STAUNCH 
 OFHE\RT 
 
 
 m 
 
 miUrVM

 
 .A 

 
 STAUNCH OF HEART 
 
 OR, 
 
 ADRIEN LEROY'S SACRIFICE 
 
 Y 
 
 CHARLES GARVICE 
 
 iuthot of "So Nearly Lost," "Lorrie," "Claire," "Her Ransom," "Elaioc ~ 
 "A Wasted Love," "A Woman's Soul," etc. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 M. A. DONOHUE & Co.
 
 STAUNCH OF HEART. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 "UNFORTUNATE; JASPER." 
 
 Now good digestion wait on appetite 
 
 And health on both. SHAKESPEARB. 
 
 The lamplighters were flitting through Pall Mall, the 
 shimmer of wax candles commenced to glimmer from the 
 huge windows of the clubhouses, and the rattle of the 
 carriages as they sped homeward on St. James' stones pro- 
 claimed that the dinner hour of the great ones of the 
 earth was at hand. 
 
 At the entrance to one of the largest of the Grecian 
 temples men's devotion to the god luxury had reared, two 
 gentlemen stood arm in arm, looking down the broad 
 pavement westward. 
 
 "Seven!" said one, as the nearest church gave forth 
 the hour. "Child said seven, did he not?" 
 
 "Yes, and meant, like the auctioneers, half-past," re- 
 turned the other, hiding a yawn behind his exquisitely- 
 gloved hand. "Chud's too young to value his dinner 
 properly, but Manners is not, and he ought to be punctual. 
 Hello ! here he is," and as a slightly-built but exceedingly 
 carefully-dressed young gentleman alighted from a 
 brougham the speaker nodded and held out his hand. 
 
 "Hello !" said the new arrival, shaking hands, "you two 
 fellows first ? I say, Shelton, I hope the others won't be ' 
 late ; I'm hungry as a hunter." 
 
 "Ah, that's right; but what about us who were here 
 first ?" said he whom he had addressed Mortimer Shelton 
 by name, a cynic by nature. "Of course they'll be late 
 Chud very possibly, and Adrien for certain. Ton m^ 
 
 
 
 2135S29
 
 4 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 soul it's the most uncomfortable way of getting a dinner, 
 this feeding in herds and flocks. Come along, one may 
 as well be miserable inside as in this beastly draught." 
 
 With a laugh at his real or assumed ill temper the other 
 two followed him up the broad steps, through the heavy 
 swinging doors, into the Grecian vestibule, with its 
 mosaics and statuary, and thence by way of the ante- 
 room to the grand dining saloon of the Thesasian Club. 
 
 The snowy-covered tables were rapidly filling, the mem- 
 bers were dropping in to their luxurious repast ; servants, 
 silent, fleet of foot and deft of hand, were ministering to 
 their wants and answering or asking questions with low- 
 ered voices. At the reading stands a few men with their 
 hands behind their dress-coat tails were scanning with 
 eager or indifferent eyes the evening papers, and at all 
 three fireplaces were little knots of exquisites discussing 
 something or more probably nothing with slow and 
 well-bred drawl. 
 
 The three friends, Frank Parselle, Mortimer Shelton, 
 and Percy Manners, made their way to a table in a com- 
 fortable recess and seated themselves with characteristic 
 expressions. 
 
 "Cold to-night; fires look comfortable," said Frank 
 Parselle, looking around and responding to numerous 
 nods in kind. 
 
 "Yes, colder than it has been for some days ; makes one 
 hungry," said Percy Manners, the gourmet and epicure. 
 
 "Cold and miserable," concluded Mortimer Shelton, 
 turning a yawn into a half-muttered growl. "Beastly 
 weather. But what can you expect of this climate ? Ten 
 minutes past seven ! The air is incompatible with punctu- 
 ality, I suppose. How foolish I was to expect that idiot 
 Ch'ud to his time. I might have had another cigar at 
 chambers." 
 
 "And lost the luxury of a growl, old fellow," inter- 
 rupted Manners. "Shall we wait?'" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Frank Parselle, "Chud's a good fellow, 
 and Adrien might not take it smoothly, you know." 
 
 "Then why the deuce can't he keep his time ?" muttered 
 Mortimer. "I'm never late for dinner." 
 
 "Nobody would wait for you, old boy," laughed Man-
 
 Staunch of Heart. 5 
 
 ners. "It's a great bore, though. But here's one of 
 them." 
 
 He broke off as one of the unpunctual ones sauntered 
 in and looked around the room with languid, leisurely 
 gaze. 
 
 Mortimer touched the table sharply with a fork and the 
 searcher bent his eyes that way and came up. 
 
 "Hello ! you fellows here already ?" he exclaimed, in a 
 tone of genuine surprise. 
 
 "Now where do you suppose we should be staring at 
 Nelson's column, or in North America ? It's ten minutes 
 past seven," said Mortimer, making room for him and 
 stroking his mustache peevishly. 
 
 "Is it, though, really? By Jove, I thought it had not 
 struck yet. I must get that watch of mine seen to." 
 
 "Better pitch it behind the fire," snapped Mortimer. 
 "That watch of yours belonged to your grandfather, 
 didn't it, Chud ? Well, I wish your people had buried it 
 with him. It's the eternal nuisance to all your friends. 
 I'll buy it of you." 
 
 "No, you won't," laughed Chudleigh Ireton, seating 
 himself and taking stock of the room. 
 
 "And now where's Leroy ?" said Shelton, with a plain- 
 tive sigh of resignation. " Ton my word, this is too bad. 
 The trouble I took to make the carte attractive. The soup 
 will be thick as mud, the turbot boiled to wool, and you 
 know what Antoine is if the entrees stand ' 
 
 "Ah, by Jove, we're waiting for Leroy, of course. By 
 jingo! I'd forgotten," said Chudleigh, as if visited by a 
 sudden attack of memory. "I met Leroy at Brook's yes- 
 terday, and he asked me to tell you that he was off to 
 Barminster Castle last night, and might be late. We were 
 not to wait, and, if I haven't left it in my other coat, here's 
 a note explaining, old fellow." 
 
 Mortimer Shelton uttered an expletive upon the note, 
 and, before reading it, ordered dinner to be served at 
 once. 
 
 "Heaven forgive me this once, never again will I sin 
 against myself in this way!" he exclaimed. "Why on 
 earth couldn't you be punctual? But being here at last, 
 why couldn't you deliver Leroy's message ? Chud, you are
 
 6 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 incorrigible and incurable. Now what does this fellow- 
 say? 
 
 " 'My dear Mortimer, a letter from Jasper takes me 
 down to the castle, posthaste. But I will return to join 
 your little party, and, by your gracious leave, bring Jasper 
 with me. You will not, I trust, delay even the soup for 
 the space of Chudleigh's watch-tick. 
 
 " 'Yours, not, I hope, unfaithfully, 
 
 ADRIEN LEROY." 
 
 "Always Jasper," commented Percy Manners. "It is a 
 perpetual enigma to me by what means Jasper Vermont 
 obtained and retains his influence over Leroy." 
 
 "No enigma, but as plain as the most ordinary of pike- 
 staffs," said Mortimer. "But this is like Leroy, confound 
 him ! In the old days I wish they were back one could 
 call a man out for keeping one's dinner waiting." 
 
 "And be shot for your trouble," laughed Manners, "we 
 know what sort of a hand Leroy is at the trigger, he'd cut 
 your last growl short, old fellow." 
 
 The rest laughed, Mortimer joining them, but more 
 quietly. 
 
 "That's true, and I'm not so stupid as to deny it, as you 
 expected, Percy. And, by Heaven, I think Adrien Leroy 
 owes his exemption to that same facility for dead leveling, 
 as poor Savant used to call it. But here's the soup." 
 
 "And not thick, either; that's good of Antoine," said 
 Percy. 
 
 And for a little while all was silence save the click of 
 the spoons and the rustle of the napkins. 
 
 "Ah, I feel that I may linger on after that," said Percy, 
 "and if the turbot and 'to-follow' correspond in excel- 
 lence and nutrition I may recover entirely " 
 
 "And so plunge your country into mourning," wound 
 up Mortimer. "I hope we shall get through the fish and 
 an entree or two before Jasper arrives. I don't like him 
 enough to wish him to share Antoine's benediction," he 
 added, eying his portion of fish with critical satisfaction. 
 
 "That's candid," laughed Chudleigh. "I thought you 
 said the other night at the Veronas' that speech was given 
 us to hide our thoughts, eh, philosopher ?"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 7 
 
 "I said it, but I am not aware that I asked you to be- 
 lieve it or imagine that I did myself," said Mortimer; 
 "candor is a virtue " 
 
 "Too frail to be tempted," concluded Parselle. 
 
 " Ton my soul that's good for you, Frank/' retorted 
 Mortimer. ''Somebody said you were writing a comedy, 
 and I gave them direct contradiction. I'll have to apolo- 
 gize, I suppose." 
 
 "Wisdom cometh from thee," nodded the quiet Frank, 
 with a smile. "But about Jasper, as we haven't got him 
 to flatter let's worry his character. On what grounds 
 rests your dislike, oh, philosopher ?" 
 
 "On what grounds rests your affection for salmi of 
 pheasant?" snapped Mortimer. "Though you have de- 
 voured two-thirds of the dish, you can't give a reason, and 
 on like principle I can't say, or won't, why I cherish a pet 
 antipathy to our friend Jasper." 
 
 "A pet antipathy, and that's about it," nodded Manners, 
 "If put to the vote I believe none of us would cry for 
 Vermont and yet there is nothing against him in look, 
 word or deed. He's a good fellow." 
 
 "Well bred," said Chudleigh. 
 
 "Easy and knows a horse from a shorthorn," added 
 Frank. "And is Adrien Leroy's fast friend." 
 
 "That's it!" said Percy. "That puzzles me " 
 
 "Tush," said Mortimer, motioning for the wine. "Why 
 should it? Years ago at Eton or Oxford Adrien Leroy 
 saved Jasper Vermont's life ; don't worry me to tell you. 
 how, I don't know, and I don't care. He saved his life 
 saved ajsper Vermont's life; don't worry me to tell you 
 If a dog, a cat, or a one-eyed monkey placed himself 
 under his protection Adrien would stick to him through 
 life and death if he could. This Jasper, with all his 
 quiet, easy ways and lazy smile is neither a sloth nor a 
 bird of paradise. I've seen tigers and shot 'em. Claws 
 beneath velvet ; soft lips hide sharp teeth. Pass the sauce." 
 
 "And so you think Jasper has more of the tiger than 
 the tabby cat, and more of the raven than the domestic 
 hen?" said Manners. And yet Adrien is sharp enough. 
 Did any one ever hear of his being deceived by man, 
 woman or child ? By Jove, I believe one quiet glance from
 
 S Staunch of Heart. 
 
 those eyes of his would take it out of them in half a 
 minute. Adrien is no fool." 
 
 "Every man has one weak side; Achilles' heel ruined 
 him, little use steel-plating everywhere else if they left that 
 little corner for Paris' arrow. But classics are wasted on 
 you fellows ; the whole secret lies in the fact that Adrien 
 Leroy once befriended Jasper Vermont and that, conse- 
 quently, he will believe no ill of the aforesaid Jasper." 
 
 "Lucky fellow this Jasper, let matters between him and 
 Leroy be as they may," said Percy. "He's a steward, or 
 something of that sort, to Adrien, and all the money passes 
 through his hands. And what a mint it is! There's no 
 knowing how rich Leroy may be. My governor says a 
 million. He knows Lord Leroy and goes down to the castle 
 for a week in the off season. It's a palace and the baron 
 is a sort of king. Grand reception-rooms, miles of pic- 
 ture gallery, a guard at arms in the corridors, and an 
 army of retainers in silk and satin." 
 
 Mortimer nodded. 
 
 "A shadow of the ancient glory," he said, in his curt 
 way. "Provis tells of how William the Fourth turned 
 green with jealousy when they ushered him into the state 
 apartment. 
 
 " 'This beats my palace, Leroy,' he said, with a smile. 
 
 "Leroy bowed but he didn't contradict. And, by 
 Heaven ! he wouldn't cry second even to his king where he 
 thought himself first You know what the prince said 
 when he saw the Leroy arms on Adrien's coach. 
 
 " 'I'd change that lozenge if I were you, Leroy, and put 
 it thus: His satanic majesty on a throne, the Pope on 
 one above, and a Leroy on another above all motto, 
 "Proud, prouder, proudest." 
 
 " 'I shall be proud to receive your highness' sketch/ 
 said Adrien, but the prince was right; if there is any 
 superlative in the article the Leroys have it. They are as 
 proud as the highest of the Caesars. There's no bar sin- 
 ister across their badge and they know it. The lowest of 
 their race would sooner jump into that fire and stop there 
 than do or countenance a dirty action. They treat 
 money as if it were the dross moralists would have us 
 consider it. They bow the knee to nothing save royalty
 
 Staunch of Heart. 9 
 
 and women. They love madly, hate passionately where 
 the object of their dislike is too near equality to be treated 
 with contempt. And what contempt it is ! Remember that 
 snob, Parkley; since that day he interrupted Adrien and 
 got that killing stare he has never shown head it's my 
 belief he's hanged himself. And yet with all his pride, 
 there's no faster, firmer friend than Leroy " 
 
 "As Jasper Vermont can testify," said Frank 
 
 "That's so," nodded Mortimer. "And now, after that 
 exhaustive analysis of the Leroy temperament, have the 
 goodness to pass the Cliquot." 
 
 "I saw Haidee in the park this morning," said Chud- 
 leigh, wiping his mustache and regarding the pate affec- 
 tionately. "Such furs! The rest of the dear creatures 
 were filled with envy. In that quarter Leroy certainly 
 treats the precious coin as dross." 
 
 "And bestows it perhaps on the principle of dust to 
 dust," remarked Mortimer, with a cynical smile. 
 
 "Haidee should hear that," said Manners, laughing 
 with the rest. "In all her sweetness those eyes of hers 
 can fire, let me tell you. Now, she's a tigress, I believe. 
 She makes me tremble every time I go near her, such a 
 thirsty, insatiable animal. It's well for Leroy that the 
 figures are seven ; anything less than a million would come 
 to grief." 
 
 "What do you think little Bella at the Casket told me?" 
 said Parselle, leaning forward and speaking in a lower 
 key. 
 
 "Some nonsense, I suppose," said Mortimer. 
 
 "That Leroy had made the theatre over to Haidee and 
 settled a thousand a year upon her." 
 
 "Very likely," was Mortimer's comment. "When a 
 man is idiot enough to buy such an expensive toy as a 
 theatre for his favorites, and engages to pay for the per- 
 petual repairing and gilding of the toy, it is only reason- 
 able to conclude that he would be glad to hand it over in 
 toto, and the Casket costs Leroy three times that amount. 
 Five thousand, ah, eight thousand a year, to say nothing 
 of the ladf manager. And all for a whim ! It would be 
 money in his pocket if the place were burned down, and I 
 sometimes think I'll bring a box of patent matches and
 
 IO Staunch of Heart. 
 
 manage it for him. If I could only shut the butterflies up 
 in the dainty trap and suffocate them in the bargain !" 
 
 "Hush !" whispered Chudleigh Ireton ; "here he is." 
 
 All looked around with a smile of expectation. Two 
 gentlemen had just entered. 
 
 The one a dark, smooth-faced man, with small, sleepy- 
 looking eyes, thick lips, and a set smile that was a cast be- 
 tween the simper of a monkey and the somniferous tran- 
 quility one sees upon the broad face of a dozing cat. His 
 hair, dark almost to black, was smoothed to a plain, un 
 ruffled surface ; he wore no mustache, whiskers, or beard, 
 yet for all the seeming openness of the fact if studied care- 
 fully there seemed something kept back and made sub- 
 servient to the easy character which the owner wished to 
 establish in society. That was Jasper Vermont. 
 
 His companion was of a very different order of hu- 
 manity. Tall, of exquisite proportion, of that reposeful, 
 leisurely grace which one generally attaches to royalty; 
 with a handsome and, what is more, noble face, stamped 
 with the old-world hauteur of his race, and rendered more 
 than commonly beautiful by his unfrequent but wonderful 
 smile; with bright, golden-hued hair that fell in short, 
 thick, luxuriant curls upon his white brow, and with eyes 
 that were at once piercingly searching and proudly tran- 
 quil, the contrast was heightened to a pitch almost of ab- 
 surdity. 
 
 That was Adrien Leroy, only son of Baron Leroy of 
 Barminster Castle, the idol of society, the toast of the 
 men, and the divinity of the female butterflies. 
 
 When a man is liked and looked up to by his male 
 friends, and worshiped by the women folk, there is some- 
 thing more than common in him, and something worthy 
 of attention. 
 
 Carefully dressed, as a man should be whose valet takes 
 a higher> salary than a first-class city clerk, with diamond 
 sleeve links, a suit of black pearl studs for jewelry, his 
 graceful, column-like neck free and unhampered by his 
 loose, well-setting collar, Adrien Leroy would have been 
 an exquisite but for that nameless air of dignity and high- 
 bred heroism which cast the foppery in the background 
 and brought the manhood to the front.
 
 Staunch of Heart. il 
 
 No sooner had the door swung behind them than a 
 small group had collected around the popular idol, and a 
 buzz of salutation arose like the hum of bees hovering 
 about a honey-laden flower. 
 
 With the genial, open-hearted smile, but with the half- 
 mournful, dreamy, and slightly weary expression in, 
 the dark, fathomless eyes, Adrien Leroy answered 
 the numerous questions, parried the as numerous 
 invitations to turn aside for a moment, and, still leaning 
 on Jasper Vermont's arm, made his way toward the table 
 where his friends were waiting. 
 
 "You may tell a man by his walk," says Machiavelli, 
 "not only by the tenor of his way through life, but by the 
 actual gait and mien." 
 
 Jasper Vermont's walk partook of the quiet, sleek tread 
 which is more obtrusive than a loud tramp and more art-i 
 noying. 
 
 Adrien Leroy trod the ground with the light, leisurely 
 tread of a man free, born to command; no hurry let 
 his motions be quick as they might; no uncertainty, 
 though he lingered to exchange a word, but the calm, 
 regular stride of a man strong in himself and of conscious 
 equality with, if not superiority to, his fellows. 
 
 "We are late !" he said, in a voice that was low but clear 
 and incisive as the fourth bell in a cathedral peal. "Blame 
 Jasper, who, if he is as hungry as I am, is punished in the 
 sinning. Soup gone and Chudleigh dispatching the last 
 ortolan! Jasper, we have arrived at the obsequies of a 
 good repast." 
 
 The rest the two having seated themselves joined in 
 his low, clear laugh, and Mortimer, whose brow always 
 lost something of its severity in Adrien Leroy's presence, 
 beckoned the waiter. 
 
 "Tell Antoine Mr. Leroy and Vermont have arrived. 
 
 "See, I am more thoughtful for you than you deserve, 
 and Antoine has kept back a fair quantity of the good the 
 gods have sent us. I dare not have mentioned it before, 
 or Chud would have devoured it in addition to his own. 
 And you have just come from Barminster, and how is the 
 castle looking, Jasper?" 
 
 "Beautiful!" replied Jasper Vermont, with a smile be-
 
 12 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 stowed impartially upon all, and that showed his white 
 teeth to perfection. "Beautiful. It's a charming view, 
 eh, Adrien ? Charming, but we saw little of it this visit 
 a flying one, a flying one. Ah, what, Shelton, you are an 
 epicure worthy of Dioclesian. We never get clear turtle 
 at the Alkestra like this, eh, Adrien ?" and with a repeti- 
 tion of the smile he nodded at his friend. 
 
 "No," said Adrien Leroy, looking up. "But we have 
 not our celebrated Mortimer on the committee. No won- 
 der they love you here, Mortimer ! And so the little colt 
 has lost the Norfolk steeplechase. I saw the news as I 
 came down." 
 
 "And you have lost how much, two thousand ?" said 
 Parselle. 
 
 "Five," said Jasper Vermont, answering for him, not 
 quickly, but just before Adrien could speak. 
 
 "Is it five?" said Leroy, with perfect indifference. "I 
 thought I had backed the Venus for more." 
 
 "And on the faith of that I backed her for a couple 
 of hundred," said Chudleigh, with a shrug of the shoul- 
 ders. "She is a beautiful creature, and now I suppose I 
 must buy her. Will you sell her ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Adrien, "you shall have him, my dear 
 Chud, for a song." 
 
 "Of a very few verses," again interrupted Jasper Ver- 
 mont, opening his lips with a smooth smile. "She is 
 sold." 
 
 "Sold to whom," said Adrien, in a tone that was almost 
 surprise. 
 
 The rest looked up in surprise ; the colt was an acknowl- 
 edged favorite of Adrien Leroy's and every one knew that 
 Chudleigh had asked for the refusal. 
 
 "Sold," echoed Chudleigh, looking rather disappointed 
 and glancing rather haughtily at the smooth, amiable face 
 opposite him. 
 
 "To the knacker. You forget, Adrien ; Fording threw 
 her and broke her leg at the last hurdle." 
 
 "Ah, so you told me; I had forgotten. Chudleigh. I 
 am very sorry, but you have saved your money. If 
 Fording could do nothing with her she was no use to you. 
 Have any of you seen the papers? Last night was the
 
 Staunch of Heart. 13 
 
 first of the new comedy at the Casket; has it gone well?" 
 
 Frank Parselle laughed. 
 
 "I was there, but I'm sure I couldn't tell you. Haidee 
 played finely all fire and effervescence. But they hissed 
 once or twice." 
 
 The others laughed. 
 
 "Lost on my horse and my new play ! That is luck. It 
 must be withdrawn." 
 
 "Certainly," said Jasper, comfortably. "Certainly." 
 
 "By Jove! what did you tell me the mounting cost?'* 
 said Manners, addressing Jasper, but glancing signifi^ 
 cantly at the others. 
 
 "Four thousand pounds," said Jasper, glibly, while 
 Adrien ate his fish with the most consummate indifference. 
 
 "Four thousand for four nights, that's about it. A 
 thousand each night. Ton my word, the public ought to 
 be grateful to you," said Mortimer, nodding at Leroy. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "Or I to them. No slight thing to sit through a bad 
 play. But how is it, Jasper ? You said it would run." 
 
 "I?" said Jasper, looking, not confused, but only too 
 amiable, which was the same thing with him. "No, not so 
 certainly as that ; I said I thought the thing well written, 
 eh, Mortimer?" 
 
 "Ah," said Mortimer, who had been watching him 
 keenly, "out in your reckoning, for a wonder. It is to 
 be hoped you didn't back your opinion in the matter of the 
 colt, to which I think you were also favorably inclined?" 
 
 "Yes," said Jasper, leaning back with an admirable air 
 of lazy contentment. "I laid my little usual stake, and 
 lost, of course." 
 
 "You should have hedged," said Mortimer, who knew 
 as a positive fact that he had done so. 
 
 "Ah, yes, but you know that I am so lazy, positively 
 lazy, that I ask myself is it worth the trouble, and I an- 
 swer no. So I let it go, and, hah ! hah ! it has gone !" 
 
 "Humph !" growled Mortimer. "Unfortunate Jasper !" 
 
 Unfortunate Jasper laughed again and filled his glass. 
 
 "I have no judgment," he said. "I am a man of no 
 ideas and I admit it. I confess it with regret. Now, 
 Adrien," and he stopped to smile over his glass at the
 
 i!4 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 grand, reposeful face of Leroy, where he sat talking to 
 Manners, "now Adrien is all acuteness; without him I 
 should go astray and be undone. Ha! ha! I am sup- 
 posed to look after his money affairs, but, by Jupiter ! it is 
 he who supplies the brains and I the hands. I am the 
 machine a mere machine, and he turns the handle !" 
 
 And laughing at his joke, he held up his glass for re- 
 plenishment. 
 
 "A pretty combination of talent," said Mortimer. "Try 
 that pate. I can recommend it. Now we give you the 
 credit for the tact and all that sort of thing-. We always 
 consider you as the brake upon Adrien's check-book." 
 
 "Ah, what a mistake!" said Jasper, dropping his fork, 
 and spreading out his fat hands with a gesture of amuse- 
 ment. "I have no firmness, but you will have it that I 
 am a business man, so well, I assume th virtue, though 
 I have it not. Ha ! ha ! This pate is excellent, Mortimer. 
 Rome would not have perished had you lived with the 
 last Caesar." 
 
 "And Adrien Leroy would not go to the dogs so quickly 
 if you did not show him the way," murmured the cynic, 
 inaudibly. 
 
 Then aloud: 
 
 "Finished? Let us go to the smoking-room. I am 
 dying for a cigar, and they shall take up another bottle 
 of Leroy's Johannisberg." 
 
 They arose, and, talking as they went, sauntered 
 through the saloon into the divan, where, depositing them- 
 selves on the luxurious lounges, each man with a cigar in 
 his mouth, and his favorite wine before him, the conver- 
 sation ran on. 
 
 Politics, scandal, fortunes of Adrien, the charms of 
 Haidee, the coming season, every topic that came up, was 
 caught and thrown from one to the other, Jasper Ver- 
 mont always seizing the ball when it seemed to droop, 
 and giving it another fillip. 
 
 Adrien Leroy spoke little, but when he did the rest un- 
 consciously listened silently, and with an evident desire to 
 hear his opinion. When he had finished Jasper was sure 
 to add some comment, concluding with, "Eh, Adrien ?" to 
 which Leroy would nod with the usual half-indifferent and
 
 Staunch of Heart. 15 
 
 weary assent, and then Mortimer would glance at the 
 others significantly. 
 
 The wine came and disappeared with greater rapidity, 
 the cynic warmed, grew talkative, and, as an inevitable 
 consequence, amusing. 
 
 Laughter arose languidly at first, then, increasing at 
 each sally from Chudleigh or Manners, and its retort by 
 Mortimer, louder and louder, until as it reached an al- 
 most incessant stream of merriment and enjoyment Jas- 
 per Vermont, with a lazy look all around, arose, and say- 
 ing, smoothly: 
 
 "I'm spoiling my dinner with laughing. Good-night! 
 No, I can't stay! Business to-morrow, and the early 
 biped, you know. Good-night, Adrien! I am with you 
 as the clock strikes twelve to-morrow. Good-night !" and 
 amid the answering chorus sauntered leisurely out, with 
 the smile soft and bland shining on his smooth, round 
 face like oil on a gun barrel. 
 
 Not by accident surely was his favorite cab at the door, 
 or if so very happily, for Mr. Jasper Vermont glanced at 
 his watch with a slight elevation of the eyebrows, jumped 
 into the vehicle and held up two fingers. The groom, re- 
 quiring no other directions, flicked the thoroughbred into 
 a swift trot, and Mr. Jasper Vermont was rolled away, 
 looking up at the club windows with the bland smile to the 
 last. 

 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A WOMAN'S TONGUE. 
 
 The rankest compound of villainous smell 
 
 Tliat ever offended nostril. SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont's groom guided the fiery colt up 
 St. James' Street, and with a whirl into one of the branch 
 thoroughfares, pulling him up almost on his haunches at 
 the door of a considerable-looking mansion, freshly 
 painted and handsomely curtained. 
 
 Jasper Vermont alighted, threw the one word "wait" 
 to the smart groom, and rang twice at the shining bell. 
 
 A footman opened the door, made a gesture of respect, 
 and in answer to Mr. Vermont's "At home yet, James ?" 
 replied : "Yes, sir ; will you walk up ?" and led the way up 
 the newly-carpeted staircase, redolent of patchouli and 
 glistening in the opaque whiteness of fresh paint and 
 plaster casts of heathen goddesses. 
 
 The walls were adorned though that is the wrong 
 word perhaps with pictures in the worst possible taste 
 and the most glaring colors. 
 
 As he reached the first floor an odor of baked meats 
 and festive cakes came out to meet him. 
 
 Jasper smiled and sniffed as if the perfume were fa- 
 miliar to him. 
 
 "Miss Levison at supper?'* he asked as James threw 
 open the door on the first floor, letting out fresh odor by 
 the action, and stood aside to let Mr. Jasper pass. 
 
 "Yes, sir, supper's just served." 
 
 "All right," said Jasper, and passed into a large room, 
 furnished with' the same disregard to taste and the same 
 liberality of color as distinguished the adornments of the 
 staircase. 
 
 In the middle of the glaring apartment, with the four 
 gaslights streaming down upon their black hair, sat two 
 ladies, discussing the origin of the savory perfume. 
 
 16
 
 Staunch of Heart. 17 
 
 "Oh", it's you, Jasper, is it?" exclaimed the younger of 
 the two, delivering the salutation with a glass of stout up- 
 lifted halfway to her mouth. "I thought it was your tread, 
 but I couldn't tell, you're so quiet on the pins/' and she 
 laughed in a harsh, vulgar strain that jarred upon the 
 nerves, or would have done if Mr. Jasper Vermont had 
 possessed such inconvenient luxuries. 
 
 Not only was the laugh vulgar, but the lady herself was 
 vulgar too. Beautiful as well, but of a beauty that was 
 entirely animal. There was more mind and soul in the 
 pork chops than in the bright eyes and raven hair of Miss 
 Haidee Levison. 
 
 Her companion was like the fellow in the ordinary pair 
 of soup tureens, the same in hair, dress, sensual mouth, 
 but older and more vulgar. She was a sister of the beau- 
 tiful Haidee and named Judith. 
 
 Both ladies were extravagantly and gaudily dressed, 
 and both were decked in jewels that for richness and in- 
 trinsic value might have made a countess* mouth water. 
 
 "Yes, it is I," said Mr. Jasper. "Pork chops again; 
 I -thought Leroy objected to them." 
 
 Both ladies laughed. 
 
