- 
 known goddesses in real life; yet Denis knew, 
 almost the instant that he set eyes upon Jeanne, 
 that here was his first and last and only love. 
 
 Having looked upon himself, pensively, for 
 some years past, as one wedded to his art alone, 
 he was the more taken aback by the strength and 
 suddenness of his passion ; and inclined to ridicule 
 himself for the discovery that the conditions of 
 a man's life even though he may have spent an 
 invalid boyhood are not necessarily fixed and 
 unchangeable at the age of twenty-five; but 
 every day his love took a stronger hold of him. 
 in defiance of ridicule or bewilderment. 
 
 He thought of his brothers, who had been in 
 and out of half-a-dozen love affairs already, quite 
 unknown to the Duchess, and who remained 
 apparently perfectly cheerful and heart-whole 
 in spite of these experiences. 
 
 He thought of his poverty, of his mother's 
 certain indignation, (for, though her brother 
 might be rich, Jeanne herself, so far as he knew, 
 had not a penny in the world) of the absolute 
 necessity of his marrying money if he married 
 at all of the wisdom of remaining as he was, 
 and allowing his wealthy brother Dermot to 
 succeed him; and the upshot of all his reflections 
 was, after nearly a week's indecision that he 
 determined to remain in London for the present 
 instead of returning to Ireland, and to call at
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 237 
 
 99 Grosvenor Square again, upon the very first 
 opportunity that should present itself. 
 
 During this week, time, hung less heavily than 
 usual upon Jeanne's hands; for she had found 
 an occupation. 
 
 She worked at her French for a couple of hours 
 every morning under the guidance of the old 
 professor sent to her by the Duke of Monaghan, 
 and in the afternoon prepared diligently long 
 exercises for his inspection on the morrow. 
 
 So delighted was she with her own progress 
 that she even began to indulge in dreams of a 
 translation of Cyrano de Bergerac, as a tri- 
 umphant surprise wherewith to greet her brother 
 on his return; but at present she contented 
 herself with choosing his favourite work for the 
 daily reading which was to improve her accent 
 and extend her acquaintance with the language. 
 
 At the end of the week, Cecilia appeared; very 
 smartly dressed in scarlet cloth and white fox, 
 a combination eminently becoming to her fair 
 skin and golden hair, though qualified to render 
 the stoutness of her figure yet more conspicuous. 
 
 "Well, you dear thing, you have never asked 
 me to drive, as you promised, so I have come to 
 look you up. What do you think? Joseph has 
 been telegraphed for to Berlin, and has gone off 
 at a moment's notice. I cannot make up my 
 mind whether to follow him or not. "
 
 238 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 " Has he gone for a long time?" 
 
 "That is just it. That is my dilemma. He 
 was in one of his moods when he went away and 
 would not give me an idea how long he was 
 likely to be. If I pack up and follow him, he may 
 be starting home just as I arrive; and I should 
 have the journey for nothing; he played that 
 trick on me once before ; and if I put off going, 
 why, he may stay on and on, and I be missing 
 all sorts of functions to which they would be 
 obligated to invite me if I were with him. What 
 would you advise?" 
 
 "I should do what he wished, of course," said 
 Jeanne, bluntly. 
 
 " It is all very well for you to say that, but a 
 married woman knows very well that it does a 
 man no good to spoil him ; he would not thank her 
 if she did," said Cecilia peevishly. "Wait till 
 you have a husband of your own, my dear. A 
 propos, have you seen anything of our little 
 friend, the Duke?" 
 
 Jeanne coloured rather angrily at the tone 
 in which Cecilia pronounced these words; but a 
 certain embarrassment made her glad to be able 
 to answer she had not seen her cousin since the 
 night of the little dinner. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that after dining here, 
 he has not called!" said Cecilia with exaggerated 
 surprise. " How very rude. " 
 
 " I do not see that it is rude. "
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 239 
 
 "My dear! you own yourself that you are 
 quite unacquainted with les convenances," said 
 Cecilia, with dignity. " It is usual to leave 
 cards, at least, after dining. " 
 
 " But you and the Professor have not left cards, " 
 cried Jeanne. 
 
 Cecilia recollected herself in some confusion. 
 
 "That is quite different. I have known you 
 all your life. One does not stand on ceremony 
 with old friends, you know. " 
 
 "Perhaps relations do not stand on ceremony 
 either. " 
 
 "My dear! He is the most distant cousin in 
 the world. I have been looking him up; and it 
 was three generations ago that one of them 
 married a Marney of Orsett." 
 
 "I had not meant to boast of it," said Jeanne, 
 colouring. " I know it is very distant. " 
 
 "Oh, you need not apologise," said Cecilia, 
 more good-naturedly. "If I were related to a 
 Duke, however distantly, I should take just as 
 much care it was known as you do yourself. And 
 you have more reason to care about it than I 
 having relations at what one might call the other 
 end of the social scale." In this delicate manner 
 Cecilia strove to remind Jeanne of the existence 
 of her uncle Roberts the farmer. " Yes, I looked 
 the Duke up, and I was surprised to find how 
 old he was. He is six and twenty. I took him 
 for the merest boy. I suppose we fair-haired
 
 240 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 folk have a knack of looking younger than we 
 really are." 
 
 Jeanne endeavoured to turn the conversation 
 by admiring Cecilia's dress, which indeed was 
 of a very striking and elegant cut. 
 
 "It is not a bad little frock," said Mrs. Hogg- 
 Watson, as carelessly as though she had been all 
 her life accustomed to wearing two thousand- 
 franc gowns from the Maison Doucet, "one 
 must be tidy for London, you know. Otherwise 
 I never worry about my clothes, though I am 
 so particular about the children's. " 
 
 " I hope the children are well?" 
 
 " Oh, they are always well or if they are not, 
 they have the best of nurses to look after them. 
 What have you here? Exercises! Books! You 
 sly thing ; you are studying to fit yourself for any- 
 thing that may turn up! Well, this is foresight 
 indeed!" 
 
 " I am improving my French, to please Louis. " 
 
 "To please Louis indeed! Seriously Jeanne, 
 you might be a little more open with such an old 
 friend; but however, I will not press you. I am 
 the last person to force a confidence. Only I 
 know the world better than you do, perhaps I 
 ought to utter a word of warning. His brother, 
 Lord Dermot Liscarney, has the reputation of 
 being a dreadful flirt, and I have no doubt this 
 young man is just the same. Don't make too 
 sure. Even though of course your position is
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 241 
 
 very different from what it used to be, (for I 
 suppose Louis could hardly refuse to make some 
 kind of a settlement upon you, so devoted as you 
 have always been), still a Duke is a Duke, and 
 not very likely to marry out of his own sphere. " 
 
 After an ineffectual effort to persuade her 
 friend to accompany her on a shopping expedition, 
 Mrs. Hogg-Watson at length took her leave, 
 without waiting for tea; and Jeanne felt, as the 
 door closed behind her, that there were, after all, 
 worse things than solitude in this world. 
 
 She had scarcely recovered her equanimity 
 when the Duke walked into the room. 
 
 An hour ago she would have welcomed him 
 with unaffected joy; but now her greeting was so 
 constrained that he could not but observe the 
 alteration in her manner. 
 
 "Something has been vexing you, Cousin 
 > Jeanne," he said, in his peculiarly gentle tones. 
 "May I know what it is? You have no bad 
 news, I hope?" 
 
 Jeanne shook her head. 
 
 " No, I have no news at all. In my last letter 
 he had just left Obbia ; so he must now, as he said, 
 be marching towards me." She hesitated a 
 moment, and then said, "Cecilia has just been 
 here." 
 
 "Oh!" said the Duke, so expressively that 
 Jeanne smiled, feeling more at ease. 
 
 "You do not like her?" 
 
 16
 
 242 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "I can believe that a prolonged tete h tdte 
 with her might be rather trying," said the 
 Duke, who was too polite to own that he disliked 
 any one, far less a lady whom he had met under 
 Jeanne's own auspices. 
 
 "She says such things" faltered Jeanne, petu- 
 lantly. 
 
 "Then do not let your mind dwell on the 
 things she says," he said, rather hurriedly. 
 "Some people say impossible things. It is a 
 kind of habit, and the only way to avoid being 
 ruffled is to think of something else. How do 
 you like my old professor?" 
 
 "He is the kindest old man in the world," 
 she said, and Denis smiled to see how easily her 
 thoughts were diverted from her vexation. " And 
 do you know he has promised to write to a friend 
 of his, who used to live in Paris (but he is not 
 quite sure if he is still alive) and make enquiries 
 for me about the poor de Courset who was killed 
 in the South African War?" 
 
 "But it does not sound very hopeful," said 
 the Duke, unable to help smiling again. " I know 
 his ways, poor fellow; he would be quite satisfied 
 to wait a year or two for an answer from the 
 possibly deceased friend! There are quicker 
 methods of research than his. If you would 
 care to employ them I will help you w r ith all my 
 heart. " 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Cousin Denis. I do long to
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 243 
 
 find out. Would not it be delightful if Louis and 
 I discovered some near relations of our own? I 
 have always wished to belong to a family and it 
 would make our French descent seem so much 
 more real. Louis used to plan that directly he 
 could afford it, he and I were going to France, to 
 look for the Chateau de Courset, and to try and 
 find our relatives." 
 
 "Then might he not be a little disappointed 
 to find we had forestalled him? Since he is 
 coming home so soon?" 
 
 "I never thought of that," said Jeanne. "To 
 be sure he would. For Louis likes to do things 
 himself. And we could start off together if I 
 waited till he came home. " 
 
 "Then perhaps it would be wiser to leave the 
 enquiries in the Professor's hands for the present 
 where I believe they will be quite safe, and per- 
 fectly stationary." 
 
 "I think it would," she was obliged to own, 
 "and at least, if I go on with my French, I shall 
 be able to talk to my family when I do find them, 
 which I certainly could not do at present! You 
 do not despise us for having French blood, do 
 you?" 
 
 "I have no insular prejudices, I hope," said 
 the Duke, laughing. 
 
 "I cannot understand any one's not being 
 proud of the people who belong to them," said 
 Jeanne. "Of course it is more romantic
 
 244 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 if they are also a noble race, " she said flushing 
 proudly. "Is it snobbish to say so?" 
 
 "No, indeed," he said simply, "it is to me 
 quite absurd to confound snobbishness with pride 
 of race. To be glad you are born of men and 
 women who have for generations been distin- 
 guished for gallantry, cultivation, fine persons, 
 or that gentillesse which is the only true gentility 
 is mere common-sense. You could no more 
 despise such a pedigree than a racing man despises 
 the pedigree of a horse. Snobbishness, to my 
 mind, consists in bearing oneself with more con- 
 sideration towards one class of person than 
 towards another; whereas the well-bred man 
 would be equally courteous and well-behaved 
 to all." 
 
 She listened very earnestly. 
 
 "Yes. Do you know, Cousin Denis, you 
 talk a little like Louis, only more more de- 
 liberately. Louis hurries out his words like a 
 torrent. But your ideas are very like his. " 
 
 "I do not profess to have originated them. 
 They were the merest platitudes," he said, with 
 that look of affectionate raillery she had learnt 
 to associate with his gentle, semi-ironical tones. 
 
 " But it makes it plain, " said Jeanne, proudly, 
 "that the truly noble man could not be ashamed 
 of the people who belonged to him, because they 
 were" with a sudden reminiscence of Cecilia 
 "at the other end of the social scale. In a way
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 245 
 
 I am as proud of Uncle Roberts because he is 
 so absolutely upright and independent, and be- 
 cause I know he would not do a wrong thing 
 knowingly, or stoop to flatter anybody to save 
 his life as I am of any of my brave French 
 ancestors, though he is a rough and homely man. " 
 
 "So you should be," he said, with instant 
 and warm approval. 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Denis, I remember a little girl who 
 went to school with me in the village at Pen-y- 
 waun; she was very clever, and won scholarships 
 and became a teacher, and we heard that she 
 passed her own father, who was a labourer, in the 
 streets of Tref-goch and would not recognise him. 
 She was ashamed of him! I cried when I heard 
 it, but I was younger then and cried very easily, 
 I suppose. It seemed so dreadful." 
 
 "Yes, it was dreadful; and still more dreadful 
 to think of that girl being a teacher; simply 
 because she had passed a certain examination, 
 and at an age when the realities of life are mere 
 words, and experience and wisdom almost nil, " 
 said Denis, rather sadly, " I have wondered some- 
 times why poor ladies do not turn their attention 
 to village schools. It would surely be a happier 
 life than governessing, or companioning cross 
 old women, and living in other people's houses. " 
 
 " The schoolmistress at Pen-y-waun gets eighty 
 pounds a year, "'said Jeanne, "she could rent 
 a cottage and garden for four or five pounds i
 
 246 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 and would have the dearest little home in the 
 prettiest country in the world. " 
 
 "I suppose she could live on that," said the 
 Duke, who was not a practical housekeeper. 
 
 Jeanne, who was, opened her eyes in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " If she could n't live on thirty shillings a week, 
 and put by " she said, indignantly, "she would 
 be a very helpless creature, Cousin Denis, don't 
 you think?" 
 
 "I am rather ignorant of such details," he 
 confessed, "but only too eager to learn. And 
 I was thinking principally of the children. They 
 are so easily influenced at that age, and would 
 learn so quickly to distinguish between being 
 genteel and gentle; and thus discover the piteous 
 vulgarity of pretence, which is the terrible stum- 
 bling-block in this country." 
 
 "The only thing is, " said Jeanne, thoughtfully, 
 "whether a lady would not be too finicking to 
 care to do for herself?" 
 
 He fathomed her meaning with an effort. 
 
 " If she were fine, " he said, rather disdainfully, 
 "she would not belong to the class from which 
 I would have her taken. Fineness is the charac- 
 teristic of the middle classes. The upper and 
 lower are, naturally, destitute of it, and that is 
 is why they usually sympathise when they meet. " 
 
 "Yes, I see what you mean a queen can sit 
 and talk to an old peasant woman quite simply,
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 247 
 
 and without affectation but that is because 
 each knows her place in the world, and has no 
 occasion for pretence, whereas " 
 
 "The burgomaster's wife would make the 
 peasant and the Queen, feel very uncomfort- 
 able, " he said, laughing. 
 
 " I do not know what a burgomaster's wife is!" 
 
 "Well the mayor's lady." 
 
 "The butcher's wife at Tref-goch is the worst, " 
 said Jeanne, gravely. She had a door knocked 
 out in the back wall, because she would not be 
 seen coming out of her own shop." 
 
 They had tea together in the twilight, for the 
 days were now beginning to lengthen; and after 
 tea, the Duke played to Jeanne; and she sat by 
 the fire, and dreamt of Louis, and of the changes 
 that his return must ensure. 
 
 Would not he leave the army now that he 
 was so rich? He must surely have done his 
 share of soldiering. But she had not dared to 
 suggest this course to him in her letters. 
 
 Perhaps he would buy back, if it were possible, 
 the old French property in the Boulonnais, as 
 they had talked of doing, long ago, in their childish 
 plans together. 
 
 Perhaps for Mr. Valentine had hinted that this, 
 too, lay within the power of the great fortune Miss 
 Marneyhad bequeathed to Louis he would rebuild 
 Orsett, and settle down in the West Country.
 
 248 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Would he be very much altered? His letters 
 did not seem to suggest it, though she was con- 
 scious of more reserve in them than formerly. 
 He spoke less of himself and his wishes and his 
 plans for the future, and more of his work. 
 
 She thought and thought of Louis, but of 
 her cousin Denis, playing softly in the firelight, 
 on poor Miss Marney's new piano, beneath her 
 old gilt harp she scarcely thought at all. 
 
 His perfect self-possession and friendliness 
 had banished altogether the embarrassment which 
 Cecilia's insinuations had provoked. 
 
 She rested contentedly in his presence, and 
 enjoyed his companionship, with all the gratitude 
 that the remembrance of her loneliness before 
 his advent, could inspire. 
 
 He longed, yet feared, to disturb this happy 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 "It is too soon," thought the Duke; but he 
 too, was dreaming of happiness to come, as he 
 played on and on, in the warm, spring-scented 
 room; and watched the pointed shadows cast 
 by her downcast black lashes upon Jeanne's 
 face, which glowed in the clear red light of the 
 dying fire.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE BUSH DESERT 
 
 " But my heart will still be with you 
 Wherever you may go, 
 Can you look me in the face 
 And say the same, Jeannot?" 
 
 " Rakhan. . . . marched twenty-eight miles on 
 Tuesday and forty -two on Wednesday, horses 
 twenty-four hours without water. . . wrote 
 Louis in a letter which Jeanne received at the 
 end of March, and which had been scribbled in 
 blue pencil on pages of his pocket-book torn 
 out, and enclosed in a 'soldier's and seaman's' 
 envelope. 
 
 " . . . . We got off the track once, and were 
 faced pretty suddenly with the real meaning of water- 
 less desert; when a few hours may put an end to 
 a whole party, big or small. . . . pretty well cooked 
 when we arrived, but somebody luckily had a flask 
 of brandy which was mixed with some stinking 
 water and devoured, and we slept as we could in a 
 hastily constructed zareba. . . This is a burning 
 rocky bush desert. . . . when we are all collected 
 I expect some of us will be sent to Berber a; about a 
 
 249
 
 2 5 o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 hundred and twenty miles through dense bush, and 
 it is believed no water. But think of me slowly, 
 slowly trekking towards you, and when I get home, 
 my Jeannie dear, meet me, oh meet me with a brim- 
 ming bucket of fresh sparkling ice-cold water from 
 the mountain stream at Coed-Ithel; for here it is 
 sometimes green and sometimes grey, but always 
 loathsome to taste and smell. I am very well, my 
 darling little Jeannette, and only just miss enjoying 
 myself; but of course it 's rather a bore to be always 
 fighting the water-trouble instead of the Mullah. . . 
 ". . . Moved our pitch yesterday. The camping 
 ground is a stony glaring treeless place, and the 
 heat by day is very great. The ground gets red-hot. 
 The wall of our zareba is made of cut thorn bush, 
 and branches laced with barbed wire. I have a 
 jolly little day shelter here of camel mats, but at 
 night it is preferable to be in the open, and enjoy 
 all the cool air one can get. . . . I am of course, 
 glad to have had this little experience and, to have 
 seen something of a new country; but I cannot 
 help doubting whether God ever made a more 
 uninteresting spot, or one less designed for human 
 habitation. " 
 
 A later letter, in a worn little blue cover 
 that told its own tale, and which bore the inscrip- 
 tion " On active service, Somaliland, no stamps 
 available," arrived by the same post, and was 
 dated from Galkayu.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 251 
 
 ". . . / awoke in the cool and dusty night, (we 
 have lately been afflicted with dust-storms) and 
 heard a little commotion of some one arriving in the 
 zareba. In the light of the full moon I saw a few 
 people moving about, which was unusual at 1.30 
 a.m. Then heard a voice announce the arrival of 
 five mailbags. I awoke again at 5 with the feelings 
 of a child on Christmas morning, wondering what 
 would be in my stocking. Do people at home half 
 realise, I wonder, the desperate eagerness with which 
 one waits and hopes for letters? You do at any 
 rate, and how I bless you, my Jeannie, for so faith- 
 fully writing. 
 
 " / got your letters forwarded from South Africa, 
 and three later ones, all together. Why on earth 
 should you trouble your dear anxious head over the 
 preachments of ancient servants? There can be no 
 possible reason why this poor lame Duke of Mona- 
 ghan, whom you describe so pathetically, (or any 
 other man with whom you are acquainted by this 
 time] should not call upon you, now that you have 
 a house to receive them in. I knew his brother at 
 Sandhurst, Lord Dermot Liscarney, one of the best 
 fellows I ever met, and a first- class bat; and I saw 
 a good deal of him in South Africa, one way and 
 another also. In fact we were rather specially 
 friendly; but I had no idea we were in any way re- 
 lated. I 've sent him a line to-day, for he wrote 
 me an awfully nice letter when he heard I was 
 coming here, which I 'm ashamed to say I never
 
 2 52 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 answered. It was very nice of the old Duchess to 
 have asked you to her party; don't let all this mag- 
 nificence turn my little Jeanne into a fine lady, or 
 I shan't know her when I do see her. . . . I some- 
 times get into rather a rotten mood, as everybody in 
 these circumstances must now and then, and feel 
 I' d chuck this old show and every hope of promo- 
 tion I 've got in the world, for a single glimpse of 
 those I love best. ..." 
 
 Jeanne was jealous for a moment that Louis 
 could thus speak in the plural, and mention, as 
 it were, his love for her in the same breath as his 
 affection for Uncle Roberts and Granny Morgan, 
 and his countless school and army friends. "It 
 is something quite different apart from all the 
 rest, and above it, " she reflected, with a sigh that 
 Louis should even seem to see this less clearly 
 than she did. 
 
 "/ 've had a very nice letter from old Valentine. 
 He seems to tumble to my notions about saving 
 you all the trouble he can, and supplying you and 
 me with more oof than we could possibly spend. 
 Not that money is of any use to me here. Heavens! 
 what untold gold one would gladly exchange for 
 a bottle of Bass, or a single tumbler of fresh ice- 
 cold but I will not hark back to the water question, 
 of which you must be heartily sick. ... To return 
 to our family lawyer! Vast sums, in excess of my
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 253 
 
 wildest hopes, have been placed to my credit at Cox's 
 by this kind accommodating old boy; who has fur- 
 ther taken charge of all papers, etc., of mine, de- 
 posited there, in accordance with my directions; so 
 now, in any emergency, my Jeannie, you have some 
 one to turn to. ... / gather from your letters 
 that you are a little disappointed at the comparative 
 calm with which I appeared to receive the astounding 
 the overwhelming news of our great-aunt's munifi- 
 cence; but it was next to impossible to convey my 
 breathlessness in my letters, and I have likewise 
 been a pauper so long that I am perfectly unable to 
 realise the change. Only wait till I get home, and 
 am able to prove to myself that it is real, by handing 
 over your share to your own safe-keeping, and 
 playing ducks and drakes with the rest! No, no, 
 I have grown older and wiser, and you shall not 
 have to reproach me any more for unjustifiable ex- 
 travagance. Still it must be great agony to you, my 
 poor careful Jeanne, to reflect what a lot of money 
 the upkeep of your fine house must cost; and if you 
 don 't have a good time in it, I 'II never forgive you! 
 Seriously, the relief to me is so great and would 
 have been with a hundredth part of what our kind 
 relative has showered upon us that I catch myself 
 laughing hilariously whenever I remember what 
 has befallen. . . . 
 
 "... Yesterday one of the men gave me an 
 ostrich's egg, such a delicious change! I made 
 an omelette and seven of us ate heartily of it; about
 
 254 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 equal to twenty hen's eggs. The men find a good 
 many patrolling. I rather hope to shoot a good 
 ostrich or two myself, though what I could do with 
 the plumes unless we made panaches of them, I 
 don't know! Still then I might cry with dear 
 Cyrano whom you won't read that there is one 
 thing I will present 
 
 ' sans une tache . . ~ 
 Quand j'entrerai chez Dieu . . . 
 . . . c'est mon panache! ' 
 
 . . . God bless you, for ever, my darling sister. 
 The photo of your dear little round face rests ever 
 in my haver sac / must go to work. ..." 
 
 Jeanne wrote long, long letters in answer to 
 these, though she prayed that her brother might 
 be on the way home before they could reach him. 
 
 She made every preparation she could think 
 of, for his return; but beyond working almost 
 feverishly at her French studies, and the arrange- 
 ment of his room, there was not much for her to do. 
 
