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 LIBRARY 
 
 tiWIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 AND TWO OTHEB TALES
 
 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 AND TWO OTHER TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM BLACK 
 
 NEW AND JIEYTSED EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 SAMPSON LOW, MAESTON & COMPANY 
 
 LIMITED 
 
 1893 
 
 {All righti r:servsd.']
 
 TRHW/ 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITEDj 
 ST4MF0UD SrUEEr AN1> CHARING CKOSS.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. — The Temptation 
 
 II. — Kemorse . 
 III. — A Pilgrimage . 
 IV. — ^A Friend in Neeh 
 
 V. — Absolution 
 
 1 
 
 18 
 40 
 53 
 C8 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET: A TALE OF TWO 
 YOUNG FOOLS. 
 
 I.— "My Unfortunate Client" 95 
 
 II. — Jimmie 102 
 
 III. — White Lies 112 
 
 IV. — The Go-betweens ....... 120 
 
 V. — A Dinner Party 13G 
 
 VI. — A Conspiracy 151 
 
 VII. — " Well Counterfeited '" , . . . . . ig7 
 
 A SNOW UjMA. 
 
 I.— PlCTOR IGNOTUS. 
 
 II. — A Summons 
 1 1 1. — Severed . 
 IV. — A Kescue 
 V. — A Game or Chess 
 VI. — An Aider and Abettor 
 VII. — The Capture of a King 
 VIII.— Finale . 
 
 181 
 
 201 
 218 
 233 
 
 252 
 209 
 284 
 298
 
 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOaAN. 
 
 -»(>*- 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 The summer sea was shining fair and calm, 
 a perfect mirror of the almost cloudless heavens 
 overhead, as a small rowing-boat, occupied by 
 a single person, was slowly approaching a 
 lonely little island in the Outer Hebrides. The 
 solitary rower was neither fisherman nor sailor, 
 but merely a holiday-maker — a well-known 
 banker from London, in fact — who was seeking 
 rest and recreation in the West Highlands, and 
 who had rather a fancy for going about all by 
 himself and for exploring out-of-the-way neigh- 
 bourhoods. He had heard a good deal of this 
 Eilean-na-Keal — the Island of the Burying- 
 place — of its sculptured tombstones, its ancient 
 chapel, its Saints' Well, and other relics and 
 
 B
 
 2 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 traces of the time when the early Christians 
 made their first settlements in these sea- 
 solitudes ; and on this pleasant morning, the 
 water being like a sheet of glass, he thought 
 ha could not do better than hire a boat at the 
 little village on the mainland where he chanced 
 to be staying, and pull himself across. It is 
 true that the nearer he got to the island, he 
 found that there was a heavy tide running, 
 and his labour at the oars was a much more 
 arduous task than he had bargained for ; but 
 eventually he managed to fight his way 
 through, the boat at last shootiug into a small 
 and sheltered bay, well out of the current. 
 
 But when he stood up to reconnoitre the 
 shore and select a landing-place, he found to 
 his intense astonishment that the island was 
 not so totally uninhabited as he had been in- 
 formed it was. A pair of eyes were calmly 
 regarding him ; and those eyes belonged to a 
 little old man who was seated on a rock some 
 way along the beach — a little, bent, broad- 
 shouldered old man, with long white hair and 
 tanned and weather-worn face. A further 
 glance showed him a cumbrous and dilapidated 
 rowing-boat hauled up into a kind of creek, 
 and also a number of lobster-traps lying about
 
 THE TEMPTATION 3 
 
 on the shingle. The new-comer therefore 
 naturally concluded that he had not been fore- 
 stalled bj any such hateful being as a fellow- 
 tourist, but merely by an old lobster-fisherman 
 who had come out to look after his traps. 
 
 The Englishman shoved his boat through 
 the seaweed, jumped out, and hauled it up on 
 the beach ; and then walked along to the little 
 old man, who had ceased mending his lobster- 
 traps, and was still calmly regarding the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Good morning ! " the latter said, cheerfully 
 — he was a good-humoured-looking, middle- 
 aged person, who had knocked about the world 
 sufficiently, and who liked to converse with 
 whomsoever he chanced to meet. " This is 
 rather a lonely place for you to be in, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Ay," said the old man, as he carefully 
 scrutinised the other from head to heel, " there's 
 not many comes here." 
 
 " But there used to be people living on the 
 island?" Mr. Eamsden continued, chiefly for 
 the sake of getting his new acquaintance to 
 talk. 
 
 The old man paused for a moment or two ; 
 then he slowly made answer — 
 
 " Ay, I have heard that." 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 Was he half-witted, then, or was his English 
 defective, or was it his lonely life that had 
 made him thus chary and hesitating of speech ? 
 He seemed to ponder over the questions, his 
 eyes all the while taking note of every detail 
 of the stranger's features and dress. 
 
 " I saw some seals as I came along : are 
 there many of them about here ? " 
 
 " Ay, plenty." 
 
 " Don't people come and shoot them ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Doesn't anybody ever come here ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Do you ever have to pass the night here ? " 
 
 " Ay." 
 
 " Where do you sleep, then — in your boat ? " 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Where then ? " 
 
 " In the chaypel." 
 
 " Oh, that's the chapel I've heard about : you 
 must come and show me where it is, if you are 
 not too busy. Have you been getting many 
 lobsters lately ? " 
 
 " Some." 
 
 " What do you do with them ? You can't 
 have many customers in Harivaig." 
 
 " To London," the old man said, laconically
 
 THE TEMPTATION 5 
 
 "Oh, YOU send them to London ? To a 
 fishmonger, or a fish-dealer, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Ay, do ye know him ? " And then old 
 John Logan seemed to wake up a little ; indeed, 
 he spoke almost eagerly, though he was con- 
 tinually hesitating for want of the proper word. 
 " Do ye know him ? — Corstorphine — Billings- 
 gale — he sends me the boxes. Do ye know 
 him ? — bekass — bekass he is not giffing me 
 enough — and if there wass another one now 
 I would go aweh from him. Mebbe you know 
 Corstorphine ? " 
 
 " No ; I'm sorry to say I don't. I should be 
 very glad to help you if I could, but I'm afraid 
 you would run a great risk in giving up a 
 constant customer. I suppose he takes what- 
 ever you send ? " 
 
 " Oh, ay ; oh, ay," was the old man's answer, 
 " but he does not gif enough ! And — and I 
 hef a young lass at home — she is the daughter 
 of my daughter that's dead — and — and she is 
 going to be married ; and the young man — he 
 is for buying a — a part in a herring-smack, and 
 I am for helping him with the money. But 
 Corstorphine should gif more." 
 
 " Well, I think so too. So your grand- 
 daughter is going to be married ; and you are
 
 6 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 going to help the young man to buy his share 
 in the herring-smack as a kind of marriage- 
 portion : is that it ? " 
 
 " Ay, it's something Hke that," said old 
 Logan — but doubtfully, for perhaps he had not 
 quite understood. 
 
 " I should have thought now," Mr. Ramsden 
 resumed — he had a knack of interesting him- 
 self in people — " that it would have been worth 
 your while to take the young man into your 
 own business, instead of buying him a share 
 in a smack. You are getting up in years ; and 
 this is a very lonely life for you to lead ; if the 
 young man came in — with a little capital, 
 perhaps " 
 
 Old Logan shook his head. 
 
 " It's not a good business at ahl. There's 
 the coorse weather ; and the things brekkin' ; 
 and — and then there's Corstorphine. He is not 
 a fair man, Corstorphine. He should gif more 
 — pless me, they hef plenty of money in 
 London, as I wass being told many's the time." 
 
 "Yes, but they like to keep it, my friend," 
 the banker replied. " Well, now, if you are 
 not too busy, will you come and show me where 
 the tombstones are, and the other things I have 
 heard about ? "
 
 THE TEMPTATION 7 
 
 The old man slowly rose, and put aside the 
 trap he had been mending. It was now 
 apparent that, despite his short stature, his 
 white hair, and his glazed eyes, he was a much 
 stronger man — especially about the chest and 
 shoulders — than he had appeared to be when 
 sitting in a crouching position : there was no 
 longer any mystery as to how that big, 
 cumbrous boat had been got over. 
 
 " Mebbe you'll not be living in London ? " 
 the lobster fisherman asked thoughtfully, as he 
 led the way for his companion along some rising 
 slopes that were thickly matted with bracken. 
 
 " Yes, I live in London," was the answer. 
 
 " But you are not knowing Corstorphine ? ' 
 was the next question. 
 
 " No, I don't know him ; but surely you 
 would not quarrel with him before getting 
 another customer ? " 
 
 " He is not a fair man ; he should be giffing 
 me more " — this was the refrain of the conver- 
 sation, repeated again and again, as they made 
 their way up to a rude little enclosure, the four- 
 square wall of which had tumbled down until 
 it was nearly level with the grass and the 
 abundant nettles . 
 
 And now the banker-traveller found what he
 
 8 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 had come in search of — all kinds of sculptured 
 gravestones, with memorial figures of knights 
 in armour, lying scattered about among the tall 
 weeds. In most cases he had to clear away this 
 herbage before he could get a proper view of 
 the stones ; while his companion stood blankly 
 gazing on, perhaps wondering at this curiosity 
 about such familiar things, but saying nothing. 
 Nor did the stranger apparently expect to get 
 from the old fisherman much information about 
 the Culdees and their haunts, and the Irish 
 princes and knights who were fain to choose 
 for their burial-place one of those sacred islands 
 in the northern seas. He examined tombstone 
 after tombstone, observing the curious emblems 
 — elephants, two-handed swords, rude castles, 
 and such smaller things as pincers and combs — • 
 that no doubt would have afforded to anyone 
 sufficiently instructed some hint as to the 
 dignity or office of the now-forgotten dead ; 
 and very singular it was to find these memorials 
 of bygone ages in this silent little island set 
 amid these lonely seas. Then they went to the 
 chapel, a small building of hardly any archi- 
 tectural pretensions beyond some sculptured 
 stones over the doorway ; while inside the only 
 noticeable feature was a lot of scattered hay —
 
 THE TEMPTATION 9 
 
 the old fisherman's bed when his business or 
 the weather compelled him to pass a night on 
 the island. Finally, they visited the Saints' 
 Well, a considerable hole bored down through 
 the solid rock ; and here the exploration of this 
 isolated little bit of no-man's-territory seemed 
 to have come to an end. 
 
 But their last quest had brought them to the 
 top of a ridge, from which they could look 
 down on a tiny bay — a secluded small bay that 
 appeared to be safe from the strong tides that 
 were seen to be running a little way further out. 
 
 " Not much of a current in here, is there ? " 
 the Englishman asked. 
 
 " No, not mich," his companion answered. 
 
 " Well, look here, my friend, before setting 
 out for home again, I think I should like to 
 have a dip in the sea, and this seems a very 
 nice and likely place. In the meantime, if you 
 go back to your boat, I wish you would pick 
 me out two or three lobsters, and you shall 
 have your own price for them — better than 
 what Corstorphine gives you, I imagine. Do 
 you understand ? " 
 
 " Oh, ay," said the old man, beginning to 
 move away ; " I'll have their claws tied by the 
 time you come." .
 
 lo THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 These were the last words that this hapless 
 traveller was ever to hear on this earth. The 
 old fisherman went slowly back to his boat, to 
 select the lobsters for his unexpected customer. 
 He went leisurely about the task, thinking of 
 nothing, most likely, but the price that would 
 probably be paid for them. Then he lit his 
 pipe, and sat waiting in the silence. An abso- 
 lute silence it was, save for the noise of certain 
 sea-swallows, that seemed to have been disturbed 
 by the bather, and were now wheeling and 
 darting overhead, uttdVing screams of alarm 
 and resentment over the intrusion. 
 
 Suddenly the old man heard a cry — a call for 
 help, as it seemed to be, from far away. He 
 started up erect, and listened. That faint, 
 boding sound was repeated. Instantly he 
 threw aside the lobster-trap that happened to 
 be in his hand, and, with a speed that could 
 hardly have been expected from one of his age, 
 he made his way up the slopes of bracken, until 
 he stood on a knoll commanding a view of the 
 bay beside which he had left the stranger. The 
 same moment he perceived whence had come 
 that cry of anguish. The swimmer was some 
 way out — perhaps the strong tide had caught 
 him — perhaps cramp had struck him helpless —
 
 THE TEMPTATION ii 
 
 but just as old John Logan, entirely bewildered 
 and unnerved, was hesitating as to what he 
 ought to do, there was an arm raised from the 
 surface of the water — as if in a last, pitiful 
 appeal to the silent heavens overhead — and 
 then the smooth plain of the sea was blank of 
 any feature whatsoever. Nothing but this wide 
 waste — and the voiceless air — and the warm 
 sun shining abroad over an empty world. 
 
 Hardly knowing what he did, the old man 
 rushed down the slopes again, and across the 
 beach, and shoved off the stranger's boat, which 
 was lighter than his own, jumping into it, and 
 setting to work at the oars with a breathless 
 and strenuous haste. But there were two small 
 promontories intervening between this bay and 
 that on the western side of the island ; and his 
 hurried pulling was not likely to be of any 
 avail. Old Logan did his best — probably too 
 much alarmed to have any time for the calcula- 
 tion of chances ; and ever, as he came within 
 view of the stretch of water where he had seen 
 the drowning man go down, he kept gkncing 
 over his shoulder as he tugged away at the 
 oars. There was nothing visible at all — nothing 
 but that wide blue plain of sea, and the lonely 
 shore stretching in successive indentations away
 
 12 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 to the south. He relaxed his efforts now. He 
 had reached, as well as he could judge, the very 
 spot at which he had seen the stranger disappear. 
 There was no sign of him, nor of any other 
 living thing — even the screaming sea-fowl had 
 departed. He took the oars into the boat, and 
 stood up — looking all around. It was hopeless. 
 If the swimmer had been seized with cramp, as 
 seemed most likely, this strong tide would have 
 swept him away with it long before Logan had 
 come round the point. Indeed, the current was 
 so powerful that the old man had presently to 
 take to the oars again, and pull hard into the 
 quieter waters of the bay, where eventually he 
 landed, dragging the boat a little bit up on the 
 beach. 
 
 He was used to loneliness ; but this loneliness 
 had never been terrible to him before. That 
 boding cry — that piteous call for aid — seemed 
 still to linger in the air. It was so short a time 
 since he had been familiarly speaking to this 
 fellow-creature, who had been suddenly swept 
 away out of the living and breathing world. 
 In vain the old man, with long-accustomed eyes, 
 swept that vast expanse of water ; there was no 
 sign — he knew there could be no sign. It was 
 only a kind of mysterious fascination that kept
 
 THE TEMPTATION 13 
 
 him gazing on tlie wide watery plain where he 
 had seen that arm thrown up as in a last de- 
 spairing appeal for help. Help, he knew, there 
 was none now ; the stranger who had sought 
 these solitary shores had vanished for ever from 
 human ken. 
 
 There was nothing now for him but to go 
 away back to the village of Harivaig, on the 
 mainland, to acquaint the people there with 
 what had happened ; and so, with a parting 
 glance at the empty waste of sea, he set out 
 along the beach. And here, after he had gone 
 some thirty or forty yards, he came upon the 
 drowned man's clothes. He approached them 
 with a morbid curiosity, and yet with a certain 
 reluctance that was akin to fear. They looked 
 strangely like a corpse. They were dead and 
 mute, an unfamiliar and uncanny thing, lying 
 dark on the white beach. And then, as he 
 drew nearer — slowly and cautiously — he noticed 
 that there was some small object there that 
 glittered in the strong sunlight. It was a piece 
 of jewellery, lying on the empty waistcoat. He 
 went close up, his eyes still fixed on those small 
 stones that gleamed in the sun, and, although 
 he did not quite know what this thing was — it 
 wa a locket, indeed, of considerable size, with
 
 14 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 initials on tlie outside composed of alternate 
 rubies and diamonds — he recognised it as one 
 of those adornments that rich people wore. 
 And then — at what instigation, who can tell ? — 
 he bethought him of his granddaughter, Jeannie, 
 the one sole creature in the world he cared for ; 
 she was to be married in the autumn, and she 
 had nothing of this kind to give her value in 
 the eyes of her husband. The young man who 
 was going to marry her had made several 
 voyages to foreign parts, and could talk bravely 
 about the wonderful things he had seen : more- 
 over, he was a smart young fellow and had 
 saved up a little money ; the neighbours seemed 
 to consider that the granddaughter of the poor 
 old lobster-fisherman was making a very good 
 match. But if Jeannie were to wear this pretty 
 thing on her wedding-day, would not the young 
 man prize her the more ? For good looks there 
 was none to beat her on mainland or island, and 
 that everyone was ready to say ; but her grand- 
 father's hard-earned savings would be drawn 
 upon rather to give the young couple a fair 
 start in life ; she would not have fine clothes to 
 wear as a bride. But if she were to appear 
 with this pretty thing at her neck, would not 
 the young man be all the better pleased with
 
 THE TEMPTATION 15 
 
 her; and Jeannie would be proud to know 
 that he thought something of her ; and none of 
 the neighbours would any longer be fancying 
 that as regards the marriage between the two 
 young people she was getting the best of the 
 bargain ? 
 
 Old John Logan turned slowly round — as if 
 he feared to find someone watchino- him from 
 afar. But his quick, furtive glance found 
 nothing. The world was empty of all token 
 of life. There were the trending lines of the 
 bay, the placid mirror of the sea, the cloudless 
 heavens ; and he was alone with them. And 
 he was alone with this pretty thing that would 
 make his granddaughter of greater importance 
 in the eves of her husband. Of what use was 
 it now to the drowned man ? Doubtless there 
 were other things of value in these clothes if 
 he were to search — money, a gold watch, and 
 so forth ; but he would not touch any of these ; 
 for himself he wanted nothing; it was for 
 Jeannie that he coveted this bit of adornment. 
 He could hide it away somewhere. The 
 drowning of the unfortunate man would soon 
 be forgotten. And then the autumn would 
 come ; and as the wedding-day drew near he 
 would present Jeannie with this pretty toy;
 
 i6 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 and who could tell that he had not sent to 
 Glasgow for it ? 
 
 He turned round again towards the bauble 
 that had tempted him, and stood there helpless 
 and motionless for several seconds. Then he 
 knelt down upon the shingle with both knees. 
 But as he took up the locket — with a kind of 
 pretence of only examining it — his hands were 
 shaking as if he had been stricken with palsy. 
 He pushed his scrutiny farther. By accident — 
 for he knew nothing of such trinkets — he 
 happened to touch the yielding portion of the 
 gold loop attaching the locket to the watch- 
 chain ; he pressed it, and saw how he could 
 take the locket out. The next moment the 
 prize that he had feared almost to look upon 
 lay in the palm of his hand. Then he slowly 
 rose — his knees all shaking beneath him — and 
 furtively his glance searched sea and shore for 
 any sign of any living thing. Then, with 
 many a backward look — for it seemed to him 
 that there must be someone behind him, some- 
 one unseen, but watching — he crossed over the 
 grassy ridges and went down to the creek in 
 which his boat lay. His hand was shut now, 
 with a nervous and tremulous grasp. 
 
 In the boat there was some old canvas that
 
 THE TEMPTATION 17 
 
 he sometimes used in patching ujd the lobster- 
 traps ; he cut off a piece, and wrapped up in it 
 that fatal locket, with its glittering jewels ; 
 then he made his way up the hill and across to 
 the old chapel. There was no difficulty in 
 finding a hole in which to secrete his treasure ; 
 he chose one in the wall, close down to the 
 ground ; and then, having deposited the tiny 
 packet there, he went and got some stones and 
 dry earth and closed up the orifice in a rude 
 sort of fashion. But there was little light in 
 this small building ; no one could have noticed 
 that the wall had been meddled with. 
 
 And then old John Logan went down to the 
 seaside again, and launched his boat. He 
 might have taken the stranger's boat, which 
 was a good deal lighter to pull ; but he had 
 left it on the shore of the other bay, and he 
 dreaded to look again on the clothes lying 
 there. So in his own cumbrous craft he set 
 out for the mainland; and in due course of 
 time he reached the small hamlet of Harivaig, 
 which was speedily startled by the news that 
 the Englishman who had recently come thither 
 had been drowned, and that his clothes, and 
 the boat in which he had rowed himself across, 
 "would be found on the beach at Eilean-na-Keal,
 
 1 8 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 REMORSE. 
 
 JVow, the chief public functionary of Harivaig 
 and its neighbourhood was the parisb school- 
 master; and lie it was who immediately took 
 steps to apprise the relatives of the drowned 
 man of what had happened. There was no 
 difficulty about discovering who he was. His 
 private address could not be found ; but his 
 papers showed clearly enough that he was a 
 partner in the banking firm of Ramsden, Holt, 
 and Smith, of London ; and it was to them 
 that the schoolmaster addressed his communi- 
 cation. Then the clothes of the stranger were 
 brought back from the island, and also the 
 boat in which he had rowed himself across. 
 Finally, the owner of the nearest salmon-fishery 
 sent four of his men as a search-party all along 
 the coast ; but although they laboured at their 
 task industriously for the better part of two 
 days, no trace of the missing man could be 
 found. Indeed, they worked without hope : it 
 was a matter almost of certainty that the body 
 had been washed out to sea.
 
 REMORSE 19 
 
 Meanwhile, old John Logan had more than 
 once, and all by himself, been over to Eilean- 
 na-Keal, and each time he had stealthily made 
 his way to the small ruined chapel, and taken 
 forth the locket from its secret repository, and 
 regarded its gleaming white and red stones. 
 Moreover, he had accidentally discovered that 
 it would open ; and inside he found the portrait 
 of a pale-faced, delicate-featured lady, apparently 
 of middle age. On making this discovery, he 
 had hurriedly shut the trinket again — for the 
 pale face seemed to be looking strangely at 
 him ; and he had formed some dark resolution 
 of removing it, either by gentle means or force, 
 before \kiQ time came for presenting this pretty, 
 bejewelled wedding-gift to his granddaughter. 
 But even when he restricted his contemplation 
 to the outside — to the rich soft golden surface, 
 and the glittering diamonds and rubies — there 
 was not much joy in his heart. For one thing, 
 a nameless terror seemed to seize him the 
 moment he set foot on the island. He felt 
 haunted by some mysterious presence ; however 
 his anxious scrutiny might satisfy him that 
 these indented shores were devoid of human 
 life, he appeared to be always expecting some- 
 one; when he walked across the lonely little 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 knolls, oil his way to the chapel, it was as if 
 there were some living creature following him, 
 close to his shoulder, unseen but felt. And in 
 tlie dusk of the chapel itself, when he was 
 crouching down, ready to thrust back the 
 locket into the hole in the wall, he would 
 listen intently, as if fearing some footstep 
 without ; and then again, when he came forth 
 into the daylight, his dazed eyes would furtively 
 and swiftly look all around, to make sure that 
 lie was quite alone. If the time would but 
 pass more quickly ! If the days and weeks 
 could be annihilated, and his granddaughter's 
 wedding-morn be reached — then this precious 
 thing would pass into her keeping, and would 
 trouble his rest no more. For old John Logan 
 had got into a perturbed and feverish state ; 
 the drowning of the stranger had made a great 
 commotion in this quiet neighbourhood ; and 
 Logan, as the last person who had seen him, 
 had to answer innumerable questions — that 
 sometimes seemed to bewilder and frighten him 
 by their unexpectedness. 
 
 One morning the old man's granddaughter 
 Jeannie was seated on the rude bench outside 
 the cottage. She had got early finished with 
 her household work, and iiow she was hemming
 
 REMORSE 21 
 
 some haDdkercliiefs — most likely part of her 
 home-made trousseau — while she sung to her- 
 self the cheerful air of " I'll gang nae mair to 
 yon town" without particular regard to the 
 words. She was a good-looking lass of the 
 darker Celtic type — coal-black hair, a com- 
 plexion as fresh and clear as a June wild rose, 
 dark blue-grey eyes with black lashes, and a 
 pretty and smiling mouth. She was rather 
 neatly dressed, and seemed very well content 
 with herself; indeed, the neighbours were 
 inclined to be indignant among themselves 
 over the fashion in which old John Loo-an 
 spoiled his pretty granddaughter. Neverthe- 
 less, Jeannie Logan (as she was called, though 
 her name was properly Jeannie Carmichael) 
 was a kind of favourite, and that despite the 
 fact of her small house being kept a good deal 
 more trim and tidy than any other in Harivaig. 
 
 The old man came out of the cottage, and 
 was going off for the shore, when his grand- 
 daughter stopped him. 
 
 " Grandfather," said she (but she spoke in 
 Gaelic), " will you not stay at home to-day ? 
 Archie is coming over from Usgary." 
 
 " What should I stay at home for ? " was 
 the answer (also in Gaelic). "When two young
 
 22 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 people are going to get married they have 
 plenty to talk of by themselves ; it does not 
 need the old man of Ross to tell us that." 
 
 The young woman's cheeks flushed a littloj 
 but she laughed all the same. 
 
 " I know," she said, '' that everyone thinks 
 we talk of nothing but nonsense. Well, it is 
 not of much consequence what any of them are 
 thinking. But you remember, grandfather, 
 that the valuing of the nets was to be done 
 this week ; and Archie was writing to me that 
 he would like to have your opinion." 
 
 " My opinion ! " the old man said, testily. 
 " What is the use of my opinion ? What do 
 I know about herring-nets that I have not 
 seen ? 
 
 Their conversation was interrupted. There 
 was a sound of wheels — a most unusual sound 
 in this unfrequented neighbourhood — and pre- 
 sently there came in sight a waggonette and 
 two horses. As the carriage drove past, a 
 clear enough view of the occupants could be 
 obtained ; and these were seen to be a young 
 lady of about seventeen or eighteen, fair-com- 
 plexioned, and in deep mourning, and a tall 
 and elderly gentleman who sat o]3posite her in 
 the body of the waggonette. The moment they
 
 REMORSE 23 
 
 had gone by, Jeannie Logau turned eagerly to 
 lier grandfather. 
 
 "Do you know who these are?" she said. 
 " For I know. These must be the friends of 
 the gentleman who was drowned. And they 
 will be wanting to see you, grandfather — I am 
 sure of it ; so you must go indoors at once, and 
 put on a white collar, and your black coat." 
 
 " But for what will they want to see me ? " 
 the old man said, with a quick look of appre- 
 hension on his face. 
 
 " Well, you brought the news over from 
 Eilean-na-Keal ; and you were the last that 
 saw the gentleman, and spoke to him. I 
 should not wonder if that was his daughter — 
 poor young lady, this will be a sad day for her. 
 G-randfather, go away and put on your black 
 coat; for they will be coming to see you, or 
 sending for you." 
 
 And she was right. Not a quarter of an 
 hour had elapsed when a messenger came from 
 the inn to say that the daughter of the gentle- 
 man who had been drowned was there, and 
 that she wished to see John Logan, if he would 
 be so kind as to come along. In the meantime, 
 the old man had taken his granddaughter's 
 advice — indeed, he allowed himself to be
 
 ±A THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 governed by Ler in all such matters — and put 
 on his Sunday clothes. As he was setting out 
 with the messenger, Jeaunie Logan placed her 
 hand on his arm for a moment, and said in a 
 low voice, 
 
 " Grandfather, I think the young lady will 
 be for going over to Eilean-na-Keal. Well, if 
 the people have any sense, they will not allow 
 her, for it will break her heart." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " he said, eagerly. " You are a 
 wise lass, Jeannie ; she should not go over to 
 Eilean-na-Keal. No, no ; what is the use of 
 her going over to Eilean-na-Keal ? " 
 
 And this is what he seemed to be pondering 
 over all the way to the inn ; for again and 
 again he said in a half-muttering way to his 
 companion. 
 
 " Ay, she is a wise lass is Jeannie. She has 
 an old head on young shoulders. Why should 
 the young lady be for going over to Eilean-na- 
 Keal ? " 
 
 But when at length he reached the inn, and 
 was ushered into the parlour where the strangers 
 were, there was no more speech left in him. 
 This tall, fair-haired girl — whose face was wan 
 and pale, and looked all the paler because of her 
 deep mourning — when she came forward in a
 
 REMORSE 25 
 
 pathetic kind of way to take his liand, startled 
 him beyond measure. Had he not seen her 
 before, or someone strangely like her ? And 
 then in a bewildered fashion he thonG:ht of the 
 face in the locket — the face that he had feared. 
 This was the daughter, then : that, the mother. 
 And he seemed incapable of meeting the steady 
 glance of those plaintive eyes that regarded him 
 so strangely ; he was breathless, irresolute, ner- 
 vous ; he intertwisted his fingers ; he had no 
 answer for the questions which the elderly 
 gentleman, the young lady's companion, put to 
 him. The landlady, a placid-looking, middle- 
 aged woman, had taken the liberty of remaining 
 in the room. 
 
 " He is not used to the English, sir," she 
 said. " He will tell you when he thinks over 
 it. 
 
 " And will you not sit down ? " the young- 
 lady said very gently to him ; and she herself 
 pulled out a chair from the wall. For her the 
 violence of grief seemed over and gone ; she 
 was outwardly resigned and calm ; it was only 
 at times that tears swam into her eyes, and she 
 appeared anxious to hide her emotion from these 
 strangers. 
 
 " Yes, sit down, and take your own time,"
 
 26 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 her companion, who was a Mr. Holt, said to old 
 John Logan. " Just think over it, and tell us 
 at your leisure how Mr. Ramsden came to the 
 island, and what he said to you, and what was 
 the last you saw of him. You can understand 
 that his daughter is very anxious to know." 
 
 And then the old man, halting and hesitating 
 at every few words, told his tale. Except for 
 the matter of his English, it ought to have 
 come readily enough to him, for he had narrated 
 it, to the minutest circumstances, again and 
 again among the neighbours. It was notice- 
 able, however, that now he kept his eyes fixed 
 on the ground, and that his narrative was a 
 kind of appeal ; he was as a culprit endeavour- 
 ing to justify himself; and over and over he 
 repeated that no man could have pulled harder 
 than he did to try to reach the drowning 
 swimmer. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure of that — I am sure of that ! " 
 the girl said, piteously. " And — we will not 
 forget it." 
 
 He did not appear to understand what she 
 meant, so anxious was he to exonerate himself. 
 
 " There wass the two points to go round," he 
 repeated once more. " When I wass on the top 
 of the land I wass nearer to him — oh, yes — and
 
 REMORSE 27 
 
 I could hef run down to the watterside — and — ■ 
 and been nearer — but no use that would be. I 
 hef not been sweeming since I wass a young 
 man ; I could not get out to bim. And when I 
 went back to the boat there wass the two points 
 to go round — a long web it was to pull, and the 
 tide running strong — and I pulled as well as I 
 could. I pulled as hard as ever I wass pulling 
 ahl my life " 
 
 " Indeed, I am sure you did your best ! " said 
 she — for it seemed pitiable that this old man 
 should think it ^needful to appeal to her and 
 justify himself. 
 
 " Well," said her companion, seeing that 
 Logan's narrative had come to an end, " we 
 have sent for a boat. Miss Ramsden would 
 like to go across to the island ; and if you have 
 time to come with us you could show her the 
 place where you last saw her father. Will you 
 add this further obligation to what we already 
 owe you ? " 
 
 Old Logan was stupefied. In Gaelic he 
 might have remonstrated, and pointed out 
 that it would only be harrowing the feelings 
 of the young lady ; but his English was not 
 effective for any such purpose ; he had merely 
 to acquiesce in silence ; and so it befell that
 
 28 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 when the sahiion fisherman's boat, with a crew 
 of four stalwart rowers, had been brought along, 
 the orphaned girl and her friend, and old John 
 Logan, too, went down to the shore, and pre- 
 sently were being taken across the smooth plain 
 of water to Eilean-na-Keal. 
 
 She was showing a wonderful fortitude. No 
 sooner had she landed than she began asking 
 the most particular questions — apparently 
 anxious to construct for herself a complete 
 picture of those last minutes of her father's life. 
 Where did he pull his boat up on the beach ? 
 Where w^as he, Logan ? What were her father's 
 first words ? In what direction did the two of 
 them go to explore the island, and what was 
 the subject of their talk ? Thus it was that the 
 old man came to recall and repeat every single 
 sentence that had been uttered between them. 
 He told her of his complaints about Corstorphine. 
 He told her of the approaching marriage of his 
 granddaughter ; of the young man who wanted 
 to purchase a share in a herring-smack ; of his 
 own wish to help him in that matter ; of the 
 small prices he was getting for the lobsters ; of 
 his asking her father if he did not know Cor- 
 storphine, that perhaps he might remonstrate. 
 
 " But you need not let that trouble you," she
 
 REMORSE 29 
 
 said, gently ; " I will take care you have enough 
 money to buy the share in the boat." 
 
 He started somewhat, and stared at her. 
 
 "You, Mem? Oh, no, Mem! I could not be 
 thinking of tekking money from you ! " he said, 
 with a curious earnestness that seemed to have 
 something of dread in it. 
 
 For during all the time that they had been 
 coming over in the boat, and all the time he 
 had been talking to her on the island, the con- 
 viction was growing deeper in his heart that he 
 had robbed this grief-stricken girl, and that 
 without the possibility of restitution. When he 
 had originally taken the locket it seemed the 
 property of no one. Its owner was gone away 
 out of this world ; he could never come back to 
 reclaim it ; it did not belong to him any more. 
 But now the old man knew that it belonged to 
 this gentle-spoken young lady, who was over- 
 whelmed with her sorrow. That was her 
 mother's portrait, sure enough. And here — 
 althouo'h he had robbed her of what must be of 
 exceeding value to her — here she was proposing 
 to do him some substantial act of kindness. 
 The mere thought of it terrified him, somehow. 
 It seemed to aggravate his guilt. Had he not 
 ilone her enough wrong ? And what would b^
 
 30 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 the luck of the herring-smack if part of its pur- 
 chase-money came through his hands that were 
 stained with crime ? 
 
 They were approaching the ruined chapel — 
 he rather lingering behind her. He was re- 
 luctant to go near ; he would not enter by 
 the narrow porch ; he would have dissuaded 
 her from going further if only he had dared. 
 And yet what could have been more simple, if 
 this anguish of remorse and contrition was 
 becoming unbearable, than for him to have gone 
 courageously forward and taken out the locket 
 from its hiding-place, confessed his fault, and 
 begged for her forgiveness ? She seemed a 
 kind and sympathetic creature; she was pro- 
 foundly grateful to him for the efforts, however 
 futile, he had made to rescue her father. Surely 
 she would accept this, all the reparation he 
 could make, and grant him pardon ? 
 
 But that was not at all how the matter 
 appeared to old John Logan. In his mind the 
 English were a great and powerful and terrible 
 people. Sailors had told him again and again 
 of the vast men-of-war coming into the Clyde, 
 of their enormous cannon, and of the thunder 
 that shook the world when the huge guns were 
 fired. The dread powers of government were
 
 REMORSE 31 
 
 in England ; the Queen was there, and Parlia- 
 ment, and the Tower that prisoners were thrown 
 into. And if he confessed that he had robbed 
 an English person, would he not be dragged 
 away to that stranger country, and perhaps 
 hanged ? The EngHsh were a strong, terrible, 
 and vindictive race — so he had heard many a 
 time, in stories current in his boyhood's day. 
 Not to them dared he appeal for mercy. If *he 
 made this confession, her forgiveness would 
 avail him nothing ; the inexorable powers of 
 the law would seize him, and how would it be 
 with his granddaughter Jeannie if he was taken 
 away to the south and hanged ? 
 
 He was less anxious and perturbed when the 
 young lady came out of the chapel, and once 
 more submitted to his guidance. In fact, they 
 were following step by step the careless saunter 
 that her father had little thought to be his last ; 
 until, finally, Logan took her to the ridge over- 
 looking the fatal bay, and showed her, as well 
 as he could, the precise spot at which the 
 drowning man had disappeared. It was so 
 lonely, this outlook. She gazed upon it with 
 a kind of shrinking terror. Calm as the sea 
 was, it seemed a cruel, secret, dreadful thing. 
 The silence was awful. She stood there a lono-
 
 33 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 while ; and it was not until she was coming 
 away that her forced composure entirely broke 
 down. She had turned to cast one long, final, 
 lingering glance tov^ards these empty shores 
 and the voiceless plain of the sea ; and it was 
 perhaps some sense of her complete orphanhood 
 that was borne in upon her, or perhaps a feel- 
 ing that this was a last farewell. But she gave 
 way altogether, and, sinking to the ground, 
 buried her head in her hands, and sobbed and 
 cried passionately and bitterly. 
 
 " Edith ! " her companion said to her, and ho 
 put his hand gently on her shoulder. " Edith, 
 come away now ! Indeed, you must come 
 away ! 
 
 He assisted her to rise ; and then, with bent 
 head and uncertain footsteps, she made her way 
 back to the boat. During the long pull to the 
 mainland, she turned once or twice to regard 
 the small island set amid the calm seas. This 
 was indeed farewell. 
 
 Immediately on their arrival at the inn, Mr. 
 Holt began to make preparations for their 
 return to the south ; for it was useless allowing 
 the girl to remain in this sad neighbourhood. 
 He got his late j)^^i"tner's effects put together, 
 and without much examination ; for, finding
 
 REMORSE 33 
 
 watcli, money, and papers all intact, he did not 
 deem it necessary to make further inquirj^, and 
 it certainly never occurred to him at such a 
 time to ask the bereaved daughter about 
 trinkets. The men belonging to the salmon- 
 fishery were liberally rewarded for their two 
 days' search. Then came the question of 
 Logan ; and here it was fortunate that Archie 
 MacEachran, who was to marry the old man's 
 granddaughter, happened this very day to have 
 come over from Usgary. Mr. Holt sent for 
 him, and he came : a pleasant-looking, light- 
 haired young fellow he was, with a quick, alert 
 eye, though he was somewhat bashful in 
 manner. Mr. Holt had arranged to see him 
 alone. 
 
 " I understand you are to marry John Logan's 
 granddaughter," the banker said to him forth- 
 with, " and that there is some question of your 
 buying a share in a herring-smack. Now, Miss 
 Ramsden is very much interested in the old 
 man — and grateful to him for having done 
 what he could to rescue her father when he 
 was drowning ; and she would like to do some- 
 thing to show her gratitude. He seemed dis- 
 turbed when she suggested money; I don't 
 know why that should be so ; but it has
 
 34 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 occurred to me that it might be managed in 
 this way — he intends helping you to buy the 
 share in the boat " 
 
 " Ay, but there's the two ways of it," said 
 this young man eagerly, and he could speak 
 English freely enough, if still with a consider- 
 able accent ; " he wass wanting me to tek the 
 money abltogether, and I did not like the look 
 of that, for he has not mich, and the look of it 
 \vould be that I was being paid for marrying 
 his granddaughter. No, I said, I will tek a 
 loan of the money, and I will pay you back. 
 The Kate and Bella is a lucky boat; the 
 Macdowell brothers that hef her, each one of 
 them hass money in the savings-bank ; and 
 now that one of them thinks he can do better 
 by buying sheep and tekking them to the 
 trysts, it is a good chance for me to get his 
 share in the smack. Old John Logan — well, 
 he will be wanting his own savings when he 
 gets too old to look after the lobster-traps ; and 
 besides that he will hef to be paying some 
 young girl to mind the house for him, when 
 Jeannie Loo-an comes to me. But if he will 
 lend me the money, ferry well ; and I will pay 
 him back when T can." 
 
 " I think you take a very sensible view of
 
 REMORSE 35 
 
 the Hi'tuation," the banker said. " How much 
 is tliis loan that you require ? " 
 
 " Well, I hef got ahl the money except about 
 twenty-four pounds." 
 
 " Twenty-four pounds," Mr. Holt repeated. 
 " Miss Ramsden thouglit of giving the old man 
 something bigger than that. However, it can 
 be managed in this way : we will make you 
 a loan of fifty pounds, and you will covenant 
 to pay it back to John Logan, in instalments — 
 extending over three years if you like. We 
 will tell him that we have advanced you this 
 loan on his account — to give you a fair start 
 in your married life — and to preserve his small 
 savings for his own need; and I dare say he 
 won't mind taking the money in that indirect 
 way." 
 
 " Not him, sir," the young man said, with a 
 smile. " He knows the value of money as well 
 as anyone. Some of them will be for saying 
 that old John Logan is not ferry wise in the 
 head ; but I think he is clever enough about 
 that ; he can tell you ferry well what is due to 
 him for interest, and how the book stands — that 
 I know fine ! " 
 
 " That's all right, then," Mr, Holt said, rising 
 • — and the other rose too, and stepped towards 
 
 i> 2
 
 36 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 the door. '' There will be some papers for you 
 to sign. Write your full name and address on 
 an envelope, and leave it for me with the land- 
 lady before you go. You will hear later on." 
 
 " I thank ye, sir ; I thank ye," the young 
 man said ; but even with the door open ho 
 lingered, standing there shamefacedly. 
 
 " There's — there's something more," he stam- 
 mered. " Maybe — I don't know how to say it, 
 but if you were to tell the young lady that we 
 thanked her for her kindness — and — and more 
 than that — that there's not one of us — not one 
 of us — but would rather not hef it at ahl if we 
 could get her father back to her alive." 
 
 The banker stepped forward and took the 
 young man's hand for a moment. 
 
 "I will give her the message. She is a 
 kind-hearted girl. In this case I think her 
 kindness has been well bestowed." 
 
 And so the strangers went away ; and the 
 little hamlet of Harivaig returned to its normal 
 condition of slumberous quiet. But this peace 
 brought no comfort to the mind of old John 
 Logan. Ever before him was the remembrance 
 of the grief stricken young lady, pale and sad- 
 eyed, who had accompanied him over the 
 island ; and he knew that the portrait of" her
 
 REMORSE 37 
 
 mother, that by right belonged to her, was 
 hidden away in the small chapel, and that he 
 dared not bring it forth into the light. He 
 had lost all intention now of giving the jewelled 
 trinket to his 'granddaughter Jeannie, to adorn 
 her on her wedding day. Even if the portrait 
 were cut out, and deep buried in the earth, 
 there would be something about the locket itself 
 that he could not face. It was no longer flotsam 
 and jetsam ; it belonged to the beautiful, gentle- 
 hearted girl who had been so kind to him and 
 his : he had robbed her — as a requital of her 
 bounty towards them. 
 
 The neighbours remarked that old John 
 Logan was growing still more strange in his 
 ways. He had hardly a word for anyone now. 
 He seemed morose and depressed; he would 
 not even talk about the purchase of the share 
 in the Kate and Bella — though that was known 
 to be a great thing for young MacEachran and 
 Jeannie Logan ; and he did not go over to 
 Eilean-na-Keal as often as he used to do, even 
 when the weather was quite fine. Moreover, 
 in the little Free Church building half-way on 
 the road to Usgary, to which the Harivaig 
 people walked every Sabbath morning, they 
 noticed that, more than once, when the Minister
 
 38 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 was making a fervent appeal to the consciences 
 of his people, John Logan, with downbent head, 
 would answer with a perfectly audible moan. 
 Some said that the old man was grown odder 
 than ever in his ways simply because of the 
 solitary life that he led out at the lobster- 
 baskets. Others hinted that the sight of the 
 stranger drowning had frightened him, and 
 that he had never been quite the same since. 
 While others again maintained that it was 
 merely the going away of his granddaughter 
 that was preying on his mind, and that lie 
 would soon get accustomed to it, once the 
 wedding was over. 
 
 " Grandfather," said Jeannie Logan to him 
 one night — an open Bible was lying on the 
 table before him, and she had heard him sigh 
 heavily once or twice, as if in great distress or 
 pain, " grandfather, is there anything wrong 
 with you ? " 
 
 " There is something wrong with me," he 
 answered, in the Glaelic, " that will never be 
 made right in this world." 
 
 " What is it, grandfather ? " she asked, in 
 sudden alarm. 
 
 But he would not speak ; and as the days 
 went by matters seemed to grow worse with
 
 REMORSE 39 
 
 liim. The neighbours wondered ; but his grand- 
 daughter could tell them nothing. At last there 
 came one evening — he had got down the Bible, 
 as usual, and as it was almost dark, she was 
 just about to light the lamp. 
 
 " Jeannie," said he, " I have something to say 
 to you." 
 