 "Not the chops, but the smell that he doesn't like," saifl 
 Haidee. "He's so particular, you know. But he ain't 
 coming to-night, leastways he said he wasn't" 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Jasper, seating himself at the table, and 
 lifting a small bottle, which proved to be empty. "Is 
 there anything left to drink? I am thirsty, and the sight 
 of you girls at the stout set me off." 
 
 "Have some phiz," said Miss Haidee. "Ring the tell. 
 will you, Judith ? Give me another chop, and don't forget 
 the gravy. Well, what's the news, Jasper?" 
 
 "The question I was going to ask you," replied Jasper, 
 as the manservant brought in a bottle of champagne. 
 "How has the comedy gone?" 
 
 "Oh, beastly ! I told Leroy it would be squashed, and 
 yet I did my best, didn't I, Ju? The dresses were really 
 first-class, blue satin trimmed with silver, suit of pearls, 
 and the turquoise armlets. First rate, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, but I suppose the stupid people got tired of look- 
 ing at the blue satin at last."
 
 1 8 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Then they could have looked at me, I suppose," re- 
 torted Miss Haidee, laughing tartly. "I've no patience 
 with Adrien" (she pronounced the name with the prefix 
 of an "H"). "Why don't he have burlesque and some- 
 thing lively? I could make a do of it then. Comedy's 
 slow and drags. Plenty of fun and comic songs is all the 
 go now. Besides, I can dance." 
 
 "But can't act," said Jasper, with an amiable smile. 
 
 "Can't I? That's all you know about it!" returned 
 Miss Haidee, with a flash of anger. "Well, now, where 
 have you been?" 
 
 "To the Thesasian " 
 
 "But, by Jove! why didn't you come last night?" 
 
 "I had business which I won't trouble you with, my 
 fair Haidee," he replied, smiling. 
 
 "Won't you? You're mighty polite. I suppose you 
 were down at the castle Adrien, too. What were you 
 doing there?" 
 
 "Minding our own business," said Mr. Jasper, sipping 
 his wine. 
 
 "Close as a fox, you are," said Miss Haidee, looking 
 as if she would have liked to scratch him. "Where's 
 Adrien? Down there?" 
 
 "No, at the Thesasian ; I left him there with Mortimer 
 Shelton." 
 
 "I hate that man," interposed Miss Levison. 
 
 "So do I, but I don't say so," remarked Mr. Jasper. "I 
 left him there safe and sound for another hour or two, and 
 ran on to give you a word of warning. Judith, I think 
 you'd better go to bed, you look tired." 
 
 He broke off to address the other lady, who had sat 
 perfectly silent, devouring the chops and gazing from one 
 to the other. 
 
 She arose, hesitated for a moment, then left the room. 
 
 Jasper Vermont looked after her, just as he would have 
 looked at a useless piece of furniture in course of re- 
 moval, and refilled his glass, leaned back in his chair, and 
 regarded the flushed, handsome face of the woman fixedly 
 before resuming. 
 
 "Well ?" she said, striking the table with her fork, im- 
 patiently.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 19 
 
 / 
 
 "Haidee," said Mr. Jasper, taking out his toothpick and 
 speaking with calm and pleasant deliberateness, "there 
 was once a man who killed the goose that laid him golden 
 eggs, there was another who cut a bellows open because 
 it would not blow him over to Paris, there was another 
 who worried his horse until the animal, disgusted with 
 him, kicked him off into the ditch and bolted; but none 
 of all these foolish men attained to such a degree of folly 
 as Miss Haidee Levison bids fair to reach when she suc- 
 ceeds in worrying her prize donkey into kicking her to 
 the ground and leaving her in the mud." 
 
 "Don't be an idiot, Jasper, but speak out plain." 
 
 "I will, though not so plainly as you, I trust, my dear 
 Haidee. Plainly, then, divested of all metaphor, you are 
 killing your goose with marvelous rapidity. In other 
 words, you are making Adrien Leroy tired of you with 
 lamentable haste. May I venture to remark that when 
 one has a goose with such truly estimable peculiarities as 
 golden egg-laying that one should humor him? If he 
 dislikes pork chops, or rather the perfume of them, is it 
 wise to fill the house with Which he has provided you 
 with an odor of fried meat and onions sufficient to stifle an 
 elephant ? Is it not the sublimity of folly to stick plaster 
 casts of hideous form upon the staircase which your goose 
 who detests statuary as he does bad wine ascends 
 daily? Can anything be more suicidal than to thrust vul- 
 garity down the throat of your goose, whose refinement is 
 a byword among his fellow geese far and wide ? In short, 
 my dear Haidee, you are going the way to get the conge 
 from my foolish but rich young friend, Adrien Leroy." 
 
 The woman, who had beat a more rapid and louder 
 tattoo with each word, leaped to her feet at the last, and 
 with the fork clasped in one hand dashed the other upon 
 the table till the glasses rang again. 
 
 "Jasper," she hissed, with a vulgar oath, "you are 
 enough to drive me mad! Why don't you speak out? 
 Why can't you say what you mean ? What's the matter 
 with him ? Confound him ! What does he want ? Ain't 
 there a hundred other swells dying for me? Can't I 
 furnish a house as I like ? Can't I pick a bit of supper off 
 a chop or two if I like ? Can't I do what I like without 
 his delicate nose being turned up ? Am I going to starve? 
 Can't I do anythiag*"
 
 20 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "You can go to the deuce if you like, my dear," said 
 Mr. Jasper, with a really sweet smile. "I merely warn 
 you that you are on the road only on the road, that is all. 
 Have another chop, there's one left, and dab another bottle 
 of patchouli about the room if you must ; as you say, there 
 are more geese than one, and it is hard if one cannot 
 enjoy fried pork at one o'clock in the morning!" 
 
 Goaded almost to madness by the slow stream of aggra- 
 vation, the actress flung the fork upon the table, upsetting 
 a champagne glass with a crash, and pushed out her head 
 at him like a gaudy wood snake. 
 
 ''Jasper, what does all this mean ? What's your game ? 
 Are you playing the shuffle with me and Adrien? Are 
 you setting him agin' me ? I know you, you fox ; I hate 
 you when you smile like that, for I know you are at your 
 deep tricks again. What are you doing up at the castle 
 so often? Making yourself pleasant to the girl there, I 
 suppose. She ain't fond of a little scent and a chop or 
 two, and she can have real statues if she likes. And I 
 suppose you don't remind him of that? Oh, no! But 
 you mind your skin, Jasper. I don't take things as they 
 come, like Judith. You can't play fast and loose with 
 me. Shuffle him onto that Constance girl and, mark me, 
 I'll pay you back. I know something you wouldn't like 
 cried through a trumpet. You don't want me to go up to 
 your castle and open my mouth, do you ? You don't want 
 me to split upon your little game, I suppose? Well, then, 
 don't you play any of your deceitful tricks on Haidee 
 Levison, or I'll go straight to him and tell them all." 
 
 Jasper Vermont arose to his feet, moved more by her 
 looks than her words, and caught her arm. 
 
 There was something so terrible, so deadly in the sheen 
 of his green-gray eyes, so treacherous and murderous in 
 the curl of his thin lips, that the face of the woman 
 blanched, and she shrank back with a cry of fear, glanc- 
 ing at the knife which was touching Jasper's other hand 
 as it rested on the table. 
 
 At that moment the door opened and Adrien Leroy 
 entered. 
 
 In a second the scowl fled from Jasper's face, and, re- 
 taining the woman's arm still in his grasp, he said, with 
 a laugh:
 
 Staunch of Heart. 21 
 
 "You are no stouter; the bracelet will fit you. I can 
 feel that in the span." 
 
 Then, as he dropped her arm and turned to the tall 
 figure of his friend, added : 
 
 "Haidee has bet me that the new bracelet is too small ; 
 she thinks she is getting stout, and I have reassured her." 
 
 Adrien, hat in hand, nodded and looked at the table 
 with a glance that was half one of annoyance and dis- 
 gust. 
 
 "You are late," he said to Haidee, who uttered an 
 affected cry of delight, and ran to him. 
 
 "And the room smells pah ! Jasper, give Haidee the 
 draft of that deed. I am tired and am going home." 
 
 With a gentle but firm touch he put the woman aside, 
 looked around the room again, with the weary, far-off 
 gaze, the woman standing where he had put her from 
 him, with a scowl upon her treacherous face, and Jasper 
 leaning back with a smile, sweet, amiable, but significant, 
 upon his face.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 "HOME AT LAS T." 
 
 Oh, life, thou art a galling road, 
 
 Along a rough, a weary road, 
 
 To wretches such as I. BURNS. 
 
 Adrien Leroy paused to light a cigar, then, buttoning 
 liis opera cloak across his broad chest, descended the 
 stairs. 
 
 The footman, with a gesture of respect that almost 
 amounted to awe, preceded and opened the door for him. 
 
 With that grand, reposeful hauteur upon his magnifi- 
 cent face, the idol of. fashion passed into the street. 
 
 His cab had gone to the stables ; the night was bitterly 
 cold, and he thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, bent 
 his head slightly against the biting wind, and started at a 
 quick, swinging stride for his chambers. 
 
 "A wild night," he thought, looking up at the gas- 
 light, flickering in one of the street lamps. "A cruel 
 night for many a one. Thank heaven, it has cleared the 
 street." 
 
 Even as the words left his lips his half-dreaming, half- 
 mournful eyes rested upon a something leaning in the 
 shadow of a house porch its shrinking figure shrouded 
 in an old shawl, its face hidden in its hands. 
 
 Adrien Leroy stopped and turned to look at it with 
 that gentle earnestness which the women of his set found 
 so irresistible, and, turning from his path, strode up the 
 steps to where the girl crouched. 
 
 She heard his step, and lifted her face from her hands. 
 
 Expecting to see the usual face, terrible in its mockery 
 of gayety, and heartrending in its earnestness of woe, 
 Adrien Leroy felt a sudden shock of surprise pleasur- 
 able surprise. 
 
 The face was that of a girl of about seventeen, per- 
 fectly oval, dark almost olive, with large, full eyes, de- 
 
 22
 
 Staunch of Heart. 23 
 
 fiant but beautiful, and a mouth that but for a curious 
 hardness in the curve, might have been charming a beau- 
 tiful face, and, what was more, a fresh one. 
 
 He raised his hat slightly the Leroy fashion when talk- 
 ing to woman, dairymaid or countess and, dropping his 
 handsome head, said, quietly : 
 
 "My girl, this is late and a wild night for you to be 
 out. Are you not cold ?" 
 
 She stared at him, her eyes wonderingly but leisurely 
 resting, first upon his face, with the deep, gentle eyes, 
 then upon the diamonds at his wrist, and then back to his- 
 face again. 
 
 He repeated the question, and touched the hand a 
 long, well-shaped one, though blue with the cold that 
 was nearest him. 
 
 "You are cold, are you not, child?" 
 
 "Very," she opened her lips to answer, in a low but 
 firm voice, her eyes still fixed with admiring surprise 
 upon his face. 
 
 "I thought so," he said, straightening himself and 
 speaking with marvelous tenderness. "Where do you 
 live? Where is your home?" 
 
 "Cracknell Court," she replied, and let her eyes drop 
 to his hand, which was already feeling for his purse. 
 
 "Soho?" he asked. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "Have you no father?" 
 
 "No," she said, in exactly the same tone one of pa- 
 tient resignation that was almost defiant in its low firm- 
 ness. 
 
 "No mother?" 
 
 "No," she said. "Only Johann Wilfer." 
 
 Something, accent or expression, in the reply struck 
 Adrien Leroy, and he scrutinized her dark face for a 
 moment in silence. 
 
 "Are you English, my child?" he asked. 
 
 "English?" she repeated. "I suppose so. Nobody 
 said I wasn't. English? I suppose so. You are Eng- 
 lish, aren't you?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "Yes, too English to let you perish in the cold, my
 
 24 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 child," he murmured, inaudibly to her, and looking down 
 thoughtfully. It was his intention to help her, but how? 
 
 "Why have you left your home?" he asked. 
 
 "Johann came home drunk and beat me, and I came 
 out" 
 
 She dropped the flimsy shawl and held up one arm. 
 
 Underneath it there were three large bruises, showing 
 up cruelly distinct upon the white skin. 
 
 The aristocrat's eye flashed angrily while he wondered 
 at the firmness of the arm. 
 
 "Beat you, did he?" he said. "And not your father? 
 Whom else do you live with ? Have you no one to pro- 
 tect you ?" 
 
 "There's Martha; but she's deaf. It's very cold." 
 
 "Cruelly for you," he said, curtly but not unkindly. 
 "See, there is some money for you, but that will not 
 warm you " 
 
 She interrupted him with a laugh that was solemnly 
 ironical, and put back his hand with her small icy one. 
 
 "Johann '11 get it," she said, drawing her shawl around 
 her. "Johann gets everything." 
 
 "Excepting the blows," thought the aristocrat, dropping 
 the sovereign into his pocket and unbuttoning his coat. 
 
 "You will not go home," he said, "if I take you?" 
 
 She shook her head, and in doing so released a shower 
 of dark chestnut hair from the dingy shawl. 
 
 "No," she said, "not till morning. I shall be all right 
 then. Not till morning." 
 
 "Before then you will be dead with the cold," he 
 thought, taking her hand and looking up and down the 
 street in indecision. 
 
 She seemed to have heard his thoughts. 
 
 "I wish I was dead," she said, quietly, and with a 
 sharp, harsh laugh that jarred upon the refined senses of 
 the man of fashion, coming from such well-shaped lips 
 and backed by the bitter mockery of such deep, childlike 
 eyes. 
 
 The sentence decided him, however. 
 
 "I cannot leave you here, my girl," he said. "Money is 
 of no use to you. Will you come with me?" 
 
 He took off his coat as he spoke, and buttoned it around 
 tier light, supple form.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 25 
 
 She submitted passively, but looked with wondering 
 amazement at the rich black clothes and white shirt- 
 front 
 
 He held out his hand, and without a word she laid 
 her own cold one within it, and the two descended the 
 steps. They proceeded in silence for the length of two 
 large squares, then the girl stopped suddenly, wrenched 
 her hand from his and commenced unbuttoning the 
 coat. 
 
 He looked down at her with calm attention. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" 
 
 In answer she struggled out of the coat, and with a 
 flush on her face and a bright light in her eyes held it 
 up to him. 
 
 "I won't have it," she said, through her pale lips ; "you'll 
 be cold. 5 ' 
 
 Adrien Leroy smiled and quietly wrapped her in it 
 again. 
 
 She stopped with a stubborn look. 
 
 "I won't come," she said ; "you'll be frozen. I am used 
 to cold; you're not. I won't wear it." 
 
 "Keep it on, my girl," he said, in the low tones of com- 
 mand which none ever disobeyed. "I am stronger and 
 older than you are, and a man. I am not cold." 
 
 She hesitated a moment, but the tone and the smile 
 were irresistible, and, reluctantly returning her hand to his 
 grasp,' she walked on beside him with a light, springy 
 step that, owing to her badly shod feet, was a noiseless one. 
 
 Adrien Leroy kept her walking as quickly as he could, 
 for the cold was growing intense, and he could feel that 
 her little hand within his own was growing cramped. 
 
 But she was tired as well as half frozen, and, glancing 
 at her uncertain steps, he stooped and took her in his arms. 
 
 "We are nearly there," he said, smiling to reassure her. 
 "You are as light as a feather, child (lighter than friend 
 Johann's hand). We shall soon be in a warm room." 
 
 There she lay in his arms, her head against his spotless 
 shirt front, with the three priceless pearls. She seemed 
 perfectly content, perfectly assured, and nodded with a 
 trusting closure of the dark eyes. 
 
 Adrien Leroy was strong, and as he had said, the child's
 
 26 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 weight was but as a feather to his sinewy arms and broad 
 chest. He hurried on quickly, with long strides, but his 
 face was very earnest and very thoughtful. 
 
 "Where can I take her?" he asked himself. His steps 
 were bent for his chambers, and he could see the mansion 
 in which they stood rising in the street before him. "She 
 is an innocent child. Can I take her to my chambers 
 without injuring her poor shred of reputation? Yet what 
 else can I do ; no houses open, Johann of the strong arm 
 drunk and expecting his victim at home in Soho ? In she 
 must come with me, poor child." 
 
 Of course it never occurred to him to retrace his steps 
 and deliver her to the charge of Miss Haidee. That 
 would have been committing a greater cruelty than to have 
 left her to freeze in the stucco portico of the house in 
 the square. 
 
 Within a hundred yards of his chambers he stopped 
 short. 
 
 One other refuge remained : the refuge for the homeless 
 and helpless. He turned down the street at whose corner 
 he had paused, and rang the bell of the great prison house 
 of the poor. 
 
 An official, frocked and braided like a turnkey, drew 
 the rusty bolts and struck back a wicket. 
 "Well"?" he said, curtly. "What's up?" 
 "I want you to take this poor child for the night," said 
 Adrien, quietly. "I found her on a doorstep in Colman 
 Square." 
 
 The man looked hard, first at the aristocratic face of 
 the bearer, then at the dark one of the burden. 
 
 "Come, now.; that won't do," he said, half angrily, and 
 half with amusement. "It's rather late to play jokes o* 
 this sort. Take the gal home." 
 
 Adrien turned without another word, and the man, 
 laughing grimly, flung to the wicket. 
 
 Opening the door of one of the large mansions, Adrien 
 entered the hall and turned up the lamp. 
 
 Then, with the girl still in his arms, he walked up the 
 stairs, pushed open a door on the first floor, and entered 
 a room. 
 A low light was burning, held up hy a statuette of
 
 Staunch of Heart. 27 
 
 white marble, placed in a recess lined with pink satin. 
 
 Adrien turned up the light and set the girl down on 
 her feet. 
 
 "Home at last," he said, with a smile, "and now come 
 to the fire." 
 
 But the girl seemed turned to stone with astonishment, 
 and there was for her almost sufficient excuse. 
 
 No fortunate mortal dropping into the fairy palace of 
 King Goldenlove in a Christmas pantomime could be more 
 overwhelmed by the magnificence of his nev; quarters than 
 this half-frozen gypsy street waif was at the four walls 
 around her and the luxuries they contained. 
 
 Her large eyes wandered around from the velvet-draped 
 walls with their glistening ancient and modern gems all 
 small, as gems should be to the gold and delicately inlaid 
 furniture, to the exquisitely rose-tinted statuettes standing 
 clean and clearly against the rich color of the hangings, 
 to the cunningly cut Venetian glass, to the thousand and 
 one wonderful contents of the superb apartment, and 
 thence to that most beautiful of all, the face of its owner. 
 
 He smiled with faint amusement at her evident amazed 
 admiration, and, drawing a chair up to the fire that burned 
 brightly in the grate of polished steel and ormolu, sur- 
 mounted and surrounded by its mantel that was a marvel 
 even in its birthplace, Florence, said: 
 
 "Come and warm yourself." 
 
 With her eyes wandering again she trod delicately over 
 the thick Turkey-piled carpet and dropped with a sigh 
 into the chair. 
 
 "Give me your hands," he said, bending over her and 
 rubbing her blue hands. "Don't hold them near the fire 
 yet." 
 
 He had seen the monks of St. Bernard chafing a res- 
 cued wanderer, and knew the danger of too sudden and 
 fierce heat. 
 
 "That is better. They are warm now, are they not? 
 And now we will have some supper." 
 
 He turned from the fire and touched with his forefinger 
 a flaming ruby that burned and flashed on the forehead of 
 a marble Juno standing with a candelabra in her grasp. 
 
 No sound was heard, but in a few minutes the door
 
 28 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 opened noiselessly, and a thin, dignified manservant stood 
 in respectful attention. 
 
 "Let us have some supper, Norgate." 
 
 The slim gentleman in broadcloth made a profound 
 bow, and disappeared as he had entered, and his master 
 returned to the fireplace, leaning against the carved man- 
 tel and looking down at the handsome budding beauty 
 of the girl below him. 
 
 As yet she had not spoken. 
 
 Her eyes, riveted on the manservant while he had been 
 in the room now wandered, like tropical fireflies, over the 
 various splendors of the cabinet again. 
 
 Then suddenly she lifted them to the grave face above 
 her and said, in a low, awe-stricken whisper: 
 
 "Is this the Crystal Palace, if you please?" 
 
 Adrien Leroy, considerate of the child's feelings, sup- 
 pressed the smile. 
 
 "The Crystal Palace?" he repeated. "No, my child. 
 What made you think so?" 
 
 "I've heard them say the Crystal Palace was the most 
 beautiful place in the world, and I thought this must be 
 it Oh, it's lovely! Is that chain there real gold?" 
 
 "No," he said, "only to the eye no worse than a great 
 deal of human furniture. No, not gold, but here comes 
 something you require a great deal more than the pre- 
 cious metal even supper 1" 
 
 As he spoke Norgate, his man, entered, bearing a 
 large silver tray. 
 
 Setting it on the table, he spread out a choice supper 
 of hot, made dishes, truffles, grilled bones, salmi of par- 
 tridge, a carved fowl and various other delicacies which 
 he had either prepared by the all-powerful aid of a ma- 
 gician's rod at the short notice, or been keeping warm on 
 the chance of their being required. 
 
 Lifting the chairs to the table he disappeared again, 
 returning shortly with wine and choice, delicately-cut 
 glasses. 
 
 These he set on the table and, with the same respectful 
 inclination of the head, announced that supper was served. 
 
 His master dismissed him with a nod, thinking that the 
 would be less embarrassed if alone with him, and
 
 Staunch of Heart. 29 
 
 Norgate retired with the same expressionless face as if 
 the apparition of cold and ill-clothed girls in the dainty 
 apartment were of nightly occurrence. 
 
 Adrien brought a plate of salmi and placed it on a 
 low table before the girl. 
 
 "You are warm there," he said, "and comfortable, I 
 hope. And now I wonder which wine you would pre- 
 fer Johannisberg, Chateau St. Emillion, Vaumagnon. 
 There," and he poured out a glass of Burgundy. "If you 
 do not like it we can try another." 
 
 The great, dark eyes stared at him, and they grew less 
 perplexed but more childlike and gentle. The long, thin, 
 well-formed hands took up the knife and fork. 
 
 Adrien Leroy seated himself at the table, with his eyes 
 carefully directed from her, and pretended to set about 
 a hearty supper, to give her courage. By dint of helping 
 himself to several dishes and making a little fuss with 
 his knife and fork, he gave her confidence, and presently 
 glancing around saw that she had commenced upon the 
 salmi. 
 
 After a while she ate more boldly, stealing a glance 
 at him and the rooms at intervals a glance timid, won- 
 dering, and with some other expression that was as yet 
 not quite distinct enough to designate. 
 
 He arose after a while, filled her glass, and helped her 
 to another dainty. She ate a little, then laid down her 
 knife and fork, and fixed her eyes on the fire. 
 
 "Enough?" he said, taking her plate, and stroking 
 her hair back, his hand gleaming like marble against her 
 dark braids. "Are you warmer now, and happier?" 
 
 She looked at him thoughtfully. 
 
 "I must be dreaming," she said, and her eyes filled 
 with tears. "But I never dreamed of such a beautiful 
 place before. Do you often bring people out of the cold 
 into this lovely place?" 
 
 His face looked grave. 
 
 "Not often," he said, curiously. "Not as often as 
 I should, my child. You have not told me your name 
 yet What is it?" 
 
 "Reah," she said. 
 
 "Reah!" he repeated. "You are Spanish?"
 
 30 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 She did not understand him, and shook her Head. 
 
 "No father or mother, and only friend Johann, whom 
 you would be better without. Poor child! And what 
 does Johann do for a living?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "I don't know. He gets drunk." 
 
 "A liberal profession, and one with many eminent 
 members. And so there are many cold nights and hun- 
 gry days for poor Reah," and he sighed. 
 
 She looked at him with lowered eyebrows and tremu- 
 lous lips. 
 
 "Must I go now ? I am so happy." The lips trembled 
 more markedly. "Nobody ever spoke so kindly to me as 
 you do, nor ever gave me such nice things to eat. I 
 don't know why you did it. Must I go now?" 
 
 She arose as she spoke, and stood humbly but eagerly 
 hanging on his reply. 
 
 He put out his hand and led her to the chair again. 
 
 "No, Reah, not yet. You shall wait here until the 
 morning till the daylight, it's morning now and then 
 we will send you back and see if we can do anything 
 toward softening the rugged road for the future. Poor 
 child!" 
 
 She did not understand half his words, but a babe 
 could have comprehended the gentleness of his smile and 
 the tenderness of the action with which he placed a silken 
 embroidered pillow at her head, and a silver filigre foot- 
 stool at her feet. 
 
 She laughed up at him, with thoughtful, childlike eyes 
 until they filled with tears. He seemed to her a creature 
 natural to another world a higher world she had 
 scarcely dared to dream of visiting her troubled and 
 weary portion of the world terrestrial to overwhelm her 
 with his beauty and his gentleness. 
 
 Her heart beat fast, her lips were set firmly, but her 
 eyes were eloquent. 
 
 Adrien Leroy stood with his wineglass in his hand, 
 leaning against the mantel, his eyes fixed on the fire, 
 his face dreamily grave. 
 
 The falling of her arm on her lap aroused him. 
 
 "A beautiful child, with a promise of a more beautiful
 
 Staunch of Heart. 31 
 
 woman," he thought, looking at her. "Poor little thing, 
 how weary she is already! Poor and rich, young and 
 old, how soon the world's poison reaches us ! She sleeps 
 like a fawn. Reah, a Spanish name, and there is a Cas- 
 tilian olive on her cheeks. Poor child !" 
 
 Then he took his coat and hat, lit a cigar, and pre- 
 pared to face the cold again. 
 
 "A cruel kindness to give her food and steal her repu- 
 tation," he murmured. 
 
 And so, with a chivalry that would have excited the 
 wonder if not the mirth of the gay world in which' he 
 reigned monarch, Adrien Leroy passed into the wind, and 
 paced the cold streets to keep the breath of scandal 
 from a little street waif.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Pleasures are like poppies spread, 
 You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; 
 Or like the snowfall on the river, 
 A moment white, then melts forever. 
 
 When the sun rose, cold, bright and clear, Adrien 
 Lcroy retraced his steps through the neighboring square, 
 and returned to his chambers. 
 
 The elegant cabinet was empty. He looked around, 
 even flung the curtain which veiled the door of the ad- 
 joining room aside, but the bird had flown. 
 
 He summoned his man Norgate by means of the satyr's 
 ruby, and asked him where the child had gone. 
 
 With a shadow of surprise, the well-trained servant 
 replied that he was ignorant of her disappearance. 
 
 "I left her here, sir, asleep, when I removed the sup- 
 per things. She must have passed out on tiptoe." 
 
 Adrien nodded with calm weariness, and the servant 
 returned to his duties. 
 
 Adrien Leroy turned the heap of envelopes over with 
 his hand, smiled significantly with no abatement of weari- 
 ness at the many daintily shaped, scented ones, ai|d then 
 passed into the next room. 
 
 Exquisitely decorated and furnished as the other, but in 
 a softer, less brilliant style, it served as a dressing-room 
 to the bedchamber beyond. A bath of cold water, deep 
 and sparkling in the rays of the sun pouring through the 
 jealousies, stood in a recess. Adrien Leroy divested him- 
 self of his evening dress and plunged in. 
 
 A cold bath on a crisp winter morning is an excellent 
 substitute for sleep, and when the man of pleasure re- 
 entered the cabinet an hour after, attired in a dressing- 
 robe of violet velvet, his noble face looked fresh, un~ 
 faded and reposeful. 
 
 Breakfast chocolate, deviled kidneys, poached eggs, 
 
 38
 
 Staunch of Heart. 33 
 
 truffles and a Perigord pie, with the usual accompani- 
 ments of claret, Chateau Haut Brion vintage, coffee and 
 toast was on the table with covers for four. 
 
 As he entered Norgate was placing the bell-shaped 
 Moselle glasses upon the table. 
 
 "Covers for four? Who breakfasts here?" asked the 
 host, from whose mind the invitations and guests had 
 entirely departed. 
 
 "Le Due d'Olivier, Lord Standon and Mr. Paxhorn, 
 sir." 
 
 "Oh, ay I had forgotten, or rather I thought it was 
 tomorrow. You will not forget the glass of ale for the 
 duke?" 
 
 "It is here, sir," said the ever-attentive Norgate, mo- 
 tioning to a bottle of Bass on a side table. "Also Mr. 
 Paxhorn's Madeira." 
 
 Adrien Leroy nodded, and, with one foot on the chased 
 fender, idly opened his letters. 
 
 "Where do I dine tonight?" 
 
 "At the Marquis of Heathcote's, sir." 
 
 "At eight?" 
 
 "Nine, sir. Shall I put out the diamond set, sir?" 
 
 "No ; no jewelry," replied his master, absently. "Order 
 the new cob for two o'clock. With' a snaffle, I want to 
 see how he goes." 
 
 "I will, sir. I may mention, sir, that Perrier, the court 
 tailor, called for his account for the costumes made for 
 the Barminster bal masque." 
 
 "Refer him to Mr. Vermont." 
 
 "I have done so, sir, several times, but he persists in 
 his request to see you personally. It is a matter of dis- 
 count " 
 
 Adrien Leroy waved his hand with a gesture of im- 
 patience. 
 
 "Send him to Mr. Vermont I know nothing either of 
 his bill or his discount, nothing whatever." 
 
 The discreet Norgate bowed low and retired. 
 
 Adrien Leroy continued reading his letters, his white 
 hands carelessly extracting the inclosures from their en- 
 velopes and dropping them one by one, and often unread, 
 into the flame before him.
 
 34 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 A dash, clatter and rattle on the stones outside, the 
 flinging open of the door, interrupted him, and he came 
 forward to receive his guests. 
 
 "My dear Leroy, fresh as a daisy !" exclaimed the duke, 
 shaking hands with the young leader of English fashion 
 with empressement. 
 