 Mrs. Dunham now began to refer very fre- 
 quently to the Captain, as she preferred to call 
 Louis, talking of him as though she had known 
 him all her life. 
 
 "There '11 be a deal to settle when the Captain 
 comes home, ma'am. He '11 have to decide 
 whether to keep on us old servants or not. " 
 
 "Oh Mrs. Dunham, you little know him, if
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 255 
 
 you could suppose he would turn you out of the 
 house you have served so long and so faithfully. " 
 
 "Yes'm, " said Dunham briefly, accepting 
 Jeanne's consolation as well-meant, but inade- 
 quate. "But it 's not so much the gentleman 
 these things depend on, as the lady. " 
 
 " But I should be very sorry if you went, Mrs. 
 Dunham," 
 
 "It 's not you, ma'am, as I 'm alluding to," 
 said Dunham, rather pityingly, "but the Cap- 
 tain's lady; you must look to see him get married 
 when he comes home to settle down. " 
 
 "Not just yet, I hope," Jeanne's smile was a 
 very faint one. " I have not seen him for five 
 years, Mrs. Dunham. I could not spare him to a 
 wife just yet." 
 
 "No, ma'am, mothers and sisters generally 
 feels that way. My own brother married as 
 poor a creature as never was though dead and 
 gone these twenty years, poor thing, and him too. 
 But a young gentleman like the Captain, ma'am, 
 and so handsome and all, does n't get left long, 
 Miss Jane, as a rule. " 
 
 " I suppose not, " said Jeanne, with a sigh. 
 
 " If you'd seen an old family die out as I have, 
 Miss Jeanne, you 'd welcome the day," said Dun- 
 ham, solemnly. "Never a word would you hear 
 no more against marriage or its consequences." 
 
 She was too discreet to breathe a word con- 
 cerning Jeanne's own prospects; but the whole
 
 256 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 household was now agreed that the Duke was 
 coming a wooing, for he visited 99 Grosvenor 
 Square as punctually as the man who came to 
 wind up the clocks. 
 
 It was Dunham who suggested to Jeanne, 
 (who would not have dared to originate such a 
 proposal) that she might with propriety relax 
 the outward signs of mourning for her great-aunt, 
 now that three months had elapsed since her 
 demise; and appear in white, or violet, according 
 to her taste. 
 
 The love of romance which lurks in almost 
 every spinster's bosom, dictated this suggestion 
 of Dunham's, rather than any forgetfulness of 
 her beloved mistress. 
 
 As Hewitt busied himself (more reckless of 
 cost than ever) in rendering the morning-room 
 a perfect bower of spring blossom, that the back- 
 ground of courtship might not be wanting, so 
 did the old woman lie awake at night plotting 
 and planning white muslins, mauve chiffons, and 
 violet velvet ; as suitable at once to maiden mod- 
 esty and ducal dignity. 
 
 "He is only waiting for her brother to come 
 home," she thought; and the whole household 
 was of the same mind. 
 
 The irreproachable character of the suitor 
 the poverty of his exchequer the wildness of 
 his brothers all these facts were perfectly well- 
 known to the aged and unsuspected guardians
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 257 
 
 of the lonely lady's interests; and she was at a 
 loss to account for the daily increasing deference 
 with which she was now treated. 
 
 Few of the family secrets of the great are 
 unknown to gentlemen of Hewitt's profession; 
 and his friend and crony, the solemn major-domo 
 of the Duchess's house in Park Lane, was as well 
 aware as Hewitt himself how often his Grace 
 went to tea at No. 99 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 But that his Grace was loved, and his Grace's 
 mother very heartily disliked, by her household, 
 the news would assuredly, through her maid, 
 have come to the august ears of the Duchess. 
 But as it was, there was not a scullion in the 
 ducal establishment who would have thwarted 
 the Duke's pleasure to please his mamma; and 
 Denis pursued his tranquil way without a suspicion 
 of the interest with which his comings and goings 
 were regarded. 
 
 He met Jeanne walking in the Park, on a 
 sunny afternoon in early April, as he was passing 
 Grosvenor Gate, and wondering whether it were 
 too soon to call upon her again. 
 
 For the first time, he turned and walked with 
 her. 
 
 Dunham fell behind respectfully, devoting 
 her attention to the breathless waddling York- 
 shire terrier; and congratulating herself that 
 her young lady was wearing her new white gown. 
 
 13
 
 258 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne's dress was simple enough, but the 
 Duke had never seen her hitherto, in anything 
 approaching fashionable attire; and much as he 
 had appreciated her simplicity, the fact that 
 a pretty woman is prettier when she is well dressed, 
 came home to him rather forcibly. 
 
 The white cloth gown fitted her full slender 
 figure closely, and she wore violets at her pretty 
 white throat and in her shady black hat. 
 
 "I am very glad to meet you, Cousin Denis, 
 for I have had a letter from the Duchess, and I 
 want to ask you about it. " 
 
 Now the Duchess was down at Challon sleigh, 
 at this moment, and Denis was keeping house 
 in Park Lane by himself, so that this intelligence 
 startled him very much. 
 
 Jeanne explained. 
 
 "It is a very kind letter; asking me to go and 
 stay with her for Easter; and I think it must be 
 because Louis knew your brother, Lord Dermot 
 Liscarney, at Sandhurst, for Louis said in his 
 last letter that he had written to him. Do you 
 think I ought to go?" 
 
 She wondered why he was so slow to answer. 
 
 He was looking away from her when his reply 
 came, in words even more carefully measured 
 than usual. 
 
 "There can be no possible reason why you 
 should not go. " 
 
 "But shall you be there?" she asked wistfully.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 259 
 
 " I should be afraid to go if you were not there. 
 Even with you to help me I am afraid I might 
 make many mistakes and do ridiculous things 
 without meaning to. " 
 
 The Duke's face cleared, and he spoke with 
 more boyish heartiness than was his wont. 
 
 "Of course I shall be there; and you could not 
 be ridiculous if you tried. " 
 
 " But ought n't I just to explain to the Duchess 
 that I was brought up in a farmhouse, so that 
 she should know what to expect, " said scrupulous 
 Jeanne. "After all, I have never stayed any- 
 where in my life, except in Pen-y-waun Rectory 
 when it was too wet to go backwards and forwards 
 to Coed-Ithel. And I know that that would not 
 be at all the same kind of life. " 
 
 "You can tell her when you get there, if you 
 like, and if the opportunity arises. But there is 
 not the slightest necessity for doing so. And I 
 should say nothing about it in my letter; and 
 simply write an ordinary note of acceptance." 
 
 " But I don't know even how to write an ordin- 
 ary note of acceptance. I thought you would 
 help me," she said ingenuously. 
 
 He looked at his watch. 
 
 "Then we ought to go and do it at once, if 
 we are to catch the country post." 
 
 They walked slowly down Upper Grosvenor 
 Street, Jeanne considerately moderating her pace 
 to suit the halting footsteps of her companion.
 
 2 6o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Dunham followed them solemnly a model of 
 discreet chaperonage, keeping close to her young 
 lady's heels, and faithfully leading Miss Marney's 
 little dog. 
 
 The invitation had come about in the simplest 
 manner, through the letter which Louis had 
 written to Lord Dermot, and exactly as Jeanne 
 had surmised. 
 
 Dermot was his mother's favourite son, and 
 his lightest suggestions met with more attention 
 than his elder brother's ceremonious requests. 
 
 Thus, although the Duchess had demurred 
 when Denis had asked her to leave a card at 99 
 Grosvenor Square, on a young lady whom he 
 declared to be a relative; and made a favour of 
 promising eventually to do as he wished in the 
 matter she yet despatched an Easter invita- 
 tion to Jeanne, without raising any difficulties 
 at all, on receiving her son Dermot's laconic 
 explanation. 
 
 "I 've heard from a pal of mine an awfully 
 decent fellow name de Courset. It appears 
 he 's a connection of ours. His sister came to 
 one of Monaghan's musical shows, he says, I 
 suppose you know her?" 
 
 "I 'm afraid I don't remember her, my dear 
 boy," said the Duchess, shaking her head, "you 
 know what shoals of people Denis makes me ask 
 to his concerts." 
 
 "Well she lives in Grosvenor Square his ship
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 261 
 
 appears to have come in an old aunt has left him 
 all her money I believe he has nobody but this 
 one sister belonging to him. " 
 
 "Grosvenor Square," said the Duchess, "oh, 
 then I do remember; for it was at our own old 
 house that Denis insisted on my leaving a card. 
 Yes. He met her at the Whelers, and found 
 out she was connected somehow. " 
 
 The whole incident of Jeanne's call upon Mrs. 
 Wheler, or as much of it as she had witnessed, 
 together with the subsequent introduction of 
 Jeanne to herself, had long ago vanished from 
 the mind of the Duchess. 
 
 " Well, I wish you 'd ask her down to Challon- 
 sleigh, mother. It would save my having to go 
 and call. I Ve no use for calls. And I know 
 the poor chap would like it. He 's one of the 
 most decent fellows I ever met," said Dermot, 
 repeating the highest terms of praise his vocabu- 
 lary contained. "One of my very best pals. 
 I 'd no idea he was a cousin. " 
 
 "Cousin, nonsense," said the Duchess, "I 
 suppose they are related to old Miss Mamey who 
 bought the house from us. She was a distant 
 cousin, I believe. A most disagreeable woman, 
 very stuck up but enormously rich. I only 
 met her once and I took a dislike to her instantly. 
 Your poor father wanted me to go and see her, 
 I remember, but nothing would have induced 
 me to set foot in the house again at that time.
 
 262 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 I got it into my head it was an unlucky house; 
 everything went wrong in it. The old Duke 
 left every penny he could away from your father ; 
 you nearly died of the measles ; and it all culmin- 
 ated in your brother's accident. " 
 
 "I ain't superstitious, except perhaps, about 
 racing," said Dermot. 
 
 " If Miss Marney left this young man her money 
 as well as the house " said the Duchess, pursuing 
 another train of thought, "he must be uncom- 
 monly wealthy. " 
 
 "I daresay," said Dermot. 
 
 "And he has only this one sister?" 
 
 "So he says. She must be pretty sick over 
 this Somaliland business. It looks rotten. I 
 hope he'll get safe through, poor chap," said 
 Dermot. " I 'm afraid it 's not much of a picnic, 
 though, by all accounts. " 
 
 " Is he out there?" said the Duchess. " I '11 ask 
 her down for Easter. What did you say was 
 her name?"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 THE DUCHESS 
 
 THE afternoon sunshine brightened the dead 
 moor, and the golden gorse blazed against a deep 
 blue April sky and scudding, dazzling, white clouds. 
 
 The hedge-rows were putting forth young 
 leaves, and the baby oaks hardly yet uncrum- 
 pling faint yellow foliage, above the clumps of 
 primroses and the patches of blue violets which 
 here and there lightened the dry banks. 
 
 The ducal carriage skirted the open moorland 
 on the one side, and the tall hedge-row on the 
 other, and Jeanne seated alone within it, drank 
 the fresh delicious air through the open window. 
 
 Dunham followed decorously in a fly with the 
 luggage. 
 
 She had smiled outright, for the first time 
 since her lady's death, when Jeanne had com- 
 municated to her the fact of the invitation. A 
 small, difficult, sour smile, but still a smile of secret 
 pleasure and triumph, though her immediate 
 comment had sounded to Jeanne extremely 
 irrelevant. 
 
 263
 
 264 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 " I daresay William will take care of the little 
 dog. I would n't trust Hewitt. His memory 
 is that unreliable nowadays." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Dunham, what can my invitation 
 have to do with the little dog? " 
 
 "We can't take him, ma'am. I shouldn't 
 advise it. Some people are very fidgetty about 
 having dogs on a visit. " 
 
 " Do you mean were you thinking of coming 
 with me?" said Jeanne, with a sinking heart. 
 
 "Of course it 's as you wish, ma'am. If you 
 would prefer another maid, I 've nothing to say, " 
 said Dunham, stiffly. 
 
 "I never thought of such a thing. Must I 
 take a maid? Of course if any one comes, it must 
 be you," said Jeanne, much flurried. "But the 
 Duchess says nothing about it in her letter." 
 She referred anxiously to the scrawled and coro- 
 neted sheet of note-paper. 
 
 " How should her Grace mention such a thing, 
 ma'am," said Dunham, in withering tones. "It 
 would be as much a matter of course, to her to 
 take a maid as a brush and comb. But it 's not 
 much as you allow me to do for you, Miss Jane; 
 and of course I 'm getting old " 
 
 "Oh Mrs. Dunham, don't," cried her simple 
 lady, almost in tears. "You know very well 
 I have never been used to maids. Why should 
 we pretend otherwise, just you and me? I have 
 always done everything for myself. It 's not
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 265 
 
 that I don't value and respect you you know 
 it isn't," her voice faltered "though I make 
 many mistakes." 
 
 "You '11 make far less, ma'am, begging your 
 pardon, with me on the watch," said Dunham, 
 softening. "Nor I can't see as you make many 
 neither, only you 're that doubtful of yourself. 
 But 't is no novelty for me to stay in big houses, 
 ma'am, for when Miss Marney was young, she 
 was always a- visiting about, and took a footman 
 with her besides a maid, as a matter of course. 
 If you won't think it a liberty, Miss Jane, I could 
 very well put you in the way of a lot of little 
 things as you could hardly be expected to know 
 of yourself, as one might say." 
 
 "Of course I should be only very grateful to 
 you if you would," said Jeanne; and she thought 
 that the increased consideration which Dunham 
 now displayed towards her, denoted that the old 
 woman was growing fond of her at last. 
 
 "With Mrs. Dunham on the watch upstairs, and 
 Cousin Denis downstairs, " she reflected, " I should 
 think I can hardly go much amiss after all. " 
 
 Nevertheless she was not a little anxious as 
 the carriage turned into the park. 
 
 Here the rolling slopes of emerald green, alter- 
 nating with bare brown patches of shaven 
 bracken, were crowned with great spreading 
 oaks, and giant elms, casting long shadows across 
 the turf.
 
 266 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 The white road gleamed in the sunshine, the 
 deep waters of a lake lay still and glassy, reflect- 
 ing newly-leaved bushes, and motionless dead 
 stems. 
 
 Oh, earth, how beautiful and how silent, thought 
 little Jeanne ; for here it was the over-crowded and 
 noisy city that seemed to her remote and dream- 
 like. 
 
 The silence ended as the carriage drew up 
 before the house; of which the main entrance, 
 rather curiously, was at the back, within view 
 of extensive stables and kennels, and a newly 
 built red-tiled tennis-court. 
 
 Jeanne was now ushered round tall Spanish 
 leather screens, which sheltered the entrance 
 to the outer vestibule into an immense oak-pan- 
 nelled hall, where a tea-table was drawn up 
 before a huge fire of burning logs. Various people 
 were seated around, talking and laughing, as it 
 seemed, at the top of their voices ; and several large 
 boar-hounds were lying or standing about in pic- 
 turesque attitudes. 
 
 The Duchess was so unlike the fashionable 
 velvet-clad long-trained personage of Jeanne's 
 recollection, that she hardly recognised her 
 hostess, who advanced to meet her with out- 
 stretched hands, and a very kind smile of welcome. 
 
 She now wore a short and scanty skirt of 
 battered mud-splashed tweed that barely reached
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 267 
 
 her ankles; a loose, open, baggy coat of the same 
 material, which caused her rotund figure to 
 look perfectly shapeless; and a knitted tam-o'' 
 shanter perched on her grey hair above her ruddy 
 healthy countenance. 
 
 "The Rector's wife would never have been 
 seen in such a gown," said poor Jeanne, after- 
 wards describing the appearance of the Duchess 
 to Dunham. 
 
 "Don't you mind thinking of the Rector's 
 wife," advised the cautious Dunham. "Forget 
 her and all her ways. Watch her Grace, ma'am; 
 or since her Grace is a bit eccentric, watch the 
 other ladies here. The fashions is changed, 
 no doubt, since me and my poor lady stayed 
 about, but what they does, is right." 
 
 "Some were dressed like the Duchess; and 
 some in beautiful long flowing robes of lace and 
 pale colours like evening dresses only not cut 
 low; and one or two in riding habits"; said poor 
 Jeanne, hopelessly confused. "And one or two 
 of the gentlemen in boots and breeches. " 
 
 "They '11 have come in from hunting and 
 taken a cup of tea before going to change," 
 said Dunham, "and the ones in their tea -gowns 
 has changed ; and the others very like been walking 
 late. I wish I had thought to get you a tea-gown, 
 but it seemed to me you was too young," said 
 the anxious old woman, "but I '11 pick up all I 
 can in the Room, ma'am, you may depend. "
 
 268 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Jeanne knew not what the Room might be, 
 but she placed implicit reliance on her faithful 
 attendant. 
 
 The Duchess introduced Jeanne to the three 
 ladies and the two dogs nearest the tea-table, and 
 then said, "I believe you know my son," in 
 her loud and cheerful voice, but with very little 
 idea, as Denis shook hands with her visitor, how 
 very well acquainted they were. 
 
 "Where 's Dermot; it is Dermot who knows 
 your brother so well; but he shall take you in 
 to dinner to-night," said the Duchess. "By the 
 bye, I hope you have good news of your brother; 
 he 's in Somaliland, is n't he?" and the Duchess 
 turned her attention to somebody else, without 
 waiting for Jeanne's answer. 
 
 The tea was bitter with long standing, and 
 the buttered toast so cold that old Granny Morgan 
 would have thrown it into the fire before pre- 
 senting it to a guest; but Jeanne reflected that 
 great ladies cannot be expected to understand 
 such details ; and decided, as she ate and drank, 
 in the utmost alarm, everything that was set 
 before her, that the tales she had heard of the 
 carelessness of servants in large houses, must 
 be only too true. 
 
 Having finished her tea, and scorched the 
 side of her face next the roaring log-fire, to a 
 perfectly crimson hue she was invited to inspect
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 269 
 
 her room, and the Duchess led her thither herself 
 with great kindness of manner, talking all the 
 time in her loud authoritative gabble, and never 
 waiting for an answer ; a habit which occasionally 
 relieved her hearers of embarrassment, for her 
 questions were often inconvenient. 
 
 "So you live all by yourself in your great 
 house. You must be very dull. But I daresay 
 you have plenty of visitors " Here Jeanne 
 would fain have told her that the Duke of Mona- 
 ghan was her only visitor, but the Duchess gave 
 her no time, and she was too frightened to in- 
 terrupt. "It was always on my conscience 
 that I never called upon yoxir aunt, as my dear 
 Duke wished me to do ' thus she alluded to 
 her departed husband, "but you know my 
 son's accident, which happened there, made 
 me declare I would never enter that house again. 
 So you must n't think it unfriendly if I never do. 
 The resolution was taken, you see, before you 
 were born or thought of. Why you can't be 
 twenty. " Jeanne tried to interpolate a correct 
 statement of her age, but the Duchess had flown 
 to another subject, as her custom was, pursu- 
 ing her own train of thought undisturbed. "I 
 suppose you have a companion. Companions 
 are great bores. I had one for a time, but she 
 had neuralgia so badly I was glad to see the last 
 of her. It was quite depressing," (here the 
 Duchess laughed heartily) "whenever I wanted
 
 270 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 her I was always told she had just taken anti- 
 pyrin. And of course you know one must not 
 stir till the effects of that have passed off. So 
 bad for the heart. I hope you never drug yourself. 
 However, I am told every one does, nowadays. 
 I never touch anything of the kind. Here is your 
 room. Now do make yourself quite comfortable 
 and at home, and look upon me as a mother all 
 the time you 're here, my dear, for I 'm very fond 
 of chaperoning girls, never having had daughters 
 of my own." 
 
 Jeanne was quite astonished at so much kind- 
 ness, but before she had time to utter her grati- 
 tude, the great lady was already speeding away 
 down the passage, calling to her favourite boar 
 hound, who had followed her up-stairs with 
 stately velvet tread. 
 
 The bark of the Duchess, it was always said, 
 was worse than her bite ; but she barked so loud 
 and so long, that a bite might have been more 
 easily endured. Thus, though she was in no 
 sense, a bad-hearted woman, but on the contrary 
 a very kind one, she was unpopular among her 
 father's people and on her own estate; where 
 her kindnesses were received so thanklessly that 
 she might be almost excused for forming a poor 
 opinion of her tenants' capacity for gratitude. 
 
 But a sharp tongue may inflict wounds that 
 cod-liver oil, chicken broth, and port wine cannot 
 cure; nor do coals and blankets necessarily warm
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 271 
 
 hearts chilled and offended by fault-finding 
 carried to excess; so that whilst her sons, and 
 more especially Lord Dermot, who was to inherit 
 her property, were exceedingly popular at Chal- 
 lonsleigh, their mother, who had been born 
 and bred there, was at once disliked and feared, 
 to an extent of which she was, happily, very 
 little aware. 
 
 Dunham had paused in her unpacking, and 
 made her old-fashioned curtsey as her Grace 
 entered the apartment, receiving a good-natured 
 nod in reply; and the Duchess was in high good 
 humour as she stumped away to her own rooms. 
 
 She hated smart, self-assertive young ladies, 
 and pert independent maids; but Jeanne's maid 
 was ancient and respectable to such a degree 
 that her mere appearance was a voucher for her 
 mistress, and Jeanne herself was timid and gentle 
 as could be wished, whilst she evidently preferred 
 listening to her elders, to talking herself. 
 
 The Duchess asked no more of a young woman 
 than that she should be respectable, retiring, and 
 rich; and she decided that Jeanne possessed all 
 these recommendations to her favour. 
 
 She questioned her son regarding the riches, 
 to make sure; but as she answered her own ques- 
 tions the Duke did not feel it incumbent upon 
 him to correct her, though he knew very well 
 that if his mother discovered later that she was
 
 272 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 wrong in any of her assumptions, she would blame 
 him for her mistake. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dunham, have you ever seen a 
 prettier room?" cried Jeanne, the moment she 
 was left alone with her maid. 
 
 " Dear yes, ma'am ; but I wish you could remem- 
 ber to call me plain Dunham, and be done with 
 it. I 'm sure I don't know what her Grace would 
 think to hear you. " 
 
 " I will, I will indeed, Dunham, " said Jeanne, 
 obedient though crestfallen. 
 
 " Our spare rooms at Orsett was far finer than 
 this, though of course, you being an unmarried 
 lady would n't be given one of the best. Still, 
 one can't keep London bedrooms fresh and sweet 
 and lavender-scented like this, and I could al- 
 most think myself back at the old place," said 
 Dunham, sighing as she looked round the pleasant 
 spacious country bedroom; with its chintz 
 curtained four-poster, white Dresden chimney 
 ornaments, and the fresh daffodils on the muslin 
 draped toilet-table. 
 
 The big mullioned windows looked on to a 
 stretch of wild park, over which a herd of 
 deer was quietly moving ; and through the bare 
 branches of distant woodlands, blue hills were 
 faintly to be discerned. 
 
 "It is so peaceful and so beautiful," Jeanne 
 said. She leaned out of the open window, to
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 273 
 
 enjoy the last long rays of the afternoon sunshine, 
 and cool her hot cheeks; and her thoughts flew 
 to the burning desert which held her brother 
 captive, far from this fresh and fragrant English 
 country. 
 
 Louis had always loved the spring-time; and 
 his letters from India and from Africa had yearly 
 breathed forth his longings and his regrets. 
 
