345E
 
 Rosabel
 
 Books Especially Suitable for 
 Young Women 
 
 BY ROSA N. CAREY 
 
 Dr. Luttrell's First Patient 
 Cousin Mona 
 My Lady Frivol 
 Life's Trivial Round 
 Illustrated. Cloth, $1.23 per volume 
 
 BY AMY E. BLANCHARD 
 
 An Independent Daughter 
 Two Girls 
 Girls Together 
 Betty of Wye 
 Miss Vanity 
 Three Pretty Maids 
 Her Very Best 
 Illustrated. Cloth, $1.23 per volume 
 
 BY THE " DUCHESS" 
 The Three Graces 
 
 Illustrated. Cloth, &AO 
 
 BY MRS. MOLESWORTH 
 Olivia 
 Philippa 
 Meg Langh olme 
 
 Illustrated'. CM A, $i.ooper volume 
 Miss Bouverie 
 
 Illustrated. Cloth, $1.20, net 
 
 BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL 
 Queechy 
 The Wide, Wide World 
 
 Illustrated, izmo. Cloth, 
 73 cents ptr volume
 
 Rosabel 
 
 By 
 
 Esther Miller 
 
 Author of " A Prophet of the Real," etc. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
 1904
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE Angler's Inn dozed in midsummer sunshine. 
 Along the white road which led on one hand to the 
 village, on the other to the river, nothing was to 
 be seen except a few fowls scratching in the dust. 
 The only sounds were sleepy sounds the buzz 
 of insects, the droning of rustic voices through 
 the bar window, the flick of a tail and the stamp 
 of a hoof from one of the big waggon-team tethered 
 to the fence beside the inn. A water-wagtail dipped 
 into the horse-trough, and ran along the edge after 
 a butterfly ; a kitten skipped round from the stable- 
 yard in wanton high spirits, blundered into an old 
 setter curled on a sack, and bounded off again, 
 with her back arched, quicker than she came. The 
 odour of roses and new-mown hay mingled in wafts 
 with the smell of beer which exuded from the inn. 
 Suddenly a door swung open, and an unseen 
 woman's voice called briskly : 
 
 ' Rosabel ! Where are you, Rosabel ?' 
 A girl, who had been reading on the bench out- 
 side, looked up from her novelette. 
 
 i 
 
 2137400
 
 2 ROSABEL 
 
 ' Yes, aunt.' 
 
 ' Mr. Smith wants a bit of bread and cheese, and 
 the cold 'am.' 
 
 ' I'm coming,' said Rosabel. 
 
 The door banged. 
 
 Rosabel got up reluctantly. She was a sullen- 
 looking girl. With a better expression she would 
 have been pretty, almost beautiful. Her face was 
 round, her eyes were large and dark and thickly 
 lashed, her brown hair had a touch of red in it, her 
 complexion, deepened by the sun, was the colour 
 of a ripe peach. But she had no animation what- 
 ever, and the lack of it accentuated a tendency to 
 heaviness about the jaw, and drew down the corners 
 of her mouth, and deprived her eyes of the natural 
 lustre of youth. For the rest, she was vilely dressed 
 in an ill-fitting red silk blouse and a green skirt, 
 and her hair fell over her brow as though she would 
 not take the trouble to do it becomingly, or did not 
 know how. 
 
 She went indoors, not by the bar entrance, but 
 by the half -glass door marked * Hotel.' Despite 
 this pretension the Angler's Inn was a small place. 
 On the ground-floor there was only the bar and 
 tiny bar-parlour, the coffee-room, and the kitchens, 
 and upstairs half a dozen spare bedrooms for visitorsj 
 usually cyclists, or boating and fishing gentlemen 
 who could not afford, or did not care for* the smart 
 expensive hotel on the river-bank. Mr. and Mrs.
 
 ROSABEL 3 
 
 Collins attended to the bar with the help of a lad 
 and occasional assistance from Rosabel. It was 
 Rosabel's superior duty to wait upon the coffee-room. 
 
 She loathed it. To-day, in particular, her dis- 
 taste was active. She had been thinking about 
 herself all the morning. It was her birthday, and 
 self-consciousness, never sleeping in Rosabel, had 
 been quickened by a remorseless contemplation of 
 past, present, and future. 
 
 She collected the ' bit of bread and cheese and 
 the cold 'am ' resentfully, and frowned on her way 
 back from the kitchen with a heavy tray which was 
 as nothing in her strong young arms. 
 
 The coffee-room was rather a dismal little apart- 
 ment, pervaded at all hours by a subtly compounded 
 odour of spirits, cheese, and stale tobacco-smoke. 
 It looked on a damp corner of the garden, where 
 the sun never seemed to strike, and on hot days it 
 was stuffy, and on cold days it was cold. 
 
 Rosabel laid the cloth. She did it neatly, and 
 made the food look as attractive as possible with 
 garnishing of fresh parsley, and a bowl of roses in 
 the midst, because she was a good housewife by 
 instinct, and could not help herself. Then she 
 took up her novelette again, and called through 
 the inner door of the bar on her way out : 
 
 ' Your lunch is ready, Mr. Smith.' 
 
 ' All right, my dear,' said the miller. ' Many 
 'appy returns of the day to ye.' 
 
 12
 
 4 ROSABEL 
 
 * Thank you,' said Rosabel. 
 
 She sat down in her old place on the bench outside. 
 
 Yes, it was her birthday, and she was nineteen. 
 She felt old. Even at thirteen she had felt old. 
 Not since the heedlessness of childhood had passed 
 had she been really young. This was because she 
 had a grievance, and the temperament to make 
 the most of it. 
 
 By birthright she was an anomaly ; there were 
 conflicting strains in her blood, and such ' culture ' 
 as can be supplied by a middle-class day-school in 
 the country had accentuated them. She wanted 
 to be a lady, and she was niece to Mrs. Collins of 
 the Angler's Inn ; she was just educated enough 
 to suspect that she was an ignoramus without 
 possessing the knowledge necessary to rise above 
 her conditions and make her own life. She hated 
 the upper classes because she envied them, and 
 they had discarded her ; she shrank with disgust 
 from the vulgarity of her father's people with whom 
 she lived, and brooded apart, resentful, reserved, 
 unhappy, alone. Nobody stopped to understand 
 her there was too much to do, and to her aunt, 
 a bustling woman not given to analysis, Rosabel 
 was no more than a girl of peculiar temper a 
 temper which was like to be her bane. If she 
 would hold aloof from other young people, and her 
 sullenness kept the boys off, she had only herself 
 to thank for it.
 
 ROSABEL 5 
 
 Rosabel turned over the leaves of the novelette. 
 Reading was the one thing she cared for, and she 
 spent all her spare money on fiction. At this 
 period her discrimination was feeble, and she 
 devoured works of art and rubbish impartially. 
 Perhaps she preferred the rubbish because it con- 
 tained more titles and scenes of splendour, and, 
 of course, she did not want to read about ordin- 
 ary people living ordinary workaday lives like 
 her own. It was an antidote to the unromantic 
 plebeian affairs of the Angler's Inn that she sought. 
 She was not such a fool as to think that things 
 really happened, and dukes and duchesses really 
 behaved, as they did in tales ; but then it had not 
 even occurred to her that fiction should be a pic- 
 torial representation in words, as it were, of life. 
 They were ' stories.' Rosabel, embittered by ex- 
 perience, drew a hard-and-fast line between fact 
 and the fiction of her favourite penny paper. 
 
 His Grace he was never called anything else 
 had just proposed to the governess. To come 
 there was the always piquant confounding of 
 scornful oppressors. Rosabel, however, had lost 
 interest, temporarily, in these proceedings. There 
 were times when the reality of things claimed her, 
 when she was bound to think and think, with her 
 half-formed mind, striving to see the world as it 
 was, to pierce out the mystery of this ego, herself, 
 which ached with dim consciousness of its own
 
 6 ROSABEL 
 
 shortcomings and desires for impossible achieve- 
 ments, and still more impossible revenge. She had 
 wished how many times ? that she had never 
 been born. Others had wished it, too, for that 
 matter. All the same, here she was, and here, it 
 seemed, she had to remain. 
 
 A horseman came trotting along the road a 
 gentleman on a raking chestnut. 
 
 Rosabel looked up. She knew the mare, and the 
 rider. He dropped down at the inn door a man 
 of seven or eight and twenty, big, fair, rather 
 fresh-coloured, a good-looking specimen of a sensual 
 type. His name was Braithwaite. He was 
 ' county,' and owned Hallowdene, a large place 
 five miles off. 
 
 ' 'Morning, Rosabel,' he said. 
 
 She rose without answering. 
 
 ' A whisky-and-soda long. You know how I 
 like it. Bring it out, there's a good girl.' 
 
 When she reappeared with the drink in one of 
 the best tumblers, the chestnut was tied to a tree, 
 and Maurice Braithwaite in possession of her 
 seat. 
 
 ' Come and sit down,' he said in a friendly tone, 
 making room for her. * We're smart to-day ! A 
 new blouse, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said uneasily. ' Don't you like it ?' 
 
 ' It's beautiful. But you mustn't go near the 
 cows !'
 
 ROSABEL 7 
 
 ' Aunt gave it to me for a birthday present,' said 
 Rosabel. 
 
 * Oh, it's your birthday ! That accounts for the 
 unwonted splendour. I'd like to give you some- 
 thing, too.' His fingers slipped into his waistcoat- 
 pocket. ' See here, Rosabel- 
 He was trying to put a sovereign into her hand. 
 
 Rosabel, still standing, shrank backj scarlet,- 
 with her arms behind her. 
 
 ' No, thank you, Mr. Braithwaite !' 
 
 ' Why not ?' he asked. 
 
 ' I'm much obliged to you, but I couldn't take it. 
 I didn't mean that when I mentioned my birthday.' 
 
 ' I know. Don't be a fool !' 
 
 She shook her head again, and Braithwaite 
 shrugged his shoulders, looking annoy ed* and 
 repocketed the money. 
 
 There was a moment's silence. His moustache 
 dipped into the whisky-and-soda. He lit a cigar. 
 Rosabel glanced at the door. 
 
 ' Anyhow, you can stay and talk to me for five 
 minutes ! Come along.' 
 
 She accepted his invitation to sit down this time, 
 although reluctantly, and he smiled again. 
 
 ' And how old are you ?' 
 
 ' Nineteen,' she said. 
 
 ' I wonder if you'll ever realize what a deuced 
 pretty little girl you are !' 
 
 Rosabel locked her hands in her lap.
 
 8 ROSABEL 
 
 ' I know what I'm like,' she said discontentedly. 
 ' But you don't know how to have a good time.' 
 He was one of those men who live to amuse 
 themselves, and only regard women in one way. 
 He had often noticed Rosabel, and made advances, 
 which she had either not seen or pretended not to 
 see. She began to pique him. After all, who was 
 she ? He played the game mechanically as a 
 swimmer strikes out when dropped into deep water. 
 The habit of pursuit was natural to his species. 
 
 * I have never had a good time,' said Rosabel, 
 * and I don't suppose I ever shall.' 
 
 * Haven't you got a sweetheart ?' 
 
 * No,' she said, frowning at her knuckles. 
 
 * Why ? Haven't the lads hereabouts any eyes ?' 
 
 * I don't care for men of that sort farmers, and 
 tradespeople, and servants.' 
 
 * You want a gentleman, eh ? You are ambitious. 
 And yet you are always snubbing me !' 
 
 * You ?' she queried. 
 
 ' You must know by this time that I am desper- 
 ately in love with you !' 
 
 * Please don't talk nonsense,' said Rosabel 
 angrily, turning red again. * You are a married man. 
 I'm not such a fool. You are only laughing at me. 
 
 ' I'm not !' He leaned over her. His arm, 
 which had been resting on the back of the seat, 
 suddenly pressed her waist. * Give me a kiss, 
 Rosabel !'
 
 ROSABEL 9 
 
 * Certainly not, Mr. Braithwaite !' 
 
 * There's nobody in sight !' he said. 
 
 She thrust him away, and sprang to her feet. 
 ' How dare you !' 
 
 * Well, you are a little cat !' he said. 
 
 Rosabel ran into the house, and upstairs to her 
 room, where she sank down and began to cry with 
 rage. 
 
 Braithwaite, after a moment's chagrin, smiled 
 the wrong side of his mouth, finished his drink, and 
 went into the bar to pay for it. 
 
 * Gives herself too many airs,' he muttered as 
 he rode away. ' Cheek ! She ought to be flattered 
 that I take any notice of her.'
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THAT afternoon an electric launch, with a dozen 
 ladies and gentlemen on board, stopped at the 
 Three Fishers Hotel. It was a party of smart 
 people who were in the habit of regarding them- 
 selves as the very smartest in London. Not in the 
 ordinary sense used by outsiders, be it understood, 
 for there was not a single title among them. But 
 they were the choice spirits who wrote, and acted, 
 and painted, and criticised, and talked above all 
 talked, chiefly about themselves. 
 
 They scattered over the little hotel and the 
 riverside lawn. 
 
 ' Remember,' said Mrs. Fairbourne aloud, ' that 
 we are all to reunite here at 4.30 for tea.' 
 
 * And it's 3.15 now,' added Alec Aylmer, consult- 
 ing his watch. 
 
 Of course he was beside her, and they strolled 
 away together. It was his party, although she 
 had asked the guests, and their friendship had 
 reached the stage when tactful people invited them 
 together and got out of their way. 
 
 10
 
 ROSABEL ii 
 
 ' Shall we go for a walk through the village ?' he 
 suggested. 
 
 * I don't mind,' she replied. 
 
 She was most unsuitably dressed for a country 
 road, in a long muslin dress elaborately inlet with 
 lace, a picture hat, and fluffy parasol. But she 
 looked charming. He thought so, and she knew 
 it. A fair woman, she" was, of medium height, 
 with a white pointed face, plaintive eyes, a prac- 
 tised smile. Fairbourne had been nothing more 
 elevated than a stockbroker, but he had left her 
 well off. Her little house in Great Cumberland 
 Place hummed with celebrities. She did nothing 
 herself ; but to know people who did, to be in the 
 ' inner ring,' was her passion. She lost a great deal 
 of money at bridge. 
 
 Aylmer did nothing with somewhat less elabora- 
 tion. He lounged, and looked on a sceptic without 
 enthusiasms. But she drew him, perhaps with 
 her tongue ; really, she talked very well, and when 
 a woman of position looks twice at a man, he is apt 
 to pause and look back at her. He supposed her 
 to be about two-and-thirty, his own age ; as a 
 matter of fact she was thirty-seven, but nobody 
 would have guessed it. 
 
 She picked up her skirts daintily, and sought the 
 shady side of the way. 
 
 ' A perfect day,' she said. ' How good of you to 
 ask us !'
 
 12 ROSABEL 
 
 * It is very pleasant,' he agreed. 
 
 ' Pretty country, the ripple of water in one's 
 ears, an excellent lunch, plenty of ice, and good 
 company ! What more can one want in this world ?' 
 
 ' A game of bridge at my chambers, and a little 
 supper to wind up the evening !' 
 
 * What a happy thought !' she said. ' But I 
 shall be so sleepy and stupid after a day in the open 
 air, and I shall lose, and I really can't afford to lose 
 any more.' 
 
 ' How do you stand ?' he inquired. 
 ' Oh, I daren't calculate. I gave up keeping an 
 account last month.' 
 ' As bad as that !' 
 
 * Even worse.* 
 
 He looked at her under his lids with the tentative 
 humour of the man of tact who is going to venture 
 much. Women found Aylmer fascinating. He 
 was handsome, with very fine gray eyes, a straight 
 nose, and a clean mouth. At Oxford he had shown 
 a great deal of promise, but an income of three 
 thousand a year had nipped it in the bud. So 
 he lived comfortably in chambers in Piccadilly, 
 travelled when he felt inclined, dined simply, 
 smoked moderately, hunted in the season, and 
 so far had evaded matrimony. Was the net over 
 him at last ? 
 
 ' May I put you straight ?' 
 
 * It's really very sweet of you,' said Mrs. Fair-
 
 ROSABEL 13 
 
 bourne. ' But quite impossible ! My dear fellow, 
 just think !' 
 
 ' A loan,' he said, with ingratiating sweetness, 
 * and you shall pay when you like ! A mere 
 business transaction.' 
 
 * Oh, if you put it like that !' she said. 
 
 ' How much ?' He unscrewed the gold pencil 
 on his watch-chain, and pulled down his cuff for a 
 note. 
 
 ' Twelve hundred,' she said faintly. ' I'll live 
 on bread and water till I've paid you ! I really am 
 in a tight corner. My income is locked up, you 
 know. Fortunately, there is always Aunt Eliza.' 
 
 ' Who is she ?' 
 
 * Aunt Eliza Dudgeon of Torquay. Can't you 
 see her ? She disapproves of me, and we never 
 meet ; but she is going to leave me fifty thousand 
 pounds, because she has nobody else. I suppose 
 she can't live for ever. She is a maiden of sixty- 
 five.' 
 
 It was the habit of this particular smart set to 
 be flippant on all matters, sacred and profane. 
 And Aylmer was so used to hearing men and 
 women scoff at religion, and sentiment, and the 
 natural ties of kindred and affection at every- 
 thing, in fact, which was nature, not art that it 
 did not even strike him that Mrs. Fairbourne had 
 spoken of her aged relative with a lack of respect 
 and good feeling which betokened a lack of heart.
 
 I 4 ROSABEL 
 
 A naturally good palate may become perverted by 
 unwholesome condiments. Ordinary pepper, if 
 used too frequently, loses effect, and only cayenne 
 and chillies can tickle the vitiated tongue. Thus 
 suggestive jokes crop up, and questionable in- 
 nuendoes malice, cynicism, and the desire to shine 
 at anyone's expense. 
 
 But Aylmer, blunted by habit, smiled without a 
 qualm, apparently quite satisfied with the perfect 
 gown, the exquisite manner, the refined voice and 
 face, which was all of a woman that there was 
 beside him. 
 
 * You mustn't worry at all,' he said. ' The money 
 is lying at the bank. Glad to find a use for it.' 
 
 * Bloated millionaire !' 
 
 * No. You know the figure of my income,' he 
 said simply. ' I've no vices, that is all.' 
 
 4 And I have, you mean ?' 
 
 * You shall have the cheque to-morrow.' 
 
 'Go on !' she said. * You haven't finished ! I 
 know you are dying to improve the occasion !' 
 ' Please don't play bridge !' 
 
 * But it's so old-fashioned to be eccentric. Every- 
 body is normal nowadays.' 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 * I'll draw the line at penny points,' she said. 
 ' What ! not satisfied with that ?' 
 
 * Of course, you will do exactly as you like, my 
 dear lady ! Who am I to presume '
 
 ROSABEL 15 
 
 * Why,' she asked, * don't you like me to play at 
 all?' 
 
 * Because there are some women who shouldn't.' 
 
 ' You mean that I lose my head !' She was 
 piqued. 
 
 ' It is a pity when the head is so charming !' 
 
 She gave him a melting glance. Goodness 
 knows what might have happened if an unexpected 
 diversion had not occurred. 
 
 ' Cows !' shrieked Mrs. Fairbourne. * Save me !' 
 
 There were six, calves with them, coming down 
 the road in charge of a whistling urchin. 
 
 ' I think,' said Aylmer, * that the peril may be 
 faced with presence of mind. But if you prefer to 
 retreat, here is a gate !* 
 
 They leaned over it, laughing, on the inside. No 
 doubt she had exaggerated her alarm for the sake 
 of clutching his arm. 
 
 ' I thought you were brought up in the country ?' 
 he remarked. 
 
 * So I was. But so long ago that I have forgotten 
 all about it ! Now why did I say that ? You will 
 begin to wonder how old I am. I meant, of course, 
 that I always hated cows.' 
 
 * If women were half as harmless !' 
 
 * It doesn't seem to me that you have found them 
 very dangerous yet !' 
 
 Was she trying to draw him on a little too quickly ? 
 Perhaps his mind was not quite made up, or he
 
 16 ROSABEL 
 
 preferred, if it were, to choose his own time. He 
 only smiled at her. 
 
 * I have a cool head.' 
 
 ' A cold heart, you mean !' she cried angrily. 
 
 * Allow me to open the gate !' 
 
 She moved too widely. A nail caught the muslin 
 dress. There was a rip, and half a yard of lace frill 
 trailed the ground. 
 
 ' Oh, look at that !' she wailed. 
 
 ' What a misfortune ! But there is an inn a 
 little further on. We'll get it mended for you.' 
 
 Thus it happened that Rosabel, wrapped in 
 gloomy meditation on the edge of her bed, was 
 presently disturbed by a breathless kitchenmaid. 
 
 ' Please, miss, you're wanted downstairs.' 
 
 Rosabel sponged her eyes briefly, and descended 
 with remnants of the storm still lingering in them. 
 
 * How you do get out of the way, Rosabel !' said 
 Mrs. Collins sharply. ' You left Mr. Braithwaite 
 to bring in his own tumbler, and I have to send all 
 over the place after you when customers come. If 
 it wasn't your birthday I'd be downright cross. 
 Hurry ! There's a lady in the best bedroom 
 wanting a needle and cotton white.' 
 
 Rosabel never * answered back.' She only lowered 
 her black lashes sullenly, and her mouth assumed a 
 more decided pout. She took the needle and cotton 
 to the best bedroom. 
 
 The apparition which met her view as she opened
 
 ROSABEL 17 
 
 the door made the girl pause. Here was a lady 
 indeed, not a lady merely in the catholic spirit of 
 her aunt. The faultless costume, the perfectly- 
 dressed hair, the white face with the faintly-arched, 
 supercilious brows and thin red lips, the subtle 
 perfume which clung about her, went to Rosabel's 
 heart like a knife-thrust. She had never heard 
 the word chic, but she knew that this woman 
 was perfectly turned out from her crown to her 
 heels, and walked the ways of luxury in another 
 world. 
 
 Rosabel saw before her, in fact, an ideal repre- 
 sentative of that class which ever inspired her with 
 the antagonism of grudging admiration, of consum- 
 ing envy, of class resentment, with the jealousy of 
 the base-born for the heir. The girl in her vulgar 
 clothes, intelligent enough to know how much 
 she lacked, perceived the gulf between herself 
 and this woman, and realization of those deficiencies 
 which were not her own fault filled her with mingled 
 rage and despair. 
 
 Her firm sulky mouth drew in at the corners, 
 and she frowned, perhaps unconsciously, at Mrs. 
 Fairbourne. 
 
 * Here is the needle and thread. Can I do any- 
 thing ?' 
 
 She always spoke correctly, and her country 
 breeding had preserved her from a Cockney accent. 
 On this occasion she took extra pains to enunciate 
 
 2
 
 :8 ROSABEL 
 
 veil. But Mrs. Fairbourne did not notice her 
 it all. A young person was to her an automaton 
 to make itself useful. A penchant for the lower 
 ;lasses was not one of her fads. In fact, they dis- 
 gusted her when she thought about them at all. 
 She made an art of refinement. But, of course, 
 she was always polite, and spoke civilly to the 
 ajirl of the inn. 
 
 * I wonder if you could mend this flounce ? I 
 caught it on a nail. I hate stooping.' 
 
 * I'll try,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' You need not be very neat,' said Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 * Anyhow will do till I get home, as long as I don't 
 fall over it.' 
 
 The girl threaded her needle, went down on her 
 knees, and began to sew. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne's eyes roamed, as she stood, 
 over the rose-bud wall-paper, the old-fashioned 
 crochet quilt and chintz bed-curtains, the square 
 window sunk rather deeply in the wall the Angler's 
 Inn was an old house and the green glass orna- 
 ments on the mantelpiece. It was very clean, 
 rather countrified, and hideous. 
 
 She was amused. What taste these people 
 had! 
 
 Then her attention was attracted by the insuffer- 
 able combination of crude red and green worn 
 by the girl crouching beside her, and she smiled. 
 Yes, what taste ! She recalled an effective remark
 
 ROSABEL 19 
 
 she had made at dinner the other night : ' The 
 Anglo-Saxons are the least picturesque of all 
 races on earth.' It was not original, but it had 
 pleased her at the time ; a good memory will often 
 take the place of wit. Now, if this girl were properly 
 dressed. . . . She had quite a nice-shaped head, 
 and her red-brown hair was pretty and plentiful. 
 Her complexion and her features, too 
 
 A twinge passed across Mrs. Fairbourne's face. 
 She inhaled a sibilant breath through her teeth, 
 and looked harder at Rosabel. A resemblance 
 had struck her, a startling resemblance. It was 
 as though a cupboard door had opened suddenly 
 disclosing a skeleton which had been hidden so 
 long that she had almost forgotten it. Yet it 
 might be only her imagination which saw this grim 
 relic of the past. 
 
 The girl's name would settle the matter one way 
 or the other if she dared to ask it. But she would 
 not encourage herself in this flight of fancy. The 
 likeness was an accident, no doubt. Downstairs 
 Aylmer was waiting for her. He was real, the 
 launch party was real, all the pleasant accessories 
 of her life to-day were real why permit an evil 
 dream to linger in the sunshine ? 
 
 But still she looked at the girl's face, and the 
 question she had tried to stifle came out at last. 
 
 * Are you the landlady's daughter ?' 
 
 ' No, her niece,' replied Rosabel, glancing up. 
 
 2 2
 
 to ROSABEL 
 
 * You remind me of a a servant I had once,' 
 aid Mrs. Fairbourne. ' Perhaps you are a younger 
 ister. What is your name ?' 
 
 ' Rosabel Carpenter,' replied the girl. She was 
 iffended at the suggestion, and bit off a thread 
 nth a vicious jerk. 
 
 ' Rosabel Carpenter !' repeated Mrs. Fairbourne 
 aintly. ' Carpenter ! N no, the name isn't the 
 ame. That will do. You have mended my dress 
 icely. Thank you.' 
 
 She put half a crown in Rosabel's hand.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AYLMER was waiting in the coffee-room. When 
 Mrs. Fairbourne stood in the doorway, he started. 
 
 ' Good God ! what is the matter ?' 
 
 She was white to the lips. 
 
 * This place is so stuffy !' she gasped. ' Take 
 me away.' 
 
 ' Have some brandy !' 
 
 ' No.' Her gloved hand sought his sympathetic 
 arm. ' I shall be all right. Only take me away.' 
 
 Nevertheless, she could scarcely see the road she 
 trod on, and he led a mere doll towards the 
 river. 
 
 When she had recovered a little, an impulse 
 moved her to confide in him. If she were going 
 to marry him and her mind was made up, at any 
 rate it would not be safe to keep a secret. Besides, 
 what she had to tell him could never be a real 
 secret ; too many people knew it. 
 
 ' Something upset me,' she said. ' How 
 strangely things happen ! Why should chance 
 have taken me to that particular inn ?' 
 
 21
 
 22 ROSABEL 
 
 ' Then there is something the matter !' he ex- 
 Maimed, looking at her. 
 
 * Yes. Oh, I have had a shock ! Don't be 
 alarmed. I am not going to faint now. I must 
 tell you.' 
 
 He was obviously waiting, with expectation on 
 tiptoe. Her hints were mysterious enough. 
 
 * I suppose you know,' she said at last, 'that I 
 have been married twice ?' 
 
 ' I heard something about an early marriage.' 
 
 * I was seventeen, and such a little fool. You 
 know what girls are at that age.' 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 ' Don't smile. It was a tragedy. Do you know 
 any more ?' 
 
 ' You dispensed with your father's consent, 
 didn't you ?' 
 
 1 Go on.' 
 
 * My information is exhausted.' 
 
 * Then people are more charitable than I sup- 
 posed,' she said, with a slight laugh, ' or their 
 memories are shorter. I ran away with my 
 groom !' 
 
 * Good Lord, Amy !' 
 
 He did not notice, in his pardonable agitation, 
 that he had called her by her name, but she did, 
 and her soul was balmed. 
 
 ' Yes, that was it. I used to go out riding with 
 him. It was down in Devonshire, and deadly not
 
 ROSABEL 23 
 
 a man in the place. He was remarkably hand- 
 some. . . . Do remember my age !' 
 ' Have I said a word ?' 
 ' You are sneering in your sleeve !' 
 ' On my honour !' He looked at her quite 
 tenderly. 
 
 ' I think I was disillusioned in a week,' she con- 
 tinued. ' Of course, he was a groom. We had 
 no money, too. I believe he was fond of me, but 
 he had been reckoning on my father for supplies, 
 and papa simply washed his hands of us. A year 
 of horrors followed. We lived in two rooms in a 
 dirty lodging-house on the proceeds of the jewellery 
 and clothes I had brought away with me. It 
 served me right, no doubt, but I want your sym- 
 pathy.' 
 
 ' You have it, dear lady.' 
 
 * At the end of the year William that was his 
 name caught a chill and died of pneumonia. I 
 had not looked for such a happy release. I tele- 
 graphed instantly to papa, and he came by return, 
 and took me home. Oh, the luxury of cleanliness, 
 refinement, and decent cooking again !' 
 ' So the story ended happily ?' 
 She had been recovering more and more under the 
 sun of his sympathy, but at this moment a relapse 
 set in. She really looked as if she were going to 
 cry. 
 
 ' Unfortunately, it did not end there. You
 
 24 ROSABEL 
 
 saw that girl at the inn the girl they called 
 Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' She is William's daughter.' 
 
 ' William's daughter ?' 
 
 * And mine,' said Mrs. Fairbourne faintly. 
 
 ' The devil !' ejaculated Aylmer. He stared. 
 Ihe information was enough to startle a more 
 ardent suitor. 
 
 * Her resemblance to him struck me at once,' 
 >he pursued. ' I asked her name. . . . What an 
 experience !' 
 
 * But how is it that she that you . . . Why 
 lidn't you know ?' 
 
 ' Papa wouldn't let me keep her. He wanted to 
 
 :ut the whole connection naturally. It was the 
 
 :ondition he made on taking me home. Was I 
 
 ikely to object ? The infant was given to William's 
 
 ister, a respectable young married woman without 
 
 hildren of her own. At the time the husband was 
 
 butler, I believe. They were to have a hundred 
 
 year, and hold their tongues. The lawyers pay 
 
 : to this day. I have never had any communica- 
 
 on with the people direct. The following year I 
 
 tarried George Fairbourne.' 
 
 ' He knew ?' 
 
 ' Papa explained. George didn't care. He was 
 love. Besides, what did it matter ? It was all
 
 ROSABEL 25 
 
 ' It was all over,' repeated Aylmer mechanically. 
 
 ' I must say papa managed well. Very little talk 
 reached London. I wasn't known then, you see. 
 People met me as Mrs. Fairbourne, and, of course, 
 I never mentioned anything unpleasant.' 
 
 * And the girl at the inn is your daughter !' 
 Curiosity moved him. ' Did you say anything to 
 her?' 
 
 ' What could I say ? I was never so shocked in 
 my life. And we were having such a pleasant day ! 
 It was all your fault. You took me there ! You 
 won't tell anybody ?' 
 
 ' Of course not.' 
 
 ' I trust you,' she said. 
 
 She leaned towards him with delicate flattery of 
 voice and eyes, but Aylmer was thinking. 
 
 ' So even now,' he said, trying to grasp the 
 stupendous fact, * she doesn't know who you are ?' 
 
 ' Good gracious, no !' cried Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 ' Did you expect me to reveal myself after the 
 manner of the long-lost parent of melodrama ? 
 She mended my dress, and I gave her half a 
 crown.' 
 
 ' Half a crown !' he exclaimed, in huge delight. 
 ' Half a crown ! How extravagant you are ! I 
 always told you that you tipped too highly. That 
 is why you cannot afford to lose at bridge. A 
 shilling was the price !' 
 
 ' Perhaps so,' she said. ' But I suppose I felt
 
 26 ROSABEL 
 
 that I ought to do something special . . . under 
 the circumstances, you know.' 
 
 Aylmer shouted with laughter. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne echoed him, from a mere syco- 
 phantic desire to please. She was not really amused. 
 The encounter had been painful in the extreme. It 
 would take her several days to recover from it.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ALTHOUGH no instinct had whispered the amazing 
 truth to Rosabel, she felt that something had hap- 
 pened. It was seldom that she came into contact 
 with smart ladies, although she saw many of them 
 in the distance on Sundays when she walked along 
 the tow-path to the lock, and she had taken par- 
 ticular notice of every point of Mrs. Fairbourne's 
 manner and attire. 
 
 When she was free at last to meditate upon the 
 experiences of her birthday that anniversary of a 
 date which her mother had forgotten she stared 
 at the reflection in her small toilet-glass with tragic 
 eyes. 
 
 ' I don't believe the blouse is really nice,' she 
 thought. ' Perhaps it's all wrong, and one oughtn't 
 to wear red and green together ?' She grew hot 
 and anxious. ' Mr. Braithwaite laughed, although 
 he said he liked it. Perhaps he knew it was wrong. 
 I wonder what she thought of it ?' 
 
 It was terrible to imagine that these fine people had 
 
 been amused at her. Sensitiveness to ridicule was 
 
 27
 
 2 8 ROSABEL 
 
 almost a disease with the girl. She could have for- 
 given someone who struck her sooner than someone 
 who laughed at her. She regretted now that she 
 had put on the new red blouse instead of her 
 usual white cotton dress. At any rate, there 
 was nothing remarkable about a white cotton 
 
 dress. 
 
 ' She said I resembled a servant she had once/ 
 remembered Rosabel. 'Then she must have 
 thought I looked common !' 
 
 And if she were common now, what would she be 
 when she was older ? Probably she would grow 
 like her aunt stout and florid, with a loud voice,; 
 a hearty laugh, and a painful outspokenness. 
 What else could she expect ? She was a waitress 
 at an inn, the associate of vulgar people, one of 
 them a mark for the impertinence of every man 
 who came along. A black depression settled upon 
 her. Never had her shortcomings seemed so many 
 and so insurmountable. In her heart of hearts she 
 had cherished the idea that she was better than her 
 neighbours. Her continual anxious search for 
 some sign of the superiority due to her birth had 
 found her a little solace. Now all hope was swept 
 away. She saw herself as an ignorant, ill-bred 
 village girl beside this elegant woman of the world. 
 And she ought to have been something different. 
 She was wronged. She had been robbed of the 
 advantages and opportunities her mother's daughter
 
 ROSABEL 29 
 
 should have received, which it should have been her 
 mother's pleasure to give her. 
 
 Many times she had summed up her grievances, 
 but never had the total impressed her so deeply. 
 She was filled with a passionate, burning hatred of 
 the woman who had abandoned her. Perhaps one 
 day, she did not know how, she would be revenged. 
 If she had been born two centuries earlier, she would 
 have trafficked with the nearest witch, and brought 
 a fearful retribution upon her mother's head by 
 burning her waxen image in the kitchen fire. 
 
 The smell of fried onions reached her in her little 
 bedroom under the roof. It was supper-time. She 
 was not hungry, but they would call her if she did 
 not go down. 
 
 She descended slowly. A loneliness of the spirit 
 had seized her. She felt an alien in the house of her 
 aunt, where she had lived all her life. 
 
 There was a steak the raison d'etre of the onions 
 on the supper-table in the parlour, and plenty 
 of fried potatoes, and pale ale. The Angler's 
 Inn was a good concern, and the Collinses lived 
 well. 
 
 Collins, the retired butler, a tall, stout, smug- 
 faced man not unlike his wife, had just begun to 
 serve out. Mrs. Collins was cutting bread. 
 
 * How's your appetite, Rosabel ?' he asked. 
 
 ' I don't want any meat, thank you, uncle,' 
 replied the girl.
 
 3 o ROSABEL 
 
 ' What's that ?' exclaimed her aunt. ' Nonsense, 
 Rosabel ! You eat your supper properly.' 
 
 ' I am going to have some bread and cheese.' 
 
 ' I know what it is,' said Collins facetiously. 
 ' She's afraid of losing her figure if she eats enough, 
 eh, Rosabel ?' 
 
 Rosabel disdained to reply. 
 
 ' No, it's the onions,' said Mrs. Collins, with a 
 short laugh. * She likes them really, but she pre- 
 tends she don't because they ain't genteel. I 
 know the young miss !' 
 
 This was such a shrewd definition of her attitude 
 that Rosabel scowled. There is nothing as annoy- 
 ing, at times, as the truth. 
 
 * Don't you put on so many airs, Rosabel,' added 
 Mrs. Collins, irritated in her turn by the girl's 
 silence. ' Nobody notices you, so you might as 
 well be natural. Sulkiness and conceit never got 
 a girl a good husband yet, and you'll be left on the 
 shelf if you don't mend your ways.' 
 
 Rosabel raised fierce eyesomder lowering brows. 
 
 ' I wish you'd let me alone, aunt !' 
 
 ' You've been cross all day,' replied Mrs. Collins 
 sharply. * Bless the girl ! what's the matter with 
 her ? You had presents, and your favourite pudding 
 for dinner, and a glass of champagne everything 
 of the best, and no expense spared to give you a 
 happy birthday and yet you must go about with
 
 ROSABEL 31 
 
 a face like a wet week, so grumpy that you can't be 
 spoken to. Such ingratitude !' 
 
 * I'm not grumpy,' cried the girl with sudden 
 passion. 
 
 She pushed her chair back stormily, and rose from 
 the table. 
 
 * Yes, go to bed ! It's the best thing you can do. 
 I don't want any sour faces near me.' 
 
 ' There, there, wife !' said Collins, a peace-loving 
 man. ' It's the girl's birthday. We all have our 
 tempers.' 
 
 * If she were a couple of years younger, I'd box 
 her ears,' declared his wife, red in the face. 
 
 Rosabel went out, banging the door, and retreated 
 to her own room, and flung herself on the bed, and 
 wept for the second time on this eventful day. 
 
 * I wasn't cross !' she sobbed. ' No, I wasn't. 
 They don't understand.'
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 AMY FAIRBOURNE'S stock of romance had been 
 exhausted for many years by her early love affair 
 with the impossible William. She had made 
 hysterical vows at the time, wept copiously, and 
 emerged from the briefest retirement decency 
 allowed with crape on her gown she barred the 
 widow's cap, which was really too much and the 
 most sensible of sentiments towards men. In 
 future she was going to be practical. So she 
 married Fairbourne, by her father's advice, for 
 money, and if, after all, he had not left her as well 
 off as she had hoped, she could afford most of the 
 luxuries of life in moderation, and the episode of 
 William was buried under a cheap headstone at 
 Kensal Green. 
 
 In the folly of her girlhood she had thrown 
 herself away, in the materialism of maturity she 
 had sold herself ; but she had not yet given her- 
 self, which was quite another matter. It was 
 reserved for the verge of middle age, when a 
 woman's passions are often keener than in youth, 
 
 32
 
 ROSABEL 33 
 
 to bring her Alec Aylmer and the love of her 
 life. 
 
 If she had asked no more of fate at this date than 
 an agreeable companion with a sufficient income, 
 she would have been glad enough to marry him. 
 His appearance, his wit, his manners, charmed her 
 equally. But she was in love even to the degree of 
 making sacrifices had sacrifices been required. 
 Thank God, he was eminently desirable that was 
 part of his attraction. The day of William had 
 long gone by. 
 
 Aylmer, for his part, had lounged into the posi- 
 tion of habitue at Great Cumberland Place through 
 laziness as much as inclination. She kept on asking 
 him, so he kept on going. Besides, she amused him, 
 and it is natural to the average man to like a woman 
 who is not ashamed of showing a decided preference 
 for his society. And he met amusing people at her 
 house. 
 
 How the idea of marrying her had entered his 
 head, he scarcely knew himself. It had come 
 without any shock of discovery. Had anyone 
 asked him if he were in love, he would have thought 
 a moment, probably, and answered no. Yet he 
 was always glad to be with her. She had a great 
 deal of tact, and could amuse a dinner-table, and 
 he was growing tired of living alone. 
 
 But he was in no hurry, and sometimes his dalli- 
 ance irritated her. Yesterday, for instance, he had 
 
 3
 
 34 ROSABEL 
 
 had several good opportunities of approaching the 
 point. She had let him lend her money, and had 
 taken a solitary walk with him, and in the twilight 
 on the river going home he might have whispered 
 a great many things instead of discoursing aloud on 
 politics. For once he had bored her. She was 
 growing impatient. There was the question of 
 money, too. 
 
 She was thinking it out in bed, with a vertical 
 line between her brows, on the morning after the 
 launch party. 
 
 If she did not marry Aylmer soon, she would have 
 to pay him, and her position was worse than she 
 had admitted. It was impossible to live on nothing 
 in Great Cumberland Place and keep up with an 
 extravagant set. At the best of times she found it 
 difficult enough not to have to go without things 
 she wanted on two thousand a year. The addition 
 of Aylmer's three thousand would make a com- 
 fortable income. And she would not be obliged 
 to liquidate her debt a great consideration. 
 
 ' I must get him up to the mark this week,' she 
 told herself. ' Of course, he is fond of me.' 
 