 "Leroy always is," said the marquis, a fair-haired 
 scapegrace, who was sliding down the glaciers of life 
 to the abyss of ruin with the most graceful good-temper 
 and light-heartedness. "Nothing upsets Leroy." 
 
 "Save a bad dinner," added Algernon Paxhorn, the 
 latest literary lion and a fast friend, in more senses of 
 the word than one, of Adrien and the members of his 
 clique. 
 
 "We're punctual, and so is Norgate," said the duke, 
 as after the usual salutations the quartet took their places 
 at the table. 
 
 "And how went the new comedy?" 
 
 "Consult the papers," laughed Adrien Leroy. 
 
 "And how goes the fair Haidee?" 
 
 "As fairly as so dark a beauty can go," retorted her 
 owner. 
 
 "They tell me she surpassed herself the other night," 
 said Paxhorn. "A magnificent tigress with diamonds for 
 spots." 
 
 "Not her only blemishes," laughed Adrien, carelessly. 
 "But, duke, you have only just come from the road ; what 
 of the new steeplechase? Does my King stand a chance?" 
 
 "A chance !" echoed all three. 
 
 "The odds are four to one on him and few takers," 
 added the duke. 
 
 The young marquis stopped with his cup in his hand. 
 "That was yesterday morning. I left after you and 
 the money was being lifted. You can lay as many thou- 
 sands on him as you like, Leroy, and they will be taken." 
 
 "Oh," said Adrien, nodding carelessly. "Something 
 better in the field? I thought the roan was not 'to be 
 touched." 
 
 "And I also," said the duke. "I can't understand it; 
 the only new entry was a weedy, roughish-looking chest- 
 nut, which a little Yorkshireman listed in the afternoon. 
 'Holdfast/ they call him."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 35 
 
 "He'll require more hustling than holding," laughingfy 
 commented Paxhorn. 
 
 The marquis finished his coffee. 
 
 "I'd back the roan still for all the rough' chestnuts 
 in the world, Ad; there's nothing can touch him." 
 
 "So Jasper Vermont says," remarked Adrien, "and he 
 sfaould know." 
 
 "He's a good judge of a horse," admitted the duke, 
 who hated him; "a good judge of a horse, and a man 
 too ; but I don't like him." 
 
 "A pleasant fellow, too; always ready with a jest and 
 a story, and you enjoy that, duke." 
 
 The Frenchman nodded and twirled his waxed mus- 
 tache. 
 
 "True, when the jest and the story are told con amore, 
 but Jasper Vermont's always fetches its price. That 
 man never opens his mouth but with a purpose." 
 
 "That he may close it again," laughed Paxhorn. 
 
 Adrien Leroy's face darkened the slightest in the 
 world. Jasper Vermont was his friend and an ill word of 
 him he reckoned almost as a disparagement of himself. 
 
 "You misjudge him, duke," he said. 
 
 "Possibly," said the duke, courteously. "I cannot see 
 what you find so engaging in him. But, putting Mr. 
 Vermont aside, there can be no two opinions respecting 
 the rissoles. Sarteri is a possession I positively envy you. 
 There is not another chef in England who understands 
 breakfasts as he does." 
 
 "None," echoed the marquis. "If for nothing else, 
 Adrien will gain immortality through his cook. By the 
 way, have you heard of the viscount's misfortune? He 
 nearly lost Girardot. The poor viscount was in despair 
 when the genius gave him notice." 
 
 "Why did he want to go ? Was the salary insufficient ? 
 Were not Monsieur Girardot's apartments to his liking? 
 Could he not alter any of the kitchen arrangements to 
 his fancy?" 
 
 "No ; the salary was large, the great genius admitted ; 
 the apartment, the brougham, the kitchen were excellent ; 
 but Monsieur -Girardot's feelings sensitive as became 
 a genius would not permit him to dress liver and bacon,
 
 36 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 a dish of which the viscount is particularly fond. What 
 was to be done? Liver and bacon or Girardot? The 
 viscount chose the cook and the dish will never more 
 grace the Bonchester table." 
 
 "Poor viscount !" exclaimed Paxhorn, after the laughter 
 had subsided. "It reminds me but there, anecdotes are 
 too heavy for breakfast, and spoil this Haut Brion. 
 What wine have you, Adrien nectar of the gods!" 
 
 "This is from the emperor's cellar," said Adrien, quietly. 
 "We bought the whole lot of it, did we not, Norgate ?" 
 
 "The whole, sir," replied the valet, refilling the great 
 author's glass. 
 
 "Oh, give me your divine malt!" exclaimed the duke. 
 "I have no palate for the blood of the vine. Here," as 
 Norgate opened the bottle with a pop and poured the 
 amber liquid into the long, slender glass which the duke 
 held, "here is strength, vivacity, sparkle. It is wit and 
 wisdom condensed. Ah!" and with a long breath he 
 set the glass down emptied. 
 
 The marquis laughed. 
 
 " 'Wine, weeds and women' are reversed with you, 
 duke. 'Bass, briar and Baltic' is your motto." 
 
 This raised a laugh, in which the duke, who owned a 
 yacht and was as devoted to cut cavendish as he was to 
 bottled ale, joined heartily. 
 
 Jest followed jest, the laughter grew more frequent. 
 
 Norgate, when the repast was disposed of, cleared 
 away the remains with the noiseless rapidity of a genii. 
 A card table of ormolu, inlaid with ebony and mother-of- 
 pearl, was opened, and the four were soon deep in lans- 
 quenet 
 
 Adrien Leroy was fond of gambling, liking it for the 
 excitement only. The money was its least inducement. 
 He never cared, seldom knew, if he lost or won; the 
 game over, all interest had vanished and the results were 
 matters of indifference to him. 
 
 This morning, cheered and exhilarated by the rare 
 wine, they played high. Leroy and the duke lost heavily 
 as stakes go, a matter of a thousand pounds, but Adrien 
 Leroy tossed the notes, which he took from a small 
 drawer in the table, unlocked and unprotected, with a 
 light lau ' ~H 3, ireless smile.
 
 Staunch of H'eart. 37 
 
 "A close run, duke ; had they not played the knave we 
 should have won. Another hand?" 
 
 "No," laughed the duke, glancing at the timepiece, up- 
 held by a bronze figure of the inexorable Father. "No, 
 I have broken faith with Lady Merivale by half an hour." 
 
 "What is it picture galleries, duke?" laughed the 
 marquis. 
 
 "Yes," replied the duke, "I promised her ladyship to 
 escort her and three other charming mademoiselles to the 
 winter exhibition." 
 
 "Ah," laughed Paxhorn. "I see the grim shade of 
 matrimony hovering over your head. Beware!" 
 
 The duke arose with a shrug of the shoulders and a 
 good-natured laugh. 
 
 "Thanks, Pax; I'll remember, be where I will." 
 
 "Atrocious!" exclaimed Adrien, shaking hands and 
 pointing to a cigar box. "Leave me with a light in your 
 mouth, if you haven't it in your head, Standon." 
 
 When they had gone the host stood looking at the 
 empty chairs absently. 
 
 "What next?" 
 
 Norgate answered the unspoken question by entering 
 and announcing that the new! cob was at the door. 
 
 As he descended the stairs Mr. Jasper Vermont en- 
 tered the hall. 
 
 "Ah", just in time," he said, with his amiable smile. 
 "Where is it the Park or the Richmond Road?" 
 
 "Neither. I really don't know," said Adrien, shaking 
 the smooth, fat hand of his homme d'affaires. "Have you 
 seen the cob? What do you think of him?" 
 
 "Worthy even of the Leroy stables," replied Jasper, 
 walking with the owner to the door and regarding the 
 showy horse with head drooped aside. 
 
 "Capital. By the way, I have just left Haidee in tears. 
 Poor girl, repentance followed close upon repletion. She 
 vows and promises to abstain from pork chops and pat- 
 chouli and prays for the return of your smiles." 
 
 Leroy smiled rather gravely. 
 
 "What has Haidee done to gain so eloquent an advo- 
 cate, Jas ? Poor girl ! Where's the need for pity ? Pork 
 chops are natural to such appetites. Enough of her, and
 
 38 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 'all her kind ; I am not fickle in gifts, at least whatever 
 'I may be in the matter of love. But, Jas, what of this 
 rough chestnut they have entered for the steeplechase?" 
 
 Jasper Vermont dropped his thick white eyelids over 
 his dark, restless, little eyes for a moment, then raised 
 them with a laugh. 
 
 "Do you mean the screw entered yesterday, or the day 
 before by a Yorkshireman ? Oh, he is all right; can't 
 run the course, I should think, let alone the last rise. 
 Nothing can touch the roan. I'm a poor man, as you 
 know, sir, or I'd cover King Cole's back with guineas." 
 
 "Do it for me," said Leroy, with his careless laugh, 
 and, passing down the steps, vaulted into the saddle. 
 
 "What! another thousand?" said Jasper, in a lower 
 voice almost an eager one. 
 
 "Two, if you like," said the princely owner, and with 
 a wave of his hand as a signal for the groom's release of 
 the horse's head and adieu to Jasper, he trotted off. 
 
 Jasper Vermont looked after him with a smile; then, 
 stroking the place where a mustache would have been a 
 relief, passed up the stairs. 
 
 Entering the cabinet, he glanced at the cards and the 
 wineglasses with an evil look that vanished or changed 
 into the old smile as Norgate entered the room. 
 
 "Breakfast ?" asked Mr. Vermont. 
 
 "Yes, sir. The duke, Marquis of Standon, and Mr. 
 Paxhorn." 
 
 "Lansquenet, too," said Mr. Vermont. 
 
 "Yes, sir, and Mr. Adrien lost." 
 
 "That's quite an unnecessary addendum," said Mr. 
 Vermont, putting his hat on with the pleasantest smile in 
 the world. "Quite unnecessary. Mr. Adrien always 
 does, Norgate, always does." 
 
 Meanwhile the victim of ill luck rode through the 
 great squares into the noise, bustle and confusion of Ox- 
 ford Street. 
 
 "Soho, Cracknell Court? Yes sir; first opening to 
 your left," replied a man, of whom Adrien Leroy had
 
 Staunch of Heart. 39 
 
 asked direction, and the horse's head was turned toward 
 the point indicated. 
 
 Cracknell Court was small, evil-smelling, and swarmed 
 with children. 
 
 Throwing the reins to a post lounger, the man of pleas- 
 ure, to whom dust, noise and evil smells were things car- 
 rying absolute pain, entered the den and asked for Mr. 
 Johann Wilfer. 
 
 "There he is," said an urchin with the years of an in- 
 fant and the wan, pale face of an old man. 
 
 Adrien Leroy turned to a man leaning against an open 
 door, and touched his hat. 
 
 Kings, cardinals and gentlemen of blue blood are some- 
 times very wicked, but they are always polite. 
 
 "Am I speaking to Mr. Johann Wilfer?" he said, 
 quietly. 
 
 "You are," said the man, taking the begrimed pipe from 
 his equally begrimed lips, and staring with bloodshot 
 eyes at the handsome, high-bred face and princely figure. 
 
 "Can you tell me if a young girl named Reah returned 
 to you safely this morning?" he asked, fixing his deep, 
 stern eyes upon the shifting, bloodshot ones of the man. 
 
 "Reah, d'ye mean?" replied the man. "Ain't seen her 
 for months. She ran away last June. An awful young 
 thief. Stole my Sunday togs and her aunt's best bonnet. 
 That's all I knows about her." 
 
 Adrien Leroy looked long and fixedly at him, then 
 turned away. 
 
 As well expect to extract juice from a grindstone as the 
 truth from one so expert in falsehood. 
 
 Mr. Johann Wilfer blinked his eyes like an owl, gave a 
 little sigh of relief as the aristocrat released him from the 
 piercing gaze, and stepped out on to the pavement to get 
 a last view of him as he mounted the cob. 
 
 Then, with a leer at the sky, he stumbled up the rickety 
 stairs into the first-floor room and confronted a girl who 
 sat with her pretty head leaning against her hand, and 
 said, with a malevolent chuckle : 
 
 "So that's your game, is it? You're goin' in for swells 
 right away, are yer, my gal ? Got your name pat as a poll 
 parrot. 'Reah/ quite familiar and friendly. Knows all
 
 40 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 my private business, I dessay. I'll break every bone in 
 yer body." 
 
 He stumbled toward her where she stood transformed 
 from deadly indifferent despair to vivid color and light at 
 the allusion to her benefactor and made a grab at her 
 splendid hair. 
 
 But, alert and lithe as a leopardess, she stepped back and 
 bounding across the table slipped past him and down the 
 stairs, to the head of which he pursued her, looking over 
 the banister and launching forth a long and rich volley of 
 curses.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE GODDESS OF PLEASURE. 
 
 The butterfly the ancient Grecians made 
 
 The soul's fair emblem, and its only name 
 
 But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade 
 
 Of mortal life! For in this earthly frame 
 
 Ours is the reptile 's lot, much toil, much blame, 
 
 Manifold motions making little speed, 
 
 And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed. 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 There was a grand ball at Lady Merivale's, and at 
 twelve o'clock the countess, surrounded by a cordon of 
 notabilities, might have been considered in the height of 
 her glory. 
 
 But she was not, for among the handsome faces of her 
 petite court she missed one, handsomer than them all. 
 
 Eveline, Countess of Merivale, was a beautiful woman, 
 one of the leaders of fashion, ambitious, with one great 
 object in life, and that was to enslave and retain as at- 
 tendant cavalier the monarch of society, Adrien Leroy. 
 
 Lord Merivale, Earl of Conybeare, was held in the 
 light of a useful appendage by his beautiful countess, an 
 encumbrance slightly tiresome but inevitable to the 
 great Conybeare diamonds. 
 
 H^was fond of his farm, detested society, loved his 
 shorthorns and though a courteous gentleman and every 
 inch an English peer was rather bored than not by his 
 charming wife. 
 
 Certainly Eveline Merivale did not love her lord, and, 
 
 'as certainly, if the truth must be told, she did not love 
 
 Adrien Leroy ; but then it was the sauce piquante to her 
 
 brilliant existence to fancy and make believe that she did. 
 
 It was an amusement to correspond in cipher with the 
 languid, aristocratic Apollo. It gave a charm and a dash 
 of ecstasy to the otherwise monotonous luxury of exist- 
 ence to plan meetings with him at the houses of convenient 
 relatives, beneath the shades of Brierly Park Beeches, in 
 
 41
 
 42 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Louis Quartorze rooms at Richmond, and to dawdle 
 through summer afternoons exchanging Tennysonisms 
 and diluted Owen-Meredithisms with the almond-eyed, 
 golden-haired son of the house of Barminster. Not for 
 the world would her ladyship raise a scandal; she loved 
 her diamonds that was certain far better than she loved 
 her attendant cavalier; she prized her position as Coun- 
 tess Conybeare even above the little illicit meetings, flirt- 
 ings and De Mussetisms. 
 
 Vanity was at the bottom of it no doubt, for it was a 
 grand thing and a mighty to drag the godlike Adrien 
 through the brilliant ranks of fashion at her chariot 
 wheels. 
 
 So that at twelve o'clock, though the smile was serenely 
 placid upon the low, white forehead and ripe, parted lips, 
 Eveline Merivale was impatient and anxious at heart, and 
 beneath the heavy folds of her thick dove-colored satin 
 the little, white-shod feet were beating a restless tattoo. 
 
 The saloons were hot, though not crowded, for the 
 countess knew better than to spoil the pleasure of two 
 hundred by the addition of a third. 
 
 The glorious band was sending a delicious stream of 
 melody from the music gallery; the silks, satins and jewels 
 were glimmering and flickering in the mazes of the deux- 
 temps. 
 
 The band of courtiers wavered, changed, passed away, 
 and their places around the countess were as quickly filled 
 .up. 
 
 Half-past twelve, and she grew more impatient, the 
 tattoo quickened with the music, the dark, lustrous eyes 
 shone not angrily that would be bad breeding bat a 
 trifle less serene. 
 
 "The countess looks riled," said a waltzer as he passed 
 with his partner on his arm. 
 
 "Riled! what a word," replied the lady, gathering her 
 white silk around her. 
 
 "And yet how descriptive and true a one," retorted 
 Mortimer Shelton. "Riled is the word, and riled is the 
 feeling. See how she smiles at little Lord Hatley; she 
 wishes him anywhere, I know. Strange, when you ladies 
 are savage, you should take such pains to hide it."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 43 
 
 The lady laughed she was a bright little brunette, 
 flushed with the dance and thoroughly happy. 
 
 "Why should we wear our hearts upon our sleeves for 
 such daws as the Honorable Mr. Shelton to peck at? 
 Our little art of dissembling is all we possess, you know. 
 And so you think the countess looks angry? So she 
 does; but how beautiful she is!" 
 
 "Marvelous," said the cynic, adding, as his partner, 
 Lady Chetwold, of Chetwold Park, looked up, "marvel- 
 ous that one woman should praise another's looks." 
 
 "Greater marvel still when men shall give us credit 
 for a little justice and mutual charity. But tell me you 
 know everything is Mr. Leroy to be here tonight?" 
 
 "I should soon lose my character for omniscience if I 
 professed knowledge of Adrien's movements, Lady Chet- 
 wold. He was to have been here tonight, but whether he 
 will be is quite another matter. Perhaps Lady Merivale 
 is as uncertain as I am, and that may explain the sweet- 
 ness of the smile which I see has at last extinguished 
 poor little Hatley." 
 
 "You are very dreadful," laughed her bright little lady- 
 ship, fanning herself. "I am almost afraid of you, Mr. 
 Shelton. Cynics are so wicked." 
 
 "And women love wickedness," said Mortimer, stifling 
 a yawn behind his white hand. "The prince is here to- 
 night. Have you seen him?" 
 
 "Yes," said Lady Chetwold. "I have him down for 
 the next if he remembers it ; he is always so forgetful." 
 
 " 'Put not your trust in princes/ you know," laughed 
 Mortimer. "And if his highness does not claim you 
 which I am certain he will do, or I should not offer will 
 you give it to me ?" 
 
 "No, certainly not," was the quick retort. "Caesar aut 
 nullus." 
 
 "Caesar or nothing! Very well," laughed Mortimer. 
 "Here he comes, surrounded, of course." 
 
 Then as his highness came to claim his partner the 
 Honorable Mortimer, with an exquisite languor, deliv- 
 ered her up, adding as he did so: 
 
 "Here comes one greater even than Caesar look?" 
 
 Lady Chetwold followed the direction of his eyes and
 
 44 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 saw that all heads were turned toward the silken-hung 
 entrance. 
 
 An indescribable hum or buzz, followed by the half beat 
 of silence that always precedes great men or great events, 
 ran through the room ; then, as the silks and satins parted 
 a little Adrien Leroy was seen advancing up the pol- 
 ished, mirror-like floor. 
 
 A slight flush, too slight to be noticed, lit up the face 
 of the countess as, making straight for the hostess, the 
 man of the day came leisurely through the throng. 
 
 Well worthy of the homage so fully paid him he looked. 
 
 Adrien's beauty was of a high order of birth and blood 
 as well as feature. There was nobility blended with the 
 grace ; patrician was stamped on the grand, haughty face 
 and proclaimed itself in the perfectly molded limbs. 
 
 Put him in a carter's smock, thrust a whip in the long, 
 white, shapely hand, and he would seem a king in robe 
 of samite with a scepter in grasp. 
 
 Tonight Norgate had pushed back the heavy golden- 
 bronze hair from the white forehead, had set priceless 
 pearls in the wrists and snowy shirt front, had with mar- 
 velous nicety circled the column-like neck with a loose, 
 graceful collar and tied the thick band of lawn in a mas- 
 sive knot under the throat. 
 
 A greater than Caesar, certes, for this king needed no 
 court; nothing could elevate or lower him. He was the 
 idol of society, the absolute ruler of fashion. 
 
 "That is he!" 
 
 "An Oriental beauty, and yet so English, so massive," 
 muttered a Spanish ambassador. 
 
 "Ay, those limbs are built like steel, monseigneur, and 
 I have seen that thin lady-hand break down the guard of 
 Francoise Deullot himself," responded an English dip- 
 lomat. 
 
 With serene, bland calm, utterly unconscious, or at least 
 utterly indifferent to the attention and admiration that ac- 
 companied his every step, Adrien Leroy bent over the 
 countess' hand with his kingly courtesy, murmuring in 
 his clear, musical tones his greeting ; then turned to shake 
 hands with the prince, who, as profound an admirer of 
 the popular idol as the lesser lights, had paused to ex- 
 change a word before the dance commenced.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 45 
 
 Adrien sank into the velvet lounge beside the countess. 
 
 "You do not scold me, belle reine," he said, in his low, 
 soft voice, "and yet I could lay the blame on other shoul- 
 ders. I have been dining with Pomfret, the duke and 
 Vignard at the club. You know Vignard's dinners 
 simply perfection. Pomfret was in the best possible form 
 and escape was impossible. But now I am here at last. 
 Have you saved me a dance ?" 
 
 "You do not deserve one," she said, looking down upon 
 him, all her impatience and irritation melting beneath the 
 magic of his smile and the music of his voice. 
 , "It is the one great mercy, ma belle," he retorted, "that 
 one does not get one's deserts in this world." 
 
 She gave him the programme with a half sigh. 
 
 "I saved you the next," she said, "foolish as ever." 
 
 "Gracious and sweet as ever," he said. "How should 
 my rose be otherwise?" 
 
 She looked before her dreamily, letting the soft phrase 
 go and pass unheeded. 
 
 "You've been to Barminster?" she said, presently. 
 
 He nodded, and settled himself more comfortably. 
 
 "Yes," he said. 
 
 "The baron sees more of his darling now," she said. 
 "I thought filial affection never ran very hotly in the 
 Leroy blood." 
 
 "Nor does it," he said, with' a low laugh. "Business, 
 my dear Eveline, odious business, into which Jasper per- 
 sistently inveigles me." 
 
 "I thought Mr. Jasper Vermont was the new machine 
 through which all your business troubles were manipu- 
 lated." 
 
 "So thought I," he said. "But one must turn the handle 
 even of machines. There are signatures and other forms 
 which must be gone through, at least Jasper says so." 
 
 "And how is the baron?" she said. 
 
 "Well," he replied. 
 
 "And Lady Constance?" she said, with' the slightest 
 dash of cold restraint in her voice. 
 
 "Also well," he replied, nodding to a man who entered. 
 
 "She is staying at the castle, I suppose?" said the 
 countess, with an indifference almost too marked.
 
 46 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, absently ; then added : "You do not 
 ask after King Cole." 
 
 "Ah, no. He shares the general good health, I trust?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, with a smile. 
 
 "He will win, you still think ?" she said. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he replied. "Vermont says there is nothing 
 in the field worthy to be named with him." 
 
 The countess raised her eyebrows and examined the 
 miniatures on her fan. 
 
 "This Mr. Vermont seems a wonderful man. You trust 
 him in matters of business and the stable. A connoisseur 
 of wine, thoroughbreds, and a master of precis and le- 
 galities ; a wonderful man !" 
 
 "Yes/' he said, with his low laugh, "Jasper is a won- 
 derful fellow. Jasper has brains. Nothing comes amiss 
 to him. With half the worry he wrestles with daily I 
 should be in my grave. He is an invaluable friend and 
 the gods have been kind in bestowing him on me." 
 
 The countess looked straight before her, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 "Come," said he, as the first bars of a Strauss valse 
 floated from the gallery, and, with a sigh of enjoyment, 
 she arose for the waltz she had reserved for him. 
 
 "No one has my step like you," she breathed, when 
 they paused for rest. "Adrien, shall I back King Cole 
 for another thousand?" 
 
 The two sentences were rather incongruous, but they 
 were curiously characteristic of her ladyship. The love 
 of intrigue and a well-bred, pretty little partiality for matt- 
 ing money by a little betting on the turf and speculation 
 in the money market, both "sub-rosa," of course, were the 
 two principal traits of the countess' character. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he said, as they started again. "Jasper has 
 put two thousand more of mine on today. And there he 
 is," he added, as the sleek, carefully dressed figure of Mr. 
 Vermont entered the saloon. 
 
 Mr. Vermont did not dance. He was one of those men 
 whom you could not imagine as threading the mazes of a 
 cotillon or swimming in circles to three-four time. 
 
 But though Mr. Jasper Vermont could not dance he 
 was always welcome in every ballroom.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 47 
 
 The great ones of May Fair would as soon have thought 
 of omitting the great name of Adrien Leroy from their 
 invitation list as that of his friend, Mr. Jasper Vermont. 
 
 Whatever the hour, however mixed the company, Mr. 
 Vermont had always a smile, a jest, or a new and piquant 
 scandal. 
 
 In the smoking room he would rival Mortimer Shelton 
 in good-natured sarcasm. In a dowager duchess' boudoir 
 he would flavor the five o'clock tea with the neatest bon- 
 mot and the spiciest demolition of her grace's nearest 
 friend. 
 
 Nothing came amiss to him, as Adrien Leroy had once 
 said, in his indolent, graceful way he was a universal 
 genius, a cyclopedia of the arts and sciences, cool of head, 
 strong of hand and ready of wit. 
 
 To the last quality some of the insolent aristocrats could 
 bear witness, for with all Mr. Jasper Vermont's amiable 
 smile, he could resent, smiling still, an impertinence, and 
 deal back a tongue stroke with the sharpest word-fencer. 
 
 Tonight he was at the countess' ball for no purpose, 
 apparently, but to enjoy the bright colors of the scene and 
 the gayety of the atmosphere. His sharp little eyes were 
 like pretty snakes behind their heavy lids, his little, fat 
 hands clasped each other behind his back in a mutual 
 caress of confidence, and his thick neck wagged his smooth 
 head and face to the rhythm of the music, as if hands, 
 neck and face thoroughly enjoyed it. 
 
 Mortimer Shelton came upon him thus, and muttered : 
 "Vishnu gloating over the destined! victims!" to hHs 
 neighbor. 
 
 But Mr. Jasper did not hear him or if he did he took 
 no notice, and smiled on till the passers-by seemed bathed 
 in the effulgence of his universal benediction. 
 
 The small hours came on and the carriages crashed and 
 crowded in the streets and squares around the house, that 
 looked like a huge lantern with the light streaming in 
 great, glaring floods through the huge windows. 
 
 In the crush Leroy, with the Marchioness of Engleton 
 on his arm, came against Mr. Jasper Vermont. 
 
 "The brougham is at the corner. Supper at St. James*, 
 you remember ?"
 
 48 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Leroy nodded. 
 
 "Ah, yes, very well," and they were parted again. 
 
 "The Marchioness of Engleton's carriage!" shouted 
 the groom of the hall, and through the long line of foot- 
 men, towering in his graceful height a foot above the titled 
 aristocratic throng, Adrien Leroy Steered the marchioness 
 to the carriage, stood bareheaded until it had moved on, 
 and then, nodding languid good-nights to the shower of 
 farewells that were eargerly bestowed upon him, strolled 
 to the corner, where his night brougham stood waiting. 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont, who always managed to penetrate 
 the densest crowd owing to the oil in his composition, 
 Montague Shelton said was already at the door, looking 
 at the horses, and fumbling for his cigar case. 
 
 Adrien Leroy stood for a moment, with his hands thrust 
 into the pockets of his white beaver overcoat, looking at 
 the struggling crowd, a smile of half -contemptuous, half- 
 puzzled amusement on his noble face. 
 
 "Look, Jasper," he said, nodding, with a curl of the, lip 
 that was more weary than scornful. "Look at them. It is 
 hard work. And they call it pleasure live and die for a 
 few hours nightly in a crowded, poisoned room, and a 
 hand-to-hand struggle in the dark and mire of the streets 
 afterward. Pleasure ! And there's no prophet to rise and 
 proclaim it madness !" 
 
 "No," laughed Mr. Jasper. "Prophets know better. 
 We should stone them, as we always have done, ever since 
 this exquisite conglomeration of folly, 'the world/ was set 
 rolling. Prophets! We should not profit by them, I 
 fancy!" 
 
 Adrien Leroy laughed. 
 
 "Your alchemy is a potent one, Jasper mine. It turns 
 all things to jest," he said, stepping into the brougham. 
 
 "The truest metal of the world's word coinage, after 
 all," said Mr. Vermont. "Everything goes down before 
 it states, dynasties, and a woman's reputation." 
 
 The splendid horses a recent purchase of their lordly 
 master pawed, reared and plunged, then sped away, 
 their iron-plated hoofs striking the round stones as if in 
 scorn of all things earthly, and the two moralizers on the 
 vanity of the fair were driven to a fresh booth.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 49 
 
 Then, when the carriage was lost in the darkness, and 
 swallowed up by innumerable others rolling in the same 
 direction, from out of the shadows of the tall stone pillars 
 of the Conybeare mansion stepped the lithe figure of a 
 girl. 
 
 In the glare of the salon lights she looked as beautiful as 
 an Egyptian lotus flower her dark olive skin shining in 
 that rich, dusky tint ; her large, deep eyes fixed fawn-like 
 upon the tiny, twinkling lamps of the departing vehicle. 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 The lips half parted seemed to breathe a prayer or a 
 blessing in their tremulous movement, and the hand 
 small and well formed was pressed against the shapely, 
 graceful bosom with firmness of restraint. 
 
 "How beautiful he is !" she murmured, lost to all sound 
 the crowd near her, and lights beating upon her. "How 
 beautiful, and how good ! Oh, if I could follow him be 
 near him!" 
 
 She turned with a sigh, and found herself face to face 
 with a small group of men, fresh from the heat of the ball- 
 room, and thirsty for some fresh excitement. 
 
 "Ah, pretty one !" exclaimed one of them. " Alone and 
 stargazing. Come, here are mortals thirsting for a 
 glimpse of those dark eyes." 
 
 He seized her arm not ungently, but with the playful 
 cruelty of a pleasure-hunter, and drew her to him. 
 