 " Oh God, send him safely back to me, " prayed 
 little Jeanne, " but I must n't think of him now, 
 or I shall cry, and he would want me to look my 
 best, and do him honour. " 
 
 A servant presently brought a tray full of 
 sprays of hothouse flowers to the door, and 
 Jeanne chose some heliotrope and maidenhair 
 fern to wear with her white gown. 
 
 "Can't I help you, Mrs. I mean Dunham," 
 she ventured to say, as the old woman folded 
 and unfolded, and sorted and arranged the clothes 
 of her own choosing, with heartfelt pride. 
 
 "No, Miss Jane, that is one of the things you 
 must n't do. You should be lying down on the 
 sofa, ma'am, and reading a book ; or taking a doze 
 and getting yourself as fresh as you can, to look 
 well when you 're dressed. That 's what ladies 
 ought to do at this hour. " 
 
 "But I am not tired." 
 
 "You will be, ma'am, for they '11 sit up hours 
 later than you 're accustomed to. Dinner at 
 half past eight, and they seldom sits down, I 
 
 I
 
 274 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 hear, till nearly nine. And there you '11 have 
 to be, smiling away as if you never wanted to go 
 to bed again, " Dunham anxiously instructed 
 her. " Not to mention that you 'd be out of my 
 way on the sofa, ma'am." 
 
 Jeanne obediently reposed herself upon the 
 sofa, in preparation for being tired presently; 
 but the interval between the dressing-gong and 
 the dinner hour being shorter than Dunham 
 expected, she was obliged, in the end, to hurry 
 over her toilette; and only just missed being 
 late after all. 
 
 As she went down-stairs she endeavoured to 
 sustain her failing courage by dwelling upon 
 reflections calculated to allay nervousness, and 
 inspire heroism. 
 
 "One can only live a minute at a time a 
 minute at a time. ... I have but to sit still and 
 watch what other people do. ... It is not my 
 dinner this time, thank heaven. ... I got over 
 my first interview with the Duchess very well. 
 'Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute." Jeanne 
 was proud of her French, and this quotation 
 brought her triumphantly to the first broad 
 landing, which was decked with hothouse plants, 
 and hung with frowning portraits of ducal 
 ancestors. 
 
 " My frock is like a dream, but I cannot think 
 it is I inside it. ... Oh that I may not disgrace 
 it by my behaviour. ... I cannot remember
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 275 
 
 the names of any of the people I was introduced 
 to, but Cousin Denis said I must not repeat 
 people's names when I am talking to them, so 
 perhaps they will not find out I have forgotten. . , . 
 Jeanne Marie Charlotte de Courset, is this 
 being worthy of your forefathers? . . . Would 
 Anne-Marie, Chanoinesse, Comtesse de 1'insigne 
 chapitre noble de Bourbourg, have gone to the 
 guillotine shaking at the knees like this?" This 
 outburst of noble indignation brought her to 
 the foot of the grand staircase; where a liveried 
 giant, in powder and knee-breeches, stood in 
 the now deserted hall, and affably indicated 
 the suite of ante-rooms which led to the saloon 
 where the party was assembled. 
 
 "Worst come to the worst," thought Jeanne, 
 in desperation. " I can but leave the house 
 early to-morrow morning, before any one is up, " 
 and with this last consoling reflection she entered 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 She looked so much younger than her actual 
 age that her very apparent shyness was more 
 becoming than awkward, and evoked fresh 
 approval from the Duchess; who as soon as she 
 espied, through her glasses, the timid entry of 
 Jeanne, made haste to introduce her son Der- 
 mot, who was to take his friend's sister in to 
 dinner. 
 
 "I daresay I shall have Cousin Denis on the 
 other side, and I must not forget that this is
 
 276 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Louis's friend," thought Jeanne, faintly, as she 
 took the tall young man's proffered arm. 
 
 But as she was the least important person in 
 the room, she found herself almost at the other 
 end of the long table, from the Duke of whose 
 fair head she caught only occasional glimpses 
 across the bowers of spring blossom and the 
 massive gold plate with which the festive board 
 was laden. 
 
 But Dermot, whose native shyness was scarcely 
 less overpowering than her own, though he had 
 plenty of experience to counter-balance it 
 spoke of Louis; and the ice was not only broken, 
 but actually thawed, in a moment. 
 
 Her bright little face with its fresh red bloom 
 of lip and cheek, and its long-lashed brown eyes, 
 beautiful in shape and soft in expression was 
 turned towards her partner constantly. She 
 listened with eager delight to the anecdotes of 
 Louis; which, pleased with a success he seldom 
 attained as a raconteur, the young man contrived 
 to fish up from the depths of his memory. 
 
 He knew Louis well had shared more than 
 one scrape with him (but concerning this he was 
 prudently silent) and played cricket with him 
 been in action with him and they were to- 
 gether in hospital at Kimberley. 
 
 " But he never told me he had been in hospital, " 
 said Jeanne. 
 
 "Lord bless you we were in and out like
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 277 
 
 rabbits probably forgot to mention it," said 
 the diplomatic Dermot. 
 
 "No it was that he was afraid to make me 
 anxious," Jeanne said, with loyal admiration. 
 But she did not like to think Louis could keep 
 even so small a secret as this from her. 
 
 "He promised to tell me everything," she 
 thought. 
 
 "I was in, batting, with him once, at Sand- 
 hurst, when he took his century against some 
 local team or other," said Dermot, omitting to 
 mention his own almost equally fine performance 
 on the same occasion. "Lord, how he made me 
 run he nearly killed me. I 'm not so thin as 
 he is," and he laughed all over his broad fair 
 face; a laugh so good-natured and so mirthful 
 that Jeanne joined in it without knowing why. 
 
 But he was not obliged to spend more time 
 than he liked in making conversation, for Jeanne 
 was willing to talk of her brother, as she had been 
 to listen to Lord Dermot 's reminiscences of 
 Louis, so that he was enabled to devote himself 
 for long periods, entirely to his dinner, which 
 he did with great energy and appetite. 
 
 The gentleman on Jeanne's other side, was 
 afforded an excellent view of a thick knob of 
 brown hair, and a very white and dimpled neck 
 and shoulder ; but he scarcely saw even the profile 
 of his pretty neighbour; and no opportunity of 
 addressing her was granted to him.
 
 278 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "Was it all right? Did I do well?" she asked 
 the Duke, anxiously, after dinner. 
 
 "Perfectly," he said, encouragingly. "I hope 
 you talked a little to Mr. Jermyn, who sat next 
 you? He is such an interesting man, and a 
 great friend of my own. " 
 
 "I carefully never spoke to him," said poor 
 Jeanne, in horror, " I thought I must not speak 
 to anybody until I was introduced. " 
 
 "Your neighbour at dinner is an exception," 
 said the Duke, laughing at her dismay. Never 
 mind, you can make up for it to-morrow. " 
 
 "Miss de Courset, come and play billiard 
 fives," cried Lord Dermot, interrupting, "unless 
 you are a bridge'r. Are you a bridgdr?" 
 
 As soon as she had learnt what was meant by 
 the term, Jeanne assured him earnestly that she 
 was not; and with a bright look of apology at 
 Denis for how was it possible to refuse the 
 friend of Louis she went off with Lord Dermot, 
 and two or three of the younger members of the 
 party, to be initiated into the mysteries of bil- 
 liard fives. 
 
 The Duke walked to the piano in the now 
 brilliantly lighted hall, and began to improvise; 
 and a young lady who meant to marry him if 
 she could, sat within his view, in a becoming 
 attitude, and listened with rapt attention. 
 
 At the close of each movement, she hoped 
 he would leave off playing, and come and talk
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 279 
 
 to her; but it invariably glided into another, 
 until at last she gave up in despair and went away ; 
 not daring to interrupt him; for it was known 
 that to be interrupted when he was making 
 music was the one thing which ruffled the Duke's 
 even temper. 
 
 His improvisations ended with a crash, when 
 Jeanne returned from the billiard-room, with 
 the rest of the players, all talking and laughing 
 tumultuously. 
 
 She came straight to the piano, with flushed 
 cheeks and brilliant eyes, smiling and joyous. 
 
 " Oh Cousin Denis, it was so delightful, I wish 
 you had come, we had such fun. " 
 
 "What have you done to your hand?" 
 
 "It is only a little bruise " she held out a 
 fair arm that shone through its veiling of white 
 gauze, and showed him a blue mark on her wrist ; 
 " Lord Dermot would tie a handkerchief round it, 
 but it is nothing at all." 
 
 Dermot came and stood beside her, towering 
 over her, and smiling fatuously as he pulled at the 
 flaxen down which shaded his upper lip. 
 
 "Billiard fives can be an abominably rough 
 game. You should have taken better care of 
 her," said Denis, and the brothers' glances met 
 over Jeanne's unconscious bent brown head 
 as she examined her bruise. 
 
 The one pair of blue eyes was angry; the other 
 astonished.
 
 2 8o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Dermot noted the unusual sternness of the 
 Duke's low voice, and observed the pallor of his 
 face; and suddenly recalling Jeanne's innocent 
 references to his brother's visits in Grosvenor 
 Square a light broke in upon his mind. 
 
 " It does n't hurt a bit, you know, " said Jeanne, 
 looking into the Duke's face, " and we won, which 
 was all that mattered. " 
 
 The Duchess remarked the group at the piano, 
 as she presently entered the hall, (in the best of 
 spirits, for she had won five shillings on the 
 evening) and she smiled her most agreeable smile, 
 as the work of distributing the flat candles began, 
 distinguishing Jeanne with especial notice as the 
 ladies proceeded to mount the grand staircase; 
 and bidding her good-night at her own door. 
 
 " It has all gone off very well, indeed, Dunham, " 
 said Jeanne, greeting the old woman, who awaited 
 her by the blazing fire in her own room. "And 
 I don't think I ever enjoyed myself so much in 
 my life." 
 
 "I'm sure I 'm very glad to hear it, ma'am," 
 said Dunham, affably, "and you looked very 
 well, Miss Jane, for me and some of the other 
 maids was standing up there in the dark gallery, 
 and peeping down at you all in the hall when you 
 came out of dinner." 
 
 " You should not have waited up for me. I 
 could have managed very well for myself. ' ' 
 
 " I hope I know my work better than that 'm,
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 281 
 
 though returning you many thanks for the kind 
 thought," said Dunham. But her tone was still 
 more deferential ; for had she not heard her young 
 lady requested to look upon her Grace as a mother, 
 and was it for her to be finding fault with a pos- 
 sible future Duchess? 
 
 What had seemed like rustic ignorance on the 
 part of Jeanne, would soon appear mere gracious 
 consideration for her inferiors; and Dunham 
 prepared herself to regard with respectful indul- 
 gence the eccentricities of one who had found 
 favour in the eyes of a Duke. 
 
 In the meantime Lord Dermot and his elder 
 brother found space and opportunity for a few 
 words together, and alone. 
 
 "I only ask for fair play, Dermot. If you 
 are in earnest, you have as much right as I 
 if not, for God's sake, let her alone," said the 
 Duke, with white lips. 
 
 " The poor old chap must be balmy, absolutely 
 balmy, to go on like this, " thought his astonished 
 brother; but aloud he said, in much the same 
 soothing tones he would have adopted towards 
 a lunatic. 
 
 " My dear old fellow, don't be an ass. I never 
 set eyes on the girl before in the whole course 
 of my existence. I ask you, is it likely?" 
 
 "There is such a thing as love at first sight," 
 said the Duke, sternly.
 
 2 8 2 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Dermot dared not smile. 
 
 " To be sure there is, " he said, good-humouredly. 
 "But I solemnly swear " 
 
 "Don't," said the Duke, who had heard many 
 such asseverations on other subjects from the 
 same lips, and was no longer impressed. "I 
 only spoke out like this, Dermot, " he said simply, 
 "Because it appears to me it would be foolish 
 to throw away my own happiness, and perhaps 
 who knows (in a lower tone) hers, for want of 
 a word between you and me, who have always 
 more or less understood each other." 
 
 " It would be simply tommy-rot, " said Dermot, 
 translating the Duke's measured words into the 
 emphatic language best understood of himself; 
 and he helped himself with emotion to his third 
 whiskey and soda since dinner. 
 
 "I don't think you are the fellow to let a few 
 days' idle I hate the word flirtation, come 
 between you and me; it would n't be worth it," 
 said the Duke. " But she 's very young, or at 
 least she 's very inexperienced, which comes to 
 the same thing, and and but mind, Dermot, 
 I 'm not asking any kind of sacrifice from you, 
 if if it 's with you as it is with me. In that case 
 we '11 shake hands over it, and let the best man 
 win." 
 
 "But my dear old chap, it is n't," almost 
 shouted Dermot, " I give you my word, such an 
 idea never even entered my head. I '11 leave
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 283 
 
 the house to-morrow morning if you wish, with 
 the greatest pleasure in life. " 
 
 "No, no" 
 
 "Well anyway, here 's luck to your wooing," 
 said Dermot with the enthusiasm born of whiskey. 
 "Have you thought what our parent will say 
 when she gets wind of it?" 
 
 " I don't mean her to get wind of it, until it 's 
 settled one way or the other. " 
 
 "But she will trust her for nosing it out." 
 (The more especially if you give yourself away 
 as you have done to-night, thought Dermot, 
 but this to himself.) 
 
 "There is nothing for her to find out. Miss 
 de Courset herself has no suspicion of my feelings, 
 so naturally no one else has, " said the infatuated 
 young man, innocently. 
 
 "Well, well," said Dermot, as gravely as he 
 could. " It 's I who am responsible for her coming 
 here; so it is I who will be blamed if the match 
 isn't approved. I'm sure I don't care. Her 
 Grace can say very little to me that she has n't 
 said before, if it comes to that. A disreputable, 
 idle, extravagant, thoughtless spendthrift, care- 
 less of the best interests of the family, etc. " 
 
 "Dermot," said his brother, nervously, "I 
 wish you would not speak as though it were a 
 certainty. I have n't even asked her, yet. And 
 you forget that my personal disadvantages " 
 
 " Bosh, " said Dermot.
 
 284 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 " Let me tell you that if you think she 'd marry 
 me for any reason except " 
 
 Dermot concealed a smile. "Poor Denis," he 
 thought. "I suppose they 're always like that. 
 However, in this case, perhaps his game leg 
 makes him extra funky. What 's the good of 
 all this shilly-shallying? Still if by any chance 
 she did take it into her head to refuse him, I 
 believe he 'd go clean off his chump. " 
 
 This reflection caused him to ply his brother 
 with excellent disinterested counsel. 
 
 "Look here, Denis, " he said gravely, "I 
 advise you and you know I 've had lots of ex- 
 perience in these matters," interpolated the 
 Lothario of twenty-four, "I advise you to go 
 straight ahead and and take her by storm, 
 don't you know. There ain't any reason on 
 earth why she should 'nt be fond of you " he 
 said awkwardly, "only as she 's an uncommonly 
 pretty girl I '11 be hanged if she is n't ' he 
 finished the whiskey and soda "while you 're 
 thinking about it, and mooning over your music 
 and all that some other fellow will cut in, and 
 carry her off under your very nose, if you don't 
 take care." 
 
 " I was always a bit of a muff, was n't I, Der- 
 mot?" said the Duke, in a tone of somewhat mel- 
 ancholy raillery. " Not the sort of fellow to take 
 anything by storm. " 
 
 Perhaps Dermot in his heart rather agreed
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 285 
 
 that his eldest brother was a bit of a muff; for 
 he was not sufficiently cultivated himself to 
 appreciate the cultivation of Denis, and occasion- 
 ally mistook the gentleness and gravity born of 
 suffering and solitude, for want of manliness. 
 
 But he was at once too good-natured and too 
 fond of Denis, to have ever given utterance to 
 his opinion; and he had no idea that the Duke 
 had divined it. 
 
 He clapped his brother encouragingly upon 
 the shoulder, and expressed both his sympathy 
 and his affection as tersely as possible, in 
 the emphatic utterance of his favourite mono- 
 syllable. 
 
 "Rot."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE TELEGRAM 
 
 THERE are moments, perhaps, in most lives 
 (but such periods are not to be measured by the 
 clock), of vague but perfect happiness; enjoyed 
 almost unconsciously at the time, yet looked 
 back upon afterwards with wonder and envy. 
 
 Jeanne did not pause to ask herself why the 
 days at Challonsleigh were so much happier than 
 any other days her life had ever known ; nor why 
 the spring season, always a time of rejoicing, 
 should this year be so riotously glad as to fill 
 her heart with actual ecstacy as she walked in 
 the sunshine, beneath a cloudless April sky, and 
 gathered the scented white violets, and the yellow 
 daffodils growing by thousands in the fields. 
 
 She tried her hand at golf, under the Duke's 
 tuition; and being blessed with the luck that 
 usually attends beginners, believed that she 
 could play the game very fairly; she was driven 
 to the meet, in the Duke's dog-cart, and with 
 great wonder and admiration beheld the Duchess 
 on her colossal steed, looking as trim as it was 
 
 possible for a lady weighing fourteen stone to 
 
 286
 
 THE LONELY LADY 287 
 
 look, in her close-fitting habit; she sat with the 
 Duke, in the new tennis-court, and watched 
 vigorous encounters between Dermot and Brian, 
 evenly matched in the royal game, equally tall, 
 active, and muscular; and she wondered that 
 Cousin Denis could be so keenly and breathlessly 
 interested as a mere looker-on. 
 
 She marvelled at the luxury of the stables, 
 the number of the horses, the extensiveness of the 
 kennels, and the perfection of the model farms 
 on the estate, which appealed strongly to her own 
 orderly instincts and practical experience. 
 
 The Duchess was fond of an outdoor life. 
 When she was at home in the country she dis- 
 carded her fine clothes, her curled white front, 
 and her long handled glasses ; and tramped about 
 the grounds in all weathers, wearing a short 
 tweed skirt, a billycock perched on her own grey 
 hair, and a pair of spectacles which enabled her 
 to see where she was going. 
 
 She carried always a stout walking stick, and 
 was generally followed by half a dozen dogs besides 
 her favourite boarhounds. She visited cottages, 
 inspected the home farm, and examined the 
 timber with untiring interest and energy. 
 
 But it was new to her to find a female' com- 
 panion who was as tireless as herself and a great 
 deal more active, and who had an even more 
 practical knowledge of subjects connected with 
 stock, cider-making, and dairy-work.
 
 2 88 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 She found fault (in her usual candid manner) 
 with Jeanne's too elegant walking attire, and pre- 
 sented one of her own tweed skirts to her visitor 
 (to Dunham's horror) which Jeanne gratefully ac- 
 cepted, as she did all the advice bestowed upon 
 her by the Duchess, who was highly delighted by 
 such docility. 
 
 Her fear of the Duchess vanished during the 
 expeditions she made with her ; tramping up 
 steep, red, muddy roads, through coppices car- 
 peted with primroses, down narrow stony lanes, 
 and over springing mossy turf, they became 
 very nearly intimate. 
 
 The Duchess, to be sure, monopolized the 
 chief part of the conversation, but the country 
 was hilly, and the great lady was stout; going 
 up-hill Jeanne had it all her own way. 
 
 Thus her Grace learnt the history of the French 
 pedigree (which bored her excessively), and 
 incidentally, the generous intentions of Louis: 
 which she took breath to assure Jeanne (panting) 
 were exactly what every one in the world would 
 expect of him, and which could not consequently 
 be thwarted; and this latter information inter- 
 ested her so much that she redoubled her kindness 
 to her visitor, and pressed her to prolong her 
 stay. 
 
 Habit doubtless inures human beings to all 
 kinds of changes ; but more swiftly to surroundings 
 of luxury than of hardship. Jeanne soon learnt
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 289 
 
 to go in to dinner without trembling; and to 
 order her own breakfast quite fearlessly every 
 morning, from the menu handed to her as she 
 entered the great dining-room, where every 
 guest who breakfasted downstairs had his or her 
 separate service, and special dish to order. 
 
 She retracted her hasty judgment of the bad 
 management of large establishments, as she gained 
 experience in the excellence of cuisine, and the 
 perfect attention of the noiseless and well-trained 
 servants. 
 
 Her simplicity saved her from the mortifica- 
 tions and difficulties that might have beset a 
 lonely lady with a little more knowledge of the 
 world, who found herself suddenly included in 
 a large and fashionable party assembled for 
 Easter in a country house. 
 
 But allusions that such a one might be striving 
 to follow and understand passed over her head 
 with perfect innocuousness ; and here ignorance 
 was bliss indeed. It did not concern her for a 
 moment that she could not join in the conversation 
 when it turned on racing, as it often did, or on 
 bridge, or on motoring, or the latest doings of 
 the best known people in the land. 
 
 She knew as much about politics as about polo, 
 and was perfectly contented to sit in her corner 
 and listen, whilst others talked; or to withdraw 
 her mind altogether from her surroundings, and 
 dream of Louis. 
 19
 
 2 9 o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Her modesty attracted the men of the party, 
 and mollified the women; had the Duke and his 
 mother monopolised her less, she might have 
 made many friends. 
 
 As it was she saw the departure of most of the 
 Easter guests, without any particular feelings of 
 regret; and rather rejoiced at the diminished 
 numbers of the party, which led to a certain 
 increase of intimacy among those who remained. 
 
 Lord Dermot had turned his attentions (always 
 inclined to be exclusive) to the young lady who 
 had intended if she could to marry the Duke ; and 
 as she prudently reflected that after all, the 
 younger brother would be the richer man of 
 the two, she met his advances, as it seemed to 
 the onlookers, rather more than half way ; which 
 resulted in a flirtation so very ardent and conspic- 
 uous that the Duchess hailed the return of her sec- 
 ond son to his duties at Windsor with great relief. 
 
 Their devotion was so exaggerated that it 
 excited open smiles, and Jeanne overhearing 
 fragments of a conversation between two ladies 
 who were intimate with one another, could not 
 be ignorant of the subject to which they alluded. 
 
 "Will it come to anything, do you think?" 
 
 "Good heavens, no. He never stays in the 
 same house a week without almost becoming 
 engaged." 
 
 " He only just fled in time, then. I never saw 
 any one so determined as she. "
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 291 
 
 "She has met her match," said the first lady, 
 shaking her head. "He will disappear to 
 shoot lions or something worst come to the 
 worst. " 
 
 "They generally go to the Rocky Mountains 
 in cases of extremity, " said the other. 
 
 Jeanne listened with indignation; but it was 
 being gradually borne in upon her simple mind 
 that size, strength, and comeliness of person, are 
 not the only desirable qualities in mankind; and 
 that the Duke suffered less than she could have 
 supposed possible, by comparison with his 
 brothers. 
 
 Lord Dermot, loud and cheerful, ruddy and 
 healthful, was obviously, to the merest looker- 
 on, careless of everything in the world but his 
 own pleasure; lustily ready to hunt, to shoot, or 
 to make love, with equal zest; and young as he 
 was, already dependent on constant fillips of 
 whiskey. 
 
 Lord Brian, with an equally fine physique, 
 and the same Saxon fairness, was at once heavier 
 of build, and duller of intellect than his elder; 
 and appeared to exist for the sole purpose of 
 getting from one place to another as quickly as 
 he possibly could; for he dreamt, thought, and 
 spoke of nothing but motoring. 
 
 " But at least they are brave, " thought Jeanne, 
 wistfully, "for they both went to South Africa 
 to fight for their country, " but she could not help
 
 292 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 feeling that when she had said that, she had 
 said all. 
 
 She blushed at the memory of her earlier 
 feelings for Cousin Denis; of her kindly pity, 
 not unmixed with contempt, for his inferiority 
 in appearance and strength to her idolised 
 brother. 
 