 She paused after uttering this statement aloud, 
 and repeated it with an air of aggression, as though 
 someone had contradicted her. It would have been 
 more flattering to her vanity, as a matter of fact, 
 if he had shown some eagerness. He must not feel 
 too sure. Perhaps a flirtation in another quarter 
 would be judicious.
 
 ROSABEL 35 
 
 There was a little pile of letters lying beside her 
 cup of tea, and she began to open them. Three 
 invitations, a bill, a note from a particular friend, 
 and a letter bearing the postmark of Torquay. 
 
 ' Aunt Eliza,' she murmured. 
 
 The writing was not Aunt Eliza's, but Miss 
 Dudgeon never wrote her own letters. She dic- 
 tated to a companion. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne opened the envelope, anticipat- 
 ing a request to match a pattern of impossible 
 material. 
 
 * DEAR MRS. FAIRBOURNE, 
 
 ' I am grieved to inform you that your aunt, 
 Miss Eliza Dudgeon, died suddenly at 4.30 p.m. I 
 am writing by the same post to the lawyers. If 
 you intend to come down, perhaps you will kindly 
 
 send me a wire. 
 
 ' Yours faithfully, 
 
 * MARY BATEMAN.' 
 
 The letter was of yesterday's date. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne turned pale. The news of death, 
 anyone's death, is always a shock. 
 
 Then she grew pink. It would be convenient, 
 at this moment, to inherit fifty thousand pounds. 
 
 Golden visions appeared to her. She began to 
 feel * good.' All sorts of things that she wanted 
 badly, and many that it would be nice to have, 
 recurred to her mind. She would have an electric 
 
 32
 
 36 ROSABEL 
 
 brougham, which is so much more useful than a 
 pair of horses to a woman who goes out a great 
 deal, and refurnish the boudoir. And she would 
 not go down to Torquay. What was the use of 
 depressing herself needlessly ? The lawyers could 
 attend to the funeral arrangements. She could do 
 no good whatever if she went. 
 
 Having mapped out her plans with her usual 
 decision, she rose at once and wrote a polite reply 
 to Miss Bateman's letter, and another to the soli- 
 citors who had charge of Miss Dudgeon's affairs. 
 Then she went out to order mourning. Fortunately, 
 she looked well in black, and there would be no 
 necessity to have crape for an aunt whom nobody 
 knew. 
 
 Alighting from her victoria at the door of a 
 famous * mourning ' house in Regent Street, she 
 encountered Alec Aylmer. 
 
 * You have recovered ?' he inquired. 
 
 ' Recovered ?' she repeated vaguely. ' Oh yes.' 
 She had really forgotten for the moment what had 
 happened yesterday. * I have had news this 
 morning,' she added, * which has driven every- 
 thing else into the background. Aunt Eliza is 
 dead.' 
 
 * Indeed. I condole with you,' he said conven- 
 tionally. 
 
 * I am just going to Kay's to order clothes,' she 
 said. ' I think mourning is a relic of barbarism,
 
 ROSABEL 37 
 
 but one must respect the prejudices of an aunt who 
 leaves fifty thousand pounds.' 
 
 ' Then I am to congratulate as well as to condole ?' 
 he asked. 
 
 ' I haven't heard about the will yet,' she answered, 
 ' but I am quite easy. There are people who never 
 dream of leaving their money out of " the family," 
 and she was one of them. I am the only relative 
 she had in the world.' 
 
 ' Well, fifty thousand pounds is a comfortable sum.' 
 
 It would be very comfortable. She was none the 
 less resolved to marry the urbane gentleman who 
 stood talking to her on the pavement. He looked 
 very handsome this morning, quite someone to be 
 proud of, and when their eyes met by chance her 
 heart beat like a girl's. 
 
 ' I shall cancel my engagements for a week or 
 two,' she said, ' but that won't prevent my being 
 at home to my best friends. Are you engaged for 
 this evening ?' 
 
 ' Unfortunately, yes.' 
 
 ' Then lunch to-morrow ?' 
 
 ' Thanks.' 
 
 They parted with a tender glance on the woman's 
 part, and a responsive pressure of the hand on the 
 man's. 
 
 * He is a dear fellow,' she murmured. ' Really, I 
 like him very much.' 
 
 If she were not already in love she would have
 
 38 ROSABEL 
 
 been in love this morning. Fifty thousand pounds 
 made her heart so soft. 
 
 All the afternoon she was occupied with dress- 
 makers and milliners. She dined alone. By the 
 last post came a letter from the solicitors, as she had 
 expected ; but it was registered, and contained an 
 enclosure, which she had not expected. 
 
 ' DEAR MADAM, 
 
 ' We have the honour to inform you that 
 the late Miss Eliza Dudgeon, by her last will, has 
 bequeathed to you, on certain conditions, a life 
 interest in her entire estate, valued roughly at 
 fifty-one thousand pounds. Our junior partner, 
 Mr. Gell, will be pleased to see you either here or 
 at your own address, as you may appoint, to read 
 the will to you and receive your instructions. 
 
 ' Our senior partner, Mr. Geary, as executor of 
 Miss Eliza Dudgeon, has despatched a representa- 
 tive to Torquay to wind up her affairs and make 
 the necessary arrangements for the funeral, which 
 will be communicated to you in due course. 
 
 * Meanwhile, we beg to forward you the enclosed 
 packet, placed in our hands some months ago by 
 Miss Eliza Dudgeon, with instructions that it 
 should be delivered to you at her death. 
 
 ' Awaiting your reply, 
 
 'We remain, madam, 
 
 ' Yours faithfully, 
 
 ' GEARY AND GELL.'
 
 ROSABEL 39 
 
 A pensive expression dawned on Mrs. Fairbourne's 
 face. It ended with a frown. 
 
 ' A life interest !' she repeated. ' Only a life 
 interest ! Conditions /' 
 
 She became suddenly afraid of the enclosure, 
 which was sealed and addressed in a shaky hand, 
 as though the old woman had written it herself. 
 The touch of drama supplied by this message from 
 the grave affected her unpleasantly. Aunt Eliza 
 had never had anything agreeable to say to her in 
 her life. Why had she written ? 
 
 ' Conditions,' murmured Mrs. Fairbourne again 
 ' conditions !' 
 
 A queer sensation came over her, as sometimes 
 happened when a thunderstorm was brewing. She 
 felt certain that she would not like what she Was 
 about to read. But it was useless to postpone the 
 inevitable. She was curious, too. Nevertheless, 
 before breaking the seal, she walked to the window, 
 and threw it open wider to the soft breaths of air 
 which found their way down the street from the Park. 
 
 ' MY DEAR AMY,' she read, 
 
 ' We have never liked each other. Let that 
 pass. I am an old woman ; you still call yourself 
 a young one, I understand. You think I am a 
 dowd ; what I think of you is stated below. Never- 
 theless, I am concerned for your soul. If I had 
 nothing to leave, I should not waste time in re-
 
 4 o 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 iterating my opinion of your behaviour concerning 
 a matter upon which we have always disagreed. 
 But as the testatrix of fifty thousand pounds I can 
 purchase your attention, at least. 
 
 ' It is my request that you should publicly 
 acknowledge your daughter born in lawful wedlock, 
 take her to live with you until she marries, and try 
 to repair your disgraceful neglect of her in the past. 
 As reward, I leave you the life interest of my 
 estate, the capital to devolve upon her at your 
 death. If you refuse to perform this obvious duty, 
 which only false pride, egotism, and heartless in- 
 difference to the most ordinary maternal instinct 
 could have induced you to disregard so long, Rosabel 
 will inherit my estate at once, and you will be left 
 out. It is for you to choose. 
 
 * Your affectionate aunt, 
 
 ' ELIZA DUDGEON.' 
 
 For fully half a minute Mrs. Fairbourne did not 
 stir. The shock was so great that she was stunned. 
 
 Then she crushed the letter in her hands, with a 
 hissing sound such as a cat makes when it spits. If 
 Aylmer had seen her at this moment, he would not 
 have thought her charming. The true woman, 
 greedy, selfish, venomous, glittered in her eyes. 
 
 * The old beast !' she exclaimed. * The old devil ! 
 She has done it on purpose to spite me. My soul, 
 forsooth !'
 
 ROSABEL 41 
 
 She rose, inhaling a deep breath of passion. She 
 saw nothing but malice in Miss Dudgeon's testa- 
 ment. As the sour old maid could not take her 
 money with her, she had done her best to make her 
 heir smart for it. 
 
 ' If the girl were a baby still it wouldn't matter,' 
 mused Mrs. Fairbourne, clawing at her handker- 
 chief in hysterical rage till the hem gave way. ' But 
 a grown woman a woman looking full her age and 
 more . . . after all these years !' 
 
 She closed her eyes, and recalled the image of 
 Rosabel at the inn Rosabel, who had mended her 
 gown. And this insane old woman actually pro- 
 posed that she should take up this girl, reeking of 
 beer, and present her, without explanation, to the 
 world of art and letters ! 
 
 ' It is a plot for a farce or a tragedy,' she moaned. 
 1 Good God ! what is one to do ?' 
 
 Fifty thousand pounds was a lot of money. If 
 only a small sum had been at stake, she would have 
 let it go, hard up as she was, and trusted to Aylmer 
 to come to the rescue. 
 
 Fifty thousand pounds ! 
 
 She cried by-and-by. She had not done such a 
 weak thing for years, but the situation was beyond 
 her. Her only hope was for an evasion of some 
 sort. 
 
 She sent for Aylmer in the morning. Her clever- 
 ness was quite aware that a man likes to be appealed
 
 42 ROSABEL 
 
 to for advice by the woman for whom he has a 
 penchant. 
 
 His prompt arrival found her white-faced and 
 plaintive after a sleepless night. 
 
 ' What do you think of me,' she asked, ' for bother- 
 ing you ? But I am worried to death, and I have 
 no man belonging to me.' 
 
 * You know,' he said, ' how delighted I am to 
 serve you in any way. What has gone wrong ?' 
 
 ' My expectations,' she said. ' I always knew 
 that Aunt Eliza was an old cat, but she has served 
 me the most exasperating trick conceivable. She 
 has left me a life interest only in her money a life 
 interest, and conditional. I have to acknowledge 
 Rosabel.' 
 
 ' What ?' he exclaimed. * Your daughter ?' 
 
 She whimpered. 
 
 * Did you ever hear anything like it ? I am so 
 disgusted and angry that I don't know what to do.' 
 
 Aylmer dropped into a chair, and crossed his 
 legs. 
 
 ' Let us be calm,' he said. ' On the one side we 
 have to consider some two thousand a year, I pre- 
 sume ; on the other William's daughter. You'd 
 like the money ?' 
 
 * Of course I should.' 
 
 ' It's a great deal, certainly.' He swung a patent- 
 leather boot. ' Well, why not ? Your course is 
 obvious. You must take the girl.'
 
 ROSABEL 43 
 
 ' It's easy for you to talk !' said Mrs. Fairbourne 
 fractiously. 
 
 His amusement refused to be stifled any longer. 
 
 * Why ? Is she so objectionable ? I thought she 
 was rather pretty.' 
 
 * You laugh at everything !' she said. ' You are 
 the worst confidant I ever came across !' 
 
 ' My dear Amy,' he said, ' bring your sense of 
 humour to bear upon the proposition, and you will 
 laugh also !' 
 
 ' I have been crying,' she declared. 
 
 ' Really ? I don't believe it ! You are too much 
 the woman of the world. After all, you will be 
 well paid.' 
 
 ' Everyone will wonder so,' she said. ' How shall 
 I account for * keeping her in the dark all these 
 years ?' 
 
 * Ah ! there you have me on toast. Would it be 
 possible to tell the truth by any chance ?' 
 
 ' The truth ?' she queried uncertainly. 
 
 ' Not possible, you think ?' His tone was a trifle 
 subtle. Was there also a sub-current of malice 
 beneath the humour in his eyes ? ' Perhaps you are 
 right. It is useless, as you say, to be original in 
 these days.' 
 
 She was considering, and did not notice him. 
 
 ' Oh, I won't have her !' she cried. ' It would be 
 too ridiculous !' 
 
 ' Don't let me persuade you,' he said lightly.
 
 44 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 ' In such a matter a matter of inclination,- a 
 matter of the heart every soul must be its own 
 dictator.' 
 
 ' How flippant you are !* she said, frowning. 
 ' Is this what you call giving me serious advice ?' 
 
 ' You wrong me,' he continued. ' I am the most 
 serious man in London.' 
 
 She laughed at last, and he laughed ; but her 
 mirth rang hollow, and she checked herself abruptly. 
 
 ' Sometimes I don't understand you a bit,' she 
 said. * Perhaps you were serious, after all ? You 
 alluded to a " matter of the heart." Of course, 
 there is no question of " heart " about it. I don't 
 believe in natural feeling. Why should I feel 
 maternal towards a grown girl I have only 
 seen once, by accident, since she was an infant, 
 just because I happen to have given birth to 
 her?' 
 
 * Don't scold me,' said Aylmer. ' I say nothing. 
 It is your own affair.' 
 
 ' What shall I do ?' she insisted. 
 
 He smiled again. 
 
 ' Just what you like as we all do.' 
 
 ' I have been spending the extra two thousand a 
 year,' she said. * I really can't give it up. What 
 will she think ?' 
 
 ' She will welcome the change, no doubt, from the 
 Angler's Inn to Great Cumberland Place.' 
 
 ' If I were a rich woman I wouldn't contemplate
 
 ROSABEL 45 
 
 it for a moment,' she sighed ; ' but, under the cir- 
 cumstances ' 
 
 ' You will ?' 
 
 * I suppose I must. But it is most aggravating.' 
 
 ' The next time I come,' he said, ' I shall find 
 Miss Rosabel here ! Can I be of any assistance in 
 the matter ?' 
 
 ' There is nothing to do. I shall write to the 
 solicitors, and say that I accept the conditions and 
 fetch Rosabel.' 
 
 ' Do let me come with you,' he begged mischiev- 
 ously. 
 
 ' Certainly not !' she replied.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AFTER all she did not fetch Rosabel. The prospect 
 of such a dramatic return to the Angler's Inn was 
 too much for her. She requested Mr. Cell to nego- 
 tiate the matter. As he had been the medium 
 of communication throughout, it seemed a proper 
 proceeding to her mind. 
 
 The lawyer went. He was middle-aged, dapper, a 
 bit of a swell, and he ran down from the office to the 
 riverside village one afternoon in a silk hat and a 
 frock coat. 
 
 Rosabel happened to be the first person he saw on 
 reaching the Angler's Inn, and he guessed who she 
 was at once. 
 
 ' I have private business with Mrs. Collins,' he 
 said. ' Will you kindly give her my card and ask 
 if I can see her ?' 
 
 He gazed at the girl curiously as she took it. 
 Rosabel despaired of herself unnecessarily. There 
 was nothing common in her appearance, and to-day, 
 in a cotton blouse, she looked both pretty and 
 refined. 
 
 46
 
 ROSABEL 47 
 
 She conducted him to the bar parlour, which was 
 empty, while she went to fetch her aunt. The card 
 told her that the dapper gentleman was a lawyer, 
 but she had no reason to suspect that his visit con- 
 cerned herself, and returned to continue feeding a 
 pair of magnificent cart-horses with sugar. 
 
 Probably a quarter of an hour had passed when 
 Mrs. Collins came out. 
 
 * Rosabel,' she said, ' go into the parlour. The 
 gentleman wants to speak to you.' 
 
 The woman's voice was tremulous and subdued, 
 and her florid complexion had faded a trifle. Ob- 
 viously something had happened. 
 
 ' He wants to speak to me !' repeated Rosabel in 
 surprise. 
 
 ' Yes ; he's a lawyer, you know the lawyer who 
 always sends your money.' 
 
 Rosabel looked at her aunt earnestly under her 
 lashes, and plaited the corner of her muslin apron. 
 
 ' What has he come for ?' 
 
 ' He'll tell you. Go along.' 
 
 The girl went indoors, and opened the parlour- 
 door slowly. Mr. Cell, standing at the window, 
 turned to greet her with amiable speculation. 
 
 ' I thought,' he said, ' that you must be Miss 
 Rosabel ! I have come down from London on 
 business of yours. Let me introduce myself. My 
 name is Gell, of Geary and Gell. We are er Mrs. 
 Fairbourne's solicitors.'
 
 48 ROSABEL 
 
 * Who is Mrs. Fairbourne ?' inquired Rosabel. 
 
 ' Why, your mother, to be sure !' he said, sur- 
 prised and amused. 
 
 The girl stood at the table, with red cheeks and 
 lowering brows. 
 
 4 What is the matter ?' she asked. 
 
 Her brusqueness was disconcerting. Neverthe- 
 less, he renewed an ill-timed geniality. 
 
 ' Won't you sit down, Miss Carpenter ? We 
 should be able to talk more comfortably.' 
 
 Rosabel took a chair at the table, and Mr. Gell 
 seated himself opposite. 
 
 * I am here,' he resumed, * at Mrs. Fairbourne's 
 request, to make a communication to you which 
 will lead to important changes in your life. You 
 are aware, I presume, of the history of your birth ?' 
 
 He might have been the family lawyer of the 
 stage, but he had no sense of humour, and Rosabel 
 read novelettes. 
 
 * She ran away with my father, and was ashamed 
 of it afterwards,' said Rosabel, * so she didn't want 
 me, because I was his daughter.' 
 
 * You put it harshly, Miss Carpenter.' 
 
 ' I don't see any other way of putting it,' said 
 Rosabel. 
 
 ' She was very young, and obeyed her father, and 
 afterwards her husband her second husband,' cor- 
 rected the diplomatic Gell gently. ' You must 
 make allowances, my dear young lady indeed, you
 
 ROSABEL 49 
 
 must. Of course, you know that she has always 
 supported you ?' 
 
 Rosabel nodded, and stirred impatiently. 
 
 ' She would have come herself this afternoon but 
 for the awkwardness of taking you unprepared, 
 especially after her visit the other day.' 
 
 ' What visit ?' demanded the girl. 
 
 ' It was on Wednesday, I believe. She was with 
 a gentleman.' 
 
 Rosabel's red face turned white. 
 
 ' Is she fair and pale, with golden hair ?' she 
 asked breathlessly. ' Did she wear a blue dress 
 trimmed with lace, and a picture hat ?' 
 
 ' I don't know about the attire,' said Mr. Gell, 
 ' but the rest of the description is correct.' 
 
 Odd little twitches caught Rosabel's brows, her 
 nostrils, the muscles of her mouth. She sat silent, 
 staring at the lawyer. 
 
 * She wants you to go and live with her,' he said 
 deliberately, ' at her house in Great Cumberland 
 Place, London.' 
 
 ' She really wants me ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; she will be ready to receive you as soon as 
 you can come. I was to tell you so.' 
 
 A look of surprise came into the girl's eyes. She 
 was stirred to the heart by a misconception, which 
 was natural enough. Her lips trembled ; she could 
 not speak. Her face was transfigured by a holy 
 radiance.
 
 50 ROSABEL 
 
 She thought that this lovely lady, who was her 
 mother, had taken a fancy to her, and that the 
 promptings of maternal love, awakened at last, had 
 dictated the lawyer's visit. 
 
 Mr. Gell was not an imaginative man. 
 
 ' You see,' he continued, ' there is a large sum of 
 money involved. Your mother's aunt, Miss Eliza 
 Dudgeon, of Torquay, has left her the income of 
 fifty thousand pounds on condition that she acknow- 
 ledges you ' 
 
 His voice turned to a meaningless buzz in Rosa- 
 bel's ears. Only when, at the end of his speech, he 
 repeated a sentence twice, did she understand that 
 he was congratulating her on being heiress to fifty 
 thousand pounds. 
 
 * You mean that I get fifty thousand pounds at 
 at Mrs. Fairbourne's death ?' she asked at last. 
 
 ' Yes. A nice sum, Miss Carpenter.' 
 ' I can't have any of it now, can I ?' 
 ' No ; but as you will reside with your mother, 
 you will not require it.' 
 Rosabel looked up. 
 
 * Suppose I don't want to live with my mother ?' 
 she queried. 
 
 ' We won't assume anything so improbable,' 
 replied Mr. Gell, slightly taken aback, nevertheless. 
 ' Of course, you will be glad to exchange your 
 present surroundings for your mother's home. 
 You may not be aware that Mrs. Fairbourne resides
 
 ROSABEL 51 
 
 in the most fashionable part of London, with all 
 the elegance and luxury suited to her birth and 
 position. Your mode of existence would be very 
 different from what you are accustomed to 
 here.' 
 
 The girl's eyes brooded on the lawyer's face. She 
 had a child-like way of staring sometimes, which 
 disconcerted the person stared at without revealing 
 the least self-consciousness on her part. 
 
 * But suppose,' she persisted, ' I don't want to 
 live with her ? She can't make me, can she ?' 
 
 ' Until you are of age, or married, your mother is 
 your legal guardian, and you must obey her.' He 
 hesitated. ' When you are twenty-one it will be 
 in your power to release her formally from the 
 obligation imposed by Miss Dudgeon's will. I 
 mean, that if you did not choose to live with your 
 mother, and you signed a paper to that effect, she 
 would not lose her life interest in the money, because 
 the separation would be your fault.' 
 
 'I see,' said Rosabel. * Then all I have to do is 
 to wait till I am twenty-one. Two years isn't so 
 very long !' 
 
 He thought her a sullen, ungracious, and stupid 
 girl. She seemed to prefer the gutter to the draw- 
 ing-room ; the force of heredity, no doubt. Never- 
 theless, he felt it to be his duty to add a note of 
 warning. 
 
 ' But you must understand that if you elect, at 
 
 42
 
 52 ROSABEL 
 
 any age, to leave the home your mother provides 
 she is not obliged to support you.' 
 
 * That wouldn't matter,' said Rosabel. ' I air 
 used to being a servant. My aunt would take me 
 back or I could find another place.' 
 
 * I prophesy that you will change your mine 
 when you have tasted the pleasures of wealth,' saic 
 the lawyer, rising. * However, the future is for youi 
 own consideration. The present is what concerns 
 us at the moment. Mrs. Fairbourne wishes to kno\\ 
 when she is to expect you. Shall I say to-morrow 
 afternoon ?' 
 
 ' I don't care,' said Rosabel reluctantly. 
 
 Mr. Gell extended his hand with a half-smile. 
 
 ' Ah, my dear young lady, when you are a little 
 older, you will appreciate your good fortune !' 
 
 Rosabel accompanied him to the door. 
 
 Directly he had gone, her uncle and aunt came 
 out of the bar. 
 
 ' I'm to go to my mother to-morrow,' said 
 Rosabel. 
 
 * What ? Really !' exclaimed Mrs. Collins. ' I 
 couldn't believe it.' 
 
 She was all of a twitter with excitement. 
 
 ' And what's this about fifty thousand pounds ?' 
 asked Collins. 
 
 ' I'm to have fifty thousand pounds when my 
 mother dies.' 
 
 ' From a great-aunt you've never seen nor heard
 
 ROSABEL 53 
 
 of, too,' added Mrs. Collins. * Well, it do seem 
 strange ! Just like one of the stories you're always 
 readin', Rosabel.' 
 
 ' You'll be like a young princess,' said Collins. 
 
 The respect which the serving class, above all 
 others, pays to mere money was already visible in 
 his manner towards his wife's niece. No merit} 
 moral or intellectual, on Rosabel's part could have 
 inspired a similar regard in the ex-butler's breast. 
 
 ' I wonder how many servants she keeps !' 
 
 * I never saw such a lucky girl,' said his wife. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I'm very lucky,' said Rosabel. She 
 laughed. 
 
 ' What in the world is the matter with you now ?' 
 asked Mrs. Collins. * You've always had your nose 
 in the air, and now you're going to be a lady and 
 live on the fat of the land. What can you want 
 more ?' 
 
 As usual, when her ' tone ' was the subject of 
 complaint, Rosabel shut her mouth, and made no 
 reply. 
 
 ' What more can you want, I say ?' repeated her 
 aunt, with exasperation. 
 
 Two young gentlemen arrived at that moment, 
 demanding tea. The heiress to fifty thousand 
 pounds went away, without more ado, to wait on 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ALL night Rosabel lay awake thinking of to-morrow. 
 She had already packed her clothes and the few 
 trifles, in the way of birthday and Christmas presents, 
 which she cared to keep. In the morning there 
 would be nothing to do except to say good-bye to 
 the only real friend she had in the neighbour- 
 hood a lame girl, the daughter of the village 
 organist. 
 
 She did not feel at all excited. On the contrary, 
 there was a weight on her heart. The thought of 
 meeting her mother quite counterbalanced the 
 material advantages of the change. Her mother 
 did not really want her. Had it been otherwise, 
 as she had imagined at first, the girl would have 
 been glad enough to go. But she saw plainly that 
 she was being forced upon a woman to whom her 
 presence would be only less distasteful than the 
 loss of a large income. She would be entering a 
 new world among strangers, who would regard her 
 either as a nuisance or a joke, to live a life of com- 
 parative splendour without love. 
 
 54
 
 ROSABEL 55 
 
 If she had been still a child, it would not have 
 mattered. She would have had a proper educa- 
 tion, she would have taken root naturally in the 
 new soil, and grown up an equal among her mother's 
 class. But she was too old to go to school. With 
 habits and ideas already formed, she was to be 
 thrown into this new world unprepared, at the sen- 
 sitive and self-conscious age of budding woman- 
 hood. 
 
 When she heard the birds twittering at the window 
 in the dawn, a lump came to her throat, and she 
 realized for the first time that this place which she 
 had despised so much was home. She was not 
 looked down on here. Her aunt had shown her 
 affection, and the man had always been kind. 
 
 It was natural that she should fall asleep at last, 
 and come down to breakfast late. It was even 
 more natural that nobody should scold her. The 
 glamour of young ladyhood was over her. Collins 
 cut her bread-and-butter, and her aunt fetched her 
 fresh tea. All the morning, too, they stole furtive 
 glances at her as though she were a queen. She 
 was not expected to put her hand to anything ; and 
 again, as on her eventful birthday, there was her 
 favourite pudding for dinner, and a small bottle of 
 sweet, champagne. 
 
 Afterwards she said good-bye to the dog, to the 
 cat and kitten, the fowls which she had fed so many 
 times, the orchard, and the stable-yard, At three
 
 56 ROSABEL 
 
 o'clock a barrow came to the door to wheel the little 
 shabby tin trunk, which her aunt had given her, to 
 the station. 
 
 The woman threw her arms round the girl's neck, 
 and broke into loud weeping. 
 
 ' You'll forget us now,' she said. ' You'll never 
 come to the Angler's Inn again.' 
 
 ' Of course I shall come to see you, aunt,' said 
 Rosabel. 
 
 ' You know I was always fond of you, Rosabel. 
 I'm awful sorry you're goin'. If I've scolded some- 
 times, it's been the fault of your own queer sulky 
 temper, though* Gawd knows, I don't want to go 
 back on that now !' 
 
 * You've been very kind to me,' said Rosabel, 
 ' and I shall come soon.' 
 
 She returned the kisses, and felt like crying, too ; 
 but at the back of her mind was a memory which 
 restrained the tears. She could not help wondering 
 whether her aunt would have been as sorry to part 
 with her if she had not represented a hundred 
 pounds a year. 
 
 Collins took a second-class ticket for her, and 
 Rosabel started on her journey with a piece of 
 paper bearing her mother's address clasped tightly 
 in her hand. She had only been to London a 
 few times in her life, and then merely for the day ; 
 but her directions were explicit, so she could not 
 get lost. She was to take a cab, on arriving at Pad-
 
 ROSABEL 57 
 
 dington, and drive straight to Great Cumberland 
 Place. 
 
 Throughout the journey of fifty minutes the girl 
 sat erect and self-contained, absorbed in thought. 
 She tried to fancy how her mother would greet her* 
 and what the house would be like. She felt like a 
 servant going to a new place. There was the same 
 uncertainty about her reception and what would be 
 expected of her, the same sense of strangeness and 
 consciousness of her new gloves. 
 
 She went about her business methodically on 
 reaching London. Her box was found and put on 
 a four-wheeler, and the address given to the cab- 
 man. Then the roar of London descended upon 
 her, and her entity seemed to be caught up and 
 whirled along like a straw in a mighty stream. 
 
 She saw none of the streets through which she 
 passed. She sat in the cab as she had sat in the 
 train, rendered drowsy by the unreality of things. 
 Only when they turned a corner on which she saw 
 Great Cumberland Place written, something stirred 
 sharply within the girl at last, and her apathy gave 
 way to a sickening suspense. But, as usual with 
 her, to be shy was to show no more than an accen- 
 tuated impassiveness, and nobody would have 
 guessed how her heart was beating when the door 
 opened. 
 
 She was expected. Her box was brought into 
 the hall, and the butler conducted her upstairs.
 
 58 ROSABEL 
 
 The drawing-room was shaded by sun-blinds and 
 fragrant with the scent of flowers. A vague blur 
 of colour and the rustle of silken skirts greeted 
 Rosabel as Mrs. Fairbourne rose from the couch. 
 
 ' How do you do, Rosabel ?' said a soft, low, 
 cultivated voice. ' We have met before, you see, 
 but you did not know me ! I hope you will be 
 happy and comfortable with me, and that we shall 
 soon be good friends.' 
 
 Rosabel said nothing at all. 
 
 After a brief hesitation the lady, flushing, kissed 
 her daughter on the cheek. 
 
 ' Did you come alone ?' she asked. 
 
 * Yes,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' I thought they would have sent someone with 
 you. Do you know London ?' 
 
 * Not very well.' 
 
 * Your room is ready for you,' added Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne. ' I dare say you would like to take off 
 your things before tea, which will be up in a moment. 
 My maid will show you the way. Come down again 
 when you are ready.' 
 
 ' Yes, thank you,' said Rosabel. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne touched an electric bell twice, 
 and in the moment which elapsed before a smart 
 lady's-maid appeared, neither mother nor daughter 
 spoke. 
 
 'Show my Miss Carpenter to her room, 
 Brace.'
 
 ROSABEL 59 
 
 She had been on the point of saying 'my daughter,' 
 but had been really unable to bring out the word. 
 The whole affair made her feel so queer the girl's 
 silence and ' woodenness,' which was sullen rather 
 than gauche, and her own embarrassment a sen- 
 sation strange to her. She had intended to carry 
 off the ordeal with a light hand, but had failed to 
 attain the relieving note of comedy she had re- 
 hearsed. Was it going to be even worse than she 
 had expected ? 
 
 She sniffed at a bottle of smelling-salts. It was 
 absurd, she felt, to be upset. Two thousand a year 
 was worth a little unpleasantness. She would soon 
 grow used to Rosabel. 
 
 Her self-command had returned, and she was 
 prepared once more to cope with the situation by 
 the time someone knocked at the door. 
 
 ' Come in,' she said. 
 
 Rosabel entered. She had removed her hat and 
 jacket, and washed her face. Her short, ill-made 
 skirt and thick-soled shoes looked curiously incon- 
 gruous among the expensive fripperies of the London 
 drawing-room, and the girl realized it, with her 
 usual intuition, and her eyes clouded still more, and 
 the corners of her mouth deepened. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne, sitting with her back to the 
 light, smiled in faint amusement. 
 
 ' You need not knock at the sitting-room doors, 
 Rosabel.'
 
 6o ROSABEL 
 
 Rosabel crimsoned, perceiving that she had made 
 her first mistake. 
 
 ' Come and sit beside me,' added Mrs. Fairbourne, 
 graciously indicating the vacant place on the 
 couch. ' Are you glad or sorry to leave the Angler's 
 Inn?' 
 
 Rosabel considered. 
 
 ' I never liked it very much.' 
 
 ' I suppose your aunt was grieved to part v/ith 
 you ?' 
 
 ' She said so.' 
 
 ' And you had an affection for her, no doubt ? 
 You lived with her a great many years. I hope 
 she was kind to you, and that you were comfortable 
 on the whole ?' 
 
 * Yes,' said Rosabel. 
 
 * It's a pretty part of the country,' continued 
 Mrs. Fairbourne, in the pleasant, condescending tone 
 which a woman who does not understand children 
 uses to a strange child. * I thought the river was 
 lovely. It was singular that my launch should have 
 stopped so near, and that I should have come to the 
 Angler's Inn without knowing that you were there ! 
 I was surprised to find you such a big girl. I don't 
 think I had realized that you were grown up. Let 
 me see how old are you now ?' 
 
 Rosabel turned a gaze both sullen and fierce on 
 her mother. 
 ' Nineteen.'
 
 ROSABEL 61 
 
 ' Of course ! But you do not look as much,' said 
 Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 
 The girl's thick lashes drooped again. She began 
 to plait her dress, presenting no more of her face 
 to her mother than the curve of a full peach-like 
 cheek. 
 
 * Impossible? murmured Mrs. Fairbourne with a 
 shrug, under the cover of the opening door. * Here 
 is the tea,' she said aloud. * I am sure you must 
 want some after your journey.' 
 
 Rosabel's expression just now had positively 
 startled her. And she had given birth to this 
 young savage ! It was inconceivable. 
 
 She poured out the tea. 
 
 ' Do you take sugar and cream, Rosabel ? Help 
 yourself to cakes. To-morrow I must see about 
 getting you some decent clothes. Do you like 
 pretty things ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Rosabel. 
 
 Her hand shook at that moment, so that she was 
 afraid of spilling her tea, and her face flooded with 
 colour once more. The simple question touched 
 her thoughts curiously. She liked pretty things so 
 much that she would even have liked this pretty 
 thing who was her mother, and forgiven everything, 
 if Mrs. Fairbourne had only opened her arms and 
 asked for her love. The woman's elegance and 
 daintiness, the very perfume of violets which her 
 movements wafted abroad, captivated the imagina-
 
 62 ROSABEL 
 
 tion of the girl. Despite herself, she was attracted. 
 But no appeal of the right kind was made. 
 
 Rosabel averted her gaze. She would not look ; 
 she would not allow herself to soften. A moment 
 had passed which would never return. 
 
 ' Have you anything in the way of a dinner dress ?' 
 asked Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 
 ' I have a white silk blouse.' 
 ' It must do for to-night. I will get you a couple 
 of ready-made gowns to go on with. I can't see 
 you walking about like that. What do you usually 
 do with your spare time, Rosabel ?' 
 * I like reading.' 
 
 ' That is very fortunate. Perhaps you could find 
 something to amuse you on that table over there 
 while I write some letters ?' 
 
 Amy Fairbourne detested writing letters, but 
 anything was better than trying to make conversa- 
 tion for her daughter. She settled herself at her 
 escritoire with a sigh of relief, and Rosabel made a 
 selection from the latest volumes from the ' Gros- 
 vnor,' and sat down as far from her mother as 
 possible. 
 
 But the girl could not read. Outwardly stolid, 
 she was feverish within. While Mrs. Fairbourne 
 scribbled off her notes, she sat staring vacantly at 
 the pages of * Lord Jim,' turning over a leaf now 
 and then to keep up the pretence of occupation. 
 At intervals her eyes went on a furtive voyage
 
 ROSABEL 63 
 
 round the room. She thought it was beautiful, 
 and she was right. Mrs. Fairbourne had exquisite 
 taste ; she collected old china ; an eminent artist 
 had helped her to choose the water-colours on the 
 walls ; and Aylmer had sent her the basket of 
 flowers which occupied a Chippendale table and 
 perfumed the entire room. 
 
 ' And this,' thought Rosabel, ' is my mother's 
 house, and this is my mother.' 
 
 She had to say it to herself a great many times ; 
 it seemed so impossible. She felt more of an alien 
 at this moment than she had ever felt at the Angler's 
 Inn. Perhaps the strangeness would wear off. 
 At present she did not believe that she could grow 
 used to it. She was afraid to move. 
 
 When Mrs. Fairbourne had used up all her arrears 
 of correspondence, she rose from the table, smiled 
 at Rosabel, and chose a book herself. In her set 
 it was necessary to keep up with the literary output 
 of the day, and to do so she had to utilize every 
 spare moment. 
 
 There was no interruption till seven. 
 
 * Now I am going to dress,' she said. ' You need 
 not go up for another half-hour unless you choose. 
 Dinner is at eight.' 
 
 She left Rosabel alone. 
 
 The girl rose then. She had a sensation of being 
 a mere visitor. She did not belong here. She was 
 tolerated merely because she represented two
 
 64 ROSABEL 
 
 thousand a year. Only that the amount of the bribe 
 differed with the social position of the bribed, she 
 stood exactly in the same relationship to her mother, 
 she perceived, as she had stood to her aunt. Why, 
 if nobody wanted her for herself, had she ever been 
 born ? 
 
 She pressed her face against the window, and 
 gazed with sombre eyes, to which tears were welling, 
 at the blank faces of the mansions over the way.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MRS. FAIRBOURNE was alone in the drawing-room 
 when Alec Aylmer was shown in. 
 
 ' Thank goodness, you haven't disappointed me !' 
 she cried dramatically. 
 
 ' It's very kind of you.' 
 
 ' Not at all. I should welcome anyone to-night. 
 I was afraid that you would meet with an accident, 
 or that your mother would send for you to Shrop- 
 shire, or that there would be a black fog in June to 
 keep you away. And then I should have had to 
 dine all alone with Rosabel !' 
 
 * Ah, Rosabel !' he said. ' Then she has arrived ? 
 How do you find her ?' 
 
 * A perfect little clodhopper, as you might sup- 
 pose. Not a morsel of conversation, answers in 
 monosyllables when spoken to, and shuts up at a 
 touch like a limpet on a rock.' 
 
 * Perhaps you frighten her,' he suggested. 
 
 ' If I do, I can't help it. I am sure I received her 
 most amiably, and I have promised to take her out 
 shopping to-morrow in self-defence, as a matter of 
 
 65 5
 
 66 ROSABEL 
 
 fact. Where do you think this sort of people get their 
 clothes ? Is the finished article imported by the 
 village shop, or do they buy remnants at a sale 
 in the Edgware Road, and "make them up" at 
 home ?' 
 
 ' I wonder,' said Aylmer, with an air of profundity. 
 ' Do you think Gough would know ?' 
 
 ' He would never admit that he didn't. He 
 would put us off the scent by describing the exact 
 fashion of skins in vogue in the Stone Age, and bring 
 us down, via Roman togas, to the ceremonial cos- 
 tume of the Patagonian of to-day. By that time 
 everyone would be tired j and the subject would be 
 changed, and Cough's reputation for knowing 
 everything saved. Oh, how is it that I can laugh ? 
 My temper must be that of an angel. Just think 
 how she will cut up a dinner-table my dinner- 
 table, which has always been above reproach.' 
 
 ' Can't she dine in the nursery when you have 
 guests ?' 
 
 ' Now you are trying to be funny,' said Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne severely. 
 
 ' Send her to school.' 
 
 ' At nineteen years of age ? Besides, there's the 
 old cat's will. I must have her with me.' 
 
 ' Well, marry her.' 
 
 ' That isn't a bad idea, but it isn't so easy. Good 
 God ! that ever I should come to be a woman with 
 a daughter to marry !'
 
 ROSABEL 67 
 
 ' She's not a bad-looking girl,' he said, leaning 
 lazily against the mantelshelf, ' and there are plenty 
 of boys about.' 
 
 ' Yes, but we're in the wrong set for that sort of 
 thing the most difficult of all. The young fellows 
 we know are just beginning professions, and are on 
 the look-out for money ; and the older men, whose 
 positions are made, are already married, or else 
 they want a brilliant woman who can entertain a 
 dinner-table.' 
 
 ' I dare say you are right. But she will have 
 money.' 
 
 ' When I die,' retorted Mrs. Fairbourne. ' Thank 
 you, but I am not going to die before my time 
 in order to give Rosabel a dower !' 
 
 ' She may be somebody's taste, nevertheless.' 
 
 ' You are too sanguine,' she moaned. ' It's 
 no good a girl having decent features nowadays 
 if she isn't bright. Only absolute beauty could 
 overcome the disadvantages of her lack of 
 manner.' 
 
 * Lord Pentormel married Dolly Vere of the 
 Empire ballet the other day.' 
 
 ' Oh, she had bad manners, which are better than 
 none ! Besides, he was a lord. I am talking about 
 mere men men of intellect, the salt of the earth. 
 Fancy any of us with Rosabel ! It will gain me a 
 mortal enemy every time I choose her a partner for 
 dinner !' 
 
 52
 
 68 ROSABEL 
 
 The door opened at that moment, and Rosabel 
 entered. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne and Aylmer left off talking, and 
 gazed at her. 
 
 The girl had put on the white silk blouse with her 
 Sunday skirt. Once it had pleased her, but she 
 had been told that her clothes were frightful, and 
 could well believe it. That alone would have made 
 her self-conscious and clumsy without the unex- 
 pected appearance of Aylmer, and the silence and 
 half-suppressed amusement which greeted her en- 
 trance convincing her that she had been the subject 
 of conversation. 
 , She grew red and sullen. 
 