 " Yes, grandfather ? " 
 
 "You have been a good lass to me in this 
 house ; and you will make a good wife. I could 
 not wish to see you better married. The lad 
 will do well. And you will say nothing to 
 anyone to-night, nor yet in the morning ; but 
 to-morrow morning I am going away." 
 
 " Going away, grandfather ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Why, where are you going ? " 
 
 " I am going away," he said — and as she lit 
 the lamp at this moment, she was startled to 
 find that there were tears running down the 
 old man's face. "I am going away — to — to 
 Greenock — and maybe further than that, and 
 maybe I will never come back to Harivaig. 
 But you have been a good lass — and you will 
 make a good wife." 
 
 " Grandfather," said she, suddenly, " are you 
 going away ou my account ? Is it because I 
 am going to be married ? "
 
 40 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 *' No, no ; it is not that. I am glad that you 
 will have a house of your own and a husband to 
 look after you. It is not that ; it is of no use for 
 you to know ; and if any of them ask you where 
 I have gone, you can say I am away by the 
 Dunara Castle to the south. Be a good lass, 
 Jeanuie, be a good lass ; you will have a house 
 of your own now; and the lad will do well." 
 
 All her prayers and entreaties and expostula- 
 tions were of no avail ; she could get no further 
 answer from him ; nay, he enjoined her to 
 silence ; and early in the morning — long before 
 the hamlet of Harivaig was awake — she heard 
 him open the door and set out. He had started 
 on his long and weary tramp to the nearest 
 port at which the Dunara Castle called. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 During that long sea-voyage to Greenock old 
 John Logan saw many strange things, but 
 nothing so strange as the termination of it, 
 when, just after nightfall, the steamer slowly 
 glided into its appointed berth alongside the
 
 A PILGRIMAGE 41 
 
 quay. He had never beheld a large town 
 before; and ahhough this town was invisible, 
 the amazing extent of it could be guessed from 
 its bewildering glare — rows of points of yellow 
 fire gleaming afar, as if along unknown hills, 
 fiercer white lights, and green lamps, and red 
 lamps, down here in the harbour, while the 
 very heavens overhead were irradiated by a 
 dull, sombre, steady glow. When Logan, with 
 his small bundle in his hand, left the gangway, 
 and found himself stranded on the quay — amid 
 these hurrying black figures, and the bewilder- 
 ing gas-lamps, and general confusion and noise 
 — he knew not which way to turn. What he 
 had in his mind was to find out the steamer 
 that would carry him on to London ; but how 
 was he to discover her whereabouts in the 
 dark ? He had been told on board the Dunara 
 Castle that there was such a steamer — the 
 Anchor Line, they said. But he knew not 
 where nor whom to ask ; indeed, he was some- 
 what dazed, not to say frightened ; he stood there 
 irresolute, watching men and things pass by him 
 as in some black and appalling nightmare. 
 
 And then, cautiously and fearfully, he began 
 his quest, wandering like a ghost round the 
 dimly-lit basins and docks. But all these
 
 4, THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 vessels seemed dead. He made bold to ask cue 
 or two of the solitary passers-by ; bat they did 
 not stay to answer this old man with his 
 hesitating speech and unintelligible qnestions 
 At last one of them, more civil than his 
 predecessors, did stop for a second to ascer am 
 what the old man wanted; and then, with a 
 curt " Shell be doon the morn," he went on his 
 
 way as^ain. ^ . 
 
 So there was the long night to be passed m 
 this terrible place. He began to look at the 
 houses, wondering whether he dared ask at any 
 of them for a night's lodging. His stock of 
 money was small; and he wished to hoard it; 
 for what was yet before him was all unknown. 
 Moreover, a night in the open was nothing to 
 him-had it been on the sea, that is, or on the 
 shores of an island; what a night m the 
 streets of a town might be, he knew not. Me 
 wandered on. He came upon a wider thorough- 
 fare where there was an amazing concourse ot 
 people-a double stream of people, passing 
 along the pavement, under the gas-lamps, m 
 front of the blazing windows of the shops. 
 There were shouts and cries ; there was a roar 
 and rattle of wheels ; the lights fell on all kinds 
 of strange faces, many of them grimy and dis-
 
 A PILGRIMAGE 43 
 
 figured, some with unkempt hair and dissolute 
 features, others loud-laughing with a ghastly 
 mirth. It was like some kind of Pandemonium, 
 into which he might fall, and be swept away ; 
 he shrank back from it ; he hid himself in the 
 gloom of one of the by-streets, and gazed forth 
 upon it with an insatiable, terrified curiosity. 
 And then he thought the neighbourhood of the 
 docks would be safer for him. He would feel 
 more at his ease if he were near the water ; so 
 he turned his back upon that flaming, roaring, 
 turbulent highway, and set out through the 
 silence of the dark little thoroughfare to reach 
 the harbour and the quays. 
 
 He had proceeded some way down this little 
 by-street when the prevailing quietude was 
 broken in upon by the distant raucous voice of 
 someone bawling " Ye Banks and Braes " to 
 the discordant accompaniment of a concertina. 
 Presently two figures loomed in sight — one of 
 them flinging his arms about as he made this 
 hideous din with the concertina ; the other 
 growling and cursing at his companion for the 
 noise he was making. They proved to be two 
 great hulking fellows — loafers about the docks, 
 most likely ; and as they came up to old John 
 Logan, one of them, a beetle-browed, surly-
 
 44 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 looking dog, angrily knocked the concertina 
 out of his neighbour's hands, so as to ensure 
 some kind of silence, while he proceeded, 
 apparently from mere ill-temper, to cross- 
 question John Logan as to how he came to be 
 there and what he wanted. The old man, 
 suspecting no ill, told him in his hesitating 
 English that he was waiting for the steamer 
 that was next day going to London, and that 
 he was not sure whether to ask somewhere for 
 a bed. By this time the brawling musician 
 had quieted down, and seemed much interested 
 in the stranger. 
 
 " Ye auld gomeril," said he, with rough 
 jocularity, " what are ye aboot ? Do ye no 
 ken that my freen' here's the captain o' the 
 verra steamer ye're gaun' in — ay, as sure 's 
 death : what for would I tell ye a lee ? And 
 dinna ye ken that she's already cam' doon frae 
 Glesca — she's lying in the harbour, man, and 
 what's to prevent yer ganging on board and 
 getting a nicht's rest in yer ain berth ? " 
 
 " Ay, could I do that ? " old Logan said, 
 eagerly : here was just the fulfilment of his 
 most anxious wishes — to get on board the vessel 
 at once, and know that he was safe bound for 
 London.
 
 A PILGRIMAGE 45 
 
 " Of course ye can ! " the other said, gaily ; 
 while the heavy-browed ruffian stood silently 
 by and watched. " There's my freen' the cap- 
 tain : speak him fair, and he'll put ye on 
 board directly, and ye'll have yer ain bunk. 
 Ye've got yer passage-money ! " 
 
 " Ay," answered the old man. 
 
 " And maybe something ower ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay — maybe," Logan said, with some 
 hesitation. 
 
 " Ye'll have to pay yer passage-money afore 
 ye gang on board — that's the rule in this line o' 
 steamers," said the musician, who was gradually 
 losing his boisterously facetious tone, and attend- 
 ing to this matter in a strictly business fashion. 
 *' And the best thing for ye will be to step 
 round to the captain's house — it's no very far 
 frae here — and we'll just settle up at once, and 
 then ye'll gang strecht on board. It's no safe 
 for an auld man like you to be wanderin' about 
 Greenock streets : ye'll be far better on board 
 the ship. Come on ! " 
 
 Old Logan suspected nothing. He had seen 
 captains of coasting-vessels no better dressed 
 than either of these men ; and he was not likely 
 to know the difference between the master of 
 a trading-smack and the master of an Anchor
 
 46 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 Liner. But, indeed, it was his extreme anxiety 
 to get at once on board the steamer that 
 induced him to consent. Without further 
 scruple he accompanied the two strangers — 
 down this street, across another, and along a 
 third, until they stopped at a certain " close." 
 This close or entrance was pitch-dark ; but the 
 concertina-player led the way, old Logan follow- 
 ing, and groping with his hands along the wall, 
 the surly-browed scoundrel bringing up the 
 rear. Then they had to ascend a stair, also in 
 absolute darkness ; but at the second landing a 
 door was opened, and that gave some small indi- 
 cation of their whereabouts. They entered the 
 liouse. It seemed empty, for there was not a 
 sound of any kind ; however, by the dull light 
 of a small lamp in the lobby the old Highlander 
 was ushered into a room, and there the leader 
 of the party struck a match and lit a candle 
 that was on the chimney-piece. It was a diugy 
 little den ; but Logan was not thinking of his 
 surroundings : it was the steamer that con- 
 cerned him. 
 
 The door was made fast behind them : the 
 candle was placed on the table. 
 
 "Now, my decent old freen'," the concertina- 
 player began, resuming his jocular manner,
 
 A PILGRIMAGE 47 
 
 " we'll jist settle this business at once. Out 
 wi' the little bits o' dibs ! And ye may just as 
 weel hand us ower the lot : ye'll no want any 
 money till ye get to London. Come on ! — let's 
 see what ye've got. Is't in a stocking? I'm 
 vexed I canna offer ye a dram to croon the 
 bargain ; but never mind — just hand us ower 
 what ye've got, and I'll gie ye a receipt at 
 Marti'mas." 
 
 And now it was that old John Logan began 
 to realise the position in which he found him- 
 self; and it was impossible to say which was 
 the more disquieting — this bantering that was 
 growing near to bullying, or the sinister silence 
 with which the other confederate stood and 
 looked on. 
 
 " I'll — I'Jl pay when I get on board the 
 steamer," the old man said, and instinctively 
 he turned and glanced towards the door. 
 
 " Will ye now ? " the concertina-player re- 
 joined, with a burst of laughter. " Weel, that's 
 a guid ane ! Ye're a funny auld deevle ! " He 
 put both elbows on the table, rested his head in 
 his hands, and stared mockingly at old Logan. 
 '' Do ye no think this is a fine, quate place to 
 do our wee bit o' business ? Ye wadna disap- 
 point the captain ? If ye speak bim fair, maybe
 
 48 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 he'll leave ye the price o' a dram. I'm getting 
 awfu'drymyseV;andIwi.hye'dbnngo 
 
 tbey bonBie pound-notes-or is it am halt 
 croons and shillins, in a nice wee bag ? 
 
 But here his accomplice broke m impatiently. 
 " Oh, stop your jaw ! " he said ; and then he 
 turned to Logan : " Here, oot wi that money ! 
 
 " Ay, that's it, Tam," the other said, com- 
 Bhcently " you get the money, and I U just hae 
 f look at the b'undle-maybe there's a braw 
 saytin waistcoat that'll dae for my weddm 
 
 He reached across, and would have seized the 
 bundle, but that the old man-now thoroughly 
 alarmed-snatched it out of his grasp and made 
 forthwith for the door. Instantly the more 
 taciturn of the two scoundrels placed himse f m 
 his way; whereupon Logan, wild with flight 
 dropped his bundle, and gripped the man with 
 both hands, to hurl him on one side The 
 attack was so sudden-the strength of the old 
 man so unexpected-that this heavy-bmlt brute 
 was taken aback-his one foot tripped over the 
 ,ther-he staggered a step or two and fell 
 headlong before he had time to clutch at any- 
 thing but the useless wall. Logan turned in 
 hast: to pick up his bundle, only o find that 
 the other bully was rushing at him with an
 
 A PILGRIMAGE 49 
 
 uplifted poker. The blow would have fallen on 
 his head, but that he warded it off with his arm; 
 and then, in desperation, he drove at this fellow 
 as he had driven at the other — with the whole 
 weight of his heavy shoulders — sending him 
 crashing against the table. In an instant every- 
 thing was in blackness. The candle had been 
 knocked over. And now, for a moment, it was 
 just possible that the old man might have got 
 safely away if he could have found the door at 
 once; but instead of the door he stumbled 
 against the more burly of the two ruffians, who 
 seized and tried to hold him, while the other, 
 with the most horrible threats and imprecations, 
 was endeavouring to find a match to light the 
 candle. And no sooner was the room lit again 
 than the scrimma2:e recommenced ; for the old 
 man fought with the fury of a wild cat. It was 
 not his money he was fighting for, nor yet his 
 little bundle of clothes, but for the safety of a 
 certain treasure sewn up in the lining of his 
 coat, of the existence of which they little 
 dreamed. Of course, such an unequal struggle 
 could have but one end. A blow on the head 
 with the poker knocked him senseless ; and he 
 knew no more. 
 
 When he came to himself — he had no idea 
 
 E
 
 50 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 how long thereafter— there was a fierce glare of 
 yellow light striking into his dazed eyes. It 
 was a policeman's lantern. He was lying on 
 the pavement outside ; and when the policeman 
 helped him up to a sitting position, it was seen 
 that his white hair was bedabbled with blood. ^ ^^ 
 " Ye're an auld chap to hae been fecntm , 
 the policeman said, in no unkindly way. "How 
 came ye to be in such a state as this ? Ye re no 
 drunk, too ! Weel, ye 11 hae to get up and gang 
 wi' me to the office, and gie an account ot 
 
 yoursel'.' , 
 
 But the first thing that old John Logan did 
 on regaining consciousness was quickly to put 
 his hand to his side. It was enough. He felt the 
 hard substance there under the cloth. They 
 had robbed him of his little bundle of clothes, 
 and plundered him of every penny, but they had 
 not discovered the jewelled trinket, the restitu- 
 tion of which would make such reparation as was 
 now possible, and perchance mitigate in some 
 measure the remorse and anguish of his soul. 
 Obediently, like a child, he did what the polic-e- 
 nian told him. He gave him what account he 
 could of the circumstances leading up to the 
 robbery, and of the robbery itself; but he could 
 not say which of the " closes " m this dark httle
 
 A PILGRIMAGE 51 
 
 thoroughfare was the one he had been induced 
 to enter, for the thieves had taken the precau- 
 tion of dragging him some little way along 
 the pavement after fetching him out. And 
 obediently, if somewhat slowly — for he was faint 
 and weak from want of blood — he accompanied 
 the policeman to the station. Here he told his 
 story over again, and had the wounds on his 
 head dressed ; and the inspector on duty, find- 
 ing that the old man had been left without a 
 farthing, would have allov/ed him to pass the 
 night in one of the cells. But John Logan 
 would not hear of that ; nor would he listen to 
 the proposal that he should remain in Greenock 
 for a time to see whether the detectives could 
 not discover the thieves who had robbed him, 
 and perhaps get back some of the stolen pro- 
 perty. His mind was set on London. The 
 steamer was coming down the Clyde the next 
 day. If he had no money, perhaps they would 
 let him work his passage as a deck hand. So, 
 as well as he was able, he thanked the people 
 at the police-office for their kind treatment of 
 him, and went forth again into the night. 
 
 But this time, while he was still anxious to 
 get down to the harbour, with the vague 
 instinct that he would somehow be safer near 
 
 E 2
 
 52 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 the water, he kept to the thoroughfares where 
 he saw plenty of people. In this wise he made 
 his way along Cathcart Street, and down the 
 lane leading to the Custom House, until at 
 length he found himself on the quay. Out 
 there was the black water ; and afar he could 
 see the red and green sailing-lights ot the 
 steamers passing up and down the estuary. 
 There was hardly anyone on this wide, open 
 breadth of stone ; so he wandered along, looking 
 for some corner of a shed where he might rest 
 for the night. For it was getting late ; and the 
 old man was weak and exhausted ; moreover, 
 there was a singing in his head that seemed to 
 stupefy him ; so that, when he happened m his 
 wandering search to come upon a barrow that 
 was chained to a post-it was dark here, and 
 he thought no one would disturb him— he crept 
 on to it, and lay down with his arm for a 
 pillow, and with his other hand clasped over the 
 jewelled toy that had brought him so much 
 tribulation.
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 53 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 
 But there was not mucli sleep for old John 
 Logan. His circumstances were too desperate. 
 He gave up the hope of being able to work his 
 passage to London ; they would not take an 
 old white-haired man. Nor did he think of 
 going by road ; the distance, to his imagination, 
 was immeasurable ; he would die of hunger by 
 the way. And if that were to be the end, there 
 would be no restitution and atonement ; his 
 secret would be buried with him ; there would 
 be no chance of begging for forgiveness from 
 the gentle-voiced, sad-eyed young lady who had 
 been so kind to them all. Nay, on the awful 
 day of Judgment, when he was arraigned as a 
 thief, would she not be there, summoned to con- 
 front him as his accuser ? How could he make 
 known then what his contrition had been ? She 
 would stand opposite him ; she would recognise 
 him as the man for whose grand-daughter she 
 had done so much ; and she would know him 
 to be a thief London seemed the width of 
 worlds away. And so was Harivaig, too, to
 
 54 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 one who was penniless. He could not get 
 back, if he had wished to get back. But he 
 did not wish it. His life contained but one 
 burning desire, and all things else were unre- 
 garded. So the night passed, in fruitless long- 
 ings ; in wild, pathetic visions of fulfilment ; in 
 the contemplation of failure, and leaden despair ; 
 and as he lay there, worn out and sleepless, 
 with an aching head and a heavy heart, there 
 gradually came into the eastern heavens a wan 
 grey light that broadened and widened up until 
 the new day was shining over land and sea. 
 
 He rose from his hard and restless couch, and 
 looked around him with dazed eyes. The wide 
 waters of the Firth were all of a shimmering 
 grey; far away on the other side was the 
 wooded promontory of Eoseneath, with the big 
 castle on a clearance between the trees ; there 
 were white villages along the further shores, 
 under the low-lying hills. The business of the 
 work-a-day world had already begun; there 
 were vessels going up and down — here a small 
 tug towing after it a mass of floating timber, 
 there a larger steamer taking a big three-master 
 away up the river. Along the quays, too, near 
 at hand, signs of life were becoming visible ; so 
 in case anyone should complain of his having
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 55 
 
 appropriated this not very desirable bed, he got 
 on his feet again and began to wander back in 
 the direction of the town. He had no thought 
 of finding: the two men who had robbed him — 
 still less of recovering what they had taken 
 from him. Indeed, he hardly knew what ho 
 was doing ; only, the inspector at the police- 
 office had spoken kindly to him, and he seemed 
 to be drawn back thither, if he could but hit 
 upon the way. There might be some word of 
 advice. Anyhow, he wandered on. 
 
 He could not, however, discover the where- 
 abouts of the police-station, and his hopes in 
 that direction were too vague to prompt him to 
 ask his way of a stranger. But now that the 
 activities of the streets were declaring them- 
 selves in every direction — the shops being 
 opened, the passers-by increasing in number 
 — each moment seemed to add to his dismay 
 at the thought that the steamer would soon 
 be arriving, and would leave the quay again 
 and set forth on its long voyage to London, 
 while he was left in this unknown town, 
 among all these unknown people. The more 
 he considered this probability, the more ter- 
 rible it seemed. If only he could send to 
 Harivaig for the money to pay his passage !
 
 56 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 It was impossible. Days— he knew not how 
 many — would have to elapse before an answer 
 could be got; and in the meantime how was 
 he to live? But it was the thought of the 
 steamer coming into the quay within the next 
 few hours that rendered him almost desperate. 
 He began to look at the passers-by individually, 
 wondering whether there was not some friendly 
 soul amongst them who would lend him what 
 he wanted. He had money at home. He would 
 pay the loan twice over— if only he could get 
 on at once to London. Even if he never re- 
 turned to Harivaig— for as to what might 
 befall him he was all uncertain — there were 
 those there who would see that the money was 
 honourably repaid. 
 
 But, as it chanced, Dame Fortune was bent 
 this morning on making amends to old John 
 Logan for her evil treatment of him on the 
 previous night. As he was wandering along, 
 regarding this one and that, he came upon a 
 corner public-house that had just been opened, 
 the proprietor of which was standing at the 
 door, with his hands behind his back. He was 
 a tall, thin man, with an aquiline nose, keen 
 grey eyes, and light reddish-brown hair — in 
 short, a Sutherlandshire-looking man; while
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 57 
 
 there was an expression of easy good-nature 
 about his features that was calcuhited to invite 
 confidence. Old Logan hesitated— turned away 
 — went back again — and finally, when this tall 
 Highland-looking man retired into the shop, ho 
 followed, after a moment's pause. But when 
 he entered, he could see no one but a young 
 fellow who was busy polishing up the brass of 
 the bar. Logan waited in silence. The young 
 man turned to him. 
 
 " Weel, what is't ? " 
 
 " I — I wass going to London," Logan began, 
 in a breathless kind of way, " and — and — they 
 hef stolen ahl ray money ; and I wass thinking 
 that if I could get the loan of the money to tek 
 me to London, I Avould pay it back " 
 
 " Money to tak ye to London ! " the barkeeper 
 retorted, scornfully. " Yer heed's in a creel ! 
 Get oot o' this ! " 
 
 John Logan was turning hopelessly away 
 when the proprietor of the public-house came 
 forth from the back premises. 
 
 " What's that, Jimmy ? " 
 
 His assistant told him, with a laugh of de- 
 rision. John Logan was still lingering there : 
 the new-comer, with keen but not unkindly 
 eyes, was scanning him from head to heel.
 
 58 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 " Where do ye come from ? " be asked. 
 
 " From Harivaig," Logan answered ; " that 
 is across the point from Usgary." 
 
 " Usgary ? " the tall man repeated. " Then 
 I suppose you have the Gaelic. 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed— yes, indeed ! " old Logan 
 exclaimed, eagerly ; and then, to his unspeak- 
 able surprise and rejoicing, he found this 
 stranger talking to him in his native tongue. 
 
 "Tell me what has happened to you, and 
 why you have come all the way from Usgary 
 to G-reenock, an old man like you." 
 
 There was no impediment now ; with a sort 
 of feverish haste old Logan told the story of 
 what had befallen him— though he said nothing 
 of the aim of his journey to London— and 
 described his present straits ; and if he did not 
 directly beg for money to carry him on, he 
 was eager to point out that the loan would be 
 assuredly repaid. 
 
 " Well," said the other, continuing to talk in 
 the Gaelic, " you are a fooKsh man to go into a 
 house that you did not know ; and if I were to 
 lend you the money how should I be sure you 
 would not fling it away in the same fashion ? " 
 
 "But if I can get enough to pay for the 
 steamer, that is all I want," Logan said, with
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 59 
 
 anxious eyes. " If I can get to London that 
 is all I want. There is one Corstorphine there 
 who knows me." 
 
 " If it comes to that, and you are so anxious 
 to get to London, why do you not go in the 
 train ? You can leave G-reenock to-night and 
 be in London in the morning." 
 
 " The train ? — I have heard about that, but 
 I do not know it." 
 
 " Have you never seen a railway train ? " 
 
 *' No." 
 
 The tall, good-natured-looking publican seemed 
 amused. He took down his Glengarry cap, 
 and put it on his head. 
 
 " Come," said he, " and I will show you what 
 a train is like." 
 
 Then, as they walked along the street, he 
 said : 
 
 "And perhaps I will lend you the money, 
 and you will find yourself in London to-morrow 
 morning. For blood is thicker than water, as 
 everyone knows ; and I am sorry that one from 
 the north, and a Highlander like myself, should 
 have been robbed by these Lowland devils. It 
 is a good thing to have the Gaelic when you 
 meet with a Highlander ; and that is the 
 truth."
 
 6o THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 However, tlie publican's intentions were of 
 no avail, in this direction at least. When they 
 had climbed np the long flight of stairs, and 
 entered the wide, hollow-sounding station, a 
 train was just arriving at the platform-the 
 huo-e black engine coming along with its pon- 
 demus clink-clank ; and then, when it stopped, 
 there was a sudden rush and roar of escaped 
 steam, that caused old Logan to start back with 
 terror on his face. 
 
 " Well, now you have seen a train," his com- 
 panion said ; " and do you know that it can 
 take vou to London in a dozen hours ? " 
 ' Logan was silent for a moment or two ; then 
 
 he said — 
 
 "God knows that I am anxious to go to 
 London ; and if it is on foot I must go, then 
 it is on foot that I will be going ; but it is not 
 in that that I am going." 
 
 Nor would anything shake his resolution ; 
 and his newly-found friend, seeing that the 
 old man could not be reasoned out of this 
 unconquerable dread, good-naturedly assented 
 to his taking the longer route by steamer, and 
 said he should have enough money to pay his 
 passage. Not only that, but, discovering that 
 Locran had had no breakfast, he took him into
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 6\ 
 
 a coffee-shop and gave him a substantial meal ; 
 he presented him with a supply of tob&cco for 
 the voyage ; altogether, he played the part of 
 good Samaritan ; and the only receipt he took 
 for the money he advanced was the address of 
 Logan's relatives in the north. Moreover, he 
 came down to the wharf to see the old man 
 away ; and as the big steamer stood out to the 
 rippling waters of the Firth, he waved his 
 Glengarry cap once or twice before turning and 
 going back to his shop. That was the last of 
 him that John Logan ever saw ; but the old 
 man did not forget his countryman, nor the 
 help he had got from him in time of sore 
 need. 
 
 The long voyage southward proved to be 
 quite uneventful ; and he was looking forward 
 without any great apprehension to his landing 
 in London, for he had been told that the St. 
 Katharine Dock, where the steamer would reach 
 her berth, was not far from Billingsgate. He 
 received this information from a wily-looking 
 little foreign sailor, who, like himself, was one 
 of the steerage-passengers, and who had attached 
 himself to the old man, professing great friend- 
 ship soon after their leaving Greenock. He 
 was a small, yellow-faced, crop-haired creature,
 
 62 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 who wore rings in his ears, who had a sleek, 
 insinuating manner, and looked of southern 
 birth, though what English he knew sounded 
 rather as if it had been picked up in the north 
 of Europe. He had been all over the world, 
 according to his own account ; and was return- 
 ing to London after having been summoned to 
 Scotland to give evidence in a salvage case. 
 He had a pack of cards with him, and would 
 have beguiled the time in playing these with 
 this new acquaintance, only that he found the 
 old man had a superstitious horror of the 
 "devil's books." Logan's refusal did not in- 
 terrupt their intimacy ; on the contrary, Yedroz, 
 as he called himself, became more and more 
 friendly, and showed his sympathetic concern 
 by asking innumerable questions, that John 
 Logan sometimes answered, and sometimes did 
 
 not answer. 
 
 One day, the shifty-eyed dusky-faced little 
 sailor said, in an off-hand kind of fashion— 
 
 " My vrent, you 'ave pain — no ? — in your left 
 
 side ? " 
 
 John Logan, looking somewhat alarmed, said 
 
 that he had no pain there. 
 
 " JSTo ? vy you put up your hant so often ? 
 
 No pain ? You 'ave no rheumatics dare ? No ?
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 63 
 
 Yell, I vas make mistake. Das its nodings. 
 Yer glad you 'ave no pain." 
 
 And then again, the same afternoon, lie be- 
 gan to talk to the old Highlander about the 
 best way of concealing valuables about one's 
 person ; and the straits he, Yedroz, had been 
 put to in protecting himself against rogues and 
 thieves. The waistband of his trousers seemed 
 to be his favourite hiding-place. If you sewed 
 the money into the lining of your coat — so he 
 said, watching the old man's face the while — 
 the coat might be torn off in a scufEe, or stolen 
 when you were asleep. The subject seemed to 
 interest him ; he returned to it again and again ; 
 but John Logan, though he looked more and 
 more anxious, only held his peace. He made 
 no confession ; but sometimes he would ask, as 
 if to be reassured, how far the St. Katherine's 
 Docks were from Billingsgate. 
 
 When at last, after a voyage so long that it 
 appeared to him that he had been carried away 
 out of the world altogether, they arrived at their 
 destination, and were free to leave the ship, 
 Yedroz undertook to show the old man the way 
 to Billingsgate Market, and would take no re- 
 fusal. And indeed Logan was not a little 
 terrified at the sight of the vastness of the
 
 64 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 place into which he was about to plunge ; and 
 was glad of this friendly escort. It was as yet 
 early morning when they made their way into 
 Upper East Smithfield ; though already there 
 were heavy vans and lorries, making a dull, 
 continuous, distant roar through the solitude of 
 the half-sleeping city. Yedroz bent his steps 
 eastward, talking lightly all the while. Old 
 John Logan kept looking out for Billingsgate, 
 which he expected to recognise by its piles of 
 fish-boxes ; but he saw nothing of the kind. 
 Soon they had got into one of the lowest dis- 
 tricts in Shadwell; and Yedroz was airily 
 explaining, in his broken English, that the 
 distances in London were so great that one had 
 to exercise patience. 
 
 "And 'ere is my 'ouse," said he, "up this 
 court 'ere. You vill come up vid me ? — No ? 
 ._Why no?— one moment? — I keep you no 
 one moment — den we go on to Billings- 
 
 gate." 
 
 Logan followed him; but he was resolved 
 upon entering no house. When they had got 
 a little way up this narrow court, Yedroz 
 knocked at a certain door; and that was im- 
 mediately opened by a colossally tall, broad- 
 shouldered, muscular-looking woman of hideous
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 6$ 
 
 aspect, who glanced quickly from the one to 
 the other of them. 
 
 " My vrent, dis is my vife," Yedroz said, 
 leading the way into the passage. " Anna, dis 
 is a vrent of mine from Scotland. Come in ! 
 No ? No for one second ? My Gott, why you 
 no come in ? " 
 
 But old John Logan resolutely declined ; and 
 for a moment Yedroz seemed disconcerted. 
 Then he said — 
 
 " Yer' well. You stay there ; I come back 
 direct^. You talk to my vife : Anna,* see if 
 my goot vrent will no come into the 'ouse." 
 
 He left, and was absent for several minutes, 
 while the huge-limbed virago, instead of repeat- 
 ing the invitation, merely stood and stared at 
 the old man in a stony silence. Then Yedroz 
 made his appearance again, bearing in his hand 
 a pewter tankard. 
 
 " 'Ere, my vrent," said he, still standing 
 within the passage ; " 'ere is a drink for you — 
 oh, ver' good drink ! — ver' good drink in the 
 
 morning 
 
 I" 
 
 But again John Logan declined, and firmly ; 
 and the little sallow-faced sailor's eyes began 
 to burn with concealed rage. 
 
 "My Gott, why you no drink ? You diuk it 
 
 J?
 
 66 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 will do 'arm?— no 'arm !— ver good for you— 
 
 'ere, drink ! " 
 
 And he held out the tankard again— inviting 
 the old man to step into the passage. But 
 John Logan was resolved. He would not drink 
 
 he would not enter the house. Then Yedroz, 
 
 his eyes sparkling with anger, came to the door ; 
 he glanced up and down the court to see that 
 there was no one ahout : then be said, in a low 
 
 voice, 
 
 " Anna— quick — bring him in ! " 
 
 With a bound like a tigress the huge creature 
 
 sprang upon the old man, and fixed both hands 
 
 on his coat-collar; and the next moment he 
 
 would have been dragged off his feet and into 
 
 the house, but that with an extraordinary effort 
 
 he pitched the whole weight of his shoulders 
 
 against her chest so that they both reeled 
 
 against the half-opened door. He sent up loud 
 
 shouts of alarm ; he fought and tore to get out 
 
 of this terrible grip ; and all at once he found 
 
 himself thrown violently backwards— free as 
 
 air— and the door shut in his llice ! He made 
 
 instant use of his liberty. He did not stay to 
 
 ask what had frightened his assailants; he 
 
 hastily picked up his cap, that had been knocked 
 
 off in the struggle, ran down the court and out
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 67 
 
 into the street, and looked wildly around for 
 help. Well ; there was plenty, if need were. 
 But he was not pursued; and he had no wish 
 to go back to that den, even with assistance ; 
 so he hurriedly walked on — he knew not in 
 what direction ; but only anxious to get away 
 from this dreadful neighbourhood. As it 
 chanced, he took pretty much the same route 
 that he had come ; and presently he was in the 
 High-street of Shadwell, where, there being 
 now plenty of people about, he could breathe 
 a little more freely, and consider as to what he 
 should do. His heart was beating with a fright- 
 ful violence ; but the treasure sewn in the lining 
 of his coat was safe. 
 
 Well, it took him a considerable time to find 
 his way from Shadwell to Billingsgate Market, 
 for he walked slowly, and he carefully scanned 
 the appearance of anyone whom he approached 
 to ask his simple question. But he did got 
 there in the end, without further peril or adven- 
 ture ; and to his own surprise — for the roar of 
 traffic, the number of people, the mass of houses, 
 and shops, and yards, and waggons were all 
 bewildering to him — he was not lonir in findiiiir 
 out the place of his search. And then it was — 
 in a small counting-house at the back of some 
 
 Y 2
 
 68 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 wide premises — that old John Logan found him- 
 self at last face to face with the actual Corstor- 
 phine, who had for so many years been to him 
 but a name. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ABSOLUTION. 
 
 Mr. Corstorphine was a jovial-looking, stout, 
 rotund person, with a florid face, and bright, 
 twinkling, small blue eyes. 
 
 " So you're John Logan ? " said he, in a 
 very friendly fashion. "Take a seat — take a 
 seat. And what's brought ye to London ? To 
 collect your accounts ? I dare say there's some- 
 thing in your favour in our books — I'll just 
 
 see 
 
 " No," said the old man, " it is not that at 
 
 ahl. I I hef come to London to— to speak to 
 
 Mr. Holt— that wass the name — and I wass 
 thinking you would tell me where to find him." 
 
 "Holt?" said Mr. Corstorphine. "Holt? 
 Oh, yes; by-the-bye, that was a sad business 
 that happened up your way; I saw it all in 
 the papers. You mean Holt, of Ramsden, Holt,
 
 ABSOLUTION 69 
 
 don't vou ? Is it about the drownino- of Mr. 
 Ramsden you've come up to London ? " 
 
 John Loo-an looked at the other straiMit in 
 the face ; he was not sure what to answer. 
 Certain speeches of his own he had in a measure 
 prepared ; but he was not ready with replies 
 to questions. 
 
 " Ay," said he, with deliberation, " it hass 
 something to do with that." 
 
 Mr. Corstorphine waited for a moment, but 
 the old man was silent ; so, not caring to be 
 too curious, he good-naturedly said : 
 
 " Oh, well, if you want to see Mr. Holt, I 
 don't suppose there will be any difficulty. Their 
 office is in Lombard- street." 
 
 "Ay?" said the old man, looking rather 
 downcast. " Is it far aweh ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; a few minutes' walk. Are 
 you going on there now ? " 
 
 Logan hesitated ; he hardly knew how to 
 formulate the request that was in liis mind. 
 
 "I am not knowing mich about towns," said 
 he, slowly. 
 
 " Oh, but I'll send one of my lads with you," 
 Corstorphine said at once. 
 
 "Ay, will ye do that ? " the old man answered, 
 looking up quickly and gratefully. " I wass
 
 JO THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 thinking of it many's the time — maybe ye 
 would do that. For I am not knowing mich 
 about towns— and— and — my head is not quite 
 right since they struck me in G-reenock — and if 
 there wass a young lad now to tek me to Mr. 
 Holt— I. would pay the young lad " 
 
 " You will do nothing of the kind," Corstor- 
 phine said, good-humouredly. " Come along, 
 and I'll see you safe on the way to Lombard- 
 street." 
 
 Thus it was that old John Logan found him- 
 self plunged into the very heart of the great 
 city, in the busiest time of the forenoon. His 
 guide soon discovered that he was a total stranger, 
 and was so civil as to point out the Monument 
 to him ; but Logan took little notice of that — 
 it was the dense, hurrying mass of people that 
 overawed him. The lad with difficulty got him 
 to cross to the western side oe Gracechurch- 
 gtxeet — he was afraid of venturing into that 
 roaring Maelstrom; and, indeed, he had to 
 take the old man by the arm and haul him this 
 way and that, or they would never have got 
 safely through the surging stream of cabs and 
 waggons and omnibuses. Old Logan was quite 
 breathless when they got to Lombard-street — 
 not from physical exertion, but from the excite-
 
 ABSOLUTION Ji 
 
 ment caused by this strange, bewildering' 
 spectacle, and the mental contagion of all this 
 eager haste. Indeed, when they reached the 
 bank, and when his companion briefly informed 
 him that this was Eamsden, Holt's, he hesitated 
 about entering, for in this distracting whirl he 
 had forgotten the speeches he had prepared 
 during those idle days on board the steamer. 
 
 But here a fortunate circumstance happened. 
 A brougham drove up, and there stepped from 
 it no other than Mr. Holt himself, whose eye 
 instantly fell on this unwonted figure that was 
 near the door of the bank. 
 
 " Bless me ! " he said, going up to Logan, 
 " how have you come here ? Do you bring any 
 news ? Has the body been found ? " 
 
 John Logan was startled by so sudden an 
 encounter ; he regarded this tall, keen-looking 
 man with a troubled eye. 
 
 " No," he managed to say at last, and he 
 shook his head. 
 
 " But you have come to see me ? " the other 
 asked, promptly. 
 
 " Ay, ay," Logan made answer. " I — I wass 
 wantino: " 
 
 " But come in, first of all," the banker said. 
 " Come to my room — then well hear what
 
 73 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 you've got to say," and he led the way into 
 the bank, and upstairs to his own room, where 
 he shut the door, and asked John Logan to be 
 seated. 
 
 "Well, now, what can I do for you?" said 
 he, pleasantly enough. "Was not that arrange- 
 ment about the boat satisfactory ? I thought 
 the young man was very well content ; and he 
 seems an honest fellow — I think you may count 
 on the instalments being paid." 
 
 Old John Logan was looking all around him : 
 this place in which he found himself was like a 
 house ; had he arrived at the goal of his long 
 journey already ! 
 
 " It's the young lady," said he, turning 
 vaguely inquiring eyes upon the banker. 
 
 " What young lady ? Miss Ramsden ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay," the old man said, with a kind of 
 breathless eagerness. " It's to see her I hef 
 come ahl the way — and — and I wass thinking 
 you would tell me where to find her. If it is 
 only for a moment — she was ferry, ferry kind 
 to us — and — and if she would not think it 
 trouble — only for a moment " 
 
 " But what do you want to see her about ? " 
 Mr. Holt naturally asked : then directly some- 
 thing in the old man's face told hi in he liad
 
 ABSOLUTION 7}, 
 
 been indiscreet. " Ab, I see it is something 
 you have got to say to herself. Yery well ; 
 there can be no objection. I dare say it must 
 be something of importance to have brought 
 3'ou so far ; and I dare say, too, she will tell 
 me all about it later on. However, if you 
 want to see her, you will almost certainly find 
 her at home this morning. If she is out, wait 
 till she returns — she is pretty sure to be back 
 by lunch-time. I will give you a card, and 
 you will show it to the man who opens the 
 door ; and I will send a commissionaire with 
 you to take you to the house, for I suppose 
 you'd never make your way to Cornwall-gardens 
 by yourself." 
 
 As well as he was able, the old man expressed 
 his grateful thanks ; and presently he was out 
 once more in the wild Babel of confusion, under 
 the guidance of this taciturn commissionaire. 
 But now he felt that every step was taking him 
 nearer and nearer to the end and aim of his 
 journey. Ilis heart shook within him as he 
 thought of the ordeal before him ; and his only 
 wish was that it were well over and done with. 
 He did not care what happened to him after 
 that. The atonement once made to Jier, they 
 might take him away and put him in gaol or
 
 74 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 hang liim if they wished. It was of no^ con- 
 sequence whether he ever went back to Harivaig. 
 He was an old man ; his days were about done 
 anyway; and his granddaughter Jeannie would 
 be well provided for and comfortably settled 
 with her husband in their new home in Usgary. 
 Meanwhile the commissionaire who was act- 
 ing as his guide had met with the same difficulty 
 that the Greenock publican had experienced : 
 old John Logan could not be induced to enter 
 a train. Indeed, his dismay on being asked 
 to go by an underground tunnel was even 
 greater than before ; so the commissionaire had 
 to sacrifice the tickets he had purchased at the 
 Mansion House Station, had to ascend to the 
 upper air again, and take his charge down to 
 Kensington on the top of an omnibus. Even 
 that method of travelling seemed to the old 
 fisherman to be fraught with imminent danger ; 
 but no doubt his fear of falling off helped in a 
 measure to distract his mind from thinkmg of 
 the trying interview that was now drawmg 
 
 near. 
 
 When they reached the large mansion in 
 Cornwall-gardens to which they had been 
 directed, the servant who opened the door 
 stared with surprise and even resentment at
 
 ABSOLUTION 75 
 
 this old man who hud dared to ring the 
 visitors' bell ; but his manner changed some- 
 what when he was shown Mr. Holt's card. He 
 said that Miss Ramsden was out riding just 
 then, but that she w^ould be back in half an 
 hour or so ; and would he step in and wait ? 
 The commissionaire, having seen his task 
 accomplished, left ; and old John Logan entered 
 the house. The man-servant hesitated as to 
 whether he should ask this odd-looking visitor, 
 whose clothes and cap had suffered a good deal 
 in his rough experiences of travel, to go any 
 further than the hall. But Logan settled that 
 matter for himself; he sate down on a chair 
 that happened to be handy, and the footman, 
 with another curious glance, disappeared, and 
 left the old man alone. 
 
 The moment he had departed, John Logan 
 whipped off his coat, took out his sailor's jack- 
 knife, and slit open a sewed patch in the inside 
 lining. The locket that had cost him so much 
 was in his hand. He undid the piece of canvas 
 in which it was w^rapped, and placed that in his 
 pocket. He hastily put on his coat again, and 
 then he sate still, waiting with the trinket that 
 he had hardly dared to look on, clasped and 
 hidden in his trembling fingers.
 
 75 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 He beard the sound of horses' hoofs without. 
 The servant who had let him in came along' 
 the hall and opened the door. There was a 
 tall, fair-haired young lady in a black riding- 
 habit coming up the steps. A young man, 
 rather older than herself, immediately followed. 
 The groom was leading away the horses. John 
 Logan rose to his feet, though his heart was 
 beating and his legs were shaking so that he 
 could hardly stand. The world seemed to swim 
 round him. He did not know that she turned 
 very pale on catching sight of him, and came 
 quickly forward, and asked him what he had 
 
 come to tell her ? 
 
 " Is it about my father ? " she said, hurriedly. 
 
 For a moment he could not speak, he was all 
 trembling so ; then he said : 
 
 " No, no, Mem. I wass come to gif you back 
 something— something that wass yours— and it 
 is a long weh I have come to — to 
 
 She saw that he was strongly agitated— and 
 also that he glanced in a timorous fashion at 
 her cousin, who was standing by. 
 
 " Mem," said the old man, in a sort of despe- 
 ration, " will you be that kind— I wass thinking 
 to see you by yourself— " 
 
 "Fred, wait for me in the drawing-room,
 
 ABSOLUTION 77 
 
 she said instantly. And then, quickly laying 
 aside her hat and riding-whip, she took the old 
 man gently by the hand. '' Come in here," 
 she said, leading him into the dining-room, and 
 shutting the door behind them. "I see you 
 are greatly distressed. What is it about? Can 
 I help you ? It is not about your grand- 
 daughter, is it, that was to be married ? If I 
 can help you, I'm sure I will ! " 
 
 The old man stood helpless, bewildered, 
 shaking from head to foot — his English was all 
 gone from him — he could not explain : then, 
 with a half-stifled cry of anguish, he threw 
 himself at her feet, his two clenched hands on 
 the floor, tears streaming from his eyes, his 
 white head bowed with the violence of his 
 sobbing. 
 
 '''• Ma-an-nu8 ! — md-an-nus ! — 7nd-an-nus I " * 
 was all he could say, in this overwhelming- 
 grief, in the despair of his appeal to her. 
 
 " But what is it ? " she asked, in great alarm 
 and commiseration, for it seemed so pitiable to 
 see this white-haired old man so utterly stricken 
 down. 
 
 He unclasped one of his hands, and put the 
 locket at her feet. 
 
 * Properly mathanas — compassion, mercy, forgiveness.
 