 Was it possible that the difference of the setting 
 in which she now beheld him, had helped to in- 
 crease her respect for the Duke, so that she now 
 regarded him with something very like reverence, 
 mingled with her cousinly affection? 
 
 Jeanne blushed again, and with shame, at the 
 very suspicion. 
 
 Yet human nature is undeniably subject to 
 the influence of surroundings. 
 
 The quiet, lame young man, whose fair com- 
 plexion was liable to such unfortunate variations 
 of colour, whose unassuming manners had caused 
 her to forget her natural timidity, and who 
 never asserted his own opinions, nor contradicted 
 those of other people, nor expressed strong likes 
 and dislikes had seemed to Jeanne, (accustomed 
 to the more vigorous, or less well-governed, 
 personality of Louis) a very ordinary individual 
 indeed. But the Duke, seated at the head of 
 that great banqueting table, with its double 
 row of well-bred, well-dressed guests, and its 
 burden of hothouse blossoms and gold plate 
 and wax lights the Duke, limping through the
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 293 
 
 spacions hall, giving quiet orders in his low voice, 
 to bowing and deferential servants of twice his 
 own size, as a matter of course the Duke riding 
 through the deer park on his splendid chestnut 
 horse in short, the Duke at home, the head of a 
 great house, and treated universally with respect 
 as well as affection by those who had known him 
 from childhood, could no longer be regarded by 
 a little country maiden as such a very unimportant 
 young man, his lameness and his delicacy not- 
 withstanding; and perhaps Jeanne would hardly 
 have been human had she not come to look upon 
 him in a totally new light. 
 
 "High, or low, indoors or out, there 's not a 
 living soul but has a good word for him," re- 
 ported Dunham, thus doubtless summarising 
 the information she had been able to glean in 
 the Room. "He 's spent the most of his money, 
 they say, on his poor Irish tenants; but yet he 
 always seems to have a somthing to spare. 'T was 
 he as come to the Vicar's help here, with the 
 working man's club, as her Grace would n't put 
 her hand in her pocket for; and he has built the 
 tennis-court for his brothers. And nobody they 
 says, from his childhood up has ever heard a 
 rough word from him, for all he suffered from 
 his poor back and her Grace's tantrums. " 
 
 The Duchess, although in no way gifted by 
 any especial quickness of perception, was yet, 
 being a woman and a mother, enabled to divine
 
 2 9 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 the sentiments with which Denis regarded her 
 young visitor, before Jeanne had been twenty- 
 four hours under her roof. 
 
 Only her real anxiety to see her eldest son 
 married, could have kept her nimble tongue 
 from allusion to the subject; but though a great 
 talker, she could be silent when her own interests 
 or her children's were at stake; and she perceived 
 Jeanne's unconsciousness with something like 
 awe, realising the simplicity which it denoted. 
 
 The Duchess knew very well that the uncon- 
 sciousness was real and not assumed ; no woman 
 can be deceived on such a point by another; and 
 she felt almost a maternal tenderness towards 
 the girl as she realised it. 
 
 "I have always wished for a daughter," she 
 thought, "and here, for a wonder, is one that 
 would suit me down to the ground. No modern, 
 anaemic young woman, all nerves and excite- 
 ment, but a nice, quiet, gentle creature, come of 
 a healthy agricultural stock; with an historic 
 name, as it appears, into the bargain ; and best 
 of all, the prospect of a really suitable marriage 
 dot. " 
 
 For Mr. Valentine had told Dunham, and 
 Dunham had told her Grace's maid, who had 
 in turn informed the Duchess, of Captain de 
 Courset's openly declared intention of sharing 
 his unexpected inheritance, with his twin sister. 
 
 No doubt, thought her Grace, he would be
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 295 
 
 advised to do nothing quite so quixotic when 
 the time came ; but her favourite enquiry of How 
 much? in the right quarters, had elicited the 
 gratifying information that the late Miss Marney's 
 gross estate had been valued at three hundred 
 and sixty thousand pounds. 
 
 It would go hard with her if Jeanne's portion, 
 from a young and generous brother, who had 
 never before owned a penny in his life, and who 
 practically owed his inheritance to his sister, 
 should be less than a hundred thousand pounds; 
 perhaps even more, when young de Courset realised 
 the magnificence of the match Jeanne would be 
 making. 
 
 " I should be quite satisfied with that/ ' thought 
 the Duchess, surprised at her own moderation, 
 "quite because she is so exactly the kind of 
 girl I prefer, and never hoped to find, for Denis. 
 Why can't he make haste and propose to her? 
 Thank heaven Dermot did not take one of his 
 fancies to her; no young woman would look at 
 Denis beside Dermot, " the Duchess was troubled 
 with no illusions concerning the superiority of 
 mind over muscle in feminine eyes. "She shall 
 not stir from here until it is all settled. " 
 
 But fate was too strong for the Duchess. 
 
 Jeanne's visit had lasted ten days, (for she 
 had needed but little pressing to prolong it), 
 and she had spent a happy morning wandering 
 in the old walled kitchen gardens, with Denis;
 
 296 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 for the Duchess, who usually claimed her company 
 at that time, had some arrears of letter-writing 
 to occupy her, and was busy with her secretary. 
 
 It was a typical April day ; light showers alter- 
 nating with brightest sunshine, and the breath 
 of spring flowers scenting the mild air. 
 
 They walked past beds of wallflowers, pale 
 yellow and copper colour, and deep velvet red; 
 and of blue forget-me-nots bordered with stiff 
 little red daisies; below sunny red walls where 
 the blossoming peach trees were nailed fan-wise; 
 through alleys of standard pears and plums, and 
 cherry trees white with bloom. 
 
 Against a high north wall, the camellias flour- 
 ished hardily, bearing their burden of waxen 
 flowers in profusion, as though the outdoor climate 
 of the West Country were more congenial to 
 them than the hothouses of the North. Above 
 the wall rose the delicate spires of the young 
 larch plantations newly green ; and horse-chestnuts 
 just uncrumpling downy leaves, the cuckoo's 
 call sounded far and near. 
 
 "I should think you must be fonder of this 
 place than of anything in the world, " said Jeanne. 
 
 "No; for it is not my home. Cuilmore is far 
 dearer to me, solitary as it is. It is much wilder 
 and more beautiful than this, though alas, so 
 much less prosperous and orderly. " 
 
 "Can you not work at it to make it grow 
 prosperous and orderly?"
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 297 
 
 "It is the wish of my heart," he said "If it 
 could be done. " 
 
 "When shall you go back?" asked Jeanne, 
 simply. 
 
 "Very soon it depends." 
 
 They took refuge in a greenhouse from a passing 
 shower. 
 
 Jeanne stood beside a bank of arums and 
 spirea and Madonna lilies, which rose among the 
 palms above the lower tier, whereon brightly 
 coloured hyacinths and gay tulips were ranged 
 in long rows. A light green climber covered the 
 roof, and dangled delicate tendrils above their 
 heads; the rain pattered upon the glass, and 
 splashed through the open doorway; and the 
 Duke half closed the door. 
 
 They had been together and alone, very often ; 
 but never quite like this; shut into this narrow 
 glass kingdom of colour and sweet scent, in a 
 twilight of green foliage, and falling rain; a 
 sudden consciousness touched both man and 
 maiden, with that unpremeditated little action 
 of the Duke's in closing the door, as it were, 
 upon the outer world; and although they were 
 standing in such close proximity that the white 
 cloth gown was almost touching the grey tweed 
 coat, yet neither glanced towards the other. 
 
 The rain ceased as suddenly as it began; 
 glistening silver drops fell from the cornice to 
 the stone pavement of the entry, whilst the sun
 
 298 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 serenely conquered the last of the purple clouds, 
 and shone forth with renewed splendour. 
 
 The Duke looked at Jeanne's bright face, 
 which reflected the glory of the sunlight in the 
 clear transparent red of her cheeks, and in her 
 dazzled brown eyes and said to himself, with 
 new born hopefulness 
 
 " Not yet but very soon. " 
 
 For as she had passed from shyness to perfect 
 confidence in his presence, so he was conscious 
 now that her shyness of him was returning once 
 more. 
 
 Almost it seemed as though she were beginning, 
 at last, to understand. 
 
 Jeanne blushed as she met that half tender, 
 half mirthful look in his blue eyes, and said 
 hurriedly, "It has stopped raining, let us go 
 home now," without knowing why; and indeed 
 scarcely knowing what she said. 
 
 But as they went their way home over the 
 wet paths, wherein the sun reflected itself from 
 a thousand miniature lakes and gleaming pebbles 
 the song of the birds sounded as no concert of 
 the woods had ever sounded in Jeanne's ears 
 before, and evoked joyful echoes in her very heart. 
 
 They walked in silence; and in silence parted 
 in the great hall; thus affording a happy illustra- 
 tion of the proverbial blindness of love; for by 
 this time Jeanne was perhaps the only woman in 
 Challonsleigh who did not know that she was
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 299 
 
 the probable future Duchess of Monaghan; and 
 Denis the only man who had any doubt as to 
 what her answer would be, when he should 
 actually utter the proposal which had so often 
 trembled upon his lips. 
 
 Both were content, for the moment, with that 
 vaguely blissful condition which precedes the 
 declaration of first love, and seldom altogether 
 survives it. So that instead of coming to an 
 immediate understanding with his companion, 
 the Duke sought the privacy of his study, whilst 
 Jeanne flew up-stairs to her own room, that she 
 too, might be alone with her happy thoughts, and 
 her budding hopes, and the bewildering tumult 
 of her suddenly awakened heart. 
 
 She did not know, as she entered her pleasant 
 room, with the gladness of the spring in her hur- 
 rying pulses, and the brightness of the April sun- 
 shine still dazzling her brown eyes, that she was 
 leaving her youth upon the threshold and shut- 
 ting the door upon it, for ever. 
 
 She crossed the room, humming a song, but her 
 song died on her lips as she took up a telegram 
 which lay conspicuously upon the dressing table. 
 
 O. H. M. 5. 
 
 Deeply regret. . . . telegram received from Bo- 
 hotle reports your brother Captain Louis de C our set 
 . . . missing. Without doubt kitted in action. 
 MILITARY SECRETARY.
 
 300 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Dunham entered from the communicating 
 room and found Jeanne standing still with the 
 telegram in her hand. 
 
 "It came an hour ago," said the maid, "and 
 I brought it up here for you, thinking it might 
 be important." 
 
 " Louis is dead," said Jeanne. 
 
 She did not faint nor scream, only looked at 
 Dunham; and presently sat down in the arm- 
 chair, feeling a little sick. 
 
 She heard Dunham asking somebody at the 
 door for brandy, and thought she laughed in the 
 old woman's face when she returned; but it was 
 only a pitiful ashy smile that Jeanne gave. How 
 could brandy possibly help her? Yet when 
 she had obediently swallowed the mixture Dun- 
 ham put authoritatively to her lips, she found 
 that it helped her. 
 
 Her knees ceased to shake, and the mists 
 cleared away, and she understood that the tele- 
 gram was a reality. 
 
 "I know now why poor people take to drink 
 when they are miserable," she said suddenly to 
 Dunham. "You get strong, and you understand. 
 But it all seems a long way off, and as if it did n't 
 really matter. " 
 
 Dunham was shocked when Jeanne said this, 
 describing what she really felt, instead of what 
 she ought to have felt.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 301 
 
 But the effect that she described was so mo- 
 mentary, that it was barely worth describing 
 at all. 
 
 "I must write to Uncle Roberts at once," she 
 said, and went to the writing table. 
 
 Dunham stood watching her; not knowing 
 what to do, but very sure that somebody must 
 be written to at once, and relieved that her young 
 lady should be able to do it. 
 
 Jeanne took one of the strawberry-crowned 
 sheets of note paper, and began her letter. 
 
 "Dear Uncle Roberts, 
 
 " I am sorry to tell you that Louis is dead " 
 
 the written words looked to her so absurd that 
 she laughed aloud, and Dunham became alarmed 
 for her reason. 
 
 "You had better send a telegram, ma 'am- 
 or let me and perhaps your good uncle would 
 come to you, Miss Jane, for we must go home 
 at once," said the poor old woman, and she 
 suddenly broke down herself, and began to cry 
 pitifully. 
 
 "Do not cry, Mrs. Dunham. What are you 
 crying for?" said Jeanne, jealously. "He was 
 nothing to you. "
 
 " For gold the merchant ploughs the main, 
 The farmer ploughs the manor. 
 But glory is the soldier's prize, 
 The soldier's wealth is honour." 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 UNCLE ROBERTS sat in one of the gilt and brocaded 
 Louis Seize chairs of the morning-room at 99 
 Grosvenor Square; with his hands crossed upon 
 the knob of the market umbrella he held between 
 his knees. He wore his rusty old great-coat, which 
 he had refused to leave in the hall, despite Hewitt's 
 anxious persuasions ; and he had put down his old 
 round hat upon the delicate blue cover of the 
 Book of Beauty. 
 
 He was in a state of agitation indescribable; 
 and Jeanne forgot her astonishment at seeing 
 him in London at all, in her awe at beholding a 
 man who was usually so stolid and immovable 
 thus beside himself. 
 
 His light blue eyes stared at her miserably 
 from the forest of red-grey hair which surrounded 
 his weather-beaten face ; the wretchedness of his 
 
 302
 
 THE LONELY LADY 303 
 
 look and of his tones appalled her in the midst 
 of her sorrow; his tears the rare and difficult 
 tears of a man who has not wept since childhood, 
 filled her with reverence as with pity. 
 
 "I been to the War Office. I done what I 
 could," said Uncle Roberts, trembling, and un- 
 conscious of the drops that we're falling over the 
 unkempt beard and whiskers that Louis and 
 Jeanne had so often deplored to each other. " You 
 seen the papers this morning?" 
 
 " Yes, I have seen the papers. " 
 
 "They could tell no more than was written on 
 the papers. It seems there ain't no hope of 
 seeing him no more in this world. They sent 'un 
 on a wild-goose chase and killed 'un. And all 
 for nothing." 
 
 "Uncle, oh Uncle! You must not talk like 
 that. It makes it so much harder. He was 
 doing his duty. You always say a man can do 
 no more," she cried in anguish. "He has laid 
 down his life for his King and country, as as 
 his father did before him. " 
 
 But her efforts died away into choking sobs. 
 
 "And he was only twenty-five, and all his life 
 before him," said Jeanne, and she sank on her 
 knees and wept as she had not yet been able to 
 weep; for the familiar presence of Uncle Roberts 
 brought back to her the memory of Louis at 
 home on the farm and opened the fountains 
 of her tears.
 
 3 o 4 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 The sight of her agony did more to restore the 
 old man's self-control than all her attempts at 
 consolation. 
 
 He stretched his arm out, and laid his rough 
 hand not ungently for a moment on the brown 
 head. Then he rose, pulled himself together, 
 and walking to the window, blew a trumpet blast 
 into his red cotton handkerchief. 
 
 The storm of Jeanne's weeping passed, and 
 she too, controlled herself, and smoothed her 
 hair about her little ears, and confronted her 
 uncle, with pale face, and dimmed and sunken 
 eyes. 
 
 A dozen newspapers were scattered about the 
 room; each had been scanned in desperate hopes 
 of some fresh item, some hint of a possibility that 
 the disaster was not final that those who were 
 missing might yet be recovered. 
 
 But the same heading dreadful in certainty 
 the same clear and appalling details were 
 reported in all. 
 
 SOMALILAND DISASTER 
 Ten Officers and 174 men killed 
 
 and here was the list, and the name of Louis de 
 Courset in black and white; and among the 
 other brief pathetic paragraphs, was the one which 
 summed up the history of his short life, so far 
 as it concerned his country.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 305 
 
 "Captain Louis de C our set had served on the 
 Indian frontier and during the Boer War. For his 
 services in South Africa he was twice mentioned 
 in dispatches, and received the D.S.O. He was 
 in his twenty-sixth year. " 
 
 All the rest for Jeanne was summed up 
 in that portion of the main telegram which was 
 headed : All died fighting. 
 
 " . . . kept back enemy 1 's forces until no more 
 Ammunition. . . . at last enemy's forces over- 
 whelmed square and annihilated all with exception 
 f 37 fugitive Yaos." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" said Uncle 
 Roberts. 
 
 "There is nothing to be done. I have been 
 waiting, and waiting, and waiting for him 
 all this time, and it was for nothing. " 
 
 This was indeed the feeling of the whole house- 
 hold. 
 
 A dreariness indescribable had descended upon 
 them. Nothing had been settled since their old 
 lady's death. They had all been waiting, with 
 Jeanne, for the return of the heir. And now 
 he would never come. 
 
 "Will you come home?" said Uncle Roberts. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "No, no. There might be oh Uncle, I am 
 praying day and night there may be some
 
 306 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 more letters. The last had no messages nothing 
 special. But perhaps later he may have written 
 just before the the disaster with some pre- 
 sentiment. " 
 
 But this was a flight beyond Uncle Roberts's 
 powers of imagination. 
 
 "What good can lette'rs do now?" His head 
 sunk on to his chest. " I never thought to outlive 
 the lad, " he said almost angrily. 
 
 Then as though the words led him into another 
 train of thought, he asked suspiciously, 
 
 "Has that lawyer chap been nigh the place 
 yet?" 
 
 "Hewitt went round to Mr. Valentine Dun- 
 ham said he must directly we came home," 
 said Jeanne. "But he has not returned from 
 his Easter holidays yet. He is in Switzerland. 
 Some one else came round from the- office, but I 
 said I would see no one till Mr. Valentine came 
 home. He is very kind and he knows about 
 everything. He will tell me what to do. " 
 
 Uncle Roberts looked uneasy. 
 
 "I 've no faith in lawyers; nor yet I ain't no 
 match for them. Still I don't like to leave a 
 bit of a girl like you, to fight them all alone," 
 he said, in troubled tones. 
 
 "There will be no fighting," said Jeanne, 
 with a wan smile. " Aunt Caroline trusted him. " 
 
 "Ay, I daresay," rather contemptuously. 
 
 Jeanne sought for an argument more likely
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 307 
 
 to convince her uncle of Mr. Valentine's probity. 
 
 " Louis had heard all about him from a brother 
 officer. He wrote that he trusted him, too. " 
 
 "Did he? The lad had a good head," said 
 Uncle Roberts, and his brow cleared. "I '11 
 warrant he would n't say so without cause". " 
 
 "If there were any difficulties there is my 
 Cousin Denis," said Jeanne, wearily. " He brought 
 Dunham and me home last night. We were stay- 
 ing, as I wrote you, with his mother. " 
 
 "Ay; the letter was a bit long, but I read 
 it all through. I don't hold with dukes and 
 duchesses," said Uncle Roberts, gruffly, "but if 
 they 're relations, you 're very right to be civil to 
 them. Blood 's thicker than water. When you 're 
 tired of 'em all you can come back home. " No 
 doubts assailed his honest mind but that Coed- 
 Ithel must always be home to little 5 Jeanne. " If 
 they can be of use to you, so much the better. 
 I doubt you '11 be cheated out of all this fine 
 fortune the poor lad was to have got," he said, 
 heavily. " 'T will be nought but a burden upon a 
 bit of a girl like you. " 
 
 "Do you mean that that it is me it all 
 belongs to now," said Jeanne, "I never thought 
 of that." 
 
 "Who else 't was left to him outright." 
 
 "How shall I know what he would wish me 
 to do with it " said Jeanne weeping; then her 
 face was suddenly illumined. "Oh, how could
 
 3 o8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 I have forgotten. He said there was a letter 
 which he sent to the Bank long ago, with his 
 Insurance policy. I was to read it only if some- 
 thing happened. Mr. Valentine has it now. 
 That will tell me what he wishes but no no 
 it can't, for it was written long before poor Aunt 
 Caroline died. It will not help me but at least, 
 at least, I shall see his dear writing once more. " 
 
 " Did the lad insure his life? " 
 
 "Long ago, that the debts he left behind him 
 might be honourably paid, " said Jeanne, proudly, 
 "and oh Uncle, I may tell you now, he said I 
 was to get the best horse that money could buy 
 for you besides. He wanted to show you how 
 grateful he was for all you 'd done for him. Oh, 
 Louis, Louis, you left nothing undone, ever in all 
 your life, that you could think of " 
 
 "I don't want no horse," said Uncle Roberts; 
 but he cried as he said it. "What did he want 
 with debts? Could n't he a' wrote to me if he 
 was n't able to pay his way as he went along? " 
 
 "Oh, Uncle, was Louis one to ask ?" 
 
 " If I kep' him short, 't was for his good. I was 
 brought up to believe a man should earn his 
 bread " said Uncle Roberts, and his voice shook. 
 "God knows I grudged him nought." 
 
 "You did everything for him," cried Jeanne, 
 and she came and knelt beside her uncle, and 
 laid her wet cheek against his beard. "You 
 gave him his start in life, as a kinsman should
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 309 
 
 do you think we would either of us forget it? 
 and after that what shame is there in honourable 
 poverty for a soldier? But it would have been 
 shame for an officer and a gentleman to take 
 your hard-earned money and play at being rich. 
 Louis was never one to do that. Oh thank 
 God he leaves a name unstained unstained " 
 she sobbed. 
 
 Uncle Roberts went back to Coed-Ithel and 
 Jeanne was alone once more. 
 
 In a darkened room, with head aching and 
 cheeks burning from long hours of bitter, hopeless 
 weeping she lay; listening to the ceaseless 
 jangle of hansoms, and the alternate nearing and 
 dying sounds of horses' hoofs, that came to her 
 through the open window. As she counted each 
 chime of the clock, she had a wild feeling that 
 she must be waiting still for the bell that would 
 never ring the hansom that would never stop 
 the tread that would never come up the stair. 
 
 Presently a step did sound on the stair, for 
 the Duchess had come to town, and would take 
 no denial, but forced her arbitrary way into 
 Jeanne's presence. 
 
 Yet perhaps, it was well she did so; for of the 
 mixture of motives that prompted her action, 
 Jeanne's innocent eyes only discerned one; and 
 that was the honest sympathy which prompted 
 her warm, motherly embrace.
 
 3 io THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "Poor child, poor little Jeanne." 
 
 "Is there any fresh news ? Has anything 
 more " 
 
 "No, no. Denis has made every enquiry. 
 Alas, there is nothing. Nothing left for you, 
 my poor child, but to mourn your hero, and be 
 proud of him." The tears in the Duchess' eyes 
 were genuine. She kissed the burning cheek, 
 and drew the aching head on to her ample bosom, 
 petting and soothing Jeanne as though she had 
 been a child. 
 
 " But you can't stay here alone, my love, " said 
 the Duchess presently, in her authoritative voice. 
 
 " Yes, yes, indeed I must ; until I get his letters, 
 and know if there was anything he wished 
 The lawyer has not come home yet. I am better 
 here. I shall grow braver when I have had time 
 to face it. I shall be able to attend to to 
 business when Mr. Valentine comes. " 
 
 With a marvellous effort but the stake at 
 issue was so great the Duchess held her tongue. 
 
 "I am coming down-stairs to-morrow," said 
 Jeanne. "Only Dunham thought it would be 
 the best thing for me to have one more day to 
 rest up here. " 
 
 "And I came to disturb you. But I won't 
 stay poor little thing. Only remember, if you 
 want me, I will come at any time. I am in Park 
 Lane, close by, you know. And Denis is think- 
 ing of you day and night. "
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 311 
 
 " He is very, very kind, " faltered Jeanne. She 
 closed her eyes for a moment, and the Duchess 
 did not guess that she was reproaching herself 
 passionately for her happiness on that bright 
 spring morning was it only three days ago 
 when Louis Louis, had she but known it, was 
 lying dead in the desert. 
 