 ' Come and be introduced to Mr. Aylmer,' said 
 her mother. * I think you have seen him before, 
 Rosabel ?' 
 
 Aylmer extended his hand, smiling. 
 ' Yes, we have certainly met before, Miss Car- 
 penter !' 
 
 ' For goodness' sake, don't call her Miss Carpenter !' 
 ' I wouldn't dare to take the liberty of calling her 
 Rosabel.' 
 
 ' I give you leave,' said Mrs. Fairbourne. * I 
 think I shall drop the Carpenter altogether, and 
 call her Fairbourne. Different names would only 
 lead to confusion.' 
 
 Rosabel's hand, absolutely unresponsive t dropped 
 from the man's.
 
 ROSABEL 69 
 
 ' What will Miss Rosabel have to say to that ?' 
 
 * Nothing, of course !' replied Mrs. Fairbourne a 
 trifle sharply. * Such matters are for me to decide.' 
 
 He found Amy Fairbourne, in the role of 'mamma,' 
 decidedly entertaining. She meant to have the 
 upper hand, that was evident, and she would get 
 it. The masterly manner in which she always 
 obtained her own way in social matters, secured the 
 celebrities she wanted for her dinners and At Homes, 
 defeated presumptuous rivals, and monopolized the 
 attention of the best men in the room, had filled 
 him with amused admiration many times. Now he 
 was to have the pleasure of watching her skate, 
 with her usual grace, across the thinnest of ice, 
 dragging this undesirable daughter behind her, and 
 escaping as he was sure she would escape the 
 dousing she deserved. 
 
 Dinner was announced, and Aylmer offered his 
 arm to his hostess. Rosabel followed them down- 
 stairs. It made the girl feel more than ever an out- 
 sider that her mother should have a guest to dinner 
 on her first day. She was to be criticised by two 
 pairs of eyes> it seemed, instead of one. Her mis- 
 takes were to be witnessed by this man who was 
 nothing to do with her. Already she disliked him, 
 and his ill-timed presence gave her fresh food for 
 resentment against her mother, who showed such 
 lack of consideration for her natural strangeness in 
 these new surroundings.
 
 7 o ROSABEL 
 
 The dinner itself did not minimize her discomfort. 
 It began with hors d'ceuvres, which she had never 
 seen before, and she hesitated and reddened over 
 caviare, prawns, and olives, and eventually declined 
 all. The multitude of knives and forks on the 
 table confused her, also the fact that certain dishes 
 were handed round, and that she was expected to 
 help herself instead of being served, as she had been 
 accustomed to. Things were disguised, too, by 
 strange sauces, and she did not know whether they 
 were fish or flesh until she discovered, in an agony 
 of humiliation, that she had taken the wrong knife 
 and fork. 
 
 Scarcely a remark was addressed to her through 
 three courses. Mrs. Fairbourne led the conversa- 
 tion, and Aylmer made no attempt to break loose 
 and draw out Rosabel, being as indifferent as most 
 men of the world to the undeveloped ingenue. So 
 they talked over the girl's head, as though they 
 were alone or she were a child, of people she did not 
 know, places she had never seen, and things she did 
 not understand. And realizing that she was being 
 ignored, Rosabel grew more and more sullen. 
 
 Her secret sensitiveness, which nobody had 
 troubled to discern, received a final shock when, in 
 attempting to cut the ice-cream pyramid presented 
 to her, she shot a large piece on to the floor. It was 
 an accident which might have happened to anybody, 
 and a woman would have laughed and turned it into
 
 ROSABEL 71 
 
 a joke. But to Rosabel the accident completed the 
 revelation of her awkwardness and ignorance, and 
 she seemed to hear her mother's voice as the blood 
 rushed to her head : 
 
 ' What is your name ? You remind me of a 
 servant I had once.' 
 
 Yes, she was hopelessly common, ill-mannered, 
 ill-bred. Everybody must see it. No doubt the 
 dignified butler was smiling in his sleeve. 
 
 Aylmer was smiling, at any rate, although he 
 meant no more than good-natured reassurance. 
 
 ' Never mind, Rosabel,' said her mother. ' It 
 doesn't matter.' 
 
 Benson brought a large spoon and a plate, and 
 scooped up the mess, and Rosabel's cheeks did not 
 cool until the coffee and liqueurs diverted her atten- 
 tion from herself. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne took a cigarette out of a silver 
 box, which she passed to Aylmer, who also helped 
 himself. He struck a light, and offered it to his 
 hostess as a matter of course. 
 
 Rosabel stared. She had never seen such a thing. 
 
 ' Do you smoke, Miss Rosabel ?' he asked. 
 
 ' No,' said Rosabel brusquely ; ' I shouldn't have 
 been allowed to.' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne's thin, well-shaped lips curled. 
 She exchanged glances with Aylmer, and they both 
 looked at Rosabel as though she were a specimen of 
 an unknown breed.
 
 72 ROSABEL 
 
 1 Why ? Isn't it the fashion at the Angler's 
 
 Inn?' 
 
 A slow fire burned in the girl's eyes. She grew 
 fierce and rude under the hated goad of ridicule ; 
 she was like a wild animal newly trapped, and baited 
 by the oppressors. 
 
 ' I thought it was only drunken old Irish women 
 who smoked !' she said. ' I never saw a lady 
 do it !' 
 
 ' You have still a great deal to see and to learn,' 
 returned her mother quietly. ' Won't you try the 
 Creme de Menthe, Mr. Aylmer ?' 
 
 Rosabel longed to get up and rush from the room. 
 She had disgraced herself thoroughly this time, and 
 the ease with which her mother passed to another 
 subject, and the man helped to cover the awkward 
 moment, pointed still more plainly to her own in- 
 feriority. Nevertheless, she had the consciousness 
 of indirect provocation to support her. It was only 
 an infinitesimal part of the great wrong which had 
 been done to her from birth a sprig of the tree 
 which had been growing with her growth. 
 
 When they went back to the drawing-room, she 
 made no pretence of joining in the conversation, or 
 even associating with her mother and her mother's 
 guest. She sat apart, away from the carefully- 
 shaded electric lights, glancing now and then at the 
 pair who talked so lightly and so well. 
 
 She picked up an illustrated journal by-and-by,
 
 ROSABEL 73 
 
 and made a pretence of looking at the pictures. It 
 was a relief when the clock struck ten, and her 
 mother spoke over her shoulder to the girl. 
 
 ' I dare say you are tiredj Rosabel ? You may 
 go to bed if you like.' 
 
 Rosabel got up slowly. She was wondering, in a 
 flood of uneasiness, how she was expected to say 
 good-night to her mother. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne solved the difficulty, which had 
 not existed for her part. 
 
 She nodded to her daughter, who had shaken 
 hands with Aylmer and stood awkwardly waiting. 
 
 ' If you want anything, you can ring for Brace. 
 Tell her at what hour you wish to be called in the 
 morning. I never come down to breakfast. You 
 can have yours when you please. Good-night, my 
 dear.' 
 
 She added something under her breath in French 
 to Aylmer before the door closed, and Rosabel 
 heard them laughing. 
 
 The girl went up to bed with tingling cheeks and 
 trembling lips, her eyes half blind. 
 
 ' I hate her !' she cried passionately. ' I hate 
 her!' 
 
 It was true, but hatred was not the only emotion 
 which tore at her heart. Mingled with it was a 
 grudging admiration of her mother, a fierce jealousy 
 of those attributes which lack of education had 
 placed beyond her reach. No graceful move-
 
 74 ROSABEL 
 
 ment or gesture of Mrs. Fairbourne's, none of the 
 evidence^ so continuously given, of mental cul- 
 ture,- ready wit^ and knowledge of the worldj had 
 escaped the notice of the girl who seemed to notice 
 nothing. And as she undressed slowly, she went 
 over the incidents of the evening again and again,- 
 remembering, with strange distinctness, almost 
 everything her mother had said, and how she had 
 looked when she said it; and the tones of her 
 voice ; and in contrast she drew a picture of 
 herself, with a fantastic self-depreciation which 
 was almost loathing herself, awkward, silent f 
 and sullen with conscious ignorance and injured 
 pride a lump of coal beside a diamond, a monster 
 beside a fairy queen. 
 
 She looked at her hands, which were always red, 
 and the first finger roughened by much coarse 
 needlework in the way of household mending ; at 
 her waist thickened by the wearing of cheap corsets ; 
 at the colour in her cheeks. She admired a tapering 
 figure and long white fingers, and a colourless face, 
 and carmine lips everything, in fact, which seemed 
 to her the archetype of refinement, and was her 
 mother's, and not hers. Even her coarse under- 
 clothes reproached her to-night. She could not 
 pray. Whatever her faults might be, she was not a 
 hypocrite, and would not return thanks when she 
 could find nothing to be thankful for.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ROSABEL did not know what to do with herself after 
 breakfast in the morning. She was not used to 
 having her time at her own disposal. The house 
 was as silent at nine o'clock as though it were still 
 the middle of the night, and there were only a few 
 tradesmen's carts, and a footman taking a poodle 
 for an airing, to be seen out of doors. 
 
 Having examined the contents of the dining- 
 room, she went to the drawing-room to find a 
 book. There seemed to be only two reception- 
 rooms in the tiny but perfect house, and it surprised 
 her that a rich woman like her mother should care 
 to live in such a small place. She supposed it was 
 very expensive, however, as it was so near Hyde 
 Park. 
 
 She had grown tired of reading, and was wonder- 
 ing if she might go out, when her mother 
 entered. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne was all in black to-day. Her 
 mourning had arrived, and her fair hair and white 
 skin were thrown up by the contrast. She looked 
 
 75
 
 76 ROSABEL 
 
 exceedingly well, in fact, and being aware of it made 
 her amiably disposed towards her daughter. 
 
 * Good-morning, Rosabel. How did you sleep ? 
 I got up early on purpose to do our shopping,' she 
 continued, without waiting for an answer. ' As 
 your great-aunt mentioned you in her will, you must 
 wear black for a little while. I shall only remain in 
 full mourning three months, and even less will do 
 for you. It seems a great expense for a few weeks. 
 You have had your breakfast ?' 
 
 * Yes, thank you.' 
 
 ' At the end of July we shall be going to the 
 country. You must have plenty of muslin and 
 cotton frocks nothing is prettier for a girl.' Mrs. 
 Fairbourne had been pondering, evidently, over 
 Aylmer's suggestion to get Rosabel married. ' I 
 want you to look your best,' she added. * Clothes 
 and carriage carriage is very important, Rosabel 
 make such a difference. What size shoes do you 
 wear ?' 
 
 ' Fours.' 
 
 ' Not a very small foot,' mused her mother, ' but 
 then you are a big girl. I must have your hands 
 manicured. I was noticing them last night. Red 
 hands and ill-kept nails are abominable.' 
 
 Rosabel coloured. 
 
 ' I kept them as well as I could,' she said. ' I had 
 work to do.' 
 
 * Yes, I know. We won't talk about that. I
 
 ROSABEL 77 
 
 am not reproaching you. By the way ' Mrs. 
 Fairbourne paused a moment, and then continued 
 deliberately ' there is something I wish to say 
 to you, Rosabel. I may have callers this after- 
 noon. Certainly you will be meeting my friends 
 soon. It is not necessary that you should mention 
 your antecedents to everyone.' 
 
 The girl raised her eyes questioningly. 
 
 ' I mean that you need not tell people where you 
 have been living, and with whom. It will be suffi- 
 cient to say, if you are asked, that you have been 
 living with your father's people. You understand ?' 
 
 ' I'm not going to tell lies about it,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' I didn't ask you to tell lies about it,' replied her 
 mother sharply. ' Only to say nothing at all. You 
 ought not to find that very difficult !' 
 
 The swift retort struck home. Rosabel's lids 
 drooped, and the sulky mouth closed. 
 
 There was silence. 
 
 ' I am going to put on my things,' added Mrs. 
 Fairbourne. ' You had better do the same.' 
 
 Her voice was smooth once more, but on her way 
 upstairs she frowned, and for an instant there was 
 a likeness, rarely discernible, between her and 
 Rosabel. 
 
 ' I hope this girl is not going to spoil my temper,' 
 she thought. ' There is nothing so ageing as ill- 
 temper, and I really can't afford, at my time of 
 life '
 
 78 ROSABEL 
 
 She looked in the glass anxiously when she 
 reached her room, and passed a soothing finger over 
 the skin at the corners of the eyes where crow's-feet 
 come, and wiped away the furrow she had just made 
 between her brows. 
 
 ' Rosabel scowls like a little devil. When she is 
 my age, she will be a mass of lines and wrinkles. 
 The lower classes never know how to educate their 
 faces. She is very like her father only not so 
 good-looking. What a pity she isn't a beauty 
 a real, striking beauty, who might have made a sen- 
 sation ! I should find it much easier to get on with 
 her.' 
 
 She deceived herself. If Rosabel had been 
 brilliant enough to cast her into the shade, her 
 indifference to the girl would have become dislike. 
 Rosabel had the youth, but she did not know how 
 to make the most of it. Although the woman 
 would not admit it to herself, the foil this shy, 
 awkward, heavy, and apparently stupid girl made 
 to her own brightness and polish, filled her with a 
 soothing sense of superiority, and took away some 
 of the annoyance of having her daughter forced 
 upon her. After all, the world was a pleasant place. 
 Her pecuniary position was now comfortable, and 
 she had had a note from Alec Aylmer by the morn- 
 ing's post enclosing tickets for a concert which even 
 mourning for an aunt did not prohibit, and asking 
 her and Rosabel to lunch at the Carlton.
 
 ROSABEL 79 
 
 ' It's so fortunate that he takes Rosabel pro- 
 perly,' she mused. ' Some men would hate the 
 idea of a grown girl, especially a girl who is not 
 quite the thing. Really, he is behaving very well, 
 bless him !' 
 
 She no longer thought of crow's-feet, and other 
 horrible things of the kind. After trying on two 
 new hats, she decided that the one with the 
 ostrich feathers was the more becoming, and 
 descended the stairs humming. Even the sight of 
 Rosabel in a frightful straw with a blue bow in it 
 like a nursemaid's and a skirt which dipped 
 at the back, could not spoil her restored good- 
 humour. 
 
 The victoria waited. Lacquer, harness, and 
 horses' coats glistened in the sun. 
 
 Rosabel entered a carriage for the first time in her 
 life. Her temperament was an unhappy one. Per- 
 haps the cravings with which she was endowed, God 
 knows why, would never be satisfied. Even this 
 splendour did not make her happy. She experi- 
 enced a throb of pride, it is true, but it was gloomy 
 pride. The outward magnificence only made her 
 more conscious of the inward poverty. Although 
 she sat beside her mother, whose garments brushed 
 her, they were as far apart as the poles, and loneli- 
 ness to the young is misery. There was nothing in 
 common between them. A thought-reader could 
 not have known better than Rosabel that while she
 
 80 ROSABEL 
 
 was brooding over her own relationship to her 
 mother, her mother was thinking of a thousand 
 things in which she had no part. 
 
 She would rather have been outside an omnibus 
 with some shabby woman of tender heart who loved 
 her.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ON reflection$ Mrs. Fairbourne suggested that 
 Rosabel should remain upstairs during calling hours 
 until she was ' fit to be seen.' The girl was willing 
 enough. A dull sort of curiosity was her attitude 
 towards this new world and its inhabitants. Under 
 happier circumstances, she would have been eager 
 to meet the people, on equal terms y whom she had 
 only seen in the distance hitherto ; as she was 
 situated, she was far too injured and forlorn to 
 desire to make acquaintance with any of her mother's 
 friends. If all the women were like Mrs. Fairbourne, 
 as smart and unfriendly, and all the men like Mr. 
 Aylmer, they would scorn her, and she would hate 
 them. 
 
 As it happened, nobody came that afternoon, and 
 her new clothes were delivered in the morning. 
 
 It seemed to Rosabel a ridiculous pretence to 
 wear black for a woman she had never seen. She 
 was glad that .she was going to be rich some day* 
 because it would enable her to be free, and to choose 
 her own friends ; but she could not feel any senti- 
 
 81 6
 
 82 ROSABEL 
 
 ment for the memory of Miss Dudgeon, who had 
 shown as little consideration, during her lifetime, 
 for her great-niece's welfare as Mrs. Fairbourne 
 herself. 
 
 A remark on the subject, inspired by the sight of 
 the new dresses, was the first voluntary one that 
 Rosabel had uttered since her arrival at Great 
 Cumberland Place. 
 
 ' Why,' she asked suddenly, ' do you think Aunt 
 Eliza left me her money ?' 
 
 'Oh, to annoy me, of course !' replied Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne thoughtlessly. ' She couldn't take it with 
 her, and she was bound by nature to keep it in the 
 family, so she made herself as disagreeable about it 
 as she could.' 
 
 ' ' Then she didn't like you ?' said Rosabel. ' I 
 see.' 
 
 ' Not that I mind your having it after me,' added 
 Mrs. Fairbourne. ' It was the tying it up and 
 treating me like a child which annoyed me. Pro- 
 bably I should have left the property to you in any 
 case.' 
 
 ' Would you ?' asked Rosabel. 
 
 She looked so surprised that Mrs. Fairbourne 
 actually coloured. Then she bit her lip, and grew 
 angry. It was absurd that this brat should have 
 the power to sting her. 
 
 Well-cut clothes made an astonishing difference 
 in Rosabel. Her figure was wonderfully improved j
 
 ROSABEL 83 
 
 and the consciousness that she was no longer ridi- 
 culous caused her to hold herself better, and to 
 lose the clumsiness which had marred her before. 
 But she lacked distinction still she was only a 
 good-looking girl ; and Mrs. Fairbourne, who had 
 regarded her with brief anxiety, smiled approval. 
 Their styles were so different that they could never 
 clash. 
 
 ' That is much better, Rosabel. But you don't 
 know how to do your hair. My maid must show 
 you.' 
 
 It was her At Home day, and at a quarter to five 
 the callers began to arrive. 
 
 Amy Fairbourne was always at her best when she 
 had to carry off an awkward situation. Difficulties 
 called forth all her courage and tact, and, apparently 
 serene, she took the hedge before her with a flying 
 leap. 
 
 ' Let me introduce to you my daughter Rosabel,' 
 she said. 
 
 ' Your your what ?' gasped the lady addressed. 
 
 ' My daughter,' repeated Mrs. Fairbourne sweetly. 
 ' Didn't you know I had a daughter ?' 
 
 ' N no,' said the other woman, putting up a 
 pince-nez, and extending her disengaged hand to 
 Rosabel. ' She is quite a big girl, too ! How do 
 you do, my dear ? I suppose you have been at 
 school abroad ?' 
 
 ' No,' said Rosabel shortly. 
 
 62
 
 84 ROSABEL 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne intervened with her light, un- 
 embarrassed laugh. 
 
 ' Her father's people have had her,' she said. * It 
 was an old arrangement. I promised poor George, 
 you know, before I married him. He was so jealous. 
 But now, of course, that her education is finished, 
 and there is no longer any reason why she shouldn't 
 be with me ' 
 
 ' I hadn't the least idea,' murmured the friend. 
 * How queer of you, Amy !' 
 
 ' Why ? Because I didn't bore you about her ? 
 Who cares for other people's children ! Do you 
 think she is like me ?' 
 
 She put an arm, as she spoke, round her daughter's 
 waist. Rosabel did not make the slightest response ; 
 only her eyes plainly expressed her contempt of 
 this little comedy on her mother's part. 
 
 ' I don't think she is at all like you,' replied the 
 friend. She laughed. ' But I'll take your word 
 for her ! Good-looking,' she added in an aside to 
 Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 
 ' You think so ? I am glad !' 
 
 ' And I suppose you are very pleased to be with 
 your mother, my dear ?' 
 
 Rosabel's lips opened and shut. She looked 
 at the carpet, and murmured an inarticulate 
 response. 
 
 Had the diplomatic Mrs. Fairbourne felt uncom- 
 fortable for a moment, and was she relieved ?
 
 ROSABEL 85 
 
 * Of course she will prefer London to the country 
 girls always do. And it will be good for her. 
 She has lived too quietly. Rosabel, take Mrs. 
 Ivor's cup.' 
 
 The way she dismissed the girl was rather clever, 
 and Rosabel, equally glad to be dismissed, stole 
 out of the room. 
 
 Nevertheless, the astonishing fact passed from 
 one batch of callers to another throughout the 
 afternoon. Mrs. Fairbourne's replies were always 
 easy, and adroitly vague. But after everyone 
 had gone she remained thoughtful, and not in the 
 best of tempers. 
 
 It had struck her for the first time that Rosabel 
 was not only heavy and sullen, but antagonistic. 
 She stiffened under the caresses bestowed upon 
 her as though displeased ; it had been noticeable, 
 in fact. What would people think ? And it was 
 advisable that they should think about her as little 
 as possible. 
 
 When mother and daughter met again, in the ten 
 minutes before dinner, Mrs. Fairbourne had a 
 question cut and dried. 
 
 ' Rosabel,' she said, * why do you never call me 
 mother ?' 
 
 Rosabel cast down her long lashes z and remained 
 silent. 
 
 ' I am speaking to you !' 
 
 ' I didn't know you wished it,' said Rosabel.
 
 86 ROSABEL 
 
 * Naturally, I do not wish you to be peculiar. I 
 should have thought so simple a matter required 
 no instructions on my part. There is another 
 matter. Why didn't you answer Mrs. Ivor properly ? 
 Of course, everything is strange to you, and you 
 feel out of place ; I can understand that. But you 
 must try not to behave like a savage.' 
 
 * I suppose I am a savage,' replied Rosabel 
 gloomily. 
 
 * I hope you are not ill-tempered as well !' 
 ' I shouldn't wonder.' 
 
 To her surprise her mother began to laugh. 
 The girl's morose voice and candid admissions 
 were funny. 
 
 ' Well,' added Mrs. Fairbourne with restored 
 amiability, * you must do your best. You'll get 
 used to everything presently. I don't want people 
 to dislike you. To-morrow, for instance, Mr. 
 Aylmer has invited us to lunch with him at a 
 restaurant, so I hope that you will be very nice.' 
 
 * He has invited me ?' 
 ' Yes ; both of us.' 
 
 ' Must I go ?' 
 
 * Don't you want to ?' 
 
 ' No.' Rosabel was emphatic on that point. 
 * He doesn't want me,' she added. * He has only 
 asked me on your account.' 
 
 1 Perhaps so,' assented her mother. ' Still, as 
 he has been kind enough
 
 ROSABEL 87 
 
 ' I don't want him to be " kind " to me.' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne shrugged her shoulders, not 
 ill-pleased. 
 
 ' Very well, stay at home if you like. I will 
 make an excuse for you.' 
 
 She would have Aylmer to herself, which would 
 be much more agreeable. Perhaps who knows ? a 
 few glasses of champagne would heat his over-cool 
 head, and bring him to the point. 
 
 She hoped that Rosabel would grow less difficult 
 as the strangeness wore off. It had not occurred 
 to her that the girl would be abnormal, less pliable 
 than other girls. But before a fortnight had 
 passed she realized unpleasantly that Rosabel was 
 as set in some ways as a woman of thirty. Her 
 attitude of the first few days was maintained, 
 and maintained unfalteringly. She scarcely spoke 
 to anyone, and rarely laughed or even smiled. 
 Whenever it was possible she kept out of the way, 
 and if the mother ventured upon a touch of playful 
 affection before company, the daughter's coldness was 
 palpable to all. Rosabel had a savage indifference to 
 appearances indeed, and there were moments when 
 the woman, who cared more about this world than 
 the next, detested her. This state of things was 
 not conducive to amenities in private, when Mrs. 
 Fairbourne could safely vent her pent-up irritation, 
 and many bitter and spiteful remarks helped to 
 keep them apart.
 
 88 ROSABEL 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne was torn, indeed, between desire 
 to indulge Rosabel's fancy to be let alone, and fear 
 that the policy of her inclination would destroy 
 the girl's chances of marriage. And if she did not 
 many they would have to go on living together 
 indefinitely, a prospect which filled Mrs. Fairbourne 
 with unmitigated horror. She had already given 
 up the attempt to make the best of Rosabel's 
 society. It was obviously waste of time. 
 
 ' Has she no feeling at all, or is it only that she is 
 quite stupid ?' she asked Aylmer. ' She looks at 
 me sometimes as though I were talking to her in a 
 foreign tongue.' 
 
 ' Oh, you will get on better by-and-by,' he said 
 soothingly. * She is not used to a mother, and 
 you are not used to a daughter, and she has 
 been badly brought up. It might have been 
 worse.' 
 
 ' Impossible !' she declared with conviction. 
 
 ' She might have sworn at you in dialect !' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne shuddered. 
 
 ' What a horrible imagination you have !' 
 
 ' And been forward instead of shy.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't mind her being shy if she were not 
 sulky as well. I might be her worst enemy when 
 I suggest to her that she is making a fool of herself. 
 I believe she hates me.' 
 
 ' What an idea !' 
 
 * Of course, the whole position is absurd,' she
 
 ROSABEL 89 
 
 insisted. ' I should not have expected anything 
 else. Affection cannot be created full grown 
 between two human beings just because they 
 happen to be parent and child. We are as much 
 strangers to each other as if I had picked her up 
 in the street.' 
 
 ' Certainly you must find her a husband,' he 
 said. 
 
 ' If you were a true friend you would help me.' 
 
 ' I have an Australian cousin just over. How 
 would he do ?' 
 
 ' Oh, the very thing !' she cried. * An Australian 
 cousin might find her exactly the type he admired. 
 Any money ?' 
 
 ' Enough, I think.' 
 
 ' Do bring him, there's a good fellow ! I'll make 
 a dinner a little private family sort of dinner, 
 you know, with no outsiders to distract his atten- 
 tion.' 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 ' Really ?' 
 
 ' Could I joke on a topic as serious as Rosabel ?' 
 she asked reproachfully. ' I reckon on you.' 
 
 ' Then I'll bring him to see you to-morrow 
 afternoon if he hasn't an engagement.' 
 
 * You might tell him beforehand,' she suggested, 
 with an air of affected cunning, 'about the fifty 
 thousand pounds !' 
 
 The next day Aylmer kept his word, and brought
 
 9 o 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 his cousin to call at Great Cumberland Place. 
 The cousin's name was Bellamy, and he was rather 
 a good-looking fellow, big and raw, and conven- 
 tionally colonial, with a sunburnt throat emerging 
 from a turned-down collar and a brown beard, 
 which he tugged nervously at embarrassed moments. 
 No contrast could have been greater than that 
 between him and Aylmer. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne smiled when they were intro- 
 duced. 
 
 ' So charming of you to come and see me, Mr. 
 Bellamy !' she said. * I am in mourning at present, 
 and cut off from the world, so I am more than 
 ever dependent upon the kindness of my friends. 
 Where is Rosabel ?' 
 
 Aylmer rang, and Rosabel was summoned. 
 It was an amusing fact that the Australian 
 seemed to take a fancy to the girl, though she spoke 
 very little, as usual. The mother's perfect manner 
 frightened him, no doubt ; with the daughter he 
 felt more at ease. His clumsy attempts to draw 
 Rosabel into conversation entertained Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne and Aylmer hugely, and in the spirit of 
 hilarity which had procured his introduction they 
 talked to each other, and gave the parti's budding 
 inclination every chance. 
 
 He was telling Rosabel about his life in Australia, 
 and she roused a little, and asked questions. 
 She was heard to remark that the freedom and
 
 ROSABEL 91 
 
 the horse-riding might be attractive, and he 
 longed, with eagerness, to see her out there some 
 day. 
 
 Then it was time to go ; unfortunately, he had 
 an appointment with a friend. 
 
 ' I was just saying to your cousin that I hoped 
 you would both come and dine with us,' said Mrs. 
 Fairbourne, as the big Australian took his leave 
 of her. ' Are you free on Saturday ? It will not 
 be a party, as we are in mourning just a few 
 intimate friends.' 
 
 Bellamy was delighted, and said so. The cousins 
 went away together. 
 
 ' Mr. Bellamy seems to be rather a nice man,' 
 observed Mrs. Fairbourne lightly. ' You got on 
 very well, didn't you, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' I couldn't help listening if he would talk,' said 
 Rosabel. 
 
 This was unpromising. 
 ' Don't you like him ?' 
 
 ' I don't like or dislike him,' replied Rosabel 
 impatiently. 
 
 Nevertheless, Mrs. Fairbourne placed her guests 
 carefully on Saturday they were just half a dozen 
 and sent Rosabel down to dinner with Bellamy. 
 Aylmer and herself made four, and the other two 
 consisted of a fashionable lady novelist who was 
 as brilliant in conversation as on paper, and a smart 
 editor of an equally smart review. These people,
 
 9 2 ROSABEL 
 
 herself and Aylmer, would talk without stopping 
 all through dinner, and Rosabel and Bellamy would 
 be obliged to entertain each other. It would be 
 amusing if something really came of the joke. 
 She attached no importance to Rosabel's paraded 
 indifference. There are girls who are ashamed of 
 admitting a preference for any man. If only this 
 man would marry her, and take her back to Australia 
 with him ! In the lull she heard his voice. 
 
 ' Then you never saw your mother till lately ? 
 Where did your aunt live ?' 
 
 ' At a little hotel near the Thames, in Bucking- 
 hamshire, called the Angler's Inn.' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne's white teeth gleamed in a hor- 
 rible smile. The lady novelist was still talking 
 on the other side of her, so Rosabel and Bellamy 
 did not notice that they were being observed. 
 
 ' What made her choose such a funny place ?' 
 asked the Australian, naturally bewildered. 
 
 ' She earned her living there,' said Rosabel, 
 quite calm. ' She kept it, you know. I helped her. 
 I used to wait on the coffee-room.' 
 
 ' You !' he stammered. * But your mother 
 Mrs. Fairbourne ' 
 
 She intervened promptly. 
 
 ' Who is taking my name in vain ? Mr. Bellamy, 
 you have no wine. Do look after yourself. This 
 is Liberty Hall, you know.' 
 
 It was nothing of the sort. The disorder of
 
 ROSABEL 93 
 
 Great Cumberland Place was always carefully 
 ordered, and the freedom of speech exactly the 
 tone of the moment, but for once no sensible im- 
 promptu had sprung to her lips. 
 
 She looked a reprimand at Rosabel, and for the 
 remainder of the dinner monopolized Bellamy 
 herself, recalling all she had ever heard of Australia? 
 and inventing friends at Sydney and Melbourne 
 to amuse him. And she succeeded so well in sinking 
 to his level that he began to think her charming 
 in spite of the extraordinary revelations of her 
 daughter. 
 
 Certainly, the control she had over her temper 
 was wonderful, and even Aylmer, who thought he 
 knew her, did not see what a rage she was in until 
 the others were gone. 
 
 As usual,- he was the lingerer. They had an 
 appointment to make, and she could always find 
 something to say at the last moment in order to 
 detain him, and impart to their intercourse that 
 touch of superior intimacy which is flattering to 
 man. 
 
 On this occasion she was not thinking of him. 
 Her self-control had deserted her for once. Directly 
 the door closed on the lady novelist, she turned to 
 Rosabel with lightning in her eyes. 
 
 ' What did you mean,' she demanded, ' by speak- 
 ing to Mr. Bellamy in that way ? How dared 
 you !'
 
 94 ROSABEL 
 
 ' In what way ?' asked Rosabel. 
 
 * You understand me very well ; don't be a hypo- 
 crite ! What did you mean by telling him over 
 dinner, before everybody, all about your aunt, 
 the publican's wife, and the Angler's Inn ?' 
 
 ' I didn't tell him anything that wasn't true.' 
 
 'That is not the question. I forbade you to 
 mention your past to anyone.' 
 
 Rosabel looked up, her face dark with anger. 
 
 ' I didn't promise not to,' she said. ' I never 
 begin to talk about it. But he asked me.' 
 
 ' You could have put him off easily. You 
 wished to tell hinij that is the fact of the matter. 
 I have tried to believe several times that your 
 behaviour was mere stupidity, but it becomes 
 quite plain that it is malice as well. You seem 
 to take a delight in disgracing me.' 
 
 Rosabel drew on the carpet with the point of 
 her shoe. A rude answer would have exasperated 
 her mother less. This habit she had of seeking 
 refuge in silence tried Mrs. Fairbourne's temper 
 beyond endurance. 
 
 ' I can assure you,' she continued, ' that you 
 need not take so much trouble. Your ordinary 
 manners are quite sufficient to show people how 
 ignorant and ill-bred you are.' 
 
 Still Rosabel did not answer. 
 
 Aylmer wondered at the peculiar self-control 
 possessed by so young a girl. Somehow he did
 
 ROSABEL 95 
 
 not think this evening that she was obtuse. 
 Perhaps he had never watched her as closely before. 
 He began to feel sorry for her. If she cared it 
 was hard that her mother should scold her before 
 him. She was not a child. Amy grated on him 
 for once, although she had excuse, apparently, for 
 annoyance. 
 
 ' I should have thought that the least you could 
 do was to make the best of yourself,' added Mrs. 
 Fairbourne, ' but I suppose you don't know the 
 meaning of decency. You are your father's 
 daughter, my dear.' 
 
 * Don't,' said Aylmer softly. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. Her colour 
 rose. 
 
 ' Oh, forgive me,' she said, resuming her normal 
 manner with an effort, ' for boring you with my 
 domestic afflictions. You do so hate " words," 
 don't you ?' 
 
 ' I must be going,' he replied. 
 
 ' Must you ?' She was a little uncertain of 
 him. He was actually serious. It did not make 
 her feel better disposed towards Rosabel. But 
 her voice grew assured once more. * When shall 
 I see you again ?' 
 
 ' I'll look in soon. Good-night, Rosabel,' he 
 said. 
 
 Rosabel had been gazing at him curiously
 
 96 ROSABEL 
 
 since he dropped that single word of expostula- 
 tion. 
 
 He pressed her hand slightly. 
 
 The girl, who had grown pale under the lash of 
 her mother's tongue, turned very red, and her lips 
 quivered for the first time. She bit them sharply, 
 and went to bed without a word.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IT always pleases a man to discover that he is better- 
 natured than he had supposed. This may have 
 accounted for the fact that Aylmer thought a 
 great deal about Rosabel over his final whisky- 
 and-soda and cigarette that night. Or his interest 
 may have been awakened by signs of an unexpected 
 sensitiveness in the daughter caused by an equally 
 unexpected shrewishness in the mother. 
 
 Yes, ' shrewishness * was the word his mind used. 
 Amy Fairbourne's tongue was always a little 
 barbed. A woman who has to live up to a repu- 
 tation for smartness is bound to be spiteful 
 sometimes. But to-night her rapier had become 
 a cudgel. 
 
 ' Not vulgar,' he mused. * No, it would be harsh 
 to say " vulgar." A little brutal, perhaps. After 
 all, the girl must feel something. Why does she 
 never answer back ?' 
 
 One kind of ' young person ' would have had an 
 impertinent retort for every gibe. And another 
 kind of ' 3'oung person,' being tongue-tied by anger, 
 
 97 7
 
 98 ROSABEL 
 
 or fright, or both, would have burst into tears, and 
 flounced out of the room. 
 
 Rosabel, having stood her ground in silence, 
 must therefore be a somewhat unusual young 
 person, who was less a type than an individual. 
 She had characteristics, if they were only those of a 
 feather-bed which may be shaken up by every 
 strong pair of arms. Could it be possible that she 
 was worth studying ? 
 
 His reflections did not spoil his night's rest. 
 He was not so deeply in love with the fair widow 
 that the discovery of a flaw in her temper should 
 cause him pangs. His sentiment was rather of 
 that moonlight order which fails to distinguish 
 between gratitude for a good dinner and a pretty 
 woman's preference, and those warmer symptoms 
 of the grand passion. Usually he liked her very 
 much, and for five minutes this evening he had 
 not liked her very much that was all. So he slept 
 without dreaming, and woke at his usual hour in 
 the morning with no nasty taste in his mouth of 
 either dissipation or disappointment overnight. 
 
 But that afternoon, when a stroll in the Park 
 brought him to the Marble Arch about five o'clock, 
 he thought he would look in at Great Cumberland 
 Place to see how the domestic storm had ended. 
 
 It was a disappointment when his query at the 
 door brought the wrong reply. 
 
 ' Mrs. Fairbourne is not at home, sir.'
 
 ROSABEL 99 
 
 ' And Miss er Fairbourne ?' he asked, almost 
 to his own surprise. 
 
 ' Miss Fairbourne is in, sir.' 
 
 Aylmcr went up. How many times had he 
 ascended and descended that staircase, with its 
 moss-green carpet, and white walls adorned by old 
 prints which there was not light enough to see ! 
 On this occasion his usual impassiveness was a 
 little shaken. There was unfamiliarity about the 
 mere familiarity of things. Why had he asked for 
 Rosabel ? Did he really care whether mother and 
 daughter had made it up or not ? He was inclined 
 to retreat. 
 
 Still he continued out of sheer indecision, and 
 inability to excuse himself to Benson, on whose 
 countenance he had already detected a gleam of 
 curiosity. 
 
 Rosabel was at the window reading when he was 
 announced. 
 
 ' How do you do ?' she said. ' Mother is out. 
 Didn't Benson tell you ?' 
 
 ' Yes. I thought I would come up and see you.' 
 
 ' Why ?' asked the girl bluntly. ' Do you want 
 me to give her a message ?' 
 
 ' No. I just came to see how you were.' 
 
 She stared at him in grave surprise, evidently 
 finding his conduct strange. 
 
 ' Shan't we sit down ?' he asked, dropping lazily 
 into a. deep chair. ' I must say you are not very 
 
 72
 
 100 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 hospitable, Rosabel ! I believe you'd rather I went 
 away !' 
 
 N no,' she said. Her cheeks reddened, and 
 her long lashes drooped. She fidgeted with her 
 book. 
 
 ' What are you reading ?' 
 
 ' " In the Cage." ' 
 
 ' Do you like it ?' 
 
 * I think it's a lot of talk about nothing.' 
 
 He was amused. 
 
 ' What sort of books do you like ?' 
 
 ' I used to read the Family Trumpet and the 
 Weekly Magazine. I think they're good stories.' 
 She looked up with a challenge in her eyes, and 
 enunciated slowly and deliberately : * Mother says 
 they are vulgar trash, and only fit for kitchen- 
 maids, and that I am not to read them.' 
 
 ' Do you like Charles Dickens ?' 
 
 ' Charles Dickens ?' she repeated. * He wrote 
 " Vanity Fair," didn't he ?' 
 
 There was a pause. Conversation was difficult. 
 Nevertheless, he had the impression that she was 
 favourably disposed towards him this afternoon, 
 which encouraged him to persevere. 
 
 ' Has your mother said any more to you ?' he 
 asked in a low tone. 
 
 ' No.' She flashed him a brief, vivid glance. 
 * It was nice of you to say " Don't." ' 
 
 ' Was it ?'
 
 ROSABEL 101 
 
 ' I thought about it afterwards,' she told him. 
 
 His doubts were all at rest. She ' thought 
 about ' things ' afterwards.' Then she was not a 
 feather-bed. He was inspired with renewed energy , 
 
 ' Did you care ?' he queried, curious. ' About 
 your mother, I mean ?' 
 
 * No. At least, I shouldn't have if you hadn't 
 been there,' she said honestly. ' Why should I ?' 
 
 ' You ought to care what your mother says.' 
 
 ' My mother !' she repeated. ' My mother !' 
 She laughed. 
 
 ' And surely she had cause to be angry ?' 
 
 ' Do you think so ?' asked Rosabel. ' Why should 
 she be angry at having something talked about that 
 she wasn't ashamed to do ?' 
 
 Her tone was a revelation to him. He seemed 
 to be seeing her for the first time. The torpid, 
 sullen child had disappeared. This was a woman, 
 and a woman who could think and feel. 
 
 ' Then you did tell my cousin on purpose ?' 
 
 ' I shouldn't have said anything if he hadn't 
 asked. But I am glad he asked, and glad she heard, 
 and glad she didn't like it. I'd do it again !' She 
 choked. ' Suppose I have got the tastes of a kitchen- 
 maid ; suppose I am ignorant and stupid and ill-bred ! 
 What else did she expect ? If she doesn't like my 
 manners, she has only herself to thank for them. 
 I am what she has made me.' 
 
 ' You mean that your education was neglected ?'
 
 102 ROSABEL 
 
 * You saw where I was, and what I was ! Life 
 in a public-house doesn't usually turn out perfect 
 ladies, does it ? Why did she leave me there ?' 
 
 The girl's voice, sarcastic and poignant, sent a 
 thrill down Aylmer's spine. 
 
 ' I couldn't help it if my father was a groom. 
 She chose him, I didn't. And whatever he was, 
 he must have been better, I think, than she is. If 
 / had a child I wouldn't desert it. She's got more 
 to be ashamed of than I have !' 
 