 "Dark eyes, indeed queen of night," he added, as, 
 heedless of her struggles, he drew her out of the shadow 
 into a patch of light. "A Cleopatra, with the addition of 
 godlike youth. Estcourt, what a prize! Will you give 
 me a kiss, pretty one?" 
 
 Almost before the question had left his lips she raised 
 her white, muscular arm and struck him across them. 
 
 So sudden, so unexpected was the blow that he loos- 
 ened his grasp on her arm. 
 
 She snatched herself free and darted like a swallow 
 into the gloom. 
 
 Pursuit was useless, and the persecutor, with a puzzled 
 and amused laugh, rejoined his friends. 
 
 Meanwhile the night brougham had set down the two 
 friends at the house in St. James'.
 
 5O Staunch of Heart. 
 
 There was a supper at Haidee's, and a room full of 
 beautiful women, stars of the theatrical and Terpsichorean 
 and operatic hemisphere, were waiting for them. 
 
 The darkness gave way to gray dawn, and still the 
 revelry flew on. 
 
 Flashes of song flavored the wine that poured out like 
 water, bright scintillations of wit sharpened the shouts of 
 laughter and woke prolonged applause from white, jew- 
 eled hands. 
 
 The goddess of pleasure was being feted by her youth- 
 ful worshipers, and here, amid the devotees at the very 
 shrine, none was a more eager votary than Adrien Leroy. 
 
 See him as he stood with a golden goblet of sparkling 
 Rhine in his right hand, his left toying with the golden 
 tresses of a Spanish beauty, his eyes sparkling to their 
 utmost depths with the elixir of pleasure, his lips opened 
 to thrill out in the deep music of his voice the chorus to a 
 song chanted by a bird-throated prima-donna: 
 
 Ah, while the wine is sweet in the cup 
 
 And the stars are bright above, 
 Care in a kiss is swallowed up 
 
 And drowned in a draught of love! 
 
 See him thus in the brightness and glory of his youth, 
 and bowing to the splendor of his grace and strength to 
 the majesty of his light, untrammeled heart, look no 
 farther; for perchance in the background, unseen by the 
 flashing eyes of the revelers there grins darkly and threat- 
 eningly a shadow with widespread wings of deathlike hue 
 and a face that bears a strong resemblance to the fiend or 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE BARON'S GALLANTRY. 
 
 These modern men and days that seem 
 So strange to me, remembering 
 Those that passed when this gray head 
 Bore youth upon its crest. 
 
 High up in the woods of Buckinghamshire stood stately 
 Barminster so old that one-half its long-stretched pile 
 had decayed to picturesque ruin; so young in the hearts 
 of the people that the chubby village boys would smile at 
 their fathers' knees when they spoke of the castle; so 
 grand in its deep-toned, majestic red, relieved by the 
 sparkling, innumerable diamond-latticed windows, that 
 the great marble palace of the American millionaire that 
 blared bombastically at the sun half a dozen miles off 
 looked hugely ugly and hideously vulgar. 
 
 To say that the Leroys were proud of their ancestral 
 home would be to use the wrong expression. There had 
 been Leroys since William the Robber had struck sparks 
 from British flint with his mailed heel, and Barminster 
 Castle was the natural adjunct to the ancient glory of the 
 house. If the Leroys were proud of anything it was the 
 love and reverence of their people, who in picturesque, 
 far-away dotted villages and hamlets surrounded the castle 
 as naturally and fondly as did the woods. 
 
 The forefathers of the Barminster peasants followed the 
 Baron Leroy's ancestors to the wars, and shed their blood 
 as liberally as the cascade in the wood poured out its 
 water. In these piping times of peace the sons of the loyal 
 people followed still, with reverent looks, affectionate in- 
 terest, and the watchful, guardful love which would have 
 sprung into defiant faithfulness if a Leroy had but nodded 
 toward the tattered standard in the banquet hall and 
 called them to his side.
 
 52 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "God, King and Leroy!" had been the fearless battle 
 cry of the faithful folk when the Martyr King had strug- 
 gled with the Puritan Cropheads, and the cry was not 
 yet forgotten; the hearts that learned it glowed still 
 warm in the present generation. 
 
 Yet Baron Leroy, present Lord of Barminster, had done 
 nothing to keep the flame of loyalty alight in the hearts of 
 the people. He was a stern, austere, haughty, unyielding 
 old man tall, thin, white-bearded and hawk-eyed. If he 
 loved a single human being, so vast was his pride, so fierce 
 his scorn for what he would have termed plebeian weak- 
 ness, that with natural facility he concealed the fact. If 
 he smiled there were some who had been about his per- 
 son who had never seen the stern, knotted brow relax 
 it was but in mockery of some weakness or foible in 
 others. If the curtness of his speech softened or grew less 
 harsh, it was but to sharpen the dart of merciless sarcasm. 
 
 His attendants and members of his retinue for the 
 servants at Barminster amounted in number to, and 
 seemed in appearance, owing to their claret livery, the 
 army of a small German principality feared and dreaded, 
 while they loved him. 
 
 His friends were cautious in his presence, and never 
 mentioned his name without a slight hesitation, as much 
 of respect as fear, for the baron's great virtue was justice, 
 in the sacred cause of which his dearest bosom friend 
 had he possessed one would have been sacrificed unhes- 
 itatingly. 
 
 There were many who remembered the fearful, merci- 
 less punishment dealt out to many an unthinking parvenu 
 who dared to affront the Lord Barminster. 
 
 In France his bright rapier was ever ready to his iron 
 wrist, in England the heavy-thonged whip never failed 
 as instrument of his wrath when chastisement was re- 
 quired from him for some slight or wrong he had received, 
 or fancied he had received, at another's hand. 
 
 The law, mighty as it is, still failed to enmesh the singu- 
 lar baron, for he had a way, a happy knack of punishing 
 or killing so completely that the victim never escaped with 
 strength enough to obtain redress. 
 
 Such was the baron, and to read all we have said of
 
 Staunch of Heart. 53 
 
 him it were only necessary to look upon the stern aristo- 
 cratic face and unbending figure, as he strode to and fro 
 the mosaic pavement of the south terrace in the clear 
 brightness of the March morning. 
 
 The sun shone full upon the dark velvet of his dressing- 
 gown, and caught with a thousand hues the facets of the 
 priceless diamonds at his white, slender wrists. 
 
 At the back of him glittered the stained window of the 
 morning-room. One side thrown open to allow the baron 
 to step out on to the terrace, revealed the elegant luxury 
 of the apartment on the center table of which gleamed 
 the silver-gilt breakfast-service, shadowed over by the 
 rising steam from the silver urn. 
 
 A bright fire sparkled in the grate, and four Venetian 
 mirrors, dividing the rows of painters' masterpieces, threw 
 back, as if with aristocratic scorn, the wealth and beauty 
 they reflected. 
 
 The baron stopped in his stroll, and turned his dark, 
 flashing eyes on the landscape stretching beneath him. 
 Through the tangled confusion of dark, massive woods 
 there lay a long line of pasture, cut here and there by dark 
 threads that were hedges of formidable height, and di- 
 vided by a streak of light, glittering silver, which was 
 the dangerous stream that formed the final obstacle in the 
 Barminster steeple course. 
 
 All the Leroys had been fond of horses. The Bar- 
 minster stables had sent many a satin-coated, fire-blooded 
 colt to carry off the gilt vase, and this race course, which 
 the present baron so carefully kept up, had been planned 
 and laid down by the most famous of the Leroy Nimrods. 
 
 While he looked at it ponderingly, a light footfall broke 
 the silence, and a hand as light as the footfall rested on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 He turned his head with slow hauteur the Leroys 
 never allowed even the shadow of surprise and kissed 
 with a kingly, condescending kind of courtesy the long, 
 slender fingers that rested on his velvet. 
 
 "So early, Constance ?" he said. "Who summoned you 
 from the eyrie?" 
 
 "The larks," replied the clear, high-toned voice of a 
 woman, and Lady Constance Tremaine dropped her hand
 
 54 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 from the old man's shoulder and glided to the marble 
 balustrade on which his own palm rested. 
 
 A beautiful woman was Lady Constance one of the 
 faultlessly faultless faces which the lover in Tennyson's 
 "Maud" half suspected in his mistress a face that, with 
 a touch of color, passion, feeling, would have been simply 
 irresistible. 
 
 But if the delicately-tinted flesh, the large, almond eyes, 
 the faultless mouth, had been but the cunningly-devised 
 marble of Michael Angelo it could not have been more 
 calm, more placidly, proudly immovable. 
 
 As they two, old man and young woman, stood side by 
 side in the clear morning light, the resemblance between 
 them was marked. 
 
 They were related, too, for the Tremaines were some- 
 thing akin to the Leroys ; a distant branch of the mighty 
 clan, and the pride which tainted the blood stirred in their 
 veins and inflamed their hearts. 
 
 The Tremaines were a poor stock of the great race, and 
 beyond the favors of her mighty relative, proud, beautiful 
 Lady Constance had nothing. 
 
 "The larks," she repeated, pointing to the heralds of the 
 morning, as they fluttered high up in the blue azure. 
 "Whether to call them friends or foes I know not, for, 
 though song is sweet, sleep is sweet also, and assuredly 
 they rob me of the latter." 
 
 She spoke in the low, subdued tones of her class, with 
 the exact modulation prescribed by refinement, but the 
 voice, though perfectly musical, lacked that feeling which 
 alone can make it grateful to the heart and ear. 
 
 "What care the larks for you?" said the baron, curtly. 
 "They are, like their masters, selfish to the core. So that 
 they get their meed of sleep, the Lady Constances of the 
 world may roll with tired and unsatisfied lids. But, larks 
 or no larks, you look fresh and bright this morning, Con- 
 stance, and base alloy to the compliment are hungry, no 
 doubt." 
 
 "Fairly so," she replied, still looking out on the land- 
 scape, a family one to her. "Breakfast is waiting. Lady 
 Penelope will take hers in solitude this morning."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 55 
 
 The baron inclined his head. 
 
 "So much for mulled Emillion. Did I not warn her? 
 Strong stomachs may venture where Lady Penelope's 
 equal feeble digestion should falter." 
 
 Lady Constance smiled. 
 
 "Aunt's headache is no worse than usual, so the claret 
 has little to answer for, my lord. How bright the course 
 looks this morning." 
 
 "Ay," he said, grimly. "Like all things that are dan- 
 gerous, it is sweet to the eye. I loathe that fresh strip of 
 green, the grave of many a Leroy's best hope. The turf 
 has been a fatal snare for our race, girl." 
 
 She nodded and her eyelids drooped a little. 
 
 "And yet you keep it so carefully." 
 
 "As a man will treasure the poison or the weapon which 
 has slain his sire. Aye, let what will happen the death ride 
 must have its dressing and its due attention. See where 
 that pollard droops over the dark line of the brook?" 
 
 And he pointed with his long, thin hand to a corner of 
 the courses. 
 
 "Yes," she said, quietly. 
 
 "A Leroy Francis, Lord of Thamescroft, bled to death 
 at its feet. See there at the bend Geoffrey Leroy, in a 
 sterner chase, fell by a Crophead's halberd. And there, 
 where the mound rises by the hawthorn, the brightest of 
 my father's brothers broke his neck. Do you wonder that 
 the -emerald of the turf turns crimson in my sight at 
 times, or that the solitude of the plain is filled by fancy 
 with a skeleton host who rides helter-skelter for the poison 
 cup of death? Bah, these are the mad shadows of a 
 dotard!" 
 
 He broke off suddenly and turned to the open window. 
 
 "Adrien comes to-day," he said, curtly, standing aside 
 and motioning her through with a gesture of the hand 
 that was more a command than a courtesy. 
 
 "To-day?" repeated Lady Constance, passing into the 
 room. "I thought the race was to-morrow and that he 
 would not arrive until then." 
 
 "The race is to-morrow. He comes to-day," said the 
 baron, sinking into his carved chair, upon the back of 
 which the Leroy arms blazed in the sunlight. "I knew it
 
 56 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Is that all he writes?" asked Lady Constance, filling 
 the dainty Sevres cup and passing it to him the baron 
 and his niece dispensed with the attendants when break- 
 fasting alone it pleased him to be waited on by her 
 white hands and noiseless movements. 
 
 "What should he say?" he asked, grimly. 
 
 "Nothing," she replied, instantly, "save of his horse." 
 
 The baron remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed 
 on the painted window. 
 
 "Of his horse or his friend," continued Lady Constance, 
 lifting her dark eyes to his face, "Mr. Jasper Vermont 
 accompanies him, my lord?" 
 
 The baron's face darkened and his thin lips shut tightly. 
 
 "Ay," he said. "In the old times a Leroy kept his 
 stewards and bailiffs at arm's length, and was not hail- 
 fellow-well-met with every adventurer. Now the days 
 are changed, and with the steam engine over our fields 
 and blackening our woods, we lower ourselves to clasp 
 the dingy hand of a nameless club waif as friend and 
 equal. Yes, he comes with him, and we shall gloat the 
 gods with the spectacle of a Leroy feasting side by side, 
 beneath the torn standard of the Martyr, under the very 
 roof which sheltered our king, with a plebeian snob whose 
 cunning brains stand him in the place of blood, whose ef- 
 frontery is the password which admits him to his master's 
 table/* 
 
 Low and bitter the invective syllables rolled out and 
 Lady Constance's eyes scintillated with a sudden, mo- 
 mentary light as she heard them. 
 
 "It is strange this liking Adrien has taken for his 
 steward, or whatever he may call him; it is unaccount- 
 able," she said, in the even, musical tones with which she 
 would as calmly deal out praise. "He is clever, perhaps." 
 
 "Your rogue's only virtue," said the baron. 
 
 "Amusing," suggested Lady Constance. 
 
 'An adventurer's principal stock in trade," was the curt 
 response. 
 
 "And manages Adrien's business matters so admirably." 
 
 "A sharp sleight of hand, as like as not. But be it as it 
 not till this morning, when a messenger brought a note 
 from him, saying that we should see him at dinner."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 57 
 
 will, let it rest We Leroys keep our hands from each 
 other's eyes though the beams may blind. Not mine the 
 task to call my son a fool or strip the mask from his 
 adventurer-friend's false face. Let it go. Whomsoever 
 a Leroy bids to Barminster, I, the lord of it, will wel- 
 come. If Adrien chooses to warm adders at his hearth, 
 his the care they do not turn and sting. Enough. Give 
 me some more coffee, and leave the fellow's name in 
 silence, for, by the Heaven above, I loathe it!" 
 
 None disobeyed the baron, even by a look, and with 
 lowered lids the Lady Constance refilled his cup and bore 
 it to his chair. 
 
 As she did so his sharp eyes caught the glitter of a 
 bright piece of needlework across the chair from which 
 she had risen, and, with a curt gesture in its direction, he 
 said: 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 She took it up and opened it out for him. 
 
 It was a silk jacket with crimson and white stripes; 
 Lady Constance had worked every stitch and blazoned in 
 silver filigree the Leroy coat of arms upon the breast. 
 
 "Hem I" he said, "a pretty piece of foolery. He rides in 
 it?" 
 
 "For the Grand Military," she said. "Do you think it 
 pretty?' 
 
 "As a macaw in the sunlight," he said, grimly, and then 
 bent his eyes upon her questioningly. "You worked it for 
 him, girl?" 
 
 She inclined her stately head. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, with a half smile. 
 
 He arose, and, setting his cup down, strode to the 
 window. 
 
 "You are not displeased that he should wear my colors, 
 my lord?" she said, going to him and touching his arm. 
 
 "Whose else, girl?" he said, turning haughtily upon 
 her. "Whose else but his bride-elect's? You were 
 plighted in your cradles. Leroy and Tremaine are no 
 unequal match. Make his jacket, girl, and" with the 
 soft, cruel smile which spared none- "win the heart it will 
 cover if you can."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MR. VERMONT'S ARRIVAL. 
 
 "Where *s that palace whereunto foul things 
 Sometimes intrude not? SHAKESPEABE. 
 
 If Lady Constance felt any pain at the sharp, bitter 
 words with which the baron left her it was, like all other 
 undignified emotions, carefully kept hidden within her 
 breast. It was against the tenets of the order to which 
 she belonged to show the pain of a wound or the delight 
 of a gratified passion. Lady Constance Tremaine was 
 patrician to the core. So the baron strode out on to the 
 terrace with his thrust unparried or unreturned, and Lady 
 Constance arose languidly and retired to her boudoir. 
 
 If Adrien Leroy, the prince of the fashionable world 
 and the heir to all Barminster, was near at hand it be- 
 hooved her to look her best, that she might, as the baron 
 had bidden her, win the heart as well as work the jacket. 
 
 Lady Constance, beautiful as a hothouse flower at all 
 times, could, if she liked, make herself surpassingly lovely, 
 a thing to strike astonishment into the hearts of beholders 
 and call up visions in their eyes of the mystic-tinted beau- 
 ties of the Lelys in the Leroy galleries. 
 
 Her maid, a Frenchwoman, who had tired imperial 
 forms, understood the half bend of the queenly head, when 
 her mistress said, in the low but courteous accents with 
 which she addressed her inferiors : 
 
 "Mathilde, Mr. Adrien arrives to-day." 
 
 "Yes, miladi," responded the maid, and glided toward 
 the dressing-room. 
 
 But now faint clouds of dust arose from the roads that 
 like serpents twined toward the castle, the clouds grew 
 larger and larger and soon, amid a stir of retainers, 
 Adrien Leroy's courier dashed up to the gates at the court- 
 yard, and in accordance with the time-honored custom, 
 still upheld and rigidly enforced by my lord the baron, 
 
 58
 
 Staunch of Heart. 59 
 
 blew the brazen horn that swung by a steel chain against 
 the heavy portals. 
 
 With a clang the porters threw open the gates, and the 
 courier, an important gentleman, who had preceded his 
 young lord through half the towns in the civilized world, 
 proclaimed that his master's carriage was on the way. 
 
 Instantly, although the bustle of preparation had been 
 going on unremittingly since the moment the baron had 
 announced the news, a confused host of menservants 
 rushed to and fro for a moment, then settled into seeming 
 order, ready to seize bridle or reins, packages, and port- 
 manteaus. 
 
 "My young lord," as Adrien Leroy was always called 
 by the people in defiance of Burke and the order of pre- 
 cedence, "my young lord is well?" asked the porter, a 
 white-haired servitor of the courtyard. 
 
 The courier bowed with gracious condescension. 
 
 "Quite, and handsome as ever. Ah, monsieur," to the 
 baron's valet, who appeared at the door, followed by a 
 second bearing the baron's clothes, which the valet was 
 too great to carry himself. "The compliments of the 
 morning. My lord the baron is well?" 
 
 "I thank you, yes," replied the Frenchman, between 
 whom and the German courier there was eternal enmity. 
 "And so my young lord is on the road? On wheels or 
 saddle?" 
 
 "Saddle," returned the courier. "But the carriage ac- 
 companies him. The blue suite, I presume." 
 
 The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 He was not groom of the chambers, nor major-domo, 
 he retorted, sententiously, and away bounded the German 
 to find some other official and ascertain where his lord 
 was to be located. 
 
 Half an hour afterward the clouds of dust resolved 
 themselves into half a dozen gentlemen on horseback, as 
 many grooms, and a traveling-carriage bringing up the 
 rear at a distance of a quarter of a mile. 
 
 Lady Constance saw the cavalcade, and waiting till the 
 rich-toned voice was within hearing, stepped from her 
 soom on to the balcony and leaned over with a witching
 
 60 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 smile as with a clatter and a clanging of the horn Adrien 
 and his friends swept into the courtyard below. 
 
 The gentlemen's hats flew off as if by magic, and 
 Adrien Leroy, moving his horse forward, looked up, still 
 hat in hand, and with his courtly smile said : 
 
 "We thought we had left the sun behind us, sweet 
 cousin, but she is still overhead !" 
 
 She looked down upon him with an increase of sweet- 
 ness in the smile and raised a flower to her lips. 
 
 "That's a Persian compliment, Adrien; the East has, 
 spoiled you. Have you enjoyed your ride ?" 
 
 "Not half so much as the welcome," he murmured back, 
 catching the flower which she let drop, and raising it to 
 his lips. 
 
 She smiled again and turned her eyes with her leisurely 
 serene grace to the others, who, still uncovered, waited 
 for the boon of a word. 
 
 "Ah, my lord, I did not know you were coming, but* 
 as the marquis* face dropped "unexpected pleasure* 
 are. sweet as rain in August. What a beautiful horses 
 your new purchase? Mr. Pomfrey, I have read your 
 book and like it." 
 
 The celebrated author bowed to the saddle. 
 
 "Duke it is too far to shake hands you cannof 
 reach.*' 
 
 And she slid one dainty hand to the duke, who, riding 
 up, retorted with' true French gayety : 
 
 "No mortal can reach so far," and bent under the hand 
 as if to receive its benediction. 
 
 Lady Constance smiled and drew back. 
 
 "All farther courtesies and compliments on an equal 
 platform," she said, nodding her adieu, and the gentle- 
 men, laughing and chatting, sprang from their saddles 
 and passed under the porched entrance into the castle. 
 
 Leaning on the duke's arm Adrien passed up the great 
 hall, lined by its faithful and obsequious servants, into the 
 grand reception-room, where in the mediaeval fireplaces 
 great fires blazed and sparkled on the steel dog-irons 
 which still held their own in Barminster Castle against all 
 modern innovations in the shape of register stoves or 
 grates. 
 
 The room was empty, but before all had passed in, the
 
 Staunch of Heart. 6n 
 
 silken purple curtains of one of the entrances were pushed 
 aside, and the mighty baron entered. 
 
 He was still in his loose velvet dressing-gown, and as 
 he strode forward over the mosaic floor looked like a 
 Doge of ancient Venice. His stern face softened into a 
 welcome and his long, thin hand was extended as the 
 duke came forward to meet him. 
 
 "Ah, duke, so you keep my boy company, and you, 
 marquis ! gentlemen, you are welcome, no need to remind 
 you of that, I know. Adrien," and he turned with his face 
 stern again, but courteous, "you have had a fine day. 
 Ride or drive?" 
 
 "Ride, sir," answered Adrien, his voice sounding like a 
 sweeter, softer echo of the old man's rich, deep, and some- 
 what grim tones. 
 
 "The roads are in good order, eh, duke? But a change 
 still from the tan of the park." 
 
 "Of which, for my part, I am heartily weary," said the 
 duke, with his cheery laugh. "Give me nature without a 
 corset." 
 
 "And that you will get at Barminster," said the baron, 
 with a smile. "We are all nature, marquis, rugged, 
 rough-handed nature, but true." 
 
 As he spoke he glanced again at Adrien, as if his 
 thoughts had strayed. Then, with a start, he passed from 
 his side and in his haughty, but thoroughly courtly style, 
 welcomed the remaining 1 guests. 
 
 As his hand took the last, Anchester Pomfrey's, he 
 looked down the room, back at Adrien, and gave vent to 
 an unmistakable sigh of relief. 
 
 Adrien Leroy, almost as if in response to it, said : 
 
 "Well, we are hungry; too early for your luncheon, 
 sir?" 
 
 "It is set in the south corridor,*' said the baron, then 
 turning to the duke with the easy bearing of an equal in 
 rank but a superior in years, he added : "I am an old man 
 and the fleshpots of Egypt have little charm for me ; your 
 younger days should still find comfort in baked meats. 
 Go and demolish them. I'll to my prayers, as Hamlet 
 says or should have said." 
 
 And with a slight bend and a parting smile, he strode 
 igh the curtained doorway.
 
 62 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Adrien Leroy and his guests strolled tip the long hall, 
 and, by way of a few marble steps flanked by the heraldic 
 stags bearing a coronet, into the south corridor. 
 
 Here a magnificent luncheon had been laid, and Lady 
 Penelope and Lady Constance were awaiting them. 
 
 Bowing over the elder lady's hand while his friends 
 clustered around the younger, Adrien, in the low, half- 
 weary tone habitual with him, murmured the usual salu- 
 tations and sank into the seat at the head of the table. 
 
 Lady Constance sat beside her aunt, but within reach 
 of the young lord, and within sight. 
 
 Half a dozen servitors stood at a respectful distance 
 waiting with watchful eyes for some chance gesture to 
 imply a wish which they might gratify. 
 
 The meal if meal it could be called commenced and 
 for a few minutes silence profound dropped on all, then 
 Adrien, setting down his glass, said, with his low, light 
 laugh : 
 
 "I was really hungry. Lady Constance, there is a 
 witchery in Barminster air." 
 
 "Or rather in its sweet lady's presence," said the gallant 
 duke. 
 
 "I do not know what appetite is without these walls," 
 added Adrien. 
 
 "And yet so seldom here," said Lady Constance, glan- 
 cing down at her plate, stained only by a few grapes. 
 
 " 'Business and the cares of state,' " quoted Adrien, 
 with his rare smile. "But I might retaliate; you seldom 
 leave them. Why does the court miss its rarest pearl, 
 sweet coz?" 
 
 "Does it miss it ?" she said, with a smile of incredulity. 
 "Scarcely, when the casket overbrims always. But, come, 
 you are to tell us all about the race. Are you going to 
 win it? Aunt is dying to know, are you not?" 
 
 And she turned to Lady Penelope, who made her usual 
 answer : 
 
 "Yes, my love." 
 
 "Oh, Adrien always wins,*' said the marquis. "That is 
 a matter of course. But you have seen the King last. 
 Lady Constance, surely?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," she replied. "He is exercised on the lawn 
 before my window every morning and receives due ad-
 
 Staunch of Heart. 63 
 
 miration. He is a fine fellow, and in what you gentle- 
 men call 'fine form.' " 
 
 Adrien smiled. 
 
 "Poor King Cole; to-morrow he runs for his dynasty. 
 By the way, Ireton, are any of the other horses down?" 
 
 "Yes," said Ireton. "A lot my man saw at the station." 
 
 "The rough-legged screw among them, I suppose," 
 said the duke. 
 
 "No," said Chudleigh. "He was not. My man re- 
 marked his absence." 
 
 "Perhaps the owner has learned wisdom and with- 
 drawn him," said Adrien. 
 
 "It is to be hoped so, for his own sake," laughed the 
 marquis. 
 
 The topic so lightly touched led off to town news, of 
 which Pomfrey had a budget, which in true literary style 
 he unfolded delightfully. 
 
 Among a peal of well-bred laughter the ladies arose, 
 and the gentlemen hastened to draw back the curtain for 
 them to pass. 
 
 "In half an hour then," said Lady Constance, looking 
 back at Adrien, and referring to a ride he had begged of 
 her. 
 
 "In half an hour," he said, inclining his head, and then 
 passed into the hall. 
 
 The gentlemen, still standing, sipped their last draughts 
 of wine and planned out the remainder of the day. 
 
 It was liberty hall at Barminster Castle ; neither guests 
 nor host dragged upon one another, and all programmes 
 were unfettered. 
 
 While they talked Adrien strode to the window. 
 
 "By Jove! I had forgotten Jasper," he said, with a 
 slight elevation of his straight eyelids. "Here he is, step- 
 ping out of the carriage like a Roman emperor in tweeds." 
 
 He nodded, with his short smile, to Mr. Vermont, as, 
 surrounded by servants who seemed anxious to carry him 
 bodily into the hall, so eager were they to serve him, 
 he pushed them aside and with his amiable smile strolled 
 into the reception-room. 
 
 As he entered at one end the baron pushed the curtains 
 aside at the other, and seeing him, stopped in his stride
 
 64 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 and stood dark and statuesque, apparently unconscious 
 of his son and his guests, who were looking on from the 
 entrance to the corridor. 
 
 The cloud was dark on the baron's brow, for the ab- 
 sence of Mr. Vermont from the party had raised the hope 
 in his mind that his son had left the "adventurer" in Lon- 
 don. It was a rude shock and one that intensified the 
 hatred the old man felt for the smiling plebeian to find 
 that hope dispelled. j 
 
 Mr. Jasper saw the cloud, but his smile did not lose a ' 
 tittle of its amiability; his step, soft and assured, never 
 slackened nor quickened as, approaching with well- 
 feigned if not genuine case, he bowed before the tall, 
 princely figure. 
 
 "Good-morning, my lord ! I trust I see you in perfect 
 health?" 
 
 The baron struggled to forget all but the duties of a 
 host, bent his white head and extended his hand grimly. 
 
 "You do, sir. I am in good health. You, I fear, are an 
 invalid?" 
 
 And he turned his sharp eyes with a bitter smile toward 
 the close carriage from which' the dainty Mr. Vermont 
 had just alighted. 
 
 "No, my lord ; quite well, I thank you," he replied, as if 
 perfectly unconscious of the irony. "But I have acquired 
 some wisdom in my journey through life; enough to 
 teach me that all other journeys nay, that included, 
 should be taken as comfortably as possible. I prefer the 
 ease of the cushion to the discomfort of the saddle, and 
 the clear, thbugh confined, air of a traveling-carriage to 
 an atmosphere of dust. Am I not right?" 
 
 "Perfectly, no doubt. Mr. Vermont should know what 
 suits his peculiar constitution best," said the baron, add- 
 ing, with a smile which always made his thrust more 
 bitter: "Different bloods require different treatment, I 
 presume." 
 
 Mr. Vermont smiled, and as he passed on to the cor- 
 ridor, muttered, perhaps not inaudibly: 
 
 "Your lordship does indeed presume." 
 
 Then as the baron, with lowered brows, strode away,
 
 Staunch of Heart. 65 
 
 Mr. Jasper tripped on, in his soft, easy fashion, and 
 laughingly sat himself at the luncheon table. 
 
 "What an amusing dog that Norgate of yours is. 
 Adrian," he said. "He took the spare hack down, and I 
 have had the greatest treat in the world gazing at his mis- 
 eries. The fellow has no more idea of a horse than a 
 Venetian; he'll be sore for a week, and the animal has 
 ruined his new suit." 
 