 78 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 " I hef brought it," lie said— thoiigli liis voice 
 was so broken with liis sobs that she could only 
 make out a word or two here and there ; " if 
 you hef no pardon for me— -I cannot tell what 
 that will be for me— when I took it, I wass not 
 thinking it wass anybody's— I had neffer seen 
 you, Mem — God knows, I would not hef taken 
 anything from you— but— but the clothes they 
 were lying on the shore— and— and there wass 
 no one— and I wass thinking of my lass Jeannie, 
 and of her getting married, and not with the 
 things that some of the young lasses hef for 
 their'wedding-day— it— it is your pardon, Mem, 
 I am asking— it is your pardon I am praying 
 for— and if you hef no pardon for me, then God 
 help me — for I — for I " 
 
 But here he broke into another, fit of 
 passionate crying and sobbing, so that he could 
 not proceed with his appeal to her for forgive- 
 ness. As for her, the tears were running down 
 her own cheeks ; this seemed so piteous a thing. 
 She knelt down on one knee, and took up the 
 
 locket. 
 
 " I think I understand you," she said, very 
 o'cntly. " Well ; you have brought it back — • 
 what more could you do ? I do forgive you— 
 indeed, indeed I do forgive you I "
 
 ABSOLUTION 79 
 
 He seized the hem of her dress, and kissed it 
 again and again. 
 
 " I wass not thinking," he continued, between 
 his sobs, " that it belonged to any one. And 
 there wass Jeannie, she wass going to be 
 married — and — and I thought the young lad 
 would be prouder of her. Mem, I did not 
 know it wass yours — I did not ; and when you 
 wass coming to Harivaig — after that, there 
 wass no peace for me, day or night ; and I wass 
 asking myself, day and night, if the young 
 lady would gif me her pardon, if I went aweh 
 to London " 
 
 " And indeed, indeed I do ! " the girl said, 
 in deep commiseration. " Come ! " she said, 
 putting her hand on his shoulder. " Come and 
 tell me how you made such a long journey. 
 I did miss the locket, and could not imagine 
 where it had gone. But now you have brought 
 it back — and come such a long way to restore 
 it — well, now, you must not say a word more 
 about it." 
 
 Old John Logan rose and wiped his wet 
 cheeks with the back of his hand, and took a 
 step towards the door. 
 
 " The loug well I hef come, IMcm," said he, 
 pausing now and again to gather his speech.
 
 8o THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 " wass to gif back what I had taken— and— and 
 to ask for your pardon. Now you hef been 
 kind to me— more kind to me as I deserve— 
 and— and that is ofer now— and God bless you 
 for it, Mem. That is ofer now— but there's 
 the other people— and I will tell them what 
 I hef done— and if it is to be hajiged I am, 
 then it will not matter so much to be hanged 
 now, since I hef your pardon. And now I will 
 say good-bye to you, Mem ; and God will bless 
 you as you hef been merciful to me this 
 
 day." 
 
 She guessed his meaning directly ; and m an 
 instant she had interposed herself between him 
 and the door. 
 
 "No," said she, courageously, "you are not 
 going like that, or with any such intention. 
 What has been done has been settled and for- 
 given between you and me ; and no one else 
 has the right to interfere. No one else has got 
 anything to do with it. If you like, it will be 
 a secret between you and me: not a word to 
 be said. And I am not going to let you leave 
 the house like this." She put her hand on his 
 arm. "Come," she said, quite cheerfully, so 
 as to reassure him, and calm down his violent 
 distress and agitation, " I want you to tell me
 
 ABSOLUTION 8r 
 
 all about your coming here, and I want to 
 know what you are going to do before you go 
 back. I suppose you have no friends in London 
 — unless you will call me your friend ? I want 
 you to tell me about your granddaughter, and 
 the marriage, and what you are going to buy 
 in London to take to her for her wedding- 
 day. If she would not be offended, I should 
 like to send her some things ; and perhaps she 
 would rather be pleased to have them come all 
 the way from London." 
 
 Her calm and soothing tones prevailed ; he 
 suffered himself to be led towards the window, 
 and he took a seat there, she sitting opposite 
 him in the embrasure. He understood that he 
 was asked for the story of his adventures since 
 leaving Harivaig, and he began and in the 
 most simple fashion related the various incidents 
 as well as his halting speech would allow. She 
 was greatly concerned when he told her about 
 the fighting in the Greenock den ; and declared 
 he must see a surgeon in London, to make sure 
 his wounds had been properly dressed, and 
 were healing satisfactorily ; and then, when he 
 brought his narrative down to this very day, 
 and when she discovered that he had had 
 nothing to eat or drink since very early that 
 
 G
 
 83 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 morning, she went promptly to the mantelpiece 
 and rang the bell. 
 
 The footman appeared. 
 
 "Luncheon, Richard — and tell Mrs. Moulseley 
 and Mr. Hare." 
 
 She turned to the old man. 
 
 " You will stay and have some lunch with 
 me ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, no, Mem ! " said he, glancing nervously 
 at the table — which was already laid. 
 
 " But you must ! Why, how many hours is 
 it since you left the steamer this morning ? " 
 
 Presently an elderly lady appeared, followed 
 by the young man who had been out riding 
 with Miss Ramsden — a tall young Englishman 
 of the familiar blonde type. The moment young 
 Hare perceived that the old fisherman was 
 still in the dining-room, and apparently was 
 going to stay to lunch, he said to his cousin — 
 
 " Edith ! " 
 
 It was a kind of summons : she followed him 
 out into the hall. 
 
 " Why, what are you going to do now ? " he 
 said, by way of friendly remonstrance. 
 
 She stepped into the morning-room opposite, 
 to be out of the way of the servants, and he 
 accompanied her.
 
 ABSOLUTION 83 
 
 "This is an old man who has come a lono- 
 way," she said to him ; " and I am interested in 
 him ; and I have asked him to take lunch with 
 me — that is all." 
 
 " How silly you are ! " he said. " Why " 
 
 She flushed up a little. 
 
 "You need not come in to luncheon unless 
 you like ! " she said, somewhat stiffly. 
 
 He looked at her, and smiled, and made bold 
 to take her hand. 
 
 " So you want to quarrel, do you ? My dear 
 
 Edith, you don't know how. You haven't got 
 
 it in you. You can't fight— you haven't got 
 
 the weapons — what is it ? — 
 
 Un sourire qui dit : Bataillel 
 Un soupir qui dit : Je me rends ! 
 
 that's the wav you would fight, if you were to 
 try." 
 
 She withdrew her hand none the less. 
 
 "You don't know how I am interested in 
 this old man," she said, " and you don't know 
 what a pitiable story he has just told me. But 
 it is of no consequence. As I sa}^, you need 
 not come in to luncheon unless you like." 
 
 "Edith, don't be stupid!" he made answer, 
 quite good-naturedly. " I was not thinking of 
 myself at all ; I was thinking of your ancient 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 friend — whom you will make extremely uncom- 
 fortable. Do you imagine you are doing him 
 any kindness ? He would be a great deal 
 happier if you would let him have his dinner in 
 the servants' hall." 
 
 " Well, then, he is not going down to the 
 servants' hall," was her reply. 
 
 "And I," said he, with a bit of a langh, "am 
 not going to be debarred from sitting next to 
 you at luncheon simply because you choose to 
 be cantankerous. Come along ; if you keep 
 Mrs. Moulseley waiting another minute she'll 
 snap your head off," and with that he put his 
 hand lightly on her shoulder and shoved her 
 out of the room before him. 
 
 But old John Logan was far too preoccupied 
 to be in any way embarrassed or uncomfortable 
 when the young lady insisted on his taking a 
 place next her at table ; nor did he seem to 
 perceive how assiduous she was in paying him 
 little friendly attentions. His mind was in- 
 tently fixed on quite other things. The ser- 
 vants placed various dishes before him ; he paid 
 no heed. The butler filled his glass ; he did 
 not look at it. 
 
 "But you are not eating anything!" his 
 young hostess said.
 
 ABSOLUTION 85 
 
 " I wass not thinking of it," he answered, 
 simply; and then he relapsed into a brooding- 
 silence, as if there was no outward world for 
 him at all. 
 
 She beo'an to wonder what this was that was 
 weighing so heavily on his thoughts. Had she 
 not fully satisfied him of her forgiveness ? Had 
 she not been explicit enough ? Or was there 
 still in his mind some dark imagining that 
 quite outside the sphere of her acquittal there 
 dwelt unknown terrors of punishment and 
 vengeance ? The moment that luncheon was 
 over, she allowed her other two companions to 
 leave, and desired the old man to remain with 
 her. And then an adroit question or two soon 
 made the matter more or less clear. 
 
 " It is you, Mem, who hef been kind to me," 
 said he, fixing his eyes on the table before him, 
 as if to s-eek out this that was troubling him ; 
 while she listened to him patiently and in 
 silence, as he slowly constructed sentence after 
 sentence. "And when I wass leaving Hari- 
 vaig, I did not know whether I would ever be 
 finding you ; and now you wass gifiing me your 
 pardon ; and what more is to happen to me, 
 that I do not heed now, since you had mercy 
 for me. But — but you said a secret. If I wass
 
 86 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 to go back to Harivaig, I would be thinking — 
 ahl the day long, sometimes in the night too. 
 I would be thinking there would be some one 
 coming. He would say to me, ^ You hef a 
 secret, and that iss good as between the young 
 lady and you ; but the judges are not satisfied 
 — there iss more to be done yet.' And now I 
 am here in this town, where the judges are, 
 I — I would sooner go to tbem. If they hef no 
 pardon for me — well, I am an old man ; it is not 
 much matter now ; and Jeannie would neifer 
 know anything about it. Wben I wass coming 
 through the streets I looked for them ; but I 
 wass not seeing them anywhere. And now, 
 Mem, I will go. Whateffer happens there iss 
 my thanks to you for your goodness to me ; 
 and I had no right to expect so mich from you. 
 But I am not thinking of going back to Hari- 
 vaig with a secret — and be waiting and waiting 
 for the judges." 
 
 She was quick to perceive what all this meant. 
 
 " But you don't understand ! " she said, with 
 an almost pathetic eagerness. " It need not be 
 a secret unless you like — that must be just as 
 you wish — but I mentioned a secret merely be- 
 cause it is nobody else's business but yours and 
 mine. No one can interfere now ; it is settled.
 
 ABSOLUTION 87 
 
 Surely you have suffered enough — surely you 
 have made sufiScient atonement :_ and if I say 
 that — if I tell you that — who can interfere ? 
 The judges would not think of harming you. 
 You might live all the rest of your life in 
 London — you might walk through the streets 
 every day — and nohody would think of meddling 
 with you. Indeed," she said — for it suddenly 
 occurred to her that the best way of assuring 
 him of his safety would be to familiarise him 
 with the London streets and the sight of the 
 great official buildings and the repositories of 
 power and authority, " I'm going to ask you 
 to remain in London for a day or two, and go 
 about, and see what the place is like. That 
 is, until I can find some little presents for you 
 to take home to your granddaughter, for the 
 wedding. And there are a lot of things you 
 have to do," she continued, in a brisk and 
 matter-of-fact wa}", " before you can set oTit 
 again for the North. You ought at once to 
 send your friend in Greenock, who was so 
 kind to you, the money he lent you — and if 
 
 you haven't got it " 
 
 "But, ay, ay!" he said, quickly; "there's 
 Corstorphine ! There's some money that Cor- 
 storphine is owing to me "
 
 88 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 " Well, we'll arrange about that later on," 
 said she. " In the meantime I want you to 
 see a little of London, and I'll get you some 
 one who will take you about." 
 
 For so gentle-mannered and smooth-spoken 
 a young lady she had a prompt and business- 
 like way of going about things. She rang 
 the bell. The footman appeared. 
 
 " Tell Kemp I want to see him at once," she 
 said. " If he is round at the stables send for 
 nn. 
 
 " Yes, Miss." 
 
 A few minutes thereafter she was told that 
 Kemp was in the hall ; and immediately she 
 left the room, shutting the door behind her. 
 
 " I sha'n't want the carriage this afternoon, 
 Kemp," she said to this grave, stout, elderly 
 person, who, in fact, was her coachman. 
 
 " Very well. Miss." 
 
 " But there is an old fisherman here, who 
 has come from the North to see me, and you 
 must look after him, and find lodgings for him 
 for a night or two. Has your wife let that 
 room that is next to yours ? " 
 
 " No, Miss." 
 
 " That will do very well. You will see that 
 the old man is comfortable. And in the mean-
 
 ABSOLUTION 89 
 
 time I want you to take bim out now, and sliow 
 him some of the sights of London — take him 
 to see Buckingliam Pahice, and the Houses of 
 Parhament, and the Horse Guards, and so on. 
 And first of all you must persuade him to go 
 somewhere and have some dinner ; he has had 
 nothing since early morning ; be sure he has 
 a good dinner ; and when he comes back in 
 the evenino' he must have some tea in his own 
 room ; and perhaps I may come round for a 
 moment to see how he is irettina: on." 
 
 She took a sovereign from her purse. 
 
 " Mind you make him cheerful and comfort- 
 able, and talk to him, and get everything he 
 needs. Is there any Highland whiskey to be 
 got in London refreshment-rooms ? " 
 
 " They says so, Miss," the coachman answered, 
 with grave caution. 
 
 " You must see what he would like with his 
 dinner. His name is Mr. Logan. You must 
 call him ' Mr.' Now I will give him over into 
 your hands ; and I hope to hear at night that 
 he has spent a very pleasant afternoon." 
 
 And, strangely enough, this mere girl had 
 hit upon the right way of going about this 
 thing. Old John Logan, during the two or 
 three days he spent in Loudon, got to be con-
 
 90 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 vinced that lie had nothing to fear — that no 
 one wanted to harm him — that he was a free 
 man— that the young lady's forgiveness of him 
 was all-sufficient. For one thing, Miss Rams- 
 den took very good care not to say anything 
 of what she had done or was doing to Mr. Holt. 
 She had heard of such a phrase as " compounding 
 a felony ; " and while she felt in her heart that 
 she was justified in assuring this old man that 
 he had suffered enough and made ample expia- 
 tion, she did not quite know how her conduct 
 mio-ht strike a le2:al or commercial mind. She 
 thouii'ht she would tell Mr. Holt all about it — 
 after John Logan had gone home. 
 
 In tlie meantime, the old man's gratitude 
 towards her was something extraordinary to 
 witness. It was like the dumb gratitude of a 
 dog, for he could not say much of what he felt. 
 And when she showed him the pretty bits of 
 finery that she had bought for his grand- 
 daughter, and that were to help to deck out the 
 bride, tears rose to the old man's eyes, and he 
 said — 
 
 "If you had the Gaelic, Mem, I could tell 
 you what I wass thinking of you, Mem, and — 
 and your kindness — but I will never be able to 
 tell you that."
 
 ABSOLUTION 91 
 
 His last speech to her, when the time came 
 for his bidding lier farewell, was of the same 
 apologetic nature. She did not go down to the 
 St. Katherine's Docks with him ; but she put 
 him in safe hands ; and Mr. Holt, at her inter- 
 cession, had made arrangements with one of 
 the sub-officers on board the Anchor Liner, by 
 which the old man would be taken care of if 
 he had any time to wait in Greenock for the 
 Dunara Castle. John Loo-an, as he was beino; 
 driven down to St. Katherine's Docks in a four- 
 wheeled cab, saw, amongst the other things they 
 passed, the Tower of London ; and he beheld 
 it without a qualm ; the gentle- voiced young 
 lady had successfully banished all his fears. 
 
 But what was he to say to the people when, 
 after the long, and, as it chanced, uneventful 
 voyage, he got back to Harivaig again — as 
 one returned from the dead ? Well ; he said 
 nothing at all. If anyone asked him, he 
 answered that he had been away to the south, 
 and had seen many strange sights. But when 
 Jeannie Logan, in mingled shyness and pride, 
 began to show to her intimate friends the 
 beautiful things that the Enghsli young lady 
 had sent her for her wedding-day, then the 
 bruit got abroad that old John Logan was so
 
 92 THE PENANCE OF JOHN LOGAN 
 
 insensately fond of his spoiled granddaughter 
 that he had gone all the way to London to 
 purchase adornments for her. Jeannie pro- 
 tested against this misapprehension, and even 
 showed them the very grateful letter she was 
 going to send to Miss Kamsden ; but all was of 
 
 no use. 
 
 Moreover, they made still another mistake 
 when the wedding-day came round. The 
 marriage took place in the inn, as the custom 
 holds in those parts ; and in the evening all the 
 people— some of them very remote kinsfolk, 
 who had come from long distances— assembled 
 at supper. It was a protracted feast; and 
 there was a mighty babblement of laughter, 
 and talking, and joking, to say nothing of the 
 piper up at the fireplace end of the room, who 
 was screaming away with " Hoop her and gird 
 her" and "Follow her over the border;" so 
 that, towards the end of the banquet, it was 
 with difficulty the roaring guests could be got 
 to understand that old John Logan— old John 
 Logan, of all people in the world— was going 
 toV^PO^® ^ health, with Highland honours 
 too. Perhaps it was the excitement of the 
 moment, perhaps it was an extra drop of 
 Glendarroch that had put the idea into the old
 
 ABSOLUTION 93 
 
 man's head ; however, there was silence when 
 he mounted on his chair, and raised his ghass in 
 his trembhng hand. 
 
 "We are all friends here," said he, in the 
 Gaelic, " and I ask all friends of me and mine 
 to drink this : Blessings on her — and a hmidred 
 thousand blessings !— and long life and happi- 
 ness to the Roa-nam-hdn I " * 
 
 He put his right foot on the table. , 
 
 " Nish — nisli I Suasa — suasa I " f he called ; 
 and therewith he tossed off the whiskey, and 
 dashed the glass down to the floor, so that it 
 should never be drunk out of again. 
 
 " Iioa-nam-hdn I — Roa-nam-hdn I " they cried ; 
 but they were all laughing at him ; they 
 thought it was a foolish thing for the infatuated 
 old man to call his granddaughter the best of 
 women, even on her wedding-day. For not one 
 of them (except, perhaps, the granddaughter 
 herself — who was not offended) guessed who it 
 was whom old John Logan had in his mind, 
 when he called on his friends to drink long life 
 and happiness to the Roa-nam-hdn. 
 
 * Properly, Bogha-nam-han. — The "best, tlie choicest 
 anion<^ women, 
 
 t Nish — 7u'.s7t / Suasa— suasa I — Now — now ! Up with it 
 — up with it !
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET 
 
 A TALE OF TWO YOUNG FOOLS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 '• MY UNFORTUNATE CLIENT." 
 
 " God bless my soul, one might as well try to 
 find one's way in a rabbit-burrow ! " 
 
 The tall and elderly gentleman who was thus 
 angrily muttering to himself in the dim corri- 
 dors of the Law Courts was rather a good-look- 
 ing person, with well- cut features, a white 
 moustache, and steel-grey eyes, but with some 
 ominously ill-tempered lines where the eyebrows 
 met. And if this search of his for Appeal 
 Court No. 1 seemed a perfectly hopeless thing, 
 it was to be attributed rather to his own im- 
 patience than to any negligence on the part of 
 the officials. He would not wait for explana- 
 tions ; after each brief direction, off he would
 
 96 ROMEO AND yULlET 
 
 set once more ; occasionally getting " warm," 
 as the children say, and then again finding 
 on the wall some bewildering instructions to 
 to witnesses. At last, however, he ran full tilt 
 against his own solicitor. 
 
 " Grood morning. Lord Amesleigh," said this 
 latter, who had little of the ordinary ferret-look 
 of a solicitor, but was rather portly, and bland, 
 and snave. '' Come to hear the appeal argued?" 
 
 " I am come to hear the appeal ; but what 
 there is to argue about I cannot for the life of 
 me imagine," said the elderly gentleman, witli 
 some petulance. " ^Vhy, every man-jack of a 
 lawyer I have put the case before has told me 
 that it is as clear as daylight — that the other 
 side haven't the ghost of a leg to stand on. 
 Indeed, their unanimity has been rather sus- 
 picious, to tell you the truth. And when I 
 have said to them, ' Well, but if I am so 
 
 obviously in the right, why did decide 
 
 ao-ainst me ? ' then the invariable answer has 
 
 been, ' Oh, is an old fool. You're quite 
 
 sure to win now. If had decided in your 
 
 favour, you might have had cause for alarm. 
 All his decisions are reversed on appeal.' Well, 
 now, that is a nice kind of person to have on 
 the Bench ! "
 
 "AfV UNFORTUNATE CLIENT'' 97 
 
 The solicitor, even in talking to an injured 
 client, was bound to maintain the dignity of 
 the law. 
 
 " It was simply a misfortune that he should 
 have tried the case," said he ; " for that is not 
 the kind of thing he is familiar with. It was 
 transferred to the Queen's Bench Division quite 
 unexpectedly ; and then our leading counsel 
 was a Chancery barrister ; and his junior — 
 well " 
 
 "Where is this infernal Court?" said his 
 lordship, with a touch of impatience ; he had 
 heard these explanations before. 
 
 The bland Mr. Bannersby forthwith conducted 
 his client into the hushed Court, where there 
 was the usual motley little crowd of hangers-on 
 seated at haphazard among young barristers in 
 wig and gown, with three old gentlemen, also 
 in wig and gown, on a raised bench. One of 
 those young barristers, puffy, with spectacles, 
 was declaiming away with emphatic voice and 
 "uplifted arm, as if he were addressing a more 
 than ordinarily vacuous jury ; but the three 
 old gentlemen didn't seem to mind : one was 
 looking at a book, another turning over some 
 papers, and he in the middle appeared to have 
 found a hair in the point of his pen. 
 
 H
 
 98 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 "Does that fool of a fellow," said Lord 
 Amesleigh, looking peevishly at the haranguing 
 barrister, " does he think that judges are to be 
 impressed by pot-house eloquence ? " 
 
 "It's a way some of them get into," the 
 solicitor said, in an apologetic tone. 
 
 " He talks as if he were going on till Dooms- 
 day. When does our case come on ? " 
 
 "It is the next on the list; and I should 
 think this one will be over shortly. Won't you 
 take a seat, Lord Amesleigh ? There may be 
 some little delay, you know." 
 
 His lordship was just about to pass round to 
 secure a place on one of the benches, when there 
 entered by the opposite door, and accompanied 
 by two friends, a lady of somewhat dis- 
 tinguished presence, and dressed in the ex- 
 treme of fashion. She was probably about 
 five-and-forty ; handsome in a way ; and with 
 an air that seemed to say that she was ex- 
 tremely well able to take care of herself. Now, 
 whether this Mrs. Laxbourne, having driven 
 into the city to ask her lawyers how the appeal 
 was likely to go, had been induced to look into 
 the Court for a moment as a mere matter of 
 curiosity, or whether she had come to hear the 
 case outrightj Lord Amesleigh did not stay to
 
 "MV UNFORTUNATE CLIENT'' 99 
 
 inquire. The instant he caught a glimpse of 
 her, he said to his soHcitor — 
 
 "The mere sight of that poisonous witch 
 sickens me. I'm off. Will you send me word 
 as soon as the decision is known ? I shall be at 
 the Carlton." 
 
 " Yes, certainly," Mr. Bannersby made an- 
 swer. I will send along one of my clerks as 
 soon as judgment is given." 
 
 " Very well," said Lord Amesleigh, and he 
 at once left the Court by the door opposite to 
 that by which Mrs. Laxbourne had entered. 
 
 It was not, however, till well past midday 
 that the messenger arrived at the Carlton Club. 
 Lord Amesleigh came to see him in the hall ; 
 and there was a look of severe scrutiny in his 
 lordship's face that the young man did not at 
 all like. 
 
 " I am very sorry, my lord " he stam- 
 mered. 
 
 " But what is it ? What is the result ? Let's 
 hear at once." 
 
 The young man hesitated, and there was a 
 kind of beseeching look in his eyes. 
 
 " I am very sorry, my lord — but — but the 
 appeal has been dismissed — and with costs." 
 
 " Dismissed ? With costs ? " his lordsliip 
 
 H 2
 
 loo ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 repeated, and at first he seemed too bewildered 
 to be angry or indignant. " What do they 
 mean ? God bless my soul and body, what do 
 they mean! There is the plain covenant. How 
 can they get over it ? This woman buys the 
 piece of ground on the distinct undertakmg 
 neither to build nor otherwise to do anything 
 to injure my house. There it is. The other 
 side admit it. What can be clearer ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said the messenger, rather 
 timidly.' " &it their lordships construed the 
 clauseto mean that she was not to build to the 
 
 injury of your house " 
 
 " Then I wish to heavens there was an insti- 
 tution in this country for teaching our judges 
 the meaning of plain English. And I suppose 
 I am to shut up that window now ? " 
 
 " No, my lord," said the clerk, with a little 
 relief; '"on that point we win. They give 
 three guineas damages against Mrs. Laxbourne 
 for having blocked up the window." 
 
 " Upon my word, this is too bewildering ! " 
 was the involuntary exclamation. " There is 
 the point on which the whole dispute turned. 
 It is decided in my favour, and yet I am cast 
 in the costs of the whole case ! Such a muddle 
 was never heard of on the face of the earth
 
 "MV UNFORTUNATE CLIENT'' loi 
 
 before I The Chancery Court grant an injunc- 
 tion, and the hoarding the woman had the 
 impudence to put up is taken away ; then the 
 case comes on, but it isn't tried in Chancery, it 
 is tried in the Queen's Bench Division before a 
 judge who knows nothing about the matter ; 
 then it comes to the Court of Appeal, and their 
 lordships decide that I am entitled to the freedom 
 of my window — and to three guineas damages 
 — and yet the judgment is against me, and the 
 costs of both sides ! Why, the law is a fool ! " 
 
 " Not half such a fool as those who have re- 
 course to it," the young man, having experi- 
 ence, may have thought ; but of course such 
 things are not said to clients. 
 
 " Can you give me an idea of what the total 
 costs will amount to?" Lord Amesleic'h de- 
 manded, abruptly. 
 
 " I am sorry I can't, my lord " 
 
 " Tell Mr. Bannersby to make as accurate an 
 estimate as he can, and send it to me at once. 
 Good afternoon ! " 
 
 So the messenger was dismissed ; and the angry 
 and disappointed litigant remained in the hall of 
 the club, pacing up and down, with his lips firm 
 and his eyes scowling, and with but the curtest 
 nod for any acquaintance who chanced to pass.
 
 I02 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JIMMIE. 
 
 On tin's same wintry afternoon, Kensington 
 Gardens presented a rather melancholy ap- 
 pearance. The copper-hued sun was setting 
 behind the tall and leafless trees ; a thin mist 
 prevailed everywhere ; the Round Pond was 
 slightly frozen over, and powdered with snow ; 
 a sprinkling of snow, too, lay here and there on 
 the ruddy pathways and the dark green grass. 
 There were few people about ; the human life 
 of the place had been drawn to the northern 
 side of the pond, where some lads and boys had 
 started a slide, and were busy with the roaring 
 game. Any passer-by going east or west 
 walked quickly because of the cold, and soon 
 disappeared in the dusky twilight that hung 
 about those solitary avenues. 
 
 On the southern side of the pond, however, 
 there were two young people standing, face to 
 face, and evidently far too much engrossed with 
 their own affairs to heed what was happening 
 around them. The young lady was slight, and 
 rather small of figure, with an oval face, pale
 
 JIMMIE ' 103 
 
 complexion, rufous hair neatly braided, and 
 round blue eyes. Of course lier eyes were no 
 rounder than any one else's eyes, but they 
 looked rounder somehow, and they were very 
 innocent, and appealing, and gentle. She was 
 smartly dressed in a Newmarket coat of some 
 dark green stuff, with a tiny bonnet of the 
 same material, and she wore a boa round her 
 neck, as became the time and the fashion ; 
 her hands were hidden in a muff; and alto- 
 gether she looked very pretty, and neat, and 
 warm, and comfortable. Her companion, a 
 young fellow of two or three -and-twenty, was 
 considerably taller than she, sufficiently pleasant- 
 looking, pale of complexion, like herself, and of 
 slim, but well-built frame. 
 
 " Twenty-times worse than ever, that's what 
 I call it," he was saying ruefully. " And what 
 the meaning of it all is I can't imagine. When 
 you go to law of course you expect one side to 
 win. I cared very little which won, except 
 in this way, that your mother could much 
 better afford to pay the costs than my father 
 can. It would have been a sm.all matter to 
 her, but it won't be to my father, with every 
 penny locked up in these wretched companies. 
 But, as I say, of course I expected one side
 
 104 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 would win, and I thought the winner might be 
 satisfied with the triumph, and come forward 
 and do the generous thing, don't you know. 
 But now, according to this ridiculous judgment, 
 both sides lose ! Your mother is not allowed 
 to block up our window, but she may go on 
 
 with that confounded greenhouse " 
 
 " And why confounded greenhouse ? " the 
 young lady said, promptly. " I might just as 
 well talk of your confounded window." 
 
 "The law says we were quite justified in 
 making that window," he retorted. 
 
 " And the law says we shall be justified in 
 going on with the greenhouse," she maintained. 
 " But you know perfectly well the window 
 would never have been made if you had not 
 claimed the right to build anything you liked 
 on that piece of land. You know that quite 
 well. It was the greenhouse began it." 
 
 " Don't quarrel with me, Percy 1 " she said, 
 with a sudden change of front. 
 
 -'Yes, that's what you always say when 
 you're beaten in argument ; and then I have to 
 
 give m ' 
 
 " And so you ought," she said, rather saucily. 
 " Just think how good I am to you. Look at 
 me now, standing shivering in the cold -"
 
 JIMMIE 10? 
 
 " Shivering, indeed ! You're as warm as an 
 apple-pie — and as sweet. But look here, 
 Jimmie," said he (for this was his poetical way 
 of contracting the name Jemima), " what's to 
 be done now ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said she. " It's for you to 
 find out if anything can be done. And mind, 
 Percy, I can't keep on meeting you like this — 
 at least, it can't be often. Supposing we were 
 caught, and the story carried to mamma ? " 
 
 " Oh," said he, carelessly, " they have them- 
 selves to blame. If Montague and Capulet 
 choose to quarrel, they must take the con- 
 sequences." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " but if one of the con- 
 sequences should be that mamma were to 
 suddenly whisk me off to Nice or Cannes, then 
 it's very little of your Jimmie you'd see for 
 many and many a day." 
 
 " It's a horrible thing to have no position or 
 profession, and to be entirely dependent," said 
 he, bewailing his hard lot. " That comes of 
 being a second son. My brother Charlie had 
 everything done for him that my father's 
 crippled finances would allow, and now that 
 he's been ordered out to the Soudan, he has a 
 chance of showing what stuff is in him. But
 
 io6 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 what are you to do if you're only a private 
 secretary ? A private secretary to a Minister 
 is all right ; lie is generally provided for sooner 
 or later; but if you're only private secretary 
 to your own father, and working away at 
 prospectuses and companies that never produce 
 anything but squabbles at the board meetings, 
 then it's rather dismal." 
 
 " Well, I must be going, Percy," Miss Lax- 
 bourne said. 
 
 " Oh, no, wait a minute ! When shall I see 
 you next ? I must think over the whole 
 situation, and find out if there's nothing to be 
 
 done." 
 
 "And soon, Percy ! For you know mamma's 
 way ; at any moment she may take it into her 
 head to be off to the south ; and then we should 
 have forty-eight hours' notice. If this cold 
 weather continues, she is just as likely as not to 
 do that." 
 
 " Yes, I will try to devise something, though 
 it seems pretty hopeless. When shall I see you 
 again, then? Are you going to Mrs. Meyer's 
 crush to-night ? " 
 
 " Oh, are you ? " 
 
 " If I thought you would be there, yes. But 
 I shouldn't care to hang about the place—
 
 JIMMIE 107 
 
 jammed in a crowd — having to take some old 
 woman down to supper, and all the rest, unless 
 I knew you were coming." 
 
 " Well, I couldn't be certain," his companion 
 said, " for you know mamma never decides till 
 the last minute, and to-night we are going to 
 the theatre. If you could be at the theatre, 
 then I could signal to you for certain." 
 
 " What theatre ? " 
 
 " The Lyceum. We are going to see Miss 
 Anderson's Partheniay 
 
 " I couldn't get a place ! " said he. 
 
 " Surely they would give you a chair at the 
 end of the stalls — opposite our box, I mean." 
 
 " And how are you to signal to me ? " said 
 he, for he was not aware of all the wiles of this 
 artful young woman. 
 
 " Oh, that's easy enough." 
 She gave him her muff to hold, and then 
 removed the furred glove from her right hand. 
 It was a very pretty, white, small, warm hand, 
 and on the third finger there was a hoop of 
 rubies and diamonds. 
 
 " If Uncle James only knew I was using the 
 ring he gave me to make clandestine appoint- 
 ments " 
 
 " Clandestine stuff! It's their own fault."
 
 io8 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " Whose fault ? " 
 
 "Oil, everybody's," said he, anxious not to 
 offend. 
 
 " Well, you know, " said she, " as soon as I 
 see you, I will put my hand on the edge of the 
 box ; and if the ring is on the small finger — 
 so — that means, ' All right: rce re going to Mrs. 
 Meyers' But if it's a little way on the fore- 
 finger, that means ' Tm awfully sorry : mamma 
 icont go' Now do you understand ? " she asked, 
 and she put back the ring in its accustomed place. 
 
 " But if it is where it is now, what message 
 
 will that be." 
 
 " Let me see. That will be ' I love you,' " 
 she said, rather coyly. 
 
 " Is that why you keep it there always ?" 
 
 " It is very, very rude to ask questions — • 
 don't you know that ? Now say good-bye, and 
 let me go." 
 
 " ' Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall 
 say good-bye till it be morrow.' " 
 
 " But that's mine," she said, instantly ; and it 
 is to be suspected that they had rehearsed that 
 scene before. 
 
 " Oh, no, it isn't," he answered. " Wait a 
 minute, I've something to tell you." 
 
 (Indeed it mattered little what he had to tell
 
 JIMMIE 109 
 
 her, so long as he could get her to remain there, 
 with her pretty oval chin resting on the boa, 
 and her blue eyes smiling attention.) 
 
 " I had to run down to Curwen on business 
 last week," he continued, " and you know the 
 old Hall is in rather a musty condition — it's 
 ever so much more cheerful at the Blue Lion, 
 and I generally put up there. But this time 
 they had made some little preparations at the 
 Hall, and besides Polly Parker was away " 
 
 " And who is Polly Parker ? " said Miss 
 Laxbourne, with a sudden coldness. 
 
 " She's the daughter of the landlord, and a 
 very lively young person she is." 
 
 " I was not aware that you cared for tlie 
 society of publicans' daughters." 
 
 " Well, it's a very curious thing, you know," 
 said he, " but it's a fact all the same, that some- 
 times publicans' daughters are just as pretty as 
 other people's daughters. Oh, don't you get 
 savage for nothing — I was talking about people 
 generally. Of course, I did not mean to 
 compare her with you." 
 
 " Thank you," said Miss Laxbourne, rather 
 stiffly, " but I am not in the habit of getting 
 savage. And I do not wish to be compared 
 with any one, if you please."
 
 no ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 Then sometMng happened which need not be 
 described here. It was a private matter. He 
 continued his tale. 
 
 " And just as I was going to tell you how 
 I was thinking about you all the time, you 
 ungrateful creature! There was I in a great 
 dusky room, with tapestry on the walls. And 
 if there's anything in the world I hate, it's 
 tapestry, if you're sitting alone ; for whenever 
 you turn there's a big fat ghost glaring at 
 you. Well, I said to myself, I would go 
 and get Romeo and Juliet, and read all your 
 speeches, as gently as ever I could, and then 
 answer them. I took a candle and went into 
 
 the library " 
 
 " Is it a ghost story, Percy ? " 
 " It's no story at all, you goose. The only 
 * Shakespeare ' I could find was a lithographic 
 facsimile of the first folio ; and I thought that 
 would do well enough ; and took it back with 
 me. But when I came to read your speeches, 
 and then mine, I made a discovery — at least, I 
 suppose it would be no discovery to the literary 
 swells, but it was to me. You never saw such 
 a hashing up of a text in all your born days. 
 It is Eomeo who says ' Parting is such sweet 
 sorrow ' — so you see I can claim that if I like.
 
 yiMMIE HI 
 
 Then Juliet says, ' Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, 
 peace in thy breast ' — so yon can steal that 
 from me if you choose ; but I know Shakespeare 
 meant it to be mine. Then Eomeo goes on : 
 * The gre^^-eyed morn smiles on the frowning 
 night,' and so forth, which clearly belongs to 
 the Friar, and is repeated further down the 
 page. And then 1 began to think : if these 
 two actor fellows, Hemminge and Condell, flung 
 Shakespeare's plays together in this way, what's 
 the good of the literar}^ swells swearing by 
 the sacred text of Shakespeare, and quarrelling 
 about the spelling of a single word ? Why, 
 you never saw such spelling and such blunders, 
 on every page. My private opinion is that 
 those two fellows were a couple of unmitigated 
 frauds — and that nobody has the least notion 
 
 how Shakespeare left his plays " 
 
 " Yes, dear ; but really I must go," said Miss 
 Laxbourne. The truth was that the two actors 
 who, as editors, made their bow to the public in 
 the first quarter of the seventeenth century, were 
 exceedingly interesting to him for the simple 
 reason that they served to keep the small green- 
 clad figure there in front of him ; but they were 
 less interesting to her, who knew that her mamma 
 might make inquiries as to her absence.
 
 112 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " At all events you must let me go as far as 
 Cluircli Street with you." 
 
 " Not into the thoroughfare." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 So together they walked westward, and crossed 
 Kensington Palace Gardens, and went along 
 the stone passage. At the corner she stopped 
 for a moment, and gave him her hand. 
 
 " You've mixed up all those speeches now, 
 Percy, and I don't know what to say." 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do — never mind whether it is 
 in Shakespeare or not. You know well enough." 
 
 " But I can't be saying that to you always. 
 Perhaps — if I think you're looking very nice — 
 I may say it by my ring to-night when you 
 come into the stalls." 
 
 And before he could remonstrate she was 
 away — making ibr Campden Hill and home. 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 WHITE LIES. 
 
 Mr. Meyer was a gentleman with rather a 
 nasal nose ; he was a well-known financier ; a 
 grower of orchids ; a giver of good dinners ;
 
 WHITE LIES 113 
 
 and a lavish patron of the arts. His wife be- 
 longed to an old historical English family, 
 now of faded fortunes ; and being a woman of 
 shrewdness, dexterity, and wit, to say nothing 
 of her personal charms, which were consider- 
 able, she had formed around her a very pleasant 
 circle of friends and acquaintances, who, on 
 their part, found her house a desirable haven. 
 She was exceedingly kind to Mr. Percy Blount, 
 because, as she said, " he was such a pretty 
 boy ; " but his father. Lord Amesleigh, would 
 not accept any of her invitations, no doubt 
 dreading to meet his arch-enemy, Mrs. Lax- 
 bourne, under Mrs. Meyer's hospitable roof. 
 
 Now the welcome message had been flashed 
 from the hoop of rubies and diamonds ; and as 
 soon as the play was over, the young gentleman 
 who had been lingering at the end of the stalls 
 made his way out, leisurely got into a cab, and 
 was driven to Lancaster Grate. Leisurely, be- 
 cause he wished to give Mrs. Laxbourne and 
 her daughter time to get there first, for reasons 
 he had. 
 
 When he went upstairs to the landing, and 
 was received by his smiling hostess, she said, 
 
 " Mima is here." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 I
 
 114 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " After this quarrelling, I suppose you Lad 
 better not let the mamma see you ? " 
 
 " I suppose not." 
 
 '* But, if you like, 1 will go and get Mima to 
 come and talk to me here," was the next good- 
 natured suggestion. 
 
 " Will you ? " said he ; but his eyes conveyed 
 more than his words. 
 
 Mrs. Meyer disappeared into the dense throng 
 within the rooms — there was music going on, 
 and also a good deal of talking in corners — 
 and presently emerged again, followed by the 
 anxious-eyed Miss Laxbourne. 
 
 "Oh, Percy," said the young lady (and this 
 was the way she entered into conversation with 
 Mrs. Meyer, who, good woman, paid no further 
 heed to her, but left her to her own devices), 
 " I am so glad you have come ! I have been 
 so miserable. I don't know how I was able to 
 make lio-ht of all this trouble when I saw vou 
 in the afternoon. It seems quite hopeless now. 
 You should hear how mamma goes on. All the 
 evening — in the theatre — I was wishing I had 
 never, never seen you, nor you me." 
 
 " Come in here," he said, and he touched her 
 arm, and she followed him a little way into a 
 side-room, where there was an improvised hiifet.
 
 WHITE LIES 115 
 
 There was no one in the place except a conple 
 of servants, who were behind the long tables, 
 and could not possibly make much out of the 
 undertones of these young folk. 
 
 "It isn't so bad as that, Jimmie," said he. 
 " Don't you get into a fright. Of course, it is 
 pretty awkward, I admit. So far we've only 
 been playing at Eomeo and Juliet ; but it looks 
 a little more serious now. However, keep up 
 your spirits, Jim ! " 
 
 '' But what's to be done, Percy 1 " she said, 
 with pleading eyes. 
 
 " "Well, I've been thinking, though I'm not 
 good at it. I'm an ass, I know ; but that's the 
 first step towards wisdom, to know you are 
 an ass. I've been thinking, Jimmie ; and the 
 only thing to be done is to tell a lot of white 
 lies." 
 
 " Who, dear ? " 
 
 " You and I." 
 
 " Then they'll have to bo awfull}^ white ones 
 that I have to tell, or else you'll never believe 
 me afterwards." 
 
 " Oh, you can put them all on to me. A 
 husband is responsible for his wife's debts — and 
 stratagems." 
 
 " That's looking a long way ahead, Percy." 
 
 I 2
 
 ii6 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " Oh, no, it isn't. I consider that is our 
 relationship now. Why, what difference does 
 the marriage ceremony make ? AVhat is the 
 difference between you as you go into the 
 church, to hear some words mumbled, and you 
 when you come out again and walk down to 
 the carriage ? " 
 
 " The difference ? " she said ; and her eyes 
 grew grave — which always meant mischief. 
 " The difference, I suppose, is that before you 
 are married young gentlemen are inclined to be 
 civil to you, and that afterwards they don't care 
 anything more about you." 
 
 " That's all you know, then," he said, trium- 
 phantly. " Tliat's your infantile innocence and 
 ignorance. It's only after a woman does get 
 married that she has a ' real good time ' with 
 the young fellows — and old fellows, too ; for 
 they're not afraid of her any longer." 
 
 " Are you afraid of me, Percy ? " 
 
 " Oh, I consider I'm as good as married 
 already. I'm in for it. I've done it." 
 
 " You needn't talk about it like that, any- 
 way," said she, pulling up her head a little bit. 
 
 At this moment the pretty Mrs. Meyer came 
 into the room. 
 
 " Ah, you two sketching again ? " she said,
 
 WHITE LIES 117 
 
 making nse of a phrase the meaning of which 
 is well understood in certain houses in London. 
 
 " Oh, no," Percy Blount said ; " only putting 
 in a few rough outlines." 
 
 " I'm afraid you'll have to come back to your 
 mamma, Mima," said the young matron. " I 
 don't want to get into trouble." 
 
 " Just a minute ! A couple of minutes," the 
 young man pleaded; and Mrs. Meyer good- 
 naturedly laughed and withdrew. 
 
 " This is my plan, Jimmie. You know what 
 an importance people put on the words 'I'm 
 sorry,' if only the other side will say them. 
 They will bold on to a quarrel, and fight it 
 through thick and thin, and spend hundreds 
 and thousands of pounds on it; but if onl^^ 
 their enemy will say, ' I am sorry ' — whew ! 
 it's all over. Now you've got to persuade your 
 mother that my father is sorry, and I've got to 
 persuade my father that your mother is sorry." 
 
 " But how, Percy ? " 
 
 " By inventing a number of little expressions 
 of regret — pity the thing ever went to law — 
 your mother says she never would have blocked 
 up the window if she had known we were 
 entitled to it — my father says he never would 
 have objected to the greenhouse if he had only
 
 ii8 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 been told beforeliand — more regret that the 
 thing ever went to law : don't you understand ? 
 Why, each will think the other confesses to 
 having been wrong ; and you can't help forgiv- 
 ing anybody who says, ' I'm sorry ; ' and then 
 all that is wanted is for Mrs. Meyer to ask them 
 both to dinner. And she'll do that for me — 
 she'll do anything for me " 
 
 " Because she is married ; and you are one 
 of the young gentlemen who are not afraid of 
 her ? " Miss Laxbourne asked, in innocent 
 pursuit of knowledge. 
 