 "Oh, let me die, oh, let me die," moaned poor 
 Jeanne, in her heart. 
 
 She came down on the morrow and faced a 
 worse ordeal than the visit from the Duchess; 
 for a card was brought to her scribbled over 
 with Cecilia's pointed writing. 
 
 "Surely you will see an old friend, dearest 
 Jeanne f" 
 
 "Oh yes, I will see her; why not?" said Jeanne, 
 with dry eyes. 
 
 She felt as though she could weep no more. 
 After all, what did it matter what Cecilia said? 
 
 "I heard the Duchess of Monaghan had been 
 let in, and I was sure if you could see her, almost 
 a stranger, you would not refuse an old friend like 
 me, " said Cecilia, who knew nothing of Jeanne's 
 visit to Challonsleigh. 
 
 "It is very kind of you to come, " said Jeanne, 
 dully. 
 
 Cecilia looked at her almost with awe. Jeanne
 
 3 i2 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 seemed to have lost her prettiness, and her fresh 
 and youthful look. 
 
 Her cheeks and lips were pale, and there were 
 hollows beneath her brown eyes, stained and 
 reddened with long weeping. 
 
 A note of genuine sympathy sounded moment- 
 arily in Cecilia's voice. 
 
 " Oh, poor, poor, little Jeanne. Will you come 
 and stay with me? Joseph is away, so we should 
 be quite alone. I am sure I should be very thank- 
 ful to have you, for I am nearly as lonely as you 
 are, " said Cecilia, shedding a few tears. 
 
 "Thank you very much. It is very kind. 
 But I must stay here, I am waiting for Mr. Valen- 
 tine, " said Jeanne. 
 
 "Well, I won't press you against your will," 
 said Cecilia; with her handkerchief to her eyes, 
 "for I know what you must be feeling by what 
 I am feeling myself." 
 
 "Thank you, " said Jeanne. 
 
 Cecilia began to recover herself, but still cried 
 a little at intervals. 
 
 " I can't tell you how shocked I was nor how 
 grieved. It reminded me so these things always 
 do of my own loss. You know, I told you I 
 lost my baby a boy six months old pneumonia." 
 
 "Yes, you told me," said Jeanne. 
 
 "It makes one able to feel for others more, 
 having been through just the same thing oneself, " 
 said Cecilia. "Not but what this is worse than
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 313 
 
 ordinary death all so blank no funeral 
 nothing." 
 
 " It makes no difference, " said Jeanne, speaking 
 with dry lips. 
 
 Oh, why had she let Cecilia in? 
 
 "You would not say so," said Cecilia, sobbing, 
 "if you knew the comfort of having their 
 grave to cry over and keep nice and tidy. It 
 may not be much consolation, but it is something." 
 
 "I daresay it might be to you. I should not 
 feel it so, " said Jeanne, in a hard voice. 
 
 Cecilia's sobs took from her every inclination 
 to weep ; and she felt only a strong desire that her 
 friend should go, and that speedily. 
 
 "Well I am glad to see you are able to keep 
 up, " said Cecilia, "for I was half afraid you would 
 be like me. I was utterly prostrated. " 
 
 "No, I am not utterly prostrated. I am able 
 to keep up." 
 
 " Yes. People take things so differently. But 
 of course I was there. That makes a difference. 
 Perhaps it is better when one does n't see them, 
 after all." 
 
 "Perhaps it is," said Jeanne. 
 
 "Have you seen the Duke?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What do you suppose made the Duchess 
 call?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "I suppose " Cecilia hesitated. Was it too
 
 314 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 soon to talk of such things? Really, when there 
 was no funeral, it was very hard to tell. It must 
 have happened on the iyth, according to the 
 papers, ten days ago. But then Jeanne had only 
 known it four days. 
 
 She looked at the set white face, and decided 
 it was too soon to mention such matters. Besides, 
 it was quite certain. He would have left every- 
 thing to his only sister. Jeanne would undoubt- 
 edly be very rich. 
 
 "You look so tired that I don't think I ought 
 to stay," said Cecilia, with a sudden outburst 
 of renewed sympathy. " I only came to tell you 
 how very, very sorry I was. Good-bye, dear. 
 If you want me you have only to drop me a line, 
 or send a message. " 
 
 She pressed her friend's hand, and went away 
 at last. 
 
 The Duke did not come. 
 
 Jeanne knew that he called each morning and 
 evening at the house, and asked how she was, and 
 whether there were anything to be done that he 
 could do but he never asked to see her. 
 
 "Nobody understands but Cousin Denis," 
 thought Jeanne. 
 
 She remembered, but almost as a dream, that 
 hurried journey from Challonsleigh, and that he 
 had put her alone into the carriage with Dunham, 
 and travelled to town himself in another com-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 315 
 
 partment, that she might be free to indulge her 
 grief unseen. 
 
 Throughout the journey it was he who watched 
 over her comfort, and yet never obtruded his 
 presence, and scarcely spoke to her. 
 
 But every thought of the Duke brought with 
 it a fresh access of self-reproach. 
 
 "How could I! How could I! Rejoicing in 
 the sunshine, so full of brightness and happiness, 
 light-hearted and my boy in that burning 
 desert, marching to meet his death. I did n't 
 think, I never thought. He has been in so many 
 dangers, and come so safely through. " 
 
 That her self-reproaches were unreasonable 
 made them no less severe. 
 
 They poisoned the secret well of her happiness, 
 and rendered the recollections of those bright 
 spring days intolerable. 
 
 She never doubted but that the Duke divined 
 her thoughts. His perceptions were so acute; 
 his sympathies so delicate he was gentle as a 
 woman ; far more gentle, indeed, than any woman 
 she had ever known. 
 
 She put her hands to her eyes as though to shut 
 out the memory of the grave fair face, the kind 
 blue eyes, the expression of melancholy raillery 
 as of one who for a long time had only looked on 
 at life half amused, half mournful. 
 
 Ah, how could she think of Denis what was 
 he to her when her twin brother, comrade, and
 
 316 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 idol of a lifetime, who had no place for any one 
 but her in all his brave, faithful, loyal heart lay 
 dead in Africa! 
 
 A little parcel with a note was brought to her. 
 It was addressed in the Duke's clear, minute 
 handwriting. 
 
 " I am sending you a miniature. I think it may 
 comfort you, even though I fear it must pain you 
 to have it now. Anything you do not like in it 
 can be altered. I took the photograph you gave 
 me to an artist some time ago, and gave him what 
 directions I could from your descriptions, but it 
 only came home last night. 
 
 " DENIS." 
 
 She tore off the wrappers and looked at the 
 miniature. It was like and unlike, as such paint- 
 ings usually are. 
 
 The eyes were the eyes of Louis; but the face, 
 copied exactly from the last photographs he had 
 sent, was the face of a graver and older Louis than 
 she had ever known, and the moustache made it 
 almost as the face of a stranger. 
 
 " And yet, oh yet, how glad I am to have it! I 
 will put it with the other miniatures," she said; 
 and suddenly realised, with a dreadful pang, 
 that Louis was not numbered with that company 
 of the dead, whose portraits, cold and smiling,
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 317 
 
 hung round the walls of the silent gallery 
 above. 
 
 She felt alone indeed. 
 
 She realised as she had never realised be- 
 fore that Louis had been to her, in all her 
 past life, the only reality in a world of shadows. 
 Among the figures who had moved upon the 
 horizon of her limited view, the only one who 
 counted. 
 
 The discovery comes to many of us whose 
 horizons may be crowded with thronging figures, 
 that very few of them are real, so far as we 
 personally are concerned. What the others think 
 may be interesting, or amusing, or false or true, 
 but it does n't really matter to us; for they move 
 across our lives like phantoms in a dream. They 
 talk to us and we reply, the words mean nothing ; 
 we meet them and smile, and part and smile 
 again; for our little landscape is neither the 
 brighter nor the duller for their absence. They 
 suffer, and we would help them if we could, for 
 who would see humanity suffer and not weep? 
 Yet our heart of hearts will never bleed for 
 them. 
 
 But for the few, how different! 
 
 Their lightest word, how fraught with meaning 
 for us; their thoughts revealed how sacred; 
 their companionship, how satisfying to our lonely 
 souls; and the silence of their absence how 
 unbearable!
 
 3i8 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 And when those beloved spirits vanish, in 
 their turn, from our horizon into the Unknown 
 whither we may not yet follow then how that 
 horizon darkens; how hopeless the longing 
 how drear- the outlook how empty the world!
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE LAST LETTER 
 
 "WHILST venturing to express to you my deep 
 sympathy for the terrible blow you have sustained," 
 wrote Mr. Valentine, "/ wish to inform you that 
 I have directed that a letter addressed to you, and 
 entrusted to my care by your poor brother, should 
 be immediately delivered to you by special mes- 
 senger from our firm. As regards his will, which 
 is also in our charge, it will be handed to you, as 
 executrix, whenever you choose to apply for it; but 
 I hope to be in London twenty- four hours after you 
 receive this letter, when I will, if you please, call 
 upon you immediately, as I have news of great 
 importance to communicate to you; for which I 
 have reason to hope, that your poor brother's letter 
 will, in some measure, prepare you. " 
 
 Jeanne, white to the lips, broke the seal of the 
 enclosure, which accompanied Mr. Valentine's 
 letter, forwarded from Bedford Row by special 
 messenger, in accordance with the directions 
 mentioned. 
 
 The envelope within was addressed to her 
 319
 
 320 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 by that hand which would write no more. She 
 opened the letter: it was dated from Cape-town, 
 August, 1900, nearly three years ago. 
 
 " You will never read this letter, my darling 
 Jeanne, unless something happens to me before I 
 see you to explain why I have acted as I have done, 
 and kept it secret from my beloved little sister. 
 
 "/ have married Anne-Marie-Charlotte de Cour- 
 set; the only daughter of the late Henri de C our set, 
 and the only living descendant of Charles, the 
 Chevalier de C our set who remained in the French 
 Navy when our great-grandfather emigrated to Eng- 
 land; and if you would know what she is like in 
 face, look at the miniature of our dear Chanoinesse; 
 but if in character, why, she is ' tres devote' (and 
 you may look that up in the dictionary, my wee 
 little Jeanne] and also, in her own sweet way, a bit 
 of a mystic; and so beyond the power of such an 
 ordinary mortal as I to fathom I can but worship 
 and wonder. 
 
 "Her father was kitted (or died of his wounds') 
 fighting at Boshof last April by the side of poor de 
 Vittebois-Mareuil; and as soon as she heard of his 
 death she came out to South Africa to find his grave; 
 defying all the difficulties, and overcoming every 
 obstacle placed in her way. But when you know 
 her you will understand. While others think (or 
 talk) she acts. 
 
 "She heard of a de C our set in hospital at Kim-
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 321 
 
 berley, and inspired by God knows what wild hope 
 of finding that there had been some mistake that 
 her father might be yet alive she flew there on the 
 wings of love and hope oh what an angel come to 
 seek a poor mortal, she seemed to me, and how do 
 you suppose, that having found her, I could ever 
 let her go? . . . / was nearly convalescent, and I 
 got leave and slipped away here, and married her 
 quietly in the chapel of the convent where she was 
 staying, and before the French Consul. . . . 
 
 " Now if I had written this piece of news straight 
 away to you, as I was sorely tempted to do / know 
 as well as you do, that between Uncle Roberts's 
 horror at my marrying a foreigner and a Roman 
 Catholic, and your anger perhaps, who knows f 
 with your poor unstable brother, who has broken his 
 solemn promise to you, and he knows it and deplores 
 his weakness on his knees, and begs you to forgive 
 him, though I am afraid he doesn't repent as he 
 should between all these conflicting emotions, and 
 the certainty of your preconceived dislike for my 
 wife, and your conviction of her complete unworthi- 
 ness, (which you know and can't deny you are 
 feeling at this moment) I wonder how much chance 
 of a welcome my beautiful saint and queen would 
 have had from you all ? 
 
 "Not to mention that the life at Coed-Ithel and 
 
 the ways of our beloved uncle, would completely 
 
 bewilder and upset her, without me to act as a 
 
 buffer, so to speak. For tJiough she is perfectly 
 
 ai
 
 322 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 simple, yet she is also, ' tres grande dame,' in her 
 way, my beautiful Anne-Marie. 
 
 "If on another hand you and Uncle Roberts hear 
 that I have a wife and she does n't come to see you 
 why what another hullabaloo once more. So all 
 things considered in my poor crazy brain half 
 crazy with joy and pride to have won the one woman 
 on earth whom God created for me alone / have 
 determined that silence is golden. . . . 
 
 "But in case bad luck steps in, as it has an ugly 
 knack of doing in South Africa just now, and pre- 
 vents me from carrying out my happy plan of 
 fetching my darling back from her own country, (to 
 which, alas, she has already flown) and hiding her 
 in London until I have talked over both you and 
 dear old Uncle Roberts, (and you know I could do 
 it, my silly little Jeanne) why then why then I 
 have no resource but to write my confession now and 
 send it to safe keeping, that you may hear it at least 
 from me, dead or alive, and from nobody else. 
 
 "So if you ever read this, my Jeanne dear, I 
 shan't be here to know whether you forgive me or 
 not, which makes me all the more certain that you 
 will do it and that you will remember that my wife 
 is part of me, and the best part; and that I love and 
 reverence her above everything and everybody in this 
 world; and you will take her to your heart, and never 
 be jealous nor sick nor sorry concerning my love 
 for her; because Love is Love, and we cannot help 
 its mastery even if we would.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 323 
 
 " With this, I draw up a short will. Ah me, 
 ok me, that I should have so little to have I But I 
 hope there will be a few hundreds over out of my 
 thousand pounds' insurance, after paying my 
 debts, and buying Uncle Roberts his horse; and 
 I appoint you sole executrix, for I know naught 
 of French formalities and have no wish to make 
 legal difficulties to add expense; and I divide all 
 my property equally between the two who are nearest 
 and dearest to my heart, my darling sister and my 
 beloved wife. But my debts I leave to my little 
 Jeanne d'Arc alone, for I know it would go to her 
 heart that any other should pay them: and for the 
 honour of the family, as you used to say when you 
 gave me your new desk, etc., to take to school, and 
 kept my shabby old things in its stead, the wretched 
 provision I leave my wife must be as large as we 
 can make it; though, thank God, she is not dependent 
 on that, but has a competence of her own, and lives 
 in great state and luxury with her old servants on 
 about twenty thousand francs a year. Her home 
 is not far from the Chdteau de Courset! Which 
 now belongs to a good little bourgeois (Oh if I could 
 hear her benevolent tones) of the Boulonnais. I 
 write her address on the back of this letter. 
 
 "Now, of course such a pauper as I had no 
 business to marry at all, but blame me who will, 
 what care I, so that you are on my side? For 
 with such love to inspire me, I should be a fool 
 and an idiot not to get on, and I shall but strive
 
 324 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 the harder, for her sake, to do my absolute best 
 with the chances God gives me. Feeling as fit 
 and as jolly as I do now, for I am practically all 
 right again and hope to get back to duty at once, 
 it is difficult to write very seriously, my Jeannie 
 dear, and after all, why should I try ? If I am 
 killed, I am killed and there 's an end of it. All 
 the best and bravest fellows I know, have led the way. 
 " ' End thy journey in content, just as an 
 olive falls off when it is ripe, blessing Nature who 
 produced it, and thanking the tree on which 
 it grew.' 
 
 " Which reminds me that I gave my copy of M. 
 Antoninus, translated, to a Boer who was wounded 
 and a prisoner, a fine fellow and able to read 
 English, and he said to me a few days later: ' Cap- 
 tain, this man has written down all my thoughts.' 
 About the best and simplest criticism old Marcus 
 Aurelius would have wished, I should think, to 
 evoke. 
 
 "But I try once more to put myself in your 
 place in case you read this, and fear terribly to 
 cause you sadness, my little sister. Somehow I 
 can't bring myself to fear anything for her; she 
 is too far above me, in the calm certainty of faith 
 which is hers, and at which I look on amazed, but 
 reverent I hope; as who would not be, that had 
 watched an angel pray ? 
 
 " Anne-Marie has a lion-heart; but you, my little 
 Jeanne, I would fain bid you pluck up courage,
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 325 
 
 and remember that the longest life can last but a 
 few years; a few more, or a few less, what does 
 it signify ? 
 
 "/ believe it is D' Israeli who says 'grief is the 
 agony of a moment: indulgence in it is the mistake 
 of a lifetime.' 
 
 " Take all the joy that comes to you in life and 
 be thankful for it; and if you want to know what 
 are my feelings why, I would like you never to 
 go into mourning for me, and to laugh whenever 
 you mention my name, but above all to know that, 
 though I am Anne-Marie's devoted lover and 
 servant and husband to command, I am yet also, 
 for ever and ever, your brother that loves you. 
 
 "LOUIS DE COURSET." 
 
 Oh, were they only written words, or was it 
 her brother's merry, tender, mocking voice that 
 rang in her ears as she read? Everything was 
 changed. Her grief was no longer that pure and 
 undivided anguish of sorrow all her own. 
 
 Love, pity, and jealousy, grief and disappoint- 
 ment, all had their share in the tumult of fierce 
 emotion which was beyond anything Jeanne's 
 gentle breast had ever known. 
 
 Louis was not only her brother, her hero and 
 idol, her twin-spirit, he was also the husband of 
 Anne-Marie. 
 
 While she had thought of him as dying with 
 only her image in his thoughts, only her pictured
 
 326 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 face in his haversac, only her love the love 
 which she believed to be all in all to him in 
 his faithful heart; his last vision had been that 
 of his "saint and queen, " of her whom he loved 
 and reverenced "above everything and every- 
 body in this world." And her name, perhaps, 
 the last upon, his dying lips. How much had 
 she known of Louis, after all? Of the Louis who 
 had kept this secret from her, whilst she had 
 poured forth her very soul in her faithful letters 
 to him? Of the boy who had become a man, 
 during the long years of his absence? 
 
 He had failed in loyalty, failed failed thought 
 Jeanne, gazing into the silent empty room in that 
 dry-eyed desolate misery that hurts the very 
 soul, unlike the tender sorrow which can be 
 poured forth in tears, softening and healing as it 
 flows. 
 
 In proportion to her unthinking and absolute 
 trust in him; in proportion to the idolatry with 
 which she had regarded him, and the simplicity 
 which had enabled her to retain her childish 
 belief in his infallibility she suffered now. 
 
 Because he had broken his word to her, because 
 he had withheld his confidence, because he was 
 not the Louis half soldier, half archangel of 
 her dreams; but a mere man after all. 
 
 The love of a sister for a brother stands apart 
 from every other love in the world, if but for this 
 cause that it is the only affection which can truly
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 327 
 
 survive and withstand the administration of home- 
 truths. 
 
 The most tender of parents are well aware that 
 such must be sparingly administered indeed, if 
 they are to retain the love and the confidence of 
 their offspring; whilst if not Nature, at least 
 civilisation forbids a child to communicate his 
 opinion of their merits or demerits to the authors 
 of his being. 
 
 The most romantically attached husbands and 
 wives know that, if the mirror of truth he held up 
 too often to the weaknesses of human nature, the 
 illusion on which all romance is primarily based 
 must vanish. The lover dare not blame his mis- 
 tress over-much, lest love should be drowned in 
 resentment; nor must the friend treat his friend's 
 feelings roughly lest he lose his friendship. 
 
 But the brother may say what he will to his 
 sister ; may deride her absurdities, label her faults, 
 repel her caresses, scatter her prejudices; and if 
 she loves him, she but clings the closer. 
 
 The relationship, at its best, is the perfection 
 of human comradeship; with all life's earliest 
 memories to sanctify it, and every hope and am- 
 bition for the future to lend it an interest which 
 can only increase with years. 
 
 Jeanne loved and blamed and pitied Louis all 
 in one but like lightning, her resentment flashed 
 upon the image of Anne-Marie.
 
 328 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 It seemed to her that she had always known of 
 this woman's existence; she felt as though a long- 
 dreaded enemy had arisen at last and snatched 
 her brother from her; so that he was no longer 
 her own, even in death. 
 
 Ah, but what were his words ? his words that 
 he had written with such careless certainty that, 
 blame him who would, his sister would be on his 
 side : 
 
 "So if you ever read this. ... 7 shan't be here 
 to know whether you forgive me or not, which makes 
 me all the more certain that you will do it. " 
 
 " Oh, with all my heart and soul I forgive you, 
 Louis," cried Jeanne, weeping. 
 
 " And that you will remember that my wife is 
 part of me and the best part. . . . and you will 
 take her to your heart, and never, never be jealous 
 nor sick nor sorry concerning my love for her; for 
 Love is Love, and we cannot helb its mastery even 
 if we would. . . . ' 
 
 There came to Jeanne, suddenly, a memory 
 of halcyon days, scarcely past; of a radiance she 
 could not deny to those bright April hours; of 
 her bitter self-reproach for the happiness she had 
 dared indulge whilst Louis was in danger; nay, 
 whilst Death had already claimed him for its 
 own. Death which he feared so little; for it was 
 not possible for any one, knowing Louis, to think
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 329 
 
 of him as fearing death, apart from his own words 
 penned in the fulness of life and young love. 
 
 He had always thrown himself eagerly into 
 his varied pursuits, working strenuously at 
 whatever lay before him, and never pausing to 
 count results. 
 
 Was this philosophy? thought little Jeanne, 
 or was it carelessness? Did it mean that he 
 thought too little or too much to fear death? 
 
 She could not tell. Human nature is apt to 
 undervalue the greatness of even those fellow- 
 creatures whom it holds dearest. Jeanne realised 
 humbly that of the inner depths of Louis she had 
 known little since his earliest childhood. There 
 were subjects, of which, boy-like, he had seldom 
 spoken; for which perhaps, the little sister had 
 thought him wanting in reverence; but it ap- 
 peared that, at last, this quality had been aroused 
 in her light-hearted brother. 
 
 He had "watched an angel pray," and the 
 angel had been Anne-Marie. 
 
 " Remember that my wife is part of me and the 
 best part." 
 
 She put her lips to the letter, and locked it 
 away with his miniature; looking at the face of 
 Louis, and reading now, as it were, the meaning 
 of that new purpose and determination written 
 on his handsome brow. 
 
 Then slowly, slowly she moved to the escritoire
 
 330 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 and sat down before it, and took up a pen 
 to write to Anne-Marie. 
 
 With the very action a little comfort came; 
 a little lightening of the darkness of her grief. 
 There was something to be done for Louis after 
 all. 
 
 It was in every sense a difficult letter to write, 
 for in spite of her studies, poor Jeanne's French 
 was as yet very far from perfect. But with her 
 grammar and her dictionary beside her, she 
 toiled over it, through the hours of the long, 
 bright afternoon, patiently making one copy after 
 another. 
 
 It was Anne-Marie's home to which she was 
 inviting her to come, since Louis had said that 
 they were to share and share alike in all the 
 property he left behind; though little dreaming, 
 when he wrote, how great and rich a property it 
 was to be. 
 
 "Si vous viendrez," wrote Jeanne, in her best 
 round hand, and most surprising French, " je vous 
 prendrai & mon coeur comme il a ecrit, et je ferai 
 ma mieux etre une soeur & vous. Mais c'est je 
 qui va payer ses dettes ; pour il les a fie a moi. " 
 
 As she finished at last, and paused, pen in hand, 
 to consider doubtfully how to address the en- 
 velope to her brother's wife the door behind 
 her opened. 
 