 ' But she is doing her best for you now.' 
 
 Rosabel snorted. 
 
 ' Because she can't help herself, that's all. She 
 wants the two thousand a year. Otherwise, I 
 might have stopped at the Angler's Inn all my life.' 
 
 Everything she said was true, but it was so 
 remarkable and so interesting that she should see it ! 
 
 ' You are bitter. It's a mistake.' He shook 
 his head. * You'll never get on if you start with 
 such prejudices.' 
 
 * I don't care.' 
 
 ' Why not let bygones be bygones ?' 
 
 Her eyes wandered from his face to the window. 
 
 ' I used to sit,' she said darkly, ' and think and 
 think. When I waited on the customers I was 
 thinking. I thought most of all that day she came 
 to the inn. She's very pretty and elegant and 
 clever, isn't she ? Such a lady !' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Aylmer, with peculiar reluctance.
 
 ROSABEL 103 
 
 ' I admire her immensely,' said Rosabel. ' I 
 don't know anybody I've seen that I admire so 
 much.' 
 
 He stared at her profile. 
 
 ' And yet you are doing your best to make her 
 unhappy.' 
 
 ' Oh, she won't be unhappy on my account,' 
 said Rosabel, with the brutal frankness which had 
 succeeded to her long reserve. ' I am no more than 
 the dirt under her feet.' 
 
 ' I saw her kiss you the other day.' 
 
 ' Yes, before company.' She frowned in quick 
 irritation, and clenched her hands, ' I won't have 
 it !' she said. ' She shan't touch me. I don't want 
 her kisses. I'll never, never have them !' 
 
 ' Even if they were given not before company ?' 
 
 ' No. It's too late. She'd only be trying to 
 make herself comfortable.' 
 
 She had become as lucid as crystal. He seemed 
 to see right through her head. 
 
 * And you won't help her ?' 
 
 ' She's being paid well. That is enough too 
 much.' 
 
 ' Do you know, I hadn't an idea that you were 
 taking everything so seriously ?' 
 
 ' I don't talk about it as a rule. What's the 
 good ? I've never told anybody before. I don't 
 know why I've told you, except that you were 
 nice last night.' She turned her head now, and
 
 104 ROSABEL 
 
 regarded him defiantly. ' I dare say you think I'm 
 funny ?' 
 
 ' No,' said Aylmer. 
 
 ' If you repeat anything to her, I'll I'll hate 
 you ! She'd think I minded. And ifs too late. 1 
 
 ' I shall regard our conversation as confidential.' 
 
 ' You're great friends with her, aren't you ?' 
 
 ' Yes, rather.' 
 
 ' Of course, I can understand it,' said Rosabel. 
 
 * I should think she was a most fascinating woman 
 to strangers, I mean to men.' 
 
 He did not reply, and a moment elapsed before 
 he spoke again. 
 
 ' Why are you usually so silent ?' 
 
 ' I've nothing to say. I don't know anything.' 
 
 * Very few girls do know anything. A girl isn't 
 expected to be a witty woman of the world.' 
 
 ' Nobody cares about me, or wants to listen to 
 me.' 
 
 ' I think you are wrong,' he said deliberately. 
 
 * My cousin liked you !' 
 
 ' He comes from a village in Australia where 
 there aren't any women.' Her voice was distinctly 
 contemptuous. 'I'know what I am,' she added. 
 ' I've no illusions.' 
 
 * You have delusions, I think. One of them is 
 that your mother has the monopoly of feminine 
 beauty and attraction. You are good-looking too.' 
 
 * Do you think so ?' She coloured warmly, and
 
 ROSABEL 105 
 
 a gleam of reluctant pleasure lighted her face. 
 ' But I have no elegance, no manner,' she added 
 gloomily, ' She is so distinguished. One would 
 notice her in a crowd.' 
 
 ' You are better-looking than your mother.' 
 
 ' Oh, how can you say so !' Rosabel was actually 
 angry. ' You are only trying to be kind again.' 
 
 ' And you have what no amount of style can 
 give back to a woman youth. So you need not 
 complain.' 
 
 She was still in a glow despite her protestations, 
 and her lowered lashes fluttered, and the corners 
 of her lips quivered. 
 
 ' I think I must go now,' said Aylmer. He rose, 
 picking up his stick, and she rose too. ' I am glad 
 we have had this talk,' he added. ' But I wish 
 you would forget your grievances, for your own 
 sake, and try to be happy.' 
 
 ' I shall never be happy,' said the girl. 
 
 ' Why not ? What an idea !' 
 
 ' Happiness has to come from the inside. I 
 haven't got the temperament. I was brought up 
 in a way I didn't like. And now I'm too old to 
 change.' 
 
 ' At nineteen ! My dear child, the whole of your 
 life is before you !' 
 
 ' But I'm made,' she said. ' I can't be made over 
 again. I've got to be just myself. Will you laugh 
 at me when you're gone ?'
 
 106 ROSABEL 
 
 ' How suspicious you are !' he said. ' I am 
 flattered that you should have trusted me. I want 
 you to regard me as a friend. Will you ? Talk 
 again another day, whenever you like.' 
 
 ' Yes, thank you.' 
 
 * Good-bye, Rosabel.' 
 
 They exchanged the hand-clasp of confidence. 
 She moved towards the door with him. 
 ' I haven't offered you any tea.' 
 
 * Never mind. I don't care for it.' 
 
 He nodded again, smiling, handsome, urbane, and 
 went his way. 
 
 ' I wonder if he'll tell her ?' mused Rosabel, 
 biting her lips. ' I wish I hadn't said anything. 
 Why did I ?' 
 
 Aylmer left the house meditatively. An experi- 
 ence, which was the last he had looked for, had 
 infused a little unwonted heat into his veins. His 
 was usually regarded as a rather cold and deliberate 
 nature. He was not really cold, only it was so 
 rarely worth while getting warm. 
 
 His reflections were involved, and he had a 
 peculiar reluctance to pursue them far. But he 
 was obliged to admit sympathy for Rosabel, and 
 sympathy for Rosabel brought him once more face 
 to face with the inverse problem of her mother. 
 Amy had behaved badly. There was no doubt 
 about it. And the girl was painfully awake to it, : 
 and when she talked from her heart she lighted up
 
 ROSABEL 107 
 
 wonderfully. She was even taking. Her anger 
 was like the elements violent, natural, and unre- 
 strained ; a primitive force in an artificial environ- 
 ment. Aylmer felt as though a thunder-shower 
 had relieved the oppression of a muggy night. 
 She was refreshing, that was it refreshing and new. 
 
 He threw back his shoulders, and drew a deep 
 breath. The thunder-shower simile had had almost 
 a physical effect upon him, so closely is a man's body 
 allied to his mind. 
 
 A victoria passed him at that moment, sweeping 
 out of the Park, and he caught sight of well-known 
 liveries, a fluffy sunshade, and a white face framed 
 in gold. 
 
 He frowned more than was warranted by the sun- 
 light in his eyes. 
 
 ' She is older than I thought,' he mused. * With 
 a daughter of nineteen, she can scarcely be less 
 than thirty-seven.'
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ' Is that Mr. Aylmer ?' asked Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 
 She and Rosabel were walking down Bond Street j 
 a couple of days later, behind a pair of familiar 
 broad shoulders. 
 
 ' I think so,' said Rosabel. 
 
 She knew, so did her mother. But while Mrs. 
 Fairbourne was more than willing to overtake him, 
 Rosabel shirked the meeting. Her reserved nature 
 was shocked every time she recalled the burst of 
 confidence to which she had treated him, and her 
 cheeks grew hot over the mere memory of it a dozen 
 times a day. She was sure that she had made her- 
 self ridiculous. He had restrained his amusement 
 merely because he was polite. She despised herself 
 for being so easily bought by a word of kindness. 
 He belonged to the opposition to her mother's 
 party ; he was the archetype of that class which 
 made allusions and innuendoes she could not follow, 
 and laughed at jokes she could not understand. It 
 was absurd of her to have forgotten it. 
 
 She wished he would cross over, but fate was 
 1 08
 
 ROSABEL 109 
 
 against her. He lingered to look at a shop-window, 
 and her mother would not pass him. 
 
 Rosabel hung back while he greeted Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne ; then he turned to her with a new sympathy. 
 
 ' And how is Rosabel to-day ?' 
 
 ' I am so sorry I was out when you called the 
 other afternoon,' said Mrs. Fairbourne, without 
 giving Rosabel time to speak. ' You should have 
 waited.' 
 
 ' I stayed a little while. Rosabel entertained 
 me.' 
 
 The woman laughed rather cruelly. 
 
 ' I am afraid you must have found it even more 
 fatiguing than whist with your grandfather ! Oh, 
 you needn't exert yourself to say anything pretty ! 
 Rosabel doesn't care !' 
 
 Didn't she ? He glanced at the girl, and differed 
 from her mother. 
 
 ' How unkind you are !' he said dexterously. 
 ' You tell me, in as many words, that Rosabel con- 
 siders my opinion of no consequence whatever.' 
 He smiled. ' All the same, I will return good for 
 svil. Will both you ladies take tea with me ?' 
 
 ' Of course we will.' 
 
 ' Over the way ?' he queried. ' The latest, I 
 believe a Dutch interior, with the countesses, who 
 :ondescend to wait upon one, in real Dutch cos- 
 tumes !' 
 
 When they entered the tea-room the}' came upon
 
 IIO ROSABEL 
 
 a smart young man of their acquaintance, who was 
 invited by Aylmer to join them. Under cover of 
 the conversation between him and Mrs. Fairbourne, 
 Aylmer spoke to Rosabel. 
 
 ' Well, how are you getting on ?' he asked. ' I 
 suppose you haven't seen or heard anything of my 
 cousin ? He has just bought a motor. I met him 
 last night, full of the enthusiasm of the proselyte. 
 He wants to know if you and your mother would 
 like to take a run down to Folkestone from Saturday 
 till Monday ?' 
 
 ' I've never been in a motor,' said Rosabel. 
 
 She thawed, and her eyes sparkled a little. She 
 was young, after all ; she could not always be 
 brooding over her grievances. 
 
 ' Then I may tell him that a formal invitation 
 would be regarded kindly ?' 
 
 ' I don't know,' she said. ' You'd better ask 
 mother. Would you come, too ?' 
 
 * Probably.' 
 
 He mentioned the matter to Mrs. Fairbourne at 
 once, and it pleased her. A letter from Bellamy 
 the same evening won a gracious acceptance from 
 the lady, and Saturday morning being fine, found 
 them all en route for Folkestone. 
 
 For once Rosabel was in good spirits. As they 
 were supposed to be in mourning, the girl had really 
 seen and done very little during her three weeks at 
 Great Cumberland Place. The couple of informal
 
 ROSABEL in 
 
 dinners and luncheons her mother had given had 
 been merely sources of accentuated dulness, bitter- 
 ness, and repining to Rosabel, who had found herself 
 to be the only outsider in a brilliant set. On each 
 occasion she had been more or less neglected, and 
 suffered an agony of mortification, and shed tears 
 in private when the guests were gone. And Mrs. 
 Fairbourne, having given her intimate friends a 
 hint that they need not ask her daughter when no 
 other quite young people were expected, Rosabel's 
 amusements had been confined to a few afternoon 
 calls, a concert, and a picture-gallery. 
 
 To-day's excursion was something fresh and 
 welcome, and although Rosabel would not admit 
 to herself that it was possible to feel light-hearted, 
 something very like exhilaration sent the blood to 
 her round cheeks, and brightened her eyes at the 
 sharp contact of the air. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne and Aylmer occupied the front 
 double seat behind the chauffeur ; Rosabel sat 
 beside Bellamy in the back one. He was making 
 violent efforts to be civil to her, and gave her to 
 understand by-and-by that the little week-end 
 party had been organized especially on her account. 
 This surprised Rosabel, and glancing at him to see 
 if he could be in earnest, she discovered his eyes 
 fixed upon her face with an expression only to be 
 described as ' moony,' and understood therefrom 
 that the Australian was ' taking a fancy ' to her.
 
 H2 ROSABEL 
 
 Why should her thoughts have reverted to her 
 aunt and the Angler's Inn at this moment ? She 
 might have been standing in the bar parlour while 
 Mrs. Collins, plump arms akimbo, gossiped with a 
 friend from the village. 
 
 ' So What's-his-name is taking a fancy to So-and- 
 so. What a good thing for the girl !' 
 
 The very smell of the beer was in her nostrils. 
 
 She emerged from a dream. The unconscious 
 Bellamy was calling her attention to a wayside farm 
 which reminded him, he said, of his place at home. 
 
 She surveyed him broodingly, unabashed ; Rosa- 
 bel was only shy when she found herself inferior to 
 her company. She noted his blunt features more 
 particularly than she had ever done before, his 
 broad yet rounded shoulders, the display of bronzed 
 bull-like throat, the clothes which seemed remini- 
 scent of the Antipodes because he wore them, 
 although they had been cut by a good tailor in 
 London. The man was homely in manner and 
 speech ; that was what made her think of the 
 Angler's Inn. He would not have been out of place 
 talking to her aunt between draughts of beer, in the 
 slurring burr of the countryman. 
 
 On that look of his her imagination had already 
 forged ahead, in the way of girls, to the possible con- 
 clusion. She was alive to the advantages of marry- 
 ing him. He would take her away from her mother, 
 there would be the dignity conferred by a wedding-
 
 ROSABEL 113 
 
 ring, and it would be pleasant to be loved and to 
 begin a new life in a new world where the majority 
 of people were no better educated than herself. 
 
 Nevertheless, she did not contemplate him seri- 
 ously. Something told her that her mind, though 
 untrained, was superior to his not cleverer, perhaps 
 finer. She had already seen enough of him to 
 know that she could appreciate subtleties of con- 
 science and conduct invisible to him. Probably 
 she stood alone below the class which at once 
 attracted and scorched her with the unconscious 
 cruelty of the candle to the moth, deprived, by 
 secret pride, of the only companionship she was 
 likely to obtain. She did not feel flattered by his 
 attentions, and discouraged them. 
 
 They had lunch on the road, and arrived at Folke- 
 stone in time for tea. 
 
 It was Rosabel's first experience of a large 
 fashionable hotel, and she liked to watch the 
 people and listen to the orchestra ; but she wanted 
 to go out, too, and look at the sea, which she had 
 not seen since she spent a fortnight at Margate 
 three years ago. 
 
 After tea they went for a stroll, and Aylmer 
 changed off with his cousin and joined Rosabel. 
 
 ' Is this your first visit to Folkestone, made- 
 moiselle ?' 
 
 * Yes. Doesn't it smell fresh ?' said Rosabel, 
 sniffing the salt air. 
 
 8
 
 n 4 ROSABEL 
 
 ' As fresh as you look,' he replied. 
 
 In fact, she looked to-day just as she ought to 
 look always young, open-faced, clear-eyed, un- 
 weighted by thoughts too heavy for her years. 
 
 * I enjoyed coming down,' she said. ' I think 
 motors are splendid.' 
 
 ' Bellamy will be delighted at his success. Did 
 you tell him ?' 
 
 She regarded him steadily, considering her reply. 
 It did not suit her to be as candid with everyone 
 over this matter as she had been with herself. She 
 would not even admit that she understood. 
 
 * No ; mother thanked him. It doesn't matter 
 about me.' 
 
 ' Are you sure of that ?' he asked mischievously. 
 
 Rosabel turned her face to the sea. She did not 
 want to talk about Bellamy or think at all. 
 
 They re-entered to the hotel by-and-by, and Rosa- 
 bel was waiting in the hall for her mother, who had 
 gone upstairs, when a familiar voice addressed her : 
 
 ' Why, it's actually Rosabel !' 
 
 Rosabel turned, and found Maurice Braithwaite 
 beside her. The colour rushed to her face. If he 
 was surprised, she was equally so. It seemed 
 strange to meet someone belonging to the old life 
 here. 
 
 He was staring at her with an exaggerated aston- 
 ishment which was only half assumed, his eyes 
 rounded, his mouth open. Then he laughed, as
 
 ROSABEL 115 
 
 at a very good joke indeed, and held out his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Well, I'm blessed ! How did you get here ? 
 And such a swell, too ! What mysterious promo- 
 tion is this ?' 
 
 Rosabel had never liked him, and she was not 
 pleased to see him now. She remembered that he 
 had been rude to her at their last meeting, and his 
 familiarity was aggressive. He reminded her dis- 
 agreeably of the past. That she should ever have 
 been in the position to be regarded as ' fair game ' 
 by a man of Maurice Braithwaite's type was her 
 bitterest grievance. And now to-day of all days, 
 just as she was feeling happy for once, he turned up 
 to cast a gloom over her. 
 
 ' I didn't expect to meet you,' she said. ' Didn't 
 you hear I'd gone away ?' 
 
 * No ; I've been away myself. Are you married ' 
 he laughed again ' and on your honeymoon ?' 
 
 ' I am living with my mother,,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' Your what ?' 
 
 ' My mother.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, of course. Married beneath her, didn't 
 she ? Didn't know she was up to this sort of thing, 
 though. Are you staying here ?' 
 
 * We came down on a motor with friends 
 this morning, and we are going to stay till 
 Monday.' 
 
 ' Where do you live when you are at home ?' 
 
 82
 
 u6 ROSABEL 
 
 ' In Great Cumberland Place,' replied Rosabel 
 reluctantly. 
 
 Once more he gave a little laugh of mingled 
 amusement and surprise. The idea of it all was 
 evidently strange to him. He could not realize 
 Rosabel in her new surroundings. 
 
 ' Well, I congratulate you,' he said. ' I am glad 
 to have come across you again, Rosabel. What is 
 your number in Great Cumberland Place ? May I 
 call?' 
 
 ' I don't know whether mother would like it.' 
 
 ' She won't mind.' 
 
 ' I don't know whether / should like it,' said the 
 girl, darkening. 
 
 * That's pretty cool, 'pon my word ! You are 
 your old self, Rosabel !' 
 
 ' I don't change in three weeks nor in three years.' 
 
 ' Then you oughtn't to want to cast off your old 
 friends !' 
 
 ' But we were never friends what I call friends,' 
 she said. * You know we weren't !' 
 
 Her eyes challenged his angrily. He was not 
 abashed, although he remembered well enough, no 
 doubt. As a matter of fact, he could not perceive 
 that he had ever given her cause for offence. It 
 was his experience that most girls like to be kissed 
 by a good-looking man girls in a better position 
 than hers, too. She was a little fool, with no fun 
 in her. She wanted stirring up.
 
 ROSABEL 117 
 
 He looked at her long lashes, the perfect curve of 
 her cheeks, and the tendrils of hair which escaped 
 from the generous mass she had to caress her brow 
 and the nape of her neck. There was an untouched 
 bloom about her which had always attracted him 
 in spite of her heaviness. And now she was well 
 dressed and her figure improved. She reminded him 
 of a ripe peach, young and round, luscious and 
 sweet. He would like to do the ' stirring up ' 
 himself. 
 
 ** I never saw such an improvement in anybody,' 
 he added > with the coolness of a connoisseur ap- 
 praising a work of art. ' I scarcely recognised you. 
 Clothes make a lot of difference, of course. And 
 you've learned how to do your hair.' 
 
 Braithwaite always noticed things about women 
 which would have escaped another sort of man. 
 
 Rosabel was growing angrier every moment. 
 
 * I don't think you ought to call me Rosabel,' she 
 said. ' I am Miss Fairbourne now.' 
 
 ' Why Fairbourne ?' 
 
 ' It is my mother's name. She married again. 
 She wishes it.' 
 
 * Won't you introduce me ?' he asked. 
 
 ' No,' she replied decidedly. ' Good-bye.' 
 
 ' Oh, I shall see you again presently,' he 
 
 said 'perhaps to-morrow. I am staying here, 
 
 too.' 
 Nevertheless, he took her unwilling hand, and
 
 n8 ROSABEL 
 
 added in a whisper which brought the blood to her 
 face : 
 
 ' When are you going to give me that kiss, 
 Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' Never ! I wonder if your wife knows what you 
 are?' 
 
 'She thinks she does, anyhow.' He laughed. 
 ' She's gone home to her people in America for a 
 " spell," ' he said, ' so I am a grass-widower. Do 
 you know her ?' 
 
 ' I've seen her not spoken to her,' said Rosabel. 
 
 Again her brow was overcast ; he managed to 
 rake up everything unpleasant. County ladies, 
 even if born in the land of equality where social 
 distinctions are more insisted upon than they are 
 in England, do not ' know ' the waitresses of inns. 
 
 * Temper like pepper,' observed Braithwaite. 
 ' She can stop with her " popper " and " mommer " 
 as long as she likes.' 
 
 ' I have no doubt that the right, when you quarrel, 
 is on her side,' said Rosabel calmly. ' You must be 
 dreadful to live with.' 
 
 ' Rosabel !' 
 
 It was Aylrner who called her. He saw her 
 talking to someone, and as she turned the two men 
 exchanged an inquiring glance. 
 
 * I am coming,' said Rosabel, and left Braith- 
 waite without more ado. 
 
 * Who's that fellow ?' Aylmer asked her.
 
 ROSABEL 119 
 
 * Ohj he lives down in Bucks, near the Angler's 
 Inn.' 
 
 Braithwaite strolled by presently. He was 
 curious, no doubt, to see her belongings. 
 
 Rosabel noticed him lounging about, but refused 
 to catch his eye. She would not introduce him. 
 He was much too impudent. It was a relief when 
 he disappeared at last. 
 
 As they were all going in to dinner later on, how- 
 ever, he reappeared with a friend, and contrived to 
 brush against Rosabel, whispering as he passed : 
 
 ' When, Rosabel ?' 
 
 She knew what he meant at once, and crimsoned 
 with anger. Looking up, her eyes met Aylmer's. 
 
 ' What is it ?' he asked in an undertone. 
 
 ' Nothing, thanks.' 
 
 Braithwaite was ' nothing.' She could afford to 
 disregard him now. There was no longer a utili- 
 tarian aunt in the background to insist upon her 
 fetching him whisky-and-soda. 
 
 The next day she was careful not to stray away 
 alone. But Braithwaite was not so easily shaken 
 off. He walked boldly up to her as she was stand- 
 ing on the steps with her mother, and wished her 
 good - morning. He was trying to force her 
 hand. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne could scarcely let the incident 
 pass. 
 
 ' Who is your friend, Rosabel ?' she asked,
 
 120 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 * Mr. Maurice Braithwaite my mother,' mur- 
 mured Rosabel reluctantly. 
 
 His trick had only half succeeded. He remained 
 conversing with them for a few minutes, but it did 
 not suit Mrs. Fairbourne to invite him to call on 
 them ; he knew too much about Rosabel. 
 
 After lunch they went for a country spin in the 
 motor, and in the evening the balmy air lured them 
 out of doors again. 
 
 They strolled along two and two, Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne, as a matter of course, annexing Aylmer. 
 After a little she grew tired, however, never caring 
 to walk far, and they returned to the hotel. 
 
 Rosabel lingered rather wistfully. Indoors there 
 were many lights, many people, much noise ; out- 
 side there was the night, the silver sea, the stars. 
 
 * Are you loth to go in, Rosabel ? ' asked Aylmer. 
 Would you like another turn ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I should.' 
 
 Bellamy looked sorry that he had not spoken 
 first ; Mrs. Fairbourne looked annoyed. She 
 wanted Aylmer beside her in the crowded lounge, 
 where all the smart people were staring and prying 
 and picking to pieces each other's features and 
 characters and gowns. 
 
 ' I am sure you have had as much exercise as is 
 good for you, Rosabel,' she said irritably. * You 
 have been out all day, and it is late.' 
 
 ' We haven't had much walking, mother.'
 
 ROSABEL 121 
 
 ' Mr. Aylmer is too kind to you.' 
 
 ' Oh, not at all,' he said, in his pleasant voice. 
 ' Come, Rosabel.' 
 
 They passed on. 
 
 ' You are sure you don't mind ?' queried Rosabel 
 presently. 
 
 ' Positive. In fact, I did not wish to go indoors. 
 The night is better company than that gaudy 
 parrot-house. May I smoke ?' He took out a 
 cigarette. ' Look at the shining track that lugger 
 is leaving behind her.' 
 
 ' Lovely,' said the girl, breathing deep, ' but sad. 
 A night like this always makes makes me hungry.' 
 
 ' Hungry ?' he queried. 
 
 ' Yes, you know for the things I shall never 
 have.' 
 
 They had stopped by the railing at the edge of 
 the cliff. Their figures were no more than silhouettes 
 against the sea. 
 
 Aylmer puffed at his cigarette in silence for a 
 moment. 
 
 ' You'll get everything by-and-by, Rosabel,' he 
 said gently. 
 
 ' How can I ?' she asked. 
 
 ' Yes, you will. You are young. You'll get 
 love ; that's everything to a woman.' 
 
 * Love,' she repeated in a whisper ' love !' 
 
 The word had stricken her. She was in a softened 
 mood, relaxed for once. It may have been only
 
 122 ROSABEL 
 
 the night and the stillness and the white light on 
 the water. 
 
 Aylmer's voice, attuned to the occasion, was 
 scarcely a disturbance. 
 
 ' What will he be like, Rosabel ?' 
 
 * I've never thought about it.' She glanced 
 defiance at him suddenly the defiance of a thing 
 at bay. ' I am not sentimental, you know !' 
 
 ' Aren't you ? Are you sure ?' 
 
 ' I've always been practical. I've had to be.' 
 
 * And yet a beautiful night makes you hungry ! 
 You are a bit of a humbug, my child.' 
 
 ' I'm not, indeed !' 
 
 ' You don't know yourself,' he said. ' Wait. No 
 life was ever all tragedy. You'll have your moments, 
 if not your years. Perhaps you are going to be very 
 happy by-and-by, in spite of your pessimism so 
 happy that you'll even be able to forgive your 
 mother.' 
 
 ' No,' she insisted. ' I am sure I shall never know 
 what it means.' 
 
 ' Love,' he said again softly, ' love love, 
 Rosabel !' 
 
 A whiff of his fragrant tobacco reached her nostrils, 
 which dilated. She stared blindly at the sea. The 
 obstinacy of her rejoinder seemed directed as much 
 against herself as him. 
 
 ' Nobody I could care for would ever care for me,' 
 she said. * It just amounts to that. Who am I ?'
 
 ROSABEL 123 
 
 ' A very nice little girl when you like,' he said, 
 and now his tone was kindly and sensible, nothing 
 more the touch of sentiment had gone. * Don't 
 shut yourself up in yourself too much, that is all. 
 Give people a glimpse of your soul sometimes. You 
 draw the curtains so close that one might make the 
 mistake of thinking there was nothing behind.' 
 
 Her silent communion lasted a long time. 
 
 ' I wonder at your thinking like that,' she broke 
 out at last. ' About love, I mean.' 
 
 ' Why not I ?' 
 
 * Usually you talk as though there were nothing 
 serious.' 
 
 He laughed low and lightly. 
 
 ' Oh, one talks, Rosabel ! You mustn't believe 
 everything you hear.' 
 
 She turned dark eyes on him. 
 
 ' I disliked you at first, you know.' 
 
 ' But you don't now ?' 
 
 ' No. Have you ever been in love ?' she asked. 
 
 ' What a question ! What a child you are !' 
 
 ' But you must know,' she persisted. 
 
 ' Perhaps I have fancied so once or twice.' 
 
 ' I suppose, as you say, that women think more 
 about it than men,' she said, musing. * I don't.' 
 She stirred, and he seemed to know without seeing 
 that she was frowning. 'I've other things.' 
 
 ' But you don't mean to stay with your mother 
 always ?'
 
 i2 4 ROSABEL 
 
 ' No ! When I am twenty-one I can do as I like. 
 I'm just waiting till then.' 
 
 * That is your plan, is it ?' 
 
 He threw the end of the cigarette away, and it 
 sank through the darkness like a falling star. 
 
 ' If she doesn't want to give me any money, she 
 needn't,' said Rosabel. ' I can always keep myself. 
 My aunt would take me back.' 
 
 * To the Angler's Inn ? I thought you hated it 
 so much ?' 
 
 * So I did, so I do !' cried the girl passionately. 
 ' But there's nothing I wouldn't do to get away from 
 her r 
 
 * You are young to be so malicious. Wrong, 
 Rosabel ; you're wrong.' 
 
 ' But why should I stay ? How can I care for 
 her ? If I died to-morrow she'd be glad !' 
 
 ' You mustn't say that !' 
 
 ' She would ! You know she would ! Then I 
 couldn't disgrace her any more.' 
 
 He was distracted by the attempt to reconcile 
 sympathy for the girl with loyalty to the mother. 
 It seemed rather mean to leave Amy in the lurch, 
 yet Rosabel was a force. It astonished him, when 
 he came to think of it, how much arrestive power 
 she had without eloquence to justify it. She was 
 like a sledge-hammer striking sparks from hot metal, 
 a glimpse of volcanic fire, the muttering approach 
 of a tropical storm.
 
 ROSABEL 125 
 
 He found strange similes for her, standing by her 
 side on the prosaic asphalt. But the glamour of 
 night was there night which creates a mystery in 
 the half revealed ; and she was a woman at this 
 moment, not merely Rosabel, and he was a 
 man. 
 
 ' At thirty,' he said, ' you will laugh at the 
 tragedy you made of life at nineteen. Everything 
 is either black or white for you, there are no grays. 
 You exaggerate your mother's feelings absurdly. 
 Of course, she does not want you to die. She would 
 be shocked if she knew you thought so, I am sure. 
 And the idea of going back to your aunt is equally 
 preposterous. The true solution of your problem is 
 marriage.' 
 
 She remained silently antagonistic. 
 
 ' Yes, marriage,' he repeated firmly. Then he 
 laughed. ' Why don't you marry my cousin ? He 
 is a good fellow, sufficiently well off, and I know he 
 is more than half in love with you already.' 
 
 * No, thank you,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' He won't do ?' 
 
 ' I couldn't,' she said. 
 
 ' That settles George !' He was amused. 
 
 ' Have you ever talked about him with mother ?' 
 she inquired. 
 
 ' I believe I did so once.' 
 
 ' She needn't get any ideas of that kind into 
 her head,' said Rosabel fiercely. ' I'm not going
 
 126 ROSABEL 
 
 to be married off to anyone just to please her. You 
 can tell her so !' 
 
 ' Quite unnecessary. A decision of that kind 
 must always rest with you. I am sure,' he added, 
 ' she would never attempt to influence you. Her 
 ideas are too refined.' 
 
 * Of course, you like her very much,' said Rosabel. 
 ' You won't admit that she isn't perfect.' 
 
 There was a silence of thirty seconds. Strolling 
 figures passed behind them with the murmur of 
 voices. 
 
 Aylmer laid his hand on the girl's arm. 
 
 * Don't be cross, Rosabel. I thought we were 
 friends ?' 
 
 * Oh, she is your friend !' 
 
 ' Can't I have two friends ?' 
 
 ' I don't know. I've never had more than one.' 
 
 ' Don't you count me ?' 
 
 ' It's best not to have anybody,' said Rosabel. 
 1 Then you've got nothing to lose.' 
 
 She folded her arms as though she were defending 
 herself from all the world, and leaned on the rail. 
 Aylmer lighted another cigarette. 
 
 ' You're morbid,' he said, ' and I am tired of you ! 
 Let us go home.' 
 
 The noise and atmosphere of the * parrot-house ' 
 jarred upon Rosabel's mood when they entered. 
 She said good-night to her mother and the men 
 abruptly, and went to bed. To her room, at least.
 
 ROSABEL 127 
 
 The girl did not undress. She pulled up the blind 
 and opened the window wide, and drew a chair to it. 
 
 She was restless to-night, and the sea was sympa- 
 thetic. It was quivering, quivering all the time. 
 Myriads of silver molecules danced in it, leaping 
 up, dying down, heaving, seeking something. She, 
 too, was seeking something. 
 
 Her talk with Aylmer had made a deep impression 
 upon her mind, she did not know why. It was not 
 that he had persuaded her to think better of her 
 mother or more hopefully about the future. On 
 the contrary! she felt sad and lonely, and her heart 
 ached. 
 
 She leaned her head against the casement. In 
 a dreamy moment she fancied that she was still 
 standing beside him, with the scent of his tobacco 
 in her nostrils and the sound of his voice in her 
 ear. 
 
 ' Love,' he was saying softly, ' love love,, 
 Rosabel !'
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MRS. FAIRBOURNE had already put her affairs in 
 order. Aylmer's twelve hundred was awaiting 
 her pleasure at the bank, and next year she would 
 enjoy her whole enlarged income free from debt. 
 Meanwhile there was a little surplus, and she planned 
 an extensive redecoration of the Great Cumberland 
 Place box during her absence from London. She 
 could afford the best of everything at last, thank 
 God, and she was fond of her home. 
 
 Aylmer called one morning at twelve to find 
 her surrounded by wall-papers and chintz the 
 Folkestone trip was already a couple of weeks old. 
 
 ' How do you like this for my bedroom ?' she 
 asked him. 
 
 ' It will look charming, I am sure.' 
 
 ' And this for Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' Also charming. Did she choose it, or did you ?' 
 
 'Oh, I did.' She laughed. 'But she likes it. 
 She's not pig-headed in matters of taste, I will 
 admit. She always allows me to know better.' 
 t ' Where is she ?' he asked. ' I have brought 
 
 128
 
 ROSABEL 129 
 
 you round a couple of tickets for the Temple flower- 
 show. I thought you might like to go.' 
 
 ' I should. But Rosabel won't be home. She 
 has gone down to Buckinghamshire to see her aunt.' 
 
 ' The people of the Angler's Inn ?' 
 
 * Yes. I don't know whether I ought to allow 
 it. I meant to cut that connection altogether. 
 But she insisted, and it wasn't worth a fuss. So 
 I let her go alone. I didn't care to send Brace. 
 Servants are such snobs, and their tongues are so 
 long.' 
 
 ' Why didn't you tell me ? I would have taken 
 her.' 
 
 ' You ?' She looked up in surprise from her 
 wall-papers. * But I shouldn't have imposed upon 
 your amiability. You are altogether too good about 
 Rosabel. Of course, I appreciate it.' 
 
 * I like the girl,' he said. 
 
 ' Do you really ? I was afraid she bored you 
 frightfully.' 
 
 ' On the contrary, she interests me.' 
 
 ' I wish she interested me,' sighed Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne. * When we are at meals we sit like a couple 
 of owls, and I dream dreams.' 
 
 ' Why don't you try to talk to her for a change ?' 
 
 * I have tried, and I can't. To me she is hermeti- 
 cally sealed, and I fail to extract even a trickle of 
 conversation from her. Sometimes I ask myself 
 whether she can really be mine, and wonder if the 
 
 9
 
 i 3 o ROSABEL 
 
 Collinses are passing off a changeling on me. At 
 least, I should wonder if she weren't so like William. 
 Poor child, a female William ! What a shocking 
 thing for her !' 
 
 ' You really think her so impossible ?' He 
 asked for information. 
 
 ' She may improve, but I doubt it. She is of 
 the type which doesn't want to learn, you see. 
 She is quite satisfied. She won't be told.' 
 
 Aylmer smiled. 
 
 ' Perhaps you misjudge her.' 
 
 * Why ?' Mrs. Fairbourne was scornful. ' Is 
 she so deep ?' 
 
 * She isn't as shallow as you suppose.' 
 
 ' Then you have made a study of her? ' 
 
 ' I study everybody.' 
 
 ' And I only those who are worth it,' she retorted. 
 
 ' Then turn your attention to Rosabel, I pray 
 you, before you go farther from home where even 
 charity should begin.' 
 
 She ceased fluttering the leaves of the wall- 
 paper book, and regarded him curiously. 
 
 ' Do you mean it ?' 
 
 ' I do. I should like you to realize that your 
 investigations in a certain quarter would repay 
 you, and that you might make both the girl and 
 yourself happier.' 
 
 She was wrapt in silent meditation for a moment. 
 
 'Oh, she is happy enough,' she said. 'She is
 
 ROSABEL 131 
 
 torpid, you know. People of that class, William's 
 class, are not gifted or is it cursed ? with keen 
 sensations. She is living in a luxury which is novel 
 to her, and no doubt her heart is swelling with 
 gratified pride, and she has gone down to Bucking- 
 hamshire to-day to play the little pompous snob 
 in her new clothes. Men make a mistake, as a 
 rule, in attributing any but the simplest motives 
 and emotions to girls. But it's awfully sweet of 
 you to take an interest in her.' Her fine eyes 
 looked dewy, and she extended an apparently 
 impulsive hand to him she who was never im- 
 pulsive in these days. ' I had no idea how sweet 
 you were !' 
 
 He felt rather a traitor as he took the hand ; 
 nevertheless, out of habit, perhaps, he pressed it 
 slightly. In some ways she was a delightful 
 woman. But she did not shine as a mother. It 
 might be a fact that maternal feelings could not 
 be acquired full grown, but must grow with the 
 child. She might be as charming as ever, for 
 instance, with a baby. Once he had even gone 
 so far on the road to matrimony as to contemplate 
 her like that. Was it Rosabel's existence which 
 had obliterated the picture ? A nineteen-year-old 
 girl with a mind, too ! And the mother must be 
 thirty-seven. 
 
 He had not said it to himself in as many words, 
 but doubtlessly the notion had come home to him 
 
 92
 
 132 ROSABEL 
 
 that, as a step-father, he would be ' damned 
 ridiculous.' Besides, why, after all ? 
 
 When a man who has never been in love begins 
 to analyze his sentiments, and realize how gossamer- 
 like they are, the woman's chance is gone. He 
 was thinking of ' settling down,' and she had 
 seemed desirable. And now, for various reasons, 
 she no longer seemed desirable. 
 
 But self-engrossed and self-satisfied, she did 
 not dream of it, and thanked him sincerely for his 
 kindness to her daughter. He had admired her, 
 and her vanity could not imagine a serious defection 
 on his part. She was rather annoyed that he should 
 think she was not treating Rosabel properly, but 
 she attributed his ' interest ' solely to the fact 
 that the girl was hers, and that he wished them 
 to make the best of things. 
 
 A little officious of him, perhaps, but ' sweet.' 
 She repeated the adjective to herself, and the irri- 
 tation passed. How much better that he should 
 like Rosabel than regard her as an obstacle ! 
 
 ' As Rosabel will not be at home, you might 
 accompany me to the flower-show this afternoon,' 
 she said.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ROSABEL'S visit to the country improved her frame 
 of mind. The contrast between past and present 
 could not fail to strike her, and make her realize 
 that it was pleasant, after all, to live like a lady, 
 even with her mother. Mrs. Collins had never 
 looked so stout and red, Mr. Collins had never looked 
 so smug and butler-like, and her old bedroom had 
 never looked so plainly furnished. Even the 
 servants' rooms at Great Cumberland Place were 
 better. And as she had not been expected, onions 
 were being cooked for dinner, and the smell of them 
 pervaded the inn, even submerging the usual 
 odour of beer. 
 
 But the old setter nearly went out of his mind 
 with joy at seeing her, and the servants made 
 excuses to come into the parlour on errands to have 
 a peep at ' Miss Rosabel,' and her aunt said : ' My ! 
 all silk underneath, and that hat with those feathers 
 couldn't have cost a penny less than three pounds !' 
 This was soothing, undoubtedly. There was some- 
 thing romantic, too, in being able to preserve an 
 
 '33
 
 134 ROSABEL 
 
 unmoved demeanour in the face of the sensation 
 she was creating, and to feel gloomy through all. 
 
 She had brought presents, and took away the 
 good wishes of all, and a pressing invitation to 
 come again. 
 
 It was already time to dress for dinner when 
 she reached home, and it was typical of the terms 
 she was on with her mother that she went straight 
 to her room instead of reporting her return. So 
 they did not meet till they met at the dinner-table, 
 and then Mrs. Fairbourne dismissed her daughter's 
 doings with a mere question : 
 
 ' Did you have a pleasant day, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' Yes, thank you.' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne sipped her hock. The golden 
 sparkle of the wine was like the woman herself. 
 Rosabel had often thought so as she sat at the 
 table silent, thinking, it was supposed, about 
 nothing at all. 
 
 ' Mr. Aylmer took me to a flower-show, so I had 
 a pleasant day, too.' 
 
 ' Did you ?' said Rosabel. 
 
 Her satisfaction in her own performance was 
 blighted. The gloom of her habitual mood held 
 her in thrall again. 
 
 ' He mentioned,' continued Mrs. Fairbourne, 
 * that his cousin was going to Scotland to-morrow. 
 Did you know ?' 
 
 ' No,' said Rosabel.
 
 ROSABEL 135 
 
 ' I was surprised to hear it.' Mrs. Fairbourne 
 fixed her daughter's eyes across the table. ' I 
 thought he had a particular reason for wishing to 
 remain in London for the present.' 
 