 " Don't be saucy. Now listen. I will do all 
 the lying, and cheerfully " 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " 
 
 "Haven't I to save your conscience, you 
 tender young thing? And it will be quite 
 easy for you. All you will have to do will be 
 from time to time to say ' Mamma, I hear Lord 
 Amesleigh is awfully sorry he ever tried to stop 
 your building the greenhouse, and says it was all 
 a misunderstanding ; ' or, ' Mamma, 1 hear Lord 
 Amesleigh says he would never have made 
 that window if he had thought it would annoy 
 you,' and so on. You're not telling any lie ; 
 you did hear these things — from me." 
 
 " But if they're not true, Percy ? "
 
 WHITE LIES 119 
 
 " What's that to you ? That's my business. 
 You see, the law distinctly tells you that the 
 husband is answerable for his wife's debts — 
 and devices ; but that the wife isn't answerable 
 for the husband's : at least, I think that is the 
 law ; but as the lawyers themselves don't seem 
 to know what the law is, I won't be sure. 
 However, there it is ; I take it on me. And 
 then it is all in the interests of peace and good- 
 will. There's lying and lying. When I was 
 a small boy at school, the fellows would come to 
 me and say, ' Look here, Blount, Fred Hogan 
 says, for all you're an Honourable, he can knock 
 your head off.' I knew Hogan never said 
 anything of the kind ; but what could I do ? 
 Then they'd go to Hogan. ' Look here, Hogan, 
 Blount says he can kick you into the middle of 
 next week.' The result of that kind of lying 
 was war — bloody war, indeed ; but the result of 
 this kind of lying can only be peace. Now 
 are you satisfied ? " 
 
 "I hope it will all turn out right," Miss 
 Laxbourne said, with a bit of a sigh. 
 
 " Don't you see, Jimmie, when Mrs. Meyer 
 brings them together it will be a case of letting 
 bygones be bygones. They will each think the 
 other has been penitential, and it would be most
 
 I20 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 rude and unforgiving to reopen so painful a 
 subject. That is the sensible way of settling 
 the whole affair — instead of shutting up a poor 
 young lady in a charnel-house and murdering 
 people all over the place. So I'll tell you how 
 to begin — cautiously, cautiously, mind " 
 
 Here Mrs. Meyer appeared again, laughing, 
 but with a distinct warning. 
 
 " I really must go, dear," the yonng lady 
 said ; and then she looked at him with solemn 
 eyes. " And isn't it too bad of Mrs. Meyer 
 to say we're sketching ? It's far more serious 
 tlian that, isn't it, Percy ?" 
 
 " Why, of course it is ! " said he. " Sketch- 
 ing is only skylarking." 
 
 And with this recondite aphorism implanted 
 in her tender bosom. Miss Laxbourne returned 
 to the moving and murmuring throng. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS. 
 
 But it was a desperately difficult task these two 
 had undertaken ; for Mrs. Laxbourne was 
 furious, and Lord Amesleigh more than furious.
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS 121 
 
 Even Mrs. Meyer, who had been mainly instru- 
 mental in bringing the young people together, 
 and who was good-naturedly looking forward 
 to the possibility of pacification after the ill-will 
 begotten of the lawsuit had calmed down some- 
 what, did not dream of interfering thus pre- 
 maturely. 
 
 "Of course it will come right in the end," 
 she said to her husband. "It must. There 
 never was a more eligible match. Look at it. 
 You have a young fellow of good family who 
 hasn't a penny in the world, and his father 
 unable to do anything for him ; and you have 
 the only daughter — the only child, indeed — of 
 a rich widow ; and these two are head-over-ears 
 in love with each other. What more can you 
 want ? It must come right, if the father and 
 the mother have any reason left. If it doesn't, 
 they should be shut up in Bedlam." 
 
 Mrs. Meyer's husband had less enthusiasm, 
 perhaps less interest — he was a busy man. 
 
 " It ought to come all riglit, as you call it, if 
 they have any common sense," he said, rather 
 indifferently. " But it is wonderful how some 
 people love a quarrel — how they will hug it 
 and cherish it, as if it was a lap-dog — especially 
 a quarrel that has got into the law-courts.
 
 122 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 However, if you are so anxious to have the 
 affair made up, why don't you send Mima to 
 the old gentleman ? She should go down on 
 her knees, shouldn't she ? — that's the way they 
 do on the stage. And she has eyes pretty 
 enough for anything ; only pretty eyes don't 
 count for much when you are over sixty and 
 ill-tempered." 
 
 In the mean time the young lady with the 
 pretty eyes was confiding her fears, and sorrows, 
 and timid despairs to Percy Blount. They had 
 met once more in Kensington Gardens, and 
 were walking up and down over the thin 
 sprinkling of snow, and pretending to watch 
 the unusual scamperings of a big collie, that 
 skated a good deal as it went headlong across 
 the ice of the Round Pond after a ball thrown 
 by its master. 
 
 " If there was only ground glass in that 
 window," .^she said, piteously, " mamma might 
 more easily be reconciled to it." 
 
 " G-round glass ! what does that matter ? " he 
 said. " I suppose your mother is going to 
 build that greenhouse so that my father may 
 have the pleasure of seeing it every time he 
 goes out of the door ? " 
 
 " What is. the use of a greenhouse if people
 
 THE GO-BETV/EENS 123 
 
 can look into it from an opposite window ? " 
 said slie. 
 
 He stepped back a pace. 
 
 " Well, yoii are a pretty innocent, you are ! 
 That's a very nice speech for such a dear, 
 tender, young thing to make ! ' What's the 
 use of a greenhouse if people can look into it ? ' 
 Then the real use is to be a nice quiet corner 
 when the others are busy with music or after- 
 noon tea ? Oh, yes, Miss Slyboots " 
 
 " Percy, why will you put meanings into 
 everything I say ? " 
 
 "The proper uses of a greenhouse! — why 
 you should be made President of a Sketching- 
 Society." 
 
 "I never did a bit of sketching — never, 
 never ! " she said. " It was all real — from the 
 first moment I saw you ; and you've no right 
 to say such things of me ! * 
 
 "You never did a bit of sketching? How 
 about the Hudspeths' ball, and that white-faced, 
 yellow-moustached, lisping idiot from Oxford ? " 
 
 " Well, you were very ill-natured to me that 
 evening, and it served you right," said Miss 
 Jimmie. 
 
 " And that artist-fellow who wrote the verses 
 about you in the South Kensington Magazine f "
 
 124 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " If people choose to write verses, liow can 
 I help it? Percy, why will you quarrel ? Why 
 don't you be kind to me, when I take so much 
 trouble to come and see you ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose I'm always in the wrong, 
 he said, with admirable good-humour. 
 
 " Ah, now I see you are going to be dififerent, 
 said Miss Jimmie, approvingly. " I can always 
 tell by your eyes. It's when you try to trap 
 me that you're so unkind. It's when you try 
 to be clever ; and what's the use of that, Percy, 
 when you are not clever ? I mean not very, 
 very clever. It's far easier for you, and I'm 
 sure it's lar pleasanter for me, for you to be 
 just good and nice." 
 
 « My dear," said he, " on the raging prairies 
 I've often seen men shot for saying far less 
 than what you've just said to me ; but I forgive 
 you; for you're such a simple young thing; 
 and 'you never sketch; and you never gave 
 any lilies of the valley to Major Macdonald 
 when he asked you for them at the carriage- 
 door; and you never stopped on board the 
 Lamberts' boat at Henley, along with Sidney 
 Weigall, when I had promised the Greys that 
 you\nd your mother were coming to lunch 
 with them. But it is no use^ beginning a cata- 
 logue of your iniquities "
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS 125 
 
 " It's all very fine for you to say that," she 
 said, sharply. " You — who are the most 
 abominable flirt I ever saw in my life ! " 
 
 " Tell me what you have said to your mother," 
 he said, with some prudence ; and instantly her 
 manner changed ; for this was recalling her 
 from these sham quarrel to the serious realities 
 of their position. 
 
 " Well, Percy, I haven't done much good so 
 far," she said. " Of course, mamma knows that 
 I have seen you. And you told me I should 
 be justified in saying to her that your father 
 bitterly regretted having gone to law." 
 
 " Justified ! I should think so : you never 
 said a truer word in your life," he interposed, 
 rather grimly. " The estimated costs five hun- 
 dred pounds ; that means six hundred to pay. 
 Of course your mother would think little of 
 that; but it's serious for us. Well, did she 
 say anything ? " 
 
 " She said, ' No doubt he does, and serve him 
 right,' " answered Miss Jimmie, honestly. 
 
 " That can hardly be called promising for 
 a beginning," Mr. Percy said, " but my scheme 
 is young yet. Well, did you say anything 
 more ? " 
 
 " No ; I didn't dare. For do you know what
 
 126 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 frightens me, Percy ? Mamma has taken this 
 quarrel so much to heart that I am sure, if she 
 thought I sympathised with your side, she 
 would forbid me ever to see you, or to speak 
 to you again. Mind you, I think it is awfully 
 good of her that she hasn't said so already ; for 
 she must know that you and I meet occasionally, 
 at Mrs. Meyer's and elsewhere ; though she 
 doesn't know the meaning of the postage-stamp 
 on the pane. Well, I say it is all the fault of 
 the lawyers that we should have to meet in this 
 hole-and-corner way ; fancy their dawdling over 
 that case for a whole eight months, and then 
 making a hash of it in the end. And now I 
 am quite afraid to speak of it to mamma, in case 
 she should say, ' I forbid you to have any further 
 communication with Mr. Blount.' " 
 
 " But what would that matter ? " 
 
 " It would matter everything," said she, 
 rather pensively. 
 
 " You don't mean to say you would give me 
 up just because of a freak of your mother's?" 
 he demanded, with indignant eyes. 
 
 " If it was her wish, she would make me," 
 said Miss Jimmie, sadly. " It's little you know 
 how a girl is situated." 
 
 " Now, don't you be an ass, Jimmie," he
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS 127 
 
 exclaimed. " Do you mean to say you would 
 like to play Romeo and Juliet in earnest ? Do 
 you mean to say you would allow your mother 
 to take you away, and shut you up, and stuff 
 of that kind ? That is all very well in plays, 
 but doesn't belong to the nineteenth century 
 at all." 
 
 *'I don't look at it that way, Percy, when 
 I am with you. That is just where it is. 
 When I am with you, I feel sure everythiug 
 will be right." 
 
 " And everything will be right," said he, 
 in a comfortiuo; fashion. " All we have to do 
 is to treat those two pugilistic people with a 
 little judicious skill." 
 
 So they parted at that time. But, to do the 
 young man justice, it was with a good deal 
 more than a little judicious skill that he pro- 
 ceeded to work out his scheme. The difficulties 
 were all at the beginning. It was with impa- 
 tient anger that Lord Amesleigh received Mrs. 
 Laxbourne's admission — as gently conveyed by 
 his son Percy — that she wished there had been 
 no lawsuit. A similar admission on the part 
 of Lord Amesleigh — conveyed by Miss Lax- 
 bourne — was received by Mrs. Laxbourne in 
 sullen silence. These were but initial steps,
 
 uS ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 however. Whenever either of the elder people 
 could be got to talk on the subject, there was 
 sure to be some phrase used which, with a little 
 useful colouring, could be made presentable to 
 the other side. Moreover, a man likes to be 
 told that he has been right in a quarrel ; and 
 if he thinks that a little generosity on his part 
 will secure for him that grateful assurance, he 
 will hardly begrudge it. 
 
 " It isn't half so easy to make people friends 
 as to make them enemies," said Percy Blount 
 to his timid fellow-conspirator. " But we're 
 getting on. And now you can tell your mother 
 that my father as good as says that if he had 
 known the window would be such an annoy- 
 ance he never would have had it made." 
 
 " But did he say so, Percy ? " 
 
 '' Well — you — see — in fact — I don't know 
 that he used these exact words — not these 
 precise words, perhaps — but you give the 
 general effect, don't you know ? And after 
 that your mother ought to say something 
 handsome about the greenhouse." 
 
 " She has never said a word about building 
 it, Percy." 
 
 " Perhaps she won't build ? " he said, eagerly. 
 
 " Perhaps not."
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS 129 
 
 "Then I may tell my father that your 
 mother won't build the greenhouse after all ? " 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't say that, Percy — I wouldn't 
 say that precisely — not precisely.'' 
 
 " Oh, I tell you we are getting on first-rate ! " 
 said he, with the greatest confidence. 
 
 Indeed, matters went on very well ; and in 
 due time it was mutually understood that botli 
 parties were very sorry the lawsuit had ever 
 been entered upon ; and that each was free to 
 admit that the other had a good deal of right 
 on his and her side. No doubt the well-known 
 attachment of the young peoj)le helped towards 
 this desirable consummation ; Lord Amesleigh 
 being quite aware that a marriage with Miss 
 Laxbourne would be a most excellent thing for 
 his younger son ; and Mrs. Laxbourne being- 
 ready to acknowledge that Mr. Percy Blount 
 was a very pleasant-mannered young man. 
 
 This was the situation of affairs when one 
 morning Mrs. Laxbourne and her daughter, 
 having been shopping down in Kensington 
 High Street, were returning home by Campden 
 Hill Eoad. 
 
 " Mamma," said the daughter, in a breathless 
 undertone, " here is Lord Amesleigh coming 
 ^long ! " 
 
 K
 
 I30 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 *' Well ? " was tlie only and rather chilling 
 answer. 
 
 "But you'll bow to him, won't you? — oh, 
 yes ! — he has been so civil and anxious to 
 make everything up." 
 
 She could not say any more because of 
 Lord Amesleigh's approach. It was clear that 
 the two enemies distrusted each other. He 
 regarded her rather distantly ; she pretended 
 not to know of his coming. And then, when 
 he was quite near, she raised her eyes — ready 
 to whip them away if he was not expecting 
 recognition ; the next moment he was raising 
 his hat ; Mrs. Laxbourne bowed ; and poor little 
 Jimmie bowed too, and then the widow sailed 
 majestically on. 
 
 " You're such a dear mother ! " the girl said, 
 and she clung to her arm ; but Mrs. Laxbourne 
 did not smile, nor look pleased, nor fluttered ; 
 what she had done had been demanded of her 
 by the merest forms of courtesy. 
 
 Arrived within doors, Miss Jimmie, her heart 
 bubbling over with joy, immediately ran to her 
 own room ; and there and quickly did she take 
 out a postage-stamp and press it to her lips — 
 happy postage-stamp ! — and put it on the upper 
 corner of the lower sash of the window. From
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS 131 
 
 the outside that postage-stamp, to any one who 
 chanced to see it, would have appeared an insig- 
 nificant speck ; but if Percy Blount happened to 
 be coming by that way — which was highly prob- 
 able, seeing that he lived next door — he would 
 recognize its importance. For Miss Jimmie, 
 driven by the hard necessities of fate, had 
 become skilled in the use of telegraphic signals ; 
 and the postage-stamp on the window-pane 
 meant nothing less than " Dear Percy, he sure 
 to meet me at the Round Pond at four clock 
 this afternoon.'''' 
 
 And at four o'clock that afternoon there he 
 was. 
 
 " Oh, Percy, I have such good news ! " she 
 cried. 
 
 " I thought you had, by the way you came 
 along — with a step as liglit as a fairy. We'll 
 have to enter you for a walking-match at Lillie 
 Bridge. AVhat is it ? " 
 
 " Mamma and I met your fatlier this morn- 
 ing ; and she bowed to him, and he bowed to 
 her ! " 
 
 " You don't mean that ! " 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " We've done it — and I told you we should," 
 he said, rather patronisingly. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 '^ Well, Percy, I will beg j^our pardon ; I did 
 not think you were so clever — and everything 
 has turned out exactly as you said." 
 
 "What's the next thing to be done?*' said 
 he. " I've heard of chemical experiments in 
 which you place two substances together and 
 let them melt separately, and they'll keep 
 separate, too, so long as they are motionless, 
 but the moment you jog the dish they rush 
 together. Who's going to jog the dish ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, Percy." 
 
 " Have you time to come with me to Mrs. 
 Meyer's?" 
 
 " What, now ? " 
 
 " Yes, this instant." 
 
 " No ; I must go back home at once. Besides, 
 how could you and I go together to Mrs. 
 Meyer's ? Even if we were engaged, I shouldn't 
 much like it." 
 
 " Oh, we are not engaged then ? " said he. 
 
 " A proper engagement is when the parents 
 know," said the young lady. 
 
 "But if parents will go to law for eight months, 
 tilings will happen in the mean time inde- 
 pendently of them, don't you see ? Well, I will 
 go on to Mrs. Meyer's by myself." 
 
 " What for, Percy ? "
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS 133 
 
 "Never you mind," said the arch-plotter. 
 " Something strange will happen ere long, as 
 Zadkiel says." 
 
 After a few minutes' further talk, immaterial 
 to this narrative, they parted, and he made 
 straight away northward for Lancaster Gate. 
 There were a number of people in Mrs. Meyer's 
 drawing-room, and he was furnished with some 
 tea and an elderly lady to entertain. But by- 
 and-by Mrs. Meyer, finding an opportunity, 
 took him a little bit aside. 
 
 " What is it you want ? " she said, laughing. 
 " It wasn't for tea and talk you came here this 
 afternoon. Cigarettes and billiards, I imagine, 
 are what you fill up your leisure time with — 
 unless when you're skirmishing around with 
 Mima Laxbourne. What is it ? " 
 
 " I want you to ask my father and Mrs. 
 Laxbourne to dinner on the same night," said 
 he. 
 
 " What ? " she cried. " Do vou think I want 
 the chandeliers smashed ? " 
 
 " I assure you they will meet most peaceably 
 — in the most friendly way," he said. 
 
 It will be remembered that when Barbara 
 Allan went to visit Sir John Graham of the 
 West Countrie the remark she made — and it
 
 134 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 was to the point, if it was not exactly con- 
 siderate — was 
 
 " Young man, I think ye're Ijang." 
 
 Now Mrs. Meyer did not say anything like that 
 to Percy Blount ; but a phrase remarkably 
 similar to it in sound passed through her mind. 
 Nay, more, her obvious incredulity was visible 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " I see you don't believe me, but it's a fact," 
 he maintained. " Ever since that lawsuit was 
 settled they have been regretting it was ever 
 begun ; and now I am sure they want to make 
 matters up. This very morning my father met 
 Mrs. Laxbourne in the street, and she bowed to 
 him and he bowed to her." 
 
 " Is that so ? You're not hoaxing me ? " 
 
 " I give you my word of honour that Miss 
 Laxbourne, who was with her mother at the 
 time, told me herself within the last half-hour." 
 
 " Oh, very well. I will make the experiment, 
 if you like. And I suppose I am to ask you 
 and Mima too ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, certainly not ; that would be ex- 
 pecting far too much. Indeed, I think it would 
 be better without us." 
 
 " Ab, young people don't care much about
 
 THE GO-BETWEENS 135 
 
 the dinner-part of an evening/' said Mrs. Meyer, 
 in no unkindly way. " Well, you and she can 
 come in later on, and amuse yourselves with a 
 little sketching. You certainly don't affect 
 much concealment about it." 
 
 " Why should we ? We are engaged." 
 
 " Indeed ? What does the mamma say ? " 
 
 " She hasn't said anything, for she hasn't 
 been asked. But that will be all right, I know. 
 And as for the sketching, I am sure you are 
 unjust, Mrs. Meyer. I never saw two people 
 who conducted themselves with so much de- 
 corum and propriety as Miss Laxbourne and 
 myself — never ! " 
 
 "I like that! But how are you to know? 
 You have no eyes for any one but your two 
 selves. How are you to know how other people 
 behave ? " 
 
 A couple more visitors came in. 
 
 " I will see what our engagements are, and 
 fix a night," she said to him. 
 
 " You are just goodness itself," he said, as 
 she moved away to receive the new-comers.
 
 136 ROMEO AND yULlET 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A DINNER PARTY. 
 
 When Mrs. Meyer received from Lord Ames- 
 leigli a note accepting her invitation to dinner 
 she began to believe that Percy Blount had 
 reported quite truly on the position of affairs, 
 and that she was about to purchase the honour 
 and glory of becoming the pacificator between 
 the two families on very easy terms. Mrs. 
 Laxbourne accepted too ; and as there was to be 
 a crush later on in the evening, it was under- 
 stood that the young people would make their 
 appearance then. 
 
 " Do you think I dare place those two next 
 each other at dinner ? " Mrs. Meyer asked of 
 her husband. 
 
 " I should say decidedly not, if you have any 
 doubt about it," was the instant reply. 
 
 " Percy begged me to do it, so that they 
 might have every chance of making it up," she 
 said. 
 
 " You know quite well," he answered, " that 
 when a young fellow is mad about a ^-iri there's
 
 A DINNER PARTY 137 
 
 nothing he won't do to serve his own ends ? 
 What does he care, when he asks you to risk a 
 scene r 
 
 " How can there be a scene, PhiHp ? They 
 are civilized people." 
 
 "Civilized people may hate each other like 
 poison ; and often do." 
 
 " If the very worst happens," she urged, but 
 she was clearly in some doubt, " the only thing 
 they could do would be to ignore each other's 
 presence, and talk to their next neighbour." 
 
 " Have it your own way," said he, returning 
 to the pages of the Economist; "whatever 
 does happen will happen at your end of the 
 table, not at mine." 
 
 This was but cold comfort ; and, indeed, on 
 the evening of the dinner-party, as the hour for 
 the arrival of the guests drew near, Mrs. Meyer 
 had to confess to herself that she was not a little 
 nervous. And yet what had she to fear? 
 Percy Blount had assured her again and again 
 that it was impossible they should reopen so 
 painful a subject. Both of them would be glad 
 enough to say nothing at all about it. On the 
 other hand, it was pretty clear that they wanted 
 to sink their differences ; why should she dread 
 a collision between two people who were coming
 
 138 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 to her house for the almost ostensible purpose 
 of making friends ? 
 
 Lord Amesleigh came late, and immediately 
 after his arrival dinner was announced as 
 served. He and his hostess, of course, went 
 down last ; and when he got to the end of the 
 table he found Mrs. Laxbourne just taking her 
 place — the next to his own. They bowed to 
 each other, quite pleasantly ; and Mrs. Meyer 
 the moment they were all seated, oj)ened the 
 ball in a dexterous fashion. 
 
 " This should be a proud day for Lord Ames- 
 leigh," she said, addressing Mrs. Laxbourne. 
 " I suppose you saw what was in this morning's 
 papers ? " < 
 
 She was referring to the letter of a special 
 correspondent in the Soudan, who described in 
 detail a signal act of gallantry performed by 
 Lord Amesleigh's eldest son at a very critical 
 moment indeed, when the Arabs had actually 
 broken the square at one part, and mischief 
 seemed imminent. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Laxbourne, smiling, 
 " Mima read out the account to me this morning. 
 And we were wondering whether we should 
 see his portrait in the illustrated journals." 
 
 " Ahj^ I never thought of that," Lord Ames-
 
 A DINNER PARTY I39 
 
 lei gh said, looking up from his sonp. "Don't 
 know how it's done. Do they ask yon for a 
 photograph ? " 
 
 " Wouldn't you send it ? " Mrs. Laxbourne 
 suggested; and she added, graciously: "I'm 
 sure we should all be proud to see it." 
 
 " I'm afraid it would be hardly the thing for 
 the boy's own father to say he thought his 
 portrait should be published — besides, I don't 
 know that Charlie would like it. He is rather 
 young to be figuring as a public character." 
 
 " What is his age, Lord Amesleigh ? " said 
 the widow ; and Mrs. Meyer, seeing them now 
 well started (to her great relief), left them to 
 themselves, and turned to her neighbour on the 
 other side. 
 
 Indeed, they got on very well, considering 
 that Lord Amesleigh was not much of a talker ; 
 and Mrs. Laxbourne was considerably gracious, 
 in her magnificent manner. Naturally, certain 
 subjects were carefully avoided ; there was not 
 much conversation, for example, about green- 
 houses, or windows, or lawyers, or costs. But 
 Mrs. Clever observed with much satisfiiction 
 that Montague continued as complaisant to- 
 wards his neighbour as his business-like atten- 
 tion to his dinner allowed ; while Lady Capulet
 
 I40 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 remained as amiable and pleasant as was con- 
 sistent with her somewhat grand air. 
 
 Dinner and dessert over, the ladies went, and 
 Mr. Meyer took his wife's place. Now the 
 financier's port wine was excellent, and Lord 
 Amesleigh knew it ; and, having no interest in 
 the feeble platitudes that constitute after-dinner 
 politics (his own opinions were of a distinctly 
 robust type, if he had cared to express them), 
 he devoted himself to the '47 with deliberation 
 and method. To ask the great financier for 
 advice or assistance with regard to any of the 
 numerous companies which his lordship was 
 painfully trying to float or keep afloat, was, at 
 the man's own table impossible ; Lord Ames- 
 leigh had no kind of concern in the discussion 
 of Fair Trade v. Free Trade ; the port wine was 
 of undeniable quality : and so far all was well. 
 
 Nevertheless, it may have been that extra 
 glass or two of port that was responsible for 
 what followed. When Lord Amesleigh went 
 upstairs to the drawing-room along with the 
 other gentlemen he was in an unusually amiable 
 mood ; and to make it evident that no ill-feeling 
 remained between him and his former enemy, 
 he crossed the room and took a seat side by side 
 with the lady whom a few weeks before he had
 
 A DINNER PARTY 141 
 
 described as a poisonous witcb. Amid tbe 
 general bum of conversation (guests were be- 
 ginning to arrive now, and Mrs. Meyer was 
 expecting every minute a famous baritone to 
 make his appearance) Lord Amesleigli no doubt 
 considered that be could speak confidentially 
 to bis neighbour ; and so be said, witb tbe 
 pleasantest manner be could assume, 
 
 " I must not be outdone in generosit}^, Mrs. 
 Laxbourne. I bad not intended speaking of 
 tbe little painful matter ; and of course it is 
 better to let bygones be bygones ; however, you 
 must let me say that I am quite sensible of — of 
 • — well, I will say your good sense in taking 
 the initiative in promoting a friendly under- 
 standing, and nothing could be more amiable 
 than your undertaking not to build tbe green- 
 house " 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " she said, sharply. 
 
 He looked rather surprised at her sudden 
 change of manner. 
 
 " Your undertaking not to build tbe green- 
 bouse " be began again 
 
 '' And when did I ever give any such under- 
 taking ? " said she, indignantly. " And to 
 whom ? " 
 
 He began to be a bit nettled too.
 
 142 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " I don't suppose you put it down in 
 writing," he said, with a touch of impatience. 
 " But I was certainly led to understand that 
 you did not propose to proceed with the build- 
 ing of the greenhouse. Certainly I understood 
 as much. Why, what would be the value of 
 your expressions of regret over the whole affair 
 if you — if you still insisted on building that 
 house ? Really " 
 
 " Really," said the widow, breaking in upon 
 him — and amazement as well as indignation 
 was in her eyes — " really I don't know what 
 you mean. My expressions of regret ? My 
 taking the initiative ? It was your expressions 
 of regret that I listened to, and took into con- 
 sideration ! The initiative, as I understood it, 
 was yours. And as for any undertaking, the 
 only undertaking I know of is that you have 
 promised to block up that window ! " 
 
 " What ? " he exclaimed — and it was fortu- 
 nate that the bustle of arrivin2: visitors and 
 of the general conversation was considerable. 
 " What lunacy is this ? Block up the window ? 
 Who said I would block up the window ? I 
 suppose you don't reflect that I shall have to 
 pay six or seven hundred pounds for that 
 window ? "
 
 A DINNER PARTY 143 
 
 *' I suppose that when people lose a lawsuit 
 they have got to pay," she said, with a cold 
 masrnificence of manner. 
 
 " When people have fools for counsel and 
 dolts for judges, they ma}^ expect the verdict 
 to o"0 airainst them," he retorted. 
 
 "I dare say that is what the losing side 
 generally think," she remarked, rather super- 
 ciliously. 
 
 Where was the regret of which he had heard 
 so much? There was a good deal more of 
 triumph in her tone. 
 
 "The losing side?" he said, with some 
 warmth. " Let me point out to you that you 
 did not win everything. I don't think you 
 will put up that hoarding again that the Court 
 of Chancery ordered to be removed." 
 
 She flushed with vexation, but grew more 
 stately than ever. 
 
 " Lord Amesleigh, I did not come here in 
 order to discuss points of law with you. I was 
 told that you deeply regretted the whole affair, 
 that your were anxious to come to more friendly 
 terms, that you had said if you had known the 
 window was to have been an annoyance you 
 would never have had it put there, and that 
 you were going to block it up. I find I have
 
 144 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 been grossly deceived — by stories tbat must 
 have come from your son " 
 
 " I tell you, madam, it is I who Have been 
 grossly deceived ! " lie exclaimed, vehemently ; 
 *• and by stories that must have come through 
 your daughter " 
 
 " Lord Amesleigh ! '* 
 
 He rose. 
 
 " I wish you good evening, madam ! " he 
 said, with a profound bow, though his face was 
 purple with rage ; and so furious was he that 
 he passed Mrs. Meyer — who was busy with her 
 guests, and did not notice him — without bidding 
 her " Grood night ! " and went downstairs, and 
 got his coat and hat, and stormil}'- left the 
 house. 
 
 Then ]\Irs. Laxbourne, in just about as violent 
 a temper, but outwardly cahn and self-possessed, 
 came along. 
 
 " Grood night, Mrs, Meyer ! " said she ; and 
 she held out her hand. 
 
 Her hostess stared. 
 
 *' You are not going ! There will be a little 
 music presently. And your daughter " 
 
 " Neither my daughter nor myself/' said 
 Mrs. Laxbourne, " will in future go anywhere 
 that we are likely to meet Lord Amesleigh."
 
 A DINNER PARTY 145 
 
 Mrs. Meyer glanced hastily round the two 
 rooms. 
 
 "Bless me, he has gone! What has hap- 
 jDened, dear Mrs. Laxbourne ? " 
 
 The poor little woman was really in a 
 dreadful predicament. Here were her visitors 
 arriving — to whom she had to be smiling and 
 civil, shaking hands, remembering names, and 
 asking pertinent little questions — and here, on 
 the other hand, was a guest wanting to get 
 away, who, if she did get away in this temper, 
 would never enter her door again. Fortunately, 
 just at this moment there was a brief lull in the 
 arrival of the people, and she hastily took 
 advantage of it. 
 
 " Tell me what is the matter, dear Mrs. 
 Laxbourne ! I understood you wished to meet 
 Lord Amesleigh ; I was told he was most 
 anxious to meet you. I hope nothing disagree- 
 able has occurred ? " 
 
 " I have been brought here under false 
 pretences — that is all," said the widow, stifiSy. 
 
 This was a little too much. 
 
 " Not of mine," her hostess said. 
 
 "No; certainly not. But I was told that 
 Lord Amesleigh had expressed his regret about 
 ever having gone to law, and was willing to be 
 
 L
 
 146 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 accommodating in every way, and so I con- 
 sented to meet him ; and now I find him more 
 vindictive than ever, glorying in the small 
 piece of triumph that the Court allowed him, 
 and imagining that I — that I — had taken the 
 first steps to conciliate him ! Really, it is too 
 ridiculous. The Court unanimously of opinion 
 that he was wholly in the wrong ; and I am 
 the one to profess to be sorry — and to give 
 undertakings not to use my just rights " 
 
 " It is for the victor to be generous," said 
 Mrs. Meyer. 
 
 " At all events, I shall not subject myself to 
 such another interview," said Mrs. Laxbourne, 
 loftily. " Will you tell Mima, if she should 
 have left before I get home, to return at once 
 I shall be waiting for her." 
 
 " I am so awfully sorry, dear Mrs. Lax- 
 bourne," the perturbed hostess said ; " and that 
 it should have happened in my house. Won't 
 you stay until Mima comes ? "Your carriage 
 won't be below." 
 
 " I would rather go, thank you. I suppose 
 one of your servants can get me a cab," said 
 the indignant widow ; and forthwith she went 
 down to the cloak-room, and they got her a 
 cab, and away she went home.
 
 A DINNER PARTY 147 
 
 A little while after that Mr. Percy Blount 
 made his appearance. 
 
 " Mima come yet ? " he asked, when he got 
 to the head of the stairs. 
 
 " No, she is not," Mrs. Meyer answered in an 
 undertone — for there was some music going on 
 — a violin solo, with piano accompaniment — ■ 
 " nor is she coming." 
 
 Something in her manner struck him. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Everything. As far as I understand, 
 your father has gone away in a furious rage ; 
 and Mrs. Laxbourne is in the same condition. 
 Didn't you tell me these two wanted to see each 
 other ? " 
 
 " Certainly I did," he answered, looking 
 rather alarmed. " What has happened ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? Apparently they have 
 had a battle royal over that horrid law case. 
 Didn't you tell me there would not be a word 
 said about it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did," he answered, and now hu 
 looked rather guilty. " Certainly I did. Both 
 of them, I know quite well, were willing to let 
 bygones be bygones. I know it. You don't 
 have bitter enemies bow to each other in the 
 street. And of course we thought— I thought 
 
 L 2
 
 148 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 • — that when they met they would agree to say 
 nothing. When you are content to let bygones 
 be bygones, you don't rake up the whole quarrel 
 again. How did it happen, Mrs. Meyer? " 
 
 " I tell you I don't know ; but there they 
 are — gone off; and each, I suppose, with a 
 deadly grudge against me. I am glad there 
 was no scene, that is all." 
 
 He stood silent for a second or two in a 
 pretty obvious quandary. Then there was 
 some applause within the rooms, the instru- 
 mental duet was at an end. 
 
 " Wait a moment, and I will come back to 
 you," Mrs. Meyer said, and she disappeared 
 into the crowd, to seize upon some other 
 executant. When she returned, she said : " You 
 must be able to explain, if anybody can, why 
 there should be a quarrel. When they sat 
 down to dinner they seemed to be friendly 
 enough. They talked to each other just like 
 ordinary peoj^le. I was very glad ; for I hate 
 quarrels ; and I was thinking of poor little 
 Mima. Then tliey came up here ; and here it 
 was the fight must have began about the law- 
 suit ; and now both of them are gone — boiling. 
 That is not a nice thing to have happen in one's 
 house, you know. '
 
 A DINNER PARTY 149 
 
 She reo-arded him for a second with scrutinis- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Percy ; what have you heen 
 up to ? I fancy you must know something 
 about this misunderstanding. It was you who 
 were so anxious to bring them together." 
 
 Thus challenged, he thought he might as 
 well make a clean breast of it ; and he briefly 
 described the plan he had devised for bridging 
 over the gulf between the two families. 
 
 " Mind you," he added, " we didn't tell any 
 downright lies ; but only added a little friendly 
 colouring here and there to whatever admis- 
 sions we could get them to make. Of course 
 Mima and I thought that if we could only bring 
 them together, that would be all that was 
 necessary ; for we assumed that they would not 
 say a word about what was past. How they 
 ever came to speak of it, I can't imagine ; but 
 I can imagine how, if they were beginning to 
 discuss matters, they might discover that their 
 willingness to be amiable and accommodating 
 had been a little — ^just a little — exaggerated. I 
 didn't sec any harm in it — just to make them 
 friends, don't you know — and they did say 
 things at times that could naturally be twisted 
 into ' Sorry I did it,' ' Wouldn't do it another
 
 I50 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 time,' ' Make it up now, if you like.' Oh, mind 
 this, if any one is to blame, I take the whole. 
 Mima only said what I told her to say." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Meyer, looking at him 
 with laughing eyes, though she hardly thought 
 it was a laughing matter, "you are a pretty 
 pair of children ; and you have got into a 
 very pretty mess this time. What are you 
 going to do ?" 
 
 " How can I say ? All this is new to me. I 
 suppose there is no chance now of Jimmie — I 
 mean, Mima — coming here to-night ? " 
 
 " Oh no, none. She will be forbidden the 
 house, I suppose. And I don't imagine you 
 will find the mamma so well-disposed towards 
 you. She winked at a good deal, Mr. Percy, 
 for she is very fond of Mima ; but you've roused 
 the lion in her this time." 
 
 *' You needn't go prophesying evil, Mrs. 
 Meyer," he said, gloomily. " What can she 
 do?" 
 
 " I hope — I say I hope — she won't compel 
 Mima to promise to have nothing more to do 
 with you or your family." 
 
 " Mima won't be such a fool as to promise 
 anything of the kind," he said, warmly. 
 
 " ' Children, obey your parents,' " observed
 
 A CONSPIRACY 151 
 
 Mrs. Meyer, dispassionately ; but now she had to 
 go away to attend to her guests — leaving him 
 in a very depressed and distressful mood indeed. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A CONSPIRACY. 
 
 On the second morning after the occurrence 
 of these tragic events Mrs. Meyer had just left 
 her house and was proceeding westward to- 
 wards Netting Hill, when she met Miss Jimmie. 
 The young lady was for passing unnoticed, her 
 eyes bent on the pavement, a blush of embar- 
 rassment mounting to her pale and pretty face. 
 
 '' Mima Laxbourne," exclaimed Mrs. Meyer — • 
 and a womaa is very indignant indeed when 
 she addresses her friend by both Christian and 
 surname — " Mima Laxbourne, what do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 The girl paused and looked up, in a hesi- 
 tating, piteous, confused way. 
 
 " Don't be vexed with me, dear Mrs. Meyer, 
 but — but — mamma might think I had stopped 
 to speak to you about Percy ! " 
 
 " And why shouldn't you speak to me about 
 Percy ? " Mrs. Meyer demanded.
 
 152 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " Then you don't know ? " the girl said, 
 timidly, and as she spoke the round blue eyes 
 grew quickly moist. " It's — it's all over be- 
 tween Percy and me." 
 
 Downright anger kept Mrs. Meyer silent for 
 a second, then she said — and very sharply she 
 said it, too — • 
 
 " Upon my word, people who are such 
 maniacs as to go to law should be deprived of 
 the custody of their children. They are not 
 fit to be trusted with them. So it's all over 
 between Percy and you, is it ? And what does 
 Percy say ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I have not seen him. I 
 must not see him. I am to send him back — 
 the little presents he has given me now and 
 again, but — but — I haven't had the heart to do 
 that yet." 
 
 She took out her handkerchief to brush away 
 the tears from her eyelashes. Mrs. Meyer grew 
 more and more angry, and none the less so that 
 she was aware of her own helplessness in the 
 matter. 
 
 " Really, it is too ridiculous ! " she exclaimed. 
 " What did you want with a greenhouse on 
 that side when you had those two behind ? " 
 
 *'I don't know," said Miss Jimmie,
 
 A CONSPIRACY 153 
 
 " And what on earth did Lord Amesleigh 
 want with that window ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," she said, with a bit 
 of a sob, " except to make people miserable." 
 
 " Of course I can understand your mother 
 being vexed on finding out the trick that was 
 played on her " 
 
 " It wasn't a trick, Mrs. Meyer," Miss Jimmie 
 said, pleadingly ; " we only wanted to make 
 them friends. And we thought they wished 
 to come together, and that they would never 
 mention the lawsuit. Percy was quite certain 
 that everything would go right." 
 
 "And of course you thought as Percy 
 thought. Well, you have landed yourselves 
 into a very pretty mess ; and who is going to 
 pull you out, do you think ? " 
 
 "Oh, I have no hope now," the girl said. 
 " Mamma has quite made up her mind. It's 
 all over. And — and I am not allowed to speak 
 of him — to her or to any one ; and — and so I'll 
 bid you good-bye." 
 
 She held out her hand. 
 
 " Good-bye ! Are you going away, then ? " 
 
 "I don't know. Mamma will not tell me 
 anything," was the answer. 
 
 So these two parted. But Mrs. Meyer, as she
 
 154 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 went on to the florist's shop in Netting Hill 
 High Street, and also on her way back home, 
 was very much perturbed. She was exceed- 
 ingly fond of both these young people. Her 
 common sense was outraged by the spectacle 
 of all this mischief arising out of sheer per- 
 versity. Then she had a married woman's 
 natural interest in promoting a match — as if 
 the mischief already done was not sufficient. 
 Accordingly, when her husband came home 
 that afternoon, she put the whole case before 
 him. 
 
 "You had better keep out of it, anyway,'' 
 was his instant decision, for he was an un- 
 romantic person, who found his own affairs 
 quite sufficient for the time at his disposal. 
 " You see what has come of your interference 
 so far. If people are determined to quarrel, 
 they will quarrel ; and they get to like it." 
 
 "Yes ; but tliink of poor Mima," said his wife, 
 with pathetic eyes. " And Percy, too. He is 
 sure to come to me. And what can I do ? " 
 
 " That is what I say. What can you do ? 
 You can't do anything. There's no Gretna 
 Green nowadays ; you can't lend them a car- 
 riage and a couple of outriders, and send them 
 flying away to the North."
 
 A CONSPIRACY 155 
 
 " I know I am quite helpless, Philip," his wife 
 confessed. " But if you would be good-natured 
 about it, I see a way. And I'm sure you're just 
 as fond of poor Mima as I am ; and really — ■ 
 really to see her so miserable and heartbroken 
 as she was this morning, and to think of its 
 all arising from this monstrous folly " 
 
 "People who go to law don't call it mon- 
 strous folly," Mr. Meyer observed, sententiously, 
 " They call it obtaining justice. And they're 
 generally very much disgusted with it when 
 they get it." 
 
 " But other people may call it folly. Now, 
 Philip, do be good-natured for once, and help 
 me to put all this right," she pleaded again. 
 
 " What do you want me to do ? " 
 
 " Well, I see only one way. Mima must get 
 ill, for one thing ; and frighten her mother out 
 of her bad temper. Then I want you to go to 
 Lord Amesleigh and offer to take up one of his 
 companies for him " 
 
 " I never impart sentiment into business," 
 the financier said, curtly. 
 
 " But this once ! " his wife said. " He has 
 always got a dozen projects on hand, you say 
 yourself. Well, if you went to him and offered 
 him your aid, why, he'd just bow down before
 
 156 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 you. And you could be quite frank about it. 
 Tell liim plainly you were a friend of Mima's ; 
 yes, and of Percy, too ; and you wanted to see 
 the young people made happy ; and that the 
 way to bring that about would be for him, of 
 his own free-will, and without asking any 
 pledge from the other side, to block up that de- 
 testable window. Then leave the rest to me." 
 
 "I don't want to be mixed up with any of his 
 precious schemes," ^Ir. Meyer said, rather 
 peevishly. " Storage of electricity in steam- 
 ships — manufacture of boracic acid in Iceland — 
 a new kind of soda-water bottle ! Why is it 
 that impecunious noblemen don't know how to 
 sell the only thing they've got to sell — that is, 
 their name ? If they're young, they should go 
 to America and marry a petroleiise ; if they're 
 old, they should recommend a sherry. To- 
 morrow morning I'd give Lord Amesleigh 
 £5,000 for sitting down and writing a letter 
 of six or eight lines saying that the Fuente del 
 Maestre sherry, at thirty shillings a dozen, is 
 as fine in quality as any Amontillado he ever 
 tasted, and that henceforth he will have nothing 
 else at his own table " 
 
 " And will you do that, Philip ?" his wife said, 
 eagerly.
 
 A CONSPIRACY 157 
 
 He stared at her. 
 
 " Now do I look like the kind of person who 
 wants to start a sherry-importing company? 
 Is that your impression of the way in wliich I 
 earn my living ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not," she said, hastily ; 
 " but it sounded quite practical. And — and I 
 thought it might he good enough for Lord 
 Amesleigh." 
 
 " Grood enough to forward your dark and 
 nefarious plans, you mean," her husband said. 
 " Well, I will think over the matter. Let me 
 see, what am I to bargain for — that he should 
 block up the window in the side of his house ? 
 It isn't the way we ordinarily do business in 
 the city. ' My dear lord, — I am willing to float 
 your boracic acid company on condition that 
 you block up a window.' " 
 
 " But of course you wouldn't put it that 
 way ; you would lead up to it," she said ; and 
 then she added, w^ith adroit flattery, "and just 
 think how proud Lord Amesleigh will be to 
 have your name on a prospectus. It will give 
 him quite a different standing. I am sure he 
 will do anything you ask him." 
 