 Then amid the laughter of the aristocrats, who how- , 
 ever much they hated him never refused to be amused 
 by him, Mr. Jasper drew an inimitable picture of the 
 luckless valet and mimicked his contortions and mishaps 
 with the supreme art of a comedian. 
 
 Adrien had passed out in the middle of the sketch and, 
 with a cigar between his lips, sauntered into the court- 
 yard and thence to tl<e stables. 
 
 The grooms and keepers flew about; tugging at their 
 forelocks, and one was dispatched for the head groom, 
 who made his appearance, struggling into his coat and 
 coughing with embarrassed respect. 
 
 His master nodded. 
 
 "Good-morning, Barkham. Where is the King?" 
 
 "In the south stable, my lord," replied the man, fum- 
 bling in his pocket for the keys. "Would your lordship 
 like to see him?" 
 
 Adrien nodded and strode off to the stables, the groom 
 following him. 
 
 As the man inserted the key in the lock, Adrien said : 
 
 "No one has the entree of the stable but yourself, 
 Markham?" 
 
 "No one, my lord. I'm always here when he's being 
 littered or fed. Not a soul touches him without I'm at 
 his side. He's in fine condition my lord; I never saw! 
 him in better." 
 
 Adrien passed in and laid his hand upon the silky coat ' 
 of his great race horse. The dainty creature pricked up 
 its finely-pointed ears and turned to his lord and master 
 with a whinny of delight. 
 
 "He does look well," admitted Adrien. "Has he had 
 his gallop this morning?'*
 
 66 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Yes, my lord; but would you like to see him across 
 the paddock?" 
 
 "Yes," said Adrien. "By the way, who rides him to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 "Peacock, my lord." 
 
 "Ah, the new jockey," said Adrien. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Jasper's lad," said the groom. 
 
 "A good seat?" asked Adrien. 
 
 "Capital, never saw better, my lord, and weighs noth- 
 ing. I'll send for him, my lord, if you would like to see 
 him." 
 
 "Db," said Adrien. 
 
 And Mr. Markham, setting a whistle in his mouth, pro- 
 duced, as if by magic, half a dozen stable helps from the 
 yard. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Peacock his lordship wishes to see him," 
 said Mr. Markham. 
 
 And away started the boys. 
 
 In a few minutes, during which the head groom led the 
 precious King into the yard and saddled him, the jockey 
 arrived. 
 
 Mr. Markham had called him a lad, but in truth he 
 was a middle-aged man with the stunted stature of a boy 
 an odd face and figure to look at and scarcely one to 
 admire, for nature, not satisfied with robbing him of 
 manhood's strength and stature, defrauded him of every 
 pretention to comeliness of feature. 
 
 Adrien looked him over critically. 
 
 "You ride the King to-morrow?" he asked. 
 
 "I do, my lord," replied the dwarf. 
 
 "Take him around the paddock," said Adrien. 
 
 And the jockey, throwing off the thick coat by means 
 of which, in addition to three large woollen comforters, 
 he retained his skeleton condition, sprang into the saddle, 
 and, keeping a tight rein on the tender mouth, took the 
 racer to the long strip of meadow land. 
 
 Adrien stood with his arms folded, but with a glow of 
 pride in his dark eyes, watching the bird-like flight of 
 the superb animal, as almost unencumbered by the 
 feather-weight on his back, he sped around the paddock, 
 and returned fresh and lightly to the starting point.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 67 
 
 [Adrien nodded, and the jockey dropped from his saddle. 
 
 "You will do," said his master ; "ride like that to-mor- 
 row and we shall win. There is claret money for you no 
 beer, mind." 
 
 And, as he turned away, he held out a ten-pound note 
 to him. 
 
 The jockey stared at the note for a moment, then 
 crouching almost like a dog he came forward and took it 
 by its extreme edge. 
 
 Adrien smiled. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, man; one would think you expected 
 a blow." 
 
 The man started, took the note, and, with three tugs 
 at his forehead, turned to the heap of coats and neck- 
 clothes. 
 
 Adrien walked away, but happening to glance back at 
 Markham, who was re-covering the King, saw that the 
 withered morsel of humanity, with one arm in his great- 
 coat, was still gazing after him with the same curious 
 stare. 
 
 "These poor creatures sweat their brains away as well 
 as their flesh," he thought, adding lightly, "foolish to 
 give him anything till after the race. I must fell Mark- 
 ham to see he doesn't get drunk to-night, or the King 
 will get away and run wild." 
 
 In the courtyard Lady Constance's Arabian and his 
 own hunter were being walked, ready saddled. 
 
 As he turned in her ladyship emerged from the arched 
 entrance. 
 
 Lady Constance had been blessed by nature with a fine 
 figure. Art, as represented by French modistes and Ger- 
 man tailors, had put the extreme finishing touch. The re- 
 sults were that Lady Constance Tremaine, whether in 
 court silks or blue riding habit, was that thing of beauty 
 which is a joy forever in the minds of those who have 
 once seen it. 
 
 Beautiful as a fashionable Venus she looked, with her 
 gathered skirts of her habit in her perfectly gloved hands, 
 and another besides Adrien Leroy was sensible of her 
 divine loveliness.
 
 68 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 That other was Mr. Jasper Vermont, who, with that 
 powerful tact which procured him access to all, elected 
 himself as chief slave to her ladyship, and whenever he 
 was at Barminster Castle, in some inexplicable way con- 
 stituted himself as her fetch-and-carry and most obedient 
 creature. 
 
 Now it was he who passed the inspecting hand over her 
 saddle and looked to the girths. It was he of all the rest 
 who, as Adrien took her tiny foot to help her to the sad- 
 dle, recovered the handkerchief which she dropped from 
 her hand. It was he who at the last moment adjusted 
 the bridle, and it was he who bowed lowest and smiled 
 sweetest as with a rear and a clatter of polished hoofs 
 the horses started off, followed by Lady Constance's se- 
 date groom.
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL SONGSTRESS. 
 
 What is friendship but a name, 
 
 A charm that lulls to sleep, 
 A shade that follows wealth or fame 
 
 And leaves the watch to weep? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 The dinner hour at the castle was eight. 
 
 At five, as it commenced to grow dusk, Adrien and 
 Lady Constance dashed into the courtyard. 
 
 The groom, well mounted as he was, panted a mile 
 away. 
 
 Chi Lady Constance's face there sat a smile serene and 
 satisfied a smile vivid enough to show her pearly teeth 
 and lend a gleam of color to her cheeks. 
 
 On Adrien Leroy's there lingered, almost brooded, that 
 air of languid weariness which not even the excitement 
 of a gallop with so beautiful a woman as his companion 
 could banish. 
 
 Leaping from his saddle, he stood bareheaded at her 
 barb's side, and with a turn of his steely muscles swung 
 her to the ground. 
 
 As he did so, her acute eyes caught the faint weariness 
 and the smile deepened in another woman whose emo- 
 tions were less in check it would have vanished. 
 
 "We meet you at dinner," she said. "Until then adieu." 
 
 "Adieu!" he returned, bowing low. 
 
 And she glided into the hall murmuring inaudibly: 
 
 "Does he love me, or does he not?" 
 
 Adrien went straight to his apartments, which consisted 
 of a magnificent suite provided with a separate and pri- 
 vate staircase, and a detached set of servants. 
 
 09
 
 7O Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Norgate, who knew how to interpret each varying 
 shade of his lord's face, just glanced at it, and then stole 
 away to prepare the midday bath. 
 
 Adrien Leroy, with all his strength, great powers of en- 
 durance, and nobility of manhood, was an extreme Sybar- 
 ite. If life were to consist of one long rest on beds of 
 rose leaves, for him the perfumed couch must have no 
 creases. He was thorough even in his luxuries ; his habits 
 were as softly planned as those of a sultan ; all that mod- 
 ern art could do to elevate luxury to a perfected science 
 was enlisted on his behalf, and yet the world of fashion 
 which so adored him never applied the title of dandy to 
 him. 
 
 He was something more a man so earnest that even 
 in the matter of doing nothing he would, as Mortimer 
 once said, "Do it well, or leave it undone." 
 
 So his bath was prepared, and he enjoyed it, after which 
 he lay wrapped in eiderdown toilet robes smoking from 
 his Eastern nor ghile. Then, when the shade of weari- 
 ness had given place to a serene and placid gravity Nor- 
 gate was summoned and the regulation evening dress was 
 donned. 
 
 At eight the great gong sounded through every cor- 
 ridor of the immense place. Norgate stood with the din- 
 ner carte in one hand, his lord's handkerchief in the other. 
 
 Adrien glanced at the carte carelessly ; then, returning 
 it, prepared to descend. 
 
 "Where does my lord the baron dine?'* he asked. 
 
 "In his private rooms, sir," replied Norgate. 
 
 Dinner 5 was served in regal magnificence in the small 
 Veronese chamber, as it was called, from the walls being 
 partially covered with gems by that great master. 
 
 Conversation ran principally upon the race of the mor- 
 row, Lady Constance displaying almost a mild enthusiasm, 
 and confessing that she had backed the King for a thou- 
 sand pounds, which, she added, the baron had given her 
 for the purpose. 
 
 Adrien looked slightly pleased. Mr. Vermont smiled 
 amiably. 
 
 "What a business man would call a good investment, 
 Lady Tremaine. The King is safe to win. Has the baron 
 backed him heavily, do you know?*'
 
 Staunch of Heart. 71 
 
 "Yes, but, oh, that's a secret!" and her ladyship 
 smiled. "He is proud of the horse, you know." 
 
 Mr. Jasper smiled still more. 
 
 "The King will carry more than his own weight of gold 
 to-morrow," he said, then glided from the subject to an 
 account of the Countess Eveline's ball, lending it an in- 
 terest derivable entirely from the piquant style of the nar- 
 ration, and with a thousand artistic touches amusing her 
 ladyship to the extent of an encomium on his powers as 
 a reporter. 
 
 "You have eyes like that queer insect, Mr. Vermont, 
 in the back of your head surely ; or do you mount on in- 
 visible wings to the chandeliers, and take a bird's-eye 
 view ?" 
 
 Mr. Vermont laughed. 
 
 "Some have eyes and some have not," he said, showing 
 his even teeth. 
 
 "Do you know," said Lady Constance, turning to the 
 duke, who had preserved a regal silence during the prog- 
 ress of his favorite courses, "Lady Penelope has been 
 besieging the baron during the last two months and has, 
 I think, nearly carried the citadel?" 
 
 "Ah ! and what is the motive of the attack ?" said the 
 duke, putting down the fork, and deciding to lose the last 
 morsel for beauty's sake. "Does she want to cut down the 
 shrubbery; lay out the deer park into a Dutch landscape 
 garden, or a body of artillery to fire salutes morning and 
 evening from the battlements?" 
 
 "As they did for six weeks against the Cropheads in 
 his majesty's time," said Lady Constance, bowing her 
 head slightly, as was the custom with all the Leroys when 
 the Martyr's name was spoken. "No, neither of those; 
 but Lady Penelope wants a bal masque in the great salon. 
 You have seen it, it is in the east wing. Adrien, if you 
 would add your word we should get it ; won't you do so?" 
 
 Adrien aroused himself. He had been sitting within 
 a few feet and yet not heard a word. 
 
 Lady Constance repeated herself. 
 
 "A bal masque I 1 " he said, dreamily. "Yes, an excellent 
 idea, but if the baron has refused you it is scarcely likely 
 that he will yield to me. Why will not Park House do for
 
 72 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 you, Lady Penelope? I hand it over to you from cellar to 
 garret with absolute authority. Nay, more; I will bind 
 myself your faithful slave till all the arrangements are 
 made." 
 
 Lady Penelope laughed. 
 
 "No, Park House is too modern, and, excuse me, too 
 common. Princely cavaliers and royalists would be out of 
 place within walls that had never inclosed anything more 
 romantic than the modern sable costumes. Here in Bar- 
 minster Castle the scene would be but a resurrection a 
 reflection of the reality. Remember that kings and princes 
 of the blood have trod the boards of the salon times with- 
 out number, and that these walls are to the manner born 
 of all that is romantic and noble. No; here in the grand 
 salon, or nowhere !" 
 
 Adrien bowed. 
 
 "So be it," he said ; "I will do my best. If the baron 
 be inexorable I'll treasure up your words, and slay his 
 obstinacy with their eloquence." 
 
 Lady Penelope arose. 
 
 "Not mine," she said, smiling at her beautiful niece, 
 "but Constance's. I but repeated word for word her on- 
 slaught on the baron." 
 
 Adrien opened the door for them to pass out, and re- 
 turned to his seat with something like a sigh. None no- 
 ticed it save Jasper Vermont, and he, while he mused, 
 "What is on him now, I wonder?" he said, gayly: 
 
 "Come, Adrien, this Burgundy has passed you twice. 
 Such wine, too. Ah, when this has gone and its like, 
 what will become of us? Away with Nineveh, down with 
 dynasties, but save us these old nectars, and fate may do 
 what it pleases." 
 
 Adrien smiled. 
 
 "Jasper, you are a butterfly," he said. 
 
 "And what is better?" retorted the wit. "Is life worth 
 having when the flowers are gone? Who would desire 
 more? Beauty on the wings, ambrosial essence on the 
 palate, and puff! forgetfulness, sleep when the sum- 
 mer has gone. Never despise the butterflies, but if you 
 have more scorn than you can conveniently carry give 
 it to the bee and the ant, than whom the world holds no
 
 Staunch of Heart. 73 
 
 greater fools. Fill me again, sirrah. Now, listen, here is 
 the last piece of scandal, duke," and he leaned over with 
 a slight glitter in his small eyes. "You all know Mont- 
 garret poor old ant how many thousands has he car- 
 ried away from his deep, dark mines, to and fro, like the 
 indefatigable miserable insect he is! Lady Montgarret, 
 the fair flower of the day, how beautiful, how serene. 
 What a partner to rejoice the heart of our amiable mole. 
 He marries her ! Poor ant ! On the wings of the summer 
 breeze comes the despised butterfly, little Gerald Fitzroy. 
 Presto ! he spies the poor ant's flower, covets, and presto ! 
 robs the wiser insect of its treasure. Now mark you the 
 contrast between folly and wisdom. The ant that Solo- 
 mon of industry takes the loss of his flower to heart and 
 dies of a rupture of that eccentric organ. The butterfly 
 whom you despise, my dear Adrien sips the nectar from 
 his ill-gotten flower till the taste palls, then flies to fresh 
 fields and pastures new !" 
 
 Soft and pleasing as was the voice, poetically rendered 
 as was the fable, the listeners could not suppress a shud- 
 der. 
 
 All save Adrien, who with a grim sternness, said, as he 
 arose : 
 
 "Change your types, Jasper, from butterfly to snake, 
 and from ant to man, and give us another sequel. Who 
 sucked the nectar from flower of mine should find death at 
 the bottom of his draught." 
 
 Jasper laughed silently. 
 
 "Ah, how brave ! What energy, what courage is wasted 
 in these modern times. You should have lived in the age 
 of that noble ancestor of yours who stands in the hall 
 or his armor at least sword in hand, always ready for a 
 blow. Ha ! ha ! By the way, marquis, Pomf rey can tell 
 you a good story anent faithless wives. What is it, 
 Pomf rey?" 
 
 "Oh," said the author, laughing, "that little girl Lord 
 Noblechild married, ran away with Charlie Jukes of the 
 Guards. When his lordship heard it he sent her lady- 
 ship's wardrobe and jewels after them, with his compli- 
 ments to Mr. Jukes, and her ladyship would ruin him, 
 fast enough even with the stock in hand."
 
 74 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 This characteristic anecdote meeting with the proper 
 amount of laughter, the gentlemen adjourned to the silver 
 drawing-room. 
 
 This one of the half-dozen small salons in Barminster 
 Castle was decorated a la Watteau, but exclusively in blue 
 and silver. 
 
 Lady Constance's dress to match was of the faintest 
 tint of azure with Etruscan silver ornaments sparkling in 
 its rich folds. Blue suited her shell-like complexion, 
 and to-night she looked her best. 
 
 Adrien had a passion for music, and possessed a splen- 
 did mellow voice, which not one out of a hundred of his 
 friends had ever heard in melody. He was a master of 
 *he piano and guitar, but save in the hours of solitude 
 touched neither. 
 
 To-night he sank into one of the dainty satin lounges 
 and gave himself up to supreme indolence. 
 
 The talk went on around him. Mr. Jasper's voice, soft 
 and silky, with a general laugh, following its close, Lady 
 Constance's, mellow and patrician, the duke's rolling and 
 full of abrupt turns, lulled him into perfect rest, from 
 which he aroused himself to beg a song from Lady Con- 
 stance. 
 
 "Yes, and you shall choose." 
 
 Adrien arose and turned the music. 
 
 "Sing what you please," he said, "or this old ballad." 
 
 "Why?" she said. "Do you like it? It is sp sad." 
 
 "What is it called ?" asked Mr. Jasper Vermont, gliding 
 to the piano. 
 
 "'False Friends/" replied Lady Constance. 
 
 "Pray let us have that," returned Mr. Jasper, amiably. 
 
 And Lady Constance seated herself at the instrument. 
 
 Mr. Jasper declared he was devoted to music, and no 
 doubt he was, to judge from the enthusiastic applause 
 with which he received the last notes. 
 
 "So sweet, so plaintive. And so true ; the words are as 
 good as the music. Let me see, what is the last verse? 
 
 " 'Bitter as the snow in June, 
 
 More bitter than all things else, 
 To find, more changeful than the moon, 
 
 Yonr bosom friend so false.' "
 
 Staunch of Heart. 75 
 
 s 
 
 Then, surrounded by admiers, the beautiful songstress 
 sang again, song after song. 
 
 Mr. Jasper sat a little apart, gazing through a gap in the 
 curtains at that moon which had been so convenient as a 
 subject of comparison to the false friend, and listening 
 with all his ears. Sometimes he turned his sleek face and 
 looked long and with drooped eyelids at the exquisite pro- 
 file of the singer. At the end of each long, curious glance 
 his eyes would drop on the full-length figure of Adrien 
 Leroy, his friend, stretched in graceful, languid repose. 
 Then he would return to the contemplation of the moon 
 with an expression on his face worthy of the Sphinx. 
 
 At last Lady Constance would sing no more, and sud- 
 denly turned off the attack upon Adrien. 
 
 "Will you not sing one for us, only a little one? Do 
 not be ungracious." 
 
 He hesitated for a moment, then arose with that old 
 gesture as if dashing off his weariness with a shake of the 
 whole frame and seated himself. For a few minutes his 
 long white hands strayed over the piano dreamily, then 
 in a voice whose richness seized upon the heart with mar- 
 velous power, sang two short verses. 
 
 "A boy sat in an orchard sweet, 
 
 The moon wrapped night in light, 
 But from his aching, searching feet 
 
 Love took flight. 
 
 "A man sought all the world afar 
 In darkness and the hot sun's light; 
 
 But never nearer hope 's bright star. 
 Love took flight." 
 
 In the pause of silence which reigned between the two 
 last words and the amazed applause, Mr. Jasper stood be- 
 hind the curtains, opened the window and slid out on the 
 terrace. 
 
 There he fell against the heavy stone balustrade as if 
 he were fainting; tugging at his immaculate neckcloth, 
 his pale, flaccid face turned up to the moon. 
 
 "Heaven ! I can't endure it !" he breathed. "His beauty 
 kills me ! The sweetness of his voice maddens me ! Con- 
 found him, how I hate him 1"
 
 76 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Mr. Jasper was too indisposed, he explained the next 
 morning at breakfast, to re-enter and say good-night. But 
 he was not too indisposed to steal from his room, glide 
 noiselessly down the grand staircase, and drop lightly as 
 a feather from a casement on to the terrace, and thence 
 set off at a hard pace through the plantations. 
 
 At the end of these stood a little 'cottage, attached to 
 the straw-yard, set apart for any of the sick cattle. 
 
 At the door of this cottage Mr. Jasper Vermont listened 
 attentively, then, without word of warning, lifted the latch 
 and entered. 
 
 A dim light flickered from a stable candlestick, and by 
 that Mr. Jasper made his way to a Corner of the room, 
 where upon a small. bedstead lay what looked like a mis- 
 shapen lad. 
 
 On touching this with his foot Mr. Jasper elicited a 
 growl, and by means of another kick succeeded in arous- 
 ing Mr. Peacock, the jockey, from his virtuous slumber. 
 
 The little monkey face crinkled in true imp fashion as 
 the bleared eyes saw who the midnight visitor was, and 
 the voice which had so huskily responded to Adrien in, 
 the morning more huskily now said: 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Short and polite ; wake up !" retorted Mr. Jasper, kick- 
 ing him again. "Did I not tell you I should be here at 
 twelve, eh, you imp of darkness ?" 
 
 "You did, guv'nor," sullenly replied Mr. Peacock. 
 
 "Well, and here I am. You're not drunk, are you? 
 Here, show me your face," and with a cruel grin the soft 
 and amiable Mr. Jasper seized the shrunken cheek of the 
 dwarfed jockey and dragged him by the novel handle like 
 a log of wood to the light. "No, not drunk, but a gooc? 
 way on. Now then ; you're sober enough to know what 
 I say, and what I mean. You know what you've got to 
 do to-morrow, eh ?" 
 
 The creature nodded sulkily. 
 
 "Tighten and choke him off at the last hurdle. That's 
 it ; and mind you do it neatly, too no clumsy journeyman 
 work, but clean and offhand. You can do it, you know ; 
 it won't be the first little affair you've sold, eh ? You sold 
 one too many though, didn't you ? and you know what I'll 
 do if you don't work this as it should be done, don't you?"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 77 
 
 The man nodded again. 
 
 "All right, guv'nor," he muttered. "Don't cut up rough. 
 Everything's square, ain't it ?" 
 
 "I hope it is," said Mr. Jasper, eyeing him, "or you'll 
 be picking oakum, or whatever legal employment is the 
 fashion at Millbank before to-morrow night. What's the 
 matter with you?" he asked, still scrutinizing the fellow 
 by the same means, namely, the skin of his cheek. "You 
 look all over the sea; what's the matter, eh?" and he 
 tightened his grasp. 
 
 The man looked down, then up at the cruel face of his 
 tormentor. 
 
 "I've seen him, guv'nor," he said, huskily. 
 
 "Him ! Whom, you idiot ?" rejoined Mr. Jasper. 
 
 "Him as we're to sell," replied the man, blinking re- 
 morsefully at the candle, and apparently indifferent to the 
 agony which Mr. Jasper was so playfully inflicting with 
 his fat, cruel fingers. 
 
 "Oh, and what if you have, you gallows-bird ; what if 
 you have ?" 
 
 "He give me a tenpun' note," said the man as if to him- 
 self. "And he spoke clear and soft-like clear and soft, 
 kindly-like." Then suddenly wrenching his cheek from 
 Mr. Jasper's grasp he turned his bleared eyes on him sav- 
 agely. "Leave go my cheek, will yer? It's a darned 
 shame to sell him, and I won't." 
 
 Mr. Jasper raised his little fat hand and knocked the 
 diminutive form to the ground as a butcher fells an ox, 
 then, springing on to his chest, raised his fist again. 
 
 The jockey put up his hands imploringly, and ground 
 out from his parched throat : 
 
 "Guv'nor, guv'nor, what are you goin' to do?" 
 
 "Kill you, you cur!" snapped Mr. Jasper. "Do you 
 think I'd let you live till the morning to split? Ha! ha! w 
 
 The fist poised itself in the air. The jockey winced. 
 
 "Stop, stop r he croaked "111 do it I"
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RACE. 
 
 Now neck to neck, with veined nostrils opt, 
 The panting racers swiftly cope; 
 While shouts of warning, rage and prayer 
 Prom eager throats make thick the air, 
 Till the full length of course is run, 
 And swiftest feet the race have won. 
 
 The morning of the race shone bright, sharp and clear. 
 The Leroy course glittered through the dewdrops like a 
 thing of fatal beauty. 
 
 With the dawn streams of pedestrians had tramped 
 through the quiet villages to the gathering place. Later 
 on strings of carriages beat up the dust of the hard roads. 
 
 In driblets of two and three the late horses arrived, 
 swaddled in clothes like dainty plants or fractious chil- 
 dren. Bowlegged grooms and diminutive jockeys made 
 the air reek with odors of the stable, and the ear painful 
 with coarse oaths and vulgar, horsy slang. 
 
 Still later on came the mob of turfites and bookmakers, 
 all with that hungry, red-nosed look which distinguishes 
 the professed layers of odds. 
 
 Then came an army of carpenters, who, with practiced 
 facility and rapidity literally ran up the grand stand, and 
 covered it with its dainty Crimson cloth and Leroy stream- 
 ers. 
 
 Toward noon, the hour al; which the chasers were to 
 leave the starting post, the crowd grew denser, the oaths 
 thicker, and the snouts of "Two to one on King Cole," 
 "Four to three on Rosicrucian," "Six to one on the favor- 
 ite against the field," were hoarse and turbulent. 
 
 Twelve o'clock struck from the castle stable's clock, and 
 still no appearance of the "swells," as the lower orders de- 
 light in denominating the higher. 
 
 "Your swells are always late," said a thick lipped turf- 
 ite, biting his stubby pencil prior to booking a favorable 
 bet. "They plays to carry it high. It ain't their style to be 
 
 78
 
 Staunch of Heart. 79 
 
 punctual. That's left for such poor chaps as us. Two to 
 one on King Cole ! Hello ! what's that weedy animal goin' 
 in for?" 
 
 The remark was echoed by several, as a dark chestnut, 
 thin in the flank and badly groomed, made its appearance 
 among the high-bred occupants of the paddock. 
 
 A little, dirty-faced, closely-shaven Yorkshireman had 
 her in charge, and he looked as nonchalant and self-satis- 
 fied as if he held the bridle of King Cole himself. 
 
 Presently, while the crowd push around the sacred in- 
 closure, a light, soft footfall sounds on the turf, and Mr. 
 Jasper Vermont, the first of the "swells," leaps over the 
 railing. 
 
 Presumably he has come to cast a glance at the favorite, 
 but as he passes the Yorkshireman with the weedy chest- 
 nut he says, behind a sheltering cough : 
 
 "That will do. Take him off. The plant's safe without 
 him/' 
 
 Three minutes later a laugh of derision arose as the an- 
 nouncement is made that the rough-skinned chestnut is 
 "scratched." 
 
 "Quite time, too ! Who's his owner?" 
 
 But nobody knows, and nobody cares, for at that mo- 
 ment a gay and handsome cavalcade dash up. 
 
 There are two carriages, one with the ladies and 
 another with the grim baron, who detests a crowd even 
 when it is patrician, and prefers seeing the race from his 
 carriage to mounting the grand stand. 
 
 But the cynosure of all eyes is Adrien Leroy, the owner 
 of the favorite. 
 
 Handsome as ever, he looks this morning as indifferent 
 as ever, and perhaps a trifle more weary. 
 
 The King turns his head with a whinny that is all but a 
 supplication. Alast his master does not understand the 
 equine language, and the note of warning is lost upon him. 
 
 "Beautiful as a daisy," says Mr. Jasper, passing his 
 hand admiringly over the satin neck. 
 
 "Top thin in the legs," murmurs the Yorkshireman. 
 
 Adrien turns leisurely. 
 
 "Too thin, you think, my man? 111 lay twenty to one 
 upon them."
 
 So Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Done, sir" said the man, sharply. "For pounds or 
 hundreds ?" 
 
 "Hundreds," said Adrjen. 
 
 Mr. Jasper touched him on the arm, and whispered, 
 gravely: 
 
 "Rather hasty ! Plenty of money upon him BOW, don't 
 you think?" 
 
 Adrien smiled rather haughtily. 
 
 "Hundreds it shall be," he said, and turned. 
 
 The Yorkshireman touches his hat to Mr. Jasper as to 
 a perfect stranger, and the two gentlemen pass to the 
 weighing-seat. 
 
 "Where is Peacock?" asked Adrien. 
 
 "Oh, inside, peeling," said Mr. Jasper, carelessly. "He's 
 all right ; I have just been speaking to him." 
 
 Adrien passed on and approached the first carriage and 
 leaned on its window ledge to shake hands with the 
 Marchioness of Calne and her sister, the latter a young 
 lady with two special objects of regard Lord Byron and 
 the gentleman now pressing her small palm. 
 
 "And so your horse, that pretty creature with the long 
 neck, is going to win," said the marchioness. 
 
 "We hope so," replied Adrien. 
 
 "Oh, Lady Constance said it would win for certain," 
 exclaimed Lady Alicia, blushing at her own temerity. 
 
 "Oh, nothing is certain save death and the Three per 
 Cents," said Adrien, turning the grave regard of his dark 
 eyes upon her. "Race, horses are fickle as ladies, Lady 
 Alicia ; both arc utterly untrustworthy. But I think you 
 may bet on the King ; he's in fine form. Are you going 
 
 to the stand? Ah, here is Jasper !" as that gentleman 
 
 sauntered up. "He's your beau cavalier, I suppose, Con- 
 stance." 
 
 And as Jasper held his arm for the ladies, Adrien raised 
 his hat and transferred his attentions to the baron, whose 
 carriage was about to take up position. 
 
 The baron raised his hat in response to his son's un- 
 covering. 
 
 "Well, sir, why are they not started ? Have these rac- 
 ing fellows ceased to be punctual as well as honest?" 
 
 "There rings the bell, my lord/' said Adrien. "Can you 
 see here?"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 81 
 
 "Yes!" replied the baron. "Is the horse fit?" 
 
 "Admirably," said Adrien. "It is a certain thing I 
 think. I must go and take my place. The duke acts as 
 umpire. There is likely to be a crush at the fence, sir ; 
 you will enjoy that." 
 