 Rosabel did not respond ; she felt herself growing 
 red. She understood the innuendo, and it occurred 
 to her suspicious nature instantly that Aylmer had 
 been discussing her with her mother while they 
 were out together. Why should she trust him ? 
 He was nice when he was with her, especially when 
 they were alone, but, of course, he had known her 
 mother much longer than herself. The idea that 
 he might have passed on some of her confidences 
 made her feel sick. 
 
 ' Are you sure you don't know why he has gone, 
 Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' How should I ? Why should he tell me ?' 
 asked the girl resentfully. 
 
 ' He did not say anything to you during the 
 trip to Folkestone ?' 
 
 ' Anything about what ?' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 ' If you don't know what I mean you are a 
 fool. Even the kitchen-maid understands when 
 the milkman admires her. That man was prepared 
 to marry you if you had given him a little encourage- 
 ment. I am afraid you have been silent and dis- 
 agreeable, and thrown a chance away.' 
 
 * I don't want to marry him,' said Rosabel.
 
 136 ROSABEL 
 
 ' But I suppose you don't want to be an old maid ? 
 It is useless to be too particular, Rosabel. I cannot 
 introduce you to many eligible men.' 
 
 Rosabel's eyes were fixed upon the table-cloth. 
 
 ' He was well off,' pursued her mother, as though 
 she had answered. ' Mr. Aylmer mentioned fifteen 
 hundred a year. And on the death of his father 
 he will come into a considerable fortune. You 
 are very foolish. But it may not be too late. I 
 have reason to believe that he liked you very 
 much. Perhaps you do not realize what a repellent 
 manner you have ? A stranger would think that 
 you were always sulky about something. You 
 must cultivate a more pleasing expression, my dear 
 child, or few men will look at you twice.' 
 
 ' Then they can look another way,' muttered 
 Rosabel. 
 
 ' Please don't be impertinent,' said Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne severely. 
 
 The conversation lapsed as Benson returned. 
 
 Rosabel helped herself blindly to the dish proffered 
 her. 
 
 Had her mother's complaint originated in her 
 own head ? She meant to ask when Benson was 
 gone again, but Mrs. Fairbourne spoke first. She 
 might have guessed what the girl wanted to knoWj 
 although her remark was only an after-thought, 
 designed to impress. 
 
 1 1 am not the only person who thinks you are
 
 ROSABEL 137 
 
 making the worst instead of the best of yourself,' 
 she added. 
 
 ' Do you mean Mr. Aylmer ?' inquired Rosabel. 
 
 ' Yes. We were talking about you this after- 
 noon. He is kind enough to take an interest in 
 you on my account, and he thinks that it is a pity 
 you don't try to be more attractive.' 
 
 Rosabel's cheeks burned like hot coals. Then 
 he was a traitor ; he had discussed her with the 
 enemy ! She hated him at this moment. He had 
 become once more the stranger who had smiled 
 with her mother over her awkwardness on her 
 first night at Great Cumberland Place. 
 
 As it happened, several days passed before she 
 saw him again. Aylmer was kept very busy 
 doing nothing, like most idle, pleasant men of 
 means. 
 
 When they did meet at last Mrs. Fairbourne 
 and Rosabel were driving in the Park, and the sight 
 of him brought the victoria to a standstill at the 
 rails. 
 
 ' Where have you been ?' asked Mrs. Fairbourne, 
 with gentle reproach. 
 
 ' I am so sorry ; engagements. You will soon 
 have every opportunity of getting tired of me.' 
 
 His reply would have sounded pointed to an 
 outsider ; unfortunately, she knew what he meant 
 only too well. They were due at the same country 
 house next week.
 
 138 ROSABEL 
 
 * Oh, you are fishing,' she said. ' Such modesty 
 is unnatural !' 
 
 They chatted for a few minutes { and Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne invited him to drive with them. Rosabel 
 told herself that she hoped he would decline, and 
 yet when he did so she was disappointed. He had 
 not spoken to her all this time, and she had not 
 spoken to him. If he did address her she did not 
 mean to be agreeable. He should find that she 
 did not think enough of his opinion to take it to 
 heart. 
 
 * Well, Rosabel,' he said suddenly, ' are you 
 beginning to long for the country ? I am. The 
 London trees are getting brown with dust. I 
 annex your company for a walk every fine morning ! 
 I am sure you and I will be the only people down 
 to breakfast at eight. Take note of it !' 
 
 * I haven't many engagements,' said Rosabel, 
 ' so I am not likely to forget.' 
 
 * If you do,' he said, * I shall come and hammer 
 at your door.' 
 
 Rosabel's anger vanished like mist in the sun. 
 Perhaps he had not criticised her unkindly, after 
 all ! He had told her himself that she was too 
 silent and reserved to please people. He need 
 not have repeated it to her mother, certainly, but 
 she could not help forgiving him. It was so evident 
 that he had not the least suspicion of having hurt 
 her in any way.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 FROM that moment Rosabel began to look forward 
 to this visit to the country. The prospect of 
 staying at a strange house with a party of people 
 who did not want her had seemed likely to be 
 far more of an ordeal than a pleasure, and she 
 had dreaded it. But it would make a great dif- 
 ference if Aylmer took notice of her. Perhaps, 
 after all, she would enjoy herself. 
 
 A rare light illumined the girl's eyes, and her lips 
 relaxed. She had a beautiful mouth when she 
 allowed it to retain its natural lines full, soft, 
 sensitive, and her face could be wholly sweet and 
 lovable. 
 
 She was picturing what it would be like to ramble 
 through the fields and lanes with Alec Aylmer. 
 They would be alone, and in the early morning, 
 when the air was fresh and the dew still sparkling 
 on the grass. Already she could smell the newly- 
 turned earth, and hear the larks, and feel the 
 spring of turf under her feet. The country was 
 
 139
 
 I 4 o ROSABEL 
 
 best after all. He had spoken as though he liked 
 it too. She was glad of that, and glad that 
 he should know, without asking* that she shared 
 his taste. It renewed the old sympathy between 
 them, and made her feel at home with him. If 
 only her mother were not coming to make her 
 miserable again with ridicule and contempt, and 
 to remind him to be cynical ! When they were 
 alone he was so different. 
 
 Her musings culminated in a warm thrill, an 
 odd fluttering of the heart. It had come suddenly 
 the realization that she loved him. A great shame 
 overwhelmed her. It was happiness as well for 
 the moment in which she saw life as it might be 
 and had never been for her. 
 
 ' You will get love, and love is everything to a 
 woman.' 
 
 Then she had felt no more than a dim aching 
 born of loneliness and the savage self-depreciation 
 which was for ever telling her that she must always 
 be different from other girls. Now the longing was 
 definite ; but even as she recognised it the rapture 
 passed, and her heart sank and sank, and hope 
 drained away like the sand in a glass. It was stupid 
 of her to care. Of course, he would never. . . . 
 
 Henceforward she blushed at the mention of 
 his name, and feared that he would guess her 
 secret if she looked at him. A glance from her 
 mother was like an accusation. Nobody must know.
 
 ROSABEL 141 
 
 This secret she would share with none Aylmer 
 least of all. 
 
 ' You are not offended about anything, are you ?' 
 he asked her one day. 
 
 ' No,' she said. 
 
 ' Sure ?' 
 
 She nodded, trying to smile, and feeling more 
 inclined to cry. 
 
 Still, he was kind to her, and it was possible 
 that even she dreamed dreams. But she only 
 regarded them as dreams. They were as distinct 
 from life, in Rosabel's estimation, as the penny 
 stories she used to read. She passed the time, 
 that was all, and when she saw or heard anything 
 that moved her, the hunger came which she had 
 mentioned to Aylmer in that burst of confidence 
 in the moonlight by the sea. 
 
 So Rosabel began to count the days, and Mrs. 
 Fairbourne began to count the days, each brooding 
 apart. The woman thought only of herself and 
 her own plans ; the girl looked upon her as the 
 worst enemy of her life. They did not draw 
 together ; no real intimacy resulted from their 
 intercourse. Mrs. Fairbourne's air was always of 
 well-bred tolerance when it was not faintly con- 
 temptuous ; Rosabel did not even try to be com- 
 panionable. Neither of them ever forgot for a 
 moment that the bond between them was that of 
 compulsion alone.
 
 x 4 2 ROSABEL 
 
 They might have gone on indefinitely in this 
 way if something in the nature of a thunder-bolt 
 had not startled Mrs. Fairbourne into realizing the 
 precariousness of all things human, particularly a 
 man's fancy. 
 
 It was the eve of their departure from London, 
 and she and Aylmer were alone in the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 ' I am glad we are going to-morrow,' he said. 
 * Rosabel wants a change. She isn't used to London. 
 The girl begins to look fine-drawn.' 
 
 ' Rosabel !' exclaimed Mrs. Fairbourne. * Why, 
 she has the shoulders of a dragoon and the appetite 
 of a navvy !' 
 
 He found her coarse for once, and showed dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 ' She may be a strong and healthy girl,' he said ; 
 ' all the better. One naturally longs to see her 
 keep her health and develop into a splendid woman 
 as she would do with wholesome surroundings 
 and happiness.' 
 
 His voice dwelt upon the final word as though 
 calling her attention to it. 
 
 * A splendid animal, you mean,' she said. 
 
 * Not at all,' he replied, with the deliberation of 
 a man who utters what has been in his mind for 
 some time. * I begin to get tired of the attitude 
 the pose, shall I say ? of the set we live in. Isn't 
 it trivial ? Isn't it rather unwholesome ? I am
 
 ROSABEL 143 
 
 certain it is a bore ! We judge people's value in 
 the scheme of creation solely by the books they 
 write, the pictures they paint, the music they com- 
 pose, their successes on the stage, or their mere 
 ability to criticise, and to criticise the critics. 
 As though nothing else mattered ! Whereas it is 
 everything else that matters. The importance of 
 art is absurdly overrated. The world could do 
 without jam, but it couldn't do without bread and 
 butter.' 
 
 ' Man cannot live by bread alone !' she retorted 
 promptly. 
 
 ' Granted. Jam is pleasant in the proper pro- 
 portion, but a surfeit of it makes one sick, and leaves 
 one still unsatisfied.' 
 
 ' And you are sick ?' she queried. 
 
 ' Precisely. I crave for the bread good, whole- 
 some farmhouse bread, and milk, and fresh air, 
 and nature !' 
 
 ' Oh, you renegade !' she cried. 
 
 ' Let a man pass his life in ploughing fields rather 
 than in splitting hairs, and a woman take more 
 interest in her children than in the higher culture.' 
 
 ' Have you fallen a prey to a militant parson, or 
 what is the matter with you to-day ?' she asked. 
 ' You with your collection of antique weapons, 
 your cabinets of old china, your shelf of bibelots ! 
 I shall tell everybody ! Don't imagine that I shall 
 spare you.'
 
 144 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 She carried off the chagrin his thrust had caused 
 her magnificently ; she had plenty of pluck or 
 the mask which is always at the service of the 
 woman of the world. 
 
 ' One wastes a lot of money,' he said reflectively. 
 ' I think I shall sell my works of art, and with the 
 proceeds found a mission for the conversion to 
 nature of the artists and critics of London. As for 
 Rosabel, I should like to see her the mistress of a 
 comfortable country house, with horses to ride, and 
 dogs to play with, and children yes, children to 
 bring up. She would make an ideal wife and mother.' 
 
 ' Why, may I ask ?' 
 
 * Because she has a heart,' he said, ' and she 
 hungers for what she has never had something to 
 love.' 
 
 ' You seem to know a great deal about Rosabel's 
 feelings !' said Mrs. Fairbourne. ' More than I do. 
 When has she been talking to you ?' 
 
 * We have had a few opportunities,' he replied^ 
 ' which we have made the most of.' 
 
 * So I perceive.' 
 
 She tried to answer lightly, but the effort was 
 an act of heroism. A storm was upon her, and she 
 had been too preoccupied to observe how the clouds 
 were gathering. 
 
 When the door closed behind him at last, and she 
 was alone, a sound broke from her like that of a deep 
 breath long withheld.
 
 ROSABEL 145 
 
 { Can he be taking a fancy to Rosabel ?' she asked 
 herself. ' Incredible !' 
 
 It really seemed incredible to her, with her con- 
 tempt for the girl. Nevertheless, it might be, and 
 the suspicion rankled in her mind. 
 
 After all, men were much alike. The best of 
 them asked for nothing more than flesh, pink and 
 white flesh, and plenty of it. 
 
 Wounded vanity and jealousy made her heart 
 burn. She loved him, and he was looking over her 
 shoulder at Rosabel ! She had been so sure of him^ 
 and his eyes were wandering ; the old ideals were 
 being dethroned. He was becoming restless, 
 seeking something new. His attention must be 
 reclaimed. She would not give him up. The mor- 
 tification of knowing that he had even faltered was 
 bad enough. 
 
 And for Rosabel ! Rosabel, the girl she had 
 scorned, and been ashamed of acknowledging as 
 her daughter ! Rosabel, brought up by a publican's 
 wife in a village inn ! 
 
 Perhaps he was merely in a bad temper this after- 
 noon. No man with any pretence to civilization 
 could be serious in comparing her unfavourably 
 with Rosabel. His mood would pass, no doubt, 
 assisted by a little tact on her part. If she could 
 only get the girl safely married to somebody any- 
 body else without loss of time ! George Bellamy 
 must be given another chance. 
 
 10
 
 146 ROSABEL 
 
 ' I'll take a country house for a month, and ask 
 him down,' she determined. ' There is nothing like 
 a country house.' 
 
 Meanwhile, she made her first move after 
 dinner, when she was quite cool, and no longer 
 afraid that temper would betray her. 
 
 * Do you like Mr. Aylmer, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I like him.' 
 
 ' You have talked to him a great deal, haven't 
 you ? You seem to have been more confidential 
 with him than you have been with me ! I thought 
 you had nothing to say for yourself, but that seems 
 to be a mistake ; you can talk when you consider it 
 worth while ! Probably you find men better com- 
 pany than women ?' 
 
 ' No,' said Rosabel brusquely. ' Some people are 
 nice, and some people aren't. I don't see that sex 
 makes any difference.' 
 
 ' But it is natural that you should feel flattered 
 by the notice of a man of the world. I am very 
 pleased that he takes the trouble to draw you out. 
 I was thanking him this afternoon for being so kind 
 to you/ 
 
 Rosabel looked down. 
 
 ' What I want to say to you,' pursued her mother, 
 ' is that you must not allow his attention to make 
 you vain. I know how easily girls deceive them- 
 selves, and you, in particular, have had so little 
 experience of the right sort. You must not forget
 
 ROSABEL 147 
 
 that he is a great deal older than you, and regards 
 you as a child, as my daughter.' 
 
 The girl's brows lowered. 
 
 ' Of course,' added Mrs. Fairbourne, with em- 
 phasis, * he is my very best friend. It is natural 
 that he should take the deepest interest in you. I 
 was acting upon his advice, indeed, when I sent for 
 you. He thought it was a pity that we should not 
 be together. His disposition is not poor George's 
 so absurdly jealous. He is always reasonable. 
 You understand ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' murmured Rosabel. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne knew when to leave well alone. 
 She had said enough to put an end to any dan- 
 gerous ideas his sympathy might have aroused in 
 Rosabel's head without giving the girl anything to 
 repeat. 
 
 In a few minutes Rosabel got up silently and left 
 the room. 
 
 ' Of course,' she thought, ' he is going to marry 
 her ! Why didn't I suspect it before ?' 
 
 She could believe now that she had been foolishly 
 dense, and that she ought to have known why he 
 came to Great Cumberland Place so much oftener 
 than anyone else. Her mother was still a young 
 woman, and a clever, smart, and charming woman. 
 Nobody could be readier to admit that than Rosabel. 
 She remembered that they had been together the 
 first time she saw them ; and, looking back, she could 
 
 TO 2
 
 148 ROSABEL 
 
 recall many signs of a mutual attachment. While 
 she had been priding herself upon his interest, in 
 fact, he had been merely looking kindly upon her 
 mother's daughter. She had her mother to thank 
 for the reflected honour of his attention. 
 
 Bitter humiliation and grief overwhelmed her. 
 
 ' I know how easily girls deceive themselves.' 
 
 The lightly-spoken words stung her to the quick. 
 She could not bear to think of them. She could 
 scarcely bear to go on living. Perhaps even Aylmer 
 was laughing at her. He would be her stepfather 
 by-and-by, but a kinder stepfather than Mr. Fair- 
 bourne, who was so ' absurdly jealous ' ! This man's 
 ? disposition ' was better ; he would not begrudge 
 her a share of her mother's roof. 
 
 Yes, it was fortunate that the dreams had only 
 been dreams, and that she had never reckoned on 
 them. 
 
 Nevertheless, she felt desolate and wept miserably, 
 as though she had lost something which she could 
 never regain, and no longer anticipated her visit to 
 the country with pleasure. Of course, Alec Aylmer 
 had been asked on purpose to oblige her mother. 
 Everybody knew what she had been too stupid to 
 perceive. In future she would have to regard him 
 in quite another light as a prospective stepfather ! 
 That was too much. He could not be such a great 
 deal older than she was ; he looked a young man. 
 She wondered, a little maliciously, if his age were
 
 ROSABEL 149 
 
 not more suited to her own than to her mother'sj 
 after all. 
 
 Aylmer was to meet them at the station, and they 
 were to travel down to Hertfordshire together. If 
 Rosabel could have stayed at home alone, without 
 any questions being asked, she would have preferred 
 it. As that was impossible, she was ready when the 
 brougham came round in the morning with the 
 station basket on the roof. It might have comforted 
 her if she had known what pangs of anxiety lay 
 half acknowledged beneath her mother's assumption 
 of high spirits. 
 
 Rosabel barely glanced at Aylmer when he shook 
 hands with her, and on the journey she sat in 
 the farthest corner, and looked steadily out of 
 the window. She would be polite if he spoke 
 to her, but she would never allow him to lure her 
 into any more confidences. He ought to have 
 warned her. She must have offended him uncon- 
 sciously several times with her remarks about her 
 mother. 
 
 In the course of the journey he offered her the 
 Sketch, and at the little country station, where Mrs. 
 Harrowby met them, he seemed to remember that 
 she might be feeling neglected while the women 
 greeted each other with the warmth of intimate 
 friends. 
 
 ' Do you like old country houses, Rosabel ? You 
 are going to see a perfect gem of its kind. Mr.
 
 I 5 o ROSABEL 
 
 Harrowby is a famous painter, and wherever you 
 look there is something beautiful.' 
 
 ' I don't know much about works of art.' 
 
 ' But you have good natural taste ; I have 
 watched you.' 
 
 ' I don't see how you can think so. I used to 
 dress very badly,' she said antagonistically. ' I 
 hadn't a notion. Mother said so, and she was 
 right.' 
 
 ' You learn quickly. It is all a matter of educa- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' Yes, education. And I haven't any. Knowing 
 how to read and write and spell, and where Siam is 
 on the map, isn't education !' 
 
 ' You have already learned something when you 
 have learned that. Some people go through their 
 lives without knowing it.' 
 
 She turned her face away. 
 
 ' I ought to have been drowned when I was born, 
 like the puppies which aren't worth keeping.' 
 
 ' What is this, Rosabel ?' 
 
 Rosabel did not reply. She was choking with 
 mingled emotions, in which that of a persistent 
 sense of inferiority was the most marked. If any- 
 one had addressed her, she would have burst into 
 tears. 
 
 May Harrowby was speaking as they all got into 
 the landau. She was a long-limbed woman, aesthe- 
 tically attired, whose arched mouth and large,
 
 ROSABEL 151 
 
 mournful eyes were frequently reproduced upon her 
 husband's canvases. 
 
 ' By the way, Amy, the eighth member of our 
 party is an acquaintance of yours,' she said. ' I 
 asked him at the last moment instead of Jack 
 Stirling, who couldn't come Maurice Braithwaite.' 
 
 ' Braithwaite,' repeated Mrs. Fairbourne vaguely. 
 
 ' Don't you remember ? A big fair fellow, a 
 Philistine, but rather good fun. County, I believe. 
 A friend of the Gledhows. He has a place called 
 Hallowdene somewhere in Bucks.' 
 
 * Yes, of course,' said Mrs. Fairbourne. ' Rosabel 
 knows him better than I do.' 
 
 She was annoyed, but concealed it. Rosabel was 
 also annoyed. It seemed as though she would 
 never shake him off. 
 
 ' He arrives with the Gledhows by the next train,' 
 added Mrs. Harrowby, happily unconscious of her 
 error.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AYLMER had behaved so well on the way down that 
 Mrs. Fairbourne was reassured. Surely she was 
 mistaken after all, and he would be surprised and 
 amused at a mere suggestion that he could take 
 Rosabel seriously ? 
 
 Even when Harrowby was showing them the 
 grounds, and Aylmer waited for Rosabel, the act, 
 as he performed it, seemed one of mere politeness. 
 He was always a gentleman, and could not leave 
 the girl to follow alone. Perhaps he had realized 
 that he had been tactless yesterday, and was anxious 
 to atone. She did not mean to be harsh to him. 
 The clever woman knows when to overlook a fault 
 and hold her tongue. 
 
 She bloomed joyously in the sunshine. If Rosa- 
 bel was the pink rosebud, she was the white rose 
 in full flower, perhaps, but not at all faded. She 
 felt self-satisfied, self-confident, secure once more. 
 
 Tea was brought into the sitting-hall when they 
 re-entered, and a few minutes later the other guests 
 arrived. Again Rosabel found herself shaking hands 
 
 152
 
 ROSABEL 153 
 
 with Maurice Braithwaite, who greeted her mis- 
 chievously. 
 
 * The fates are kind to me,' he said. 
 Rosabel scowled. 
 
 ' You are everywhere,' she said. 
 
 ' Do say you are glad to see me !' 
 
 She tossed her head, and he dropped into a chair 
 beside her, as Mrs. Harrowby handed him his tea, 
 and whispered low : 
 
 ' When, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' Never never never !' she answered in the 
 same tone. 
 
 ' Yes, you will. It must be. There's luck in the 
 third meeting. Don't you know that I am to be 
 your fate ?' 
 
 He only spoke in jest, to get a ' rise,' as he would 
 have called it, out of the girl ; but she stared at him 
 with sudden uneasiness, as though the suggestion 
 had alarmed her. 
 
 * You are so fond of talking nonsense, Mr. Braith- 
 waite ! You, a married man !' 
 
 ' Do you think it is only bachelors who can be 
 foolish ? I may get a divorce, you know.' 
 
 ' I don't care whether you do or not. It would 
 be fortunate, I think, for your wife.' 
 
 ' How unkind you are ! Don't you call me a nice 
 man ?' 
 
 'No,' she said emphatically. ' Horrid perfectly 
 horrid !'
 
 154 ROSABEL 
 
 * That isn't your real opinion ! You are afraid of 
 making me vain.' 
 
 He laughed aloud at her gaze of indignation, and 
 Mrs. Fairbourne glanced across at them. Braith- 
 waite, she perceived, was drawn to the girl. It was 
 a pity that he was married. She was surprised to 
 find that Rosabel was attractive to men, and to such 
 various men as Alec Aylmer, George Bellamy, and 
 Maurice Braithwaite. What could they see in her ? 
 Had her brusque indifference, almost amounting to 
 rudeness, the fascination of sour grapes ? 
 
 When they went up to dress for dinner she called 
 Rosabel into her room. 
 
 The girl came, reluctant as usual, and waited like 
 a child summoned by the schoolmistress for repri- 
 mand. Her mother never wanted her, she was 
 aware, for any agreeable reason. 
 
 ' It is most unfortunate,' said Mrs. Fairbourne 
 fretfully, ' that Mr. Braithwaite should be here. I 
 hope he will have the tact not to mention par- 
 ticulars of your acquaintance. You might give 
 him a hint.' 
 
 ' I don't see how I can do that,' replied Rosabel. 
 
 ' Why not ? You are friendly enough with 
 him.' 
 
 ' I don't mind his talking about it,' said the girl. 
 ' Making a secret of things doesn't alter them.' 
 
 ' / object !' said Mrs. Fairbourne sharply. ' There 
 is no occasion to argue.'
 
 ROSABEL 155 
 
 ' Then will you tell him ?' suggested Rosabel. 
 
 The colour rose to Mrs. Fairbourne's cheeks. She 
 turned to the dressing-table. 
 
 ' You are the most obstinate, ill-tempered girl I 
 ever met ! I wish I had left you at home ! 
 Why should I consider you ? You never consider 
 me!' 
 
 ' I didn't know you were considering me, mother,' 
 said Rosabel. ' I thought you only supposed that 
 remarks would be made if you left me at home. I 
 can go back to-morrow if you like.' 
 
 * I am much obliged for your kind permission,' 
 responded Mrs. Fairbourne sarcastically. ' I will 
 think about it.' 
 
 She rang for her maid. 
 
 Rosabel waited in silence for a moment. 
 
 ' Do you want me any longer, please ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 The girl went to her room. It was apparent to 
 her that the relationship between her and her mother 
 was growing more strained every day. Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne no longer even troubled to disguise her irrita- 
 tion when she was irritated, or her anger when she 
 was angry. The * speaking out ' stage had arrived, 
 and it boded ill for the peace of the household. 
 
 As usual, Rosabel's toilet was soon accomplished * 
 and she was alone in the hall when Maurice Braith- 
 waite entered. To her annoyance, he expressed an 
 exaggerated delight at the fact.
 
 156 ROSABEL 
 
 * Now,' he said, ' is the very opportunity we have 
 been seeking so long !' 
 
 ' I don't know what you mean,' she declared with 
 steely eyes. 
 
 * Don't you, Rosabel ? Shall I whisper ?' 
 ' Certainly not.' 
 
 I mean to have it before I leave The Hermitage.' 
 
 Rosabel walked to the long, low, latticed window < 
 and sat down on the seat. Braithwaite followed 
 her. 
 
 ' If I were our good friend Harrowby, I would 
 paint you sitting there. You are improving every 
 day, Rosabel. I thought the change was wonderful 
 when I saw you at Folkestone ; but now your beauty 
 dazzles my eyes and bewilders my brain.' 
 
 ' I suppose you can't help being like this,' said 
 the girl, with quaint resignation, folding her hands 
 in her lap. ' But it is most objectionable for the 
 people who are obliged to listen to you.' 
 
 He laughed, greatly amused. 
 
 ' At last you are finding your tongue. It was the 
 one thing necessary to make you a charming little 
 girl.' 
 
 ' You know I'm not charming,' she said fiercely, 
 ' and I do hate ' 
 
 * But you are blushing.' 
 ' I'm not !' 
 
 Rosabel turned her cheeks away, and looked out 
 of the window.
 
 ROSABEL 157 
 
 ' I never saw a better imitation, then. Don't be 
 angry with me.' He sat down on the window-seat, 
 too, looking handsome in his white shirt-front and 
 dress-clothes. * Don't you really like my chaff ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Then I'll try to drop it. But you get so angry 
 that it's a temptation. You were always angry 
 with me in the old daj^s ; do you remember ? That 
 last time I saw you, for instance, at the Angler's 
 Inn.' 
 
 * I haven't forgotten it,' said Rosabel resent- 
 fully. 
 
 ' You've snubbed me without mercy half a dozen 
 times, but I bear no malice.' 
 
 His impudence left her speechless. Without being 
 downright rude, it was impossible, she felt, to find 
 an adequate retort. 
 
 At that moment trailing draperies descended the 
 staircase, and the hostess appeared. 
 
 ' I shall wear this next my heart for ever as a 
 token of your regard for me,' Braithwaite added 
 snatching up a little lace-bordered handkerchief 
 which Rosabel had dropped. 
 
 ' Give it back at once !' she cried. 
 
 ' Never, never !' he added, mimicking the tone in 
 which she had refused him the kiss, * until you 
 buy it !' 
 
 He slipped it into his pocket, and rose, laughing, 
 but not before Mrs. Harrowby's soulful eyes had
 
 i 5 8 ROSABEL 
 
 taken note of every detail of the little scene his 
 proximity to Rosabel on the window-seat, the steal- 
 ing of the handkerchief, and the low-voiced, urgent 
 intercourse, all arguing a pretty considerable fami- 
 liarity between the girl and the man. 
 
 She approached with rather a curious little 
 smile. 
 
 ' You were quick over your dressing, Rosabel.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I never take long,' replied Rosabel inno- 
 cently, unconscious of the innuendo. 
 
 * Where is your mother ?' 
 
 ' She will be down presently.' 
 
 Mrs. Harrowby sent her in to dinner with Braith- 
 waite. She had already arranged it in her mind, 
 and could not alter her plans. Besides, it was Amy 
 Fairbourne's place to look after her daughter. She 
 thought she would make a remark in private, never- 
 theless, if she saw any more : she was not a bad 
 sort of woman ; and over the table she glanced 
 several times at Rosabel. 
 
 On each occasion, as it happened, Braithwaite was 
 talking in an undertone to the girl, and Rosabel was 
 allowing him to monopolize her ; firstly because he 
 was her partner, and she understood that he was 
 entitled to her attention ; secondly, because Aylmer 
 was on the other side of her, and she had her reasons 
 for not wishing to talk to him ; lastly, because no- 
 body, except Aylmer, took any notice of her as a 
 rule ; and although she thought very little of Maurice
 
 ROSABEL 159 
 
 Braithwaite, it was pleasanter to be entertained 
 than to be left sitting silent and neglected at the 
 table. She was even grateful to him for showing 
 her mother and the other women yes, and Aylmer 
 that a man who did not come from the Australian 
 backwoods was willing to notice her for his own 
 pleasure, not out of mere kindness. In future they 
 might not treat her with quite such a lack of cere- 
 mony, and Aylmer would see that she could be 
 agreeable if she chose. 
 
 So she melted somewhat towards Braithwaite, and 
 smiled at his jokes, and tried not to be angry at his 
 impertinence. And when he proposed a stroll in 
 the garden after dinner she assented, but was glad 
 that one of the men came along and bore him off to 
 the billiard-room instead. 
 
 She did not go indoors herself. It was pleasanter 
 in the sweet-scented garden, and she seated her- 
 self in a big basket chair on the lawn, and 
 watched the clouds floating across the star-lit 
 sky. 
 
 Presently voices reached her. Two women's 
 figures were crossing the lawn, and as they ap- 
 proached Rosabel recognised her mother and Mrs. 
 Harrowby. 
 
 'Shall we sit here?' asked the hostess. 'Or 
 would you rather stroll ?' 
 
 ' It looks comfortable here.' 
 
 They did not see Rosabel, and the girl did not
 
 160 ROSABEL 
 
 speak or move. A couple of chairs creaked on the 
 other side of the tree. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mrs. Harrowby, as though resuming 
 a conversation already begun, ' I see a great improve- 
 ment. You are dressing her charmingly, my dear, 
 and she seems to have much more to say for herself 
 than when I dined with you five weeks ago. Pro- 
 bably she was shy.' 
 
 * I believe she lived very quietly with her father's 
 people,' responded Mrs. Fairbourne cautiously. 
 
 She was wondering how much Maurice Braith- 
 waite had told about Rosabel. May Harrowby, on 
 the other hand, was smiling with bitter sweetness 
 in the dark, and asking herself why she troubled 
 to do a good turn to a woman so uncandid as ' dear 
 Amy.' She pursued her course, nevertheless, be- 
 cause she was well-intentioned, and also because her 
 mind was too slow-moving for a change of tactics on 
 the spot. 
 
 * I was noticing her with Maurice Braith- 
 waite,' she pursued. ' Has she seen much of 
 him?' 
 
 ' I don't think so ; that is to say, I don't know,' 
 replied Mrs. Fairbourne uneasily. ' Why ?' 
 
 'They seem to be such excellent friends. I happened 
 to find them alone in the hall when I came down 
 before dinner both on the window-seat. He stole 
 her handkerchief, and kept it. If he were eligible, 
 now ! It does seem a pity. Evidently he admires
 
 ROSABEL 161 
 
 her, and he is simply rolling. Of course, she knows 
 that he has a wife ?' 
 
 ' I suppose so.' 
 
 ' I should find out, my dear. One cannot be too 
 careful with a girl. And he is an awful rake, poor 
 dear fellow ! Perhaps it was indiscreet to ask 
 him?' 
 
 ' Not at all,' said Mrs. Fairbourne. She quite 
 understood the warning given to her. ' But it's 
 very good of you to mention it. If there is any 
 nonsense, it is all on his side, and he is merely 
 taking advantage of her inexperience. Rosabel 
 doesn't care for men.' 
 
 ' Really ?' The languid voice was also a little 
 incredulous. 
 
 ' I'll soon stop it,' said Mrs. Fairbourne resolutely, 
 growing sincere. ' What cheek of him !' 
 
 ' If she were a married woman it wouldn't matter! 
 of course,' murmured her friend, ' but he might be 
 putting another man off a serious man. It's too 
 bad. Shall I ask a boy to play with her, and keep 
 her out of mischief ?' 
 
 ' May,' said Mrs. Fairbourne solemnly, ' you are a 
 great and noble woman.' 
 
 The artist's wife laughed. 
 
 ' There's Roger,' she said. ' Twenty-two years 
 old, six feet in his stockings, blue eyes and curly 
 hair ; son of old Sir Herbert Essendene, our next- 
 door neighbour. He shall come and spend the day.' 
 
 ii
 
 1 62 ROSABEL 
 
 * You shall be blessed for this a thousand-fold !' 
 ' I'll go in and write a note to him now, before it 
 gets too late,' said Mrs. Harrowby, rising. ' What 
 are the men doing ? I'm thirsty. Wouldn't you 
 like a little B. and S. ?' 
 
 The ladies moved away together, the best of 
 friends, and silence held the place of their low 
 voices and soft laughter and the rustling of many 
 silken frills.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 ROSABEL was undressing, and had just taken her 
 hair down, when somebody knocked at the door. 
 She unlocked it, and found her mother outside. 
 
 Mrs, Fairbourne came in. 
 
 ' I did not know you were going to bed,' she said. 
 
 * I am tired,' said Rosabel, averting her face, and 
 beginning to ply the hair-brush again. ' I said good- 
 night to Mrs. Harrowby. She excused me.' 
 
 It was a curious fact that Mrs. Fairbourne had 
 never seen Rosabel with her hair down before. She 
 had lovely hair. The woman who was her mother 
 admitted it at once. She noted, too, the firm, white, 
 well-moulded flesh of the girl's shoulders. Her 
 evening dresses should be cut lower in future 
 perhaps. 
 
 ' Where have you been all the evening ?' 
 
 * In the billiard-room and the garden.' 
 ' Talking to Mr. Braithwaite ?' 
 
 ' Yes and others.' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne sat down on the edge of the bed. 
 
 * You can go on undressing, as you are tired,' 
 
 163 ii 2
 
 164 ROSABEL 
 
 she said. ' Rosabel, do you know that Mr. Braith- 
 waite is married ?' 
 
 ' Of course I do,' responded Rosabel. 
 
 The rose-coloured shades of the candlesticks on 
 the dressing-table threw a glow over her face. 
 
 * One would not think so from the manner you 
 allow him to adopt towards you. He is too familiar. 
 It looks bad. Remarks have been made already.' 
 
 Rosabel's mechanical performance with the hair- 
 brush ceased. She confronted her mother. 
 
 ' I know all about it,' she said. ' I heard you and 
 Mrs. Harrowby talking in the garden.' 
 
 ' You heard ?' 
 
 ' I was in the big chair.' 
 
 * Eavesdropping, Rosabel !' 
 
 ' I didn't know you were going to talk about me. 
 I couldn't help hearing, and then I didn't like to 
 move.' 
 
 ' You behaved very badly.' 
 
 * I wasn't hiding,' said the girl sullenly. ' And I 
 was there first. Why didn't you see me ?' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne made an impatient gesture. 
 
 * As it happens,' she said, ' it is of no consequence. 
 You have only heard what I was going to tell 
 you.' 
 
 ' I didn't give him the handkerchief,' said Rosabel. 
 ' He took it.' 
 
 ' You should have demanded it back instantly, 
 and shown him that you were offended if he did
 
 ROSABEL 165 
 
 not return it. Instead, you let him talk to you all 
 through dinner.' 
 
 Rosabel ceased to defend herself, and returned 
 to her toilet. 
 
 * I am not finding fault with you for the sake 
 of finding fault,' continued her mother sharply, ' and 
 I am not a prude. But you are inexperienced, 
 and you must be told, although I know you don't 
 like it. I dare say you think you are playing the 
 woman of the world with Braithwaite, but you 
 are making a mistake. There is something between 
 behaving like a wooden doll which I don't want 
 you to do, goodness knows ! and attracting too 
 much notice. It's the wrong sort of notice. Nobody 
 could object to your accepting attention from an 
 eligible man, but Braithwaite is the worst sort of 
 married man, and he is not going to make a pastime 
 of my daughter while I am here to prevent it.' 
 
 The girl looked at her mother with sudden 
 curiosity. 
 
 4 Are you afraid that I shall fall in love with 
 him ?' she asked. 
 
 ' I don't think you would be such a fool,' said 
 Mrs. Fairbourne, ' but that isn't the question. 
 You must remember, Rosabel, that you have to 
 be even more careful, with your past, than the 
 average girl. Unfortunately, this Braithwaite knows 
 all about you , and it will be said that he is only 
 renewing an old acquaintance. What you have
 
 166 ROSABEL 
 
 to remember, and what he must be made to re- 
 member, is that you are My Daughter ' she spoke 
 in capitals ' and that he cannot treat you like a 
 barmaid.' 
 
 ' I was a barmaid,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' That is why I have to teach you how to behave 
 yourself,' replied her mother. * It should not be 
 necessary. You ought to be able to perceive 
 when a man's attention means respectful admiration 
 or impudence. To encourage, or even to condone, 
 the latter by silence argues a vulgar mind. For 
 God's sake, don't be vulgar, Rosabel ! I am afraid 
 that you must have permitted him a great deal 
 of latitude formerly, or he would not dare to remind 
 you by a look that you met under other circum- 
 stances. Anyhow, he is a blackguard, and the less 
 you have to do with him the better.' 
 
 Rosabel poured water out of the jug in silence. 
 
 * You cannot take it too much to heart that 
 the least whisper, in your case, would be fatal. 
 Nobody would want to marry you. And I am 
 very anxious to see you well married. It would 
 be a great relief.' 
 
 The girl gave her an odd bright glance before 
 bending over the basin to sponge her face. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne was meditating. 
 
 ' It should be someone who knew nothing,' she 
 added, uttering her thoughts aloud. * Some nice 
 young fellow near your own age.'
 
 ROSABEL 167 
 
 ' The boy next door ?' asked Rosabel. 
 
 Was it possible that she was sarcastic ? Mrs. 
 Fairbourne stared incredulously at the profile of 
 Rosabel's rounded cheek, and her colour mounted 
 slightly. 
 
 ' Oh, you heard that too ! Yes, anyone 
 anyone, 1 she said, ' as long as he was a gentleman, 
 and I need be no longer responsible for you !' 
 
 In the pause that followed the stable clock 
 struck twelve. The regular slow chiming seemed 
 to emphasize the stillness of the house, and the 
 faint rustle of the ivy at the window succeeded 
 it like the whispering of an unseen ghostly chorus 
 on a matter of moment urgently discussed. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne aroused herself. 
 
 * So late !' She rose, yawning. Her composure 
 was restored. ' I thought it wise to warn you. 
 The world is censorious. It is only a married woman 
 who can afford to play with fire. Good-night, my 
 dear.' 
 
 ' Good-night,' said Rosabel. 
 
 She relocked the door. Her face looked hot, 
 and her eyes still wore the curious expression with 
 which she had regarded her mother just now. 
 
 She finished undressing, and got into bed, but 
 left the candle alight beside her, and sat up staring, 
 her chin on her knees. 
 
 Once more there was silence, silence, as of a 
 world asleep. The flame of the candle flickered,
 
 1 68 ROSABEL 
 
 the shadows played hide-and-seek among the 
 window curtains, and again the ivy whispered a 
 message, persistently, as though it could wait no 
 longer for its will to be fulfilled. 
 
 Rosabel listened, translating slowly, understand- 
 ing dimly, like a child following a language still 
 strange, and her heart beat fast. 
 
 ' She doesn't care for you, only for herself 
 herself herself,' the voices whispered. ' You might 
 be as miserable as you liked as long as nothing 
 occurred to disgrace her, and nobody knew.' 
 
 The meaning of the whispers became clearer. 
 
 ' It is only fear of a scandal that could bring 
 home to her what she has done. She never pro- 
 tected you ; she left you exposed to the vulgar 
 temptations of a public-house. If you had fallen 
 then she would not have cared. Nobody knew 
 you you could have dropped in obscurity like an 
 autumn leaf. But now, for money, she has intro- 
 duced you to the world as her daughter, and your 
 actions reflect upon her pride, and your disgrace 
 would be hers. So she is anxious about you for 
 her own sake, just as she was anxious formerly to 
 hide you in some corner out of the way.' 
 