 " Oh, I must manage Mrs. Laxbourne ; and 
 that won't be nearly so easy, I am afraid."
 
 I §8 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 So matters remained for the mean time ; Mrs. 
 Meyer, satisfied with having gained his consent, 
 being too prudent a woman to press for imme- 
 diate results. She saw nothing further of Mima 
 Laxbourne ; she heard nothing further of Percy 
 Blount. That young man, indeed, spent most 
 of his leisure time in watching a certain window, 
 but, to his ever-increasing astonishment and 
 chagrin, he watched in vain. The telegraphic 
 signals had ceased. Once or twice his longing 
 imagination deceived him into thinking that the 
 postage-stamp was there ; then on going nearer 
 he would find the pane a meaningless blank. 
 And how was it that he never, by any chance, 
 met Miss Jimmie, or even caught a glimpse of 
 her ? Had her mother shut her up ? Or did 
 the young lady see that the coast was clear ere 
 coming out ? Why should she avoid him — why 
 not write a single line of comfort ? He had 
 sent her a brief note, imploring her to let him 
 have the smallest message of remembrance, but 
 there was no answer. 
 
 However, if she wished to avoid him, she 
 was caught at last. He was going up Bedford 
 Gardens, she was coming down Campden Hill 
 Road, and at the corner they ran full tilt 
 against each other. She looked very frightened,
 
 A CONSPIRACY 159 
 
 and would have passed on ; but lie caught he? 
 by the arm and detained her. 
 
 " Mima, where have you been ? Why didn't 
 you answer my note ? " 
 
 " I am not to speak to you, Percy," she said ; 
 and she made some feeble pretence of trying to 
 get away. 
 
 " But you've got to speak to me," said he, 
 boldly. " I'm not going to have any nonsense 
 now, Jimmie. We used to joke about playing 
 Eomeo and Juliet, while that confounded law- 
 suit was going on ; but I don't mean to have it 
 come about in earnest. Not a bit of it. I have 
 as much right to you as your mother has " 
 
 " You have no right to me at all, Percy," she 
 said ; but without much force of conviction. 
 
 " Haven't I ? Yes, I have. You belong to 
 me. I don't care if you had twenty mothers." 
 
 He had got hold of her hand by this time, 
 and felt through the glove that something was 
 missing. 
 
 " There's only one ring here," said he ; 
 " where is the other ?" 
 
 " I have taken it off, Percy," she said, with 
 downcast eyes. " I am to send it back to you, 
 with the fan and other things. And you must 
 give me the locket again, Percy."
 
 i6o ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " Oh, indeed ; who said so ? " 
 
 " Mamma. At least, she does not know it is 
 a locket ; but she said I was to get back any- 
 thing I may have given you." 
 
 " Well, look here, Jimmie, you're always 
 good-naturedly hinting to me that I'm not very 
 clever ; but at all events I'm not such an un- 
 mistakable ass as to give you back that locket ; 
 and you may tell your mamma as much, if she 
 is anxious for information." 
 
 " You need not sjoeak of mamma in that way, 
 Percy," the young lady said, as in duty bound. 
 " I consider your father to be quite as much to 
 blame for what has happened." 
 
 " I don't care a brass farthino^ who is to 
 blame. The question is. What is to be done 
 now ? Shall I come and see your mother and 
 try to pacify her ? I'm not a bit afraid." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no, Percy ; that would make 
 everything twenty times worse ! I'm not 
 allowed to mention your name, or your father's, 
 or anything connected with the lawsuit." She 
 looked up shyly. " And I shouldn't be talking 
 to you now." 
 
 " But you are talking to me, you see ; and 
 that's the difference betwixt you and a clam," 
 he said — whatever he meant by it. " And I
 
 A CONSPIRACY i6i 
 
 vvisli to impress on your young mind that there 
 is only one person who can release you from 
 the promise you made to me, and that is myself; 
 and that I don't in the least mean to do it. 
 Why, Jimmie, where is your courage ? Your 
 mother may be in a bad temper — it isn't the 
 first time. And your talking of sending back 
 those little presents, and asking me for mine — 
 why, I never heard of such nonsense." 
 
 This confident way of talking was no doubt 
 pleasant to hear ; still she shook her head. 
 
 " It's all very well for you, Percy. You are 
 a man ; and can do and say what you like. 
 But if you were a girl, and shut up at home, 
 and not allowed to speak " 
 
 " It serves you right," said he, bluntly. 
 " Why have you never put the postage-stamp 
 on the window ? " 
 
 "Because I am forbidden to see you." 
 
 "And what are you doing now ? " 
 
 " Oh, but this is an accident. I am not 
 responsible." 
 
 " Now listen to me, Jimmie," said he, " and 
 attend to words of wisdom. ]\Iy father and 
 your mother have chosen to go and make fools 
 of themselves ; but it would be very ill done of 
 us to encourage them in their folly. What you 
 
 M
 
 1 62 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 have to do is to pay no heed to it whatever. 
 That means, whenever you feel miserable or 
 dispirited, you stick that postage-stamp on the 
 pane, and come down to the Eound Pond, and 
 I'll meet you there and talk you into a common- 
 sense frame of mind. I tell you I won't allow 
 our engagement to be broken off — not a bit of 
 it. Why, what would you do ? Go in for one 
 of the charitable fads, I suppose — join a sister- 
 hood, and take to slumming — or be off to re- 
 generateWhitechapel by teaching costermongers 
 to waltz. Jimmie, Jimmie, that's not your 
 line. 
 
 Just at this moment a victoria came along ; 
 and the sole occupant of it, a lady, regarded 
 these two with arch eyes. The young man 
 instantly whipped off his hat ; his companion, 
 with a little bow of recognition to the lady in 
 the carriage, and a hurried " Good-bye, Percy," 
 went quickly on her way. But the new-comer, 
 seeing that she had thus unwittingly broken 
 in upon their interview, bade her coachman 
 turn and drive back; and in a couple of 
 minutes she had overtaken Miss Laxbourne. 
 
 " Mima ! " she called. 
 
 Tlie girl stopped, and Mrs. Mej^er stepped 
 out of the victoria on to the pavement.
 
 A CONSPIRACY 163 
 
 " I am awfully sorry," said she. " I didn't 
 mean to be a spy on you, Mima, dear." 
 
 " I assure yon, I assure you, it was quite an 
 accident," the girl said, anxiously. " I had no 
 idea of meeting him." 
 
 But here Mr. Percy Blount put in an appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " What's the good of running off like that, 
 Mima?" said he, for he had hesitated during 
 a second or two as to whether he should follow 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, you go away, Percy," Mrs. Meyer said, 
 quite good-naturedly. " I want to talk to Mima 
 by herself; I have something important to say 
 to her." 
 
 "I can't go away, Mrs. Meyer," said he, 
 " until I have some definite assurance from 
 Mima. Why, she is allowing her mother to 
 think that our engagement is broken off! Did 
 jou ever hear anything so absurd as that — all 
 over a wretched lawsuit that neither Mima nor 
 I have anything to do with ? " 
 
 " But I think I see a way to put everything 
 straight," Mrs. IMeyer said. " At least, I hope 
 it will be so. Now say good-bye, and go away." 
 
 He could not further disobey; and all he said 
 in going was— 
 
 M 2
 
 i64 ROMEO AND "JULIET 
 
 "Now remember, Jimmie, there is only one 
 person who can release you from your promise 
 to me ; and you never will be released." 
 
 When he had gone, Mrs. Meyer turned to 
 her companion. 
 
 "Now, Mima," she said, "you know I am 
 very fond of both Percy and you, and I want 
 to see you happy together ; and I want to 
 bring all this wretched quarrelling to an end. 
 Not only that, but I think I see my way — only 
 I must have your help." 
 
 The girl looked up inquiringly. 
 
 " You have got to fall ill." 
 
 She still looked puzzled. 
 
 " Yes ; there's nothing else for it," Mrs. 
 Meyer continued. " You see, there are two 
 sides to the quarrel. Very well. My husband 
 is pretty confident of being able to bring Lord 
 Amesleigh to reason. Supposing that Lord 
 Amesleigh were to consent to shutting up that 
 window — without any bargain^ or without even 
 any notice — wouldn't that be a great con- 
 cession '2" 
 
 "It would be a very, very great concession," 
 Miss Laxbourne said, but rather wistfully, for 
 the possibility seemed far distant. 
 
 " Supposing, then, that we can get Lord
 
 A CONSPIRACY i65 
 
 Amesleigh to yield so much, what is to induce 
 your mamma to yield on her side ? Your fall- 
 ing ill, as I say. You can easily do it — enough 
 to make her anxious about you. You are not 
 looking very well as it is, Mima, dear ; and you 
 can easily put on the rest. Take to your bed, 
 pretend you can't eat ; a little crying now and 
 again would be effective ; and then, when your 
 mother is really alarmed about you, I will call 
 and bring friendly messages from Lord Ames- 
 leigh. Do you see ? " 
 
 *' Mamma won't believe in any more friendly 
 messages," Miss Laxbourne said, shaking her 
 head. 
 
 " Won't she ? Leave that to me. Now do 
 you think you can become an interesting in- 
 valid, Mima, dear ? " 
 
 " Without being really ill ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 The girl paused for a second. 
 
 " It would be no use trying," she said, with 
 a hopeless air. " Nothing would be of any use 
 now. I have never seen mamma so determined. 
 It's all very well for Percy to make light of it, 
 and say that everything must come right, and 
 people listen to reason. But there is no reason 
 nor argument in the matter. It is silence, and
 
 i66 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 a fixed determination. "What you propose 
 would be of no use." 
 
 " I tell you it would, though — every use in 
 the world/' her friend said, distinctly. " Now, 
 do as I bid you ; it only means a little starva- 
 tion ; and you can read novels all day long. 
 I must hurry away now, Mima, for I have some 
 people coming this afternoon ; but mind you do 
 what I tell you, and get very, very ill indeed. 
 Good-bye, dear." 
 
 Then they went their several ways — Mrs. 
 Meyer nothing doubting of the success of her 
 scheme. 
 
 And now Mr. Percy Blount had restored to 
 him the hope of finding the postage-stamp on 
 the window-pane ; and each morning as he 
 went out he glanced up at the front of Mrs. 
 Laxbourne's dwelling. Alas ! it was a far 
 different message that those windows were 
 destined to convey to liim. One day he was 
 startled to find that tliey were all shrouded 
 in brown holland. The family had gone away, 
 then ? — and for a lengthened time ? And 
 whither ? To what far land was poor Jimmie 
 being dragged, without being allowed to leave 
 behind her one tearful word of farewell ? "
 
 ''WELL COUNTERFEITED' 167 
 
 CHAPTER yil. 
 
 ** WELL COUNTERFEITED. 
 
 There were three persons in this railway- 
 carriage — Mrs. Meyer, her sister-in-law (an 
 elderly maiden lady), and Mr. Percy Blonnt. 
 
 " It is so many years since I was at Torquay," 
 Mrs. Meyer was saying, " that I suppose it will 
 be quite altered now. Indeed, I don't remember 
 much about it, except the terraces on the hill- 
 side, and the villas with the queer names, and 
 the beautiful bay. I do remember, though, 
 there was an hotel a little bit beyond the town 
 • — on a small promontory, and overlooking the 
 sea, and with a pretty garden : if that is still 
 in existence, I think we should go there. It 
 is away from the chemists' shops, you see. I 
 don't like the look of so many chemists' shops 
 in a place." 
 
 Presently she said — • 
 
 "I hope Mima has been doing what I told her.' 
 
 " She hasn't been doing what I told her," 
 Percy Blount said. " I haven't had a scrap 
 of a message from her, of any kind whatever, 
 since they went away."
 
 i68 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " Because she is a properly conducted young 
 lady," her friend said, promptly, " and gives 
 obedience where it is due. You must wait till 
 the law gives you authority over her." 
 
 "The law?" said he. "It is the law that 
 has been the cause of all this mischief." 
 
 " Then wait till the Church gives you au- 
 thority over her." 
 
 " Whatever happens," said he, " it is awfully 
 good of you to take so much trouble." 
 
 "My dear young man," said she, coolly, "a 
 fortnight at the seaside never comes amiss to 
 me, especially at this time of the year. Then 
 Philip will be down from Friday till Monday ; 
 and that will do him a world of good — though 
 the railway journey is so tedious. Besides, 
 Mima is my friend ; I am really anxious to see 
 her, for I don't think she is likely to be over- 
 happy as matters stand at present." 
 
 "When, in the course of the afternoon, they 
 arrived at Torquay, and had succeeded in 
 getting rooms at a pleasantly-situated hotel, the 
 two ladies turned Percy Blount adrift to shift 
 for himself, and set off in quest of a certain 
 villa. They found it without much difficulty, 
 and were admitted, the parlour-maid who 
 showed them into the drawing-room explaining
 
 '' WELL COUNTERFEITED'' 169 
 
 that Mrs. Laxbourne was at the moment engaged 
 with her dressmaker, but would come to see 
 them shortly. 
 
 Mrs. Meyer went to the window, as one 
 naturally does at the seaside ; the next moment 
 she was calling to her sister-in-law. 
 
 " Come here, Bella, quick ! Did you ever see 
 the like of this ? Look at that young minx ! " 
 
 Miss Meyer went to the window instantly ; 
 and there, in the small terraced garden below, 
 she saw Miss Jimmie, whom she knew very 
 well, being slowly wheeled along in a Bath 
 chair, in the warm evening light. 
 
 " She is doing it thoroughly," Mrs. Meyer 
 said, with a laugh. " The artful hussy ! She 
 really looks quite thin. I wonder if she starves 
 herself too ? " 
 
 " She looks very ill," said Miss Meyer, 
 gravely. 
 
 " Yes, of course she does. She was told to 
 look ill. But just wait a moment, and I'll show 
 you what kind of an invalid she is — if there's 
 time before the mamma comes." 
 
 She tapped on the window. Miss Laxbourne 
 looked up, said something to the old man who 
 was drawing the Bath chair, and then they 
 made for the house.
 
 I70 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 "I wish slie would look sharp," said Mrs. 
 Meyer, as there seemed to be a little delay in 
 her making her appearance, " or her mamma 
 will be here." 
 
 That instant the door opened, and the invalid 
 appeared. She looked very pale and wan and 
 fragile ; and she was assisted across the room to 
 the sofa by the old man and the parlour-maid, 
 one on each side. Miss Jimmie held out her 
 hand in rather a feeble fashion; and Mrs. 
 Meyer took it and held it, as in duty bound ; 
 but the truth was that she had been startled, 
 and was inclined to be angry. 
 
 " Mima," said she, reproachfully, as soon as 
 these two had gone, " you needn't overdo it. 
 Remember, you are only pretending illness. I 
 declare you quite frightened me ! " 
 
 For answer the round blue eyes grew moist 
 with tears. 
 
 " I have not been quite so strong lately, dear 
 Mrs. Meyer," she said, in a voice that was 
 excellently well counterfeited, so like an in- 
 valid's it was. 
 
 " Mima, you're not really ill ! " Mrs. Meyer 
 exclaimed, in great alarm. She caught both 
 the girl's hands in hers, and looked earnestly 
 into her eyes.
 
 " WELL CO UNTERFEITED " 171 
 
 " I have not been quite so well," was the 
 timid admission. 
 
 " Oh, this is dreadful ! " her friend cried. 
 " But never mind : it will be all right. I have 
 come to put it all right — and Percy is with 
 me " 
 
 " What did you say ? " the girl asked, quickly, 
 and her eyes seemed half- frightened. 
 
 " Only that Percy has come with me, Mimn, 
 dear — oh, yes, he is in this town — now — at this 
 very minute " 
 
 Paler Miss Jimraie could not become ; but the 
 effect of this sudden announcement was to rob 
 her of her little remaining strength ; and she 
 sank back helplessly on the sofa, her head 
 falling to one side. Evidently, this was no pre- 
 tence. She was on the verge of a fainting fit. 
 
 " Bella, some water, quick ! " 
 
 There was a jug of flowers on the table. 
 Miss Meyer whipped out the flowers, dipped 
 her handkerchief in the water, and hastened 
 to the sofa. They were thus engaged in re- 
 storing the girl to consciousness when her 
 mother entered — radiant, self-confident, and 
 profuse with apologies for having kept them 
 waiting such an unconscionable time. 
 
 "I had no idea Mima was so poorly," Mrs.
 
 172 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 Meyer said, when the girl was at length sitting 
 np again. " What is the matter ? " 
 
 " There is nothing at all the matter," her 
 mother answered, " except that she won't 
 interest herself in anything. I really think 
 she has just allowed herself to drift into this 
 state through not caring. It is very absurd, of 
 course — a girl to be so weak and listless without 
 having anything the matter with her at all. 
 But I dare say she has found this place dull. 
 As soon as she gets a little better we shall 
 go somewhere else, probably to the Continent. 
 Vienna always seemed to me the most cheerful 
 town to live in of any I know." 
 
 "Why not try London?" Mrs. Meyer suggested. 
 
 Mrs. Laxbourne froze instantly. 
 
 " We have no intention of returning to 
 London at present," she said. 
 
 "You would find some little alterations at 
 Campden Hill," Mrs. Meyer ventured to say. 
 And then, grown bolder, she continued, " It is 
 for poor Mima's sake, my dear Mrs. Laxbourne, 
 that I am anxious to talk to you about that — 
 that unhappy lawsuit " 
 
 " I would rather hear nothing further about 
 it, if you please," the widow said, stiffly. 
 
 " Yes ; but for Mima's sake you will listen, 
 won't you?" the mediator pleaded.
 
 ''WELL COUNTERPEttED'^ I73 
 
 *' 1 don't see how Mima has anything whatever 
 to do with it," was the unpromising* answer. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Meyer, with a little hesita- 
 tion, " I — I don't suppose it can be pleasant 
 for her to know that the two families have 
 quarrelled, and that she has been taken away 
 and not allowed to communicate with Percy. 
 But let me to tell you what has happened, Mrs. 
 Laxbourne. Lord Amesleigh has behaved in 
 the most handsome manner. If it is any grati- 
 fication to you to know, you are left complete 
 victor. Of course you were already aware that 
 he had all the costs to pay — and heavy costs, 
 too. Besides that, you were left free to build 
 the greenhouse, if you wished. But now do 
 you know what he has done ? Of his own free 
 will he has gone and built up the window in the 
 side of his house ; and I think I have the right 
 to ask you if that is not a handsome act, and a 
 frank offer of conciliation ? " 
 
 Mrs. Meyer wore a triumphant air, and no 
 wonder ; for it was with a good deal of difficulty 
 that she had induced her husband to inter- 
 meddle in any way whatever with Lord Ames- 
 leigh's affairs. But Mrs. Laxbourne was 
 suspicious. 
 
 " They may have told you so -"
 
 174 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Laxbourne, I saw it ! " the 
 other interposed. " I give you my word of 
 honour that the window is actuUy built up — I 
 saw it with my own eyes ! " 
 
 " And you have come to ask rae to do some- 
 thing in return ? " the widow asked, still dis- 
 trustful. 
 
 " No ; I have no commission of the kind. As 
 I say, this has been done by Lord Amesleigh of 
 his own free will, and there is no condition 
 attached. But if you ask me to name some- 
 thing, I can ; and it is a request of a very 
 simple character. Mrs. Laxbourne, will you 
 and Mima come and dine with us at our hotel 
 this evening — Percy will be there ? " 
 
 She was sitting on the sofa beside Miss 
 Jimmie, holding a poor, thin, wasted hand in 
 hers. 
 
 " Look," said she, " won't that plead with 
 you ? " 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, the widow said, 
 
 "Oh, well, I have no objection to meeting 
 Mr. Blount ; of course he will apologise for the 
 foolish stories he told " 
 
 "Oh, certainly, certainly ! I know he is 
 most anxious to do so," Mrs. Meyer exclaimed, 
 although, as a matter of fact, Mr. Percy Blount
 
 ''WELL COUNTERFEITED'' 175 
 
 had never offered to do anything of the kind — 
 not seeing his way to the opportunity. 
 
 " But I am afraid Mima can't go out to 
 dinner," continued the widow, who appeared to 
 be greatly mollified by this news of her having 
 been left completely mistress of the field. 
 *' Won't you come and dine with us ? " 
 
 " To-night ? " 
 
 " Yes, if is is convenient." 
 
 " And bring Percy ? " 
 
 " Yes, if he won't mind so unceremonious au 
 invitation." 
 
 " I think I can answer for that," said Mrs. 
 Meyer 
 
 They remained a little while longer, and tlien 
 they left ; and they had not gone very far when 
 they encountered Mr. Blount, who had been 
 prospecting around. 
 
 " Now, my dear Percy," said the young 
 matron, in her business-like way, " I am going 
 to show you the advantages of speaking the 
 truth. You tried to patch up this affair by 
 telling a lot of lies, as I understand it, and the 
 result was to make the quarrel worse confounded 
 than ever. I interfere, and tell the simple 
 truth. What is the consequence ? Why, that 
 you are invited to dine with Mrs. Laxbourne 
 and Mima this very evening ! "
 
 1/6 ROMEO /LXD JULIET 
 
 " You don't mean that ! " he said. 
 
 " This very evening as ever was. Seven* 
 forty-five ; and they were so considerate as to 
 say you needn't mind about evening dress — • 
 especially if you hadn't any with you." 
 
 " But how did you manage it ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " The truth — the simple truth — works won- 
 ders," she said, oracularly. " Then I have 
 been a little longer in the world than you, 
 though not much." 
 
 Furthermore, she had to caution him not to 
 show any surprise or alarm when he should 
 find Miss Jimmie looking sadly thin and white. 
 
 " If I weren't quite sure of the cause, I should 
 be really anxious about her," Mrs. Meyer con- 
 tinued. " But I know what it is well enough- 
 absence and heart-ache. Poor thing, when I 
 told her to go away and get ill ; I had no idea it 
 was about to happen in earnest. But I* will 
 never give any girl that advice again. The 
 fright I got when I saw her just now ! How- 
 ever, it is for you, Mr. Percy, to bring back the 
 roses to her cheeks. I have done all I could for 
 the pair of you." 
 
 " And you don't think we are ungrateful, 
 Mrs. Meyer ? " said he, speaking quite naturally 
 for both Mima and himself.
 
 '' WELL COUNTERFEITED'' 177 
 
 That evening, when the invited guests went 
 to the house, Miss Jimmie looked much less like 
 an invalid, for 
 
 Eosy-red grew she when Glenogie sate down ; 
 and even thereafter, when her natural pallor 
 had again asserted itself, there was still the 
 little excitement arising from this unwonted 
 festivity ; and obvious to all was the subdued, 
 pleased light in the pretty blue eyes. Mr. 
 Percy got through the apologies which Mrs. 
 Meyer had directed him to make with sufficient 
 cleverness ; the widow was quite gracious, in 
 her grand fashion ; and nothing was said about 
 the Court of Appeal or the senile imbecility of 
 English judges. 
 
 During the course of the evening, however, 
 Mrs. Me3^er took occasion to have a little private 
 talk with Mrs. Laxbourne. 
 
 " Now won't you be generous ? " said the 
 diplomatist. " You have had everything your 
 own way, in Court and out of it. I want you 
 to yield one point. Won't you give up your 
 idea of building an additional greenhouse ? " 
 
 But instantly the widow drew back, and 
 regarded her visitor with watchful eyes. 
 
 " Was Lord Amesleigh told I would do that 
 before he blocked up the window ? " she asked. 
 
 N
 
 178 ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 " Indeed he was not ! " Mrs. Meyer answered, 
 honestly enough. " I can positively assure you 
 of that. He doesn't expect you to do anything 
 whatever — not anything whatever ; but seeing 
 that you have got everything your own way, I 
 think you might afiford to be generous. For 
 Mima's sake," Mrs. Meyer added. 
 
 " I never was so very anxious to have that 
 greenhouse," Mrs. Laxbourne confessed, after a 
 second. 
 
 " And you will promise to think no more 
 about it — yes, now, you must, Mrs. Laxbourne 
 — for Mima's sake ? " 
 
 " Yery well, I do make the promise," she 
 said, good-naturedly. 
 
 " That's all right, then. And you will find 
 that Lord Amesleigh will not be slow to acknow- 
 ledge that you have acted very handsomely and 
 generously in the matter. I am quite sure of 
 that. Little courtesies of that kind are so much 
 appreciated when they come unsolicited — just 
 as he has built up that window without even 
 telling you he was going to do it, or asking you 
 to regard it as a favour. I am sure he will 
 very highly appreciate your saying that you 
 won't build the greenhouse ; and surely, for 
 poor Mima's sake — look at her, how pleased and
 
 ''WELL COUNTERFEITED'' 179 
 
 happy she seems ! — for her sake it is better 
 you should all be friends. Then, as to "Vienna," 
 continued this insidious person, " do you think 
 it is such a very healthy city. Not very healthy, 
 is it ? My recollection of it is that the smaller 
 river — what's its name ? — is pretty much of a 
 ditch." 
 
 " I like the driving in the Prater," said Mrs. 
 Laxbourne, but with no great conviction. 
 " And the music of the military bands is really 
 beautiful." 
 
 "Yes, that is so, perhaps," responded Mrs. 
 Meyer, rather absently. " Of course, you 
 couldn't expect to have as many friends there 
 as in London. And Mima seems to want 
 rousing up a little, doesn't she ? I do think 
 your house is so conveniently situated — one 
 never hears people grumbling about the dis- 
 tance — and then it is so prettily situated, and 
 the neighbourhood so cheerful. Don't you 
 think Mima would rather be in her own com- 
 fortable home, and seeing people a little ? " 
 
 " Yes, perhaps," Mrs. Laxbourne admitted. 
 " I only mentioned Vienna by — by accident, as 
 it were." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Laxbourne, suppose you and 
 IMima go back with us ! Do ! Take her to her 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o ROMEO AND JULIET 
 
 own pretty home, and make it cheerful for her ; 
 and ask her friends to come and see her. 
 Wouldn't that be wise ? Look at her this 
 minute ; why, she is quite a different creature 
 from the white-faced thing we saw this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Mrs. Laxbourne did not yield all at once, but 
 in the end she did yield completely ; and so 
 what was dangerously nigh becoming a tragedy 
 was changed into comedy by the artifices and 
 contrivances of this wily woman. 
 
 The Laxbournes returned to London; a formal 
 peace was concluded between the two families ; 
 the engagement of the young people was openly 
 recognised ; and Miss Jimmie throve and pros- 
 pered in the sunshine of her new happiness, 
 until she showed herself as healthy a lass as 
 any you can find at this moment in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Campden Hill. Only, as Mrs. 
 Meyer sometimes says to her, 
 
 " Things have turned out very nicely, you 
 know, my dear ; and we're all coming to the 
 wedding ; and you'll look as pretty as pretty 
 can be. But don't forget that you gave me a 
 fright. AVhen I told you to go away and pre- 
 tend to be an invalid, I had no idea you would 
 do your counterfeiting just a little too well,"
 
 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 PICTOR laXOTUS. 
 
 It was on a wild March morning tliat a young" 
 English stranger left the snug shelter of the inu 
 at Inver-mudal and adventured forth into the 
 wintry landscape that lay all around. He was 
 accompanied by two stalwart gillies^ who carried 
 his angling gear for him ; for this intrepid 
 young man, notwithstanding the weather, was 
 bent upon trolling for salmon on Loch Naver. 
 ■\Yhat else, indeed, could he do ? By profession 
 a landscape painter, he had come into these 
 wilds with some notion of making a series 
 of studies of early spring ; but he had found the 
 whole country clad in a monotonous garment of 
 snow ; subjects there were none ; so, being 
 something of a fisherman as well, and having
 
 1 82 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 fortunately brought his rods and tackle with 
 him, he thought he could not do better than go 
 after the salmon until nature should choose to 
 reappear from under her shroud of white. 
 
 How could he have painted in this weather ? 
 The air was filled with driving sleet ; a bitterly 
 cold wind was blowing down from the hills and 
 along the strath ; it seemed to him, as he trudged 
 through the thick, soft-yielding snow, that very 
 soon he would be choked, blinded, and benumbed 
 all at once. No doubt the scene around him, 
 even as he saw it through this veil of sleet, was 
 impressive enough — the white, hushed moor- 
 lands leading away up to the solitary ghost-like 
 shoulders and peaks of Ben Loyal ; the long 
 loch before him driven into a livid blackness, 
 save for certain jDatches of blue-grey near the 
 shore which he guessed to be ice ; then above 
 him, stretching far into the moving mists, rose 
 the giant bulk of Ben Clebrig, the cloud-com- 
 peller and brewer of gales and hurricanes. It 
 was an impressive sight, no doubt, but to him 
 it was useless. Nay, as he tramped along this 
 highway, he began to say to himself that snow 
 was the very ugliest thing in nature — or, at 
 least, that it made everything else look mean 
 and dirty and depressing. The water down
 
 PICT OR IGNOTUS 183 
 
 there was black ; the stems of the trees blown 
 bare by the wind were black ; any bit of 
 exposed rock was a blot in the landscape ; even 
 the russet scars of the moorland, showing here 
 and there through the driven snow, had no 
 grateful warmth of colour in them. It was all 
 unpaintable, unusable, a disappointment to a 
 pair of eyes that were accustomed to seek 
 eagerly and lovingly for the beautiful aspects 
 of the world. 
 
 However, here was the salmon-fishing. They 
 got away down to the side of the loch ; and 
 while the gillies brushed the snow from the 
 seats of the boat, and broke the ice in the 
 bottom, he began to get together his tackle as 
 well as his benumbed fingers would allow. 
 Then, when everything was ready, they shoved 
 the boat some way through the ice ; they all 
 got in ; they shoved her still further and further 
 through, until at last they reached open water, 
 and now Mr. Sydney Durham proceeded to get 
 out his lines. These moments, as every salmon- 
 fisher knows, are moments of blessedness. All 
 unknown as yet are the long hours of waiting, 
 the growing hopelessness and apathy, the joy- 
 less trudge home in the evening : when the 
 phantom minnows are dropped into the water,
 
 1 8+ A SNOIV IDYLL 
 
 when the thirty yards of line have been paid 
 out, when the fisherman settles down to watch 
 the points of the two rods, his imagination 
 peoples the loch with eager-roaming salmon, 
 and he knows that any passing second may be 
 succeeded by a sudden whirr and shriek of the 
 reel. Our young artist forgot all about the 
 colourlessness of the landscape around him. 
 The water might be like ink — he called not, if it 
 held fish. And so the two gillies slowly pulled 
 the boat along these winding shores, the while 
 his eyes were intently fixed on the surface of 
 the loch, watching for the swift springing into 
 the air of a twenty-pounder — or even a ten — 
 that would reward him, and more than reward 
 him, for all his pains. 
 
 For it was bitterly cold. The wind blew 
 down from Clebrig's snow-sloj)es and swept 
 across the loch ; swirls of sleet swung round 
 him, half blinding him and getting in at neck 
 and wrist ; his hands were soaking wet through 
 the woollen gloves ; his feet were stone dead. 
 And still the two gillies patiently explored 
 every bay and crept round each successive 
 headland ; and not a sound broke the silence of 
 this hushed white world. As time went by his 
 eager hopes departed one by one. Absently he
 
 PIC TOR IGNOTUS 185 
 
 began to regard the features of the landscape — 
 the indented bays, the birch woods, the wide 
 moorlands, the far peaks and shoulders of the 
 hills ; and perhaps he may have asked himself 
 what he should do in this remote neighbourhood 
 if it turned out that neither painting nor fishing- 
 were possible as an occupation. Another fancy 
 may have struck him. It should have been 
 said that three objects, and not two, had brought 
 him to Inver-mudal. In town, Sydney Durham 
 was an exceedingly sociable person and an 
 excellent companion (at the Arts Club, no one 
 but the hall-porter ever thought of calling him 
 anything but Sydney), but from time to time a 
 craving for absolute solitude would come over 
 him, and he would go away and hide himself in 
 some distant and lonely place, passing the time 
 there no one knew how. It was partly on this 
 account that he had come to Inver-mudal, the 
 seclusion of which in winter-time was well 
 known to him ; so it is to be imagined that 
 wlien, on his arrival, he was informed that a 
 lady and gentleman were expected on the very 
 next day, and moreover that they had bespoken 
 the private sitting-room that usually fell to his 
 share — he was none too well pleased. And now 
 in this boat, as the slow hours went by, and as
 
 1 86 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 he became frozen to misery point, witli never 
 a single salmon showing a sign, he may with 
 some cause have complained of his evil fortune. 
 He had come to Inver-mudal with three objects 
 in view — landscape-painting, salmon-fishing, and 
 solitude — and it seemed as if he were not to 
 secure any one of them ! And what right had 
 these strangers to come and occupy his particular 
 room ? 
 
 " Look here, Duncan," he said, turning round 
 from the useless rods, and addressing one of the 
 gillies, " have those people who are coming 
 here to-day ever been at Inver-mudal before ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir," responded Duncan, "they 
 were here the last summer for two or three 
 weeks." 
 
 " But what's the use of a woman coming up 
 here just now?" he said, rather petulantly. 
 " Is she going to come out fishing in weather 
 like this ? The man must be mad to bring his 
 wife to such a place at this time of the year ! " 
 
 " It's his dochter, sir," said Duncan. 
 
 " Well, that's worse ! How is a girl likely to 
 stand this kind of thing ? " 
 
 Duncan did not know, so Duncan did not 
 answer. The young artist turned to his rods 
 again, and the boat went on in silence.
 
 PICT OR IGNOTUS 187 
 
 At limch-time they shoved the hoat through 
 the ice and got ashore, while Sydney Durham 
 walked along to a large rock where he expected 
 to find some shelter. Alas ! when he began to 
 undo the little parcel with his frozen fingers, 
 he found that the wind was coming in fierce 
 swirls, and novv^here could he get away from 
 those blasts of sleet. So there was nothing for 
 it but to stand about in the wet, and kick his 
 toes on the stones, and eat the moist cold 
 mutton and still moister bread. Thereafter 
 a pipe consoled him somewhat ; then they all 
 three got into the boat again, and resumed 
 their slow and unprofitable labour. 
 
 In the afternoon, however, this dull apathy 
 was suddenly broken in upon. While he was 
 thinking of far other matters, a violent shaking 
 of the rod — a long, wild scream of the reel — a 
 flash into the air some fifty yards away — all 
 these things seemed to happen at once ; and 
 the next moment he found himself standing up 
 in the boat, the rod in his left hand, the frozen 
 fiugers of the right trying to reel in the line 
 rapidly, for the salmon was coming quietly 
 towards him. Quietly — but only for a second 
 or two : he changed his tactics — plunged with 
 a sudden jerk, and lay deep in the water
 
 i88 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 tugging and tugging — then he yielded a little 
 — again he was off with a long shriek from the 
 reel — presently he was on the surface, lashing 
 with head and tail, a fearful sight to see ! 
 
 "He's a wicked heast, that," said Duncan, as 
 the fish again disappeared and plunged away 
 down into unknown deeps. 
 
 " There's no mistake about his being a clean 
 salmon any way," the fisherman said, as he 
 anxiously waited for the next movement of his 
 invisible foe. " Tliere's nothing of the kelt 
 about a fellow who can fight like that." 
 
 " Oh, he's a clean fish, sir, sure enough," the 
 tall gillie said, " ay, and a good fish too. I'm 
 thinking he'll be twelve pounds whatever." 
 
 The salmon lay deep down and sulked. It 
 was a treacherous calm, and not to be trusted. 
 Durham was quite certain that his enemy 
 meditated something desperate after this 
 temporary rest, and anxiously he watched 
 the line, and nervously he scanned the water. 
 All of a sudden there was a slackening that 
 sent his heart to his mouth, for he made sure 
 the fish had dropped off; but a rapid reeling 
 in told him that he was still there, though 
 continuino- to come to the surface. And then 
 away went this splendid creature with a mighty
 
 PICTOR JGNOTUS 189 
 
 rush, tearing the water with the line ; and again 
 he sprang into the air ; and again he fell on the 
 surface with a crash; and again he plunged 
 below, and tugged and shook to get rid of 
 this dire thing that he had snapped at in an 
 unguarded moment. But these various per- 
 formances were clearly exhausting his strength. 
 By-and-by there were no more rushes and leaps 
 into the air. He was coming nearer to the 
 surface. The fisherman felt he had the mastery 
 now ; the pliant rod kept on its equal strain ; 
 now and again they caught a glimmer of the 
 salmon, slowly moving, and not more than 
 twenty yards off. Cautiously the boat was 
 backed down on him ; the line was reeled well 
 in ; then a steady strain was put on the yield- 
 ing fish, and Peter, the other gillie, came down 
 into the stern of the boat, with the bright steel 
 clip in his hand. The fateful climax was ap- 
 proaching, and it cannot be doubted that the 
 artist-fisherman was exceedingly nervous and 
 breathless, for the first salmon of the season 
 is an important kind of creature. Nearer and 
 nearer the big fish was raised to the surface 
 of the water, though he was now aware of his 
 danger, and kept swerving away as much as 
 he was able. More than once Peter put out
 
 I go A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 the jraff to see if lie could not reach him. Inch 
 by inch Duncan kept backing the boat. 
 " Now, Peter, you'll have him this time ! " 
 Peter, with one hand on the gunwale, 
 stretched out the gaff with the other, and 
 watched for the slow-moving fish to come 
 under it. At the same moment — could they 
 credit their eyes ? — was such a thing possible ? 
 — the phantom minnow lost its hold and sprang 
 into the air — the salmon, just out of reach, hung 
 in the water for a second or so — then it seemed 
 to feel that it was longer a captive, and the next 
 instant it had sunk out of sight and was seen no 
 more. 
 
 For several seconds not one of the three men 
 spoke — the gillies were too awe-stricken by such 
 a catastrophe ; the fisherman, with affected 
 resignation, merely got in the phantom- 
 minnow to see that the hooks were uninjured. 
 But presently, when he found that the men 
 were pulling back to the fishing ground, he 
 bade them alter their course ; he was going 
 home. It was altogether too wet, and cold, 
 and miserable, he said ; they had had their 
 chance and lost it ; the afternoon was wearing 
 on ; he would try some other day in better 
 weather. So they rowed him in to the land ;
 
 PIC TOR IGNOTUS 191 
 
 he left tliem to get the tackle together ; and 
 then he set out for the inn, through an after- 
 noon that was prematurely darkened by the 
 soft-falling snow. 
 
 When, later on in the evening, Sydney 
 Durham, having got into a dry costume, came 
 down to the small public-room of the hotel, 
 which had been assigned to him in lieu of the 
 sitting-room from which he had been dis- 
 possessed, he found covers laid for three, lie 
 was not in the very best of humours. He had 
 lost the only fish he had seen as yet, and he 
 had been shunted out of his sitting-room by 
 two strangers. Moreover, would he not have 
 their society thrust upon him morning, noon, 
 and night ? Even if he escaped from them 
 during the day, and got away upon the loch, 
 would not they be bawling to him as the 
 boats crossed, and disturbing his observation of 
 landscape effects or his wandering reveries ? 
 Accordingly, when the soup had been placed on 
 the table, and when he heard footsteps in the 
 passage without, he was not at all grateful that 
 he should have found neighbours in this remote 
 and lonely spot, and he was not prepared to 
 accord them a very enthusiastic welcome. 
 No doubt they were a couple of discontented
 
 192 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 English tourists grumbling at everything they 
 met, wondering why they had ever come to 
 such a place, and ridiculing everything not in 
 consonance with their own habits and circum- 
 stances in the south. No doubt they w^ere 
 
 But here the door was opened, and a short, 
 stout, elderly gentleman made his appearance, 
 holding the handle of the door until his daugh- 
 ter had passed into the room. Now a young 
 man's resentment very speedily vanishes, when 
 he finds the shy and modest eyes of a pretty 
 young lady regarding him, and that in no 
 unfriendly fashion. Even the papa — with his 
 wholesome pink and white complexion, his clear 
 blue eyes, and grizzled hair and short grey 
 whiskers — seemed a pleasant-looking person ; 
 while, as for the daughter, Sydney's first 
 swift glimpse of her rather startled him : this 
 was not quite the kind of tourist he had ex- 
 pected. The two strangers bowed ; ^Ir. Sydney 
 Durham bowed. No names were mentioned ; 
 but all of them were aware that each knew the 
 other's name, through the intervention of the 
 Highland servant-lass Nelly. ]\Ir. Hague took 
 the head of the table ; his daua-hter sat on his 
 right hand ; and the artist-fisherman accordingly 
 found himself sitting opposite the young lady.
 
 PICTOR IGNOTUS 193 
 
 At first, of course, the conversation was con- 
 fined to the weather, and to the perils the two 
 travellers had encountered in driving from 
 Lairg, for several times their carriage had had 
 to leave the highway on account of the deep 
 snow-drifts. But by-and-by the talk became 
 more friendly and personal ; and the young- 
 lady's papa (what an important position to 
 hold!) was quite frankly communicative about 
 himself, about herself, and their bygone ex- 
 periences and their present plans. As for 
 Sydney Durham, under the benign influence 
 of those soft grey-blue eyes that glanced across 
 the table towards him from time to time — and 
 always with a kind of pleased, sympathetic, 
 and interested expression in them — he was 
 cordiality itself. He gave splendid accounts 
 of the salmon he had caught in Loch Naver, 
 even in the wildest weather. He talked enthu- 
 siastically of the grandeur of the scenery; and 
 of the difference between the Highlands now 
 and during the autumn season, when the 
 mosquito-tourist buzzes everywhere abroad. 
 These two were no longer tourists in his eyes. 
 No, no ; they were valuable human beings, 
 whose companionship in these solitary wilds 
 would produce many a snug and pleasant 
 
 o
 
 194 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 evening. He called on the willing Nelly to 
 heap more peats on the glowing fire ; the twin 
 lamps on the table burned brightly; and even 
 as he talked he knew, or felt, that the young 
 lady with the y)ale clear complexion and soft 
 chestnut-brown hair was reo:ardinQ; him with 
 those gentle, timid, friendly eyes — eyes, more- 
 over, that sometimes forgot their timidity and 
 glanced up with a quick, bright laugh, very 
 pleasant to see. He no longer resented the 
 coming of these strangers to Inver-mudal. 
 
 During the course of the evening, Durham 
 learned that this Mr. Has-ue was a Calcutta 
 merchant, who had just retired from business, 
 and who meditated setting up an establishment 
 of some state in London. But it was not 
 fashionable society tliat Mr. Hague wanted to 
 enter or to entertain. From sundry hints and 
 admissions the young artist came to the con- 
 clusion that this elderly gentleman was as am- 
 bitious as Mr. Gilead P. Beck himself to make 
 the acquaintance of distinguished persons ; 
 nay, he had been more fortunate than that 
 f:\mous worthy, for on one awful occasion he 
 had had speech of the Laureate. It was in a 
 railway carriage on the Portsmouth line, 
 Durham gathered. Whether Mr. Hague sud-
 
 PICT OR IGNOTUS 19S 
 
 den]y turned pale and trembled when lie found 
 who was sitting opposite him, will probably never 
 be known ; nor yet whether he tried to flee 
 from the carnage at the very next station ; for 
 he was unusually reticent about this notable 
 interview ; and, indeed, it may be suspected 
 that the conversation that took place between 
 the great poet and his humble adorer merely 
 related to the opening or shutting of a window. 
 At any rate, Mr. Hague admitted that he had 
 gone on to the Isle of Wight, and even hung 
 about the neighbourhood of Freshwater for a 
 few days ; alas ! in vain, for the acquaintance- 
 ship was not renewed. 
 
 But just imagine the old gentleman's joy 
 when Sydney Durham hinted that if Mr. Hague 
 began to purchase a series of pictures for this 
 big house he had set his mind on, it was quite 
 within the bounds of possibility that he might 
 be invited to the Academy dinner. 
 