 The windows of the morning-room were thrown
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 331 
 
 up to their fullest extent, letting in the freshness 
 of the May air, and the noise of the season's 
 traffic; and thus she had not heard the bustle 
 and commotion of voices, in the hall outside; 
 but she heard very distinctly indeed the announce- 
 ment which Hewitt made, almost at the top of 
 his voice, in a tone of mingled wonder, incredulit", 
 and triumph, 
 
 "The Marquis de Courset."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 LE MARQUIS DE COURSET 
 
 Life must be reaped like the ripe ears of corn; 
 One man is born, another dies. 1 ! 
 
 EURIPIDES. 
 
 A LITTLE boy, scarcely more than a baby unmis- 
 takably a little French boy, in a white tunic 
 tied just above his knees with a dull white sash 
 stood on the threshold of the morning-room. 
 But Jeanne, in her bewilderment, scarcely looked 
 at him, or took in the significance of the announce- 
 ment. She was overcome by the certainty the 
 instant conviction that thrilled through her whole 
 being that the tall figure behind the child, in 
 deepest mourning of crape draperies and flowing 
 veil, was Anne-Marie. 
 
 Anne-Marie to whom she had been writing all 
 the afternoon. 
 
 "You did not attend us, Mademoiselle?" 
 said a sweet voice, in hesitating, careful English. 
 "But I did write, I wrote to the lawyer, to 
 M. Valentine, that it was to-day we would arrive. " 
 
 The wife and sister of Louis looked at each other ; 
 332
 
 THE LONELY LADY 333 
 
 each, woman-like, divining the impression she 
 had made. 
 
 " She is not like her brother, " thought the wife. 
 
 "She is older than Louis," thought Jeanne. 
 
 Anne-Marie, with a hand on either shoulder of 
 the little boy, waited proudly it seemed, for 
 she had a noble and majestic face and figure in 
 the doorway. 
 
 "Won't you come in?" faltered Jeanne, with 
 beating heart. 
 
 It was not the greeting that she had pictured 
 to herself that afternoon. But the opportunity 
 had come upon her so suddenly that she could 
 not rise to it. 
 
 "Mais oui, " said Anne-Marie, with a winning 
 gentleness and a dignity indescribable, "if you 
 welcome us, we will come in. " 
 
 Then as Jeanne's face grew whiter and whiter, 
 instead of expressing the kindness for which she 
 had hoped, she clasped her hands together and 
 cried in distress: 
 
 "Vous avez rec,u sa lettre?" 
 
 "Yes, yes I have his letter," said Jeanne. 
 
 She made an agitated step forward. But she 
 was faint and sick with long weeping, and she had 
 scarcely touched solid food for days, from sheer 
 inability to swallow. 
 
 She felt herself failing, knew a strong soft arm 
 about her, and heard a calm authoritative voice 
 issuing orders in broken English.
 
 334 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Her unconsciousness was momentary ; a piercing 
 cry of "Maman, Maman," broke the spell, and 
 Jeanne found herself on the sofa, and perceived 
 that Anne-Marie was beside her, with the little 
 boy clinging to her skirt, and burying his face 
 in her black draperies. 
 
 Jeanne sat up, and put both hands confusedly 
 to her head as one awaked from sleep. 
 
 She looked at the fair mournful face beside her. 
 
 It was the face of the Chanoinesse in the minia- 
 ture, grown older, sadder, and graver. 
 
 The marked eyebrows, expressive hazel eyes, 
 and curved beautiful mouth were the same, and 
 the raven hair was drawn from the same broad 
 brow. But the Anne-Marie of the miniature 
 simpered and ogled, and looked merry and arch 
 and frivolous all at once. 
 
 This Anne-Marie was serious and noble of 
 expression; the shade on her face was too deep 
 to have been cast by a recent sorrow, however 
 severe. Patience and resignation looked forth 
 from her serene, beautiful eyes. 
 
 "I demand your pardon, mademoiselle," said 
 Anne-Marie, "to have come upon you too sud- 
 denly." Her voice was sad, and calm. "But 
 it was his directions that I followed. He said, 
 if anything happens, wait two days, that she may 
 have the letter. Then write to M. Valentine 
 that he may warn her of your coming; then go 
 to her, taking our son, and wait not. I did write;
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 335 
 
 I marked "private," as he bade me, upon the 
 letter, and so soon as I had these " she touched 
 her draperies, " I did come. It was soon ; indeed 
 terribly soon, to leave my house, and make the 
 journey. But what would you? He had desired 
 it, and I could but follow his wishes, and write to 
 M. Valentine to warn you, as he had said. " 
 
 "I was not warned," said Jeanne, faintly, 
 "but I see how it was your letter was marked 
 private, so it was not opened, but forwarded to Mr. 
 Valentine. He is abroad. And I did not know 
 I did not know " she cried piteously, "that 
 Louis had a son." 
 
 "Mr. Valentine knew," said Anne-Marie. 
 "Louis wrote to him of his marriage, and of his 
 son, when the news of his fortune came. But 
 he was even then sailing for the Somaliland, 
 which was, he told me, on his way home. He 
 had been silent so long he said he would wait yet 
 a little while to tell you all himself, that you 
 might understand. So he forbade also that Mr 
 Valentine should speak his secret." 
 
 She looked anxiously at Jeanne. 
 
 " It is terrible for you to learn it thus, " said 
 the sweet voice, unsteadily. " I see it well. But 
 he said that his son would console you for all. " 
 
 She lifted the child on to her knee, and for the 
 first time Jeanne saw the little face. 
 
 The baby looked at her with great blue eyes 
 fringed with black lashes, and they were the
 
 336 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 eyes of Louis ; he smiled roguishly though timidly 
 and the smile was the smile of Louis. 
 
 "Louis!" she breathed, afraid to frighten 
 him. 
 
 "Dis ton nom, mon fils " said Anne-Marie, 
 "dis le done vite. " 
 
 "Petit Jean." 
 
 " II s'appelle Jean-Louis d' apres sa tante 
 et son pere," said Anne-Marie, softly. "C'est 
 son pere qui 1' a voulu. Tu vas nous pardonner, 
 n' est-ce-pas, ma soeurf" and she held out her 
 hand with a gracious, almost royal, gesture, to 
 Jeanne, as who should say, Could woman grant 
 you greater compliment than to let her only son 
 be called by your name? 
 
 Jeanne rose from the sofa, not to fling herself 
 into the arms of her sister-in-law, as the wife of 
 Louis, marvelling over the coldness of the English 
 temperament, perhaps expected, but to put into 
 the fair hand a freshly written letter. 
 
 "Oh, read it, please read it," she cried wildly, 
 "for though it is written in bad, bad French, it 
 will tell you all all that I do not know how to 
 say." 
 
 As Anne-Marie read, with wet eyes, and the 
 tenderest of smiles flitting across her beautiful 
 mouth, while she pressed the little round head 
 of petit Jean to her bosom, Jeanne felt as though 
 the strain she had been enduring were suddenly
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 337 
 
 relaxed; a subtle sense of relief and consolation 
 became apparent to her. 
 
 The motherly presence of Anne-Marie, the baby 
 face of the little boy with the roguish smile and 
 black eye-lashes, seemed to pervade that mourn- 
 ful empty room, so that it was mournful and 
 empty no longer. 
 
 The thought came to her that her oft-expressed 
 wish had been (however sorrowfully) granted. 
 She was not alone, but the member of a family. 
 The little family of mother and son the ever 
 sacred relationship belonged to her because it 
 belonged to Louis. 
 
 " Oh, come, come to my room and rest after 
 your long journey, and let me bring you tea or 
 whatever you would like, " cried Jeanne, kneeling 
 to embrace the smiling child as tenderly as the 
 most impassioned foreigner could have desired. 
 "And let me tell them to get his nursery ready 
 for petit Jean, and your room for you; for it is 
 Louis's house that you are in, and you have come 
 home, Anne-Marie." 
 
 Jeanne presently sought Dunham with her 
 explanation, satisfying the old woman's curi- 
 osity as speedily and briefly as possible, and 
 without giving herself time to dwell on her own 
 mortification as she explained: 
 
 "Yes, yes, it is my brother's wife and his 
 little boy, and Mr. Valentine knew all about it, 
 
 22
 
 338 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 but he he wanted to bring them to me himself, 
 so he would not write to tell me he had married 
 in South Africa; but I have a letter telling me 
 all, Mrs. Dunham. There is no mystery about 
 any of it. We have only to think how to welcome 
 her and make her feel she is at home in his house, " 
 she said breathlessly, "and the little boy 
 
 "I never had no doubts from the moment I 
 set eyes on her, " said Dunham, whose suspicions 
 of the intruders had vanished almost instantly 
 on beholding the amount of the baggage, the 
 dignity of the lady, and the respectability of her 
 suite. A man, and a maid; besides the nurse 
 resplendent in cap, cloak, and long ribbons, 
 carrying the little boy. 
 
 The news of the arrival had flown over the house 
 like wild-fire, and the various members of the 
 establishment were crowding and peeping on 
 the stairs. 
 
 Only Hewitt maintained his immovable com- 
 posure, and stated his conviction of an imposture. 
 
 "To a fortune like this, claimants is sure to 
 turn up, " said the great man, rendered suspicious 
 by his knowledge of the world, and his extensive 
 reading of the newspapers. 
 
 Dunham's hurried interview with her young 
 lady took place in the hall, and in whispers, lest 
 she should be overheard by the strange ser- 
 vants, who were waiting patiently in the back- 
 ground for further instructions ; but Dunham had
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 339 
 
 waited, it appeared, for no instructions, and 
 acted in contempt of Hewitt's doubts, on her own 
 responsibility. 
 
 "I 've told them to prepare my poor lady's 
 room, Miss Jane. Me and Mrs. Pyke we felt 
 it must be so. We couldn't ask her to climb the 
 stairs to the room you got ready for the poor 
 young gentleman. Indeed it would n't be right; 
 nor suitable." 
 
 She curtseyed to Anne-Marie, as she appeared 
 in the doorway. 
 
 "Where are my servants?" said Anne- Marie, 
 smiling at Dunham, but always with her sweet 
 and gentle air of command. "Alphonse!" 
 
 "Me voila, Madame la Marquise," said a 
 plaintive voice, and a small clean-shaven, black- 
 haired, blue-chinned valet appeared, and bowed 
 to his mistress and to Jeanne. Anne-Marie 
 placed her son in his arms as a matter of course; 
 but M. le Marquis was snatched from them jeal- 
 ously by his nou-nou, who started forward from 
 her seat in the background. 
 
 A violent altercation immediately arose be- 
 tween the two, in French too rapid for Jeanne's 
 comprehension, but their mistress silenced 
 them. 
 
 "Taisez vous done, je vous en prie. " 
 
 " Bien, Madame la Marquise. " 
 
 "The maid is upstairs, muddarm, " said Dun- 
 ham, with subdued zeal ; imitating the accents of
 
 340 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 the others as best she could, and dropping her 
 old-fashioned curtsey in great agitation. 
 
 No doubts nor hesitations, no reflections upon 
 foreign titles, nor contempt of foreign nobility 
 were here. Jeanne had been nobody in her 
 brother's house; even her father's name was 
 ignored, and she was only Miss Jeanne. But 
 from the moment she set foot in it, Anne-Marie 
 was indisputably and instantly the mistress of 
 the house; she was Madame la Marquise, a 
 great lady taking homage as her due, and issuing 
 orders calmly as her undoubted right. 
 
 The slighted dignity of the ancienne noblesse 
 was avenged in her person. It never occurred to 
 her remotely that she could be anybody but the 
 Marquise de Courset; she the wife (alas! the 
 widow) of the head of the family, of the young 
 chieftain of her father's race ; a race still honoured, 
 still remembered in its glorious traditions, in the 
 country of the Boulonnais where Anne-Marie had 
 been born and brought up, and where she held 
 her own dignified and respected position, though 
 she was not rich, and almost alone in the world. 
 
 "The property of Madame la Marquise," said 
 Alphonse, who spoke a little English, being the 
 son of a courier, and who added to it as speedily 
 as possible, that he might boast the more, "has 
 been in the famille de Courset for thousands of 
 years- so long as France itself has existed have
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 34 i 
 
 there been de Coursets dans mon pays a moi. 
 It is my ancestor who still superintends the 
 menage of Madame la Marquise, and my grand- 
 father her son, who does the garden and cares 
 for the cows. For I too am of the Boulonnais, " 
 he said with great satisfaction. 
 
 He was inordinately jealous, and permitted no 
 one but himself to answer the electric bell, which 
 now sounded with considerable frequency in the 
 ears of the astonished household. 
 
 It was extraordinary to perceive how much 
 change, and bustle, and commotion, the installa- 
 tion of one little boy created. 
 
 Jeanne forgot entirely the sad and gloomy 
 memories associated with poor Miss Marney's 
 bedroom, when she entered presently to find 
 housemaids hurrying in and out with mattresses 
 to be aired; Alphonse unstrapping and setting 
 up a little cot; and Mrs. Pyke (shaking more 
 than ever, but determined to have her say) 
 sending hither and thither for fresh curtains, 
 and herself carrying to the wash-stand an armful 
 of the finest towels her linen-room could boast. 
 
 Before the fire the baby's bath was laid upon 
 a snowy blanket, edged with gay blue ribbon, 
 and on his nou-nou's lap sat petit Jean, amused 
 and interested at the commotion about him, 
 with a little face bright as the May sunshine 
 turned upon them all, and blue eyes shining 
 like stars, in their setting of long black lashes.
 
 342 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Yet the thought could not but return to her 
 Is this all? this little, laughing, unconscious creat- 
 ure all that is left to us of Louis ? 
 
 Of Louis with his tried strength and hard-won 
 successes; his soldiering and his learning; his 
 knowledge born of hard work in camp and field 
 and study; and all the thousand experiences that 
 go towards the making of a noble manhood. 
 
 Is that all wiped out and all to begin again, 
 as it were, from the very beginning, in the person 
 of his son? 
 
 But in the cheerfulness of the room such reflec- 
 tions could obtain no mastery over the healthy, 
 natural instinct of womanhood, of wonder and 
 delight in a baby. 
 
 In a moment Jeanne was on her knees before 
 him, worshipping with the rest. 
 
 "Thou wilt remain with him here while he 
 sleeps. Thou wilt not leave him for an instant, 
 lest he wake in a strange place, and have fear, 
 Madeleine?" 
 
 "Soyez tranquille, Madame la Marquise." 
 
 Downstairs Hewitt, disgusted to nausea with 
 the folly of the feminine portion of the household, 
 maintained his strictly neutral attitude towards 
 the invaders. 
 
 "We don't know who they are, nor what 
 claims they have," he said, sternly, "and till 
 something is proved, I for one, sets my face against 
 all this fuss and turning of the place upside down ;
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 343 
 
 and so I shall tell Mr. Valentine, as soon as ever 
 I sets eyes on him. What 's a little boy? One 
 would think no one had ever seen such a thing 
 before; and all the women ready to eat him up. 
 It makes me feel savage. Walking in as though 
 the whole place belongs to him. " 
 
 " And so it will surely, if he 's the poor Captain's 
 son," ventured William. 
 
 " Who knows whether he 's the Captain's son, 
 or anything about them? Dropped from the 
 clouds in a four-wheeler," said Hewitt, gloomily. 
 
 But the Irish footman was carried away by 
 the excitement around him, and secretly defied 
 his chief: lending every assistance in his power 
 to Alphonse; and conversing with him in broken 
 English under the impression that he was thus 
 picking up the French language, with surprising 
 ease and rapidity. 
 
 Anne-Marie put aside all thoughts of her 
 fatigue and, perhaps, of her desire to be alone, 
 and to think and to weep in her own chamber, 
 and sat up talking with Jeanne half the night 
 when all the household had gone to bed, and 
 when petit Jean lay sleeping in his cot beside the 
 fire. 
 
 They talked in whispers, not to disturb his 
 peaceful slumbers; and thus Jeanne learnt that 
 her sister-in-law had outraged the opinion of her 
 neighbours, and even her own by leaving her
 
 344 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 retirement in the first hours of her widowhood 
 to obey her husband's behests, and seek his sister. 
 
 "But he thought so little of les convenances," 
 she said, " was I to regard them above his wishes? " 
 
 She had a gift for terse and picturesque de- 
 scription, and presently Jeanne felt as though 
 she realised the whole entourage of Anne-Marie's 
 long girlhood her home in the French village 
 her visits to Paris with her beloved father. 
 
 "For I was almost thirty years old when I 
 married," she said with great simplicity and 
 frankness. "What would you? We received, 
 naturally, many applications. Mais je n'ai ja- 
 mais voulu quitter papa! Et enfin, c' est lui 
 qui m' a quittee. " 
 
 Her father had only lived for his motherless 
 daughter, but he had the friendship of a lifetime 
 for the gallant de Villebois-Mareuil, and being 
 likewise unable to conquer the fighting instincts 
 of his race, had chosen to accompany him to 
 South Africa. 
 
 "Papa had fifty years; but what would you? 
 He was persuaded in spite of all that one could 
 say that his experience would be the more valuable 
 to the Boers; and his health was perfect. " 
 
 In a few words she set before Jeanne the diffi- 
 culties and fatigues and disappointments of her 
 own later journey, undertaken in defiance of all 
 warnings bestowed, and continued in the face 
 of all rebuffs and refusals.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 345 
 
 She described, unfaltering, that first meeting 
 with Louis, gaunt and haggard from enteric 
 fever (and of that, too, Jeanne knew nothing); 
 their mutual attraction; her loyalty and af- 
 fection aroused for the head of that ancient 
 family, of which she had believed herself to be 
 the last mournful representative; their love and 
 hasty wedding. 
 
 "That I should have married thus! but 
 again, what would you have?" said Anne-Marie, 
 "in war there is no time for ceremony; and he 
 was not one to be denied. " 
 
 Jeanne knew very well that Louis was not 
 one to be denied, and that his influence was 
 paramount over those who loved him. 
 
 Of all these things Anne-Marie spoke, but 
 of her sorrow not at all. She could no more 
 have helped being silent over this than Jeanne 
 could have helped babbling tenderly and tear- 
 fully of hers. And yet it would have been hard 
 to say which of these two women loved Louis 
 the best.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 ANNE-MARIE 
 
 THE Duchess of Monaghan was almost beside 
 herself with indignation when she heard, some 
 days later, of the appearance of the dead soldier's 
 widow and child at 99 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 Her feelings were such that her son could with 
 difficulty restrain her from proceeding at once 
 to the house, and then and there forcibly denounc- 
 ing them as impostors. 
 
 "Is it likely that if the poor young fellow were 
 really married, his own sister should know nothing 
 of it? People of this kind always turn up when 
 a large fortune is in question. Look at the 
 Claimant! There is a case in point. And that 
 poor girl knows nothing of the world we live in, 
 nothing at all. She will be doing something 
 foolish and quixotic, and ruining everybody, her- 
 self included, " said the Duchess, incoherently. 
 "Monaghan, you must speak out at once, and 
 put a stop to it. " 
 
 All her prudent reticence was lost in lively 
 apprehension, and even Denis could no longer be 
 
 346
 
 THE LONELY LADY 347 
 
 blind to the fact that his mother had detected 
 and shared his hopes for the future. 
 
 "I have no right to interfere," he said coldly. 
 
 " You ought to have a right by this time. And 
 you must see how terribly important it is. Three 
 hundred and sixty thousand pounds besides the 
 Marney collection, " said the incautious Duchess, 
 betraying herself afresh with every word she 
 spoke. " Surely even if her brother was married 
 he must have made a large provision for her, 
 after talking of dividing it all. Surely he must 
 have left a will of some kind. If not, if this 
 impostor succeeds in proving her claim, don't you 
 see that the widow and the son would get it all? " 
 she cried with tears in her eyes. "The trustees 
 would have no power to provide for the sister 
 that I can discover. She would have just nothing 
 at all. " 
 
 Denis did not explain to his parent that in such 
 case Jeanne would have exactly as much as he 
 had supposed her to possess when he had first 
 made up his mind to marry her if he could. 
 
 "I am so fond of her she is so exactly the 
 very person I should have chosen for my daughter, 
 that the blow would be doubly severe, " said the 
 poor Duchess, appealingly. "I cannot give up 
 my hopes yet. I cannot bear to think that all 
 our plans should be knocked on the head like 
 this, and the whole thing become impossible 
 utterly impossible, all in a moment. "
 
 348 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 But the Duke's fair face was inscrutable; and 
 she could not read his intentions there, try as 
 she might. 
 
 He escaped from her presence as soon as he 
 could, only to turn his footsteps in the direction 
 of Grosvenor Square. 
 
 On this occasion he did not merely enquire 
 after Jeanne, but also sent in a message to ask 
 whether she felt able to see him. 
 
 The answer was in the affirmative, and his 
 Grace was ushered immediately into the morning- 
 room. 
 
 The Duke had not seen Jeanne since that 
 hurried journey from Challonsleigh, a fortnight 
 ago. 
 
 He was shocked at the change in her appearance. 
 
 Her days and nights of weeping had banished 
 the pretty red colour from her cheeks, and 
 dimmed the soft brown eyes; and the outline of 
 the round face was perceptibly thinner. 
 
 He took her hand in silence; looking at her 
 with grave, concerned blue eyes. 
 
 "Cousin Jeanne, is this news true?" 
 
 "It is true, Cousin Denis. Louis married, 
 in the summer of 1900, in South Africa," she 
 said, "and his wife is here, and his son. And oh, 
 Cousin Denis, she is Anne-Marie. " 
 
 "Anne-Marie!" said the Duke, bewildered. 
 
 "You remember that I showed you the minia- 
 tures of my family of the de Coursets, " said
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 349 
 
 Jeanne wistfully, "and the poor Comtesse Anne- 
 Marie, the first prisoner of the Revolution?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I remember." 
 
 "Her brother Charles lived in France, and 
 married, and had children, but most of them 
 became monks or nuns. And this Anne-Marie 
 is the only living descendant. She is the daugh- 
 ter of the poor de Courset of whom Professor 
 Hogg- Watson told us, the one who was killed 
 at Boshof, by the side of General de Villebois- 
 Mareuil. " 
 
 "And she married Louis?" 
 
 "She went out to South Africa to find her 
 father's grave. Late last night we sat up talking, 
 and she told me of her long, long journey, and of 
 the difficulties she had but she seemed to think 
 nothing of them to get to Boshof. Every one 
 told her it would be impossible, but she said 
 nothing was impossible to a child who loved 
 her father. And and she heard of a de Courset 
 in hospital, and for one wild moment thought 
 there might he a mistake 
 
 "Poor thing." 
 
 "But she found Louis," said Jeanne, softly. 
 
 Her bitter feelings, so foreign to a gentle nature, 
 had all melted away under the pathos and simpli- 
 city of Anne-Marie's recital, and of her description 
 of Louis, wasted and suffering. 
 
 "He would not mention that fever to me 
 I thought him just at that time rather careless
 
 350 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 about writing regularly little thinking he was 
 ill and hiding it from me for fear I should be anx- 
 ious, " said Jeanne, for her loyalty had con- 
 quered her resentment. " She says if she had not 
 thought him dying she could not have stayed even 
 then; but she had told him who she was, and, 
 as he says in his letter to me how could he 
 let her go?" 
 
 Now that she had seen Anne-Marie, Jeanne 
 felt that she could picture it all to herself: the 
 hospital tent, and Louis, in his weakness and 
 weariness, suddenly transported out of his sur- 
 roundings by the vision of that beautiful, serene 
 face that embodied the romance of the past and 
 the present in one. 
 