 The voices became articulate. At last Rosabel 
 heard what she had been straining to hear uncon- 
 sciously since she came to Great Cumberland 
 Place. 
 
 ' Suppose you were really what you might have
 
 ROSABEL 169 
 
 been ? Suppose her false pride and heartlessness 
 found its due punishment ?' 
 
 Something seemed to crack in the girl's brain 
 and admit a flash like lightning, and all the anguish, 
 the resentment, the yearning aspirations which 
 for years had filled her breast to the point of 
 bursting, culminated in that illumination of mind 
 with the passionate thrilling foretaste of a possible 
 revenge. 
 
 If that harvest should be reaped which had been 
 sown !
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 BREAKFAST was a movable feast at The Hermitage. 
 It was on the table from eight till ten, and people 
 made their own tea or poured out their own coffee, 
 and selected from covered silver dishes kept hot 
 by an arrangement of spirit lamps on the sideboard. 
 
 Maurice Braithwaite, descending on the stroke 
 of nine, found an empty room, and windows standing 
 wide to the scented sunshine. 
 
 He took some fish and coffee. Among the letters 
 on a side-table he found a couple for himself, and 
 opened them with the careless air of an unburdened 
 mind. He had no bills, and there was nobody in 
 the world he cared twopence about, his wife included. 
 He looked clean and smart in a gray suit and white 
 tie, and he seated himself leisurely at the table with 
 his cup and plate, and reached for the rolls. 
 
 Then something came between him and the 
 sunlight, and, glancing up, he saw Rosabel at the 
 window. 
 
 * 'Morning, Rosabel.' 
 
 She entered, bare-headed, her straw hat in her 
 170
 
 ROSABEL 171 
 
 hand, treading with a certain light cautiousness 
 like a young cat, her eyes fixed warily on him. 
 There was something unusual in her manner this 
 morning, something he could not define, which 
 made him watch her across the room as he had 
 caught her watching him from the window. 
 ' Have you had breakfast ?' 
 
 * No,' said Rosabel deliberately. ' I waited for 
 you.' 
 
 ' Did you ?' He gave a little laugh of mingled 
 surprise and amusement. ' Now I call that real 
 friendly ! In return, I'll get you your breakfast.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't trouble,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' I'll wait upon you for a change !' he said. 
 ' Sit here beside me. What will you have ? I 
 recommend the fish.' 
 
 She seated herself at the table, while he rose to 
 wait on her. What would they have said at the 
 Angler's Inn ? 
 
 * Been up long ?' he asked. 
 ' Half an hour.' 
 
 * You're hungry, then ? And you waited for me !' 
 He laughed again. ' Good girl !' 
 
 ' I guessed you would be late,' she said. 
 
 ' Why ?' 
 
 ' Oh, you are the sort of person who would be, 
 I think, unless you had something very nice to do.' 
 
 ' Such as talking to you !' he supplemented. 
 ' I would have got up earlier if I'd known. Let
 
 172 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 us have breakfast together every morning, shall we, 
 Rosabel ?' 
 
 * If you like,' she said. ' But I want mine at 
 eight, as a rule, not at nine.' 
 
 ' I'll get up at eight, too, if you insist ; but can't 
 you make it half -past ?' 
 
 * Very well, half-past eight.' 
 
 There was a glimmer of a smile on her face. 
 His eyes sought hers, and held them. 
 
 * I am still wearing your handkerchief next my 
 heart,' he said, and showed her a corner. ' Look !' 
 
 ' That's silly,' said the girl with composure, 
 * because you are not in love with me.' 
 
 ' I am madly in love with you !' 
 
 ' But it isn't at all proper that you should be,' 
 said Rosabel. 
 
 ' Do let me forget my wife for ten minutes. 
 Are you trying to take away my appetite, you cruel 
 girl ?' 
 
 * I think you are making fun of me,' she said. 
 ' And I don't like people who make fun of me.' 
 
 He was still eating, but his attention was no longer 
 absorbed by trout and coffee. Again he was per- 
 plexed by that subtle something about her which 
 was new. In the moment that he paused to find 
 an answer it came to him. She was making a 
 step forward instead of a step back. If she were 
 still a little timid, she was also attracted or merely 
 curious. In either case, her lure was intentional,
 
 ROSABEL 173 
 
 not unconscious. Yesterday she had shrunk from 
 him with indignation, this morning she held out 
 her hand. 
 
 He admired her, and he was the last man in the 
 world to be restrained by decency. When nothing 
 was given him he begged ; if any woman gave him 
 an inch, he took an ell. He never forgot, of course, 
 where and how her life had been spent. It was 
 absurd to expect a prude to come out of the Angler's 
 Inn. She had wanted stirring up, as he had con- 
 cluded before, and, unconsciously, it seemed, he 
 had done the stirring up. He was gratified. Never 
 had so little trouble promised a keener reward. 
 
 ' Have some more trout, Rosabel ? No ? Fruit, 
 then ?' 
 
 He gave her a clean plate, and took a peach 
 himself with a glance at the girl which was full of 
 meaning. 
 
 ' Do you like peaches, Rosabel ?' 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 ' So do I,' he said. ' We all do. Only sometimes 
 they're green and bad for us, and sometimes other 
 people get the pick of the dish before we're down ! 
 The thing is to be down early, eh ?' 
 
 * I don't know what you mean,' she said, frowning 
 at him for the first time that morning. 
 
 * Peaches should be fresh and luscious,' he said, 
 4 and with pink cheeks like yours. ... Is Aylmer 
 going to marry your mother ?' he added abruptly.
 
 I 7 4 ROSABEL 
 
 ' They haven't told me. 1 
 
 ' Do you want a stepfather ?' he asked. 
 
 She reddened. 
 
 * I don't care.' 
 
 ' She's a smart woman, your mother, but 
 Lord ! he would be the third, wouldn't he ? A 
 plucky fellow, by Jove 1' 
 
 * She didn't kill the other two,' said Rosabel,- 
 prompted by a peculiar inconsistency to defend her 
 mother. 
 
 He laughed loudly. 
 
 * Bravo, Rosabel ! you are certainly finding your 
 tongue ! Let me pour you out some more coffee.' 
 
 They finished breakfast amicably, and Braith- 
 waite had strolled outside, lighting a cigarette, 
 while Rosabel lingered to pin on her hat, when 
 Aylmer entered. 
 
 He smiled at the girl. 
 
 * You forgot our appointment !' 
 
 * What appointment ?' she asked. 
 
 * Weren't we going to take a walk before breakfast 
 on our first morning here ? I reminded you last 
 night. I expected you down at seven o'clock. 
 Did you oversleep yourself ?' 
 
 * No ; I didn't feel inclined to get up.' 
 
 * So you had breakfast all alone as a punishment !' 
 
 * I had it with Mr. Braithwaite,' she said. 
 Aylmer's brows contracted sharply. 
 
 At that moment the other man called her.
 
 ROSABEL 175 
 
 ' Are you ready, Rosabel ?' 
 
 * Where are you going ?' asked Aylmer. 
 
 * Only into the garden.' 
 
 * May I come too ?' was on the tip of his tongue, 
 but he did not utter the question. Instead, he 
 turned away, and picked up a newspaper, and over 
 the edge of it watched her join Braithwaite. 
 
 Why it should enrage him to see them together 
 he did not know, but enrage him it did. He told 
 himself that he did not like Braithwaite, and that 
 he was an unfit companion for a young girl. An 
 intimate acquaintance with the man's antecedents 
 was not necessary for his information. Braith- 
 waite's * tone ' had been palpable enough in the 
 billiard-room last night. Even before that it had 
 been easy enough to gauge him. 
 
 Aylmer opened the newspaper, and read a 
 column. When he reached the bottom of it he 
 began again labouredly. Then his eyes wandered 
 with his thoughts. 
 
 * I shall speak to Amy,' he said aloud. 
 
 The sharp reminder of memory that Rosabel was 
 not fresh from the schoolroom or the convent, 
 and should have acquired a wide experience in 
 peculiar circumstances^ was singularly unwelcome 
 to him. The girl was no hothouse bloom, indeed. 
 She must have come into contact with a good 
 many men, and been left to sift the wheat from 
 the tares alone. And she had known Maurice
 
 176 ROSABEL 
 
 Braithwaite in those days. As a matter of fact, he 
 was her oldest acquaintance at The Hermitage, her 
 mother included. 
 
 Aylmer snatched at the paper again, and read a 
 divorce case, a leader, and an advertisement for 
 somebody's pills, with the air of a judge. 
 
 ' All the same, I thought she didn't like him,' 
 he mused. 
 
 He was also conscious that he had hoped so. In 
 his estimation it soiled her natural cleanliness of 
 soul that she should be on friendly terms with a 
 man worse than second-rate. She ought to be 
 able to discriminate. He had given her credit for 
 fine instincts. 
 
 At the back of his mind, too, was disappointment 
 that she had not thought it worth while to get up 
 for a walk with him, and had not even troubled 
 to excuse herself. He had had the idea that she 
 liked him, and would take some pains to retain his 
 friendship. But the world was full of disappoint- 
 ments, and the man who thought that a girl had 
 been really sincere with him was probably a fool. 
 
 It was seldom that he was bitter, and presently 
 he felt that it was absurd to be offended. The 
 incident was not sufficiently important, and he 
 chose to look after her ; she should not be left alone 
 with Braithwaite. 
 
 He put down the newspaper, and followed them. 
 He had it in his mind to warn her, at the first oppor-
 
 ROSABEL 177 
 
 tunity, against Braithwaite. She always seemed 
 to listen when he spoke to her. Of course, it was' 
 her mother's place, but Amy 
 
 Again strong irritation awoke in him, this time 
 against Mrs. Fairbourne. Really, there were duties 
 a woman owed to herself, and she was too casual. 
 She ought to care, and if she did not, decency would 
 assume something. 
 
 He did not know that he wronged her in this 
 instance, and would not have cared to know. He 
 wanted a scapegoat anyone instead of Rosabel. 
 
 When he came across the girl she was just stop- 
 ping to pick herself a rose. Braithwaite helped to 
 pin it in her dress, and their heads and hands 
 came close together. They seemed absorbed in 
 each other, and unconscious of observation, and a 
 reluctance to join them overtook Aylmer. He had 
 at least as much right to be with her as Braithwaite, 
 but that horror of being ridiculous, which is the 
 nightmare of the modern man, held him back with 
 chains. If Rosabel were to look surprised, if 
 Braithwaite were to smile sarcastically ! He was 
 not her brother, nor her guardian, nor even her 
 stepfather. In fact, it was not in his power to 
 preserve her from undesirable friends. 
 
 He turned away without another glance, and 
 went indoors again. In the interval Gledhow, a 
 big, stout, red-faced man, had come down, and'was 
 devouring ham and eggs with a horrible "appetite. 
 
 12
 
 I7 8 ROSABEL 
 
 Aylmer sat apart and watched him, for the 
 pleasure of contradicting every assertion he fired 
 off between mouthfuls, until the injured man 
 struck. 
 
 ' You are in a fine temper this morning ! Had a 
 bill for breakfast ?' 
 
 * I in a temper ?' exclaimed Aylmer coolly. 
 * What an idea !' 
 
 ' A beastly temper,' insisted Gledhow. ' Have 
 some more breakfast.' 
 
 ' No ; it is making me quite sick enough to watch 
 you. How a man, a normal civilized man, who 
 gets three meals a day every day of his life, should 
 be able to stoke like that directly he leaves his bed 
 is a marvel to me.' 
 
 Gledhow poured out more coffee, and put three 
 lumps of sugar in his cup with a seraphic smile. 
 
 ' Perhaps you are in love,' he said. 
 
 ' It is not astonishing that you grow fatter as 
 one looks at you. By-and-by you will be a huge 
 unwieldy object like a feather-bed, and you will 
 have to have a lift built in your house because you 
 can't walk upstairs.' 
 
 ' Certainly it is love,' said Gledhow. * Pass the 
 toast.' 
 
 Aylmer pushed the rack across the table. 
 
 ' Love,' he repeated, meditating, * love ! You 
 are so sentimental, Bobby. I remember you wept 
 in a handkerchief as big as a sheet last time
 
 ROSABEL 179 
 
 I took you to the theatre, and said you had a 
 cold.' 
 
 * I've been saving up to buy you a wedding- 
 present for ever so long,' said Gledhow, ' and still 
 no little cards come.' 
 
 Aylmer rose from the bottom of a well. His 
 tongue had been talking, not his brain. 
 
 'Eh ?' he queried vaguely. 
 
 ' Oh, for the hot impetuous blood of youth ! 
 You're fishy, that's what you are fishy !' Gledhow 
 sniffed contempt. ' You've got anaemic because 
 you don't believe in breakfast. By the time you are 
 my age you'll be a dried-up, withered old bachelor.' 
 
 ' What a splendid reader of character you are !' 
 said Aylmer. ' You are wasting yourself on canvas 
 and paint. You ought to set up as a fortune- 
 teller in Bond Street.' 
 
 ' Fishy,' repeated Gledhow, nodding. ' Ah, here 
 comes Mrs. Fairbourne. I'm going to ask her if 
 she doesn't agree with me.' 
 
 Aylmer smiled. 
 
 4 Go on,' he said. 
 
 * Is that a dare ?' murmured the other man, 
 chuckling. 
 
 ' I don't know what you mean,' said Aylmer. 
 * You can go to the devil !' 
 
 All the women came in. They had breakfasted 
 upstairs, and were ready for walking. 
 
 ' The programme,' said Mrs. Harrowby, ' is golf 
 
 12 2
 
 i8o ROSABEL 
 
 for four, and fishing for three, I believe, till lunch. 
 What will the girl do, Amy ?' 
 
 ' She can come with us to the golf course. Where 
 is she ?' 
 
 ' I saw her in the garden with Braithwaite,' said 
 Aylmer. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne bit her lip, and went to the 
 window. 
 
 * We are all coming out,' said Mrs. Harrowby. 
 
 Aylmer fetched his hat. When he rejoined the 
 others on the lawn Rosabel and Braithwaite were 
 with them, and a rose the flower which seemed so 
 intimately associated with Rosabel by name was 
 in Braithwaite's button-hole. 
 
 Something rapped Aylmer sharply on the heart. 
 He knew before he looked that Rosabel's rose 
 was gone, and that it was the identical one which 
 now adorned the man's coat. He must have asked 
 for it, and she had given it to him. 
 
 It was only a trifle, but the blood rushed to 
 Aylmer's head, and he felt hot ; it ebbed, and he 
 was white and a little shaky. He remembered 
 having just that sensation once when, as a boy, a 
 woman had first looked at him. It made him 
 realize. . . . 
 
 The revelation was almost a shock. He stood 
 silent with a drumming in his ears. Yes, he was 
 jealous with the jealousy of passion. If he could 
 have had his way she should not have spoken to
 
 ROSABEL 181 
 
 another man. He wanted her all to himself her 
 thoughts as well as her words, her eyes, her smiles. 
 And she was only a girl as other girls. There 
 was nothing so remarkable about her. She was 
 not a beauty, she was not clever; she had been 
 brought up in a way of which he disapproved 
 entirely in a way which would have frightened off 
 many men ; at their first meeting he had scarcely 
 looked at her. Why was it ? 
 
 Already he knew that his feeling for her was 
 entirely different from anything the mother or any 
 other woman had ever inspired in him. He had 
 admired Amy Fairbourne's elegance, her tact, her 
 cultivation, her knowledge of the world ; Rosabel 
 had none of these things, and he loved her. He 
 was so keen that it made him boil to see her 
 walking and talking with Braithwaite. The rose 
 Braithwaite wore was like an insult to him, an 
 insult which he would have liked to revenge with 
 a blow ! He despised while he analyzed himself. 
 He had been so cool and cautious, as reluctant to 
 take a step forward as a cat on ice, and now he was 
 ready at a glance from a girl of nineteen to risk 
 everything. 
 
 But he must have the glance. He was not the 
 man to court a refusal. There would have to be 
 some assurance on her part. And at present it 
 seemed likely that he would have to wait a long 
 time for it. She was taking no notice of him to-day.
 
 182 ROSABEL 
 
 She had even snubbed him. And the rose she had 
 picked was in Braithwaite's button-hole. Braith- 
 waite, who had no right whatever to expect it, was 
 the recipient of marked favour. 
 
 If she had been another girl he would have 
 called her a coquette, but he did not believe Rosabel 
 capable of any nonsense of that kind. An almost 
 brutal sincerity was hers by nature. When she 
 was hungry she ate, when she was tired she went 
 to bed, when she was pleased she smiled, when she 
 was angry she scowled. She could not play with 
 a man for mere amusement. Although Braith- 
 waite was out of the game, Aylmer feared that 
 she really cared for him, and grew exceedingly 
 bitter over such evidence of bad taste. He did not 
 say to himself in as many words, ' The girl who 
 is attracted by that animal cannot appreciate me,' 
 but he felt it. It would have pleased him to kick 
 Braithwaite out of The Hermitage gate. 
 
 A grimly humorous conception of his own 
 folly set him smiling at last. After all, time was 
 before him, and the vertigo which had attacked 
 his self-confidence passed over. He would wait 
 a bit. By-and-by she would turn to him again. 
 She did like him ; he was sure of that. The only 
 sane course would be to take no notice, and welcome 
 her without comment whenever she chose to come. 
 
 The state of his emotions did not put his hand 
 out for golf, at any rate, and he watched Rosabel,
 
 ROSABEL 183 
 
 who had chosen the players instead of the fishers, 
 without perceptible concern. Braithwaite was 
 playing too ; was that why she had come ? 
 
 Sometimes she walked with him, but the greater 
 part of the morning she wandered alone with 
 self-absorbed face, picking wild flowers, or resting 
 on the grass, while the sun kissed her round peachy 
 face to a still warmer glow. 
 
 Aylmer crossed a meadow to speak to her at last. 
 His manner was as usual, betraying no under- 
 current of any kind even to Mrs. Fairbourne's 
 keen-eyed jealousy. 
 
 ' Are you weaving daisy-chains, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' I left off doing that when I was ten years old,' 
 she said, looking up with the sun in her eyes. 
 
 ' Day-dreams, then, the privilege of maiden- 
 hood !' 
 
 She flushed. He noticed that her lashes and 
 her hair were golden in the brilliant bath of light. 
 
 ' Who is winning ?' she asked. 
 
 * Your friend Braithwaite is doing very well.' 
 
 ' He says he is good at all sports.' 
 
 ' Does he ?' Aylmer was bitter. ' Probably he 
 devotes his life to them.' 
 
 ' Is he beating you ?' 
 
 The question was so singularly pointed that he 
 flinched. But she looked innocent. 
 
 ' At present he seems to have the advantage, 
 certainly !'
 
 184 ROSABEL 
 
 ' I shouldn't play games unless I had a good 
 chance,' she said. ' I should hate being beaten.' 
 
 ' That's a spirit which leads to jealousy and 
 endless strife and discontent.' 
 
 ' I can't help it, I've got it,' said the girl, locking 
 her hands round her knee as she sat on the grass. 
 ' I am jealous, and I should like always to be first.' 
 
 She knew herself ; she had got it. The heaviness 
 of the lower part of her face, the determined set 
 of her lips, the straight brows on the broad forehead, 
 the fire of mingled defiance and resentment a word 
 could kindle in her eyes, the deliberation with which 
 she spoke when she spoke at all, were indelible signs 
 of character. 
 
 * In fact, you want your own way,' he said, 
 ' and are ready to hate everyone who won't let 
 you have it !' 
 
 ' Yes,' she admitted. 
 
 ' And your self-depreciation is a form of vanity. 
 If people won't think you first-rate, you turn sulky, 
 and pretend that you don't care what they think, 
 and would rather have nothing at all to do with 
 them ! You will give all or nothing, receive all or 
 nothing ; be everything, or let yourself go, and 
 refuse to make the best of the gifts you have.' 
 
 Rosabel stared at him ; her mouth opened. 
 
 ' Is that true ?' ' 
 
 ' Y yes. How did you know ?' 
 
 ' I am very wise !' said Aylmer.
 
 ROSABEL 185 
 
 ' Do you ever talk like this to mother ?' she in- 
 quired sapiently. 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Why don't you ?' 
 
 ' She wouldn't appreciate it.' 
 
 The girl plucked a blade of grass to nibble. 
 
 * You are the only woman I ever met,' he added, 
 ' who would admit her faults !' 
 
 ' And yet you said I was vain !' Rosabel was 
 deeply interested. 
 
 ' So you are, but you have counteracting qualities 
 rare in your sex. You are absolutely truthful^ 
 and you have a logical mind. With such a com- 
 bination of virtues one ought to be able to trust 
 you not to do anything foolish.' 
 
 ' How foolish ?' she queried. 
 
 ' Oh, any of the usual things done by girls who 
 are weak, and sentimental in the wrong way, and 
 
 silly. For instance, you wouldn't ' He checked 
 
 himself on the verge of saying * run away with a 
 groom,' and substituted : ' You wouldn't throw 
 your life away on a drunkard, a profligate, a thief. 
 And you wouldn't think it was amusing and smart to 
 start a vulgar flirtation with a fast man you did not 
 mean to marry or a man who already had a wife.' 
 
 Rosabel's cheeks flamed. Her lids drooped, 
 then lifted again. She regarded him steadily with 
 an effort.
 
 186 ROSABEL 
 
 * A girl of that sort doesn't attract envy or 
 admiration, whatever she may imagine,' he pursued 
 quietly. ' Women sneer and men smile unkindly 
 in both cases. I should never feel uneasy about 
 you.' 
 
 ' Of course you needn't,' she said. * I don't 
 matter to you.' 
 
 * That is a mistake. I should be sorry to see 
 anyone make a fool of you and sorrier still to see 
 you make a fool of yourself.' 
 
 ' On mother's account, of course !' 
 
 ' On your own account as well.' 
 
 Rosabel tugged at another grass-stalk, wrenching 
 it up by the root, and bent her head over it as she 
 picked it to pieces with shaky hands. 
 
 * Nobody will ever make a fool of me,' she said 
 at last. 
 
 ' I am sure not. Have I not said that I think 
 you are sensible and trustworthy ?' 
 ' You only pretend to think so.' 
 
 * What a sceptic you are !' 
 
 * Oh, I know,' she said darkly. 
 ' What do you know ?' 
 
 She would not answer or look up, and he was 
 called at that moment back to the game. 
 
 But as he left her Rosabel looked after him 
 under her thick lashes with a resentful air. 
 
 ' Of course mother set him on me,' she thought. 
 * And I didn't guess at first ! I let him talk.'
 
 ROSABEL 187 
 
 She hated herself for the stupidity of playing 
 into his hands. He would carry away the idea 
 that she had been impressed by his remarks, and 
 her mother would be pleased. Did he imagine 
 that she could not see through his affected spon- 
 taneity, and understand the motive which had 
 brought him strolling so carelessly to her side ? 
 
 The glow in her cheeks deepened as she mused. 
 Once more he had forced the armour of her reserve, 
 and got something, if ever so little, for his pains. 
 She had decided to keep him outside like the rest,, 
 to range him with her mother on the other side, 
 he who was her mother's friend, and again he had 
 taken her unawares, and she had been herself with 
 him. 
 
 It should never happen again. He should not 
 influence her. She had made up her mind last 
 night as she lay staring at the dark, and when once 
 Rosabel knew her own mind she could display a 
 strength and tenacity of purpose almost terrible 
 in a girl so young.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 NOTHING escaped Mrs. Fairbourne's eyes. She had 
 seen Aylmer's tendency to wander towards Rosabel 
 that morning, and their earnest if brief conversa- 
 tion, and made a determined effort to capture her 
 errant knight that afternoon when the question of 
 driving cropped up. 
 
 There was a landau, and a dog-cart, and the 
 governess-car belonging to the children, therefore 
 everybody could go who chose, and Mrs. Fairbourne 
 marked the dog-cart for herself and Aylmer. 
 
 * I haven't handled the ribbons for years,' she 
 said, ' but I think I am equal to that quiet bay of 
 yours, May, and I feel energetic this afternoon.' 
 
 ' Very well, dear,' said Mrs. Harrowby amiably. 
 ' Will you take somebody ?' 
 
 ' Mr. Aylmer, may I take you ?' 
 
 ' Delighted,' he said. It was impossible to refuse. 
 
 Gledhow chuckled. 
 
 * You are a brave man, by Jove !' 
 
 * What do you mean ?' she demanded a trifle 
 sharply. 
 
 1 88
 
 ROSABEL 189 
 
 ' To trust himself with you. That mare isn't so 
 quiet.' 
 
 ' How rude you are !' she said, relieved. 
 
 ' Would not a man risk death for the sake of 
 such fair company ?' asked Aylmer. * He is jealous, 
 dear lady, because you did not ask him. The 
 green-eyed monster is a disgusting reptile.' 
 
 ' Disgusting yourself,' said Gledhow. 
 
 ' Now, Bobby, Bobby, be polite,' said his wife. 
 
 ' Smack him, and send him to bed, Mrs. Gledhow,' 
 suggested Harrowby. 
 
 ' He shan't have any sugar in his tea,' she 
 promised. 
 
 Gledhow got out a handkerchief and howled. 
 
 Rosabel thought they were all very silly. She 
 despised childishness as much as horse-play. 
 Tragedy she could understand, not comedy. A 
 sense of humour is one of the things which, like a 
 complexion, cannot be acquired at adult age. 
 
 The dog-cart came round, and Aylmer assisted 
 Mrs. Fairbourne up, and mounted beside her. She 
 thought she had been very clever, but the ease 
 with which he had submitted was neither laziness 
 nor helplessness. He was quite aware of her state 
 of mind, and not a single manoeuvre on her part 
 escaped his notice. She had caught a tartar for 
 once. As she insisted upon a tete-a-tete, she should 
 pay for it. 
 
 The groom went with the landau ; they were
 
 I9 o ROSABEL 
 
 quite alone. When a country lane received them 
 in its green arms, Aylmer broke the silence. 
 
 ' Your reins are too slack.' 
 
 She tightened them. 
 
 'So?' 
 
 ' Better. That is one of the faults of the amateur 
 a commoner one than jagging the poor brute's 
 jaw. You want just to feel his mouth.' 
 
 ' My heart is tender,' she said. ' I like to allow 
 even a horse as much latitude as is good for him.' 
 
 ' But over-indulgence spoils the child.' 
 
 ' They say so.' 
 
 ' I have been talking to Rosabel,' he added, after 
 a pause. ' Have you noticed anything ?' 
 
 ' Noticed ?' she repeated. ' What do you mean ?' 
 
 * Girls want advice sometimes,' he said. 
 She touched up the bay with the whip. 
 
 * But they don't know it, and sometimes they 
 won't take it !' 
 
 ' She is very young.' 
 ' And as obstinate as a mule !' 
 ' I think you exaggerate,' he said coldly. * She 
 only wants telling.' 
 ' What ?' 
 
 * Not to be quite so pleasant to Braithwaite. 
 He is the wrong sort. He might misunderstand.' 
 
 * You, too !' she cried in a rage. 
 
 * Somebody else has mentioned it ?' 
 ' May Harrowby, last night.'
 
 ROSABEL 191 
 
 ' Then everybody has noticed already, and it is 
 not my fancy !' 
 
 ' She is a little animal, that is the fact of 
 the matter !' declared Mrs. Fairbourne furiously. 
 ' What else could she be ? It is in the blood.' 
 
 He turned white and red and white again. 
 
 ' Why did you make me send for her ?' she asked. 
 
 ' Why, on the contrary, did you ever send her 
 away ?' 
 
 ' You know I couldn't help it !' 
 
 ' You might have had her four years ago. You 
 didn't want her.' 
 
 ' I didn't. What then ?' 
 
 ' The girl has been shamefully neglected. In 
 spite of it she is wonderful.' 
 
 ' Oh, ah ! I thought you were finding fault with 
 her a moment ago !' 
 
 ' No ; I only suggested that youth and inexperience 
 was entitled to advice from experience and age.' 
 
 She flushed. Then she looked in his eyes, and 
 her anger was frightened away by his. A thrill 
 ran down her spine. She turned cold. 
 
 An awful silence fell. The ring of the hoofs on 
 the hard road seemed to her scarcely loud enough 
 to cover the beating of her heart. 
 
 She began to choke. When she dared to speak 
 at last her voice quivered with mortification and 
 nervousness and anguish at her enforced humility. 
 
 ' I didn't know you had such a temper !'
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 He remained silent. 
 
 * I am quite frightened !' 
 
 * Indeed !' He was sardonically polite. 
 
 * I shall cry in a moment,' she said. ' Oh, Alec, 
 we have been such good friends ! You can't wish 
 to quarrel with me ?' 
 
 * There is nothing I desire less.' 
 
 * Then don't cut your words with a razor and 
 call me by my name !' 
 
 * If you like Amy.' 
 
 ' Now you are your old dear self again !' 
 He denied it mentally. But she declined to 
 perceive his lukewarmness, deceived herself with 
 insincere jubilation, as she would deceive him, 
 shifted the reins to pat him on the arm with a 
 fluttering, caressing glove. 
 
 * It is annoying to be bullied when one is doing 
 one's best,' she added. - I have spoken to Rosabel. 
 Of course I shall look after her.' 
 
 * I am glad to hear it.' 
 
 ' So we can talk about something else. Your 
 twelve hundred pounds, for instance. I have a 
 cheque for you in my pocket.' 
 
 ' No hurry, you know.' 
 
 ' There is nothing in the world so pleasant as 
 to be able to discharge one's debts. I am quite 
 flourishing now, and ever so much obliged to you. 
 If I can be of use at any time, please please do say.' 
 
 ' Impossible,' he said.
 
 ROSABEL 193 
 
 ' Do you mean that you could never want money, 
 or that you would not tell me if you did ?' 
 
 ' Both.' 
 
 ' You wouldn't give me the pleasure of doing 
 anything for you ! It is always the way. Men 
 can do without women but women cannot do 
 without men.' 
 
 ' The proposition is not self-evident,' he said, 
 ' and your sex is not usually so humble.' 
 
 Her eyes filled without any effort. Despite the 
 fact, she knew very well what she was doing. Now 
 if ever was the time to reclaim him. 
 
 ' I see that you have not forgiven me yet,' she 
 said, ' and that whatever I say will be wrong. I 
 have dared to disparage Rosabel, who you have 
 taken under your protection. One would think 
 you were the jealous parent, and / the stranger.' 
 
 ' The disparity between a girl of nineteen and a 
 man of thirty-two is scarcely so great,' he replied 
 with annoyance. ' I do not think the idea would 
 suggest itself to everyone.' 
 
 ' Since when have you begun to interpret me 
 literally ?' She bit her lips ; the subject was a 
 sore one. ' Of course, I mean that you seem to 
 think it necessary to protect her against me ! As 
 though, in spite of my talk, I hadn't her interests 
 deeper at heart than you can have. You give me 
 credit for no feeling at all !' 
 
 13
 
 194 ROSABEL 
 
 ' You should not turn a corner so sharply,' he 
 said. ' The cart was on one wheel.' 
 
 ' There are moments,' she said, ' when I hate you 
 and this is one of them !' 
 
 She permitted a big tear to brim over and run 
 down without averting her face. He could not help 
 seeing it. 
 
 ' What have I done ?' he asked quietly, after an 
 interval. 
 
 ' You have hurt me.' 
 
 ' I am sorry.' 
 
 ' We were friends before you heard of her. Say 
 she shall not come between us, Alec !' 
 
 He felt warm. Now was his opportunity to 
 speak out and clear the sulphurous atmosphere. 
 But she was crying, and he still had some feeling 
 for her the sentiment, half pity, which lingers with 
 a good-natured man after his fancy for a woman 
 who likes him is passed, and his conscience was not 
 quite at ease. 
 
 While he was hesitating a motor overtook them, 
 and, passing rapidly, startled the mare, which 
 began to rear and back. There was a pretty deep 
 ditch behind them. 
 
 ' Give me the reins,' said Aylmer, ' and sit still.' 
 
 She had nerve enough to obey, but the dog-cart 
 overturned at the same moment. 
 
 Aylmer disentangled himself* and seized the 
 plunging mare by the head. One of the shafts
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 195 
 
 was broken. He unfastened the traces with some 
 difficulty, and tied the animal to a gate. Then he 
 turned to look for Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 
 She had pitched clear, and was sitting on a grassy 
 bank, very white, but self-controlled. 
 
 ' Are you hurt ?' he asked anxiously. 
 
 ' I don't think there are any bones broken,' she 
 replied, ' but I am bruised, and the teeth were nearly 
 shaken out of my head.' Then the woman who 
 loved him cried out : * There is blood upon your 
 cheek !' 
 
 * It is nothing at all,' he said. ' A mere scratch.' 
 
 ' You are hurt,' she persisted, ' and you won't 
 tell me !' 
 
 ' I assure you that it is nothing.' 
 
 * I hate the sight of blood,' she said, ' and and 
 it's been such a shock.' 
 
 To his horror she fainted on the roadside. 
 
 Here was a predicament ! He could not leave 
 her alone, and he could not procure assistance 
 otherwise. 
 
 His attitude of concern over her tumbled finery 
 was quite lover-like. He was a man, so he wondered 
 if she were dead, and if he would ever forgive him- 
 self, in that case, for his coldness and sarcasm and 
 harsh thoughts. It seemed that she really loved 
 him, poor thing ! 
 
 ' Amy,' he murmured, touching her, ' for God's 
 sake !' 
 
 132
 
 196 ROSABEL 
 
 Not even the flutter of an eyelid rewarded his 
 appeal until quite an intolerable period had 
 passed, then she opened her eyes, and sought his 
 hand. 
 
 * You might have been killed,' she murmured. 
 ' My heart stood still. Kiss me !' 
 
 She offered him her lips. 
 
 He stooped automatically, came within a hair's 
 breadth of self-betrayal. If he kissed her, Rosabel's 
 mother. . ... It was impossible ! There had been 
 nothing like that between them so far, and he could 
 not forego his chance with the girl. Why should 
 he? 
 
 Wheels approached. A pony-chaise was in sight. 
 For the second time that afternoon he was released 
 from a painful predicament. An elderly gentleman 
 in a clerical hat and tie occupied the pony-chaise, 
 and reined in abreast of them. 
 
 'Dear me!' he said, 'I am afraid you have had 
 an accident ! I hope sincerely that the lady is 
 unhurt ?' 
 
 ' No serious damage done,' replied Aylmer, with 
 the cheerfulness of the man who is grateful to 
 Providence. ' But I don't quite know what to 
 do. We are staying at The Hermitage, and Mrs. 
 Fairbourne is unable to walk ' 
 
 ' Allow me the pleasure of assisting you,' said the 
 stranger. ' I am the Rev. Horace Walker, Vicar 
 of St. Helens. I know The Hermitage very well.
 
 ROSABEL 197 
 
 If your friend Mrs. Fairbourne, I believe you said ? 
 will trust herself to my staid old pony ' the 
 worthy vicar beamed on them through glasses 
 * I shall be delighted to convey you both home.' 
 
 ' Thanks. I must remain with the horse and trapi 
 but if you would give Mrs. Fairbourne a lift I should 
 be grateful.' 
 
 ' Why not come with us ?' she asked. * You are 
 hurt more than I am. Mr. Walker would be kind 
 enough, perhaps, to allow you to tie that stupid 
 beast on behind. The dog-cart will be all right in 
 the ditch.' 
 
 ' I am afraid the mare's knees are cut, and she 
 must be led slowly,' replied Aylmer. ' I must 
 take a little care of poor Harrowby's property. 
 It would be better, I think, if you went on alone 
 with Mr. Walker.' 
 
 She was too shaky to argue. He helped her to 
 the pony-chaise. She leaned heavily on his arm. 
 
 ' Mr. Walker will take care of you, I am sure,' 
 he said. * You'll recover directly.' 
 
 * I I was so upset,' she murmured. Deep colour 
 suffused her face. 
 
 ' Of course,' murmured Aylmer soothingly. * But 
 you have a lot of pluck.' 
 
 Between the platitudes with which the good 
 vicar regaled her, she pondered these phrases. 
 
 ' But you have a lot of pluck. . . . You'll recover 
 directly.'
 
 198 ROSABEL 
 
 They were capable of two interpretations. Other 
 signs were as ambiguous. If he had been very 
 eager he might have risked the kiss in defiance 
 of the approaching pony-chaise ; on the other 
 hand, he hated to be ridiculous. 
 
 ' You'll recover directly.' 
 
 ' Shall I ?' she wondered. ' Shall I ?' 
 
 A chestnut-leaf, already sere and yellow, rustled 
 to her lap from an overhanging bough. She looked 
 at it with eyes startled by a horrible suggestion. 
 But the summer of her life was not over. She was 
 not getting old yet not yet. He could not have 
 been brutal enough to mean that time, age, which 
 dulls the senses, blunts the passions, soothes alike 
 craving and regret, was to be her cure ? He must 
 be fond of her. They had been together so much, 
 and he had always seemed pleased. 
 
 She tossed the leaf away. 
 
 The vicar saw her. 
 
 ' Ah, the autumn is coming,' he said.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 AYLMER descended to dinner with a patch of 
 sticking-plaster on his cheek which the women 
 found becoming. Mrs. Fairbourne did not put in 
 an appearance at all. It was understood that she 
 had been seriously shaken, and could not remember 
 what had happened between the upsetting of the 
 dog-cart and the arrival of the pony-chaise. The 
 vicar, who had been invited to remain, gave a thrill- 
 ing narrative of the scene of disaster and the 
 fainting lady by the roadside. Aylmer ate his 
 dinner solemnly, speechless. He was wondering 
 how she would sleep to-night, and how she would 
 meet him to-morrow with the memory of that 
 unrewarded abasement between them. He was 
 sorry for her. He would have liked to send her 
 word that she could put what had happened out 
 of her mind for ever, as he would, but even to allude 
 to it would aggravate the wound. 
 
 Was it a sort of pity for the mother which kept 
 him away from the daughter that evening ? Had 
 Amy been present, he would have shown her no 
 
 199
 
 200 ROSABEL 
 
 such consideration lest it should be misunderstood. 
 But her absence inspired him with the reluctance 
 a man might feel at making love to a new sweet- 
 heart over the grave of the old. If it had not been 
 that he would not leave Rosabel, he would have 
 arranged to be recalled to London in the morning. 
 Nevertheless, his concern on the lady's behalf did 
 not spoil his sleep, while she lay awake half the night. 
 
 Had she lost him irretrievably ? It looked like it. 
 But she was resolved that he should not have Rosabel. 
 
 ' Never never while I live/ she muttered 
 incoherently. * His mother-in-law ! It would be 
 the nightmare of a French farce !' 
 
 Where a vacuum had represented maternal love 
 in her breast the hatred of jealousy now reigned. 
 Rosabel was an incubus a parasite sucking her 
 youth from her, making her ridiculous. Every 
 time people looked at this great, fully-developed 
 girl they must remember that she was the daughter 
 of a woman who still wished to be attractive and 
 desired. She could not even take a year off her 
 age, while other women older than herself were 
 posing as her juniors. Thirty-seven ! Why, she 
 must seem middle-aged to a man of thirty-two! 
 His first recession might date from the day he 
 realized it. And he might even suspect that she 
 was more than she said. 
 
 ' But he shall not marry Rosabel,' she told herself 
 again and again. ' He shall not marry Rosabel.
 
 ROSABEL 201 
 
 Fortunately, she does not seem to be thinking about 
 him, although I fancied at one time. . . . This 
 Braithwaite seems to be absorbing her. What a 
 pity nothing can come of it !' 
 
 She held her breath for a moment. Could nothing 
 come of it ? Experience told her that it was un- 
 usual, after all, for a girl to fall in love with a 
 married man ; girls were always too anxious to get 
 married themselves. Probably it was Rosabel's 
 vanity alone which was touched, and she would 
 forget Braithwaite a fortnight after the party dis- 
 persed. But meanwhile she was foolish, and 
 Aylmer fastidious. Already he was on the watch, 
 and annoyed. If he became disgusted with the 
 natural woman he had lauded namely, Rosabel 
 there might be a reaction in favour of civilization 
 and herself ? At any rate, the situation was worthy 
 of judicious treatment. The role of careful mother 
 was hers of necessity, but could it not be played 
 in a manner to uphold her credit without injuring 
 her interests ? She reckoned upon opposition 
 spurring Rosabel's obstinacy to greater lengths, and 
 perhaps did not reckon in vain. 
 
 When she confronted Aylmer once more her 
 manner was admirable. 
 
 ' I am afraid I made a fool of myself yesterday,' 
 she said, with an air of candour which deceived the 
 audience at least. ' Did I burst into tears and 
 throw my arms round your neck ?'
 
 202 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 * Scarcely,' he said, smiling. ' You were a little 
 upset, that is all.' 
 
 ' My nerves used to be splendid.' she murmured. 
 ' I don't know what has happened to them 
 lately.' 
 