 " The fact is, nobody is anybody in England 
 who hasn't been at least once to the Academy 
 Banquet," continued the young man. " It's a 
 distinction in itself — better than a bit of blue 
 ribbon. They say — of course, I don't know — 
 I'm an outsider, but they say that several 
 wealthy men keep on buying expensive pictures 
 
 2
 
 196 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 just that they may have their invitation to the 
 banquet renewed. Of course, the Academicians 
 are quite right in paying a compHment to men 
 who have the sense to buy the best of con- 
 temporary art, rather than spurious old masters 
 or copies. And the outsiders may talk as they 
 please, but the Academy does take in all the 
 painters who are worth anything — in lime, ol 
 course — a fellow must show what he can do — ■ 
 and sometimes prejudices are to be overcome, 
 but in the end the best men get in, un 
 doubtedly." 
 
 " I certainly looked forward to buying 
 pictures for my house." Mr. Hague interrupted, 
 somewhat eagerly. " Yes, yes ; what is a 
 house without pictures ? Not that I should set 
 myself up as a judge. I would rather have the 
 opinion of somebody who knew — and I should 
 want good pictures when I am about it." 
 
 ''Mightn't you ask Mr. Durham to advise 
 you, papa ? " Miss Anne Hague put in very 
 prettily, " if he would be so kind." 
 
 " Oh, I should be delighted ! " the young 
 man exclaimed. " The very thing I should 
 enjoy, if I can be of any use to you at all. Of 
 course, you can't get just exactly what you 
 want. I should like to be able to step into tho
 
 PICT OR IGNOTUS 197 
 
 open market, with an unlimited purse in m}' 
 pocket, and have a chance of buying up all my 
 favourite pictures for a gallery of my own. 
 Just think ! I would have Millais's ' Effie 
 Deans '■ — was there ever anything painted more 
 tragic and pathetic than that ? — and Leighton's 
 ' Slinger,' and Tadema's ' Sappho,' and Pettio's 
 ' Chieftain's Candlesticks,' and Orchardson's 
 * Queen of Swords,' and Watt's ' Sunrise,' and 
 Burne Jones's 'Mermaid/ and Boughton's 
 ' Waning of the Honeymoon,' and many another 
 tliat I can recall ; but of course that is im- 
 possible. The lucky people who have pictures 
 of that kind are not likely to part with them. 
 So, Mr. Hague, you would simply have to take 
 your chance ; and the first picture I should have, 
 if I were you, would be a portrait of Miss Hague 
 by Millais." 
 
 The young lady opposite him started a little, 
 but instantly lowered her eyes ; then this bold 
 young man continued, 
 
 *' Yes, I would ; there's no one can paint 
 women like Millais. Then I would have 
 examples of all the men I have mentioned, just 
 as I could get them, picking up one here and 
 there. You must have a Faed, of course — a 
 Highland subject, soft, rich colour, and beautiful
 
 198 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 light and shadow ; a MacWhirter, birches and 
 blue sky, perhaps, for you can't get ' Loch 
 Coruisk,' I know; a Peter G-raham— a hill-side 
 dappled with sun and shadow that makes you 
 think you can smell the bog-myrtle — then, for 
 change, one of Marcus Stone's courtship scenes 
 in an old-fashioned garden, with blue haze 
 under the trees — Briton Riviere might paint 
 you a replica of one of his moonlight scenes, 
 with green-eyed lions wandering over ruins — 
 my goodness ! there's one picture of his I 
 remember that is enough to make anybody 
 shiver, it is so lonely and eerie. Then you 
 must have a Colin Hunter — I should have six 
 if I could afford it ; for the longer I look at 
 water, either sea water or loch water, the more 
 I am convinced that no man, living or dead, 
 has ever painted it as Hunter ^can paint it, with 
 such a life and motion and o-lancino* of licrht — 
 
 tD i:) c> 
 
 I am certain no man has ever painted the sea as 
 vividly and truly as that fellow has done it — 
 confound him ! for I should like to have had a 
 try myself; but when I look at those things 
 of his, I give in — then you must have one of 
 Henry Moore's Channel pieces — a blue one, if 
 possible — then a bit of the fen country by 
 Macbeth — some birds by Marks — a rustic
 
 PICTOR IGNOTUS 199 
 
 wedding by Tildes — one of Hook's Cornisli sea- 
 pieces " 
 
 And so he went on, naming this one and 
 that, both among the Academicians and the 
 outsiders, until he had constructed a gallery 
 very fairly and widely representative of con- 
 temporary English art ; but ever he returned 
 to the point that while he, Mr. Hague, ought 
 to have his own portrait painted by Ouless or 
 Herkomer or some equally capable artist, it was 
 his first and bounden duty to have his daughter's 
 portrait painted by Sir John Millais. 
 
 " He wants a long price," said the Calcutta 
 merchant, thoughtfully. 
 
 " But he gives you value for your money, 
 and what more can any one want ? " the young 
 man exclaimed. " Why, the rich men of this 
 country ought to be precious glad that there is 
 such an artist alive as Millais to paint their 
 wives and daughters for them ! If ever I were 
 to marr}'', I'd have my wife's portrait painted by 
 Millais, if I had to take the coat off my back to 
 pay for it." 
 
 " I'm afraid the coat wouldn't go far with 
 Sir John," observed Mr. Hague, without mean- 
 ing any disrespect to the young man's attire. 
 "Still, I tliink 3'ou are right; I shall have tlic
 
 200 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 best men all round, if I can manage it ; and 
 I shall be extremely obliged to yon, Mr. 
 Durham, for any advice or note of introduction 
 you may deem advisable. I presume those 
 artists would not consider it impertinent if I 
 called upon them with a view to buying a 
 picture or two ? " 
 
 " I think they would rather like it," said 
 Sydney Durham, modestly, " from what little I 
 know of them." 
 
 Dinner had been over some time. 
 
 " Are you ready, Anne ? " said Mr. Hague, 
 and then he rose ; while the young man sprang 
 to the door. 
 
 " Good evening," said Miss Anne, with a very 
 charming smile and an inclination of the head, 
 as she passed him. 
 
 " My daughter and T have passed a most 
 agreeable evening, thanks to you," the papa 
 was good enough to say ; " and I hope to 
 talk to you further about those pictures, if 
 you will be so kind as to give me your 
 advice." 
 
 So the young artist was left to light his pipe 
 and sit in front of the solitary fire, dreaming 
 idle and not unpleasant dreams. He came to 
 think that if only he could paint like Millais—
 
 A SUMMONS 20 1 
 
 ^vliat a gigantic if ! — he knew where he should 
 go for his first subject. The face — every linea- 
 ment of it, and its gentle and expressive eyes — ■ 
 came between him and the crimson smouldering 
 of the peat. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SUMMONS. 
 
 Next morning Sydney Durham looked out 
 eagerly. Alas ! there was the same misty 
 drizzle of snow; everything looked bleak, and 
 cold, and miserable ; in such weather it was 
 hardly probable that Miss Anne, or her father 
 either, would come down to the boat. Indeed, 
 the old gentleman had confessed the night before 
 that this was not at all what he had bargained 
 for. He had been told that salmon-fishing in 
 the spring was an interesting and not too 
 arduous pastime ; the inn at Inver-mudal had 
 been recommended to him as comfortable 
 quarters ; and he had easily persuaded his 
 youngest daughter to accompany him on a 
 journey of exploration. But when he arrived 
 at Lairg to find the whole country-side covered
 
 202 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 with snow — the mail-carts stopped, and the 
 moors ahnost impassable — and when, having 
 eventually arrived at tlie inn, he heard from the 
 young* artist-fisherman of the ice on the loch 
 and the discomforts of sitting in an open boat 
 amidst sleet and driving winds, he concluded 
 to let the salmon alone until some pleasanter 
 weather should arrive. Accordingly, when 
 Sydney had breakfasted, he got his traps to- 
 gether, summoned his two gillies, and somewhat 
 disconsolately set off for the loch, which he found 
 to be just as cheerless, and dismal, and uncom- 
 fortable as on the previous day. 
 
 But you never know what is going to happen 
 on Loch Naver. Ben Clebrig, the cloud-com- 
 peller, is full of surprises ; the giant magician 
 plays with the weather as with some splendid 
 toy. Towards eleven o'clock the sleet and 
 snow gradually ceased ; the air seemed to grow 
 whiter and more white ; all of a sudden the 
 heavens opened, and behold ! — ere one was 
 aware of the change — the ruffled loch became 
 of the intensest blue, while a warm sunshine 
 spread itself abroad. A want of colour in snow 
 time ? — look at the birch woods that the winds 
 have shaken bare — they are of the most delicate 
 etliereal purple ; look at the exposed knolls of
 
 A SUMMONS 203 
 
 witiiered grass and bracken — they burn like 
 gold. And ever, as he sits and watches this 
 magic transformation, the skies above grow 
 clearer and clearer, and the loch becomes of a 
 darker and darker blue ; while the great white 
 amphitheatre of mountains— Ben Hee and Ben 
 Hope, Ben Loyal and the giant Clebrig — seem 
 to enclose a smiling and beautiful, if voiceless 
 and untenanted. Paradise. How grateful this 
 warm sunshine on face and hands ! How glad- 
 dening to the eyes the dark and vivid colour of 
 this lapping water ! 
 
 And then, far away, he suddenly descried 
 certain small black figures on the waste of 
 snow. 
 
 " Duncan," he exclaimed, " are they coming 
 down to the other boat ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I'm thinking that," Duncan an- 
 swered. 
 
 He looked again. 
 
 " Is the young lady with them ? " 
 
 "Yes; I'm thinking that too," said Duncan, 
 who had the eyesight of a sailor. 
 
 " Well, you must pull me back to the landing- 
 place," the young man continued. " Mr. Hague 
 hasn't brought the right sort of traces with liim, 
 and we must see him properly rigged out."
 
 204 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 " Will ye go ashore, sir ? " 
 " Yes ; pull back to the landing-place." 
 Now if Sydney Durham had been consider- 
 ably impressed by the appearance of the fair 
 yoiing stranger who had wandered into these 
 wilds, he was still more convinced that she was 
 remarkably good-looking when he now landed 
 and advanced towards the little party ; for the 
 walk along from the inn through the crisp air 
 had brought some colour into Miss Anne's face, 
 which was naturally rather pale ; and this rosy 
 glow showed all the more that round her neck 
 she wore a boa of white fur, on which her chin 
 softly nestled. She bade him good morning 
 with friendly eyes. There were mutual con- 
 gratulations on the change in the weather ; and 
 she was enthusiastic about the beauty of this 
 white snow-picture. Then he was perforce 
 obliged to turn to the purpose for which he had 
 come ashore ; and presently he was overhauling 
 the old gentleman's fishing-tackle, and offering 
 his own where that seemed preferable. 
 
 Mr. Hague, being fully equipped, embarked, 
 and his gillies began to shove the boat through 
 the ice ; but when Sydney suggested that Miss 
 Anne should accompany her papa, the young 
 lady declined. She would merely be m the
 
 A SUMMONS 205 
 
 way, she said ; slie would rather go for a walk 
 along the loch-side ; but as she understood the 
 two gentlemen were coming ashore to lunch at 
 the big rock down there, she would return in 
 time to join them. Sydney told her to keep 
 a sharp look-out, and probably she might see a 
 few hinds or a stag or two — for the deer had 
 become very tame by reason of the snow. And 
 so she set forth, and he went back to his boat 
 and his slow circumnavigation of the lake. 
 
 That proved to be a very pleasant little lun- 
 cheon-party under shelter of the big rock ; and 
 Miss Anne, being the only one whose fingers 
 were not frozen, was so kind as to take off her 
 gloves and untie the little parcels for them. 
 Nay, she cut the bread for them ; and carved 
 for them when carving was necessary ; and 
 would have opened the bottled beer, too, if 
 Sydney had allowed her, so compassionate ^vas 
 she over their poor benumbed hands. As for 
 her, after her brisk walk, she looked very warm 
 and snug and comfortable ; and her eyes were 
 most amiable and good-humoured ; and her 
 pretty oval face was as bright and fresh-coloured 
 as ever, nestled upon that thick white fur. It 
 is true that as they sat here and chatted — it was 
 about pictures, mostly — Sydney was somewhat
 
 2c6 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 chagrined to discover that neither Mr. Hague 
 nor his daughter had ever seen any of his 
 work. No doubt (he said to himself) Miss 
 Anne had heard of his name or she would not 
 have asked him to advise her father in his pur- 
 chases ; but he was pretty well convinced, from 
 what they said, or from what they did not say, 
 that they entirely misunderstood his position. 
 They had not heard, then, that his chief picture 
 of last year had been bought by the Academy 
 out of the Chantrey Fund ? They were not 
 aware that his imminent election into the sacred 
 body was regarded as a foregone conclusion by 
 the artist fraternity of London ? No ; to them 
 he was " hut a landscape-painter," endowed per- 
 haps with some vague reputation as being a 
 young man of promise. Well, Sydney Durham 
 was a modest young fellow ; he was not likely 
 to vaunt himself; indeed it rather amused him 
 to notice that when Mr. Hague was talking of 
 all the artists whom he should like to see repre- 
 sented on his walls, no mention was by any 
 chance made of the very one whom he was 
 addressing. Neither father nor daughter had 
 asked to be allowed to see his sketches. 
 
 And yet she had heard enough of him to 
 know that he was a landscape-painter — to this
 
 A SUMMONS 207 
 
 small eminence of l\ime had lie crept — for here, 
 as they still chatted about pictures, she asked 
 him when he was going to leave off fishing and 
 resume his work. 
 
 " I have had no chance as yet," said he, " the 
 weather has been so bad. And universal snow 
 is too monotonous — though it is wonderful what 
 gradations of light and even colour you find in 
 it, when you come to look at it closely. How- 
 ever, I'm going to wait until some of it is 
 melted on the lower ground, to let the moors 
 and the woods show through ; then the moun- 
 tains will still be white, or mostly white." 
 
 " But just what is before you now," she sug- 
 gested, " wouldn't that make a beautiful picture 
 by itself ? — the little bay, the boats at the 
 point, the reflections on the ice, the blue water 
 beyond, and then the snow-peaks, wouldn't 
 that do ? " 
 
 " It would make a pretty drawing-masterish 
 kind of a sketch," said he, carelessly. " But you 
 can't paint a serious picture without thinking 
 about it." 
 
 " Mr. Durham," said she, laughing, '' I'm 
 afraid you find the salmon-fishing too attrac- 
 tive. I understood that this was the time of 
 the year when artists were at their busiest,
 
 208 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 getting ready for the Academy. Do you exhibit 
 at the Academy ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," he replied, gravely, " when they 
 are good enough to give me a place." 
 
 " And shall you be sending anything this 
 year ? " she asked. 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Then I shall see it," she said. " Fancy, 
 this will be my first Academy ! I was taken 
 away from England when I was twelve — and 
 though we have been home again more than 
 once, I have always missed the Academy some- 
 how. Of course, papa will have an added 
 interest, if he goes with the intention of secur- 
 ing some of the pictures." 
 
 " I think I could get you a couple of tickets 
 for the Private Yiew," said he. 
 
 " Oh, could you ? " she said, with her eyes 
 brightening. 
 
 " I think so. Then you could give the early 
 morning to looking at the pictures and tlie 
 afternoon to looking at the people." 
 
 " But we should want some one to point them 
 out." 
 
 " The pictures or the people ? 
 
 "Both," she said, with a laugh. *' At least I 
 for one should feel an absolute stranger."
 
 A SUMMONS 209 
 
 "If I could be of any service to jou — " he 
 timidly suggested. 
 
 She glanced towards her flither ; but the old 
 gentleman had left the young people to talk to 
 themselves ; he was contentedly munching a 
 piece of cake, while his eyes were fixed absently 
 on the blue water and the far white shores. 
 Seeing that she did not respond, Sydney pro- 
 ceeded more boldly — 
 
 *' If you like, I will write at once, and see if 
 I can't get three tickets promised. Then, if 
 that turns out all right, we could appoint a 
 meeting-place — the central sculpture-gallery — 
 at ten sharp ; and I shall have had a look round 
 on Yarnishing-Day — I shall be able to direct you 
 to the chief pictures without any loss of time." 
 
 " ^Yell, it is most kind of you," said the 
 young lady, with downcast eyes. " But I don't 
 think we can allow you to take so much 
 trouble " 
 
 "Trouble!" he exclaimed; "it will give me 
 the greatest pleasure. And perhaps I shall be 
 able to show you on the walls something that 
 will remind you of your visit to the Highlands 
 in mid-winter." 
 
 And with that the old gentleman came out of 
 bis contemplative dreams only to learn that this 
 
 P
 
 2IO A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 forward young man liad made an assignation 
 with his daughter, to the effect that all three 
 should meet in Burlington House, at ten o'clock 
 sharp, at the next Private View of the 
 Academy. 
 
 After luncheon Miss Anne was persuaded to 
 accompany her father, and forthwith got into 
 his boat ; so that Sydney was somewhat reluc- 
 tantly forced to separate from these two com- 
 panions whose intrusion upon his own favourite 
 retreat he had at first bitterly resented. He 
 was very nearly offering to go with them, 
 under the excuse that Mr. Hague's tackle might 
 want some supplementing ; but a wholesome 
 fear of suspicion deterred him ; so he set to 
 work on his own account, and resumed his 
 patient trolling along the solitary little bays. 
 
 There was small chance of fishing. The 
 wind had veered with the sun ; the sky was 
 perfectly cloudless : the strong sunlight poured 
 down on the loch ; and but for the fact that 
 there was still some wind to ruffle the dark 
 blue surface of the water, they might just as 
 well have remained on shore. Sydney, indeed, 
 paid little heed to his two rods. He watched 
 for the coming round of the other boat ; and 
 as the two cobles passed each other, there was
 
 A SUMMONS 211 
 
 always some word of inquiry or encouragement 
 called across ; and he had a glimpse of Miss 
 Anne's pretty face. He began to wonder if she 
 had a sweetheart — as if that were any concern 
 of his. He convinced himself that she had — a 
 remarkably good-looking and pleasant-humoured 
 and engaging girl like that could not have 
 reached her twentieth year (as he guessed) 
 without having attracted the attention of plenty 
 of impertinent young fools. And perhaps one 
 of them had had the audacity to claim her for 
 his own? — for the very prettiest and finest- 
 natured girls were always throwing themselves 
 away on nincompoops and boobies. A girl like 
 Anne Hague never knew her own value; she 
 was always too modest ; she was ready to take 
 it as an enormous favour and compliment when 
 some microcephalous simpleton condescended to 
 ask her to become his wife ; of course Miss 
 Hague must be engaged. And to what kind 
 of a person? — this was his next speculation. 
 Some lanky, long-legged sub-lieutenant whom 
 she had met on board the P. and 0. steamer 
 that had brought her home — a cigarette-smoking 
 kind of a creature, with no more brains in his 
 head than pence in his pocket? Or perliaps 
 gome fat old Indian merchant, with puffed 
 
 p 2
 
 212 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 cheeks and bilious eyes, had had the monstrous 
 impudence to seek a young bride, and had been 
 successful in his hideous wooing by pleading a 
 long friendship with her father ? And what 
 was more likely than that the accepted suitor 
 would be following his lady-love into the High- 
 lands ? Whom should he be prepared to meet, 
 then ? — the lanky young subaltern or the yellow- 
 eyed nabob ? A pretty addition to the house- 
 hold at Inver-mudal ! Perhaps he would be 
 expected to give up his boat to the new-comer — 
 as a compliment to Miss Hague ! 
 
 " They've got hold of a fish, sir," said Duncan, 
 suddenly, startling him out of his jealous and 
 wrathful reveries. 
 
 " Have you seen him, Duncan ? " he asked 
 eagerly. " Is he a clean fish ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; he has not showed above the 
 water yet." 
 
 " Why doesn't the old gentleman stand up ? — 
 he'll never fight a fish like that ! " 
 
 " Mebbe he is feared, sir," the gillie said, 
 with a demure grin. " I hef seen chentlemen 
 not used to the salmon that would hef their 
 knees shaking at tlie first run ; ay, and tliem 
 not able to stand up at ahl. There he goes, 
 sir ! — it's a clean fish I "
 
 A SUMMONS 213 
 
 " Oh, that's all right ; I hope he'll get him 
 now. It is the young lady who has brought 
 them luck." 
 
 And very keenly did the three pair of eyes 
 in this boat watch the struggle going on away 
 at the other side of the loch. Of course they 
 could not hear the scream of the reel ; they 
 could only make out what the fish was doing' 
 when he broke the surface of the water ; and 
 they could guess by the elevation of Mr. Hague's 
 rod that he was not putting any great pressure 
 on the salmon, so that the fight promised to 
 be a long one. Indeed Sydney's men had time 
 to row all across the head of the loch and down 
 the other side until they were within hailing 
 distance of the other party before the quick 
 glitter of a white thing in the air showed that 
 the fish had been safely got into the coble. 
 
 " I congratulate you ! " Sydney called, as they 
 drew near ; but the old gentleman was far too 
 much agitated to reply. 
 
 " AVhat weight is he ? " the young man called 
 again. 
 
 "Eleven pounds, sir," answered one of Mr, 
 Hague's gillies. 
 
 "You'll get another before the afternoon's 
 over."
 
 214 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 "It is your turn, Mr. Durham," was Miss 
 Hague's rejoinder, as the boats again slowly 
 separated. 
 
 But it was not salmon that were in his mind 
 as the calm afternoon wore into a still calmer 
 evening, and for the time being he almost for- 
 got Miss Anne. The extraordinary beauty of 
 the scene around stirred the artist's soul within 
 him, and yet with a touch of sadness, for it 
 seemed so impossible that any adequate record 
 or transcript of it could be made and carried 
 away — even in memory. Who could put upon 
 any canvas those far-reaching snow-slopes, that 
 were now of rarest rose, with every dell and 
 corner marked in lines of faintest azure ? In 
 the wan green sky of the east hung a solitary 
 orange cloud, soft and motionless and distant, 
 as if belonging to another world altogether ; 
 while high above Clebrig hung the silver cres- 
 cent of the moon, looking down upon the dying 
 glory of the west. It was all too wonderful — 
 too ethereal in texture and subtle in its atmos- 
 pheric gradations — to be attempted by mortal 
 brush. He might as well have tried to convey 
 the curious sense of solitariness produced by 
 those now darkening shores, where not even 
 tlie cry of a home-winging bird broke the
 
 A SUMMONS 215 
 
 silence. After this display of splendour the 
 world was sinking into the still, hard, voiceless 
 sleep of a winter night. 
 
 And yet, as the boats were brought to land, 
 and the black figures proceeded to make their 
 way home through the snow, some faint remem- 
 brance of that evening glory still hung in the 
 sky ; and Miss Anne was asking her companion 
 at this moment whether the beautiful snow- 
 picture that had surrounded them while on the 
 loch had not tempted him to forsake salmon- 
 fishing for ever and set seriously to work. 
 
 " All that was beyond me," he said. " But 
 I have been thinking I might take your sug- 
 gestion of the luncheon-party at the rock, the 
 boats at the point, and the gillies crouching 
 under the stone wall. The reflections on the 
 ice would be difiScult to manage, perhaps. I'll 
 have another look to-morrow. You must come 
 down at lunch-time. Miss Hague, for I want a 
 group of figures at the rock." 
 
 " Oh, yes, certainly," said she, at once and 
 pleasantly. " I shall be glad to come down 
 and see how you have been getting on." 
 
 That seemed a simple promise and one easy 
 of fulfilment ; and yet it turned out otherwise. 
 They had just gained the welcome shelter of
 
 2i6 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 the inn, wlien Miss Anne, who was leading the 
 way through the lobby, picked up an envelope 
 from the table. 
 
 *' Here is a telegram for you, papa." 
 
 " I hate telegrams," he said, snappishly. " I 
 wish people would let me alone when I wish to 
 be alone." 
 
 But, of course, he had to read the message ; 
 and when he had done so, he said, deliberately — 
 
 " It is vexatious ; but it's got to be done. 
 Anne, I shall have to start off for the south 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Papa ! " 
 Oh, it's got to be done, that's all," he said. 
 
 Most likely I shall only have to be in London 
 a few days, and then I'll come back, for I want 
 to see some more of this salmon-fishing. You 
 will remain here, of course ; it wouldn't be 
 worth your while to travel all the way to 
 London and back for nothing. If it turns out 
 that I must go on to Lisbon, then that would 
 be too long for you to remain here ; probably 
 I should not think of coming back ; and in that 
 case I will telegraph to you, and you must make 
 your way south by yourself ; I shall have some 
 one waiting for you at Euston. But if I have 
 merely to be in London for two or three days, 

 
 A SUMMONS 217 
 
 you'll be able to find something to do during 
 the time I may be gone." 
 
 " Oh, yes," she said, cheerfully enough, and 
 that was all that Sydney heard of the matter. 
 
 But as he went to his own room to prepare 
 for dinner, it may frankly be confessed that he 
 regarded this new condition of affairs with a 
 good deal of concern, not to say absolute dismay. 
 For what would be his relations with Miss 
 Anne when she was left alone in this remote 
 and solitary little inn ? They could not become 
 strangers all at once, and pretend to ignore each 
 other's existence. For mere courtesy's sake, he 
 was bound to do what he could to enliven her 
 solitude ; but how much of her society could he 
 claim, in these peculiar circumstances, without 
 causing her embarrassment? Take the next 
 evening, for example. The three of them had 
 dined together, not because this room was re- 
 garded as a public room (for it had been handed 
 over to Sydney in exchange for the one from 
 which he had been ousted), but because it was 
 more convenient for the servants than the other 
 sitting-room, which was in a wing of the house. 
 Very well ; to-morrow evening would J\Iisa 
 Anne make her appearance, alone, to dine with 
 him tete-a-tete (which would be just about as
 
 2i8 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 awkward for him as for her; ; or would she be 
 forced into the apparent discourtesy of a refusal, 
 which would leave a distinct sense of constraint 
 between them, even if she did not wholly avoid 
 his society as the easiest way out of the diffi- 
 culty ? Sydney did not like this situation of 
 affairs at all ; it seemed hard, just as this very 
 pleasant alliance and companionship was being 
 formed, that it should fall to the young lady 
 herself to be obliged to sever it, even at the 
 risk of seeming discourtesy. But what else 
 could she do, he sadly asked himself: the possi- 
 bility of a little dinner-party of two — he and she, 
 and no one else — was far too wild and wondrous 
 a thing to be seriously entertained. 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 SEVERED. 
 
 There was a sharp frost that night, and next 
 morning showed a hard, clear, steel-blue sky, 
 with brilliant sunshine lighting up the snow- 
 bound world, so that the birds took to chirping 
 blithely among the leafless trees. It was 
 altogether a cheerful morning, the very morning
 
 SEVERED 219 
 
 for a brisk, invigorating walk ; and as Sydney 
 Durham took his accustomed way to the loch, 
 he made sure that the young lady left all by 
 herself in the inn would come abroad during 
 the day, and that he would be able to make 
 out her figure in the wide, white landscape. 
 As for her promise to make her appearance 
 at the big rock at lunch-time, she was virtually 
 absolved from that by the departure of her 
 father. Friendly as her disposition seemed to 
 be, he could hardly expect her to keep that 
 appointment. So, when he got down to the 
 boat, he set to work to get his lines in order 
 without much hope of any pleasant companion- 
 ship when the mid-day halt should be called. 
 
 But fortune had something else in store for 
 him this morning. He had just got out the 
 lines, and was settling down to a placid con- 
 templation of the snow-clad hills and the blue 
 loch when a sudden vibration of tlie rod and 
 a loud scream of the reel startled him into 
 attention. He snatched at the one rod with 
 his right hand, and with his left took up the 
 other and passed it on to Duncan so that he 
 might reel up and have the way clear. But 
 the transference had not been completed when 
 away went the line of the second rod with an
 
 220 A SNOIV I'DYLL 
 
 alarming shriek ; and instantly the truth was 
 flashed upon him that he had got a salmon on 
 each of the lines. To say that there was joy 
 in this discovery would be absolutely the reverse 
 of the fact; there was bewilderment, agony, 
 terror — anything but joy. 
 
 " Pull, Peter ! " he yelled. " Pull into the 
 shore ! Look alive, man ! Here, Duncan, you 
 take this rod and jump out as soon as you can 
 and get away from me as far as you can. My 
 goodness, I hojoe they won't cross the lines ! " 
 
 Peter was pulling as if he would break his 
 back ; and as they fortunately happened to be 
 opposite a little bay in which there was no ice, 
 a few seconds sufficed to get the boat ashore ; 
 instantly Duncan jumped into the water, rod 
 in hand, and ran away along the bank ; then 
 he suddenly stood stock still, staring in amaze- 
 ment and despair. The terrible discovery had 
 been made by Sydney at the same moment — 
 the fish had crossed the lines, and were tugging 
 at each other : what mortal traces could bear 
 this fearful strain ? 
 
 The situation was appalling. Had Duncan 
 been able to get the one rod taken away along 
 the bank before the lines had crossed, the 
 matter would have been simple enough ; for
 
 SEVERED 221 
 
 each fish could have been played separately 
 and in safety, the one from the boat, the other 
 from the bank ; but, now that the lines had 
 crossed, the two salmon were hauling at each 
 other; while neither Sydney nor Duncan dared 
 put the least pressure on them, for in that case 
 they would only be increasing this already 
 most perilous strain. But what was to be 
 done ? A more hopeless predicament could 
 not be imagined ; indeed, if it had not been 
 agonising to the chief actor in the scene, it 
 would have been ludicrous enough. There 
 were the two salmon almost on the surface of 
 the water, and in their struggles to get away 
 from this entanglement they rolled over each 
 other like a couple of pigs ; in the boat was 
 Sydney, holding a rod in his hand, and looking 
 on, at once distracted and helpless ; on the 
 shore was Duncan, also holding a rod, and 
 quite as helpless as his master. Only one thing 
 was absolutely certain : this tugging of the 
 I wo salmon against each other could not last 
 many seconds longer ; the strongest tackle must 
 give before such violent usage. 
 
 " Well, I must chance it, Peter," Sydney 
 said ; and therewith he sprang out of the boat 
 and on to the bank, " Bring the gaft' —if I
 
 222 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 can't land tliem botli upon the shore, they'll 
 be off directly." 
 
 He called on Duncan to come nearer; and 
 this the gillie did, reeling in as he came, and 
 keeping almost a slack line, for the two fish, 
 hopelessly intermixed, were practically being 
 played by the one rod. Being played? — they 
 were being landed ! Sydney kept stepping 
 back and back on the snow, with a deliberate 
 and steady strain, risking everything on the 
 strength of the gut. How and why neither 
 of the lines cut the other, he could not under- 
 stand ; but still they held, as he towed the two 
 salmon into the shallows, by main force. And 
 then followed a bit of quick and lively action 
 on the part of Peter. He sprang into the 
 water, gaff in hand ; with a sudden swoop, 
 he got hold of the one fish and dragged him 
 ashore, lines and all, and shook him off, then 
 he jumped into the water again before the 
 other fish floundering there could do any 
 mischief, and him also he bore to bank on his 
 victorious clip. It was a wild and most un- 
 scientific scrimmage ; no one could tell exactly 
 how it all occurred ; but here, lying on the 
 snow, were the two resplendent creatures — 
 silvery, pale blue, and purple — and neither the
 
 SEVERED 223 
 
 one nor the other of the traces had even been 
 frayed ! 
 
 "Well, that is a stroke of luck, Peter!" 
 Sydney exclaimed, with considerable fervour. 
 " I've had two salmon on once before, but never 
 with crossed lines. I'll send a testimonial to 
 that tackle-maker, as sure as I'm alive ; and he 
 can print it in the Fishing Gazette if he likes." 
 
 Well, now, fortune seemed to think she had 
 shown him sufScient favour for one morning ; 
 for all the forenoon he industriously explored 
 those winding bays, to no purpose. Then he 
 went ashore for lunch. But nowhere in the 
 white, silent landscape could he see any solitary 
 figure approaching ; of course not ; she would 
 expect him to understand that her promise had 
 been cancelled. And what of the sketch with- 
 out the group of figures at the big rock ? He 
 began to think he could make something out 
 of such a day as this — a hard, clear, metallic 
 sky ; bold white clouds that were mirrored in 
 a dull silvery-grey fashion on the ice ; the blue, 
 ruffled water ; the snow of the moorlands quite 
 of a warm hue in the sun ; the colder tone of 
 the far slopes of Ben Loyal and Ben Hee and 
 Ben Hope. He would have two boats at the 
 point, however ; and a larger group of gillies ;
 
 224 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 but these were minor details ; lie seemed to be 
 getting hold of a subject, as he sate, and 
 smoked, and stared. 
 
 The afternoon brought that difficult dinner- 
 question to the front again; and he began to 
 ask himself, with an innumerable variety of 
 doubts and hesitations and surmises, whether 
 it was quite such an impossibility that Miss 
 Anne should honour him with her company at 
 tlie modest banquet which Mrs. Murray would 
 send in. Surely a young lady could with 
 perfect propriety enter the public-room of an 
 inn and take her dinner there, no matter what 
 the number of the other guests? Supposing 
 that he and she dined in separate rooms, would 
 not each know the arrangement to be the result 
 of an absurd conventionalism, and would not 
 each know that the other knew, and was think- 
 ing of it ? What happiness it would be to find 
 Miss Anne his sole companion at the dinner- 
 table ! For there would be no interruption to 
 their talk; he would try to entertain her as 
 best he could ; and he would lead her on to 
 speak of all her own experiences and opinions 
 and plans which were of the greatest and deepest 
 interest to him. Surely their dining separately 
 would only be a stupid formalism ?
 
 SEVERED 225 
 
 At the same time lie had an uneasy con- 
 sciousness that that room was not entirely a 
 public-room ; and that a young lady could 
 hardly be expected to come and dine in the 
 private room of a comparative stranger, sola 
 cum sold. When her father was there, they 
 had taken their other meals in their own room. 
 Indeed, Sydney surmised that Mr. Murray, the 
 landlord, had simply assumed that three people, 
 finding themselves thrown together in so 
 remote a place, would naturally prefer to dine 
 together ; while no doubt Mrs. Murray had 
 chosen his, Sydney's room, because it was 
 nearer the kitchen. And here at last he began 
 to see daylight. Would not the solution of 
 this dark diplomatic difficulty finally rest with 
 Mrs. Murray ? If she thought Miss Hague 
 might find it embarrassing to go into the quasi 
 public-room for dinner, would not she tell the 
 fair-haired Nelly that the yourjg lady would 
 dine in her own room ? So that not on Miss 
 Anne would lie the onus of refusal. She would 
 not have to appear unfriendly. Both she and 
 he would simply bow to the dictates of the 
 worthy Mrs. Murray. 
 
 Nevertheless, when he got home to the inn 
 tUat eveniijg, and when he had thawed himself 
 
 Q
 
 226 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 before the comfortable fire lie found in his 
 bedroom, and changed his attire, it was with 
 a considerable curiosity, perhaps with a little 
 trepidation, that he went downstairs. The 
 first swift glance at the table put an end to all 
 his doubts, hopes, or fears. He was to dine 
 alone. Miss Hague was remaining in her own 
 room. It would be hard to say whether dis- 
 appointment or some little feeling of relief was 
 uppermost in his mind ; at all events, it was not 
 his business to protest ; Mrs. Murray had settled 
 that difiScult question, and he was content. 
 
 Yet, as he sat at his solitary meal and thought 
 of the poor lone prisoner in the other room, his 
 heart was melted with pity ; and he thought 
 she could not be offended if he sent her a little 
 message. So, when dinner was over, he said 
 to the tall and fair-haired Highland luss who 
 waited on him, 
 
 "Look here, Nelly, I wish you would take 
 my compHments to Miss Hague, and say I 
 caught two salmon this morning, and that I 
 hope she will accept one of them to send to 
 one of her friends. If she gives me the name 
 and address, I will write the label, and see the 
 fish sent off." 
 
 Nelly went away and speedily returned.
 
 SEVERED 227 
 
 *' Miss Hague's compliments to you, sir, and 
 she is ferry mich obliged, but she could not 
 think to tek the fish from you, when there's so 
 few of them whatever." 
 
 '' Oh, but I insist. You tell her that, Nelly. 
 She may send it to her father, if she likes ; for 
 her father sent that one of yesterday to some- 
 body else." 
 
 Eventually, Miss Anne sent him her father's 
 address, and also a very pleasant message of 
 thanks ; so that matter was settled aright. 
 Then in the course of the evening, he began to 
 think that all the illustrated papers (the only 
 kind of periodical literature artists ever read) 
 which were lying about, were in a state of sad 
 confusion ; so he set to work to sort them out, 
 and arrange them, and put them into ship- 
 shape. And again he summoued Nelly, and 
 bade her take this bundle into Miss Hairne's 
 room, so that she might look at the pictures if 
 she cared to do so ; and again came a grateful 
 message from the poor lone prisoner. All this 
 was very pleasant ; and he was glad to have 
 even this remote kind of companionship estab- 
 lished, even if lath and plaster walls intervened 
 between him and her; but, as it turned out, 
 they were not always to remain so isolated. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 A SNOW IDYLL. 
 
 Next morning was Sunday. There was no 
 church in this httle hamlet, nor yet within 
 many a long mile of it ; so, when he had read 
 for a while after breakfast, he got his cap and 
 walking-stick and wandered forth into the silent 
 world of snow. The weather was still hard 
 and bright and clear ; but the sunlight was 
 almost hot ; indeed, when he had got out into 
 the moorland the warmth was sufiScient to 
 sweeten all the air with odours from the 
 Avithered grass and heather. He went down 
 to the Mudal, crossed the bridge, and made his 
 way along to the shores of the loch. What was 
 this strange whispering — this continuous, soft 
 buzzing in the universal silence ? At last he 
 made it out. The loch was only partially 
 frozen over ; and where the sheet of ice ceased 
 there was a fringe of broken fragments that the 
 lapping water kept in constant motion, pro- 
 ducing this curious murmur, the while the 
 various corners and angles of the broken ice 
 flashed millions of diamonds in the sun. On 
 and on he went, idly, at peace with all the 
 world, wishing no harm to any living creature. 
 The curlews called their warning note as they 
 wheeled and wheeled up to some higher slope ; 
 but they must have known he had no gun with
 
 SEVERED 229 
 
 liim. He started a wliite hare out of the wood 
 near Morten's Bay ; but she did not go far 
 before she stopped, sat up on her haunches, 
 cocked her ears, and stared at him. It is true 
 an old grouse cock came whirring down towards 
 him with a long angry cry that ended in a fierce 
 crow of defiance, its eye bright and bold, its red 
 comb resplendent ; but he soon discovered the 
 cause of all this martial display ; from another 
 knoll not far off came the answering note of the 
 hen, but a very quiet and ordinary note, as if 
 she were saying, " Oh, it's all right ; don't 
 make such a mighty fuss ; do you think I can't 
 take care of myself?" and then, with hardly a 
 glance at the passing stranger, she calmly 
 resumed her pecking at the seeds of the withered 
 heather. 
 
 He spent all the morning wandering here 
 and there along the shores of the loch ; and 
 about midday he thought he would return to 
 the inn for some food. He met no one on the 
 way back, as he had met no one on the way out, 
 until, while he was yet some little distance from 
 the bridge, he beheld a solitary figure coming 
 along the Mudal valley. He looked again and 
 again ; he became more and more convinced 
 that this must be Miss Hague ; and as the two
 
 230 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 roads converged at tlie bridge, at the bridge 
 they were bound to meet. He arrived there 
 first, it is true ; but he made no scruple about 
 waiting until she should come up ; and, indeed, 
 when she drew near, she greeted him with 
 great frankness and without the slightest trace 
 of embarrassment. 
 
 " What a beautiful day it is ! " she said, as 
 they walked on together to the inn. " It is so 
 strange to feel the hot sunlight, and yet to find 
 every pool frozen over. But I suppose there 
 must be some melting, for you can hear the 
 trickling of the water underneath. What a 
 lonely place this is ! I have been away up that 
 glen for miles, and have not seen a living thing 
 except a hare — at least I suppose it was a hare, 
 though it looked much more like a white 
 cat." 
 
 " And it must be particularly lonely for you," 
 said he, " even in the inn, since your father 
 left." 
 
 " Yes, it is a little," she made answer, cheer- 
 fully enough ; " but I always carry plenty of 
 books with me, wherever I go ; and then it was 
 very kind of you to lend me those illustrated 
 papers. I found them extremely interesting in 
 a place like this — they seemed to show you all
 
 SEVERED 231 
 
 that was going on in a world out of which you 
 had come altogether." 
 
 " Well, you know, Miss Hague, you mustn't 
 think that Inver-mudal is always like this in 
 March," he was proceeding to say, by way of 
 apologising for the weather, when she inter- 
 rupted him. 
 
 " Oh, but I like it ! " she said. " I like the 
 solitariness, and the wildness, and the snow. It 
 suits me perfectly. I don't know that papa 
 quite bargained for it." 
 
 " Of course not," he said. " This is quite 
 exceptional. The common fault of Inver-mudal 
 in the spring is its summer-like weather — from 
 the fisherman's point of view, that is ; you go 
 down to the loch every day only to find it 
 getting lower and lower, the water a sheet of 
 glass, and you with nothing to do but sit on 
 the gunwale of the boat and kick your heels in 
 the sand." 
 
 " I'm afraid salmon-fishing isn't a good thing 
 for an artist," she said, with a smile. " Doesn't 
 it rather tend to idleness ? " 
 
 "Meaning me ? " he said, contentedly. "Well, 
 I start work to-morrow." 
 
 " Where ? " she asked. 
 
 *' I am going to take the subject you sug-
 
 233 A SNOW IDVLL 
 
 gested — the bay at the big rock, v/ith the boats 
 and c:illies." 
 
 " Oh, indeed," she said ; and then she con- 
 tinued in the most frank and off-hand way : 
 " Would 3^ou mind if I came down during the 
 day to see how you were getting on ? " 
 
 The very simplicity of this proposal somewhat 
 took him aback ; it was a far more friendly con- 
 cession on her part than he could have dreamed 
 of asking from her. 
 
 " I should be delighted," he said. *' I shall be 
 looking forward to your coming all the morning." 
 
 " You see," she explained, " I want to go and 
 have a look at the Pictish fort I have heard so 
 much about ; and I suppose I must go along by 
 that side of the loch. If I mav, I will come 
 down to the big rock in passing, just to make 
 sure that you liave not been tempted to go 
 away after the salmon again." 
 
 He was just about to say, " Why not come at 
 lunch-time ? " but he dared not ; surely it was 
 enough that all of her own free will slie was 
 about to pay him a little visit ? Indeed, he was 
 very grateful to her for this mark of interest in 
 him and his pursuits, though little did he dream 
 of what was to come of that chance ramble to 
 the Pictish fort.
 
 A RESCUE 
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 A RESCUE. 
 
 Enveloped in a miglity ulster of Harris home- 
 spun, Sydney Durham was seated before his 
 easel, down by the loch-side ; and with a light, 
 firm, and practised hand he was transferring to 
 the upright block the chief features of this wide 
 landscape — the silver-grey ice, the blue, lapping 
 water beyond, the farther shores now showing 
 something of russet and gold through the melt- 
 ing of the snow, and the far peaks of the northern 
 mountains rising white into a steel-bright sky. 
 This was but a sketch, a memento ; perhaps at 
 some future time he might take up the subject 
 and make a serious picture of it ; perhaps tlie 
 sketch would remain a sketch — in the portfolio 
 of a friend. Anyhow he was succeeding in 
 getting a very fair and honest transcript of the 
 scene before him when he discovered that ]\Iiss 
 Hague, true to her promise, was coming along 
 through the snow to pay him a visit; where- 
 upon he rose and put aside his painting imple- 
 ments, and began to stamp his feet and clap his 
 hands in order to get some blood into them.
 
 234 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, as she came along, 
 her bright young face smiling from over that 
 boa of thick white fur. " I should think you 
 found it cold work." 
 
 " Not much colder than sitting in the boat," 
 said he. " But if I get this thing finished in 
 time, I mean to have a turn round the loch, to 
 see if I can't pick up another salmon for you to 
 send to one of your friends." 
 
 She went forward to see the " thing " of 
 which he seemed to speak rather contemptu- 
 ously ; and in her modest way she said that to 
 her at least it appeared just admirable. Nothing 
 could be more vivid and life-like, she declared. 
 Now, praise from the lips of a very pretty and 
 engaging young woman ought to have been 
 sweet to the ears of a young man ; but perhaps 
 Sydney took a truer estimate of the value of 
 this rough pictorial memorandum ; at all events 
 he drew her attention away from it by begin- 
 ning to speak of the Pictish fort whither she 
 was bound. 
 