 The Duke was silent. He felt that, however 
 romantic the marriage of Louis might have been, 
 his reticence towards his only sister, concerning 
 it, could not be explained away. 
 
 "Cousin Denis," said Jeanne, timidly, "I 
 am going, if you please, to fetch Anne-Marie. 
 She knows you are a cousin ; and I have explained 
 to her how very good you have been to me all 
 this time of my loneliness. I am sure she will 
 see you. She is so self-controlled, but I cannot 
 be like her, " said Jeanne, with a very watery smile. 
 "Indeed it would be very odd if I could, for 
 she is a most beautiful, stately person, just what 
 I should imagine a queen ought to be. She 
 likes to talk to me of Louis, and I like to talk
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 35 i 
 
 to her. But she never talks of of her own 
 sorrow, and yet and yet you cannot see her 
 and doubt that it is all her life. " 
 
 "If you are sure she would n't think me in- 
 trusive that it would not be too much for her, " 
 said the Duke, hesitating. 
 
 He had no wish to see Anne-Marie, but every 
 wish to please Jeanne. 
 
 " No, it is not too much for her. Mr. Valentine 
 came this morning, and she saw him, and we are 
 going together to his office to-morrow as he 
 wishes. " 
 
 "Was he aware of the marriage?" 
 
 "Yes, Louis wrote to him when he received 
 the news of his inheritance, and told him in con- 
 fidence of his marriage, and and that he 
 had a son. It was only I who did not know- 
 she said, flushing deeply, "and Uncle Roberts; and 
 we have not yet decided quite how to break it 
 to him. It might be best for me to go and tell 
 him, for letters are not much in his way. " 
 
 The Duke was silent again. He could not 
 express his feelings, but his face showed him 
 indignant for the mortification she bravely tried 
 to hide; and Jeanne divined his thoughts. 
 
 She went to her little desk, and opened it, and 
 brought out a worn blue envelope with a broken 
 seal. 
 
 "Cousin Denis," she said softly, "I would 
 show his last letter to no one in the world but
 
 352 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 you. But I cannot bear that you should mis- 
 understand Louis. You will see it was written 
 long ago. . . . just after he married. Read it 
 and' you will understand." 
 
 As she put it into his hand, he detained hers, 
 raised it to his lips, and kissed it. But the action 
 was so grave and so gentle that it was more an 
 expression of sympathy the first he had dared 
 to show her than of love. 
 
 " How was it I could ever have been so blind 
 so foolish as to look down upon him?" thought 
 Jeanne, colouring deeply as she left the room. 
 "He is always the same kind and noble, and 
 thoughtful of the feelings of others. Surely 
 everything that any woman in the world could 
 wish a man to be. " 
 
 And she went in search of Anne-Marie; delay- 
 ing her descent for a few moments, in order to 
 give Denis time to read the letter. 
 
 "It would be so much more pleasant, if M. le 
 Due will consent, that, since he is of our family, 
 he should conduct us to-morrow to the office 
 of this M. Valentine," said Anne-Marie, with 
 her little air of mingled persuasiveness and 
 command. "Is it not so, my sister?" 
 
 Jeanne assented. It was very clear to M. 
 le Due that she would consent to most things 
 that could be proposed by her sister-in-law. 
 
 He had not wished to see Anne-Marie, but
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 353 
 
 his prejudices were conquered before she had 
 even spoken. 
 
 She was, as Jeanne had said, at once so simple 
 and so stately. 
 
 No doubt her beauty counted for much in 
 the influence she exercised over all who approached 
 her; but still more, perhaps, her serene and digni- 
 fied sweetness of character, which was made mani- 
 fest in her whole bearing and expression. 
 
 But the faint purple shadows beneath the 
 beautiful hazel eyes suggested, nevertheless, to 
 the quick perceptions of the Duke, midnight 
 vigils, and a pillow watered with tears; the fair 
 complexion was almost unnaturally pale in 
 contrast to the black draperies. He divined 
 that the apparent self-command of the Marquise 
 was hardly won. 
 
 "Anything in the world that I can do " he 
 said. 
 
 "You have been good to my sister," said 
 Anne-Marie, and she looked at him keenly. 
 " But yes she has not failed to tell me' of your 
 goodness; eve'n my husband spoke of it in 
 his letters to me. She would have been always 
 alone, but for you, in this great house so great, 
 so triste. Now she will be alone no more; for it 
 was his wish that I should protect her. " 
 
 The Duke's fair complexion rendered his increase 
 of colour particularly noticeable. But Jeanne 
 reflected his momentary embarrassment with 
 23
 
 354 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 so deep a blush, and such obvious and painful 
 confusion, that a less observant person than 
 Anne-Marie could hardly have failed to perceive 
 it. 
 
 The Duke's blue eyes met her enquiring gaze. 
 
 Anne- Marie paused, and appeared to consider. 
 Then she turned to Jeanne, and addressed her 
 with peculiar gentleness, in her slow, careful 
 English. 
 
 " I would like well to show my son to M. le Due. 
 Will you not go yourself, ma sceur, to find our 
 petit Jeannot, and present him to our cousin?" 
 
 Jeanne, thankful to escape and hide her blushes, 
 very gladly replied that she would, and quitted 
 the room; and the Duke was left alone with his 
 new relation. 
 
 Whether Anne-Marie, as appeared probable, 
 had chosen to give him this immediate oppor- 
 tunity for speaking to her in private, of deliberate 
 design, or whether she was merely actuated by 
 a sisterly desire to screen and shield the obvious 
 confusion of Jeanne the Duke did not pause 
 to discover. But he availed himself without a 
 moment's hesitation of the opening her con- 
 sideration afforded him. 
 
 His embarrassment vanished with the departure 
 of Jeanne, and he addressed himself to the Mar- 
 quise very gravely and courteously in her own 
 language; though had Anne-Marie possessed a 
 corresponding sense of humour to his own (which
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 355 
 
 she did not), she would certainly have discerned 
 the latent twinkle in his blue eyes. 
 
 " I understand, madame, that you are now in a 
 measure the guardian of your sister's interests?" 
 
 "Mais oui, monsieur," said Anne-Marie, with 
 a winning smile, and a dignified inclination of 
 the head. 
 
 ''Then ' said the Duke, with the little bow 
 which Jeanne had thought old-fashioned, but 
 which appeared the most natural and appropri- 
 ate salutation in the world to the Marquise, 
 " I have the honour to apply to you for permission 
 to address myself to my cousin. A marriage 
 with her has long been the dearest wish of my 
 heart. " 
 
 There was no shyness and no hesitation in 
 the Duke's manner now. He spoke with a 
 decision and manliness unmistakable. 
 
 "It is as I divined," said Anne-Marie: she 
 gave him her left hand as a royal favour, and 
 he kissed it with respectful ardour. "Monsieur 
 le Due, you have acted with that propriety which 
 distinguishes all brave and honest men," she 
 paused, and added "in ordinary circumstances. 
 Receive then the assurance of my approval, as I 
 am persuaded you would have received it from 
 the lips of my beloved husband; and with it the 
 expression of my conviction that you will make 
 the happiness of his sister. " 
 
 " I thank you infinitely, " said the Duke, bowing.
 
 3$6 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Then he descended somewhat precipitately from 
 his French stilts. "You will understand that 
 I have said nothing to her yet. " 
 
 " It goes without saying, " said the Marquise. 
 
 "You will then not allude to the subject until 
 I have ventured to ascertain the sentiments of 
 my cousin?" he faltered. "I demand your 
 pardon, madame, but you are perhaps not aware 
 that our English customs differ very considerably 
 she might think I am not even sure whether 
 "he floundered miserably. 
 
 "Soyez tranquille, monsieur," said Anne-Marie, 
 in soothing tones. " I am enough well acquainted 
 on the contrary, with the usages of your country. 
 Here are nearly three years that I study them, 
 with your language, incessantly. You shall rely 
 on my discretion. " 
 
 The Duke was a lover, but perhaps less selfish 
 than lovers usually are; he thought the sad smile 
 of Anne-Marie adorable; and her sympathy for 
 others, in the midst of her own grief, touched 
 him deeply. 
 
 "Chere madame," he said, with an impulsive- 
 ness not habitual to him, " forgive me, forgive me. 
 I wonder how I can have dared to obtrude upon 
 you just now wishes and hopes, that perhaps 
 I must be content to indulge in silence for some 
 time longer. I know too well that it was not at 
 this moment I should have spoken." 
 
 "Ah, monsieur," she said, very simply and
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 357 
 
 earnestly, "is it not then, in her sorrow, that the 
 little one has most need of consolation?" 
 
 "Would you then counsel me?" he said with 
 diffident joy. 
 
 "To follow the impulses of your heart? Mais 
 oui, monsieur. " 
 
 "And you think it possible that she that 
 she " 
 
 Anne-Marie's smile, though sad still, was yet 
 so expressive that he was minded to kiss her 
 hand a second time, but refrained; for at that 
 moment the door opened, and le petit Jean made 
 his appearance with Jeanne. 
 
 Anne-Marie was merciful as she was sympa- 
 thetic, and, with a perception very unusual to 
 mothers, she inflicted the company of her idol- 
 ised son upon the impatient lover for as short a 
 time as possible. 
 
 Petit Jean did all that was required of him; he 
 saluted M. le Due; smiled all over his sunny, 
 handsome, little face; and was finally borne away 
 in the arms of the Marquise to look for chocolates 
 in the dining-room. 
 
 "Jeanne," said the Duke, in hushed tones, 
 " I have read the letter. " 
 
 " And you understand? " 
 
 " I understand that your brother was a brave 
 fellow," he said with emotion. "I am very 
 proud to call him cousin."
 
 358 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "Oh, thank you, thank you," cried Jeanne. 
 No words could have been more grateful to her 
 aching heart. She laid the letter reverently 
 away in the shabby desk; and the Duke closed 
 the lid that she might lock it. 
 
 Their hands met. 
 
 "Jeanne, oh, Jeanne, is it- -too soon? Must I 
 wait yet a little while longer?" 
 
 "Will time make any difference to such sorrow 
 as mine?" she said passionately. 
 
 The Duke knew that it would make a difference ; 
 for though he was no older than Jeanne", he was 
 as wise for his years as she was childish for hers; 
 but he did not stop to think of this now. 
 
 "Oh, Jeanne! If my love could comfort you 
 if my love could bring you the happiness of 
 which he writes " 
 
 "Love is Love," she quoted in a whisper, "and 
 we could not help its mastery even if we would. " 
 
 "Would you if you could?" said the Duke, 
 tenderly; and as he took her into his arms, she 
 knew, tired and heart-broken as she was, that 
 the intolerable heaviness of her sorrow was lifted ; 
 and that in the midst of grief she had found the 
 happiness the joy in life which her dead hero 
 had bidden her take with thankfulness whenever 
 it should come her way. 
 
 And that this comfort had come to little Jeanne 
 now, at the moment when she so sorely needed it, 
 she owed, though she never knew it, to Anne- Marie.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 MADAME LA MARQUISE 
 
 " As one lamp lights another, nor grows less, 
 So nobleness enkindleth nobleness." 
 
 J. RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 "Is Madame de Courset at home?" asked the 
 Duchess. 
 
 " I believe the Marquise has not yet left her 
 room, your Grace, " said Hewitt distantly. 
 
 For the assurances of Mr. Valentine had finally 
 dispersed the doubts of Hewitt, so that he made 
 haste to show his zeal in the service of his new 
 mistress, by resenting any implied slight to her 
 importance. 
 
 It was his instinct, apart from training, to 
 be obsequious to duchesses; even though they 
 should elect to call at unsuitable hours, on foot, 
 and badly dressed, and more obviously in a hurry 
 than was at all compatible with ducal dignity; 
 but the latest domestic on dit had acquainted 
 Hewitt with the fact that there had been a some- 
 what heated controversy between the Duke and 
 his parent just before the young man's latest 
 visit to Grosvenor Square; and Hewitt had put 
 
 359
 
 360 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 his own construction upon the only detail which 
 had yet transpired that her Grace had been dis- 
 covered in tears, after the departure of her son. 
 
 "Of course she 've been and took against the 
 match now there 's a heir turned up," reflected 
 Hewitt. "But I can't see as she can do nothing, 
 storm as she will, since the Duke 's of age. Mrs. 
 Dunham must have been right when she declared 
 that she was sure and certain something was 
 settled yesterday, when he called on Miss Jane; 
 or her Grace would n't never have turned out 
 of her bed at this hour of the morning, and come 
 round here seemingly in the worst of tempers. '' 
 
 Therefore Hewitt determined to uphold the 
 dignity of his family by employing a tone of the 
 most distant respect towards the Duchess, instead 
 of exhibiting the reverential urbanity demanded 
 by her exalted rank, when inviting her to enter. 
 
 The Duchess waited for no invitation, and 
 heeded the intonations of Hewitt as little as 
 she heeded the colour of the doormat over which 
 she stepped. 
 
 "Tell Madame de Courset I will wait," she 
 said, stumping into the morning-room, of which 
 the door stood open, without further ado. "And 
 tell her here, you had better take up my card 
 that I should be glad to speak to her as soon as 
 possible. " 
 
 "How very strange that the Duchess should
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 361 
 
 ask for you, and not for me," said Jeanne, 
 surprised. 
 
 "No, I do not think it strange," said Anne- 
 Marie, as she rose from the carpet on which they 
 were both kneeling, at play with petit Jean. " It 
 is on the contrary what I should have expected, 
 though it is perhaps rather early " she glanced 
 at the clock, "half -past ten. But there is yet 
 two hours before we must be at the office of M. 
 Valentine. " 
 
 She smoothed her raven hair, adjusted her 
 flowing black draperies, and went down-stairs 
 to meet the mother of her sister's fiance. 
 
 It is certain that the Duchess expected to see 
 no such tall and stately figure, no such gracious 
 dignity and winning beauty, as suddenly con- 
 fronted her when Anne-Marie entered the room 
 and closed the door behind her. She returned 
 Madame de Courset's composed and graceful 
 salutation with an agitated nod. 
 
 The poor Duchess was neither young nor slim; 
 she was much upset by a wakeful night ; she had 
 walked too fast and too soon after breakfast ; and 
 the morning was excessively warm. 
 
 It was impossible that she could rise, as she 
 would have wished, to the occasion. 
 
 Anne-Marie, acting with the calm, decisive 
 promptness to which Louis had referred as her 
 characteristic, opened the conversation without 
 embarrassment.
 
 362 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 "I have expected, madame, to see you, since 
 yesterday. " 
 
 " Expected me? " panted the Duchess, in amaze. 
 
 " That you should call so early that you should 
 lose no moment even this is to be expected. I 
 too am the mother of a son, and can understand," 
 said Anne-Marie, with dignity inexpressible. 
 
 Then the Duchess found breath. 
 
 "Last night late last night, my son informed 
 me, that after applying to you, to you, for per- 
 mission, he had asked your your sister-in-law 
 to marry him. " 
 
 "It is true," said Anne-Marie. "He had the 
 delicacy to apply first to me, who stand in the 
 place, alas, of her brother, her natural guardian. 
 I am very well aware that in your country this 
 is not necessary; I know that here a man need 
 not even ask the permission of his parents to 
 marry. Myself, I think this a very wrong and 
 terrible thing." 
 
 " It is terrible. I am glad you see it in such a 
 sensible light," said the Duchess, feelingly. 
 
 "But in this case for my sister has told me 
 of your amiability, of her stay in your house 
 and your maternal solicitude she needs not to 
 have* doubt of your approval of your gladness to 
 accept her as a daughter?" said Anne-Marie; but 
 now there was a questioning accent in her voice. 
 
 The Duchess hesitated. 
 
 The explanation was not easy. She had, in
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 363 
 
 a thousand ways, invited Jeanne to take for 
 granted that such a daughter would be more than 
 welcome to her. She had been not only affec- 
 tionate, but effusive, during her stay at Challons- 
 leigh; and above all during that last short and 
 moving interview, when she had supposed that 
 Jeanne was about to inherit her brother's large 
 fortune. 
 
 " Has something occurred to make you change 
 that you wish it no longer?" asked this clear- 
 sighted questioner. 
 
 "Nothing nothing, so far as Jeanne herself 
 is concerned," said the Duchess, feeling she 
 could say no less. The tears rose to her eyes. 
 She was not unfeeling; and she felt it, besides, 
 very hard that she should thus be forced, of cruel 
 necessity, to appear to be a mercenary woman. 
 That she was rather a mercenary woman made it 
 none the less hard. 
 
 "Madame de Courset," she said, half-ashamed 
 to find herself appealing, apologetically, to the 
 very person whom she had yesterday continued to 
 denounce as an impostor, despite her son's as- 
 surances that the family lawyer had been aware 
 of the marriage of Louis, and the existence of 
 his son "no one in the world no one, I can 
 assure you, that I have ever seen, would suit me 
 better as a daughter than little Jeanne. She is 
 personally, and in disposition, all I could possibly 
 wish her to be. "
 
 364 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 " Mais oui, elle est tres douce," said Anne-Marie, 
 as though she had already divined and understood 
 the somewhat arbitrary character of Jeanne's 
 prospective mother-in-law. 
 
 " But my son ' said the Duchess, moving 
 uneasily beneath the calm gaze of those clear 
 eyes, "the Duke, madame in spite of his rank 
 is a very poor man. " 
 
 " C' est toujours ainsi, " said Anne-Marie, 
 sympathetically. "In our class we do not make 
 money we spend it. What would you? Cela 
 se comprend!" 
 
 The Duchess was petrified. But she knew 
 not how to disagree with Anne-Marie, seate'd calm 
 and reposeful before her; so loftily and unmis- 
 takably a representative of the ancienne noblesse; 
 so entirely and innocently unaware that there 
 could be any doubt of her own complete equality 
 with the Duchess of Monaghan. 
 
 "M'yes, " said the Duchess, faintly. 
 
 There was a moment's pause; the elder 
 lady struggling to recover herself, and the 
 younger politely waiting lest the elder should 
 wish to speak first. Finding this not to be the 
 case, the Marquise came to the rescue of the 
 Duchess. 
 
 "Happily," she said, graciously, "though the 
 fortune of M. le Due is not equal to his position, 
 noi* (you will permit me to add, madame) to his 
 merits, this slight misfortune need not, in this
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 365 
 
 particular case, present any obstacle to the union 
 of our families, since the dot of my sister will 
 be so large if it is this consideration that is 
 troubling Madame la Duchesse ?" 
 
 "It is, it is," cried the mother of the Duke, 
 almost weeping. "I daresay you will think 
 badly of me; one is not supposed to care about 
 such things, but " 
 
 " Mais pas du tout ! " said Anne-Marie, surprised. 
 "It is surely the duty of a mother to occupy 
 herself of such matters! If not she, then who? 
 In France, we should think it strange indeed if 
 she had neglected to inform herself, by every 
 enquiry, of the prudence of the marriage of her 
 son." 
 
 " I have always said they manage these things 
 better in France," said the Duchess, wiping her 
 eyes. 
 
 She was really a pathetic figure, as she sat on 
 poor Miss Marney's favourite couch; her short 
 stout form outlined against the delicate rose- 
 coloured cushions; her broad face flushed and 
 heated; her grey front (which she had replaced 
 in a hurry on her return to town) more than a lit- 
 tle awry, beneath a bonnet so old and so unfash- 
 ionable that her maid would fain have thrown it 
 into the dustbin, but that it happened to be the 
 one her Grace usually asked for. 
 
 "Alas, madame, " said Anne-Marie, "it is not 
 always easy, even in France, for those of our
 
 3 66 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 order to marry where they would. That, also, 
 understands itself. But in this case the dot 
 of my sister renders it possible " 
 
 " But my dear my dear Marquise, " said the 
 Duchess, abandoning the last shred of supposition 
 that this most clear-headed, sensible, and sym- 
 pathetic of listeners could be an impostor. " Has 
 she a dot f that is the question. When I asked 
 my son last night, he could tell me nothing. He 
 knew what the poor her poor brother's inten- 
 tions originally were, no doubt ; but he could only 
 suppose with me, that the birth of an heir would 
 have made" all the difference. I am sure he would 
 not have willingly trifled with my anxiety," 
 said the poor Duchess, again growing rather 
 lachrymose, " but I cannot say that he expressed 
 the interest in a question of such vital importance 
 to him, that a young man in his position ought 
 to feel." 
 
 "It is very natural," said Anne-Marie, indul- 
 gently. "The young leave these considerations 
 to their family. They love, and they think not 
 of such matters. But how could my sister 
 go to her husband, and a husband of a posi- 
 tion so great as M. le Due de Monaghan, " said 
 Anne-Marie, with her courteous inclination. 
 " without a dot ? That would be impossible in- 
 deed! These questions are for us, madame, to 
 discuss. " 
 
 What a reasonable, what a superior creature
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 367 
 
 was this! The Duchess felt almost inclined to 
 embrace Anne-Marie. 
 
 "Unless her poor brother left a will, " she said, 
 hurriedly, "your sister-in-law will, I believe, 
 get nothing at all of the great fortune left by 
 her aunt. Surely, madame, you must be aware 
 of this?" 
 
 "Alas, madame, I understand little of your 
 laws. It seems that one child of the same parents 
 can be given all, and another nothing. Our 
 customs appear to me more just. The children, 
 brother and sister, share alike. Has a woman 
 then less need of money than a man?" 
 
 "More need, more need," said the Duchess 
 hungrily, "and especially when she marries a 
 poor man. " 
 
 "My husband, " said Anne-Marie, softly, "did 
 make a will, just after our marriage in South 
 Africa ; that his sister might by the law of Eng- 
 land have her share of all that belonged to 
 him, in case of his death. And her share was 
 to be the half of all. This he told me, and this 
 he wrote to my sister, and to Mr. Valentine. " 
 
 "But that was before he inherited this pro- 
 perty before the birth of his son 
 
 Anne-Marie shook her head wearily, and half- 
 closed her beautiful hazel eyes. She was grow- 
 ing very tired of her interview with the Duchess. 
 
 "It makes no difference none at all," she 
 said gently. "That is the will of my husband.'
 
 368 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 The Duchess had a heart, though it was a 
 small one ; and suddenly, though tardily, it smote 
 her, as she looked at the pathetic young face, 
 framed in the severe French mourning of recent 
 widowhood. She remembered how recent, and 
 had the grace 1 to be ashamed of her intrusion, 
 and of what now even justly presented itself to 
 her as her importunity. 
 
 "Forgive me," said the Duchess, her loud 
 voice softened. 
 
 Anne-Marie smiled faintly, and made a little 
 movement with one hand, as who should say, 
 It is nothing. 
 
 "Forgive me; and if I might ask you say 
 nothing to my son of my visit here. I ought 
 not, indeed, to have come to disturb you, but 
 but oh, when your son grows up, you too, may 
 know what it is to have to stand by watching 
 him," she wrung her hands in a despairing burst 
 of confidence, " watching them, in my case, 
 do one thing after another that you would stop 
 if you could. But no, you must not interfere, 
 for they are men, and independent, though they 
 be ever so wild or so foolish. " 
 
 "Is M. le Due, then, wild and foolish?" said 
 Anne-Marie, in wonder. 
 
 "No, no, no. I was not thinking of Denis. 
 My feelings carried me away, " cried the Duchess. 
 " I have other sons, less wise, but not less dear 
 than he, poor fellows. Oh no, no, Denis is all
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 369 
 
 that any one could wish. It is for that I am so 
 doubly anxious that he should marry and settle 
 down and have sons of his own; if only there is 
 enough fortune to make it possible. His conduct 
 has never given me a moment's anxiety in all 
 his life." 
 