 During the ensuing week things seemed to drift 
 without violent shocks. Mrs. Fairbourne sought 
 Aylmer furtively but diligently, while Aylmer 
 sought Rosabel in vain. Braithwaite was the 
 only one who seemed to score. He monopolized 
 Rosabel without an effort of resistance on her 
 part. Indoors and out, in their walks and drives 
 and picnics, it was these two who were always 
 together. 
 
 ' One would think that you and Mr. Braithwaite 
 were engaged,' said Mrs. Fairbourne to her daughter 
 once. * What do you find to say to him ?' 
 
 ' Oh, we talk about all sorts of things,' said 
 Rosabel serenely. 
 
 ' But chiefly about him ?' 
 
 ' Yes, he likes to talk about himself.' 
 
 * You remember what I said to you in your bed- 
 room that night ?' 
 
 Rosabel nodded. 
 
 ' I might have supposed that you had forgotten 
 already. But I never expect you to obey me. I 
 have a good mind to send you home to-morrow.' 
 
 She had no intention of doing anything of the 
 sort. It was only the preliminary move in the
 
 ROSABEL 203 
 
 new scheme, which was to exhibit Rosabel at her 
 worst to Aylmer's watchful eyes. 
 
 In many subtle ways the woman played her hand 
 against the girl, each in ignorance of the other's 
 purpose. 
 
 It was the mother's reprimand, as often as not, 
 which drew attention to some favour shown to 
 Braithwaite by Rosabel. It was Mrs. Fairbourne's 
 visible annoyance which accentuated the existence 
 of this undesirable intimacy between her daughter 
 and this man. While seeming to restrain, she 
 sought, needlessly, as it happened, to urge. Each 
 pained smile, or angry glance, or maternal rebuke 
 she administered before others emphasized the 
 gravity of her displeasure and its cause, and called 
 down judgment on the defiant Rosabel. 
 
 Aylmer, watching the girl with jealous affection< 
 became more and more perplexed. He had really 
 given her credit for common-sense, high ideals, far 
 deeper feelings than any of these women were 
 capable of, although they were articulate, having 
 a thousand words for every borrowed idea and 
 sentiment, and she was half dumb, feeling the more 
 that her emotions were hidden in the grave which 
 her rage with life had dug. 
 
 The girl who had talked to him in the moonlight 
 by the sea, gasping out her soul and Braith- 
 waite ! 
 
 His self-control had never been shaken so vio-
 
 204 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 lently. That he kept it at all proved the utility 
 of habit. At times he came near to hating her 
 the insult it was to him, eligible, to be passed over 
 for this cad ! There must be an explanation. She 
 could not be so stupid, vulgar-minded. He could 
 not be deceived. 
 
 So he raged and questioned alternately, but never 
 gave her up or ceased to watch. She was possessed 
 by a temporary infatuation which would pass. He 
 would draw her to him still. These were the decisions 
 of hopeful moments. In despondency anger was his 
 chief passion, and he felt that she had already raised 
 a barrier between them which could not be thrown 
 down. Even if she were her old self again next 
 week, would his pride be able to forget the tem- 
 porary defeat which had humbled him ? He pon- 
 dered the question a whole morning, and after all 
 it was a chance glance from the girl's eyes which 
 answered it. She had a puppy in her arms, and 
 seemed spontaneous at the moment, as though the 
 restraint she had placed upon herself were forgotten 
 in a bubbling gush of youth. 
 
 * Isn't he a dear !' 
 
 * You love animals ?' he asked. 
 
 * Yes,' she said. ' If they once love you, they 
 love you always. They don't have whims and 
 moods, as people do.' 
 
 ' As you do, for instance, Rosabel !' 
 ' I am always the same, too,' she said.
 
 ROSABEL 205 
 
 ' I deny that !' 
 
 * I care for people who care for me.' 
 
 " Care " is a word of wide significance. There 
 are twenty different ways of caring, and not all of 
 them are good.' 
 
 ' I know that.' She held the puppy's soft warm 
 coat against her cheek. ' One may hate, for instance. 
 That's " caring." ' 
 
 ' And love foolishly.' 
 
 Rosabel was silent. 
 
 ' Or sinfully,' he added. 
 
 She gave him a curious longing look. Her lips 
 opened, but after all she did not speak. 
 
 It was that look which turned the scale in her 
 favour once more, and told him that he would 
 always want her, and be ready to forgive and forgive 
 again. 
 
 Nevertheless, that very evening they nearly 
 quarrelled. She would go out of doors after dinner 
 with Braithwaite, although her mother had bidden 
 her remain in the house, and Aylmer came upon 
 them suddenly in the garden. He could have 
 sworn that Braithwaite's arm was round her waist 
 before they saw him. It was intolerable. He 
 could scarcely command his voice as he addressed 
 her. 
 
 * Your mother sent me to find you, Rosabel.' 
 
 * What does she want ?' asked the girl indiffer- 
 ently.
 
 206 ROSABEL 
 
 ' You are to go in at once.' His own anger spoke 
 in the imperious command. 
 
 ' But it is pleasant out here,' she said. ' I don't 
 care to go in.' 
 
 * Am I to tell her that you will not come ?' 
 Braithwaite intervened with characteristic cool- 
 ness. 
 
 * Oh, say you couldn't find us !' 
 
 * Thank you ; I was speaking to Miss Fair- 
 bourne.' 
 
 * Rosabel doesn't mind me answering for her, do 
 you, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' No,' said the girl. It was dark, and Aylmer 
 could only see a pale blur representing the face 
 which she turned towards him. ' I am not coming 
 yet,' she added deliberately. * It isn't bedtime, and 
 it's hot in the house.' 
 
 He could find nothing more to say, and they were 
 waiting for him to go. 
 
 A boyish impulse to catch Braithwaite by the 
 throat twitched his fingers. On reflection maturer 
 counsel prevailed, and he would have liked to shake 
 Rosabel. Oh, how he would have liked it ! Even 
 to box her ears. He said, ' Minx !' under his breath 
 as he strolled away, and then his ears, straining 
 despite himself, caught a low-spoken phrase from 
 the girl, followed by a laugh from the man. 
 
 ' Of course, mother sent him.' 
 
 * You'll get into a row, won't you ?' r ~
 
 ROSABEL 207 
 
 * I don't care.' 
 
 The voices became inaudible to Aylmer. Why 
 had he listened ? He despised his own paltriness, 
 and would have given a year of his life to hear 
 more. 
 
 ' In the next stage of fatuity I shall be peeping 
 through keyholes and listening at doors!' he thought. 
 ' One grows demoralized.' 
 
 He meant to convey Rosabel's defiance to her 
 mother verbatim, but softened it mechanically 
 when he reached the house. 
 
 ' She will be in presently.' 
 
 ' I said " at once !" ' 
 
 * Mr. Braithwaite has forgotten his game of 
 bridge,' murmured Mrs. Harrowby in her sweet, 
 low, languid, affected voice. * He doesn't seem to 
 care as much about it as he used to do.' 
 
 She said one thing, and called attention to 
 another. Everybody was silent after she had 
 spoken, thinking, and glances passed between the 
 Gledhows. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne rose in apparent vexation. 
 
 ' Rosabel will be worn out,' she said. ' She has 
 been on her feet all day. I must really insist upon 
 her coming in at once. Why will girls always over- 
 do everything ?' 
 
 ' Shall I help you to find her ?' asked Aylmer. 
 
 ' Yes, do.' 
 
 She twisted a scarf over her bare shoulders as she
 
 208 ROSABEL 
 
 emerged from the house, and raised her face to look 
 at the stars. 
 
 ' So fine a night,' she said ' so peaceful, and yet 
 I am all uncharitableness ! Rosabel is really too 
 bad. The little hussy ! what does she mean by it ?* 
 
 ' That is what I want to know,' said the man 
 between his teeth. 
 
 She laughed softly, allowing her eyes to sink from 
 the dark, freckled sky to his face. 
 
 ' So you are getting angry, too ! 
 
 * Not seriously superficially. The whole thing's 
 too trivial. I confess I can't understand. . . . What 
 girl in her senses could could ' 
 
 ' Why not ?' she asked slightingly. ' She's a 
 little animal, and naturally responds to the male 
 animal, that is all. I told you that you took her 
 too seriously.' 
 
 ' I think I have heard you say that before, or 
 something like it,' he said in a low tone. ' It is 
 harsh.' 
 
 ' I have made a study of Rosabel as well as you 
 have, and women always find each other out.' 
 
 * I believe she understands you. 1 
 
 ' Does she ?' He knew she glanced at him, but 
 was baffled by the night. ' Why do you think so ?' 
 
 ' She has said things.' 
 
 ' Tell me,' she said inquisitively. 
 
 ' No ! We were talking about Rosabel. What 
 are you going to say to her ?'
 
 ROSABEL 209 
 
 * Can you not leave that to me ? A hint is no 
 use. One must use a sledge-hammer with Rosabel. 
 Why didn't she obey me ?' 
 
 He hung back with an impulse of cowardice when 
 they found the girl and Braithwaite. But Rosabel 
 deserved a scolding. He would not defend her 
 to-night. 
 
 ' I sent for you, Rosabel,' said her mother. ' Why 
 did you not come at once instead of giving me the 
 trouble of fetching you ?' 
 
 * I told Mr. Aylmer that I didn't wish to 
 come.' 
 
 ' Did you ? Most impertinent ! Don't keep me 
 waiting, please.' 
 
 ' Why do you want me, mother ?' 
 
 * I decline to be questioned,' said Mrs. Fairbourne 
 sharply. * I sent for you ; that is enough.' 
 
 * Your little girl isn't such a very little girl, you 
 know, Mrs. Fairbourne,' said Braithwaite, ' and we 
 are feeling so happy outside.' 
 
 ' I regret to disturb your felicity,' she retorted 
 sarcastically. * Come, Rosabel.' 
 
 The girl turned with open reluctance to accom- 
 pany her mother. Braithwaite lingered to light a 
 cigarette, and Aylmer, not choosing to wait for him, 
 followed the women to the house. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne's voice, low and bitter, appeared 
 to take no heed of him. In reality, her words were 
 intended more for his ears than for Rosabel's. 
 
 14
 
 210 ROSABEL 
 
 ' You don't know how to behave,' she said. * If 
 you must be a barmaid, you shall go back to the 
 Angler's Inn. I won't have you disgracing yourself 
 and me before my friends. Everybody is getting 
 disgusted with you.' 
 
 Rosabel made no reply. 
 
 ' I wish to God that you'd answer when I 
 speak to you !' cried her mother, in a gust of 
 genuine passion. ' Your behaviour this evening has 
 been insufferable insufferable ! Are you going to 
 apologize ?' 
 
 ' No,' said Rosabel bluntly. 
 
 ' Rosabel, Rosabel !' murmured Aylmer. 
 
 They had reached the light which streamed out of 
 the house, and paused to look at each other before 
 entering. The girl met him with red face, and eyes 
 strangely bright and fierce. 
 
 ' Don't go away for a moment, Mrs. Fairbourne,' 
 he begged. ' This is most regrettable. Rosabel, I 
 am sure you are sorry on second thoughts.' 
 
 ' I'm not !' declared the girl, with a hysterical 
 gulp, which was unlike her ; and she ran into the 
 house and upstairs. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne laughed faintly. She was re- 
 covering herself, and might have been a little 
 pleased at his futile interference. 
 
 ' You see ! She has as little respect for you as 
 for me, my friend !' 
 
 * Why should she have any ?' he asked, with a
 
 ROSABEL 211 
 
 great effort of justice. ' I have no authority over 
 her, after all.' 
 
 ' But I am her mother.' 
 
 ' Ah, you reminded her of it so late,' he said softly. 
 * You said yourself that the proper feeling between 
 you could not be born full-grown. Have patience. 
 I am sure she has a heart. If you can convince her 
 that you love her, she will worship the ground under 
 your feet.' 
 
 She wished to answer that she neither desired 
 Rosabel's affection nor had any to offer as a bait, 
 but felt that it would be unwise to say so. 
 
 Meanwhile, Rosabel locked her bedroom door 
 after her as though she were pursued, and sank 
 panting on the edge of her bed. 
 
 ' I'm disgracing her before her friends. Every- 
 body is getting disgusted with me !' repeated the 
 girl aloud. ' And she is frightened frightened !' 
 
 A feverish exultation animated her. She did 
 not like Maurice Braithwaite any better to-day 
 than she had ever liked him. But her mother was 
 becoming uneasy. Already there was a foretaste 
 of revenge in her mouth revenge sweeter than 
 sweets had ever been to the child whose rich nature 
 had been allowed to run wild. Not that she was 
 happyi for real happiness can only exist with peace 
 of mind. She was triumphant, that was all. Her 
 head swam in the vertigo of moral intoxication. 
 
 She thought of her mother, and then of Aylmerj 
 
 14 2
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 and again of her mother. The man's eyes haunted 
 her with a reproach which brought a little pain to 
 her heart. 
 
 But she was glad she had defied him. He would 
 no longer pester her with advances she did not 
 choose to welcome, patronize her for her mother's 
 sake. No true friendship could ever exist between 
 them. He belonged to the other side. 
 
 At the moment she was glad that she had nobody. 
 She derived a fierce joy from the fact that she was 
 alone alone, quite alone, that there was not a soul 
 who had any right to her loyalty and affection. Like 
 an eaglet perched on a mountain crag, she looked 
 down on humanity, and hated it. She would not 
 have given up her isolation in this mood ; there was 
 something tragic in it, which appealed to her uncon- 
 scious craving for romance. It was something, after 
 all, to be quite different from other girls. It was 
 something to feel that her life was in her own hands 
 to be disposed of as she chose. It was picturesque 
 and splendid, if sad, to be situated as she was 
 towards her mother and her mother's class. She 
 had been wronged, but she was going to be re- 
 venged. 
 
 Her eyes darkened, and she sat brooding, brood- 
 ing, and staring dimly at the light.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THERE was a willow by the stream, weeping for the 
 sins and sorrows of men. Beside the willow was a 
 grassy bank fringed with rushes, which in their turn 
 were bordered by water-lilies. Sometimes a king- 
 fisher was to be seen skimming the water in chase 
 of a fly, or perching on a bough of the aspen oppo- 
 site. The picturesqueness was almost oppressive, 
 in fact. 
 
 Rosabel had not reached that stage of artistic 
 culture which finds a ' subject ' deplorable. She 
 thought the neighbourhood of the willow lovely, 
 and often paid it a visit. Sometimes Braithwaite 
 came, too. He joined her there this afternoon. 
 
 ' I couldn't get away sooner,' he explained. 
 ' Harrowby would make me look at that confounded 
 sick terrier of his.' 
 
 ' It doesn't matter,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' Our last day at The Hermitage, Rosabel !' He 
 sat down beside her, and took her hand as a matter 
 of course. ' You will be sorry to go ?' he asked. 
 
 ' Not particularly.' 
 
 213
 
 214 ROSABEL 
 
 * How disconcerting you are ! Do say you'll be 
 sorry ! You must like me.' 
 
 She did not reply. It seemed as though she 
 could not tell a lie to further any scheme, as though 
 her revenge must fall to the ground even at this 
 hour if it depended upon lies. 
 
 ' I can't bear to think of parting, Rosabel.' 
 
 He put his arm round her. She made no resist- 
 ance ; it was not the first time. 
 
 ' When shall I see you again ?' 
 
 ' I don't know,' murmured the girl, ' if you 
 don't.' 
 
 ' I wish you hadn't gone to live with your mother. 
 I wish you were still at the Angler's Inn.' 
 
 ' Why ? What difference would it make to 
 you ?' 
 
 ' Lots. You are a young lady now. What a 
 damned fool I was !' He checked himself. ' I'm 
 awfully fond of you,' he said. ' No nonsense, you 
 know !' 
 
 ; Rosabel was watching a moorhen among the 
 reeds. 
 
 * I ought to have taken more trouble. You 
 must have wanted to get away from it. You had 
 nothing then, you were nothing.' 
 
 ' I am just the same only Rosabel,' she said with 
 peculiar emphasis. 
 
 He did not heed ; his own thoughts were clamour- 
 ing too loud.
 
 ROSABEL 215 
 
 c What a good time we might have had ! And 
 you are not happy with your mother. You don't 
 care for her, and she doesn't care for you. We 
 might have had a jolly trip to Paris.' 
 
 ' I'd like to go to Paris,' said Rosabel. 
 
 He looked at her, flushing. 
 
 ' You could still go if you had the pluck,' he 
 said in a low tone. 
 
 ' Could I ?' 
 
 ' You know how delighted I should be to take 
 you.' 
 
 His bluntness was as primitive as his love. She 
 would never be able to reproach him with duplicity* 
 at any rate. 
 
 There was a long pause. The man's hot eyes 
 dwelt on the girl's face with a satyr-like eagerness. 
 The tide of his own passion caught him^ swept him 
 off his feet. He kissed her, whispered urgently in 
 her car. What had seemed impossible five minutes 
 ago now appeared as easy as it was desirable. He 
 had meant to ask her when he begged her to meet 
 him by the stream, but only because he would not 
 throw a chance away. He had not really believed 
 that she would dare, that she cared enough. There 
 was always a curious coldness about her, though 
 she was never offended in these days at anything 
 he said. And he had said a good deal, short of this 
 definite proposal. 
 
 He did not understand her in the least. He
 
 216 ROSABEL 
 
 thought it was maidenly reluctance, fear of the 
 plunge struggling with inclination, which made her 
 hesitate, that she was only waiting for persuasion. 
 As though anything he could say or do weighed with 
 her in the least ! 
 
 * I would give you everything you wanted,' he 
 said. ' You should have the best time with me 
 that a girl could have. You've never really en- 
 joyed yourself. I'd show you life real life !' 
 
 It was probable that he would. 
 
 ' I am rich,' he added, ' and you will have two 
 thousand a year when your mother dies, whether 
 she likes it or not. You can't come to grief, and 
 you can't throw me over now. You've let things 
 go too far. It isn't as though you were a school- 
 girl, and didn't know. You can't be so innocent. 
 You must have seen and heard something at the 
 Angler's Inn.' 
 
 ' I'd like to go to Paris,' she repeated, musing, 
 ' but I'd like to come back to London afterwards. 
 Would you bring me back to London ?' 
 
 ' Yes. You'd meet people ; but I don't care if 
 you don't.' 
 
 * Should I have a carriage, so that I could drive 
 in the Park sometimes ?' . 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 ' Dictating your terms, are you ?' 
 
 ' You could afford it ?' she asked almost anxi- 
 ously.
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 217 
 
 ' You should have a carriage. Would you really 
 drive in the Park ?' 
 
 ' Of course. What would be the use of having it 
 if it weren't seen ? What about your wife ?' she 
 added. 
 
 ' Oh, we've had enough of each other,' he said 
 brutally. * She can hang herself.' 
 
 ' You'd be saying that to me some day.' 
 
 ' No, I shouldn't. Adele would divorce me 
 these things are easily managed in the States and 
 I'd marry you.' 
 
 ' You wouldn't,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' I would ! Good Lord, I'd marry you to-morrow ! 
 I'm not a bad fellow ; don't be afraid.' 
 
 ' To-morrow, perhaps ; but afterwards ? I know.' 
 She looked at him darkly. ' You'd break my heart 
 if I loved you ; but I don't, so it doesn't matter.' 
 
 * What ! Are you fooling me, after all ?' 
 
 ' I'll go away with you, if you like,' said Rosabel. 
 ' But I'm not going to tell lies about it.' 
 
 He was astounded. 
 
 ' You don't love me ?' 
 
 ' No,' she said, breaking off a twig of willow. 4 It 
 doesn't matter, does it ?' 
 
 ' By God !' he said ; ' you've got courage ! I 
 never heard anything like this. If you don't care 
 for me, why on earth do you want to go away ?' 
 
 * Because I hate my mother,' she said. ' You've 
 got a right to know, as you're going to pay for
 
 218 ROSABEL 
 
 everything. It doesn't make any difference to 
 you ?' 
 
 He became gloomy, a trifle reproachful. 
 
 ' I am disappointed. You've got no sentimentj 
 Rosabel.' 
 
 * It isn't,' she said, ' as though you were going to 
 marry me.' 
 
 He threw himself back on the grass suddenly and 
 laughed. Her candour removed the slight restraint 
 which his ' delicacy ' had imposed. He could talk 
 to her as plainly now as she talked to him. Perhaps 
 it was more comfortable. 
 
 ' You little devil !' he said. ' So that is what 
 you have had in your head ! I've wondered some- 
 times. I always knew you were different from 
 other girls. I'll take you ; don't be uneasy. And 
 I'll treat you fairly from first to last. You are 
 being straight with me, and I'll be straight with 
 you.' 
 
 * That's settled^ then,' said Rosabel, almost with 
 relief. ' When shall we go ?' 
 
 ' To-morrow,' he replied, sitting up. 
 
 ' To-morrow !' 
 
 ' Yes. Unless you would rather wait ?' 
 
 ' It doesn't matter,' said the girl. 
 
 Her voice was steady, but her cheeks were flush ed 
 and she was peeling her twig of willow with rapid 
 nervous fingers which could not keep still. 
 
 ' I don't see the use of wasting time.' He was
 
 ROSABEL 219 
 
 emphatic on that point. ' And that garden-party 
 they are going to will give us a good opportunity. 
 I shall receive a telegram in the morning recalling 
 me to London on business. You will have a head- 
 ache when the others go to the garden-party, and 
 stay at home. As soon as the coast is clear, 
 you can slip off and catch the 4.5 to London. 
 Understand ?' 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 ' I'll meet you at King's Cross, and take you to 
 my chambers I've had a set of rooms in Piccadilly 
 since Adele cleared out and we'll dine early and 
 get away by the Continental train before you are 
 even missed.' 
 
 ' I don't see how I could take my clothes with 
 me,' she said. 
 
 ' Don't try ; I'll get you everything you want.' 
 He squeezed her arm. ' Paris is a hive ; your 
 mother will never find you. And I shall be there. 
 Nobody shall bully you.' 
 
 ' I am not afraid,' replied Rosabel. 
 
 Braithwaite laughed. The girl's fingers were still 
 plucking at the willow. 
 
 It seemed to her that her purpose must be written 
 on her face as it was engrained upon her heart, and 
 she went indoors reluctantly. Nobody appeared to 
 remark anything amiss with her, however, and as 
 Braithwaite was always gay his exaggerated high 
 spirits were not noticeable.
 
 220 ROSABEL 
 
 Only Aylmer came up to her after dinner, and 
 looked at her with the keen eyes of affection. 
 
 ' What are you meditating so deeply, fair maid ? 
 " A deed without a name," like the witches in 
 "Macbeth"?' 
 
 She raised wide startled eyes to the man's. 
 
 ' Will you come for a stroll with me ?' he added. 
 
 ' Mother is over there,' she answered brusquely. 
 ' Ask her /' 
 
 * I ask you.'' 
 
 Rosabel hesitated. She was pulled two ways. 
 She liked to be with him better than with anybody 
 in the world. But what was the use of encouraging 
 herself to care for him ? Besides, to-night she was 
 afraid. She did not wish to talk to anyone. 
 
 ' No. I am waiting for Mr. Braithwaite,' she 
 replied. 
 
 Aylmer flushed like a boy. He was really show- 
 ing a phenomenal patience, and meeting with no 
 reward. 
 
 If he had given in to pride, he would have turned 
 on his heel and left her at once ; but she was even 
 dearer to him than his pride. And perhaps his 
 obstinacy he was liberally endowed with it- 
 would not cede the palm to this girl of nineteen. 
 He meant to win her yet. So he kept his temper 
 with remarkable self-control, and continued to 
 smile quite naturally and good-temperedly. 
 
 ' You are really very^rude, Rosabel. But you
 
 ROSABEL 221 
 
 can't offend me, you can't shake me off. You are 
 not going to wait for Braithwaite !' 
 ' Yes, I am.' 
 
 ' When he returns you will be gone. Come along !' 
 He took her arm, half laughing, half earnest, and 
 she yielded, although reluctantly. ' It is time you 
 atoned for your bad behaviour. Do you realize 
 that you have spoilt my visit ?' 
 
 ' I suppose mother told you to say that !' re- 
 torted Rosabel, with scorn. 
 
 ' Pardon me,' he said, * I sometimes venture upon 
 an original remark.' 
 
 ' I know what everybody thinks !' 
 * I am afraid you are flattering yourself, my dear 
 child,' he said a little bitterly. 
 
 ' And I don't care,' persisted Rosabel. 
 ' Don't care lived to be hanged.' 
 The girl glanced at him resentfully. She sus- 
 pected that he was making fun of her, and she was 
 less inclined to put up with that to-night than ever. 
 To be laughed at, when she was on the eve of the 
 tragedy of her life ! She comforted herself, like a 
 child, with the prospect of shocking him. Her 
 flight would be almost as great a blow to him as to 
 her mother. Perhaps he would no longer desire to 
 be connected with the family. What an addition 
 to her revenge that would be ! 
 
 She was silent for so long that he spoke again, 
 softly.
 
 222 ROSABEL 
 
 k Are you very angry with me, Rosabel ?' 
 To her horror a sudden inclination to cry seized 
 her. She had to blink down the tears, and swallow 
 lump after lump in her throat. She was enraged 
 with herself for such weakness. Why should she 
 mind what he said and how he said it ? 
 
 * Let me alone,' she said in a strangled voice. 
 
 * Surely I haven't hurt your feelings ?' 
 ' No, you couldn't,' she said. 
 
 He withdrew the caressing hand quickly. 
 
 ' It's only Braithwaite who can annoy and please 
 you, eh ?' 
 
 ' Yes !' gasped Rosabel. 
 
 ' I have no patience with you,' he said, with anger 
 sudden and deep. 'Go in ! Go away ! I want 
 nothing more to do with you.' 
 
 He had never felt readier to despair. 
 
 ' Another girl would attempt to conceal her 
 attachment to Braithwaite, at any rate would deny 
 it,' he thought. ' She thrusts it under one's very 
 eyes as though it were something to be proud of, or 
 she had no sense of shame. Is Amy right, after all ? 
 Is she only an animal ?'
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 WHERE is Braithwaite ?' asked Harrowby. 
 
 It was the next morning, and the party had con- 
 gregated in the comfortable sitting-hall as usual to 
 discuss the plans of the day. 
 
 ' Packing,' said his wife. ' Don't you know ? 
 He has had a wire recalling him to London at 
 once.' 
 
 Aylmer experienced a thrill of pleasure. He 
 had the cheerful prospect before him of a whole 
 day unshadowed by Braithwaite. And a day 
 with a garden-party in it, which would offer many 
 agreeable opportunities of making hay while the 
 sun shone. If Rosabel would only be reason- 
 able 
 
 He glanced at her instinctively. She was on 
 the window-seat, and the outline of her cheek was 
 alone visible. Her pose was pensive. Was she re- 
 gretting this beast's departure ? 
 
 He wanted badly to talk to her and make up their 
 little quarrel of last night, but Mrs. Fairbourne in- 
 sisted upon his accompanying her to the golf ground. 
 
 223
 
 224 ROSABEL 
 
 He wished Rosabel would come with them. He 
 dreaded an affectionate parting between her and 
 Braithwaite. 
 
 Rosabel remained on the window-seat, however. 
 She knew that Braithwaite would look there for her 
 presently. She stared at the smooth velvet lawn, 
 the trees waving gently, the thrush busily at work 
 among the flower-beds. 
 
 Her suppressed excitement of yesterday had sub- 
 sided. She was apathetic now, as she had been on 
 her journey to London a few weeks ago. No doubt 
 the strain would arise by-and-by with the necessity 
 for action. 
 
 She was destroying her own life, but she did not 
 care, urged onward by a childish folly which was 
 assisted, unfortunately, by a more than childish 
 strength of will. She thought that the joy of 
 revenge would be a worthy reward. Young for 
 her years in some ways, she had acquired the habit 
 of dreaming and brooding, through being overmuch 
 alone, till she saw herself, not as a reckless girl of 
 passionate nature, cherishing a grudge which made 
 her far more miserable than it was likely to make 
 anybody else, but as a tragic figure, the heroine of 
 a thrilling drama of life. 
 
 A man's footsteps descended the stairs, halted 
 half-way, then quickened. Braithwaite strode 
 eagerly across the hall to her side. 
 
 ' Rosabel !'
 
 ROSABEL 225 
 
 His voice was low, quick, impassioned. She 
 looked up at the flushed handsome face. 
 
 ' You remember everything ?' 
 
 She nodded. There was a pause. 
 
 ' You won't go back ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' I shall be waiting for you so eagerly, my 
 darling !' 
 
 He kissed her. 
 
 ' There is somebody coming,' she said furtively, 
 and drew her hand away. 
 
 They both looked out of the window in silence 
 while the butler tidied the litter of newspapers and 
 magazines on the table. The hungry thrush was 
 still poking in and out of the flower-beds. The 
 butler went away. 
 
 * I wish I could take you with me now,' said 
 Braithwaite. 
 
 ' You think that I won't come ?' 
 
 ' Of course I trust you ! It is only that I am in 
 terror of something unforeseen turning up.' 
 
 Rosabel's dark eyes burned with the fire which 
 was scorching her soul. 
 
 ' Nothing could prevent my coming,' she said. 
 
 * You are a little brick !' 
 
 ' Hadn't you better go ?' she suggested. ' You'll 
 lose your train.' 
 
 He was reluctant to leave her; she was quite 
 willing to be rid of him. 
 
 15
 
 226 ROSABEL 
 
 She found suddenly that he was regarding her 
 with a curious smile. 
 
 * I was thinking about your mother. She's a 
 funny sort of mother, isn't she ? Never mind, you 
 need never see her again. She may be Aylmer's 
 money, but she wouldn't be mine ! Come and see 
 me off.' 
 
 She rose and accompanied him obediently. 
 The dog-cart, with his bag in it, was already at 
 the front-door. 
 
 * Good-bye,' he whispered, * till this afternoon.' 
 ' Till this afternoon,' she repeated. 
 
 He waved his hand to her, and she went to wander 
 alone in the garden. It was quite quiet. Everyone 
 had gone to the golf ground. She could think as 
 much as she liked undisturbed. 
 
 Once more she went over her plans, so that no 
 unconsidered detail should take her by surprise. 
 There was her purse with ten pounds in it to be 
 guarded carefully. She might want it some day 
 if Braithwaite deserted her, or she wished to leave 
 him. She did not expect him to be faithful ; all 
 his protestations did not convince her. It did not 
 matter ; she could always earn her own living while 
 she was young : she was used to work ; and when she 
 was old she would have Miss Dudgeon's money. 
 
 Time lagged with her this morning. There were 
 moments of impatience when it seemed that it 
 would never pass. She was all anxiety to take the
 
 ROSABEL 227 
 
 final step and realize that no turning back was 
 possible. She dwelt with passionate pleasure on 
 the scene which would take place when her absence 
 became known, of her mother's curiosity changing 
 to anxiety and suspicion. All the people who 
 came to Great Cumberland Place would be talking 
 about her flight with Maurice Braithwaite. She 
 knew how glad they were of a piece of scandal , 
 and how exceptionally bitter and smart her mother 
 was wont to be over the peccadilloes of her 
 friends. In future she would not enjoy gossip so 
 much ; a stone would have broken one of the 
 windows of her own glass house, and it would 
 occupy all her time to keep the wind out and patch 
 the hole ! 
 
 And Alec Aylmer, what would he say ? Of 
 course, he would be angry with her ; but what did 
 that matter ? In all probability she would never 
 see him again. It was hard to realize that. She 
 stared at him over lunch when no one was observing 
 her. For some reason the memory of that night at 
 Folkestone was fresher to-day than any she shared 
 with him. But she had resolved never, never to 
 think about him if she could help it, never to torture 
 herself with visions of what might have been. He 
 was her mother's property, and it was one of Rosa - 
 bel's rules of life never to care for anyone who did 
 not care for her. She wanted no charity kindness 
 from woman or man. 
 
 15-2
 
 228 ROSABEL 
 
 ' What have you been doing this morning ?' he 
 asked her suddenly. 
 ' Nothing.' 
 ' You should have come with us.' 
 
 * I liked it better in the garden. I think golf's a 
 stupid game.' 
 
 ' You don't care for games, do you, Rosabel ? 
 You are too serious. When you are thirty you will 
 have learnt to be young.' 
 
 * No, when she is forty,' corrected Gledhow. ' It 
 is not till a woman is forty that she is really frolic- 
 some.' 
 
 * On the principle of over-eating one's self to-day 
 in case there may be nothing to eat to-morrow ?' 
 suggested Harrowby. * I have known 
 
 ' Young people are so morbid nowadays,' inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Fairbourne. 
 
 ' If you had said " young women," I should 
 agree with you. Women are more morbid than 
 men.' 
 
 ' Of course they are,' she assented promptly. ' A 
 man can work off superfluous emotions in dissipa- 
 tion, a woman can only stay at home and think. A 
 generation ago she had hysterics ; now she writes 
 books about her soul, and discusses free love with 
 her male friends. It is the same complaint express- 
 ing itself in another form.' 
 
 Mrs. Harrowby was looking at Rosabel with a, 
 pensive air.
 
 ROSABEL 229 
 
 ' Would Rosabel have been hysterical a genera- 
 tion ago ?' she inquired. 
 
 ' No,' said Mrs. Fairbourne. ' Her appetite is too 
 good !' 
 
 ' But I have seen lots of girls who eat voraciously < 
 and are never satisfied,' said Mrs. Gledhow, speak- 
 ing for the first time. 
 
 She had a way of involving a sentence so that it 
 was impossible to guess whether it meant a great 
 deal or nothing at all. 
 
 There was a pause. Mrs. Harrowby broke fresh 
 ground. 
 
 ' How are we going this afternoon ?' she in- 
 quired. 
 
 * Suppose you four ladies took the landau, and 
 we men walked ?' suggested her husband. ' There 
 is a pleasant short-cut through wood and meadow.' 
 
 The others agreed, and by-and-by the women 
 went up to dress. 
 
 Rosabel followed her mother. 
 
 * I don't care about going,' said the girl, in her 
 brusque way. 
 
 * What is the matter ?' 
 
 ' I don't care about it,' repeated Rosabel. 
 
 * Does your head ache ?' 
 'No.' " 
 
 ' Your heart, perhaps !' Mrs. Fairbourne gave 
 an unpleasant little laugh. She thought it was 
 Maurice Braithwaite's departure which had turned
 
 230 ROSABEL 
 
 Rosabel ' off.' ' You can do as you like,' she added, 
 shrugging her shoulders. ' But what excuse am I 
 to make for you ? Mrs. Harrowby will consider it 
 very rude.' 
 
 * I don't know,' said Rosabel. ' I supposed you 
 would be able to think of something.' 
 
 * Oh, make your own excuses ! If I say anything, 
 I shall say that something has put you out of 
 temper, and leave people to find a reason for them- 
 selves. I am disgusted with you. This is the last 
 time you will pay a visit with me.' 
 
 Rosabel's eyes gleamed. If her mother had 
 known how literally her threat might be fulfilled ! 
 
 She was so smart and pretty in her elegant summer 
 toilet. Rosabel noted the shape of her face, still 
 so youthful, the hair which was perhaps a little 
 * touched,' her beautiful eyes, and long white 
 hands. 
 
 * I am glad we are leaving to-morrow,' continued 
 Mrs. Fairbourne. ' You have made me most un- 
 comfortable the whole time we have been here, 
 Rosabel. The Harrowbys must think you a per- 
 fect savage, and have a little better opinion of me 
 for bringing you. I asked to bring you. My own 
 invitation was a long-standing one, given before my 
 friends had heard of you. I wish heartily that they 
 had never heard of you at all !' 
 
 * I don't,' said Rosabel. ' I hope they all know 
 about me.'
 
 ROSABEL 231 
 
 * I don't follow your mood,' said her mother. 
 'You have no reason to be self-satisfied. I may 
 as well tell you that I have declined another invita- 
 tion on your account, and taken a furnished house 
 in Norfolk instead. Mr. Bellamy will be among the 
 guests I have asked to stay with us. I hope you 
 will be civil to him.' 
 
 Rosabel smiled. 
 
 ' You understand, Rosabel ? I expect you to 
 retrieve yourself by behaving sensibly.' 
 
 ' I understand very well what you mean, mother.' 
 
 * The only thing for you, I can see, is to settle 
 down. Mr. Aylmer agrees with me.' 
 
 Rosabel's cheeks flamed suddenly. 
 
 ' What is it to do with him !' 
 
 ' All my affairs are to do with him,' replied Mrs. 
 Fairbourne, with an assurance far from being 
 sincere. 
 
 * Good-bye !' said the girl abruptly, and turned 
 away. 
 
 Her mother did not trouble to answer. She was 
 putting on her gloves. 
 
 Rosabel went to her room, and packed a few 
 necessaries in a little bag. Then she wrote a note, 
 which she had written many times in her mind : 
 
 ' I have run away with Mr. Braithwaite. What 
 else could you expect of a barmaid ? You will never 
 
 see me again. 
 
 ROSABEL.'
 
 232 ROSABEL 
 
 She addressed this characteristic message to her 
 mother, and waited awhile. Presently she heard 
 the carriage drive up, and the ladies depart. A 
 few moments later the men started. 
 
 If she had looked her last upon her mother with- 
 out any emotion other than joy, it was far other- 
 wise that she said farewell with her eyes to Alec 
 Aylmer. 
 
 She gazed after him dimly. In another way he 
 had done her as much harm as her mother. She 
 could hear his voice still : 
 
 ' Love, love, Rosabel !' 
 
 The girl's throat contracted. She drew a long 
 quivering sigh, and went to put the note on her 
 mother's dressing-table where it would be found 
 when she was gone.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 IN spite of Braithwaite's welcome departure, Aylmer 
 was feeling depressed this afternoon, and his ab- 
 straction scarcely realized the sunlight and shadow 
 of the woods. 
 
 The necessity for a distinct understanding with 
 Amy Fairbourne confronted him. There are some 
 hints which the keenest-witted woman will not take* 
 and she still attempted to lead him with a string 
 which was irksome, although it was fashioned of 
 nothing more galling than ribbon and flowers. 
 
 It would not be pleasant to tell her outright that 
 he wanted the girl ; yet otherwise how could he 
 put himself upon a proper footing in her house ? 
 To go on in the old way was unfair to himself and 
 Rosabel. At least, he ought to have a chance. Of 
 course, the mother might be a powerful adverse 
 influence if she chose. Would she choose ? 
 
 That he should ever arrive at asking himself such 
 a question showed how great a revolution had taken 
 place in his regard for her. Where was the indul- 
 gence he had formerly bestowed upon the weak- 
 
 233
 
 234 ROSABEL 
 
 nesses which had seemed part of her charm ? It 
 had come home to him slowly but certainly that 
 their code of morals was not at all the same ; that 
 these ' weaknesses ' he had admired made up a 
 woman who was selfish and vain, unscrupulous and 
 cruel. The surface of her was so polished, in fact> 
 that the glitter of it had blinded him to the fact 
 that the metal beneath was only of the common 
 sort. He had been a fool, and the result of his 
 folly would be a bad quarter of an hour, and a 
 lifelong enmity from a woman who would never 
 forgive. 
 
 ' If you are going to run on a hot afternoon like 
 this, I shall sit down on the nearest bank and wait 
 till you come back,' said Gledhow resignedly. 
 ' My figure was not intended for ten miles an 
 hour.' 
 
 ' Not five,' retorted Aylmer, ' and a little exer- 
 cise will do you good.' 
 
 But his smile was directed as much against him- 
 self as the other man. Unconsciously he had been 
 hurrying to meet Rosabel. 
 
 In another ten minutes the men emerged from the 
 wood near a gate in a ring fence, and five minutes 
 more brought them to a lawn gay with ladies 
 in summer costumes, their sunshades dotting the 
 grass like many-coloured mushrooms on gaudy 
 stems. 
 
 Aylmer's eyes roved instantly in search of
 
 ROSABEL 235 
 
 Rosabel, and found her not. While he stood yawning 
 mentally, an acquaintance greeted him, and bore 
 him off to have an iced drink after his walk. Half 
 an hour had passed before he found his way to the 
 side of Mrs. Fairbourne, and his first remark was 
 sufficiently damping to a woman in love. 
 
 ' Where is Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' She isn't here.' 
 
 He started slightly. 
 
 ' I thought she came with you ?' 
 
 ' No ; she had one of her sulky fits, and preferred 
 to stay at home.' 
 
 ' What excuse did she make ?' 
 
 ' None, except that she preferred to remain at 
 home. What is the matter ?' 
 
 ' The sun is rather warm,' he said. 
 
 ' You shouldn't have walked.' 
 
 * I will go indoors for a moment, if you will excuse 
 me.' 
 
 ' Let me come with you !' 
 
 ' No, please don't. It is quite unnecessary.' 
 