 " There is one thing," said he, " if you want 
 to explore the passages between the walls — you 
 know there are double walls all the way round, 
 whatever they were meant for — well, if you 
 want to creep in and explore, you need have no
 
 A RESCUE 235 
 
 fear of snakes at this time of year. It's a rare 
 place for adders in the summer. But I dare 
 say you will find it too cold and wet to go in 
 on hands and knees ; I've never been in myself." 
 
 " Mr. Durham," said she, very prettily, 
 " won't you please go on with your work ? 
 then I shouldn't think I was interrupting you." 
 
 She was not hurrying away, then ? Out of 
 her frank good-nature had she come down to 
 the loch-side to cheer him with a few minutes' 
 companionship and talk ? He needed no second 
 invitation. Instantly he took to his task again ; 
 and as he sat down he resumed the conversa- 
 tion, that she should have no excuse for going 
 away at once. 
 
 " I have been trying curling this morning," 
 said he, as he took up his palette and brushes, 
 " to keep myself warm." 
 
 " Curling ? " she said, doubtfully. 
 
 " It is a Scotch game," he explained — 
 "played on the ice. Do you see the bottle 
 away out yonder? I managed to send it so 
 far, and I have been trying to reach it with 
 stones." 
 
 " I suppose I couldn't reach it," she observed, 
 with a glance at the bottle that lay far out on 
 the frozen sheet of water.
 
 236 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 "You might try — it is a capital exercise," 
 
 he said, encouragingly, as he was working 
 away. " But I don't know how it is that 
 women never can throw a stone." 
 
 " Why, that is simple enough," said she ; 
 " it is merely because they never wished to 
 learn. It is one of many accomplishments they 
 prefer to leave to men. A woman sometimes 
 grows a moustache ; hut she isn't proud of it." 
 
 Nevertheless, Miss Anne made several des- 
 perate efforts to reach the small target, and all 
 in vain ,• she was as awkward at throwing a 
 stone as any woman ever born ; then, as she 
 gave up, he sought to detain her by talking of 
 something else, no matter what. 
 
 " Do you skate, Miss Hague ? " he said, at a 
 venture. 
 
 " No, I have never tried," she answered. 
 
 " It isn't often that Loch Naver is frozen 
 over," he continued ; " there are too many 
 squalls about. But they say it has sometimes 
 been frozen so hard that the deer have crossed 
 from Clebrig to the other side. Have you seen 
 any deer yet ? " 
 
 " No, not one," she made answer, " though I 
 have been watchins: everywhere when I have 
 been out walking 
 
 »9
 
 A RESCUE 237 
 
 " 111 very cold weather," said he, most im- 
 prudently, " they sometimes come into the 
 wood beyond the Pictish fort" — imprudently, 
 for at the mention of the Pictish fort, she 
 seemed to remember her purpose in coming 
 out. 
 
 "Perhaps I may be more fortunate to-day," 
 said Miss Anne. " So I will bid you good-bye 
 for the present. I am glad to see you have 
 got on so well." 
 
 Whereupon she was gone ; and he was left 
 alone with his work, in which he seemed to 
 take less interest now. Mechanically he went 
 on with it, it is true ; but his thoughts were 
 wandering away along the shores of this 
 solitary loch, to the old tower built out on the 
 wooded promontory, its rude, uncemented walls 
 rising high above the scattered birch and 
 hazels. Would she have been grievously 
 offended if he had offered to be her guide? 
 This sketch, now, seemed to have in it all he 
 would probably want. He had not proposed 
 to carry it umch further. It was a first im- 
 pression, as it were; it dealt only with broad 
 and general eflects ; he had had no intention of 
 going into detail. When lunch-time came, he 
 had convinced himself that he had done enouorh :
 
 238 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 and that simple meal over, he put together his 
 painting gear and placed it where he could pick 
 it up on the way home ; and then he and the 
 gillies got into the boat, and the trolling for 
 salmon began. 
 
 " But, look here, Duncan," he said, as soon 
 as the lines were out, " I think we make a 
 great mistake in always keeping to the upper 
 end of the loch ; the consequence is it gets 
 fished to death. "We ought to try further down 
 the sides. Nobody ever thought of going down 
 to Morten's Bay until Mr. Morten found again 
 and again that he could sneak a fish out of that 
 bay when every other place was hopeless. Why 
 shouldn't we go away down by the Pictish fort, 
 and have a try there ? " 
 
 " Oh, ferry well, sir ; we will chist do that," 
 Duncan said, readily enough ; and presently 
 the boat had altered its course and was making 
 towards the east. 
 
 As they slowly rowed away down the loch, 
 it was not the salmon-rods that chiefly claime 1 
 his attention, it was rather the lonely shores 
 they were passing. There is no path along 
 this side of Loch Naver ; and he knew it would 
 take Miss Anne some time ere she made her 
 way across the rough moorland and through
 
 A RESCUE 239 
 
 the bircli woods to tlie ruins of the ancient fort ; 
 anyhow, wherever she might be, she would 
 surely see the boat, and she would know that 
 he had finished work for the day. Did she 
 want any information about that curious hill 
 of stones ? — she had but to come down to the 
 loch-side and call to him, and he would willingly 
 go ashore. Was there a chance of her being 
 tired by this rough walk over the drifted snow 
 and heather ? Well, she had but to summon 
 the boat, and gladly would he have her rowed 
 up to the head of the lake. Indeed, so pre- 
 occupied was Mr. Sydney Durham at this 
 moment that he procured for himself a smartly 
 cut finger, as it chanced ; for a fish having 
 bolted away with one of the minnows, the 
 young man thoughtlessly snatched at the rod 
 with his hand over the line ; and the line, 
 running out at an inconceivable speed, left 
 a mark on his forefinger that remained there 
 for many a day thereafter. However, he 
 eventually got the salmon — a game little fish 
 of eight or nine pounds, that quite exhausted 
 himself with his first rushes and plunges, and 
 allowed himself to be captured rather under a 
 quarter of an hour. 
 
 And after all they had to pass Miss Anne
 
 240 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 without her observing them. The ancieDt 
 and ruined stronghold stands on a promon- 
 tory that becomes an island when the loch is 
 high ; and Sydney guessed that she would 
 have some difficulty in getting across the con- 
 necting neck of land, what with the broken 
 stones and the ice. In fact, she was care- 
 fully picking her steps as they went by. at 
 some distance from her ; and she was too 
 much occupied to notice them. The next he 
 saw of her was when the boat had got some 
 way past the tower ; and then he perceived 
 that she had climbed right to the top of the 
 ruins, for the small mite of a figure was black 
 against the clear sky. Then she disappeared ; 
 and he took it for granted that she was explor- 
 ing the interior of this mysterious building, 
 and that she would soon set out again on her 
 return to the inn. 
 
 With the exception of the small fish they 
 had got on the way down, these bays yielded 
 them nothing ; and Duncan and Peter were 
 directed to put the boat round again and get 
 back to the head of the loch ; so that once 
 again they would go by the ruined tower. It 
 was not until they had passed it and were 
 some distance oU" that Sydney noticed that
 
 A RESCUE 241 
 
 Miss Hao'ue — whose fio-ure had been hidden 
 Lj some birch-trees — was now down near tho 
 shore, and, as he fancied, was waving a hand- 
 kerchief to him. "Well, that was a very- 
 friendly greeting, and he returned it. Of 
 course he did not take his eyes away from 
 her ; and he was considerably surprised to 
 observe that she repeated the signal. 
 
 " Wait a minute, Duncan," said he. " I 
 think Miss Hague wants us to go ashore." 
 
 He hesitated, it is true ; for if he were to 
 misinterpret a merely passing salute into an 
 invitation from the young lady to join her, 
 that would be a very awkward thing : on the 
 other hand, did not the repeated signal mean 
 something? What suddenly brought him I0 
 a decision was the recollection that soon his 
 minnows would be aground ; so instantly he 
 gave one of the rods to Duncan to reel up, 
 while he himself reeled up the other. They 
 were going ashore. 
 
 The men ran the bow of the boat into a 
 little creek, and he sprang out and made his 
 way over the big blocks of stone that time 
 and the weather had hurled down from the 
 walls of the fort ; and when he drew near to 
 her, he said : 
 
 R
 
 242 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Miss Hague, but did 
 you want me? — I fancied you might want 
 me, perhaps " 
 
 " I am sorry to trouble you," she said, " but 
 — but could you take me with you in your 
 boat ? I have hurt my foot. I am afraid I 
 can't walk back to the inn." 
 
 " Oh, of course I will ! " he said, eagerly. 
 " But it isn't anything serious, is it? I ought 
 to have warned you about all those loose 
 blocks of stone, and then the snow covering 
 
 them " Even as he spoke he noticed the 
 
 odd, constrained look of her face : moreover, 
 she was holding on by one hand to the branch 
 of a tree. " Can you make your way down 
 to the boat, do you think ? " 
 
 " Give me your hand, please, and I will 
 
 try." 
 
 He took her hand firmly in his, and kicked 
 away the snow from the stone on which she 
 was to step. She attempted to move forward, 
 but at the same instant a swift expression of 
 pain shot across her features, and she clutched 
 at the branch of the tree again. 
 
 " No — I — I can't put my foot to the ground, 
 and — I suppose I have twisted my ankle ; but 
 the pain may go away by-and-by. Don't let
 
 A RESCUE 243 
 
 me detain you, Mr. Durham. I can't get down 
 to the boat, and that's the fact." 
 
 " I am not going to leave you until I see 
 you safely into the inn," said he, warmly. 
 " You have sprained your foot badly, that's 
 about what it is ; and do you think I am 
 going to leave you here ? Not likely ! I'll 
 tell you what we must do. It is no use row- 
 ing you up to the head of the loch, for then 
 you would have a mile and a half between 
 you and the inn ; we will row you over to 
 the other side, for there is a good road there, 
 and one of my gillies will go along to Mr. 
 Murray and get some kind of vehicle sent for 
 you at once." 
 
 " I am so sorry to give you so much trouble," 
 she said. 
 
 " Do you know that a bad sprain is a very 
 
 serious thing," said he, almost reproachfully, 
 
 " and should be seen to without a moment's 
 
 delay ? I consider myself very lucky to have 
 
 been within call of you when this happened. 
 
 Well, now, if you can't put your foot to the 
 
 ground — and I wouldn't try it, if I were you ; 
 
 you may only be doing more damage — as you 
 
 can't put your foot to the ground, I must carry 
 
 you down to the boat." 
 
 R 2
 
 244 '4 SNOW IDYLL 
 
 She started somewhat ; but she said nothing ; 
 and somehow, at the same moment, there 
 flashed upon him the fancy that he could get 
 her conveyed to the boat in a fashion that 
 would embarrass her less. 
 
 " Or I'll tell you what will be better," said 
 he, " I'll get those two sturdy fellows to come 
 up, and you'll put a hand on a shoulder of each 
 of them, and they'll carry you down as if you 
 were sitting in an easy-chair. Won't that be 
 better ? " 
 
 " Yes," said she, with averted eyes. 
 
 "For they're more used to the rocks than 
 I am," he explained, " and we mustn't risk 
 any further accident. Hi, Duncan, Peter ! " 
 he called to the two gillies, " come along 
 here ! " 
 
 The two men came quickly up ; and very 
 soon Miss Anne was being conveyed, with the 
 greatest care, down to the boat, where she was 
 as carefully deposited in the stern. Sydney 
 was most attentive to her in every possible 
 way, and she thanked him with mute and 
 grateful glances. Then, as the gillies pulled 
 away across the loch, Duncan was being 
 instructed as to what he should do when they 
 reached the other side. He was to make off
 
 A RESCUE 24S 
 
 for the inn at his best speed ; Mr. Murray was 
 to dispatch a trap without delay to carry the 
 young lady home. If any one knew where 
 Doctor Douglas — whose parochial duties carried 
 him over a wide extent of country — was to be 
 found, he was to be summoned forthwith. Mrs. 
 Murray was to have bandages and liniments 
 ready. A big fire was to be built up in Miss 
 Hague's room. The most comfortable couch or 
 sofa in the house was to be carried thither, and 
 so forth. 
 
 " Eeally, Mr. Durham," Miss Anne said, with 
 a smile, " you are giving yourself far too much 
 trouble. What is a sprain ! " 
 
 " If you had lived as long as I have," said 
 this ancient and experienced person, " and 
 knocked about as much, you would know what 
 mischief may arise from a sprain. I consider 
 myself responsible for this accident, and I 
 shan't leave anything undone until I see you 
 quite recovered from the effects of it." 
 
 *' You responsible ? " said she, with wide eyes. 
 
 " Yes, certainly," he said. " I should have 
 warned you of those ankle-breaking stones. 
 They're bad enough in summer, as I found 
 when I went hobbling over them ; but in 
 winter, when they are half concealed by snow,
 
 246 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 they are a hundred times worse. And sup- 
 posing I had not happened to come down that 
 way in the hoat — supposing I had not happened 
 to notice your signal ? " 
 
 "I had contemplated that possibility," said 
 she, pleasantly enough; ''and I knew quite 
 well what was before me. I should simply 
 have had to remain there, clinging on to that 
 tree, until dusk fell; and then, Mrs. Murray, 
 getting alarmed, and knowing where I had 
 gone, would have sent some one to look for me. 
 But how fortunate it was that you happened to 
 come fishing down that way." 
 
 "Yes, it was," he said; and then glancing 
 at her with a little diffidence, he confessed the 
 truth. "The fact is, it wasn't entirely the 
 fishing that took me down there — not alto- 
 gether. I went on the ofi'-chance of your 
 wanting to know something about the fort ; or 
 you might be tired, I thought, and might prefer 
 being rowed home." 
 
 " It was very kind of you," she responded, 
 with downcast eyes ; and nothing more was 
 said upon that subject, for they were now 
 nearing the shore. 
 
 As soon as they had landed, Duncan set off 
 at a trot for the inn: but Miss Anne was
 
 A RESCUE 247 
 
 counselled to remain where she was, and, of 
 course, Sydney stopped by the boat to keep her 
 company. He was infinitely more anxious 
 about this injury than she was ; indeed, her 
 cheerfulness convinced him more than ever that 
 women can bear pain with far greater fortitude 
 than men ; even apart from the actual suffering 
 of the moment, she seemed to look forward to 
 the solitary confinement in her own room with 
 perfect equanimity. 
 
 " If the doctor says I must not try to move 
 about for a week or two, I know what I shall 
 do," Miss Anne observed to the young man, to 
 whom she spoke quite frankly and simply. " I 
 shall send for a young lady who was governess 
 to my sister's children for some time, and who 
 has gone as travelling-companion with me on 
 several occasions. She is an exceedingly nice 
 girl, clever, good-humoured, a capital com- 
 panion ; and we shall be able to pass the time 
 somehow, with sewing, reading, chatting, play- 
 ing chess " 
 
 " Oh, do you play chess ? " said he, quickly — 
 so quickly and eagerly that she looked up with 
 a little surprise. Did he expect to be able to 
 dissipate the monotony of the poor invalid's 
 seclusion in that fashion ?
 
 248 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 " I am very fond of it, at all events," she 
 said ; and then she went on and told him a 
 great deal more about Miss Ennerby, who ap- 
 peared to have been much more the young lady's 
 iriend than her paid travelling-companion. 
 
 " For you see, Mr. Durham," she continued, 
 in her frankly communicative way, " if papa 
 goes to Lisbon, I don't know how long he may 
 have to remain. His late partner's widow lives 
 there, and she is a helpless kind of woman, who 
 is always getting into trouble with her two 
 boys ; and papa is supposed to look after all her 
 affairs. So there is a possibility of his not 
 coming back here at all, and in that case he 
 would want me to return to London at once ; 
 and if Miss Ennerby were to come up here now, 
 she could go back with me, and it would be 
 pleasanter for the two of us to be travelling 
 together." 
 
 " Returning to London at once?" he mechani- 
 cally repeated to himself This was no joyful 
 prospect for Mr. Sydney Durham, who had set 
 such store by this new acquaintanceship — this 
 friendship ? — begun in these far northern wilds. 
 It was the very remoteness of the place — it was 
 their isolation from all the rest of the world — • 
 that seemed to set an enduring seal on their
 
 A RESCUE 249 
 
 intimacy. He and she were getting to know 
 each other so well ! And was she to be 
 suddenly spirited away just as this gracious 
 companionship was growing more and more 
 delightful ? 
 
 There was a distant, hushed sound of wheels 
 on the snow. He went a few yards up the 
 bank, so that he could look along the road. 
 
 "Well, this is a stroke of luck!" he exclaimed, 
 as he returned to the boat. " They have found 
 Dr. Douglas at home, and he is coming now 
 in his own pony-chaise. He must just have 
 returned from one of his rounds." 
 
 " Why everything is happening fortunately 
 for me ! " she said, brightly. 
 
 " Oh, do you think so ? " he said, in reply ; 
 but none the less did he wonder — with a voun": 
 man's wonder — at her resolute courao-e and 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 The big, corpulent, good-humoured-looking 
 doctor came tramping down through the snow 
 as soon as Duncan had gone to the pony's head; 
 and, of course, when the examination of the 
 young lady's foot was going forward, Sydney 
 stood aside. But presently he heard that this 
 was nothing but a sprain — no bones were 
 broken ; and when the ankle had been care-
 
 250 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 fully bandaged, the big doctor called upon 
 Peter, who was standing by, to help him to 
 carry the young lady up to the pony-chaise, in 
 which she was soon on her way to Inver-mudal> 
 Sydney and his two gillies returned to the boat; 
 but he did not care about further fishing this 
 afternoon. They pulled away along the loch, 
 picked up his painting implements, landed at 
 the head, and then, with the salmon they had 
 got some time before, they all set out for the 
 inn. 
 
 The doctor had just completed a more tho- 
 rough treatment of the injured limb, and was 
 coming away, when he encountered Sydney. 
 
 " Well, what is the report ? " the younger 
 man asked. 
 
 " I fear it is rather a bad sprain," the doctor 
 said. " But I shall look round again to-morrow 
 morning — on my way to Croick — and see how 
 it looks then. Absolute rest, of course, is the 
 first consideration." 
 
 "Yes; but see here, doctor," Sydney said 
 forthwith, "she tells me that at any moment her 
 father may write to her summoning her to go 
 south at once." 
 
 " Well, then, she can't go south at once," the 
 doctor said, in his easy, good-natured fashion •
 
 A RESCUE 251 
 
 *'no, nor for some time to come, unless she is a 
 very wilful and imprudent young lady, and she 
 does not seem to be that." 
 
 " Have you told her she must not think of 
 going?" the younger man said, rather anxiously. 
 
 " Not I ; I heard nothing about it. But she 
 knows she must not attempt to put her foot to 
 the ground, so she is not likely to try a drive 
 into Lairg and then a railway journey to Lon- 
 don — at least for a while. It's no use playing 
 tricks with a sprained ankle, unless you want 
 to have it come back again and again." 
 
 " How is Mrs. Douglas, doctor ? " was the 
 next question. 
 
 " Yery well indeed, thank ye." 
 
 " And Mrs. Strang ? " 
 
 " First-rate. She and her two children are 
 coming to stay with us in the autumn for a 
 while, for her husband is going over to the 
 States with those American friends of his, to 
 have a look at the country, I suppose." 
 
 But it was not of Mrs. Douglas, nor yet of 
 Mrs. Eonald Strang, that Sydney Durham was 
 thinking at this moment. He was considering 
 the necessity of his seeking out Mrs. Murray. 
 Mrs. Murray was a person of experience and 
 authority. It was for Mrs. Murray now to
 
 252 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 impress on the ingenuous mind of Miss Anne 
 the folly, the madness, nay, the wilful wicked- 
 ness of any young lady who would think of 
 undertaking a railway journey, while there was 
 the remotest chance of her still further damaging 
 an ankle already seriously injured. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 A GAME OF CHESS. 
 
 All that night it blew hard ; such doors as 
 had been left open slammed and banged ; the 
 wind howled in the chimneys ; and in the 
 morning when Sydney, on opening his eyes, 
 perceived a curious glare shining along the 
 ceiling, he knew quite well what had happened 
 — another snow-storm was raging outside. 
 When he went to the window it seemed as if 
 the solitary little inn was more than ever cut 
 off from the rest of the world by this wild 
 bewilderment of snow — snow whirling through 
 the air in gusts and eddies, snow lying thick 
 on the fairy -like trees and on the bits of bushes 
 in the garden, snow turning the broad high- 
 way into a trackless path of white. Beyond 
 that nothing was visible. Clebrig had dis-
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 253 
 
 appeared. Tlie air was obscure with the heavy 
 flakes, that swept hither and thither with the 
 changeful squalls. 
 
 The life of a parish doctor in a sparsely- 
 populated portion of the Highlands is not an 
 enviable one. Here was Dr. Douglas, unable 
 to drive, setting out for Cioick on his pony, 
 and, according to his promise, he called on his 
 way to see how Miss Anne was getting on. 
 When he had visited his patient, he came 
 along to the room in which Sydney was having 
 breakfast. 
 
 " Your young lady friend is in a sad pre- 
 dicament," said he. 
 
 " How, then ? " the young man asked in some 
 alarm. 
 
 " The mail has just brought her a letter 
 from her father," the big doctor said, as he 
 went to the fire, and held out his hands and 
 rubbed them briskly. " He is called away 
 somewhere ; he does not expect to be back 
 here at all. His daughter is to pack up, make 
 sufficient compensation to Mr. ^Murray for 
 leaving his rooms empty, and set off for London 
 at once." 
 
 *' But she can't ! " the young man exclaimed, 
 in dismay.
 
 254 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 *' That's just what I've been telling her," 
 said the doctor, drily. " She can't. "What's 
 more, she'll be a very ill-advised young lady 
 if she attempts anything of the kind for a 
 very considerable time to come. She must 
 have wrenched her foot dreadfully on those 
 stones " 
 
 "And of course you insisted on her not 
 thinking of such a thing ! " Sydney broke in, 
 impetuously. 
 
 " There was no need," Dr. Douglas said, with 
 much good-humour. " She can't go, whether 
 she wishes or not. And there's another reason 
 why she may as well give up all notion of 
 following her father's instructions. If this 
 storm continues, and it looks as if it would, 
 the roads will be impassable. I fancy the mail- 
 car that came through this morning is the last 
 we'll see for some time ; the driver told me 
 there were already deep drifts at Croick. Well, 
 I'll have to take the road. The old mare will 
 have the wind with her getting down to Croick, 
 but she'll have to face a bitter blast coming back 
 to-night — that is, if we do come back to-night. 
 Good morning, Mr. Durham; I fear ye'll have 
 a cold day on the loch." 
 
 "I say," the young man interposed, as he
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 255 
 
 accompanied the doctor to the door, " don't you 
 think it will be something dreadful for Miss 
 Hague to be shut up in that room all by her- 
 self ? Couldn't she be taken into Mrs. Murray's 
 parlour, where she would have the children to 
 talk to, or, if she liked, I would go in now and 
 again and have a chat with her, and try to 
 cheer her up a bit? You know she's never 
 been in the Highlands before, she is not used 
 to the loneliness." 
 
 " I think she would rather stay in her own 
 room," the doctor said, as he tightened the 
 muffler round his throat ; " but she won't be all 
 by herself for long. She has sent off a tele- 
 gram by the mail for some friend of hers — a 
 lady companion, I believe — who will come 
 along at once, and perhaps get through before 
 the roads are blocked. But there would be no 
 harm in your sending in a message of inquiry 
 now and again, just to let her know she was 
 among friends." 
 
 " Oh, of course I will do that ! " Sydney said. 
 " And books — and — and illustrated newspapers 
 — and my portfolio of sketches — perhaps she 
 would like to look at that." 
 
 " I dare say she would," observed the doctor ; 
 but, good-humoured as he was, he did not care to
 
 256 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 converse any longer about this not very serious 
 case, especially as he had the long ride to Croick 
 before him ; so again he bade the younger man 
 good morning, and went forth into the snow. 
 
 To tell the truth, Sydney Durham would 
 very much have preferred to hang about the 
 house all day and invent a series of covert 
 little attentions to be paid to that hapless 
 prisoner; but his gillies would not let him. 
 They maintained that a snowstorm was " chist 
 a gran' time for the salmon ; " so somewhat 
 unwillingly he wrapped up his neck, put on 
 his waterproof, slouched his hat down over his 
 ears, and, accompanied by the gillies, set out 
 for the loch. It did seem a mad undertaking, 
 he had to confess to himself; while the un- 
 pleasantness of it was unmistakable. The snov/ 
 and sleet smote him sharply about the face ; the 
 bitter wind pierced him to the bone ; and ere 
 he had got half-way along the road he was so 
 encrusted with powdered ice that he would have 
 made an admirable presentment of old Father 
 Christmas. Indeed, getting down to the loch, 
 after they had left the highway, was no joke ; 
 for tlie driven snow was now banking itself w^ 
 in wreaths ; and sometimes he stumbled into 
 one of these up to the thighs, while his eyes
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 257 
 
 were so blinded by the sleet that he could with 
 difficulty make out the margin of the frozen 
 burn alongside which he was making his way. 
 Even the gillies had to admit that there might 
 be too much of a snow-storm for salmon-fishing. 
 AVhen at last they reached the loch-side, they 
 found the black water driving by before the 
 gale, so that it was quite hopeless to think of 
 putting out a boat on it. Disconsolately, Sydney 
 sat down on the gunwale, turning his back to 
 the wind, and huddling himself up as best he 
 might. What a picture for a landscape-painter 
 to sit and contemplate ! He could have thrown 
 a stone as far as he could see. There was 
 nothing at all visible but the bit of slaty beach 
 at his feet ; then a space of heath from which 
 the wind was tearing the finely-powdered snow 
 into whirling white smoke ; and beside him the 
 lashing black water, curling and hissing with 
 dirty foam. The vast bulk of Clebrig, that 
 ought to have been right before him, had 
 departed, and in its place was an expanse of 
 dull, cold white, against which the bigger of 
 the falling flakes were opaquely grey. And 
 meanwhile lie was himself becoming more 
 thickly caked with ice, that broke and fell off 
 
 in lumps when he chanced to move. 
 
 s
 
 258 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 The two gillies sate and silently stared at tlie 
 stones at their feet; sometimes they tried to 
 light a pipe. Their master sate and stared at 
 the black and driven water, or amused himself 
 by taking cakes of ice from off his coat. Did 
 he chance to reflect that at that very time he 
 might have been at the Arts Club in Hanover 
 Square, in a comfortable easy-chair before the 
 fire, reading one of Mr. Besant's novels, and 
 knowing that lunch-time would bring in many 
 friends and companions who might be induced 
 to join in a game of pool during the after- 
 noon ? 
 
 " Duncan, this is no use at all ! " he called 
 out, after long and weary watching had given 
 place to blank despair. 
 
 " 'Deed, no mich," said Duncan. 
 
 " If we tried to put the boat on the loch, 
 we'd be driven to the other side in a couple of 
 minutes ! " 
 
 "Ay, chist that," Duncan said, with equa- 
 nimity. 
 
 " I believe the storm is getting worse instead 
 of better ! " 
 
 " I'm thinking that too, sir." 
 
 " Yery well," said Mr. Durham, very slowly, 
 and beginning to shake off the cakes of ice and
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 259 
 
 snow, " I am going home ; you can bring the 
 rods." 
 
 " Ferry well, sir." 
 
 The storm did not abate all that afternoon ; 
 but next morning the wind had lessened ; and 
 during the following day or two there were 
 bursts of clear sky and sunlight that lit up the 
 silent white world and caused Loch Naver to 
 shine as with a summer blue. During all this 
 time Sydney had not ceased to keep up commu- 
 nication with the forlorn imprisoned damsel, his 
 confidential agent and go-between being the 
 Highland lass Nelly. Everything that constant 
 thoughtfulness could suggest was done for the 
 poor lone prisoner ; and many were the messages 
 of gratitude that Nelly had to bring back to 
 him in return. Once, indeed, he had ventured 
 into the room himself, and was not rebuked for 
 his temerity. The occasion was this. He had 
 with him a small portfolio of sketches he had 
 made while travelling in County Galway ; and 
 when he had sent her all the books and maga- 
 zines and illustrated papers he could lay his 
 hands on, he thought it might amuse her to 
 look over this little collection of painter's]memo- 
 randa. But when he brought down this port- 
 folio from among his other traps, and rang the 
 
 s 2
 
 26o A SNOIV IDYLL 
 
 bell for Nelly to take it in to the young lady, 
 there was no answer to the summons ; then he 
 remembered he had seen Nelly go up the road a 
 few minutes before, apparently on her way to 
 the keeper's cottage; accordingly he took the 
 sketches in his hand, and made bold to carry 
 them along himself. He knew the room well 
 enough — it used to be his own private parlour. 
 He knocked at the door. " Come in," said a 
 voice that he recognised ; the next moment he 
 caught sight of Miss Anne, who was lying on a 
 sofa, her head propped up, reading. She looked 
 up quickly — and certainly with a little surprise. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Hague," said he^ " I can't find 
 Nelly about — and I've got a portfolio of sketches 
 here that I thought you might care to look 
 over — shall I leave them with you ? " 
 
 " Oh, thank you very much," said she, most 
 pleasantly. " But indeed you have been far 
 too kind, Mr. Durham. I hope Nelly has told 
 you how grateful I am to you for thinking of 
 me. 
 
 " Surely it was the very least that any one 
 could do," said he, while he still remained 
 standing at the door, with his hand on the 
 handle, " considering how you are shut up here 
 alone, without a single friend or accpaintance."
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 261 
 
 " Why, I have a whole houseful of friends 
 around me ! " said Miss Anne, in her cheerful 
 fashion. " How could I be more comfortable ? 
 Nelly keeps a blazing fire always burning; 
 Mrs. Murray looks in from time to time to see 
 how I am getting on ; and here you have been 
 sending me things continually, and thinking of 
 me, until I was quite ashamed to bo so much 
 trouble." 
 
 " I wish I could do more," said he, as he 
 went forward and put the portfolio on the table, 
 and then retreated to the door again. " I'll 
 leave them for j^ou to look over at your leisure. 
 I'm afraid you'll find them very rough things — 
 mere jottings, in fact — but the costumes are 
 picturesque — the red homespun of the Galway 
 women is invaluable in a landscape." He 
 paused for a second, not quite knowing how to 
 escape from this situation, or whether he should 
 try to escape, or whether he had properly 
 expressed sympathy with this poor prisoner. 
 " If there's anything else," he said in a sort of 
 desperation, "you can think of what I can get 
 for you, I wish you would send word by Nelly." 
 
 " Thank you so much ! " said she, and her 
 e3^es expressed as much as her words. " After 
 to-day I hope to be a little less helpless — lliat
 
 262 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 is to say, if Miss Ennerby comes to-morrow. 
 How are the roads now, Mr. Durham ? Have 
 you heard ? " 
 
 " Well, you know," said he, " for the last two 
 or three days the mail-cars haven't been run- 
 ning; they have brought the bags on horse- 
 back. I fancy there are bad drifts about 
 Croick." 
 
 " I know that Bess will get through if any- 
 body can," Miss Hague said, with a smile. 
 " She is a most indomitable traveller." 
 
 There was a pause of half a second. 
 
 " Don't be in any hurry to return the 
 sketches," he said. " Good afternoon, Miss 
 Hague ! " 
 
 " Good afternoon ! — it is so very kind of 
 you ! " was her reply, as he gently shut the 
 door behind him. 
 
 And presently he was in his own room, a 
 little breathless and bewildered, and eagerly 
 going over every incident and phrase of this 
 momentous interview. No, he convinced him- 
 self, he had not been properly sympathetic at 
 all. He had blundered and stumbled along like 
 a helpless fool. Why had he not considered 
 beforehand what he should say ? He had not 
 even asked how the injured foot was getting
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 263 
 
 on. He had not told her how anxious he was 
 to be of service to her. He had not even hinted 
 that all the day long he was thinking of how 
 he might lessen the rigour of her captivity. 
 What would she think of him — standing 
 awkward and embarrassed at the door, unable 
 to offer a single word of condolence to the poor 
 invalid ? 
 
 And then he strove to reassure himself. It 
 had never occurred to him to treat her as an 
 invalid because she was far from having the 
 appearance of one. He had never seen her 
 look more bright, happy, and cheerful : what 
 was there in her condition to demand any 
 formal expression of sympathy ? And as for 
 his anxious desire to be of service to her, surely 
 she would understand all that ? Surely she did 
 understand, or what was the meaning of the 
 gratitude so plainly written in her expressive 
 eyes ? No ; he was rather glad he had taken 
 the occasion of Nelly's absence to make that 
 little visit. It was something to have seen 
 Miss Anne again, to have spoken with her, to 
 have the vision of her he carried about in his 
 mind corrected and drawn with firmer outlines 
 and warmer touches of colour. Her face had 
 been in shadow, it is true ; but the back of her
 
 264 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 bead was towards the window ; and the glare 
 coming from the snow-world outside made a 
 wonder of her hair — a kind of aureole, as it 
 were. And even in the shadow her eyes could 
 tell their tale. 
 
 This young man was getting into a bad way. 
 He abandoned his salmon-fishing altogether; 
 he neglected to seek for subjects for his brush ; 
 he hung about the inn, devising little messages 
 and attentions that would keep him in Miss 
 Anne's mind. And thus it was that, on the 
 day following the interview described above, 
 when a light Stanhope phaeton drove up to the 
 door, he was the only one in the house to notice 
 its arrival. This was an unusual hour; no one 
 was expecting any vehiele : and the phaeton 
 had come noiselessly through the snow. But 
 when Sydney perceived that the new-comer was 
 a lady, he guessed that this was Miss Ennerby, 
 and instantly he snatched up his cap and went 
 to the door. She was just alighting from the 
 phaeton : the glimpse he got of her showed a 
 rather nice-looking young woman of about 
 eight-and-twenty, with a grave face that was 
 also refined and pleasant, and alert grey eyes. 
 
 *' Miss Ennerby ? " he said, raising his cap. 
 
 She turned with a quick look.
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 265 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " The landlord will be here presently, no 
 doubt," said Sydney, in his politest manner: 
 " and if you like I will show you Miss Hague's 
 room at once — you must be very cold. The 
 man will bring in your things." 
 
 " Thank you," said she ; and without more 
 ado she followed him away along the passages 
 leading to the wing of the inn. 
 
 " I suppose you had some difficulty in getting 
 through ? " he ventured to ask. 
 
 " Indeed, we had," she said. *' "We had to 
 leave the road again and again, and the jolting 
 over the moorland was pretty rough." 
 
 " Miss Hague said if any one could get 
 through, you would," said this astute young 
 man, who had his reasons for wishing to 
 ingratiate himself with " Bess." Then he tapped 
 at the door ; " Come in ! " was the answer ; 
 and when he had shown Miss Ennerby into 
 the room, he retired discreetly, without any 
 further intervention. 
 
 In the afternoon, to his surprise, and delight, 
 he received a visit from Miss Ennerby. He 
 was standing at the window of his room, look- 
 ing out on the white landscape, and smoking ; 
 but very quickly did he whip that pipe away
 
 266 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 when he saw who this was who had come to 
 the door. 
 
 " Miss Hague's compliments," said " Bess," 
 and she seemed to regard the young man with 
 some kind of interest, " and would you be kind 
 enough to tell her whether there is any chance 
 of her getting a chess-board and chess-men, if 
 she sent in to Lairg by the letter-carrier to- 
 morrow morning ? " 
 
 He paused for a moment. 
 
 " Lairg?" said he. "They keep most things 
 there, but not chess-men, I fancy. However, 
 that is of no account ; will you tell Miss Hague, 
 with my compliments, that I shall get her 
 something that will do instead — in the course 
 of an hour or so ? " 
 
 Miss Ennerby thanked him and withdrew; 
 and forthwith he set to work to improvise the 
 materials for a game of chess. He got a sheet 
 of Bristol board about double the size of a chess- 
 board ; and that he divided into the proper 
 number of squares, painting each alternate one 
 a deep lilac. He got another sheet, and cut 
 that into the number of pieces required ; and 
 then he proceeded to sketch, in colour, on each 
 bit of board, the piece it represented — kings, 
 queens, bishops, knights, and castles, along
 
 A GAME OF CHESS 267 
 
 with the humble necessary pawns — the one set 
 being rose-red, the other pale orange. And 
 when all this was done, he did not ring for 
 Nelly ; he took the whole apparatus with him, 
 and went along the passage, and presented 
 himself at Miss Hague's room. 
 
 Miss Hague .and her companion had just 
 been having tea ; a small table was drawn in 
 by the side of the couch. 
 
 " I've got a kind of make-shift here," said he. 
 " I don't know whether it will do ; perhaps it 
 will be better than nothing." 
 
 Miss Ennerby removed the tea-things ; 
 Sydney displayed his improvised chess-board 
 and his coloured pieces ; and Miss Anne was 
 quite charmed. 
 
 " Why," she said, " you must be a chess- 
 player yourself, or you couldn't have drawn 
 the pieces so well." 
 
 There was a pause. Which of them was 
 going to challenge the other to play ? They 
 both meant the same thing; but who was to 
 say it ? " Bess " said it. 
 
 " You know. Miss Anne," she put in, " you 
 always beat me ; and it's no fun for either you 
 or me. Perhaps, you won't find it so easy with 
 Mr. Durham."
 
 268 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 " Oh, you will beat me easily," Sydney said 
 to Miss Anne, as lie rather nervously proceeded 
 to draw in a chair ; " but then I don't mind 
 being beaten." 
 
 He didn't mind being beaten ! Why, he 
 wanted to be beaten ! He wanted to be 
 pounded, thrashed, exterminated — anything that 
 would give her pleasure. He would have made 
 all her pawns queens ; he would have lent to 
 her bishops the leaping powers of knights ; he 
 would have allowed her to castle out of check 
 — anything, everything, as long as he was to 
 have the entrancement of sitting near her — 
 only this trumpery little table between them — 
 so near that if a single hair had got out of its 
 place on her smooth, pale forehead, he could 
 have noticed it. What did he care about 
 bishops and castles, when he could look at her 
 small white hand moving over the board — a 
 small white hand innocent of any ring ! He 
 forgot the existence of " Bess." She was in 
 the room, doubtless, somewhere. Perhaps she 
 was sewing ; perhaps she was looking out of 
 the window at the wild and wintry landscape, 
 and wondering what could have brought any 
 decent Christian folk to such a place. Mean- 
 while, Sydney was skilfully marshalling his
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 269 
 
 forces so as to secure his own defeat, until a 
 protest from Miss Anne — " Mr. Durham, what 
 are you doing ? Look at your queen ! " warned 
 him that he must not play the traitor in too 
 open a manner Finally ho was completely 
 conquered, to his own exceeding joy ; for im- 
 mediately he said he must have his revenge, 
 and to that she cheerfully assented. The result 
 was that they played right on until dinner-time, 
 when the arrival of the fair-haired Nelly drove 
 him forth from this paradise to his own solitary 
 httle room. 
 
 This was but a beginning , Miss Ennerby, 
 who had clear and shrewd grey eyes, thought 
 she could foresee the end. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR. 
 
 Sunday morning came and brought him a 
 message from Miss Anne : would Mr. Durham 
 be so kind as to come along to her room for a 
 few minutes — she wished to beg a favour from 
 him ? Mr. Durham obeyed the summons with 
 the most joyful alacrity : the favour was already 
 granted, no matter what it might be.
 
 270 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 He found Miss Anne, as usual, propped up 
 on the sofa ; Miss Ennerby had risen from her 
 book and gone to the window. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Durham," the quasi-invalid said, 
 after morning greetings had been exchanged, 
 " I know we take up far too much of your time 
 — I am always reproaching myself with it — and 
 then selfishly forgetting the very next minute. 
 However, to-day is different ; to-day you can't 
 go either painting or fishing ; and so I am 
 going to ask you to do me a favour. Miss 
 Ennerby hasn't been out of the house since she 
 came up, and of course that's very bad for her, 
 never to be out in the fresh air. I fancy she is 
 afraid of this wild place, and daren't venture 
 away from the inn by herself. Mr. Durham, 
 would you be so kind as to take her out and 
 show her something of the neighbourhood ? " 
 I shall be delighted," said he forthwith. 
 Here, Bess," the young lady called. " Put 
 on your things ; and Mr. Durham will take you 
 down to the bridge over the Mudal and show 
 you the various roads, so that at any time you 
 may go for a walk without losing yourself on 
 the moor." 
 
 " But to leave you alone, Miss Anne ? " 
 
 aid " Bess," by way of mild protest. 

 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 271 
 
 " I want to be left alone," the young lady 
 rejoined, peremptorily ; and tliat settled the 
 matter : Miss Ennerby departed to get her 
 bonnet and nlster, while Sydney went to wait 
 for her at the door of the inn. 
 
 At first, when these two set forth, ' Bess ' 
 seemed a little bit shy ; and a kind of occult, 
 demure amusement appeared to hover about her 
 face, as if she were conscious that this good- 
 looking and pleasant-tempered young man 
 would much rather be walking with the mis- 
 tress than with the maid. But Sydney paid 
 no heed to such things ; he was rejoiced to have 
 an opportunity of a long and confidential chat 
 with one who was so intimately acquainted 
 with Miss Anne ; for it need hardly be said 
 that that was the topic they simultaneously hit 
 on, before they had left the inn-door a dozen 
 vards behind them. And what did he not hear 
 of Miss Anne's gentleness and kindness, her 
 tolerance of other peojDle's irascibility, her good- 
 humour in travelling, her thoughtfulness and 
 consideration for those around her, her indo- 
 mitable cheerfulness and courage ? They walked 
 away down to the Mudal — over the hard, crisp 
 snow — on this brilliant sunlit morning — and 
 still ' Bess ' was talking of Miss Anne, who
 
 272 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 seemed to be to her mucb. more of a friend than 
 an employer ; they came to the point at whicli 
 the roads diverge to Betty-hill, to Tongue, and 
 to Durness, and still Miss Anne, and her sweet 
 temper, and her generous disposition, and all 
 her other wonderful qualities were being eulo- 
 gised ; as they turned to skirt the shores of 
 Loch Naver, this faithful and loyal companion, 
 admirer, and panegyrist was true to her self- 
 imposed task. But here something wholly un- 
 expected intervened. Sydney happened to 
 glance up towards the north. 
 
 " Miss Ennerby," said he, '' you'd better pull 
 the hood of your ulster over your head : we 
 shall be catching it presently." 
 
 The world seemed to darken around them. 
 Then came a few whirling flakes ; the wind 
 rose and still rose ; presently the snow came 
 driving on in blinding gusts and squalls, until 
 they could see no further than a few yards 
 from where they were standing. They did not 
 attempt to move ; for it had sometimes been 
 difficult to make out the road, on which there 
 was not a single foot-track ; they merely stood 
 with their backs to the hurricane from the 
 north, knowing that it would not be of long 
 duration. And then, gradually, the landscape
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 273 
 
 appeared to widen out ; the ^ heavens grew 
 clearer ; quite suddenly, through the still flying 
 flakes, they beheld a far hill-slope shining a 
 golden-white against the pale azure sky ; and 
 then again the horizon extended still further 
 and further and further, until all the old familiar 
 landmarks were visible — the rounded summit 
 of Ben Loyal, the distant peaks and shoulders 
 of Ben Hope and Ben Hee. The warm sun- 
 light was abroad again ; the air was sweet and 
 keen ; out there the wide waters of Loch Naver 
 were shining a brilliant blue. 
 
 " I never knew that snow was black," she 
 said. 
 
 " Turner knew it," said he. " Don't you 
 remember ' Hannibal crossing the Alps ? ' But 
 when once the black snow-clouds have passed 
 over, look how they change — look at them over 
 there — where Ben Clebrig has got hold of them, 
 and is twisting them about and mixing up 
 sunlight w4th them — I wonder who except 
 Turner would dare to paint thatr 
 
 " But you showed Miss Hague a beautiful 
 snow-piece the other afternoon," his companion 
 said. " Wasn't that painted here ? — I thought 
 I recognised the mountains." 
 