 The baron uttered something in reply half contemptuous 
 of all things, earthly or heavenly, and Adrien made his 
 way to the stand. 
 
 The marquis, Pomfrey, Ireton, and the rest of the castle 
 guests had arranged the ladies, who were glittering like 
 doves in their seal and beaver furs, and eagerly learning 
 which horse was which and to whom it belonged. 
 
 Harsh cries from the betting ring still ascended at in- 
 tervals, though the majority of the crowd were still with 
 anticipative excitement. 
 
 Adrien made his way to the seat reserved for him beside 
 Lady Constance and leisurely unstrapped his field glass. 
 Then he handed it to her ladyship. 
 
 "Can you see with this?" 
 
 She tried it. 
 
 "Beautifully. What an excitement they seem to be in !" 
 she said, looking down upon the seething crowd. 
 
 He smiled. Beyond a hope that his well-beloved horse 
 would get fresh laurels for itself the affair had no interest 
 for him. To the fearful amount he had risked he never 
 gave a thought 
 
 And now, amid a sharp cry of excitement, they were off, 
 Rpsicrucian leading, Bluebell running close on to her, the 
 King striding leisurely along, and a little compact posse 
 pushing on its flanks. 
 
 "There goes the King !" exclaimed Lady Alicia. "Oh 
 I do hope it will win, don't you, Mr. Vermont?" 
 
 Mr. Jasper smiled. 
 
 "I do indeed," he said, and his little steely eyes rested 
 upon the shriveled figure of Peacock, the jockey, with 
 keen scrutiny. 
 
 Meanwhile away they went, Rosicrucian still leading, 
 Bluebell falling away, and the King creeping up easily to 
 the second place. 
 
 The first hurdle was hopped over feath'erly, the next, a 
 tough piece of obstinate thorn, threw Bluebell back. The
 
 82 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 King cleared it in his stride and threw a speck of white 
 foam on the haunches of the Rosicrucian, still leading. 
 
 Adrien nodded approvingly. 
 
 "That fellow knows how to ride," he said. "If he keeps 
 the King like that the race is ours." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Jasper, "he understands him. You will 
 see how nicely he keeps him cool till the spurt comes." 
 
 "Which will be at the last hurdle," said the marquis. 
 
 "Exactly," said Jasper, pleasantly. 
 
 Hedge after hedge was cleared and still the Rosicrucian 
 was leading ; but it was evident to all that the high blood 
 of the King was burning to get away, and that its jockey 
 was playing a waiting game. 
 
 Bluebell struggled on to the stream, but there, unen- 
 couraged by the way in which the two leaders had cleared 
 it, she refused and deposited her jockey for a cooler. 
 
 A laugh arose in the midst of the excitement, but it was 
 speedily drowned by frantic shouts of : "Now she has it !" 
 "He's let him go !" "The King wins !" "No, the Rosi- 
 crucian!" "No, the King!" "The King's got away!" 
 
 And so he had, for Peacock had deemed it expedient to 
 put the spurt on already, and the noble King, with a toss 
 of his veined nostrils, had darted ahead. Then they 
 raced across the level flat, cheered and shrieked at by the 
 frantic crowd. 
 
 The aristocrats on the grand stand felt their blood rise. 
 Ladies raised themselves on their hands and peered 
 forward. 
 
 Like lightning the two noble creatures neared the last 
 obstacle, a great hulking, grim-faced hedge, like a moun- 
 tain. 
 
 Neck and neck they seemed to go at it, as if they meant 
 to swallow it. 
 
 But suddenly the King darted forward, and amid a ter- 
 rific roar of astonishment took the leap too short, fell side- 
 ways, and pitched his jockey like a bolster a dozen feet 
 away. 
 
 Rosicrucian rose for the leap, cleared it, and seeing 
 nothing behind, cantered in. 
 
 A dense roar of surprise, dismay, rage, disappointment, 
 and a mingling of satisfaction, and the crowd, breaking all
 
 Staunch of Heart, 83 
 
 bounds, pressed forward to the spot to which the starter 
 and officials were already hastening. 
 
 A murmer of astonishment and disappointment ran 
 through the grand stand, and all eyes were turned to 
 Adrien. But he seemed the least concerned of all, as, 
 shutting his field glass, he said : 
 
 "Rosicrucian ran finely! I can't understand the King 
 hurrying that last hurdle. Jasper, let us go and see if the 
 fellow is hurt." 
 
 With Mr. Jasper at his heels he strode down the stand, 
 and hurried across the course. 
 
 The course hushed its clatter, and made way for the 
 owner of the loser to pass through it. 
 
 In its center two men the duke and the starter were 
 kneeling over the little heap of leather and silk. The duke 
 looked up as Adrien approached, and shook his head. 
 
 Adrien bent over the shriveled face feelingly. 
 
 "Has a doctor been sent for?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said the duke, gravely. "But I think he will be 
 too late his spine " 
 
 At that moment the heavy eyelids raised themselves and 
 the blood-stained lips trembled. 
 
 "He is speaking," said the duke. 
 
 The starter knelt down. 
 
 "Where is he?" asked the jockey, "where is he? I want 
 to see him?" 
 
 "Whom ?" asked the duke, "whom do you want to see, 
 my good fellow?" 
 
 "Perhaps it's me," said Mr. Jasper, coming forward 
 with kindly sympathy. "I know him. Perhaps he wants 
 to explain " 
 
 At the sound of his soft voice the jockey raised his head 
 and glared at him, then his glance fell upon Adrien, and, 
 With a sudden light upon his face, he stretched out his 
 hand. 
 
 "Him ! him ! the swell ! I want to tell him the race 
 the horse sold ! Him villian ! the horse !" 
 
 Gasping out these disjointed words, he glared first at 
 Jasper, then at Adrien, struggled to convey some warning 
 or explanation, but in vain. 
 
 With the last words he fell back.
 
 4 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "He has fainted !" exclaimed the duke. 
 
 "Allow me," said a gentleman the doctor pushing 
 forward, %nd dropping on his knee. 
 
 "Fainted ? No, I am sorry to say, he's dead." 
 
 "Dead ! dear me !" said Mr. Jasper; and one might have 
 fancied, but for the inhumanity and injustice of the idea, 
 that there was a certain tone of satisfaction mingled with 
 the extremely sympathetic ejaculation.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 "INCAPABLE OF LOVE." 
 
 The keenest pangs the wretched find 
 
 Are rapture to the dreary void, 
 The leafless desert of the mind, 
 
 The waste of feelings unemployed. BTCON. 
 
 At night, when the great course is deserted and silent, 
 when the noisy crowd has tramped back to London, and 
 the crooked form of the dead jockey lies covered over 
 with the white sheet, in the stable house, the silver draw- 
 ing-room is full of light and beauty. 
 
 The guests have dined, the gentlemen have followed the 
 ladies, and music played by dainty hands and trilled by 
 fair throats is making digestion a luxury. 
 
 Lady Alicia, watching her new friend behind the wings 
 of her sister, thinks him handsomer than ever by the mel- 
 low candlelight, and whispers so to the marchioness. 
 
 There is a little gravity upon his white forehead. 
 
 "IJe is thinking of the poor jockey," suggests the girl. 
 
 The marchioness smiles. 
 
 "Perhaps so. He is always gentle and compassionate, 
 though men say otherwise," replies the marchioness. 
 
 But if he be, he is the only one there so hampered. ' 
 
 On Mr. Jasper Vermont's brow plays a sweeter smile 
 than usual, and with the rest time swims by too pleasantly 
 to allow of unpleasant reflection anent a dead steeple- 
 chaser. 
 
 "One thing is certain," said the marquis to Lady Con- 
 stance, who had been sighing over the defeat. "He will 
 not allow any one to ride the King again but himself. I 
 heard him say so." 
 
 Lady Constance smiled, and sighed : 
 
 "Mr. Adrien has lost heavily?" 
 
 85
 
 6 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Immensely, I should think. More than he knows, but 
 certainly less than he cares. He thinks nothing of the 
 stakes so that he has the excitement. They are the mere 
 makeweights, the necessary formula for the proper con- 
 duct of the game. Oh, yes, he must have lost heavily. 
 Here is Mr. Vermont, he could tell us, I dare say." 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont smiled and shook his head. 
 
 "I am afraid to say how much," he said. "But Adrien 
 has himself to thank. You have heard, I suppose? He 
 gave the fellow a ten-pound note last night, with which, 
 like such creatures, he got deplorably intoxicated. Con- 
 sequences: an unsteady hand this morning, a hasty push 
 at the last rise, and a clear loss of the race, not to mention 
 the fabulous sum in bets. All Adrien's own fault ! If he 
 will be so recklessly generous, what is to be done ?" 
 
 The marquis raised his eyebrows. 
 
 "Just like Adrien," he said, and moved off to repeat 
 Mr. Jaspers story, which of course accounted for every- 
 thing, and lent an extra interest to the event of the day. 
 
 Oh, yes, it was his own fault, no doubt. If he had kept 
 the ten pounds in his pocket the jockey would not have 
 drunk himself incapable, and the race would have been 
 the King's. 
 
 To both causes and results the principal participator in 
 the latter seemed as unconscious as the dead jocky him- 
 self. On his easy lounge he reclined, listening and talking 
 with the old reposeful smile, as if the race wiere a thing 
 of a decade ago. 
 
 Tonight he would not sing, there were too many to 
 applaude ; but he arose twice to conduct Lady Constance to 
 the instrument, and stayed by her side during the song to 
 turn the leaves of her music. 
 
 The lookers-on, the ladies in especial, whispered behind 
 their fans that the match was settled, and sighed with 
 envy of the beautiful Constance's bliss in perspective. 
 
 But toward midnight the monarch of fashion seemed 
 to have forgotten even his beautiful kinswoman, and when 
 the fair faces and bright laughter had vanished from the 
 room, and the men had sauntered up to the grand divan 
 for a before-th'e-bed cigar and some Badminton, the weary 
 look had settled like a cloud on his lips, and he lay with
 
 Staunch of Heart. 87 
 
 closed eyes, wrapped in the incense of his narghile, like a 
 sultan asleep. 
 
 The duke reclined near him. The remainder were dis- 
 posed in every imaginable attitude on the broad velvet 
 lounges, Mr. Jasper among them, smoking an enormous 
 regalia, and provoking a laugh with some delicate but 
 sharp-pointed wit. 
 
 "Asleep, Adrien?" asked the duke, laying his strong- 
 hand upon his bosom friend's shoulder. 
 
 "No," said Adrien ; "wide awake and musing." 
 
 "What are you thinking of ? Counting up the losses ?" 
 asked the duke, with a short laugh. 
 
 Adrien smiled. 
 
 "No, I leave that for Jasper, who is the multiplication 
 table with legs. I'm sorry you fellows were let in. I 
 cannot understand it; but yet I suppose I should. My 
 fault, says Jasper, and I bow to his decision; and yet I 
 saw the man as he galloped past, and I saw no sign of 
 anything wrong on his face." 
 
 "Nor I," put in Mr. Jasper. "I was in the weighing 
 tent and saw him scaled. All right then. He was always 
 white and seedy-looking. I saw nothing wrong." 
 
 "Nor I," echoed the others. 
 
 Adrien puffed out a fresh cloud of perfumed smoke. 
 
 "The losses are heavy, I imagine, and yet I would 
 rather they were double, ay, trebled, than that the poor 
 fellow should lose his life from a horse of mine." 
 
 There was a quiet gravity in the deep-toned voice that 
 spoke of regret for which the light hearts around him 
 would scarcely have given him credit. 
 
 "His own fault ; it was suicide ! He put the King to it 
 too soon by half a minute," said the Marquis, angrily. 
 "The horse was not to blame ; he would have taken the 
 hedge and another one on top of it but for that unlucky 
 spurt." 
 
 "I believe it," said Adrien, rising. "No one shall ride 
 the King for the future but myself. Jasper, enter him for 
 the Cup. We will give him a chance to retrieve this day's 
 failure." 
 
 Mr. Jasper arose, and the two, amid a volley of good- 
 nights, passed into the corridor.
 
 88 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 As Adrien turned to ascend his private staircase he said, 
 quietly : 
 
 "Jasper, can I trouble you for yet another favor? That 
 poor fellow let him have a Christian burial in the chapel 
 yonder; and if there are any relations find them out 
 
 and There, you know better what I would do and 
 
 how to do it. Bon nuit!" 
 
 Mr. Jasper returned the kindly salutation and trod 
 softly down to his own apartments. 
 
 "Christian burial!" he chuckled, smoothly. "Oh, yes, 
 he shall have Christian burial in the family vault ! Lucky 
 for me the hound died when he did, or matters would 
 have been awkward. Ah, well, it is the risks and chances 
 of the little game that make it so enchanting. A grand 
 coup to-day ! Let me see," and smiling at his smooth face 
 in the glass he closed one eye and touched the fingers of 
 the right hand with his left. "Five ten with Yorkshire 
 Twining's last little touch ten thousand pounds ! Ah, 
 if these gay jays knew how the 'intruder/ the 'interloper' 
 as they call Mr. Jasper Vermont behind his back, was 
 deftly stripping them of their golden feathers, how they 
 would wince. Ten thousand! But Twining was too 
 risky. My grand knight might have smelled a rat. It 
 was like him, 'twenty to one/ because some stranger 
 doubts the strength of his horse's legs ! Oh, he has a 
 mighty regal way with him, my fine prince, a mighty way 
 with him, that 'tis well he can afford to pay for. Ten 
 thousand pounds ! Go on, Jasper, the game grows excit- 
 ing; you hold the winning cards. Gentlemen, make your 
 game; the ball is rolling." 
 
 With' this invitation to mankind in general, and his 
 noble and wealthy acquaintances in particular, Mr. Jasper 
 commenced to disrobe. 
 
 He kept no valet. Men of his character do not fancy 
 one pair of eyes so constantly upon them. "The man who 
 takes off your coat and parts your hair sees farther into 
 your heart than any one else," says a modern Rabelais, 
 and Mr. Jasper agreed with him. 
 
 "I am a simple-minded, rough-and-ready creature," he 
 often assured his friends, "and a man to tie my cravat and 
 worry me into wearing an uncomfortable hat because he
 
 Staunch of Heart. 89 
 
 happened to want a comfortable one for himself would 
 drive me mad.'* 
 
 So he undressed himself slowly, reckoning up his little 
 gains, smiling at his mask of a face in the large mirror, 
 and hatching his little plots with every knot he untied, 
 every button he released, and at last got into bed and slept 
 as softly and comfortably as an open-hearted farmer's 
 wife. 
 
 Not so Adrien, his friend and benefactor. 
 
 Dismissing Norgate, after he had removed the close- 
 fitting evening coat and replaced it with a dark purple 
 velvet dressing-robe, the heir of Barminster threw open 
 the windows of his dressing room and stepped out on to 
 the terrace. 
 
 It was a bright night and the stars were glittering like 
 diamonds on the satin of an empress' bosom. 
 
 The wealthy, much-envied Adrien leaned against the 
 marble balustrade and looked out upon the sight with a 
 sigh. 
 
 Before him stretched in seemingly endless vista the 
 woods and meads of his inheritance. At his side out- 
 stretched wings of the gray old castle, above him rang out 
 the heeled step of the watchman on the battlements, be- 
 fore, behind, around him on all sides immense wealth and 
 power, and yet 
 
 Well, he sighed, and mused thus: 
 
 "Grand old woods, sighing there with a thousand voices, 
 what does the wind say to you, or what are you telling the 
 wind? Are you mourning for the departed day and 
 dead-and-gone masters ? Days of glory and men of might. 
 Are you bewailing the degenerate race that now own you 
 and pining for some greater hearts and manlier hands? 
 Degenerate indeed. Who, looking at the grim old lord, 
 surly and sullen as a bear, would think him of the stock 
 of whom kings learned courtesy? And who still worse 
 looking at me, the pampered Sybarite of a degenerate 
 age, would guess that my ancestors made these same 
 woods ring to the tune of their war shouts and the clash- 
 ing rhythm of their arms ? Oh, degenerate days indeed ! 
 Hollow mockery of nobility and glory, when the greatest 
 feat is his who devises a new cravat or invents a fresh 
 entree!
 
 90 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "I /am very weary of it all. I am like the skeleton at the 
 emperor's feast. 'Man delights me not nor woman 
 neither/ Ah, there's the rub. Others find sweet consola- 
 tion in the 'grande passion/ Soft lips console them for 
 past and faded glories, sweet kisses lull their shame and 
 manly remorse to slumber. Love, that marvelous panacea 
 for man's heartache, soothes the galled vanity and jaded 
 agony of other men, but flies from me as sleep fled from 
 the blood-stained Richard. And wherefore ? Fair women 
 have smiled on me since my cradle days. Soft lips in 
 plenty were ready, nay, eager to lull me to content. Many 
 a score of dainty voices have raised their charm, to find 
 it powerless. 
 
 "And wherefore am I incapable of love ? Is this heart 
 of marble; am I fated to pass through this weary round 
 of days to the end without feeling the warmth of that 
 great, tender mystery? Where shall I find a sweeter, 
 lovelier face than my fair cousin's yonder ? A light burns 
 in her casement, she is still awake. Is it vanity or but the 
 plain truth, to remind myself that she is thinking of me, 
 and thirsting for my love? 
 
 "Can I not see it in every turn of her head, in every 
 glance of her dark, quiet eyes ? Then, why cannot I give 
 her love for love, take the first offering she would pour 
 upon the altar and mingle to the gods my sacrifice with 
 hers? Why? Why? Because my heart tells me that 
 Constance's face, beautiful as it is, is not enshrined in the 
 inner sanctuary of my soul. I know as if it were clearly 
 writ on yonder bright planet that I do not love her, that I 
 do not love one of the many fair forms that lie in my 
 path, and that until the divine flame springs hot and pas- 
 sionate in my breast I shall be cold and weary still. Oh, 
 love, well may the poets who rave of thee call thee divine 
 and mighty, if without thee life is but a tasteless draught 
 and pleasure, the Dead-Sea apples of dust and ashes!" 
 
 His hand fell on the broad marble slab as he uttered the 
 last words wearily, and at the sound of his voice, or 
 startled by his light step on the mosiacs, a casement farther 
 down the facade was flung open and the figure of the 
 baron stepped out upon the terrace.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 91 
 
 Adrien was in no humor to meet his father, was too 
 weary and dissatisfied with himself and all else to confront 
 the old man's satire and ill-nature with his usual respectful 
 calm, so he turned into the shadow of a buttress and 
 Waited. 
 
 The baron's quick eye saw him, however, and striding 
 forward he laid his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "Well, sir?" he said. "Can't you sleep, or is this the 
 new mode to spend the small hours stargazing?" 
 
 "I might retort in kind, my lord," replied Adrien, com- 
 ing forward with a smile. 
 
 "I am old, sir, and have thoughts more wakeful than 
 yours should be. I am old, and you are young." 
 
 "Say sad as well, sir, and woefully tired, and that is 
 worse, I think, than age." 
 
 "You have not tried the latter," retorted the baron, 
 grimly, fixing his eagle eyes upon his grand, reposeful 
 face. "You have not tried the latter, sir. And so you 
 find it sad ; the moods of present times are new and strange 
 to me. At your age I was well, if not happy, at least, 
 merry. You seem, sir, when away from other eyes, as if 
 you had taken Care upon your shoulders and could not be 
 rid of him. Perhaps you are thinking of the fortune that 
 unlucky horse lost you this morning; or perhaps regret- 
 ting that your friend had not broken his own neck instead 
 of his miserable tool's." 
 
 "My lord!" exclaimed Adrien, quietly but amazedly. 
 "Of whom do you speak?" 
 
 "Of whom should I speak but that baseborn cur who 
 insulted me under my own rooftree that bosom friend 
 of yours, Jasper Vermont? Are you blind, sir? are you 
 deaf? Did you not see were there none true enough to 
 you to point out the significant glances that passed be- 
 tween the dying man and his tempter ? Did you not hear 
 the villian's accusation of the demon who had killed him ? 
 Deaf and blind as the man who harbored the viper, if you 
 hear not its rattle and see not the venom in his eyes. I 
 tell you, vain boy, that Jasper Vermont bribed that miser- 
 able jockey to rope your horse, and that you have been 
 swindled out of the thousands this last amusement cost 
 you!"
 
 92 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Adrien's eyes blazed. 
 
 "My lord," he said, and his voice, though low, was as 
 hard and metallic as steel, "you wrong yourself in tempt- 
 ing me thus to wrong another. Jasper Vermont in league 
 with a jockey! He is as incapable of such villainy as I 
 should have thought you, my lord, of such an accusation. 
 But, forgive me, you have some proofs, doubtless; give 
 them to me, my lord, and if they are unanswerable I 
 promise you to punish as severely as you yourself could 
 w!ish." 
 
 The baron's brows knitted. 
 
 "Proofs ?" he repeated, sternly, but with a troubled twist 
 of the lip. "Do such villians work so clumsily as to leave 
 proofs? No, I have no proofs but the common instincts 
 of humanity. Your friend is a rogue ; it is writ on his 
 smiling, plebeian face, and it needed only the scene of this 
 morning to confirm my suspicions. Believe me, sir " 
 
 "My lord, forgive me," said Adrien, drawing himself 
 up to his full height and looking marvelously like the 
 austere, stern face he fronted. "Forgive me, you have 
 forgotten in the expression of your dislike that the man 
 you speak of is indeed my friend. I should be unworthy 
 of yourself if I stood meekly quiescent under such' an ac- 
 cusation against him, for such a vile charge falls on us 
 who clasp his hand. We share its indignity and it becomes 
 us to hurl it back upon the traducer. Prove to me that 
 he is the scoundrel you would have me believe him and 
 I will render you such due satisfaction in his punishment 
 that you shall be the first to cry 'enough.' Otherwise, if 
 you cannot give me anything more tangible than the bare 
 accusation, you but bind me closer to him by the wrong 
 you do him. Proofs, my lord, or " 
 
 "What?" said the baron, and his face grew pale and 
 twitched. "Nay, do not reply. I have no proofs. You 
 have conquered; but, sir, mark me, you have conquered 
 against your own good. From this time hence go you your 
 own way, hand-in-hand with that man. Let these eyes see 
 what they may, these lips shall utter no farther warn- 
 ing. Go, sir, to the doom which awaits all those who 
 place their trust in faithless curs. As for me I will wait, 
 and I prophesy that before the grave shuts out all things
 
 Staunch of Heart. 93 
 
 from these eyes they will rest on the agony of your be- 
 trayal. 
 
 "Enough of the viper. Now to fresh follies. Adrien, 
 you are a man. I am nearing the tomb yonder in the old 
 church. Barminster looks to its heir, and would have not 
 a wassailer, empty of heart and weary of religion, but a 
 man such as his fathers have had before him a man 
 Iwith man's duties and man's cares, but with man's 
 stake. Adrien, at your age your mother was at my side, 
 ruling with me beneath this flag ; at your age I had given 
 the house its pledge of a son and heir ; at your age I was 
 wedded and had left the lighter loves of the world for a 
 more lasting and responsible one. 
 
 "Strange stories reach me wafted here by malicious 
 tongues, no doubt of your life yonder. You live the 
 pace, they tell me, and call you monarch of the fashionable 
 world. Barminster Castle, the house of refuge to the 
 martyred Charles, looks for something higher as its lord 
 and master than a reveler among the scum of the earth. 
 I tell you, sir, at your age I was wedded." 
 
 "And loved?" said Adrien, softly. 
 
 "Ay, loved," exclaimed the old man. "Your mother, 
 sir, had had something which is higher even than beauty, 
 though in these days they tell me you have made it the 
 supreme deity. Your mother, sir, was that which ranks 
 above rubies, a good and virtuous woman, worthy of a 
 Leroy's love." 
 
 Adrien turned his pale, calm face suddenly and raised 
 his hand from the marble. 
 
 " 'Worthy of a Leroy's love !' " he repeated. "Find me 
 such a woman, good, virtuous, capable of firing the dead 
 passion in my heart, and I will wed her, my lord ; until 
 then " 
 
 "Find her for yourself, sir ; and, if you need a guiding 
 finger, I would point where others long since have marked 
 to Constance Tremaine." 
 
 Adrien's face darkened and he turned with a sigh. 
 
 "She loves you, sir," said the old man, "and you would 
 turn aside ! Pearls are thrown in gutters nowadays to the 
 men who neither know them for their worth nor stoop to 
 pick them up. She loves you, sir."
 
 94 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "And I " 
 
 He stopped short and paced up and down, his eyes fixed 
 on the mosaics. 
 
 "Will you learn to love her in return?" said the old 
 man. 
 
 "Will!" said Adrien. "To command love is beyond 
 human power. I cannot say 'I will/ my lord ; but if your 
 heart is set upon it shall I say 'I may' ?" 
 
 The baron caught his hand, then dropped it suddenly 
 as if ashamed of the momentary emotion. 
 
 "Well said," he exclaimed. "Act upon it but bah a? 
 firmly and I shall see the clouds lifting from your brow. 
 Give up the weary round of tasteless pleasure, fling the 
 cup aside, make Constance your wife, and give the house 
 a son to rule after you. Then well, praise comes ill from 
 my lips, but at least you shall hear no words worse than 
 'well done'!" 
 
 As he spoke he let his hand fall to his side, and, draw- 
 ing his velvet robe around his, strode to his window. 
 
 Adrien paused in his pacing and looked after him. 
 
 "Love Constance !" he murmered ; "would that I could 
 say 'I will/ but at best I can but say 'I may.* " 
 
 He turned as he spoke and with thoughtful brow passed 
 into his own apartment. 
 
 A moment after the casement above him opened and a 
 woman's face looked out. 
 
 It was marvelously beautiful but deadly pale. The dark 
 eyes swept the terrace with a flashing glance, then rested 
 upon the spot where Adrien Leroy had last stood. 
 
 The firmly-pressed but delicately-formed lips opened 
 slightly with a sigh, then a crimson flush flooded the fair 
 face and there wafted out into the still night air: 
 
 "Mine be the task, Adrien Leroy, to change that 'I may* 
 to 'I must' ! 'May* love me ! I swear he shall I"
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE MERIVALE DIAMONDS. 
 
 Plies were made for spiders, 
 And spiders make webs for flies. 
 
 The morning following the night of the conversation 
 recorded in our last, Mr. Jasper Vermont ordered out the 
 small traveling-carriage Adrien's stables and coach 
 horses were always at his disposal and returned to Lon- 
 don. 
 
 "He had business to do," he left word for Adrien, "set- 
 tlements to make at Tattersall's, but he would be back as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 So, with a coachman and a footman, Mr. Jasper jour- 
 neyed to London, serene, placid and filled with that satis- 
 faction which most men experience when they are about 
 to lavish other folks' money. 
 
 At the Park Lane House Mr. Jasper dismissed the car- 
 riage and the servants ; and, most respectfully received by 
 the servants, who looked upon him as grand vizier to their 
 sultan, Adrien, partook of a light but expensive luncheon, 
 and then, with one of his friend's choicest regalias, strolled 
 through the park. 
 
 The loungers and idlers who knew him nodded with 
 a forced smile of friendship it is politic to be friendly 
 and cordial with a man who has the confidence of the lead- 
 er of fashion; those who did not looked after him and 
 seemed to half nod with that air which says so plainly, 
 "There goes a wealthy, prosperous man." 
 
 Mr. Jasper's hat was off half a dozen times a minute to 
 the ladies of his acquaintance, his face wreathed in a 
 perpetual smile of recognition. 
 
 Presently, when he had nearly reached the arch, he met 
 a lounger with a face as long and doleful as a professed 
 undertaker's. 
 
 95
 
 g6 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Mr. Jasper stopped him. 
 
 "Well, Beau, how do you do? Been committing mur- 
 der, or have you married ?" 
 
 "Neither," answered the exquisite, a captain in the 
 ''Household," one of the fastest and most liked fellows 
 of the day. "Neither, Jasper, but I've just come from the 
 city." 
 
 "City of the Tombs," drawled Mr. Jasper, facetiously. 
 
 Captain Beauclerc laughed, but rather mournfully. 
 
 /'Yes, all my hopes are buried there. Beastly place! 
 They ought to stick over the wfest side of Temple Bar 
 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here !' " 
 
 Mr. Vermont laughed. 
 
 "Well, what's the matter with it, Beau, won't it lend 
 you any more cash?" 
 
 "Worse," said the young spendthrift. "It actually wants 
 me to repay what I owe it already." 
 
 "Oh !" remarked Mr. Jasper, simply, but his "oh" was 
 full of meaning and sympathy. 
 
 "Yes. That hard-hearted old flint, Harker what a 
 wretch he is, I should like to bury him. I'm sure he isn't 
 alive, unless he'sjihe living skeleton. Such a bag of skin, 
 bones and hard-heartedness. Well, there's a pretty little 
 tot-up in the way of bills he holds of mine, and of course 
 I expected to have 'em renewed as usual." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Jasper, "of course, as you have been 
 having them re-done for the last three years?" 
 
 Captain Beauclerc nodded. 
 
 "Yes, but the old fellow shakes that long head and says 
 'No !' and all I could say wouldn't change it. You know 
 the cock-and-bull story he tells? It's always 'Well, Cap- 
 tin Beauclerc, I should be glad to serve you in the mat- 
 ter, but I am not the principal here. I am a servant, a 
 servant only. My principal bade me call your bills in, 
 and I am compelled to do so. I can but obey. It is not in 
 my power to grant your request. The bills must be called 
 in and the usual steps taken if you are unable to meet 
 them!" 3 
 
 Mr. Jasper laughed quietly, but with sarcastic enjoy- 
 ment.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 97 
 
 "Of course; that's the money-lender's stereotyped ex- 
 cuse. He is never the principal, always puts the screw on 
 by another man's order. Poor Beau, I'm afraid he'll sell 
 you up." 
 