 He motioned her back in her chair. 
 
 * You always seem so strong,' she said uneasily. 
 
 ' I am strong,' he replied. ' Stronger than you 
 think !' 
 
 He left her staring after him, conscious of some- 
 thing underlying his words that she did not under- 
 stand, something antagonistic to her and her 
 desires. So she sat isolated among the hum of
 
 236 ROSABEL 
 
 voices and laughter and clatter of tea-cups, with a 
 haggard look on her face. 
 
 The afternoon had suddenly become sultry. She 
 felt out of place, neglected, old. Why had she 
 come ? Why did she go anywhere ? There was 
 only one thing in the world she wanted, and it 
 evaded her.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 AYLMER left after excusing himself to his hostess, 
 and walked rapidly back to The Hermitage. He 
 was uneasy about Rosabel. If she were fretting 
 over Braithwaite's departure he wanted to talk a 
 little sense into her head and comfort into her 
 heart. This was how he accounted to himself for 
 his haste to return. In reality, an impression of 
 calamity had overtaken him, and his actions were 
 dictated by an unacknowledged anxiety to make 
 sure that she was safe. 
 
 The garden wore a deserted air when he reached 
 it at last. There was the same suggestive empti- 
 ness in the hall, of which his eyes took in every 
 comer with a glance. But on the window-seat, 
 which she had favoured so often, a book lay open, 
 as though a girl's careless hand had just dropped 
 it and might soon pick it up again. She was not 
 in the drawing-room, nor in the dining-room, nor 
 in the library. 
 
 He rang the bell. A servant appeared, who 
 looked surprised to see him. 
 
 237
 
 238 ROSABEL 
 
 ' Can you tell me where I shall find Miss Fair- 
 bourne ?' 
 
 ' I'll inquire, sir.' 
 
 His pulses became feverish while he waited. 
 When he heard a footstep his head went up with 
 a jerk, and if she had been there his eyes would 
 have said to her: 'I love you.' But it was only 
 a housemaid. 
 
 ' Miss Fairbourne isn't in her room, sir. I know 
 she went out soon after you did, sir, because Williams 
 the gardener saw her at the station.' 
 
 ' At the station ?' 
 
 ' Yes, sir. He says she had a little bag in her 
 hand.' 
 
 The woman looked curious. 
 
 ' Thanks,' said Aylmer. 
 
 His face was gray. He realized now what it was 
 that he had feared all along, why he had been im- 
 pelled to return at once, why the suspense of that 
 walk back would remain with him, a hideous 
 memory, for ever. No process of reasoning was 
 necessary. He loved her ; his instinct leaped to 
 the right conclusion, and he knew then as well as he 
 knew later that she had gone to Braithwaite. 
 
 Harsh words he had for her at this moment- 
 words he would have struck another man for apply- 
 ing to her yesterday. But he could not leave her 
 to her fate ; the girl must be saved despite herself, 
 although she seemed scarcely worth the effort.
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 239 
 
 She was Rosabel still, and her life, whatever she 
 did, was woof to the warp of his own. 
 
 He knew Braithwaite's London address, and 
 there was a train at 5.15. She must have had 
 more than an hour's start of him, but he could 
 only do his best and blame himself most unreason- 
 ably for not having anticipated her flight, and 
 prevented it. Yet even now he could scarcely 
 credit her with such a passion ; obstinate as she 
 had been in making herself conspicuous, he had never 
 seen her give Braithwaite a glance which meant love. 
 
 But she had gone ! The crushing fact stared 
 him in the face, and his amazement did not bring 
 her back. He had thought her a mere girl, innocent 
 in spite of her breeding, imbued with a natural 
 shrinking from anything gross or evil, and she had 
 gone to Braithwaite ! It was the bitterest draught 
 of his life. 
 
 He closed his eyes in the train to avoid seeing 
 his fellow-passengers, and wished he could close 
 his ears, too. There was hell in his heart. 
 
 When his hansom stopped at Braithwaite's 
 door the windows were alight. 
 
 'Mr. Braithwaite is out of town, sir,' said the 
 servant who answered his ring. 
 
 The ready response was what Aylmer had ex- 
 pected in spite of the lighted windows. It dispelled 
 any hope he might have had that he was mistaken 
 about Rosabel.
 
 240 
 
 ROSABEL 
 
 * Nonsense !' he said. * He came back to London 
 this morning, and he will see me. If he is out I 
 will wait for him.' 
 
 He pushed past the man, who gave way, taken 
 by surprise, and ascended the stairs. 
 
 On the first floor a door stood ajar, revealing a 
 good-sized sitting-room. 
 
 Rosabel was there, and alone. She had taken 
 off her hat and coat, and rested in an armchair, 
 quite at home, her cheek against the cushion as 
 though she were tired. Braithwaite's cigar-case 
 lay on the table beside her, his photographs were 
 strewn about the mantelpiece, his belongings 
 everywhere. The place reeked of him. And she 
 was there ! 
 
 Rage an almost unconquerable rage seized 
 Aylmer. He pushed open the door. 
 
 She started up with a cry, and went very white ; 
 he was pale enough, too. They stared at each other 
 in silence* and the tension strained like a lute- 
 string held insufferably till it broke at last with 
 a snap. 
 
 * Are you mad, Rosabel ? What are you doing 
 here ?' 
 
 ' Have you seen the note I left for my mother ?' 
 ' No ; I returned from the garden-party earlier than 
 
 the others, and guessed what had become of you.' 
 ' I told her in the note that I was going away 
 
 with Mr. Braithwaite.' The girl was breathing
 
 ROSABEL 24I 
 
 quickly, unevenly ; she defied him with her eyes. 
 * I am not frightened or ashamed.' 
 ' I regret to hear it !' 
 
 ' What do you want ?' she demanded. ' Why 
 have you come ?' 
 
 To take you away with me. You shall not 
 stay with Braithwaite. You shall not ruin yourself 
 if I can help it.' 
 
 ' But it's my life,' she said, ' and I can do what I 
 like with it.' 
 
 ' You must leave this place at once, Rosabel.' 
 ' You can't dictate to me,' she panted. ' You 
 have no power over me.' 
 
 He stood like a rock before her a rock against 
 which she hurled herself unavailingly. 
 
 ' I would not have believed it possible that you 
 could be so dead to decency.' 
 
 ' Kindly go away,' she cried. ' I have made up 
 my mind, and when my mind is made up nobody 
 can change it. You might have known it was 
 useless to come.' 
 
 ' You disgust me !' he said, with a gesture of anger. 
 * How I could ever have thought you had good 
 
 instincts ' 
 
 ' Good instincts !' Rosabel laughed. c Why 
 should I have any ? From whom should I have 
 inherited them from my mother ? From whom 
 should I have acquired them from my friends of 
 
 the public-house ?' 
 
 16
 
 242 ROSABEL 
 
 ' Your tone is abominable,' he said. ' But for 
 the sake of the girl you seemed to be the girl 
 who talked to me that night at Folkestone I 
 refuse to leave you with this man.' 
 
 She was drunk and shaking with excitement. 
 
 * You can't help yourself. I shall stay, and you 
 can go back to my mother and tell her why ! Tell 
 her that I am what she made me, and if that's 
 bad, why, she's bad too. When did she ever care 
 for me, protect me, even trouble herself to ask what 
 I was doing all those years ? I might have walked 
 the streets as long as nobody knew. But every- 
 body will know this. The whole story of the 
 shameful way she deserted me will come out. She 
 made me eat dirt, let her eat some too ! I would 
 wallow in the gutter for the sake of splashing 
 her.' 
 
 A light flashed across Aylmer's brain^ and a 
 weight rolled off his heart. 
 
 * So you are not in love with Braithwaite ?' he 
 asked quietly. * It is only revenge ?' 
 
 * Go back and tell her !' panted the girl. * You 
 are her friend. Let her see herself as she is at last. 
 I shall stay.' 
 
 ' With a man you don't love for revenge !' At 
 last he felt his feet, and really roused to the fight. 
 ' Good God ! how can you be so foolish ! Leaving 
 morality out of the question, how can you be so 
 foolish ! What do you think your life would be ?'
 
 ROSABEL 243 
 
 ' I know what I am doing,' replied Rosabel 
 obstinately. 
 
 * What are you ?' he demanded. * A woman of 
 such unnatural depravity that you have no shrink- 
 ing, or a child delirious with this mad notion of 
 revenge ?' 
 
 ' I don't care what you say,' retorted Rosabel, 
 between her teeth. * Call me whatever you please. 
 I shall stay.' 
 
 * I confess that you amaze me,' he said. * Is 
 it possible that you can be ridiculous enough to 
 commit suicide in order to punish your mother ? 
 Do you imagine that she would be humiliated by 
 your shocking behaviour ? Not a bit of it ! Her 
 friends would pity her. They would say : " Poor 
 Amy, what a misfortune to be burdened by such a 
 daughter ! The father was a groom, you know : 
 what else could you expect ?" 
 
 His mimicry of the voice of a fine lady was ex- 
 cellent, but they were both in too much of a temper 
 to appreciate it. Rosabel gazed at him with the 
 eyes of a basilisk. Hard as he was hitting, she did 
 not flinch. She clenched hands and teeth, and 
 defied him still, and even the man's anger could not 
 deny her strength a silent tribute of unwilling 
 admiration. 
 
 ' It doesn't make any difference what you say,' 
 she reiterated. * Of course, you are acting for her. 
 I dare say she told you to fetch me.' 
 
 16 2
 
 244 ROSABEL 
 
 ' In fact, you insinuate that I lied when I denied 
 any knowledge of your note ?' 
 
 Rosabel preserved an obstinate silence. 
 
 ' And you insist upon believing that your mother 
 would be heart-broken by your conduct because you 
 are too stupid to see that she would have compen- 
 sation.' 
 
 ' She is very proud,' said Rosabel, ' and she is 
 always considering what people think of her.' 
 
 ' You are cutting your own throat,' he said, 
 ' that is all. You had revenge in your very hand 
 at home a legitimate revenge which would have 
 come to you without any seeking on your part. 
 But you were too preoccupied to observe it or you 
 preferred to abandon yourself to your own head- 
 long course to ruin. God give me patience with 
 you !' 
 
 She wavered at last, impressed by his savage 
 earnestness. 
 
 * I don't know what you mean,' she said. 
 
 ' And I don't feel inclined to tell you just now. 
 PutjDn your hat, Rosabel !' 
 ' I shall not.' 
 He caught her by the wrist. 
 
 * Put on your hat !' 
 
 ' You can't take me away by force !' cried the 
 girl, and wrenched herself free, and ran to the door. 
 * Maurice !' she called. 
 
 Aylmer uttered an exclamation, made a step
 
 ROSABEL 245 
 
 forward as though to silence her, quivered, and 
 stood still. 
 
 ' Now go !' she said. * He will protect me.' 
 It was the crisis of two lives, and pride fought 
 with love for mastery of the man. If he left her 
 now it would be for ever. 
 
 He heard Braithwaite coming down the stairs. 
 ' And I ? Would I hurt you ?' he asked in a low 
 tone. ' Would I hurt you in a thousand years as 
 you have hurt me to-day ? Your mother wishes 
 to marry me it isn't a pleasant thing to say, 
 Rosabel and I love you ; there was your revenge.' 
 ' You love me ?' 
 ' Yes.' 
 ' Not her ?' 
 
 ' You, only you for ever you !' 
 She left the door and came nearer to him and 
 nearer, searching his face with wide eyes the 
 terrible eyes of a soul's hunger. 
 
 ' It's a lie !' she said. ' You are only cheating 
 me!' 
 
 He answered with a look, and she broke suddenly, 
 dropping on her knees at the table, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Braithwaite entered, and started at sight of 
 Aylmer. 
 
 ' What the devil are you doing here ?' he demanded 
 furiously. ' Don't cry, Rosabel.' He turned to 
 Aylmcr again. ' Damn you, get out of this !'
 
 246 ROSABEL 
 
 ' Not yet,' said Aylmer. He bent over the 
 girl. * Rosabel, do you really wish me to leave 
 you ?' 
 
 She put out her hand blindly. 
 
 ' No. Take me away,' she sobbed. 
 
 He helped her to her feet, and she put on her hat, 
 which he gave her, and her coat. 
 
 Braithwaite watched as though he were stupefied. 
 
 * Look here, Rosabel, you are not going ?' 
 ' Yes, I am,' she said. 
 
 ' You are treating me unfairly.' 
 
 * I don't think we need discuss that !' said Aylmer^ 
 restraining his passion with an effort. ' Come, 
 Rosabel.' 
 
 He led her to the door. Braithwaite inter- 
 vened. 
 
 * Confound it, this is too much ! Don't you want 
 to stay with me, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' No,' said Rosabel distinctly. 
 
 The veins stood out on Braithwaite's forehead, 
 swollen with a rush of blood, and his hand clenched ; 
 but he did nothing there was nothing to do ; she 
 had ended it. She did not even wish him good-byej 
 and the door banged behind her with a note of 
 finality. 
 
 Aylmer took her downstairs, and sighed with 
 relief to get out of the house. He put her in a 
 hansom, and got in himself. 
 
 * Paddington,' he said.
 
 ROSABEL 247 
 
 Rosabel did not heed or ask where he was taking 
 her ; at intervals she sobbed still low, long- 
 drawn, tearless sobs, the last mutterings of the 
 storm. Aylmer sat silent, his arms folded, his 
 features set, staring straight ahead. He did not 
 touch her, or look at her, or take any notice 
 at all. 
 
 The drive seemed short ; they were both thinking 
 so hard. When the cab stopped, Rosabel spoke at 
 last. 
 
 4 Where are we going ?' 
 
 ' I shall telegraph to your mother, and leave 
 you with your aunt at the Angler's Inn.' 
 
 She raised no objection, and he sent the wire, and 
 took the tickets without remark. But he selected 
 an empty compartment, and pulled up one window 
 to protect her from the draught. 
 
 Rosabel's eyes smarted, and her head ached. 
 She took off her hat presently, and leaned back. 
 Her attitude was almost identical with her attitude 
 in Braithwaite's armchair. Aylmer ground his 
 teeth, and turned away. 
 
 ' You've said a lot of horrid things to me, haven't 
 you ?' she said abruptly. ' Bitter things cruel 
 things !' 
 
 * You deserved every one of them, and more.' 
 
 * But you needn't have said them.' 
 
 ' I thought you were fond of justice, Rosabel ? 
 You ventured far in search of it !'
 
 248 ROSABEL 
 
 ' Oh, I shan't talk at all !' said Rosabel. 
 
 She averted her face, and whimpered a little 
 presently, and the rest of the journey like the 
 cab drive was performed in silence. 
 
 It was dark before they reached their station, and 
 when they descended the lamps were lighted, 
 and a chill mist was rising from the low-lying 
 fields. 
 
 She led the way through the wicket, and stopped 
 -.outside. 
 
 * You needn't come any farther unless you like.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Aylmer ; * I prefer to see you 
 home.' 
 
 * Do you think I need watching ?' demanded the 
 girl, with sudden violence. ' Are you going to tell 
 my aunt to lock me in ?' 
 
 He walked beside her quietly. They came to 
 the cross-roads, and then to the barn, and then 
 to the duck-pond, which was always half dry at 
 midsummer. A cow in a shed lowed as they passed, 
 and a familiar farmyard smell greeted Rosabel's 
 nostrils. It was very quiet ; their footsteps were 
 almost noiseless on the dust of a long drought. 
 
 The glow/from'the r bar window was visible quite 
 a long way off, like a great red eye which grew 
 bigger and bigger every moment. A door swung 
 open, and the smell of beer came out. Rosabel's 
 heart gave a little throb for some unknown reason t 
 and she stopped by the bench where Braithwaite
 
 ROSABEL 249 
 
 had tried to kiss her on the birthday which seemed 
 so long ago. 
 
 ' Are you coming in ?' she asked. 
 'No. I must catch the last train back to 
 London.' 
 
 There was a pause of twenty seconds. She stood 
 with her back to the light, but his face was thrown 
 into relief against the black background of the 
 night. 
 
 The girl's tongue was loosened at last. 
 ' Forgive me oh, forgive me !' 
 ' Do you really care whether I do or not ?' 
 ' If I had known,' she said huskily, ' I would have 
 been so different.' 
 
 ' What does that mean ?' 
 
 ' I've loved you for ever so long, and now you 
 are angry, and you won't forgive me, and I shall 
 die of shame !' 
 
 Aylmer's breathing quickened. He did not 
 answer for a moment. 
 
 ' It's a thing no man would forgive,' he said. 
 ' The mere ideas you have had have tainted 
 you. And I don't even know how far you have 
 
 gone with Braithwaite ' 
 
 Rosabel's head drooped ; she plucked at her 
 gown. 
 
 * He has kissed me,' she said, in a guilty whisper, 
 * five times. I didn't like it, and now how I hate 
 to think of it now !'
 
 250 ROSABEL 
 
 * Is that all, Rosabel ?' 
 
 ' I am sure it wasn't more than five times,' she 
 answered innocently. 
 
 The light caught her face, and he looked hard 
 at it. 
 
 ' You are truthful,' he admitted. ' Whatever you 
 are not which you ought to be, I will swear you are 
 truthful ! So I will believe that he has only kissed 
 you five times. That is bad enough.' 
 
 ' I know. I am not defending myself. Only 
 why didn't you tell me ?' 
 
 ' You never gave me a civil word after he ap- 
 peared. Under such circumstances, it isn't easy to 
 tell a girl you love her !' 
 
 ' I thought you were going to marry my mother, 
 you see.' 
 
 * Yes, we have both made mistakes,' he said 
 ' such mistakes as one pays for all one's life.* 
 
 ' All one's life ?' repeated the girl drearily. ' And 
 I am only nineteen.' 
 
 There was another silence. The sound of the 
 river rushing over the weir reached them faintly, 
 again the wakeful cow lowed in the shed across 
 the fields, and Mrs. Collins' robust voice, raised in 
 admonition, penetrated the outer stillness of the 
 night. 
 
 ' 'Ow much longer are you goin' to be with them 
 sandwiches, Jane ? The gentleman wants to catch 
 his train.'
 
 ROSABEL 251 
 
 For the second time that evening a tension 
 snapped. Without a sound she threw her arms 
 round his neck. 
 
 He responded instantly, passionately, clasping 
 her close, and kissing her on the lips. 
 
 * We are both upset to-night. I shall see you 
 to-morrow, Rosabel.'
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE folly of washing one's dirty linen in public was 
 not one of Amy Fairbourne's. She considered it 
 indecent, and, what was perhaps worse, a bore. At 
 least, the unpleasant operation might be postponed. 
 So she told her hostess that Rosabel had gone home in 
 a fit of ill-temper, apologized for her daughter's shock- 
 ing behaviour, and burned the note in her bedroom 
 grate. Aylmer's disappearance she was not called 
 upon to explain , but she knew perfectly well that he 
 had guessed, God knows why, and followed. What 
 was it to do with him ? And as a rule he was the 
 last man in the world to interfere with other people's 
 business. Regardless of appearances, he, who ought 
 to have been petrified by disgust, had rushed to the 
 rescue. And if his ofnciousness succeeded, he 
 would expect gratitude. 
 
 Brilliant in the light of many wax candles- 
 candles were a fad at The Hermitage Amy Fair- 
 bourne laughed loudly at a particularly stupid joke. 
 Yes, he would expect gratitude. What an absurd 
 world it was ! But he might not succeed. 
 
 252
 
 ROSABEL 253 
 
 There were moments when she saw black spots 
 instead of white walls and water-colours, and the 
 carpet rose under her feet like an ocean wave ; and 
 she had had only two glasses of champagne for 
 dinner besides the wing of a chicken and an ice in a 
 paper frill. She would have given five hundred 
 pounds to go to bed at nine o'clock, but dare not say 
 her head ached ; four pairs of eyes were on the watch, 
 and she could almost hear the conjectures which 
 would follow her retreat. 
 
 Nevertheless, when a telegram on a salver was 
 brought to her, she took it calmly. 
 
 ' Rosabel safe. Staying with Collinses to-night. 
 Can I see you in the morning ? Please answer to 
 my address. AYLMER.' 
 
 She crumpled the message in her hand. 
 
 ' It is only from Rosabel,' she said. 
 
 In all her life she had never passed such an 
 insufferable evening. She was sick with suspense 
 and dread. What was Aylmer's attitude towards 
 Rosabel ? He must be disgusted. Even caring 
 enough to bring her back, he must be disgusted. 
 No man could take it calmly. Surely he would 
 hate her for evermore ? 
 
 Still, she could not banish a host of misgivings, 
 and the sickness of suspense endured. Perhaps he 
 was going to bully her for not taking better care of 
 her daughter, and wash his hands of the pair of them.
 
 254 ROSABEL 
 
 Even that, she felt, would be better than the other 
 thing that ' other thing ' which she scarcely dared 
 to name even to her own soul. In the morning she 
 was allowed to go. It was like emerging from 
 prison the relief of being free at last to look as ugly 
 as she liked. 
 
 Directly she was alone the animation left her 
 eyes, her mouth drooped at the corners ; it 
 was as though another woman had stepped into 
 her clothes a woman who was tired, careworn, 
 old. 
 
 The lowered blinds and general stagnation of 
 London in August did not tend to raise her spirits. 
 The district of Hyde Park was especially depressing. 
 A whole street she passed through bore scarcely a 
 sign of life. A footman in his shirt-sleeves was 
 sunning himself on the doorsteps of a certain mansion 
 where she had enjoyed many a good dinner ; an 
 elderly caretaker was gossiping at an area gate with 
 the milkman ; a domestic tabby stealing across the 
 road might have been a wild relation prowling among 
 the deserted, sun-baked streets of a ruined city of 
 the East. Not a carriage was in sight ; not a wheel 
 or a hoof broke the stillness. Great Cumberland 
 Place was sleeping, shuttered and silent, as 
 though it had never heard the sound of human 
 foot. 
 
 Her dining-room blinds were up in readiness for 
 her arrival, however, and a slatternly female, the
 
 ROSABEL 255 
 
 coachman's sister, opened the door. She sent a 
 reply to Aylmer's telegram : 
 
 ' Will see you at Great Cumberland Place at one 
 o'clock.' 
 
 Then she waited for hours, for a lifetime. 
 When he arrived, on the stroke of one, she was 
 still in her hat, like a visitor, and the well-known 
 perfume of violets greeted him with her gloved 
 hand. 
 
 * Excuse this mausoleum,' she said. 'The ser- 
 vants have gone to Norfolk. I am only stopping to 
 see you on the way. What of Rosabel ?' 
 ' You had her note ?' 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' My telegram reached you last night, of 
 course ?' 
 
 ' It was thoughtful of you to relieve my anxiety !' 
 She was extremely bitter. ' Where did you find her 
 with Maurice Braithwaite ?' 
 ' I am forced to admit that I did.' 
 4 She has behaved abominably, and you like 
 yourself. I guessed at once that you had followed 
 her. What made you suspect ?' 
 
 ' Sundry reflections inspired by her absence from 
 the garden-party. I was fortunate enough to catch 
 the next tram.' 
 
 ' What did she say ?' 
 
 4 A great deal. She is not as bad as you think,'
 
 256 ROSABEL 
 
 he said. * Only she has deeper feelings than most 
 girls and she is braver.' 
 
 ' Braver !' repeated Mrs. Fairbourne. ' A de- 
 praved woman would have had more more hesita- 
 tion. I have another word for her conduct.' 
 
 ' Then, don't say it, please ! You don't under- 
 stand yet.' 
 
 His tone exasperated her. She saw already that 
 he was far from being alienated from Rosabel, and 
 the fact was not likely to propitiate her in her 
 daughter's favour. 
 
 ' I understand very well,' she said. 
 
 * I think not ; I didn't. She does not care for 
 Braithwaite. She went to him merely to create a 
 scandal.' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne, taken aback, stared at him. 
 
 ' Is she mad ? What do you mean ?' 
 
 ' I give you her own explanation. She planned 
 this flight with Braithwaite wholly and solely to 
 create a scandal which should call attention to her 
 bringing-up to the wrong which she considers you 
 have done to her.' 
 
 She was rather white, but she laughed. 
 
 ' Oh, that is it, is it ? How amiable of her ! 
 Only I don't believe a word of it ! She was caught, 
 so she had to say something.' 
 
 ' I disagree with you entirely, Mrs. Fairbourne,' 
 he said decidedly. 
 
 ' A girl who would do a thing like that '
 
 ROSABEL 257 
 
 * I don't excuse her, only none of us are perfect,' 
 he said. ' I am quite willing to marry her.' 
 ' You will marry her ?' 
 
 ' I hope so, with all my heart. She knows that I 
 am going to ask her.' 
 
 The blow had fallen at last. She realized now 
 that she had been expecting it how long ? Antici- 
 pation of it had hung like a black cloud over her life, 
 despite all her efforts to dispel it. 
 
 She took it very well. He was not feeling kindly 
 disposed towards her, yet he could not help admiring 
 the way she rallied after the first gasp, and stood her 
 ground, hiding her wound, denying it in the very 
 face of the man who had dealt it. She had pluck. 
 He was glad. It would have been horrible if she 
 had lost her head and wept, and said things which 
 would have made intercourse between them as 
 mother-in-law and son-in-law impossible. 
 ' This,' she said faintly, ' is rather a surprise.' 
 ' I hoped you knew,' he answered. 
 ' Of course ' she drew a deep breath ' I am 
 gratified and relieved.' 
 ' Thank you.' 
 
 ' You are treating her splendidly, the little cat far 
 better than she deserves. I trust she realizes it. 
 Anyhow I am obliged to you/ Her voice grew 
 fuller, more natural, every moment. ' You have 
 always been a good friend to me, Alec ! And you 
 could not show your friendship more practically 
 
 17
 
 258 ROSABEL 
 
 than by taking this troublesome girl off my hands. 
 She needs a man to look after her, and no man could 
 do it better, I am sure, than you.' 
 
 ' It is very kind of you to say so, Amy,' he replied, 
 touched by her generosity. ' I think I can make 
 her happy, and I hope I shall make you better 
 friends with each other than you have been.' 
 
 'Oh, I am not going to welcome her like a 
 returned prodigal!' she replied. 'You needn't 
 expect that !' 
 
 ' You must forgive her. She is only nineteen.' 
 
 * She is old enough to behave with the vicious 
 determination of a woman of forty. She can 
 come back to me, but I shall say what I like. 
 If you are nervous, she had better stay with the 
 Collinses.' 
 
 ' That is unnecessary ; my sister would take her. 
 But she #ught to return. Can't you let it drop ? 
 After ajl,' he said, ' if I am satisfied 
 
 ' I am not as complaisant,'' she said, ' as 
 you,' 
 
 It was the one thrust she had given him, and he 
 let it pass. 
 
 * I will tell her,' he said slowly. ' She shall please 
 herself.' 
 
 ' It is all the same to me.' Mrs. Fairbourne 
 shrugged her shoulders. ' She has done her best, even 
 according to your lenient explanation of her conduct, 
 tojnjure me. There is a home for her with me until
 
 ROSABEL 259 
 
 she marries, but my heart will not break if she does 
 not choose to come.' 
 
 ' Still, I shall persuade her to rejoin you,' he said. 
 ' I can understand that you are a little bitter, but the 
 feeling will pass, I hope.' 
 
 Her lips twitched for an instant, and straightened 
 with visible effort as he took her hand. 
 ' Good-bye,' she said. 
 
 The farewell, as she uttered it, was very signifi- 
 cant. 
 
 She went to the window, behind the curtain, to 
 watch him down the street. Then she turned, and 
 opened the bottle of smelling-salts attached to her 
 golden chatelaine, and held it to her nostrils with the. 
 face of death. 
 
 As for Aylmer, he turned his back on the little 
 house in Great Cumberland Place and* its mistress 
 with a sigh of relief. She had behaved badty, and 
 long ago he had reached the stage of wondering how 
 he could ever have liked her ; but she was a woman, 
 and she loved him, and he had had to tell her 
 that he wanted her daughter a most unpleasant 
 task. Perhaps he had got off better than he 
 deserved. 
 
 He returned thanks in the proper quarter that it 
 was over and he might relax. The rest of the day 
 should be more agreeable. He lunched comfort- 
 ably at Prince's, and went down to the Angler's 
 Inn. 
 
 172
 
 26o ROSABEL 
 
 Rosabel must have been watching the trains, for 
 she met him fifty yards up the road, with her cheeks 
 in a glow. 
 
 ' I thought perhaps you wouldn't come, after all,' 
 she said. 
 
 ' I always keep my promises.' 
 
 The girl looked shy, and could not meet his eyes ; 
 to-day was not last night, and the sun was shining. 
 He took her arm. 
 
 ' I have seen your mother,' he added. ' She is not 
 pleased ; one can hardly expect it. I thought it 
 best to be quite candid. But she is willing that you 
 should join her in Norfolk.' 
 
 * I don't care how angry she is, and I don't want 
 to go to Norfolk.' 
 
 'Rosabel! Rosabel!' 
 
 ' Why should I care ?' she demanded. 
 
 ' Because I would rather you were friends than 
 not. In this instance you were wrong, and it is your 
 place to make the first advance.' 
 
 ' She would only smile in that nasty way she has 
 with me, and say, " Never mind, Rosabel." 
 
 ' I don't ask a great deal of you I don't ask you 
 to love her ; but I should prefer you not to adver- 
 tise your our private affairs. Will you oblige me ? 
 You owe me something.' 
 
 * Of course* if you put it like that,' murmured 
 Rosabel huskily.
 
 ROSABEL 261 
 
 * It need only be for a little while,' he said. ' I 
 you know I am waiting for you, Rosabel ?' 
 
 Her lips worked. 
 
 'Then, it is true! I was awake all night,' she 
 admitted under her breath. ' I could not believe it 
 was really true !'
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 AYLMER took Rosabel to London the next morning, 
 and bought her an engagement-ring, and saw her off 
 at Liverpool Street for Norfolk. 
 
 Her mother did not come to meet her at the other 
 end, and the girl had a lonely drive of half an hour 
 before the house was reached. 
 
 It was a pretty place, near the Broads, and when 
 Rosabel drove up: several guests, who had arrived 
 earlier in the day, were occupying the veranda, and 
 making a great deal of noise. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne did not rise as Rosabel stood 
 hesitating ; she merely raised her voice. 
 
 * Ah, Rosabel,' she said, ' so you've come ! Brace 
 knows which is your room. If you want tea, order 
 it.' 
 
 The girl was neither defiant nor sullen, she was 
 coldly polite. She had expected to find her mother 
 alone, and the visitors were a welcome buffer. 
 Perhaps nothing would be said, after all. In any 
 case, she was not to be impertinent ; Aylmer had 
 made her promise that at parting. 
 
 262
 
 ROSABEL 263 
 
 When she came down again, with her gloves off, 
 Mrs. Fairbourne's lips twitched, and for a moment a 
 stony silence held her ; but it was necessary to say 
 something the flashing ring had drawn the other 
 women's eyes. 
 
 ' Rosabel has just become engaged,' she said, * to 
 someone you all know well Alec Aylmer.' 
 
 A sort of electric thrill went round. Rash people 
 exchanged furtive glances ; cautious ones looked at 
 their shoes. A carefully modulated voice broke the 
 pause, which could not be allowed to endure. 
 
 ' Alec Aylmer ! Really?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mrs. Fairbourne. ' And I always 
 thought him a confirmed bachelor ! But he is a 
 dear fellow. I could have wished nothing nicer for 
 the girl.' 
 
 She was a wonder ; they all said so afterwards. 
 Meanwhile, everybody began to congratulate Rosabel, 
 who bore herself with considerable composure. She 
 was no longer awkward, because she had lost that 
 sense of inferiority which had always been so bitter 
 to her. Alec Aylmer the best of them all had 
 chosen her for his wife. To consider herself not as 
 good as these people would be an insult to him. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne was the first to observe the subtle 
 change which had come over the girl, and to realize 
 what it meant. She herself did not utter a word of 
 congratulation to her daughter, avoided addressing 
 her, did not mention Aylmer's name again.
 
 264 ROSABEL 
 
 Perhaps this was the course of conduct she had 
 laid down for herself to refuse to perceive Rosabel's 
 self-satisfaction, to ignore that anything of impor- 
 tance had occurred. If so, she could not stick to it. 
 She wanted to hear ; a morbid craving to torture 
 herself drove her to the girl's room after they had 
 said good-night. 
 
 The knock at the door in the silence it reminded 
 Rosabel of that other night. She had posed so 
 mightily in her thoughts, and played such a small 
 part in reality. It was not her own good sense 
 which had saved her from ruining her life and the 
 life of the man who loved her, and for a moment the 
 familiar feeling of humiliation in her mother's 
 presence returned, and she saw herself a pigmy in 
 character beside the woman who was strong enough 
 to treat her with contempt. 
 
 Her cheeks turned red, and her eyes glowed once 
 more with the old sullen fire. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne, on the contrary, was pale, and 
 swept her daughter with a scornful glance. 
 
 ' So you have come back,' she said again. ' I 
 scarcely expected it. You have courage, upon my 
 word, after your behaviour !' 
 
 * Mr. Aylmer wished me to come.' 
 
 ' Mr. Aylmer !' The woman gave a laugh of 
 derision. ' Is that what you call him when you are 
 alone ?' 
 
 * No,' replied Rosabel shortly.
 
 ROSABEL 265 
 
 ' Mr. Aylmer ! I dare say you are rather awed by 
 your magnificence, aren't you, Rosabel ? Actually 
 a gentleman wants you ! If I had left you with the 
 Collinses, you would have married a shop-boy or a 
 groom like your father.' 
 
 ' I shouldn't,' said Rosabel. 
 
 ' It would have been more suitable. Alec will 
 realize his mistake some day. He is not a man to be 
 contented long with an inferior. He has taken a 
 fancy to your looks, and that sort of thing never 
 lasts least of all will it last with him.' 
 
 ' You are trying to make me unhappy,' said 
 Rosabel ; ' but you can't ! I know he loves me.' 
 
 ' Oh, you do ! You are so experienced, of course. 
 But I am even more experienced, and I have known 
 Alec Aylmer longer than you have. Let me tell you 
 that he is just a little fickle.' 
 
 ' I don't believe it,' said the girl. 
 
 * He was in love with me.' 
 
 ' I don't believe it,' repeated Rosabel obstinately. 
 ' He told me he had liked you, but that he had 
 never loved anybody as he loves me.' 
 
 ' You have discussed me ?' 
 
 ' I had to ask,' murmured Rosabel. * I used to 
 think I mean, I thought after what you told me 
 once ' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne's eyes flamed suddenly, and her 
 self-control left her in a great gust of passion. 
 
 * You stole him from me !' she cried. * He was
 
 266 ROSABEL 
 
 mine before he was yours. You wanted to be re- 
 venged, didn't you ? I was to be shocked, heart- 
 broken, panic-stricken by your escapade ; I was to 
 be driven out of England, perhaps, by the reflection 
 of my daughter's dishonour ! I see myself in the 
 role you cast me for ! Go, my dear ; pursue your 
 ** revenge," and I will get the sackcloth and ashes 
 ready !' 
 
 There was more. It was vulgar, it was pitiful, it 
 was horrible. And at the end she swept out of the 
 room like a whirlwind ; but before she reached the 
 door she added in a little sobbing undertone, ' Oh, 
 my God !' and something clutched Rosabel by the 
 throat. 
 
 * Mother !' cried the girl, and started forward. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne did not stop. Through the 
 corridor she fled like a wild thing, and shut the door 
 upon her broken life. And Rosabel, after a moment, 
 followed, and hammered at the door. 
 
 ' Mother, mother, let me in !' 
 
 But there was no response, and she crept back to 
 her own room baffled, and cast herself upon the bed 
 to weep. 
 
 So Rosabel had her revenge after all and hated it.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 IN the morning there were, two white faces at 
 the breakfast-table. But whereas Rosabel, being 
 nervous and upset and distrait, could not speak, 
 Mrs. Fairbourne talked as easily as though she had 
 never suffered from an inconvenient passion in her 
 life. 
 
 Afterwards the woman drew the girl apart. 
 
 * Come outside, Rosabel ; I want to speak to you.' 
 The window stood open to the garden, and Rosabel 
 
 followed silently. When they were beyond earshot 
 of the house, Mrs. Fairbourne began in a voice care- 
 fully modulated and composed : 
 
 ' Last night I made a fool of myself. It is not 
 often that I suffer from an attack of nerves. ... I 
 scarcely remember what I said a great deal of 
 nonsense, I am afraid.' She paused, and her eyes 
 met Rosabel's. ' You understand ?' 
 
 ' Yes, mother.' 
 
 * We were both excited. Why did you run after 
 me, and knock at the door? You made enough 
 noise to alarm the house.' 
 
 267
 
 268 ROSABEL 
 
 Rosabel hung her head, and coloured. 
 
 * And there was nothing the matter,' pursued Mrs. 
 Fairbourne calmly ' nothing at all. I was merely 
 hysterical after a tiring day. So you need not repeat 
 anything to Mr. Aylmer.' 
 
 * I shan't mention it,' said Rosabel, looking up. 
 
 ' Then we can both forget it immediately. 
 When are you going to be married ?' 
 
 ' Alec thought at the end of the month if you are 
 willing ?' replied the girl, almost timidly. 
 
 ' It has nothing to do with me,' said Mrs. Fair- 
 bourne, with an air of great impartiality ; ' pray 
 study yourselves alone. Do you wish to have him 
 down here to stay, or do you want to go back to 
 London and see about your trousseau ?' 
 
 * I think I ought to be seeing about my trousseau.' 
 
 * Very well. We will return to Great Cumberland 
 Place next week, when these people are gone.' 
 
 * You are very kind,' said Rosabel huskily. 
 ' Oh, don't trouble to thank me, pray !' 
 Mrs. Fairbourne turned back to the house. 
 
 * Mother !' panted Rosabel. 
 ' What is the matter ?' 
 
 ' I'm sorry. I was sorry last night for the first 
 time.' 
 
 Mrs. Fairbourne paused. But her face was coldly 
 amused, no more, at the girl's distress. 
 
 * Were you ? Why ? Don't be sentimental, 
 please ; it doesn't suit you, and it doesn't suit me.'
 
 ROSABEL 269 
 
 Rosabel hid herself among the gooseberry bushes 
 and apple-trees in the kitchen garden. 
 
 ' She hates me,' she thought bitterly, ' and she'll 
 never forgive me as long as she lives. She meant 
 everything she said last night, only she is ashamed. 
 Why should I be sorry for her ? I'm not / Oh, 
 Alec !' 
 
 Once more Rosabel wept over her revenge. But 
 she kept her word, and did not repeat the story of 
 that interview to Aylmer when they met again. She 
 only clung to him with a yearning for tenderness 
 which told him as much as he cared to know. 
 
 THE END 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PBIKTMS, GOH.DFOD
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 A PROPHET OF THE REAL 
 
 In one volume. Crmvn Bra., price 6s. 
 
 Some t>res0 pinions 
 
 The Daily Telegraph.' Miss Miller's study is both 
 striking and original. The young authoress knows how to tell her 
 story, and her manner, the way in which she describes the emotions 
 of her characters, is always adequate, and often eloquent. She 
 shows us the girl as she was in the days of her servitude, gives us all 
 the illuminating details of her sordid existence ; then she shows us 
 the pathetic blossoming of the nipped bud under the influence of 
 kindness, the transformation of the morbid girl into a beautiful and 
 gracious woman. Miss Miller is really to be congratulated on her 
 heroine. The study is interesting and faithful.' 
 
 The World. ' An unusually good book.' 
 
 The Glasgow Herald. ' Clever, interesting, and dramatic. 
 There are vivid psychological touches, and the style is throughout 
 rapid, graphic, and direct.' 
 
 The Pall Mall Gazette. 1 There is in it nothing super- 
 fluous, nothing out of place. A striking and dramatic story. This 
 is most certainly a book to read and to praise. ' 
 
 The Daily Chronicle.' It is quite good, and we can very 
 conscientiously recommend it.' 
 
 The Graphic.' Esther Miller is to be thanked for the clever 
 treatment of a new and original idea. ' 
 
 The Sphere. ' If Esther Miller were a new writer I should 
 forecast great things for her from her new novel. ' ' A Prophet of the 
 Real " is a book that is certain to be asked for at the libraries; it 
 will interest, and, moreover, should excite discussion.' 
 
 The Sketch.' A clever and original story, and one far above 
 the average.' 
 
 The Morning Post. It is really clever in plot, well 
 written, passionate, and dramatic.' 
 
 The Daily News.' A very clever story. 1 
 
 The Guardian. 1 Miss Miller's conception of Alice is ex- 
 tremely clever, good, and delicate, and the study of her character is 
 throughout thoroughly interesting. Miss Miller has given us a novel 
 of unusual merit.' 
 
 LONDON : WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 20 & 21. BEDFORD STREET.
 
 000 130 725