 " Oh, yes," he made answer ; but he never 
 
 T
 
 274 A SNOIV IDYLL 
 
 would have any talk about liis own work ; lie 
 immediately shifted the conversation by calling 
 her attention to a heron that had just risen 
 from the edge of the loch, his long legs still 
 dangling in the air. 
 
 There was, however, one subject on which 
 he was eager and anxious to approach Miss 
 Ennerby ; though a certain fear of betraying 
 himself bade him refrain. Miss Anne wore 
 no engagement-ring; what conclusion might 
 be drawn from that ? And at last, in a round- 
 about way, he managed to get the information 
 he desired. 
 
 "I suppose," said -iO, in an off-hand kind of 
 fashion, " that a girl so accomplished, and 
 pretty, and amiable as Miss Hague is, must 
 have had many admirers ? " 
 
 " Plenty," said Miss Anne's friend, with a 
 bit of a laugh. 
 
 The answer was not to his liking ; but "Bess" 
 continued, with a smile in her clear grey 
 eves — 
 
 " There were two gentlemen on the steamer 
 we came home in — they were friends, who had 
 been away tiger-shooting in India, and they 
 were coming home too — well, they both of 
 them paid Miss Anne a good deal of attention ;
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 275 
 
 and at last it came to an open quarrel between 
 tliem. I think it was something about sitting 
 next her at dinner. At all events, they never 
 spoke to each other after we left Port Said ; 
 and they parted at Plymouth without a word." 
 
 " Fools ! " said he, abruptly. 
 
 " The second officer was about as bad as 
 any of them," continued Miss Ennerby, com- 
 placently, and little thinking what deadly 
 wounds she was dealing. " When he was on 
 duty on the bridge, and when he saw her 
 walking up and down the deck with anybody 
 else, he used to glare at them until I wondered 
 whether he wouldn't try to run us on to a rock 
 somewhere and smash the vessel to bits. The 
 nie-ht we had the concert and ball — comino- 
 along the Mediterranean — I had to get her to 
 promise me that she wouldn't dance with any 
 one — not with any one of them : I thought 
 there would be pistol-shooting on deck next 
 morning before we were out of our cabins. 
 I'm sure it was none of her fault. She did 
 nothing to encourage them. But a pretty 
 woman on board ship always makes mischief 
 among the men." 
 
 " Oh, of course," said he, rather breathlessly, 
 " of course she was not responsible — no doubt 
 
 T 2
 
 276 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 Miss Hague had some one else to think of-^ 
 I suppose she is engaged ? " 
 
 "Oh, no, she is not," said Miss Ennerby, 
 who knew well enough what had prompted 
 this question. 
 
 " Oh, she is not engaged ? " he repeated, 
 quickly. 
 
 And then it was that " Bess," who was really 
 a kind and sympathetic person, as well as a 
 shrewd and sagacious young woman, and who 
 had seen quite clearly how affairs were tending 
 at the inn, proceeded to drop a few words of 
 
 warnnig. 
 
 " No, she is not engaged ; and she is not 
 likely to be, until some great opportunity 
 presents itself, that is, if her papa has his 
 way, I suppose, Mr. Durham," she continued, 
 venturing to glance at the young man, " if 
 you had much talk with Mr. Hague when he 
 was here, I dare say you noticed what a 
 fondness he has for people who are well known 
 — who are talked about — distinguished in any 
 way ; and of course he has a father's estimate 
 of the value of his daughter ; and I have no 
 doubt he means Miss Anne, if she marries at 
 all, to marry some very well-connected or 
 prominent person. His other daughter married
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 277 
 
 the Chief Justice of the Arawayan IsUiiids; 
 and although that means banishment, with not 
 much of a salary thrown in, still she's Lady 
 Hendrick. I suppose you've heard Mr. Hague 
 talk about Sir Thomas ? " she asked, with a 
 demure smile. 
 
 "Yes, I have; though I was not aware of 
 the relationship," said he ; but, alas ! his mind 
 was running on other things — he was thinking 
 of the noble or distinguished person for whom 
 Miss Anne was destined, and wondering what 
 were her own views on that matter. 
 
 Presently his companion said — 
 
 "I think we ought to turn now, Mr. Dur- 
 ham; we must be a long way from the inn. 
 Don't you find the glare of the sunlight on the 
 snow very bewildering ? Sometimes, if I look 
 long at it, it seems to me quite pink ; and then, 
 if I shut my eyes, my eyelids are of the most 
 brilliant grass green." 
 
 " Some of the shepherds about here are com- 
 pelled to wear snow-spectacles," said he ; but 
 he was still thinking of the resplendent suitor 
 who was coming along to carry off Miss Anne. 
 
 However, there was compensation for him. 
 and a relief from these gloomy fancies, when 
 he returned to the inn ; for of course, when he
 
 278 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 had to deliver up liis charge, he went with her 
 into the room where Miss Hague was reading ; 
 and Miss Hague was so good as to ask him to 
 be seated, while "Bess" related her adventures 
 of the morning. And then, as it chanced, there 
 was a tap at the door ; and here was Nelly 
 bringing in the luncheon-things. This natu- 
 rally was the signal for his departure ; and yet 
 it must have seemed hard to all three of them 
 that he should be ordered out just after he had 
 devoted the whole morning to taking Miss 
 Hague's friend and companion for a long walk. 
 As he rose to go, Miss Anne glanced quickly 
 towards " Bess " — who was discreetly blind and 
 oblivious — and then towards the young man 
 himself. 
 
 " Mr. Durham," said she, without further 
 hesitation, " won't you stay and have lunch 
 with us ? " 
 
 " If I may," he said ; and then, before he 
 knew where he was, Nelly had whipped along 
 and brought back additional knives and plates 
 and forks, and behold ! here he was established 
 at the head of this small table, the master of 
 the feast, as it were. And when he had carved 
 for his two companions, little, indeed, was the 
 care he bestowed upon himself. He could eat
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 279 
 
 cold beef and pickles any day in tlie week when 
 lie was alone ; this occasion was far too precious 
 to be wasted on food and drink. Even that 
 resplendent and overbearing suitor who was 
 coming to carry off this precious prize was ibr 
 the moment forgotten. There were these three, 
 a familiar and gay and friendly little party, 
 cut off from all the rest of the universe by the 
 snow, shut in by themselves, with no one to 
 interfere with them, or put cold restraint upon 
 their mutual confidences. And Miss Anne was 
 so kind as to bewail his lone and solitary con- 
 dition, which, she said, was far worse than her 
 own, especially since " Bess " had arrived. 
 
 " Women are used to idle hours," said she, 
 " and don't mind, if they have a book. But a 
 man wants a definite occupation ; and it must 
 be so hard on you not to find an3^thing suitable 
 for your work " 
 
 " I am going to have a definite occupation 
 anyway to-morrow," said he. " "Whatever the 
 weather is, I must try the loch for a salmon. 
 You haven't had fish for dinner for three days." 
 
 '' Who told you that ? " 
 
 " Nelly." 
 
 " Nelly mustn't reveal state secrets." 
 
 " I suppose she knows I am thankful to
 
 28o A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 hear the sound of a human voice up in this 
 place," said he (which may or may not have 
 been a hint). " Oh, but I'm not so very lonely 
 now, I have secured a companion — a young 
 collie — Gypsy, I call him — and as he is a 
 strayed wanderer from somewhere or other, I 
 have adopted him and taken possession of him. 
 And Gyp is very grateful, I think. I have 
 been watching and studying him ever since I 
 came here ; and anything more pathetic you 
 can't imagine than the piteous efforts that dog 
 made to get himself recognised as a legitimate 
 dog. When a shepherd called at the inn and 
 left his collies outside, Gyp would go np and 
 make almost slavish appeals to be admitted of 
 their company ; and he generally won their 
 friendship, for he is a kindly and affectionate 
 beast ; and then when the shepherd came out, 
 away went Gyp at his heels, like the others, 
 and very proud of the post. Of course, as soon 
 as the shepherd discovered the interloper, there 
 was a growl and the threat of a kick, and back 
 came Gyp to the inn, downcast and sorrowful. 
 Then again, when the mail-car was running, 
 Gyp was all eagerness and business when it 
 was setting out — pretending that he was part 
 and parcel of the whole equipage — very excited
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 281 
 
 lie used to get, running about in front of the 
 horses, and greeting every passenger by a wag 
 of liis tail ; then, when the car left, away lie 
 would go after it, trotting busily through the 
 snow, and looking up for a word of encourage- 
 ment. He never got it, of course. He would 
 go for half a mile or more ; and, if no one spoke 
 to him, he would gradually lag behind, and at 
 last turn and come away home in the deepest 
 sadness. A clever dog, too," continued the 
 young man, who was all for talking and none 
 for eating on this joyous occasion. " I've often 
 seen him gather the fowls in the farmyard to- 
 gether, just as a sheep-dog gathers sheep ; and 
 when he had got them collected in a perfect 
 circle — whether it was instinct or imitation, I 
 don't know — he would look to the inn and wag 
 his tail ; as plainly as possible he was saying, 
 'Now just see this — could any collie get sheep 
 together better than that ? — and yet you won't 
 employ me for anything.' I'm afraid if Mrs. 
 Murray had caught him, though, he would have 
 had a stone or a peat shied at him — for, of 
 course, he kept the fowls from feeding." 
 
 Now if Gyp was in anyway indebted to his 
 master for having adopted him he amply repaid 
 the obligation this afternoon, for he was the
 
 2S2 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 means of getting Mr. Durham invited to five 
 o'clock tea. Luncheon over, these three people 
 chatted and chatted (it seemed so snug and com- 
 fortable for them to be together in this remote 
 little place, isolated from the rest of the country 
 by these great breadths of snow) until some 
 chance suggestion was made that the piteously- 
 petitioning collie should be produced. And 
 then, when Gyp had been brought along to the 
 parlour, and much be-petted, that also helped 
 to pass the time ; until here was Nelly with the 
 tea-things ! Of course Sydney was asked to 
 stay ; and of course he stayed ; he could have 
 wished it to snow for ever, and that the Arts 
 Club might knoAv him no more. 
 
 But lartrer events were to follow. When 
 dusk and the bringing in of the lamps drove 
 him (for very shame's sake) from this beloved 
 apartment, what must " Bess " do but get up 
 and say — 
 
 " Mr. Durham, do I understand from you 
 that you occupy the public-room of the inn ? " 
 
 " Yes," said he, " I do at present." 
 
 " Don't you think it would be more comfort- 
 able, seeing that we are wrecked on this desolate 
 island, if we all dined together ? " she asked. 
 " Would you mind our invading your premises ?
 
 AN AIDER AND ABETTOR 283 
 
 Nelly and I could carry Miss Hague in — ot 
 course there's a sofa. Wouldn't it be more 
 sensible ? — if you didn't mind the intrusion." 
 
 Now this was distinctly wrong on the part of 
 Miss Ennerby, if she was aware of Mr. Hague's 
 intentions with reQ,"ard to the future of his 
 daughter, and if she perceived, as she must have 
 perceived, how matters were tending between 
 these two thus thrown together in this remote 
 wilderness. But the young artist was very 
 amiable and friendly ; and besides, he was 
 good-looking, which counts for something ; and 
 " Bess " was a sympathetic kind of creature. 
 As for Sydney Durham, it is to be imagined 
 that he did not treat this proposed intrusion 
 with any kind of resentment. On the contrary, 
 he busied himself in the short interval with all 
 kinds of contrivances to make the so-called 
 public room as bright and cheerful as might be 
 for the reception of Miss Anne. He had a 
 mighty fire built up, regardless of the cost of 
 peats ; he had two lamps brought in ; he had a 
 small, low table placed by the side of the sofa. 
 Knowing the shyness of women-folk about 
 ordering wine at an inn, he attended to tliat 
 also — and he was safe at Inver-mudal. And 
 then he awaited his guest.
 
 284 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 No ; it was most culpable of " Bess " — if she 
 had any regard for the designs of Mr. Hague 
 — to have made that suggestion ; for the young 
 folk found this initial evening so delightful 
 that thereafter the three of them invariably 
 dined together, to say nothing of the mid-day 
 luncheons and the chess-playing in the after- 
 noon. What had become of the artist's ambi- 
 tion ? — what of the salmon-slayer's keen desire ? 
 Well, everythiug was put down to those wild 
 snow-storms that were whirling over Suther- 
 landshire just at this time ; and meanwhile the 
 two young people were getting to know each 
 other — and each other's history, and education, 
 and opinions, and hopes — as intimately as if 
 they had together come on a voyage round the 
 Cape. 
 
 CHAPTER yn. 
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING. 
 
 The wild weather continued. Sometimes, for 
 days together, the whole outer world would be 
 invisible by reason of this universal white smoke, 
 save for a few spectral arms of trees — faint,
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING 28$ 
 
 gliostly, unsubstantial tilings, half looming 
 through the whirling maze of snow and sleet. 
 The grouse that had paired in the previous 
 month had packed again : occasionally, when 
 the horizon widened out a little, a broad cloud 
 of some two or three hundred of them could be 
 seen whirring across the marshy swamp down 
 by the Mudal. The red-deer had descended 
 from the heights, driven by hunger to the 
 shores of the loch. Once, by the aid of a glass, 
 Miss Anne made out a hind and her calf that 
 were quietly feeding, or trying to feed, within 
 a dozen yards of the Betty-hill road. Sheep 
 that had prematurely been sent up into the 
 hio-h reo-ions had a sorrowful time of it; the 
 twigs of the taller heather, protruding through 
 the snow, was about all the grazing they could 
 get. Spring it nominally was, but it looked 
 more like midwinter. 
 
 Not that it mattered very much to the three 
 Eno'lish stran2:ers at the inn. Miss Anne was 
 perforce a prisoner, and the other two were 
 quite content to keep her company. Even 
 when a cessation of the snow and a bright 
 morning took Sydney Durham away sketching 
 or salmon-fishing during the day, he was 
 always back for afternoon tea with these two
 
 286 A SNOIV IDYLL 
 
 friends. Then he and Miss Anne played chess 
 till dinner-time. Dinner they had together in 
 the public room ; and a very merry and 
 vivacious little party they formed. Thereafter 
 Miss Ennerby generally retired into a book, 
 leaving the two others to a long, rambling chat 
 by the peat fire. Of what did they not talk 
 during these snug and pleasant evenings — 
 having the experiences of two lives to com- 
 pare ? And what an interest each took in the 
 other's adventures ; and how anxious they were 
 to find out each other's opinion on even the 
 most trivial subject ! It seemed as if these 
 after-dinner hours were never long enough for 
 their confessions and confidences. " Can it be 
 so late as that?" was the usual exclamation 
 when Miss Anne rose to take her leave. 
 
 But of course the end of this halcyon period 
 was approaching. One evening, as they sate 
 by the fire, like a youthful Darby and Joan 
 ("Bess" was, as usual, plunged in her book), 
 Miss Anne said to him, almost with a touch of 
 sadness — 
 
 " It will be strano'e to look back on all this 
 time. It seems to have been so interesting and 
 pleasant and delightful, in spite of the rough 
 weather. It is quite a new experience for mo
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING 287 
 
 — living in a distant little inn, and surrounded 
 by nothing but moorlands and hills." 
 
 " You mustn't think it is always like this in 
 the spring here," said he, repeating a former 
 warning, " The usual drawback of Suthcr- 
 landshire in the spring is the long-continued 
 iine weather — that dries up all the rivers and 
 lowers the lochs." 
 
 " I am afraid I shall have to leave," she said, 
 "before I can see Sutherlandshire in beautiful 
 weather." 
 
 " You leaving ? " he exclaimed. " Why ? 
 "When? Surely you cannot be so foolish as 
 to think of such a thing! There's nothing 
 you should give such an abundance of time 
 to as a bad sprain, if you want a thorougli 
 recovery." 
 
 "Mr. Durham," she said, with a good- 
 humoured smile, " you don't think I have 
 remained here all this while merely on account 
 of a sprain ? You see that I can get about 
 a little ; Dr. Douglas told me last week that I 
 could go south at any time, provided I took a 
 little care." 
 
 " Wliy run any risk ? " said he, warmly. 
 " What is the advantao-e ? " 
 
 "Well, I am not called upon to make the
 
 288 A SNO IV IDYLL 
 
 experiment just at present," she continued. 
 " The fact is, my father has still a fancy for 
 trying the salmon-fishing, if only he could get 
 those affairs in Lisbon satisfactorily settled. 
 One day he writes telling me that I may look 
 forward to leaving almost at once, the next he 
 says I am to remain, just in case he may be 
 able to come here for a fortnight. Of course 
 he knows that Bess is with me ; and that it is 
 of no consequence how long I have to stay. I 
 am sure / am in no hurry to leave ; I have 
 found being shut up in the snow-storm delight- 
 ful ; but it is all owing to you, Mr. Durham, 
 and your kindness." 
 
 He paid no heed to the pretty compliment : 
 his startled thoughts were far away. 
 
 " I hope, Miss Anne," said he, after a minute's 
 silence, " that when I come to London you will 
 let me call and see you sometimes." 
 
 She lowered her eyes quickly, and there was 
 some embarrassment in her answer. 
 
 " We have no regular house in London," she 
 said, evasively. " Before we came here we were 
 staying for some time with my uncle, down 
 near Bristol." 
 
 " Yes, but you must be coming to London 
 occasionally," he responded, " especially if your
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING 289 
 
 father is going to take a house there. And 
 you will stay at an hotel, of course." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " that is how we have done 
 hitherto. But papa was not quite satisfied with 
 the last one ; he talked of making a change. 
 No doubt," she added, still with her eyes cast 
 down, "you will see papa in London, and he 
 will tell you where we are." 
 
 Long after Miss Anno had loft that night 
 Sydney sat before the fire, pondering over the 
 curious reserve with which she had met his 
 proposal that he sliould come and see her in 
 London. Did she wish the familiar and 
 intimate friendship that had been assiduously 
 cultivated here in these wilds to revert to a 
 mere distant acquaintance in the south ? Nay, 
 she must have known that he was cherishino- 
 other and far more daring hopes. Was this a 
 hint to him that dreams that might be toyed 
 with in these romantic solitudes must', be 
 excluded from the busy world to which they 
 were both about to return ? And then he 
 recurred to Miss Ennerby's warnings as to j\Ir. 
 Hague's idea of the future of his only un- 
 married daughter. Was Miss Anne cognisant 
 of his plans ? — did slie give her assent to them ? 
 — was it only gentle consideration that caused 
 
 u
 
 -Qo A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 her now to intimate to liim that henceforth he 
 must find any acquaintanceship between him 
 and her something to be settled and defined by 
 her father ? 
 
 He did not sleep much that night ; and when 
 the morning broke fair and blue-skied, with a 
 new feeling of warmth in the air, that also 
 seemed to confirm his fears. Here was the end 
 of the snow- time approaching ; and here the 
 end of the happy days and weeks that he and 
 she had spent together, isolated from all the 
 rest of the world. After breakfast he went 
 down to the loch. It was a clear, calm, voice- 
 less day ; the water so smooth that the broad 
 reflections of the snow were broken only by 
 the ripples caused by the boat and the oars — ■ 
 ripples that flashed a sudden blue across the 
 shining white. But he was not thinking much 
 of either painting or of fishing ; he was think- 
 ing only of Miss Anne's going away, and of 
 the abrupt conclusion of the simple little idyll 
 of friendship — or more than friendship ? — that 
 had sung itself into existence in these still 
 solitudes. How could he let her go without 
 speaking — without hinting to her of the tender 
 aspirations he had formed ? At one time, 
 indeed, he had been vain enough to fancy that
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING 291 
 
 she herself might be looking forward to some 
 such confession. At any rate, she could hardly 
 rebuke him, or be offended by his untoward 
 boldness ; for surely it was nothing but the 
 natural result of the marked encourao'ement 
 (which might, alas ! have only been prompted 
 by kindness) that she had bestowed on him 
 during all those happy hours and days. 
 
 At lunch-time he was still in the same per- 
 turbed frame of mind, notwithstanding that a 
 beautiful, clean-run, silvery fish of fourteen 
 pounds weight lay beside him on the snow. 
 Was he to peril his chances by a premature 
 avowal ? Or, or the other hand, was he to let 
 her slip away from him — to be lost in the crowd 
 of London — to have their close companionship 
 in the far north become a thing of memory 
 only, and not a binding tie? Sometimes he 
 thought he would confide in "Bess," and beg 
 for her good offices of intermediation ; and then 
 again he would put that aside as a cowardly 
 makeshift. The main thing before his eyes was 
 that Mr. Hague, whose plan seemed to be of 
 the most inchoate description, might at any 
 moment suddenly summon Miss Anne away to 
 the south ; and this parting might be nothing 
 
 more than a formal " Grood-bye " at the door of 
 
 u 2
 
 293 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 the inn, whatever longing, or regret, or wistful 
 hopes might be in their hearts. 
 
 That afternoon, as Sydney presented himself 
 in Miss Anne's apartment, he seemed unusually 
 grave and preoccupied, while she, on the other 
 hand, was particularly merry, for she had just 
 given " Bess " a most merciless beating at 
 draughts, and the defeated player was pretend- 
 ing to be very much annoyed. Of course, 
 when the tea-things had been removed, and the 
 chessmen put on the board. Miss Anne adopted 
 a more serious demeanour, for chess is not a 
 thing to be trifled with; and these two had 
 found themselves so well matched that the con- 
 test was keen. Sydney now paid Miss Anne's 
 skill the compliment of playing his very best ; 
 even that did not always avail him. 
 
 But on this particular occasion Miss Anne's 
 skill was hardly called into requisition ; her 
 opponent manoeuvred so badly. At the outset, 
 or near the outset, he made a wrong guess as 
 to her aim, and therefore got moi'e and more 
 confused, until it seemed that destruction was 
 marching down upon him, from which he could 
 only save himself by the sacrifice of his queen. 
 At this moment Miss Ennerby came over from 
 the window-table at which she was sitting,
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING 293 
 
 " May I borrow your ink-bottle, Miss Aune ? " 
 she said. 
 
 " Yes, dear, you will find it in my dressing- 
 case upstairs," was the reply ; and therewith 
 " Bess " left the room, quietly shutting the door 
 behind her. 
 
 And at the same second a frantic thrill of 
 anxiety shot through Sydney's heart : he was 
 about to dare all : the oi^portunity might never 
 return. 
 
 " Miss Anne," said he, rather breathlessly, 
 "3-0U spoke last night of going away, and I 
 spoke of the possibility of seeing you in London ; 
 of course — you knew — I meant more than 
 that " 
 
 There was something in the tone of his voice 
 that startled her : she looked up in surprise, 
 then instantly lowered her eyes again ; her 
 fingers tightened themselves on the pawn she 
 was about to move. 
 
 " Of course, I meant more than that, far more, 
 though I daren't say it then. AVe have seen a 
 great deal of each other hero, and got to know 
 each other very well ; and I have been bold 
 enough to look forward to something more than 
 even your friendship, delightful as that has 
 been. And I could not let you go away south
 
 294 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 witlioiit saying a word to yon — dear Anne, iell 
 me that I haven't spoken too soon — tell me that 
 you have already gnessed " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Durham," said she, looking up 
 with troubled eyes, and the fingers that held 
 the pawn were all trembling. " I — I did guess 
 —and I was afraid — and I wish you had not 
 spoken to me. Yes, I was afraid ; I thought 
 after I went away, after we were separated, it 
 would be better — you would forget our being 
 so long together and so much with each other. 
 And I hope we shall always be friends — always 
 — always." 
 
 " Friends ? " said he, almost in a tone of 
 reproach. " And nothing more ! Why ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you without — without confess- 
 ing that I have been thinking of it," said she, in 
 great embarrassment, "and — and — before you 
 spoke a word." 
 
 " But I was sure you knew — I was sure you 
 must know," he said, eagerly. " What has that 
 to do with it ? No, dear Anne ; tell me why 
 I may not look forward to your becoming my 
 wife — some day — no matter how far off? I 
 don't care how long I wait for such a prize. 
 Tell me what you fear may come in the way — ■ 
 is it your father ? "
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING 295 
 
 " I don't know what he would say," she said, 
 rather sadly and hopelessly. 
 
 " Is that the only obstacle ? " he asked, 
 quickly. 
 
 She did not answer ; her eyes were downcast. 
 
 " Dear," said he, in tones of earnest entreaty, 
 " we may not have another chance of speaking 
 together. All I want you to say is this, that 
 if your father can be brought to agree, you will 
 not say no. That is all the promise I want — 
 will you give it to me ? " 
 
 There was no word ; her eyes were still 
 downcast. 
 
 " Ah, you do not care to say it — will you 
 give me your hand then ? " he pleaded. 
 
 The trembling fingers released their hold of 
 the pawn, and she was just about timidly to 
 extend her small white hand across the board, 
 when, with a warning cough, the good con- 
 siderate dragon, " Bess," opened the door. Miss 
 Anne caught hold of one of the pieces, and 
 made a wild move — she knew not what. 
 Sydney pretended to be studying the game ; 
 but he was far too excited and muddled to 
 understand anything about it. Miss Ennerby 
 came up to the table. 
 
 " How are you getting on ? " said she, lightly,
 
 296 A SNOPV IDYLL 
 
 " I thought there was danger threatening yon, 
 Mr. Durham. But, good gracious, what's that ! 
 Why, you haven't got a king ! "Where's your 
 king gone to, Mr. Durham?" 
 
 Poor Miss Anne ! Blushing furiously, she 
 had to confess that she had inadvertently 
 snatched away the king instead of the queen, 
 and with nervous haste she proceeded to ex- 
 change the pieces ; but as Miss Ennerby per- 
 ceived that the now removed queen had been 
 taken by a solitary pawn, that must have 
 galloped right across the board for the purpose, 
 the astute young lady went off to her letter- 
 writing without a word. 
 
 Mr. Sydney Durham was in a particularly 
 gay and cheerful humour all that evening ; and 
 he kept regarding Miss Anne in a very kind 
 and affectionate way, though the young lady 
 never by any accident met his glance. " Bess " 
 was convinced in her own mind that something 
 not unimportant had happened during the ten 
 minutes in which she was assiduously searching 
 for an ink-bottle that was staring her in the 
 face ; but she wisely concluded that it was not 
 her business to speak until she was spoken to. 
 She thought it highly probable she would learn 
 quite enough before the night was out.
 
 THE CAPTURE OF A KING 297 
 
 But as for Sydney, when the two young 
 folks had retired and left him to his solitary 
 reveries, the joy with which he had received 
 Miss Anne's mute assurance of her regard for 
 him, was succeeded by a good deal of anxious 
 questioning as to why his dear Anne should 
 fear her father's refusal. Was it the mere 
 timidity of maidenhood ? or had Miss Ennerby's 
 talking about Mr. Hague's ambitious designs 
 with regard to the future of his daughter been 
 a sort of warning addressed to himself? It 
 was clear that Mr. Hague had never heard of 
 him or of his work, until the arrival of father 
 and daughter at Inver-mudal ; to the elderly 
 gentleman this young artist was merely one of 
 the light-hearted, light-pursed, amusing Bohe- 
 mian fraternity, whose sketches he would look 
 at some day with a view to the extension of 
 a little friendly patronage. But to give his 
 daughter to this unknown landscape-painter — 
 what would Sir Thomas and Lady Hendrick 
 say? 
 
 How sincerely that night did Sydney wish 
 that the Royal Academicians had elected him 
 an Associate ! He had never talked slightingly 
 of the honour, as young painters are apt to do 
 — until they receive it ; on the other hand, he
 
 298 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 had never coveted it much, except as a com- 
 pliment paid by one's fellow-artists : but now, 
 how he wished he could have put the magic 
 letters " A.R.A.," before this ambitious papa 
 as some kind of warranty of his position. How, 
 otherwise, was Mr. Hague to be got to under- 
 stand ? Sydney could not very well sit down 
 and write, " Dear Mr. Agnew, There's a man 
 whose daughter I am anxious to marry wlio 
 knows nothing about me and may want to 
 know. "Would you mind telling him what the 
 public think of my work, and what price they 
 are willing to pay for my landscapes ? Yours 
 sincerely, Sydney Durham." That could hardly 
 be expected to form part of the transactions 
 between Mr. Agnew and himself. 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 FIN'ALE. 
 
 Help came to him from another and quite 
 unexpected quarter. The very next morning, 
 as it chanced. Miss Anne received a letter from 
 her papa. She opened it with some trepidation,
 
 FINALE 29c 
 
 she hardly knew why ; but ere she had finished 
 reading' it she was as rose-red as the ma-iden 
 in the ballad when " Glenogie sate down." 
 For this was what Mr. Hague had to say to 
 his daughter : — 
 
 " My Dear Anne, — I have at last got every- 
 thing settled about those brats of Mr. Birrels, 
 and hope to leave on Monday night next, or 
 perhaps Tuesday, reaching you the following- 
 evening. Perhaps I have not missed so much, 
 after all, if the weather has been so severe as 
 you say ; and I am looking forward to getting 
 a salmon or two as a reward for my trouble 
 and worry on behalf of other people. 
 
 " Is Mr. Durham still at Inver-mudal ? I 
 sincerely trust he is, for I wish to know more 
 of him — I very much wish to know more of 
 him. How I came to hear something of him 
 in the south was the result of a very odd coin- 
 cidence. You may remember that I could not 
 accept the invitation of the Fishmongers' Com- 
 pany which arrived just as we were leaving 
 Inver-mudal ? Yery well, when I first came 
 back from Lisbon I found I should be in 
 London, after all, on that very evening ; and 
 so I consulted our good friend Majoribanks, 
 who eventually got me a renewal of the invita-
 
 300 A SNOiy IDYLL 
 
 tion, and accordingly I went. You may judge 
 of my satisfaction when I found myself placed 
 
 next , R.A. ; and, of course, when the 
 
 great man and I had talked a little while, I 
 ventured to tell him of my project of forming 
 a collection of contemporary art. Naturally 
 that was to him an interesting subject, and I 
 need not tell you all the hints he gave me ; 
 what I am coming to is that I chanced to ask 
 him if he had ever heard of Mr. Durham. You 
 should have seen his surprise — indeed, I was 
 heartily ashamed of my own ignorance. ' Heard 
 of him ? ' (indeed, has rather a crushing- 
 way with him). ' My good sir, Sydney Duriiam 
 is one of the very first of living landscape- 
 painters ! Outside the Academy there's nobody 
 to compete with him ; and inside the Academy 
 he'll be very soon.' Then he asked me if 1 
 was lucky enough to have any of Mr. Durham's 
 work ; and I had ^to confess that I had never 
 even seen it, or thought of asking to be allowed 
 to see it. And by-and-by, when I told him how 
 I had met Mr. Durham in the Highlands, he said 
 enough to convince me that we had rather 
 mistaken the young man's position — entirely 
 mistaken it, in fact, for it seems he is quite a 
 well-known figure in society, and has one of
 
 FINALE 301 
 
 the handsomest of houses that the artists all 
 began building eight or ten years ago. Besides, 
 he is of good family— a nephew of the Bishop 
 of Wychester, I am told. I could see for 
 myself when at Inver-mudal that Mr. Durham 
 was a very good-humoured person, and I 
 sincerely trust that he was not offended by my 
 rather too familiar and cavalier treatment of 
 him, which arose from ignorance of his true 
 position. If he is stillj there, I hope you will 
 pay him every attention in your power, so as 
 to make amends. With a little tact you could 
 let him understand that we quite know who 
 he is; and it would come better from you if 
 you would convey to him that both of us hope 
 that an acquaintanceship begun in that distant 
 little inn may not be broken off when he returns 
 to town. Did he not say something about 
 getting us tickets for the Private View ? You 
 must recall the subject, and say we shall be 
 most pleased to go round the Academy with 
 him ; then I can ask him to dinner, and in the 
 buying of those pictures I shall be entirely 
 guided by his advice. It is just possible, of 
 course, that, after I left, you saw but little of 
 Mr. Durham ; but since Miss Ennerby joined 
 you I hope you did not fail to resume the
 
 302 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 acquaintance, and that you have shown him 
 every courtesy and consideration." 
 
 " Have I ? " said Miss Anne to herself, with 
 burning cheeks, and yet with a kind of frightened 
 hiugh. " Well, I think I have — perhaps more 
 than papa will care to hear about." 
 
 And very quickly she took this letter to 
 her friend and companion, Miss Ennerby, and 
 asked her to read it ; for if " Bess " had begun 
 to suspect that Miss Anne was showing just 
 a little too much favour to the young artist, 
 was not this a kind of justification ? Miss 
 Ennerby read the letter through with a per- 
 fectly grave face. As she handed it back sbe 
 would not take any notice of the tell-tale colour 
 still lingering in the young lady's forehead. It 
 was with perfectly demure eyes that she said — 
 
 "Your papa will be quite pleased tliat you 
 and Mr. Durham have continued friends." 
 
 But " Bess " was a kindly and considerate 
 creature ; and that afternoon, as the two young 
 folk were as usual at their chess, she was again 
 called away. It was not an ink-bottle this 
 time ; it was a book. 
 
 " Dear me," she exclaimed, " I wonder where 
 I can have left that ' Tinted Venus ' — it must 
 have been upstairs."
 
 FINALE 
 
 j^j 
 
 And upstairs she went. 
 
 " Do you know , Mr. Durham ? " said 
 
 Miss Anne, naming the famous Academician 
 whom her father had had the good fortune to 
 meet. 
 
 " Oh, yes, very well," he made answer. 
 
 " Papa met him the other evening \ and he 
 spoke a good deal about you," she continued. 
 
 "I hope he did not say anything against 
 me," he remarked. 
 
 " Oh, no, quite the other way," said Miss 
 Anne, pleasantly. " Yery much the other 
 way. I would read you what he said, but it 
 might make you vain." 
 
 " Well, it would," he confessed, " for I value 
 that man's opinion more than that of any other 
 living painter — and that's the honest truth." 
 
 " Papa will be here next Tuesday or Wednes- 
 day," she said. 
 
 " Oh, indeed," said lie, quickly looking up — 
 for he wished to see how she herself regarded 
 this intelligence ; but her eyes were intently 
 fixed on the chess-board, however much or 
 little she saw of the game. 
 
 " And — and he hopes to find you hero, 
 Mr. Durham " 
 
 " They generally call me Sydney," he ob-
 
 304 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 served, just with a touch of reproach ; " even 
 mere acquaintances do." 
 
 " And — and he hopes that you and I have 
 continued friends since he went away." 
 
 " Oh, I can assure him of that," the young 
 man answered, with great cheerfulness : indeed 
 something seemed to say to him that the tone 
 of the letter received that morning was dis- 
 tinctly favourable to his hopes. 
 
 " And you are not to forget the engagement 
 about the Private Yiew," Miss Anne resumed, 
 in humble obedience to instructions, " if you 
 can get tickets. And he hopes you will come 
 and dine with us, for he would like to have 
 some advice from you about the buying of 
 the pictures — we shall be at MacKellar's Hotel, 
 in Dover Street." 
 
 He looked at her scrutinizingly, and yet in 
 a kindly fashion. 
 
 " Do you know, dear Anne," said he, " I 
 somehow fancy that since you got that letter 
 this morning you have less fear of what your 
 father will say — isn't that so ? " 
 
 *'I — I don't know — Sydney," she answered, 
 with downcast eyes (and the mention of his 
 Christian name was the result of a tremendous, 
 almost despairing, effort).
 
 FINALE 305 
 
 " My dearest " But here there was a 
 
 loud step outside ; and the door was opened by 
 " Bess," ostentatiously bearing in her hand Mr. 
 Anstey's little volume. 
 
 " It's your move," said Miss Anne, quickly, 
 to her opponent. 
 
 "Oh, is it?" said he. "I don't think so. 
 I was waiting for you " — and therewith he 
 boldly shoved a piece somewhere, but which 
 or whither he probably could not have told. 
 
 Now we have been assured that " the course 
 of true love never did run smooth ; " but per- 
 haps the young Lysander's reading and ex- 
 perience were equally limited : at all events, 
 in our own day instances have undoubtedly 
 occurred ; and here was one. It is to be 
 admitted that when Mr. Hague arrived at 
 Inver-mudal, and was at the very earliest 
 opportunity of private confidence informed by 
 his daugliter of what had occurred in his 
 absence, he was considerably taken aback ; for 
 his injunctions to Miss Anne to show every 
 possible favour to the distinguished young- 
 artist had not at all contemplated this climax. 
 But Mr. Hague was very fond of his daughter ; 
 and she made some pretty, and shy, and blusli- 
 jng excuses ; and he came to the conclusion 
 
 X
 
 3o6 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 that, althoiigli he might have had other plans, 
 and might have wished to be consulted earlier, 
 the facts as they stood were not so very deplor- 
 able. 
 
 " You know, papa, Sydney wanted to speak 
 to you first," Miss Anne continued, after her 
 trembling confession, — and when the papa 
 heard her call the young man " Sydney," he 
 grew to think that not much time had been 
 wasted while he was away in Portugal — " but 
 I could not let a moment go by without telling 
 you." 
 
 " Well, it is all very sudden, Anne, he said, 
 " and I don't know that I should altogether 
 approve ; but, of course, as you say, you have 
 had unusual opportunities of studying each 
 other's character and disposition ; and I must 
 confess that everything I heard in London of 
 Mr. Durham was to his credit." 
 
 ''•' Dear papa," said Miss Anne, as she put 
 her arms round his neck, and kissed him, and 
 hid her blushing face in his breast. " You 
 have made me so happy — and I was so 
 afraid " 
 
 " Besides," said he, disentangling himself 
 from that embrace as a lover would hardly 
 have done, " he has something to show for
 
 FINALE 307 
 
 himself; he has won a position ; he has an 
 established reputation. He might have been 
 a very honourable and praiseworthy young- 
 man ; but I confess, Anne, I should not have 
 cared to see you marry a mere nobody. 
 
 Among other things, told me that Mr. 
 
 Durham's chief picture of last year had been 
 bought by the Academy out of the Chantry 
 Bequest, and I went down specially to South 
 Kensington to see it. A most remarkable work 
 — a most striking work, I call it. I could 
 almost accuse Mr. Durham of having deceived 
 us in not revealing his true position, but that 
 modesty in a young man is to be commended — 
 for its rarity, in fact " 
 
 " Papa," said Miss Anne, with a sudden 
 doubt, " I hope he wasn't laughing at us for 
 not knowing who he was ? " 
 
 Mr. Hague looked rather uneasy at this 
 suggestion ; but directly he said — 
 
 " How could he, my dear ? You must re- 
 member that 3^ou at least had heard of him 
 as an artist : or you couldn't have asked him 
 to give me counsel about the buying of pictures. 
 Oh, no. But still, if we made a mistake in not 
 wholly understanding his position, if we have 
 
 offended his amour propre " 
 
 X 2
 
 3o8 A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 " Oh, papa, Sydney is not like that ! " Miss 
 Anne exclaimed. " He is quite, quite different 
 from that — he wouldn't think of such a thing 
 — he is too good-humoured — and — and a little 
 bit sarcastic — he couldn't be pretentious, if ho 
 tried — and you may be sure he never thought 
 of being offended — please don't ever mention 
 that to him ! " 
 
 Mr. Hague took the advice of his daughter, 
 who probably comprehended the situation much 
 more clearly than himself; but none the less 
 did he show himself very amiably disposed 
 towards the young man during the brief inter- 
 view that shortly took place. Of course he did 
 his duty as a parent ; he uttered wise remarks 
 about the danger of precipitancy ; he dwelt on 
 the necessity of young people getting to know 
 each other very thoroughly before adventuring 
 on so serious a step as matrimony ; and so 
 forth ; in all of which Mr. Sydney Durham — 
 who was half-bewildered by the unexpected 
 turn that things had taken — heartily agreed 
 with him. And then tlie old gentleman, 
 having done his part, and shaken hands witli 
 his future son-in-law, went away to his own 
 room to change and get ready for dinner. 
 
 When he came down he glanced at the table,
 
 FINALE 309 
 
 which had its ordinary cover on, and then he 
 said — 
 
 " Ah, I suppose we dine in the other room, 
 as we did before I left ? " 
 
 "Yes, papa," said Miss Anne, "we have 
 done that all the way through, ever since Bess 
 came up." 
 
 " My dear ! " said he, with astonished eyes. 
 " My dear ! Do you mean that Miss Ennerby 
 and you have been dining every evening in 
 Mr. Durham's room ? " 
 
 " Papa, it is the public room ! " Miss Anne 
 exclaimed at once. "It is the public room of 
 the inn. I assure you it is quite, quite correct ! 
 Sydney told me so. The Duke's agent came 
 through here one morning by the mail, and he 
 breakfasted in that room, so that proves it." 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Hague was not entirely con- 
 vinced ; but the matter was past praying for 
 now ; and indeed this little confession enabled 
 him to understand better how very intimately 
 those young people had become acquainted in 
 his absence. The little dinner-party in the 
 public room — in the public room, be it under- 
 stood — was now increased to four ; and the 
 conversation was about art. What two of the 
 persons present were really thinking about may
 
 3IO A SNOW IDYLL 
 
 have been a very different thing : indeed, there 
 were little stolen glances which could have but 
 little connection with this topit; ; nevertheless, 
 Mr. Hague continued to pro^DOund his views 
 with regard to the jDictures he intended to 
 purchase. And he further intimated his inten- 
 tion of commissioning Sir John Millais to paint 
 Miss Anne's portrait ; but whether this was to 
 be a wedding-present from the papa-in-law elect 
 lie did not say, for Miss Ennerby was at the 
 table, and was not supposed to know of the 
 important events that had happened. 
 
 However, Miss Ennerby had not been quite 
 blind to all that had been going on. This same 
 evening Miss Anne summoned the fxithful 
 " Bess " to her room ; and thereupon the great 
 secret was confided to her ; and many were the 
 congratulations and happy wishes bestowed 
 upon the young lady in return. 
 
 " But, you know, dear," said " Bess," with a 
 renewed embrace, " that I had a pretty good 
 idea. Do you remember the afternoon that I 
 came downstairs while you were playing chess, 
 and in passing I looked at the game to see how 
 you were getting on ? I noticed something 
 then. I noticed that you had just taken Mr. 
 Durham's king with your pawn."
 
 FINALE 311 
 
 " Oh, Bess, that was the first time he — he 
 spoke to me " 
 
 " Yes, I thought there was something of that 
 kind," said " Bess," " for you know, dear, you 
 don't Qrdinarily take your opponent's king with 
 a pawn — not ordinarily''' 
 
 THE END. 
 
 tOSDON: TKINTF.D 111 WII.UAM CI.OWF.S AND SOKS, LIMITBD, 
 STAMFORD STRKKT AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 The JoUowinc] is a complete list of the new Ealf-Crown Edition 
 of Mr. Black's JS'ovels, and the probable order of their 
 monthly issue beginning January 1892. 
 
 A Daughter of Heth. (Beady.) 
 The Strange Adventures of a 
 
 Phaeton. (Ready.) 
 A Princess of Thule. (Ready.) 
 In Silk Attire. (Ready.) 
 Kilmeny. (Heady.) 
 Madcap Violet. (Beady.) 
 Three Feathers. (Heady.) 
 The Maid of Killeena. (Heady.) 
 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 
 
 (Ready.) 
 Macleod of Dare. (Beady.) 
 Lady Silverdale's Sweetheart. 
 
 (Beady.) 
 White Wings. (Beady.) 
 Sunrise. (Beady.) 
 
 The Beautiful Wretch. 
 
 (Beady.) 
 Shandon Bells. (Beady.) 
 Adventures ia Thule. (Beady.) 
 Yolande. (Beady.) 
 Judith Shakespeare. (Beady.) 
 The Wise Women of Inverness, 
 
 (Beady.) 
 White Heather. (Beady.) 
 Sabina Zembra. (Beady.) 
 In Far Lochaber. (Beady.) 
 The Strange Adventures i f a 
 
 House-Boat. (Beady.) 
 The Penance of John Lojan. 
 
 (Beady.) 
 Prince Fortunatus. 
 Stand Fast! Craig Royston. 
 Donald Eoss of Heimra. 
 
 London: SAMPSON LOW, MAUSTON & COMPANy, Limited, 
 .St. DnNSTAN'i House, Fktter Lane.
 
 k 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
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 CAYL.ORD 
 
 
 
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