 Captain Beauclerc whistled. 
 
 "It will be a terrific crash for Lord Vane, you know, 
 Jasper. He can't give us younger ones anything more 
 than a small allowance, and it comes hard upon him when 
 we turn up like this." 
 
 "What's the amount ?" asked Mr. Jasper. 
 
 "Not much," replied the captain. "Only seven thou- 
 sand. But why do you ask?" he added, with a faint 
 eagerness. "Do you think you can help me ?" 
 
 "Well " said Mr. Jasper, slowly, eyeing his cigar 
 
 meditatively. 
 
 "I know one way," said the troubled debtor, "and that is 
 to get Adrien Leroy to back the bills, but I can't ask Jiim." 
 
 "But I can," said Mr. Jasper, smiling with conscious 
 power, "and I'll do it for you, Beau." 
 
 "You will!" exclaimed the captain, gratefully, almost 
 forgetting the impassability which his order consider so 
 necessary. "You will ! Jasper, you're a brick. I'm sure 
 he'll do it for you. What a fine fellow you are !" 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Jasper, with a smile, "but will old 
 Harker take Leroy's name." 
 
 "Why, of course, who wouldn't ?" asked the guardsman, 
 the cloud dispelled from his brow. "It's as good as the 
 Bank of England. Harker take it ? Only try him ! What 
 would he get by selling me up ? Nothing." 
 
 "True," said Mr. Jasper, pleasantly. "You're not worth 
 the price of that old broom, are you, Beau? Well, I'll do 
 it for you. Going to Lady Eveline's to-night? Yes? 
 Then we shall meet again at Philippi ; till then, farewell !" 
 
 And with a shake of his fat, smooth hand, the benevo- 
 lent Mr. Jasper went smiling on his way. 
 
 None knew where Mr. Jasper really lived. 
 
 He had private apartments in Adrien Leroy's Park 
 Lane house, and in Adrien's quarters at the castle four out 
 of the immense number of rooms were kept as and called 
 Mr. Vermont's suite.
 
 98 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 But the locality of that particular morsel of the globe 
 which Mr. Vermont sanctified by the name of "home" 
 every one Adrien included was ignorant. If ques- 
 tioned on the subject it was Mr. Jasper's custom to an- 
 swer, lightly : 
 
 "Home? What does such a waif, such a jetsam and 
 flotsam of the world's tide want with a home? My dear 
 fellow" or "madam," if the locutor happened to be a 
 lady "if you want me I am at either of these three 
 places : Leroy's town house, the club, or Barminster Cas- 
 tle." 
 
 And to either of these places his fashionable acquaint- 
 ances directed their inquiries for him. 
 
 But Mr. Jasper had a home, and it consisted of two 
 rooms on the first floor of an unpretentious house in 
 Mount Street. 
 
 Small, very plainly furnished they were, and without 
 the slightest pretension to that luxury without which Mr. 
 Jasper had often declared he should find it impossible to 
 live. 
 
 Here he could find shelter at any time of the night, for 
 he possessed a pass key, and by his orders the bed was 
 kept continually aired. 
 
 It was no uncommon thing for the maid who waited on 
 him to leave the rooms tenantless at night and find them 
 occupied when she arose to open the house, Mr. Jasper 
 having returned in the dead of night, silent and noiseless. 
 
 The second morning after his sudden flight to town Mr. 
 Jasper sat in his sitting-room before a breakfast so plain 
 that his fashionable acquaintances would have stared in 
 astonishment and doubted ocular demonstration. 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont, the epicure, the connoisseur of 
 sauces and authority on Perigords' breakfasting off a 
 plain, underdone chop and some liquid produced from 
 grinding and boiling dried beans alias coffee! Could it 
 be? Yes, it was. Mr. Jasper boasted to himself that he 
 could adapt himself to circumstances, enjoy expensive 
 cuisines at his friends' expense, and exist on and even en- 
 joy the plainest diet at his own. Before him, crowding the 
 small table, were piles of letters, sheets of closely-written 
 foolscap, slips of memorandum forms.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 99 
 
 Standing before him was a short, thin man dressed in 
 black. 
 
 This man was remarkable for two things. Firstly, for 
 die extreme pallor of his face; secondly, for the sharp, 
 restless, yet greedy look of his eyes. He was fearfully 
 thin, and his clothes of black hue and seedy, much-worn 
 condition, heightened his meager appearance. 
 
 He stood, one bony hand thrust in his waistcoat, his 
 eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 There was a look of such profound humility, fear, de- 
 precation on his face that his relation in sentiment to the 
 placid-faced Mr. Jasper, who sat voraciously devouring 
 his chop, could not have been more markedly servile and 
 deprecative if he had thrown himself upon the ground 
 and whined to his master to tread upon and spurn him, 
 
 While Mr. Jasper finished his chop and drank the re- 
 mains of his coffee the man never moved, never raised 
 his eyes; he simply waited patiently, doggedly, with the 
 servile obsequiousness of a spaniel. 
 
 Mr. Jasper pushed his plate away, wiped his thin, mo- 
 btle lips with his table napkin, and drew the heap of papers 
 toward him. 
 
 With keen eyes and quick brain he grasped the multi- 
 plicity of facts they set forth, checked the long column of 
 figures, struck the balances, and with a nod of satisfaction 
 looked up at the man waiting for a word to be thrown to 
 him. . 
 
 "All right, Harker, as far as I see, and, as you know, 
 that's all the way and a little beyond. A decent balance, 
 but we must do better than that. Now, where's the private 
 lists?" 
 
 "Here, sir," said the man, in a dry, rasping voice, very 
 quiet but very clear, like the creaking of an old, rusty- 
 hinged door. 
 
 "Where ? oh, yes, I see. Now, let me see. Oh, Pom- 
 frey has come to us, has he? Writing poetry is not a pay- 
 ing game, eh ? or is it the fine, grand company that runs 
 away with the golden counters ? Well, all fish or idiots, 
 that come to our net, eh, no matter what wind drives 
 them? Thirty percent, from Pomfrey ; no more?"
 
 ioo Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "I could not get any more, sir," said Mr. Harker, earn- 
 estly. "I tried, tried hard, indeed I did, sir ! I would not 
 give in until he threatened to go to another office." 
 
 "Hem ! well, I suppose it's the truth, though of course 
 all money-lenders are rouges ! and you're a money-lender, 
 you know." 
 
 And Mr. Jasper looked up for a moment, to laugh at 
 the logical joke. 
 
 "Who backs his paper? The marquis oh, oh and 
 my lord is pretty deeply on our books already, isn't he? 
 Where are his statistics ?" 
 
 "Here, sir," said Mr. Harker, taking a paper from the 
 heap. 
 
 Mr. Jasper glanced at it, and laid it down with an evil 
 smile. 
 
 "Oh, he's good for more than that, Harker; but be 
 cautious. We'll lend him money for another ten thousand, 
 but put another five per cent, on another five per cent. 
 on. Marquises must pay, to set the fashion to commoner 
 folk. By the way, Captain Beauclerc " 
 
 ''Whose bills you instructed me to call in, sir?" 
 
 "Yes ; well, I've promised to intercede for him with you, 
 and to get Mr. Leroy to back the renewal. Hah ! hah t 
 what fun it is ! Poor idiot ! He shook my hand with the 
 gratitude of a Damon ! Mr. Leroy will back the renewal, 
 and you will let it run. Beauclerc's the second son, Lord 
 Vane is on his last legs, and the eldest won't live another 
 year ; w'e can come down like kites when the gallant cap- 
 tain has the title and estates. Till then we'll wait, but 
 stick out for another two and a half per cent. Make the 
 calves bleed, Harker, make 'em bleed." 
 
 "And in the matter of the young artist, Wilson, sir?" 
 
 "Eh, Wilson ? Oh, yes. You sell him up to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, sir ; that was your command. He called yester- 
 day, and pleaded for another week. His wife is dying; 
 they are starving. He begs hard for another week " 
 
 "Stuff, another week ; the dog means another year. He 
 should have thought of the time for repaying when he was 
 borrowing. Another week not another hour. Sell him 
 up to-morrow! Mind, I say it. The dissolute dog! Did 
 not I hear him call me 'a parasite from the pavement.' one
 
 Staunch of Heart. 101 
 
 night at a ball ? Screens have ears, Mr. Wilson, and para- 
 sites have memories. Sell him up do you hear, Harker ?" 
 
 "I do, sir ; it shall be done," replied the man, meekly. 
 
 "And now for Leroy's account ! Ha !" and with a gleam 
 of fiendish delight he scrutinized the figures and state- 
 ments. "Hah ! you are getting them in fast." 
 
 "All Mr. Leroy's bills we are getting in 'buying up 
 wherever they are to be met with, sir, according to your 
 instructions." 
 
 "Right ; get him into your hands you know how, and 
 be prepared for you know what !" 
 
 Mr. Harker inclined his head as a Hindoo half-caste 
 does to a first-class Brahmin. 
 
 "And now for the women. Hah ! hah ! dear creatures 
 of butterflies will come upon the nasty, sticky papers that 
 were meant to catch the blue-bottles only ; well, then, they 
 must take the consequences. What ! the Countess Meri- 
 vale the fair Eveline. The disciple of De Musset, and 
 one of Leroy's loves! She wants to borrow money?" 
 
 "She dabbles in the Stock Exchange. I know her busi- 
 ness man ; he owes us money, sir, and we know his secrets* 
 She has been losing lately. She has deposited her dia- 
 monds, sir " 
 
 "Her diamonds? The famous Merivale diamonds? 
 Where are they?" 
 
 "Here, sir;" and Mr. Harker produced from his long 
 pocket a shallow morocco case, which he tendered with all 
 due humility to his employer. 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont opened the case, and gazed on 
 them with twinkling eyes ; then shutting it with a laugh, 
 he leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his fat, smooth 
 hands over his chin. 
 
 "And what will her ladyship do for them? And when 
 were those left ? I saw her last night, and by Heaven ! 
 she wore " 
 
 "Paste imitations, sir. I had them made up for her. 
 Did you think the counterfeit good ?" 
 
 "Capital ! Oh, is it not rich ? That old idiot must have 
 eyed her proudly, and gloated over his Merivale diamonds 
 on his beautiful wife's fair bosom, little guessing they 
 were Mr. Harker's tawdry glass mockeries ! Capital, Har-
 
 IO2 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 ker; but take care take scare. Remember madam the 
 duchess, who brought her jewels to pledge, and dis- 
 covered that they were paste already, and that the duke 
 had done the transmutation before her. Beware !" 
 
 "I am careful, sir, I am careful, very. I do not think 
 I trust there have been no losses, even small ones. I do 
 my best, sir, indeed I do my best." 
 
 "Well, I believe you. You keep up appearances, do 
 you ? Never forget to urge upon them that you are only 
 a subordinate, that you have a principal and act only on 
 his instructions! The more you assert it the more they'll 
 think it a falsehood. Keep it up, Marker, and then well, 
 you know I keep my promise. By the way, how is the lit- 
 tle Lucy?" 
 
 As he spoke the name, half scornfully, quite indiffer- 
 ently, a visible change came over the man his tool and 
 puppet. His face became paler, if that were possible, his 
 head dropped lower, his whole figure drooped forward in 
 deepest dejection, fear, supplication. 
 
 "Well, sir, quite well, and deeply grateful for your 
 kindness, your mercy," he said, wetting his dry lips. 
 
 "Ah, and well she may be, young hussy. A fine thing 
 for her! Married and respectable. Ah, if that soft- 
 hearted, simple little husband of hers knew all I knew! 
 Strange that I should have dropped on to her and that 
 young first lover of hers down in that quiet country place ! 
 Strange, wasn't it? Now, I dare say they thought they 
 were as safe as at the bottom of the sea. Didn't think 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont, a friend of the family, could be 
 stopping at the same hotel. Young dog, he ought to have 
 married her. Better that he didn't, eh? Yet that weak, 
 amiable little grocer, innocent and unsuspecting, lets her 
 have it all her own way and believes her just a little purer 
 and whiter than the angels ! Ah ! ah ! clever little thing, 
 Lucy. Makes him think she loves him, I dare say." 
 
 "My poor child loves her husband better than her own 
 life, sir," breathed the father. "Oh, sir, have pity on her! 
 She is so happy they love each other so! She is my 
 own flesh and blood ! Forget that cursed night, that fiend 
 who led her astray. Forget that she is anything but the 
 wife of an honest man. Oh, sir, have mercy !"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 103 
 
 "Well, Harker, I will. I'm all mercy. Do your duty 
 by me, and I won't go down and tell the story of that night 
 to Lucy's good little grocer husband. But don't ask me 
 to forget, my good fellow, for that's folly! I never 
 forget 1" 
 
 The man's head dropped on his breast, and with a quiet 
 helpless gesture he wiped the great beads of perspiration 
 from his white forehead. 
 
 "Thank you, sir, thank you, sir. I'll do my duty. I'll 
 work for you like a slave, like a dog. I'll give my life if 
 you require it, but spare my child my poor Lucy !" 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont leaned back in his chair and re- 
 garded the man's agony with quiet amusement and enjoy- 
 ment for a few minutes ; then he gathered the papers to- 
 gether, put them into the drawer of his safe, locked it with 
 a Bramah key, and dismissed Mr. Harker with a nod. 
 
 "You can go. Don't forget the Leroy paper, renew 
 Beauclerc, but sell that artist scamp to the last stick and 
 stone. Hah! Hah! parasites can bite as well as cling, 
 Mr. Wilson."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A STREET WAIF. 
 
 Alas, the love of women! it is knows 
 To be a lovely and a fearful thing. 
 
 Mr. Johann Wilfer, to whom we beg leave to introduce 
 our readers, was by profession a picture "toner," or, in 
 other words, a member of a gang of ingenious rascals, 
 who imitated the less known gems of the old masters and 
 palmed them off on the public and wealthy collectors as 
 genuine. 
 
 The impostures were very cleverly got up, and quite a 
 little system was instituted to bring them to a state of per- 
 fection. 
 
 Of that system Mr. Johann who was by birth of Ger- 
 many, where such artistic shams are most immensely 
 manufactured undertook the part of "toning," that is 
 giving to the imitations the necessary mistiness and dis- 
 coloration supposed to be produced by age. 
 
 He was very clever at his work, and the gang never 
 dared to put out a picture without his aid. 
 
 The way in which a mock Rubens, Titian, or some other 
 great masterpiece was manufactured was the following : 
 
 One man, most noted for figures, would paint the sub- 
 ject; another, who could best depict drapery, clothed the 
 figures ; another, more apt at foliage, supplied the trees if 
 there were any, and the skies and landscape fell to the 
 lot of the members of the gang best qualified for that por- 
 tion of the picture. When the artists had finished, the 
 picture was handed to Mr. Wilfer, who set to work with 
 various oils, tints, and chemicals, and give it the smoky, 
 creamy tone which distinguishes the great originals. 
 
 Then the picture was complete and a purchaser sought 
 for. 
 
 Of course the disposal of the sham was not the easiest 
 
 104
 
 Staunch of Heart. 105 
 
 part of the swindle, and here again Mr. Wilfer played an 
 important part 
 
 Dressed as a respectable mechanic, or a decayed city 
 clerk, he would commence the attack by waiting upon 
 some wealthy art collector and pitching a doleful tale of 
 privation and want, state that he had the old picture hang- 
 ing up in his room which he would like to sell, and which 
 he implored the wealthy collector to purchase. 
 
 The dupe, always enthusiastic, would as a rule jump at 
 the bait and hasten in a cab to Mr. Wilfer's house in Soho. 
 or to the residence of some other member of the gang 
 where the cunningly executed imposition hung, carefully 
 covered with dust and looking as old as Adam. 
 
 A price was named, and Mr. Wilfer would seem to 
 accept. 
 
 But before the time approached for the delivery of the 
 picture, the poor clerk or mechanic would call again and 
 state with great delight that another man to whom he had 
 applied before he had the honor of seeing the present in- 
 tending purchaser, had suddenly offered him a much 
 larger sum than the collector offered, and asked what was 
 he to do. 
 
 The collector, very much alarmed lest he should lose 
 the prize, usually bid over the supposed rival ; the picture 
 was delivered and paid for, and the gang shared the spoil. 
 
 Now, Mr. Wilfer might have thriven as dishonesty 
 generally does thrive, notwithstanding all the copybook 
 mottoes but for one besetting sin, and that was intem- 
 perance. His greatest idea of enjoyment was to be in a 
 state of drunkenness from Sunday morning to Saturday 
 night. 
 
 This course of perpetual intoxication had made its 
 'marks upon Mr. Wilfer's countenance, which, though not 
 'one looking) at the mottled face and bleared eyes would 
 believe it, had been a by no means unpleasing one in his 
 youth. 
 
 Mr. Wilfer had been a handsome young scamp, always 
 fond of his glass, and always leading a dissolute, ruinous 
 life since he had run away from school, and broken his 
 good mother's heart. She had not been the only one to 
 love him, for before the good looks had been washed
 
 lo6 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 out by strong drink he had won the heart of a simple little 
 country girl named Lucy Goodwin. 
 
 Lucy believed her lover to be everything that was good 
 and clever, and trusted him to the extent of her own be- 
 trayal. 
 
 Under some pretense the young scoundrel had enticed 
 her to Canterbury, and there had proved himself the ruf- 
 fian that he was by betraying the confiding girl and de- 
 serting her a few weeks after. 
 
 She was the only daughter of a widower, a clerk in a 
 country bank, who, broken-hearted at hits daughter's ruin, 
 threw up his situation, changed his name, and, accom- 
 panied by the poor, weak girl, fled to London, there to 
 hide his misery and his child. Alas; before he had been 
 there a month, a dark, smooth-faced gentleman appeared 
 at their quiet lodgings, announced that he knew of the 
 girl's escapades, and threatened to proclaim her shame 
 if Mr. Harker, as Mr. Goodwin was now called, did not 
 bend himself to his will. 
 
 What could the tortured father do but submit? 
 
 In a month after the interview a new money-lending 
 firm had sprung up in the dismal court of a city thorough- 
 fare, and the managing man wa,s Mr. Harker. The prin- 
 cipal's name never transpired, and though the silent, 
 moody, but hard-hearted Mr. Harker always insisted that 
 there was one, his unfortunate clients laughed him to 
 scorn, disbelieved his assertions, and declared that the 
 story was a fiction invented to aid him in his extortions. 
 
 Time pasjsed on. 
 
 Poor Lucy's pretty face and modest ways perhaps her 
 very sadness, which clung to her in never-ending remorse 
 caught the heart of a simple-minded man, one John 
 Ashford, a grocer in a small country village on the banks 
 of the Thames. 
 
 After a struggle against it the poor girl returned his 
 love, and ventured to marry him. 
 
 The villain Wilfer was supposed to be dead. None 
 knew her secret beside her father and kind Mr. Vermont, 
 and so she ventured to grasp the happiness held out to 
 her, and so strengthened the chain which bound her 
 father in slavery to Mr. Jasper Vermont's will.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 107 
 
 For if they, the father and daughter, feared disclosure 
 before, how much did they dread it now, when Lucy was 
 married and another heart must break with hers! 
 
 Meanwhile an event, one of those links which bind 
 widely separated beings by a lengthened chain and at last 
 brings them together to work out some inevitable pur- 
 pose, occurred to Johann Wilfer. 
 
 One day while he was lounging at his door and thirstily 
 longing for a draught of his enemy, a small brougham 
 drove up to the court, a lady, whose face was hidden by. 
 a thick veil and who held a little girl by the hand, de- 
 scended from her carriage, and walked straight up to Mr. 
 Wilfer. 
 
 "You sold a picture to a gentleman yesterday?" she 
 said, in anything but a ladylike voice. 
 
 "I did," said Johann, who had palmed off a sham 
 Titian, as asserted, to an old gentleman. 
 
 "Well, I'm his wife," said the woman, rather hesi- 
 tatingly, "and I have come to make you an offer. Are you 
 married ?" 
 
 "No," said Mr. Johann. "But walk upstairs." 
 
 The lady did so, and seated in the room, still holding the 
 child, lifted her veil. 
 
 Johann Wilfer knew the face instantly. He had seen it 
 at a theatre only the night before. 
 
 It was the beautiful Haidee Levison. 
 
 He looked at the child and guessed what slie required 
 of him. 
 
 "Pm not married/* he said; "but my sister lives with 
 me, a very kind woman, and very fond of little girls." 
 
 Miss Levison nodded. 
 
 "Will you take charge of this one?" she said, kissing 
 the girl, a dark, beautiful-eyed child, looking like a 
 young 1 Spaniard. 
 
 "I will," he answered. 
 
 "It is not mine," she said. 
 
 Mr. Wilfer smiled significantly. 
 
 "Needn't trouble to go into particulars, miss. The little 
 one will be well taken care of. What's the terms?" 
 
 Miss Levison named them. They were liberal and Mr. 
 Wilfer jumped at them.
 
 io8 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "You understand," said the lady. "She is not my 
 child, but I am anxious to keep her quiet. You will get 
 the cash regular as a clock, and all you've got to do is to 
 keep the girl" "gal" she pronounced it '"out of the 
 way, and answer no questions if they're asked." 
 
 "I can do that, I think, said Mr. Wilfer, with a grin, 
 and so the first quarter's allowance was paid in advance, 
 the little dark-eyed child was left to Mr. Wilfer*s tender 
 mercies, and Miss Levison took her departure. 
 
 Thus was forged another link in the chain of incidents 
 which was gradually drawing so many lives into the 
 whirlpool. 
 
 The inexorable Father Time still passed on, and Mr. 
 Wilfer kept life in his valuable charge and drank by her 
 means still harder, working at his sham pictures occasion- 
 ally, but generally dragging on existence on the allowance 
 Miss Levison sent him. It had come regularly, as she 
 had promised, but he saw nothing of her, excepting once, 
 when bitten by a sudden curiosity he went to the cabinet 
 which her new possessor, a certain wealthy and celebrated 
 Mr. Leroy, had purchased for her. 
 
 One day the gang of which Mr. Wilfer was so useful 
 a member dispatched him with a picture to Mr. Harker. 
 the money-lender, who, they had been informed, was a 
 likely purchaser of sham "old masters." 
 
 Mr. Wilfer saw Mr. Harker, and, notwithstanding the 
 change of name, recognized him. 
 
 The old man, on his side, never having heard the name 
 of Lucy's betrayer for she had kept it from him knew 
 nothing of his visitor, purchased the picture, intending to 
 compel one of his wealthy clients to take it as part of a 
 loan, a well-known trick of the dishonest class of money- 
 lenders. 
 
 Mr. Harker's principal discovered the imposition at a 
 glance, and saw in the imposter another tool. He in- 
 structed Harker to obtain a written guarantee of the 
 genuineness of the picture from the pretended mechanic, 
 and Mr. Wilfer, being half intoxicated, for once forgot 
 his usual caution, and gave the required pledge. 
 
 With that in his possession, Mr. Jasper had Mr. Johann 
 Wilfer in his power, and only left him undisturbed be- 
 cause he saw no opportunity of using him.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 109 
 
 When he wanted he knew that he had only to exert the 
 power which the clever warranty gave him and Mr. Wil- 
 fer would be his obedient servant, as so many better men 
 were already. 
 
 Quite unconscious of the sword that hung over him, 
 Mr. Wiffer went in for a good drinking bout. It lasted 
 for three weeks; then, when his share of the spoil had 
 melted, he returned and visited his rage upon Reah. 
 
 Braised and sore, she fled into the streets, where Adrien 
 Leroy found her, and Mr. Wilfer, having done his duty 
 by the charge, fell into a drunken slumber. 
 
 From this he Y~as aroused by the entrance of a gayly 
 dressed lady, darkly veiled. 
 
 He stumbled to his feet, stood, and half ''sobered, recog- 
 nized Miss Levison. 
 
 Her face was flushed, the angry light Mr. Jasper had 
 called up there by his sneers at her vulgarity was still 
 burning in her dark eyes. 
 
 It was long after midnight, and she had hastened from 
 the hideously decorated room in St. James* to Mr. Wilfer 
 on a mission of inquiry. 
 
 "Where is the gal ?" she asked, glancing at Mr. Wilfer. 
 
 "The gal," he repeated stolidly. 
 
 "Yes, Reah !" retorted Miss Levison, her jewels flash- 
 ing in the glittering candlelight. "Where is she?" 
 
 "She is not at home," said Mr. Wilfer. 
 
 "Is she dead?" asked Haidee, her eyes glaring. 
 
 "No, she ain't," said Mr. Wilfer; "not anything like 
 it, but as lively as a kitten. She's out, gone out with her 
 aunt. Gone to stay the night." 
 
 Haidee looked keenly at him. 
 
 "If you don't believe as she's adrift, go upstairs and 
 look at her room." 
 
 Haidee walked upstairs and returned. 
 
 "It is locked," she said. 
 
 "Of course ; she's quite the lady, keeps the keys herself," 
 said Mr. Wilfer. "Look here, here's her bonnet and 
 shawl, here'is one of her boots." 
 
 Miss Levison was convinced and breathed more freely. 
 
 "There is some money," she said, throwing him a packet 
 of coin. "I was anxious to know if all was right with the 
 gaL"
 
 HO Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Was you ?" said Mr. Wilfer, thinking, not unnaturally, 
 that she meant the reverse of what she said. "You'd be 
 quite cut up if you thought she had cut this mortal life, 
 I've no doubt." 
 
 She turned on him with a fierceness that made him 
 recoil. 
 
 "If anything happens to that gal/* she said, "111 hang 
 you. For, mind my words, for I mean 'em, I shouldn't 
 have cared then if you had put her out of the way perhaps : 
 but now I want her. Do you hear? I want her, and you 
 take care she's alive and ready when I come for her." 
 
 Then she left the room, leaving Mr. Wilfer staring after 
 her, and wishing that for once he had stayed his hand, 
 and not driven his charge into the old misery of the streets. 
 
 Little did Mr. Wilfer or Miss Levison imagine that 
 *he was at that instant asleep in Adrien Leroy's chambers. 
 
 We will now return to her. 
 
 Love is the universal epidemic, there is no inoculation 
 that will carry one exempt; given a warm human heart 
 and there is the natural susceptibility. 
 
 No matter the rank, no matter the sex time, position, 
 reason are cast to the winds ; folly, with a grin, casts wis- 
 dom from its throne, and both, hand-in-hand, yield them- 
 selves to the decree, both bow to the despotic monarch. 
 
 All must love. 
 
 Lady Juliet, the noble, moving like a celestial beauty 
 among the maskers, is caught by the fair hair and lan- 
 guishing eyes of Romeo. 
 
 Marguerite, the baseborn, passing up the cathedral 
 steps, is snared by the magic youth of the rejuvenated 
 Faust. 
 
 The beggar maid, threading her way through the mazes 
 of King Cophetua's camp, is stricken by the regal splen- 
 dor of his face and form, and dares return the admiration 
 of his eyes and love a king. 
 
 So it is from high to low. Love reigns supreme. 
 
 Dynasties break off short at the stem, kingdoms rock 
 to and fro, thrones totter and fall, crowns crumble into 
 dust on kingly heads; but love rules and lives on, im- 
 mortal, triumphant, unconquerable. 
 
 Long may he live and reign !
 
 Staunch of Heart. Ill 
 
 Reah, the street waif, whom a great and wealthy man 
 had found perishing in the cold and carried to the luxury 
 and warmth and the magnificence of his table, knew 
 nothing of all, had never heard of Romeo and Juliet, Faust 
 and Marguerite, or King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid. 
 
 All she knew was that she loved nay, scarcely knew 
 even that ; was conscious only that for a kind word from 
 those full, sweetly-gentle lips, for a glance of those dark 
 eyes, she would have gladly died. 
 
 Loved him the great, kingly creature, who seemed 
 something mpre than human in his beauty and his belong- 
 ings ! No, she dared not so much even in thought. She 
 longed only to see him again and yet again ; to worship 
 him from afar as a devotee kneels tremulously before 
 some terrible yet lovable god, and to clasp to her heart the 
 remembrance of those few delicious fairylike hours when 
 she nestled against his breast and basked in the sunshine 
 of his presence. 
 
 Poor Reah, how sweet and yet how bitter had been that 
 awaking in the gilded cabinet ! How sweet to find herself 
 there, awake and not in a dream, how bitter to know that 
 she had no right there and that she must go! 
 
 That splendid golden chamber with all the wonderful 
 undreamt-of things was not for her. She looked down at 
 her wet, dirt-stained dress, at her worn, ragged shoes, at 
 her cold hands and shuddered. She had no right there. 
 Should she take advantage of his goodness to remain and 
 sully the beauty of his palace for to her it was a palace 
 by her unworthy presence? No, woman-child as she 
 was, she spurned the thought, caught up her hat and arose 
 resolute. 
 
 "He will think Reah ungrateful," she murmured, with 
 half-closed eyes. "He will think no matter, he is great 
 and good, he will forget poor Reah before half an hour. 
 I will go to Johann and get my beating. This is no place 
 for me/' 
 
 Then, with a little, graceful movement, Oriental Egyp- 
 tian-like, she bent over the mantel and pressed her lips to 
 the spot where Adrien had rested. Quickly but passion- 
 ately she kissed his coat, the chair he had sat in, then, with 
 the noiseless step of a young tigress, stole from the room.
 
 1 12 . Staunch of Heart. 
 
 The sun was breaking through the mist, but she shiv- 
 ered as its rays touched her, and sighing trod wearily 
 Soho way. 
 
 It was all over, this little patch of fairy light in the 
 drear darkness of the girl's existence, and as she reminded 
 herself of its finish she shuddered again. 
 
 Looking back so far as she could remember she saw 
 herself quite a ichild in the room in the [Court with Johann 
 Wilfer and Martha. 
 
 From the first day of her consciousness of existence till 
 now this had been the first bit of sunshine. What wonder 
 that she was unhappy at parting with it. 
 