 "That is what I understood," said Anne-Marie, 
 gravely. "When I heard from my sister of the 
 visits of her cousin, which had afforded consolation 
 to her solitude (a consolation that would not 
 have been possible, madame, in our country, 
 to a young girl, though attended by so devoted 
 a gouvernante as this good Dunham; but I am 
 aware that young girls here are accorded a liberty 
 extraordinary) I, too, found it my duty, as you 
 will readily figure to yourself, madame, to make 
 enquiries. And I had the happiness of learning 
 from the respectable M. Valentine that M. le Due 
 was of a character irreproachable; otherwise, as 
 you will perfectly comprehend, I could not," 
 said Anne-Marie, with a sad but charming smile, 
 "have) accorded my sanction to his application 
 for the hand of my sister. " 
 
 Thus was the Duchess vanquished and routed 
 in her encounter with Anne-Marie; and so com- 
 pletely that it was not until she returned home 
 that she realised, being by no means a quick- 
 witted woman, that in spite of the serene assurance 
 of the Marquise, nothing could be known for 
 
 24
 
 370 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 certain, concerning Jeanne's fortune, until the will 
 of Louis had been opened. 
 
 But the close of the day fortunately put an 
 end to her doubts ; when her son who had every 
 desire to relieve his mother's anxiety as soon as 
 possible, and who was, to say the least, and in 
 spite of his love, as much interested in the matter 
 as she was informed her that Louis had made no 
 fresh will upon succeeding to his property, since 
 the one drawn up and signed immediately after 
 his marriage would, as he had instructed Mr. 
 Valentine, answer every necessary purpose. 
 
 This divided all his property, without reference 
 to the amount, in equal shares between his wife 
 and sister, in accordance with his letter to Jeanne ; 
 and appointed her sole executrix. 
 
 The situation was perfectly clear, and afforded 
 no difficulties beyond the exact division of the 
 estate; and over this, as the Duke remarked to 
 his mother, Anne-Marie and Jeanne were very 
 little likely to dispute. 
 
 " No, indeed, Jeanne is far too amiable ; and the 
 Marquise is an admirable person,' ' said the Duch- 
 ess ; forgetting, in her joy, that she had implored 
 Anne-Marie not to mention her visit to the Duke. 
 
 " Have you seen her?" he asked in amaze. 
 
 "I I called upon her this morning, Denis," 
 said his mother, faltering. 
 
 So they perceived that Madame la Marquise 
 could keep a secret.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 37x 
 
 Jeanne had intended to break the news of his 
 ne'phew's marriage to Uncle Roberts, by word of 
 mouth, in accordance with the intention Louis 
 himself had expressed; but Anne- Marie, in calm 
 consultation with the respectable M. Valentine, 
 decided otherwise. 
 
 "To write it is better," she said. "Let there 
 be, on this occasion, no more surprises, no more 
 coups de theatre. " 
 
 " But it is so difficult to know what to write. 
 He does not like letters, particularly long letters; 
 and it would need a very long letter to explain 
 it all," said Jeanne. "And one never knows 
 how Uncle Roberts will take things." 
 
 "Then it is as well that you should not be 
 there," said Anne-Marie, sensibly. "A man 
 in these circumstances needs time to reflect how 
 he will act. Time also perhaps to overcome 
 the first burst of his surprise, it may be his anger 
 in fine, his emotions, and to compose himself. 
 It is ce ban M. Valentine who will write of what 
 he learnt from my husband. He will doubtless 
 send a copy of his letter of announcement, or 
 of such papers as may be necessary. It goes 
 without saying that it is ces messieurs who will 
 concern themselves of business. But for you, 
 you will write of your engagement, and of your 
 filial sentiment; and for me, I have but to ask 
 that I may be permitted to make a pilgrim- 
 age' to the home of my husband's infancy;
 
 372 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 and to demand the blessing of his uncle for my 
 son." 
 
 The letters were written and despatched in 
 strict accordance with these directions ; and, what- 
 ever Uncle Roberts's emotions may have been 
 on the receipt of the intelligence they conveyed, 
 he certainly took time to reflect and compose 
 himself before he decided upon the proper course 
 of action to take in the matter; for ten days 
 elapsed before his anxiously awaiting niece re- 
 ceived an answer to her letter ; and to theirs, the 
 lawyer and Anne-Marie re'ceived no answers at all. 
 
 " Dear Niece," wrote Uncle Roberts in his 
 usual laconic style. " Your's to hand. I hope 
 you may be happy in your choice, and that your 
 Future Husband is a godly man. You will be 
 set in High Places, take heed lest you fall. 
 
 " To hear of the poor Lad's marriage was a Sur- 
 prize to Sally Morgan and myself. If it had pleased 
 God to spare him, he would have told me all Him- 
 self on his coming Home, this was not to be. I 
 should take it kind of the french Lady he has 
 married to bring his son to see me. Sally Morgan 
 bids me say the Spare Room is now ready, likewise 
 his that was, and your own. 
 
 " May God's Blessing rest on you is the prayer 
 of your affectionate uncle and well-wisher, 
 
 LLEWELLYN ROBERTS." 
 
 "Oh, Anne-Marie, do you see? He did not
 
 OP GROSVENOR SQUARE 373 
 
 write earlier, only because he waited till the 
 spare room should be ready. How like Uncle 
 Roberts. " 
 
 " It is the letter of a noble, a pious, and a gen- 
 erous man, " said Anne-Marie, reading between 
 the lines of the homely yet dignified epistle. 
 "He makes us no reproaches. He speaks not 
 of his own feelings. I will teach my son to honour 
 him, and we will make the journey together 
 before we return to France. " 
 
 For Anne-Marie withstood firmly though gently 
 all the entreaties of Jeanne, all the arguments of 
 Mr. Valentine, and all the invitations of the 
 Duchess. 
 
 She would not prolong her stay in England, 
 she said, by a day, after the marriage of her 
 sister should be accomplished. She would return 
 to her home. 
 
 "My son is French," she said, "by birth, 
 by parentage, by descent. Also he shall be 
 French by education, by sentiment, and by 
 association. This would not be possible were 
 he to be brought up out of his own country: 
 which would also, to me, be exile," she added, 
 with frankness. 
 
 The Duke declared himself on her side, and 
 Jeanne 1 was persuaded to see the justice of her 
 arguments from Anne-Marie's point of view; 
 but not all her reverence for the family traditions 
 reconciled her to the proposal that her nephew
 
 374 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 should grow up a stranger to the country in which 
 his fathers had been born, and for which they 
 had died, for three successive generations. 
 
 It was Anne-Marie who decided that the 
 Marney collection must not be divided, but 
 should belong to Jeanne's share of the property. 
 The Duke rejoiced at the prospect of being enabled 
 to examine the Dutch pictures in detail, and 
 discover as many fresh beauties in them as he 
 chose, for the rest of his natural life. 
 
 The house in Grosvenor Square was also to be 
 Jeanne's; and as a set-off, the large and valuable 
 Orsett estates were to be sold for the benefit of 
 Anne-Marie and her son. 
 
 "For me I will buy the Chateau de Courset," 
 said the Marquise. "It is there my son shall 
 spend his childhood. " 
 
 "Is it for sale?" cried Jeanne, turning pale 
 with excitement and awe, for the restoration of 
 the chateau had been among the fondest and 
 most unlikely dreams of her childhood. 
 
 "How very fortunate it should be for sale," 
 said the Duke and Mr. Valentine in a breath. 
 
 " Mais non, " said Anne-Marie, calmly, " it is not 
 for sale. It belongs to a bon petit bourgeois gentil- 
 homme. He is a brave boy, and above all a very 
 prudent one. He is also of my acquaintance. 
 When I offer him more money than it is worth, 
 he will certainly not refuse me. " 
 
 "No, madame, I do not think he will refuse
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 375 
 
 you," said Mr. Valentine, and he looked at the 
 Duke, whose blue eyes twinkled responsively. 
 
 He too thought it probable that Anne-Marie 
 would get her way. 
 
 The event subsequently justified his conviction ; 
 for the brave bourgeois retired with all possible 
 speed from the Chateau d Courset, to make room 
 for the Marquise and her son; overwhelmed by 
 the magnitude of the sum offered him for this 
 concession.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 THE LONELY LADY LONELY NO MORE 
 
 AWAY from London; from the heat and crowd 
 of the season ; the rolling of carriages and mo- 
 tors and electric broughams ; the clatter of han- 
 soms and rattling of omnibuses in noisy streets; 
 from an atmosphere vitiated by myriads of chim- 
 neys, and choked with the dust of the wood- 
 pavements to the silence of the mountains; 
 to the pure fresh air of the green valleys after 
 the rain ; to the May meeting of spring and summer 
 on the flowering hillsides. 
 
 At Coed-Ithel, the old stone-tiled, ivy-clasped 
 house was no longer bared to the view of every 
 passer-by, through the gnarled and naked boughs 
 of winter; but was embowered and hidden in 
 blossoming orchards holding aloft their burden 
 of rosy bud and white bloom against a cloud- 
 less turquoise sky. 
 
 The dark yew guarding the rustic gate stood 
 among the snowy loveliness of the pear-trees, 
 like a death's head at a bridal feast. 
 
 Golden lights fell through the green leaves 
 376
 
 THE LONELY LADY 377 
 
 of the oaks upon the grass, now yellow with 
 buttercups ; upon patches of wild blue hyacinths, 
 upon violets smothered in growth, and moss- 
 grown stones hiding the trickle of the mountain 
 stream, a torrent no longer. 
 
 Jeanne felt that Coed-Ithel needed no apology 
 no explanation from her, upon such a May-day 
 as this. 
 
 Uncle Roberts, alas, had discarded his working- 
 clothes for his Sunday suit; his rust-coloured 
 hair and whiskers bore traces of a recent and 
 liberal application of Maccassar oil; but French- 
 women, though not less delicate, are certainly 
 less squeamish than their English sisters and 
 if Anne-Marie observed the strong scent of the 
 Maccassar (which indeed she could hardly have 
 failed to do, since she embraced her astounded 
 relative on both cheeks before he had time to 
 resist), she accepted it as an evidence of Uncle 
 Roberts's desire to do her honour, and was touched 
 accordingly. 
 
 The embarrassment of the occasion was inten- 
 sified by their reception in the small and musty 
 parlour, which was ill-adapted for the accom- 
 modation of so large a party; whereas the farm 
 kitchen was large and lofty, and would have 
 possessed the additional advantage of putting 
 the farmer at his ease among more familiar 
 surroundings. 
 
 As it was, Uncle Roberts felt almost like a
 
 
 378 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 visitor nimself, as he balanced 'his heavy person 
 carefully on the edge of a horsehair chair, wiped 
 his brow with his red handkerchief and told the 
 Duke that the weather was uncommonly warm 
 for the time of year. 
 
 Happily petit Jean came to the rescue with 
 loud, plaintive, and reiterated demands for milk, 
 and his frank requests being translated to the 
 farmer, Uncle Roberts jumped up in great relief 
 and invited his grandnephew into the dairy; 
 forgetting his previous arrangement that Granny 
 Morgan and her handmaid should bring a tray 
 of refreshments into the parlour, where a space 
 had been cleared for it among the shells and 
 albums and fancy mats upon the centre-table. 
 
 Poor Granny Morgan, who had been waiting 
 only for the first ardour of greetings to subside, 
 before making her appearance according to 
 contract, was dismayed to see the whole party 
 pouring thankfully out of the parlour; but she 
 forgot her disappointment in the excitement of 
 beholding petit Jean, and the embarrassment of 
 being embraced by Anne-Marie. 
 
 "To think of yon being the wife of our Louis, " 
 she said afterwards to Jeanne. "Foreigner or 
 no foreigner, no Englishwoman could have wore 
 a better crape dress for the poor boy ; nor I never 
 saw none half so deep; and to hear her speak 
 English just like any other Christian, fair amazed 
 me. And the way she took her food ! ' Farmer, '
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 379 
 
 I said to your uncle, when he told me her was a- 
 coming, ' 'T is no manner of use for you to ask me 
 to cook snails for her, nor yet frogs,' I says, 
 'for I won't ado it,' and he give me a scornful 
 look, as much as to say, ' You 're showing your 
 ignorance, woman.' You know his way if a body 
 so much as opens her mouth to cross him. " 
 
 The visitors would have been hard to please 
 had they desired better fare than Granny Morgan 
 spread before them; of home-brewed cider and 
 perry; of tender spring chickens, early peas and 
 gooseberries, and rich wrinkled yellow cream. 
 
 The praise of Anne-Marie won the old woman's 
 heart. 
 
 "She took her vittles with the best of us, 
 though I doubt she 's been used to the grandest 
 of cooking. To think our lad should have had 
 the face but he was one to dare anything, 
 and I '11 warrant he did n't ask her twice for all 
 she looks like a queen. He had the way with 
 him. But you mark my words, deary, her 
 heart 's broke ; and I seed her look at the little 
 boy so sorrowful that I fair went to the back 
 kitchen and burst out crying, for it minded me 
 of the poor lad." 
 
 "Yes, petit Jean is very like Louis," said 
 Jeanne, sadly. She waited for a moment, and 
 then said, faltering, "You haven't said a word 
 about about him, Granny?" 
 
 "Haven't I, deary?" said Granny Morgan,
 
 3o THE LONELY LADY 
 
 with well-feigned surprise. " Well then, no more I 
 have n't, so I declare! I Ve been and forgot to 
 wish you happy, my deary, so here I does it with 
 all my heart, " and she kissed Jeanne emphatically. 
 
 "But what do you think of him? Oh, do 
 say you like him, Granny; for you don't know 
 how good he 's been to me. " 
 
 "I should n't wonder if he was good to you, 
 my deary ; for I 'm not one to judge by appear- 
 ances, " said Granny Morgan, soothingly, "and 
 't is n't always the finest fellars as makes the best 
 husbands. " 
 
 "But indeed indeed, he is a fine fellow " 
 
 " They says Love is blind, " said Granny Morgan, 
 lifting her hands admiringly, "and so I 'm sure 
 he 'd need to be sometimes. When I heard you 
 was to marry a grand lord, says I, here 's a to-do, 
 and however did he come for to pick up with 
 our Jenny! says I, mazed-like. But now I Ve 
 seed him, deary, why 't is all to be understood; 
 for he 's but a slip of a boy, and a lame one at 
 that, who would be looking for a straight, comely 
 maid to tend him like; but you shewed your 
 sense, my deary, in taking him, for half a loaf he 
 better than no bread ; and now you '11 be a lady, 
 which all the money in the world would n't have 
 made ye, if a gentleman had n't come along to 
 make you one. But to think of him alongside 
 of our Louis, oh deary me," and she wept into 
 her apron.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 381 
 
 Jeanne cried for company; but she blushed 
 too, as she recognised in Granny Morgan's crude 
 reflections the echo of her own past impressions 
 of Denis. She too had once seen that he was 
 little, and lame, and delicate and had seen 
 nothing else. 
 
 The succks of Anne-Marie, glad as she was to 
 note it, was counterbalanced in poor Jeanne's 
 eyes by the obvious failure of her childhood's 
 friends to recognise any remarkable qualities in 
 her betrothed husband. 
 
 The exaltedness of his rank did not impress 
 them, because to the inhabitants of Coed-Ithel 
 a duke was a lord, like any other lord, and one 
 title just as good or of as little account as another, 
 according to your principles. 
 
 Uncle Roberts objected to all titles, in what he 
 chose to call "the abstrack"; but to show he was 
 not proud, and that he knew his manners, and 
 had no ill-feeling towards his niece's future hus- 
 band, he called Denis "my lord" once or twice, in 
 the course of conversation, or whenever he re- 
 membered to do so. Most of his remarks were 
 naturally addressed to the Duke, because Uncle 
 Roberts never, if he could help it, talked to per- 
 sons of the inferior sex when a man was pres- 
 ent ; and the force of habit was too strong to be 
 overcome. 
 
 But though he talked to Denis, he looked at 
 Anne-Marie and at the little boy beside her; and
 
 382 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 his face betrayed a sad wonder, and almost awe, 
 as he watched them both. 
 
 After supper, and when petit Jean had been 
 borne away upstairs by his nurse, Uncle Roberts 
 seated himself in the porch, with his pipe, and 
 smoked and enjoyed the mildness of the May 
 evening as his custom was; and it was then that 
 Anne-Marie, in her long black draperies, came 
 to bear him company, and talked to him in her 
 pretty broken English, as she sat beside him. 
 
 Jeanne, beholding her uncle absorbed in lis- 
 tening to those low, clear tones, stole through a 
 side-door, with her lover. They wandered through 
 the blossoming orchards and climbed together the 
 rising grass slopes behind the farm, and watched 
 the moon rise over the edge of the fir-crowned 
 hill, whilst yet the afterglow of the sunset had 
 scarcely died from the clear, pale, evening sky. 
 
 Her heart was too full for much speech; and 
 Denis, divining the sadness of her thoughts, was 
 silent too ; yet knowing that his presence and his 
 sympathy comforted her without words. 
 
 She led him presently to a seat beside a clump 
 of oaks, near the fallen walls of a stone cot, which 
 had stood upon the mountain before the oaks 
 were planted, and when the grim giant yew now 
 overshadowing the' ruin was still young ; and they 
 rested, and listened to the ceaseless song of 
 the mountain brook, and the sleepy twittering 
 of the birds, disturbed by the rising of the moon.
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 383 
 
 we used to play," she whispered, "and 
 here Louis used to tell me all he meant to do 
 when he was grown up and now what is left 
 of it all?" 
 
 "A memory that will never die in the hearts 
 that love him, his share in the example and 
 inspiration that heroes leave to weaker men " 
 
 There was a silence, and Denis added, gently, 
 " His son will carry on the traditions of his house. " 
 
 " Yes, there is petit Jean, " said Jeanne wistfully. 
 "I thank God for petit Jean. But oh, Denis" 
 she crept closer to him, "he will not be mine as 
 Louis was. He belongs to his mother, and she 
 to him, and both to Louis. I feel it more and 
 more each day. I have thought sometimes 
 lately that that even if he had come back it 
 might have been like that. There would have 
 been very very little place for me. They would 
 have filled each other's lives ' 
 
 The Duke had, perhaps, already thought of 
 this, and wondered if the little sister had been 
 spared, in her sorrow, many a disillusion almost 
 harder yet to bear than grief itself; but he was 
 loyally silent concerning these reflections. 
 
 "You and I, too, will fill each other's lives. 
 It is Nature," he whispered. 
 
 He took her into his arms, and she clung to 
 him, and was consoled, a little consoled in the 
 midst of her tears; which were no longer bitter, 
 but only sad and tender.
 
 384 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 Her utter dependence was very sweet to him, 
 and he understood this childish human sorrow 
 better than he understood the strange unearthly 
 resignation of Anne-Marie, to whom, for her 
 part, these young lovers seemed but children, 
 playing at love. 
 
 When they returned to the house, that the 
 Duke might take leave of his host, and enter 
 the fly which was waiting to conduct him to the 
 little hostel down in the valley, they found 
 that Anne-Marie had already retired, and that 
 Uncle Roberts was awaiting them alone, shaking 
 the ashes of his pipe into the kitchen fireplace. 
 
 His nature was not formed for excess either 
 of melancholy, or of mirth; but it was easily to 
 be discerned that something had pleased him, 
 and he took them immediately into his con- 
 fidence in the matter. 
 
 " Jenny, " said Uncle Roberts, " d'ye know what 
 I 've been thinking?" 
 
 "No, Uncle." 
 
 " Why that I shan't have to go over to Tref- 
 goch, and pay another thirty shillings to old 
 Lawyer Williams for making a fresh will, after all ; 
 as I '11 be bound he do expect. For I left my 
 farm and all my worldly goods as I do possess 
 to Louis de Courset, d' ye see; and under that 
 will, as sure as I 'm alive, the Louis de Courset 
 as is sleeping up-stairs will get the lot. "
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 385 
 
 Jeanne's tap at the door of the spare room 
 was so gentle that it passed unheard; and, very 
 softly, she ope'ned the door. 
 
 Petit Jean lay asleep on the narrow bedstead 
 in the corner; and by the centre-table, with her 
 back to the opening door, all unconscious of in- 
 trusion, Anne-Marie knelt before a crucifix. 
 
 There, also, was all that remained to her of 
 Louis a little row of medals, and the Cross 
 of his Order; but he would have prized them 
 beyond everything in the world, and she hated 
 and treasured them. 
 
 What was left? 
 
 A photograph, a wedding ring, and a packet of 
 letters. 
 
 Her black hair fell like a mourning veil over 
 her white draperies; her face was hidden upon 
 her out-stretched arms; her hands were clasped 
 in a silent agony of supplication. 
 
 Awed and trembling, Jeanne closed the door 
 without a sound, upon that holy place of love 
 and sorrow. She dared not enter, nor make 
 her presence known. It was, to her, as though 
 the soul of Louis were keeping guard over his 
 wife's secret anguish; as though she, too, had 
 "watched an angel pray." 
 
 Jeanne and Denis were married in London, 
 later in the summer, and they kept the date, 
 place, and hour of their wedding a secret from 
 
 95
 
 386 THE LONELY LADY 
 
 i 
 
 all save their nearest relatives, that it might be 
 as quiet and private as possible. 
 
 Yet, when the time for the ceremony arrived, 
 there sat Cecilia, in a front pew, with her eyes 
 starting out of her he'ad. 
 
 During the honeymoon, Jeanne had the happi- 
 ness of beholding at last the home" of her ancestors, 
 though she was disappointed to find it no fine 
 palace; but a plain, three-storied, green-shuttered 
 mansion, with slated roof, and a tall poplar set 
 at each corner; standing among the coppices, 
 streams, and pollards of the flat, uninteresting 
 country of the Boulonnais. 
 
 She has, however, the consolation of living 
 in as romantic and turreted a castle as Ireland 
 can boast ; in a country not less wildly picturesque, 
 nor less well-timbered and well- watered, than 
 her native Wales. 
 
 The Marney Collection is displayed to advan- 
 tage in wide and lofty galleries, where space and 
 light abound, and where the owners need fear 
 no deterioration from London smoke or fog. 
 
 The Marney thousands have restored Cuilmore, 
 and brought peace and plenty to many humble 
 homes. The old servants have been pensioned 
 off and dispersed; only Dunham and Mrs. Pyke 
 live with Jeanne, in a corner of the great castle, 
 with a maid to wait upon them in their old age; 
 in the evening they play double-dummy together, 
 and think, doubtless, of their old mistress; and
 
 OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 387 
 
 wear out such portions of her wardrobe as Dun- 
 ham does not still feel it her duty to hoard in 
 cupboards, with little bags of camphor among 
 the folds. 
 
 The Romney portrait looks down upon poor 
 Miss Caroline's ancient harp; and upon her gilt 
 furniture, and upon the Book of Beauty, still 
 kept faithfully upon the occasional table next 
 the sofa, by the orderly little Duchess; but the 
 miniatures of the young Marquis, page to Madame 
 Royale, of the Chevalier Charles, and the Cha- 
 noinesse Anne-Marie, have gone back to the 
 Chateau de Courset ; they are the property of Jean- 
 Louis. 
 
 And the windows of the new morning-room 
 look out upon a wide, green park, and a rolling 
 river, and distant blue hills, instead of into a 
 London street. 
 
 For the house in Grosvenor Square is dis- 
 mantled, and the rooms are empty. The police- 
 man, passing on his beat, sees no more a lonely 
 lady gazing from the window ; but instead, a board, 
 with the inscription, To be Let or Sold. 
 
 THE END
 
 A 000 131 181 o