 Suddenly, as she passed into Oxford Street, she 
 stopped, struck with such an idea that the rich young 
 blood flew to her pale, dark cheek and flushed it into sud- 
 den beauty. Her large, southern eyes grew thoughtful, 
 then full of a strange light. 
 
 "Why should I go back to Johann?" she murmured. 
 "Can't I follow him the great gentleman ? Can't I be a 
 servant ?" 
 
 The answer came quickly enough, and from her inner 
 self. 
 
 No, she must go back. Of that service could she be to 
 such a noble gentleman ? No, she must go back. 
 
 And so, wearily, but still with that grace which Oriental 
 blood bestows though it run in the veins of a common 
 gypsy, such a street waif as Reah, she reached Johann 
 Wilfer's. 
 
 Mr. Johann Wilfer was not Reah's father. She knew 
 that, and nothing more. She had never asked for any in- 
 formation concerning her parentage nay, had scarcely 
 wished for any ; it was enough for her that Johann gave 
 her enough bread to keep life within her, and, when he 
 was drunk, enough blows to make that life miserable. 
 
 This virtuous guardian was out on an early drinking 
 expedition, and Reah stole up the rickety, dimly lighted 
 stairs, paused at the door of the living-room to ascertain 
 that it was empty, then ascended to the staircase to the 
 garret, which served as her special apartment. 
 
 It was as small and as squalid as all the other rooms in
 
 Staunch of Heart. 113. 
 
 the crowded court, but it was different from them in one 
 respect; it was clean. 
 
 A miserable bed of straw and a threadbare quilt, a chair 
 without a back, a washstand on three legs, and a triangu- 
 lar piece of silvered glass, the remains of, at its very 
 best, a cheap mirror, comprised the furniture. 
 
 This triangular piece of looking-glass reflected the 
 young girl's beautiful face in all manner of hideous forms, 
 as is the manner of bad glasses. The quilt just kept her 
 from perishing with the cold. But yet the mirror, the bed, 
 the room itself, were precious to her, for they were her 
 own. Beyond its sacred threshold Mr. Johann or Mar- 
 tha never passed. She had a lock and key to it, and to en- 
 ter now she unlocked the rickety door. 
 
 Locking it after her, she sank upon the bed and covered 
 her face with her hands, her head drooped forward, 
 thereby forming a picture of well-shaped hands and 
 framework of glorious hair that a painter would have 
 reveled in, and gave way to her tears. 
 
 It was natural to weep, but it was weak, and, with a 
 sudden gesture, almost Spanish in its intensity, she flung 
 her head back, arose from her drooping position and 
 stared into the mirror. 
 
 "I will not think of the beautiful place. I will not think 
 of him, more beautiful still. What, we ! Reah, a misera- 
 ble, dirty girl! How could he touch me, carry me" she 
 shuddered at herself " and speak so kindly ? Will he be 
 sorry that I ran away ? Will he be ! Bah ! he will laugh 
 and ask that proud servant to see that I haven't stolen 
 anything. Dirty little girl! how dared you go into the 
 pretty place?" 
 
 She shook her head mournfully at her distorted reflec- 
 tion ; then she sighed and went downstairs. 
 
 Mr. Johann had returned for a wonder, sober ; indeed 
 his condition was very much to be wondered at, for he 
 was in possession of the means with which to procure that 
 sort of beatific intoxication his soul loved. 
 
 He was counting some silver on the table, some gold, 
 too, for the girl's quick eye caught the shimmer of it, and 
 he looked up half fiercely, half contemptuously. 
 
 "Well, girl, where have you been? You're like a cat,
 
 114 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 or a policeman, never to be found when you're wanted. 
 There was a pretty lady wanted to see you last night a 
 swell, my girl. Ha ! ha ! But of course you were out of 
 the way. Where had you got to, you young cat ?" 
 
 "Anywhere, nowhere," replied Reah, who did not fear 
 him when he was sober, though she hated him always. 
 
 "Ah, that's the style ! The swell ought to have heard 
 you talk like that. She'd say I was bringin' you up well 
 ha ! ha ! Come here, let's have a look at you." 
 
 Reah never moved, but looked at him steadily. 
 
 "What, you won't come ?" he said, with a grin. "Well, 
 there's something for your obstinacy, little mule !" and he 
 flung a half-crown across to her. 
 
 The girl took it up and looked at it, then looked him 
 in the face questioningly. 
 
 "You're thinking I'm mighty generous, eh? So I am, 
 girl, foolishly generous," and he laughed mockingly. 
 "Well, what do you say if all the lot's for you, eh ?" 
 
 "All for me !" repeated the girl, stopping short in her 
 task of making neat the mantle shelf ; "all for me !" 
 
 "Yes, when you get it, little cat. Ha ! ha ! all for you ? 
 No, it's for me ; and I've a good mind to take that half 
 crown back. An idiot and his money's soon parted ; but 
 he's more idiotic to part with other people's. There, keep 
 the half crown and get yourself a rope to hang yourself 
 with. I'm going out. Tell that old ape, when she comes 
 in, that I shall want some dinner; a good 'un half a 
 pound of steak and a pot o'porter with a quartern o' gin 
 in it. Mind you remember now, or I'll break every bone 
 in your body," and with that forcible admonition the man 
 shuffled out. 
 
 After a few hours he returned, not drunk, but fairly 
 spiteful, ill-tempered and stupidly brutal. 
 
 Reah heard him stumble up the stairs and arose from 
 her seat on the floor she had been sitting there motion- 
 less and lost in thought since he had gone and prepared 
 to receive the expected blow. 
 
 "Well, you monkey, where's the steak and the liquor?" 
 
 "Martha hasn't come back." 
 
 "Hasn't come back? hasn't come back," mocking her 
 
 ,*
 
 Staunch of Heart. 1 15 
 
 stupidly. "Well, get out of my sight," and raising his 
 unsteady hand he aimed a blow at her. 
 
 She dodged it, passed him, and went up to her garret. 
 
 Presently she heard him stumble down the stairs again, 
 and gliding down to the room below saw that he had 
 taken up his post at the door. 
 
 A few minutes afterward, where she sat before the win- 
 dow, staring out wearily, hopelessly, she heard a voice 
 that sent the blood rushing from her face to her heart. 
 
 It was Adrien Leroy's. 
 
 She heard every word, her heart beating as if it would 
 burst. 
 
 How dared Johann tell such falsehoods ? 
 
 He would go away; she should never see him hear 
 him again. 
 
 Oh, what agony was there in the "Never see him 
 again !" 
 
 With a bound she reached the door then stopped, 
 sighed and shrank back. After all it was better ; he would 
 offer her money, perhaps (how little she knew him), 
 would say a few kind words, make her long for him more, 
 and the pain would be worse, worse, worse. No, let him 
 go, believing Johann's falsehoods, and let her forget him. 
 
 So she crouched beneath the window, and listened 
 thirstily to her benefactor's retreating footsteps. 
 
 He was gone. 
 
 When her brutal guardian came up she could have 
 killed him for his deception, though she had refrained 
 from contradicting it. 
 
 Then came the accusation, the attack and the escape. 
 
 She was out upon the world free, it was true, but free 
 only, perhaps, to starve. She wandered about the streets, 
 and gradually her feet were drawn toward Adrien's cham- 
 bers. She watched the door, herself hidden under a por- 
 ticQ, and saw the marquis and Pomfret come out. 
 
 Later on she saw Adrien himself and forgot her hunger 
 and destitution in the sight. 
 
 That night she slept, or rather lay, quiescent but awake 
 under a straw wagon in Covent Garden Market. 
 
 On the morrow she bought herself some food, and, like
 
 u6 , Staunch of Heart. 
 
 a moth still hovering at the candle, returned to watch 
 Adrian's door. 
 
 Then, failing to satisfy the hunger of her eyes, she 
 spent some few more pence and wandered out up the 
 'Hamstead Road, out into the country, aimless, purpose- 
 less. But at night she returned, and, learning from the 
 gossip of the footmen, the destination of the carriage 
 which stood at Adrien's door, waited at Lady Eveline's 
 for a glimpse of him. 
 
 There was no wagon in Covent Garden that night, no 
 shelter, and she crouched upon a doorstep, and her star 
 being hidden from her, watched those in heaven. Watch- 
 ing thus she fell asleep. Policemen turned their lanterns 
 on her, but, touched by the beauty and the innocence of 
 the face, let her lie without the awful ejaculation, "Move 
 on!" 
 
 Once a man, flushed with wine, staggered toward her 
 and was about to clutch her arm, but a something about 
 the face, its loveliness, its mournfulness, its helplessness, 
 touched and sobered him, and, with a solemn shake of the 
 head, he passed on. 
 
 Presently a dark-robed woman, passing slowly with' 
 weary feet, stopped and looked at her. She was one of 
 that new band of Samaritans who have sprung up in our 
 London streets with healing in their hands and pity in 
 their hearts a Sister of Mercy, belonging to no order, 
 following no set rules, who, dressed in the black serge and 
 white monastic bands, seek the helpless and the lost, and 
 strive to help and restore them. She stopped, bent down, 
 and, drawing her veil aside, looked closely at the mo- 
 tionless face. 
 
 Then she sighed and turned her head away. 
 
 "So beautiful, so young! I was once beautiful and 
 young. Can it be possible? Sister, sister!" 
 
 Reah awoke at the gentle touch, and sprang like a little 
 tigress to her feet. 
 
 "Johann, do not beat me ; I " 
 
 "My poor girl, no one will beat you ! Will you come 
 with me?" 
 
 "With you?" repeated Reah, then eyeing her suspi- 
 ciously. "Where? Not far?"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 117 
 
 "No, not far; but why do you ask? Do you not wish' 
 to leave the street? Is there any one you wish to be 
 near?" 
 
 "No," replied Reah ; "no," but she added to herself as 
 the Sister of Mercy took her hand, "She shall not take 
 me far from here/'
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AT THE CASEMENT. 
 
 But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, 
 
 To hear, to see, to feel and to possess, 
 And roam along, the world's tired denizen, 
 
 With none who bless us, none whom we can bless. 
 
 Harassed by that restlessness which characterizes all 
 votaries of pleasure, Adrien Leroy soon wearied of Bar- 
 minster Castle. 
 
 On the third day after Mr. Jasper Vermont's sudden de- 
 parture for town, Adrien announced that engagements 
 would take him to London, and his guests having already 
 left the castle, his servants prepared for their master's 
 journey to take place in the morning. 
 
 That night the baron dined with his only son, and Lady 
 Constance, whose soft, melting eyes for all their languor 
 were quick to observe, noticed that the old man's manner 
 was a trifle less stern and morose, and that during the 
 pauses in the conversation, in which he scarcely joined, he 
 glanced at the handsome reposeful face which so nearly 
 copied the hauteur of his own, with a thoughtful and 
 somewhat gentle expression. 
 
 "You go to-morrow, then?" said Lady Constance, as 
 Adrien entered the saloon drawing-room, the baron hav- 
 ing retired to his private chambers. 
 
 "Yes," he enswered, sinking into the soft lounge at her 
 side. "To-morrow at ten before you are up, sweet 
 cousin." 
 
 "For shame!" she said, with her high-bred laugh. 
 "You libel me ; I always breakfast with the baron, remem- 
 ber, and he is an early riser." 
 
 "Ah, I forgot," said Adrien. 
 
 Then, after a pause, he looked at her and added. 
 
 118
 
 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "What would the baron do without you, Constance? I 
 kiiow not. You are like a daughter to him." 
 
 Lady Constance's eyes drooped and she smiled faintly. 
 
 "Say rather he is like a father to me." 
 
 "You are a better daughter than I am a son to him," 
 said Adrien, still looking at her, and wondering why her 
 exquisite beauty did not touch him. 
 
 "You do not see h:m often," admitted Lady Constance, 
 who knew to a day how often Adrien had visited the castle 
 during the last twelve months, for had she not sighed at 
 his absence? 
 
 "No," he said, "not often. I have many claims, en- 
 gagments more than I can fill. How is it we see so 
 little of you in town ? We can ill afford to lose you." 
 
 "I am not over fond of the gayeties," answered Lady 
 poor, you know." 
 
 "Forgive me," said Adrien, quickly. "I had forgotten 
 who could remember it while looking at you so rich in 
 Constance. "And besides there is another reason we are 
 beauty and in grace ? Poor ! You are an empress, Con- 
 stance." 
 
 She smiled and toyed with her fan. 
 
 "An empress dethroned or rather uncrowned," she 
 said, softly. 
 
 He glanced at her, then looked aside. 
 
 Had her words any significance ? 
 
 He almost fancied they had. 
 
 Dethroned! Did she know of Haidee, Lady Eveline? 
 Uncrowned ! Was it possible that she could be as eager 
 for his hand as the baron was for him to bestow it on 
 her? 
 
 "Such a royal brow needs no crown," he said, ignor- 
 ing any significance. "You have but to smile, Constance, 
 and universal sovereignty is yours." 
 
 She arose, with a little laugh. 
 
 "Flatterer! I know not whether to smile or sigh at 
 your compliments." 
 
 "The baron would sneer," said Adrien. 
 
 Lady Constance nodded. 
 
 "Life is one round of mockery to him," she said, 
 gravely.
 
 I2O Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "And to me, too, I think," he muttered, inaudibly, "did 
 you but know it, fair Constance." 
 
 "And when will Barminster Castle see its heir again ?" 
 she asked, turning over the leaves of her music folio. 
 
 "When ?" he repeated. "I cannot say. Jasper Vermont 
 could tell you if he were here, I dare say ; he keeps the 
 memoranda of my pleasure engagements as methodically 
 as he does the business ones. Soon, I hope." 
 
 Lady Constance, who, however much she might have 
 disliked Mr. Vermont, never expressed it to Adrien, 
 looked up. 
 
 "Not until the next steeplechase, I suppose. What is 
 the next?" 
 
 "The Brigades two months hence, I think." 
 
 "The King will run, I suppose?" asked Lady Con- 
 stance. 
 
 "Yes, and I shall ride him," said Adrien. 
 
 She inclined her head. 
 
 "I am not surprised after that stupid jockey's blunder 
 and the accident," she said. "For the future then he will 
 run only in gentlemen's races?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered. "No jockey shall ever mount him 
 again." 
 
 "You will save some thousands by that resolution," she 
 said, looking down at her music again. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "I never thought of that ; but I dare say I shall. Jasper 
 will be delighted, he is always begging me to cut down 
 my expenses. I don't know for what reason." 
 
 Lady Constance glanced from the window thoughtfully. 
 
 "Surely he does not know of your immense income." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Adrien, carelessly. "Still he wishes me 
 to retrench. Jasper is a good fellow." 
 
 "Yes," said Lady Constance. "A most useful friend, 
 I should think." 
 
 "Indeed yes," said Adrien. "And now are you going 
 to sing?" 
 
 "It will wake aunt, I am afraid," said Lady Constance, 
 glancing at Lady Penelope, where she reclined on a settee 
 comfortably asleep. 
 
 "Never mind," said Adrien, "she will forgive you."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 121 
 
 He arose and walked to the piano, arranged the music, 
 and remained leaning on the instrument while she sang. 
 
 Beautiful voice, beautiful face, beautiful in everything. 
 
 Why could he not love her ? 
 
 That was the question he asked himself, and he almost 
 started when she ceased, and looking up, said: 
 
 "Have you forgotten the bal masque ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Adrien, candidly he never uttered a false- 
 hood even conventionally "quite. Forgive me. I prom- 
 ised to ask the baron, did I not ? And will do so to-night. 
 I now, one more song, and then farewell." 
 
 "Till Mr. Jasper allows us to meet again," said Lady 
 Constance, sweetly. 
 
 Adrien smiled, but did not answer, and Lady Constance 
 breathed out one of Byron's plaintive chants, and then 
 rose to wake Lady Penelope, who had slept throughout 
 the whole of the conversation and the melodies. 
 
 "Going, Adrien? Well, good-night, my dear. Oh, go- 
 ing to town to-morrow, too ! So soon ! I shall not see 
 you again then." 
 
 So, half asleep, Lady Penelope kissed him on the fore- 
 head and left the room, and Lady Constance a chance 
 if she could take it of a warmer farewell. 
 
 "Good-night, fair cousin," said Adrien, holding out his 
 hand, "and farewell, too." 
 
 "Good-night" she said, laying her white, soft hand in 
 his. - "Good-night, and a pleasant journey." 
 
 "Will you not wish me a speedy return?*' 
 
 "That might be an ill wish," she said, smiling, "'if you 
 do not care to come." 
 
 "That's true, or would be if I did not, but I do ; so will 
 say here is to a speedy return, Constance," and he bent 
 his head, and touched her hand with his lips. 
 
 The gems on her many rings flashed brightly, but not 
 more brightly than her eyes as she crimsoned under the 
 caress, and, sighing softly withdrew her hand and glided 
 from the room. 
 
 Adrien looked after her and strolled to the piano, letting 
 his fingers touch the keys idly. 
 
 "Beautiful as a vision! Wh'y cannot I love her?" he 
 asked himself again.
 
 122 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Then, with a gesture of impatience, strode from the 
 room and up the corridor leading to the baron's apart- 
 ments. 
 
 Next morning at ten o'clock the courier was waking the 
 echoes with his horn, and Lady Constance from her 
 stained latticed window saw the heir of Barminster, fol- 
 lowed by the servants and a crowd of dogs, saunter into 
 the yard. 
 
 He was to ride the distance, and his new purchase, the 
 cob, stood champing his bit in the courtyard and striking 
 fire from the flints with his steel-shod feet. 
 
 Adrien leaped into the saddle, and nodding to the man 
 at the horse's head, was about to start, when a sudden 
 thought seemed to strike him, and turning the cob around 
 he looked up at Lady Constance's window. She saw the 
 movement, and stretching out her hand unslid the bolt. 
 
 The casement flew open and revealed her beautiful head 
 framed as a picture by Vandyke. 
 
 Adrien looked up, bowed his head and kissed his hand. 
 
 She shook hers in return, and watched him with an 
 eagerness he could not see, while he made a gesture to one 
 of his men, who ran into the lodge and brought a sheet 
 of paper. 
 
 Adrien wrote something on this with his diamond- 
 studded pencil, and folding it, gave it to the man with a 
 message, then raising his hat again, he galloped over the 
 great arch. 
 
 A few minutes after the groom of the chambers 
 brought Lady Constance the note. 
 
 She opened it and read : "The baron grants us the bal 
 masque. We will make it an eventful one." 
 
 "We will if the fates are kind," she murmured. "I ac- 
 cept your challenge, Adrien Leroy. Let those win who 
 may. What a stake I fight for!" she added, glancing 
 around her boudoir and then through the window at the 
 magnificent vista of land and trees. "What a stake ! It is 
 worth an effort of wit and woman's patience." 
 
 To the astonishment of every one in the place, Mr. 
 Vermont arrived at the castle a few hours after Adrien 
 had started.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 123 
 
 He came unattended and riding a stout, fast-looking 
 hack presented to him by his friend. 
 
 "My lord has gone on," said the porter. 
 
 "Gone!" repeated Mr. Vermont, with an elevation of 
 the eyelids. "And only a few hours since. Then I must 
 have missed him at the crossroads. I came across the 
 heath." 
 
 He dismounted as he spoke and walked toward the en- 
 trance to the side hall. Several servants preceded him, 
 bowing obsequiously ; for next to the sun there is nothing 
 better than the moon, next to my Lord Adrien his friend 
 and confident, Jasper Vermont. But Mr. Vermont waved 
 them aside and entered the reception-room. 
 
 "You would like some lunch, sir?" said the house 
 steward, coming forward respectfully. 
 
 Mr. Jasper nodded. 
 
 "A simple something, Mr. Judson," he said. " *A glass 
 of Hunt Brion and a raised pie?' Oh, thank you, yes." 
 
 And Mr. Judson turned off to fulfill the commands. 
 
 Mr. Vermont dropped into a chair and sat calmly re- 
 garding the scene through the open window, and, strange 
 to say, a similar thought to that which Lady Constance 
 had put into words ran through his astute mind. 
 
 "It is a large stake and worth playing carefully for." 
 
 "Awkward, my missing him," he muttered, smoothing 
 the outside of his breast pocket as he spoke, under which 
 were some deeds and documents requiring Adrien's signa- 
 ture. "He would have signed them without looking at 
 them here; at his chambers he may, to amuse himself, 
 glance at the headings. Let me but get his name to these 
 and I can feel surer of my game. No need to trouble or 
 to doubt. However, as yet all has gone well. Would I 
 were as sure of all my chances as I am of him; but of 
 others there is no such certainty. For instance !" he mur- 
 mured, as the curtains swung aside and Lady Constance 
 Tremaine glided down the steps and passed before him. 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont bowed low and with that soft, oily 
 grace peculiar to him, and which, notwithstanding its 
 noiseless, half satirical nature, was not without its charm. 
 
 Lady Constance just lowered her head the slightest and 
 looked at him, or rather through him into worlds behind
 
 124 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 him, as a monarch would look at a scullion, then extended 
 her hand. 
 
 Mr. Vermont took it, pressed it, and suddenly let it fall. 
 
 There was a Mephistophelean audacity in the sudden 
 loosening of the white hand that attracted the haughty 
 woman's attention, and her eyes deigned to have some- 
 thing of interest in them as she looked at him again. 
 
 "I hope I see your ladyship well," said Mr. Jasper Ver- 
 mont, leaning against the window and half turning to the 
 view, and so keeping his own face well in the shadow, 
 while every feature of hers stood plainly revealed to him 
 in the lurid glare of light. 
 
 In such little matters as the arrangement of lights and 
 shadows Mr. Vermont could boast of a stage manager's 
 adroitness. 
 
 "I am very wtell, I thank you, Mr. Vermont Do you 
 know that Mr. Leroy started for London at ten o'clock ?" 
 
 "I have just heard it," said Mr. Jasper, "and was sur- 
 prised. It is rather sudden, is it not ? I understood from 
 him that he intended staying here at least a week." 
 
 This was shaft number one, and though Lady Con- 
 stance's well-bred face showed no sign, it hit home. 
 
 "So he had intended staying a week, had he?" she 
 thought, "and he had tired of Barminster and her in four 
 days!" 
 
 Mr. Jasper knew the thought as well as if she had 
 spoken it, and continued with a slight depression of the 
 eyelids : 
 
 "Yes, Adrien is changeable, one can never count upon 
 his movements ; following him is like wild-duck shooting, 
 down the river on Monday and up the fens on Tuesday. 
 I am sorry I have missed him, for I have a matter of busi- 
 ness which demands his immediate attention." 
 
 Lady Constance inclined her head. 
 
 "You will know where to find him ?" she said. 
 
 She put it as a question as much as an assertion, for 
 she was anxious to know where Adrien had gone. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Mr. Jasper, glancing at her from the 
 corners of his steel eyes, and aiming his second shaft 
 carefully. "He will be at the theater among his actors 
 and actresses to-night or at the Countess of Merivale's.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 125 
 
 Lady Constance's eyelids fluttered, and that was all. 
 
 "He is often at the latter place ?" she said, carelessly., 
 
 "Often nearly always," said Mr. Jasper. "The coun- 
 tess is a charming woman." 
 
 "So I have heard," said Lady Constance, moving to 
 the table and seating herself. "What is your last success 
 at the 'Casket/ Mr. Jasper?" 
 
 "Mine?" echoed Mr. Jasper, raising his eyebrows. 
 
 "Are you not the real, if not ostensible manager of that 
 expensive amusement?" said Lady Constance. "If you 
 are not the world gives you too much credit or wrongs 
 you to a like extent." 
 
 He bowed, smiled and stroked his upper lip. 
 
 "No, I have nothing to do with that whim of Adrien's 
 save pay the actors and actresses sometimes. He has 
 the entire management, and I am not answerable for its 
 failures or to be credited with its successes. I fear your 
 ladyship places more to my charge than I deserve." 
 
 Lady Constance smiled, and regarded him calmly but 
 keenly, a regard which he returned unflinchingly. 
 
 "We know that you are a great and a true friend of 
 Adrien's, and that you serve him most faithfully and most 
 amazingly. We are sure he is sensible of the inestimable 
 value of such service, and is grateful." 
 
 "You are most kind, Lady Constance," returned Mr. 
 Jasper, and in the words and the bow which accompanied 
 them -there was an infinite mockery more or less acute 
 for its careful suppression. "Dare I offer such poor 
 service to your ladyship, and protest that what humble 
 abilities I may possess are at your ordering?" 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Vermont," said Lady Constance, ris- 
 ing. "You forget that I have no need of such talents 
 as you possess. I am neither rich nor powerful, have so 
 few pleasures that they can well be managed by myself, 
 and, above all, could make no return for such disinterested 
 faithfulness." 
 
 "No return!" he said, with a strange accent, that ar- 
 rested her steps as they were carrying her from him. 
 "No return! You forget, Lady Constance, that disin- 
 terested friendship looks for none. You will not accept
 
 126 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 my offer of service, but notwithstanding I am still your 
 slave and if I dare use so sacred a word your friend. 
 
 His brow would have done credit to a Richelieu, and 
 Lady Constance returned it with an imperial smile and 
 glided into the lower hall. 
 
 Mr. Jasper raised his head and returned to his contem- 
 plation of nature in profound silence, which not even the 
 entrance of a choice luncheon could for the while raise 
 him from.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "MOST BEAUTIFUL, TOO BEAUTIFUL." 
 
 Let me as the wild-wood flowers be 
 Uncheered and solitary still, but free. 
 For charity is hard of hand 
 That weaves around my heart a band. 
 
 "A roof of thatch is better than that of heaven," is a 
 Spanish proverb, and means, no doubt, that the poorest 
 home is better than none, or that which the streets provide. 
 
 Reah, clinging to the Sister of Mercy's succoring hand, 
 was led from the silence of the streets to the still greater 
 silence of an attic in a quiet byway. 
 
 Here, seated by the remains of a small fire in a narrow 
 grate, she watched with awkward interest, that was more 
 like pure indifference, the efforts of the sister to get a 
 kettle of water to boil. 
 
 Soup was warmed for her, but for a time she refused to 
 have it. 
 
 The warm southern blood in the girl was heating itself 
 into fever, and she spurned even the hand of such gentle 
 charity as that which was extended to her. 
 
 "I am not hungry," she said. "Only tired, so tired! 
 Why did you wake me, lady?" 
 
 "I woke you because you were unhappy, and it was 
 dangerous for one so young as you to lie asleep in the 
 streets," replied the meek-eyed sister. "And you must 
 not call me 'lady ;' I am not a lady. Call me 'sister.' " 
 
 "But you are not my sister," said Reah, petulantly. 
 "I haven't any sister, or brother, or father, or mother." 
 
 "Poor thing!" said the sister, who while she had been 
 speaking had made up a bed, plain enough, but luxurious 
 after the cold doorsteps, and now helped Reah to undress. 
 "Poor thing, you are quite cold, and what are all these 
 bruises? Ah, me! why will men be so cruel whea 
 Heaven is so kind ?" 
 
 127
 
 128 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "I don't know," said Reah, who took the question as 
 one directed to herself and which she was expected to an- 
 swer. "I don't know anything. Besides, all men ain't 
 cruel. He wasn't cruel ; he was kind, oh, so kind !" and 
 she put up her hands with a deep sigh. 
 
 "He! Whom?" said the sister. Then as the girl did 
 not reply she looked hard at her and sighed again. 
 
 "Now you will sleep," she said. "And when you wake 
 I will give you food. Will you kiss me?" 
 
 Reah, with the impulsiveness of girlhood, threw her 
 white, gleaming arms around the linen-banded neck and 
 kissed the sister's pale face. 
 
 "Good-night," she said. "I am so tired, so tired." 
 
 The sister smoothed the coarse pillow, covered her with 
 a plain coverlet, and stole softly from the room. 
 
 When Reah awoke the sister was beside her with a cup 
 of tea and some bread and butter. 
 
 But the girl refused them. 
 
 "I am not hungry, I am not tired now either, and I wiK 
 
 go." 
 
 The sister put her hand upon her arm. "Not yet/' she 
 said. "Where have you to go?" 
 
 "Nowhere," said Reah. 
 
 "Then stay with me," said the sister, kindly. "See,' 4 
 and she brought a basket to the bedside. "Here's some 
 work; I will teach you to do this and we will live to- 
 gether. Will you not stay?" 
 
 Reah looked at the work, and silently nodded an ac' 
 quiescence. 
 
 But she sighed. To such a nature as hers freedom was 
 more precious even than life, and she felt that she was 
 bartering her safety for worthless food ; besides, however 
 could she follow the being who had been so kind to her, 
 so kind to her when even this gentle-faced woman called 
 men cruel ! 
 
 But she stayed and patiently worked all day, striving 
 earnestly to catch the knack of the needle and emulating 
 the tireless industry of the religieuse, who worked thus 
 during daylight that she might pursue her mission of 
 mercy and succor at night. 
 
 Thus passed two days, and then Reah's blood got rest-
 
 Staunch of Heart. 129 
 
 less, die narrow room grew stifling and unendurable, and 
 she pined for the open air as a caged blackbird thirsts for 
 its native woods. 
 
 The longing grew so irresistible that at last she suc- 
 cumbed, and throwing down the piece of work which she 
 was employed on, she arose, burst into tears, and snatched 
 up her weather-stained hat. 
 
 "I can't stay," she murmured. "I can't breathe. I 
 must go, I must see him or I shall die. I'll go before she 
 comes back. Oh, I wish she hadn't been kind to me. I'm 
 a worthless, miserable ungrateful creature." 
 
 And then she stole down the stairs very much as she 
 had slipped away from Adrien's cabinet, and gained the 
 streets. 
 
 It was the night of the day of Adrien's return to town. 
 
 Ignorant, of course, that he had ever left it, Reah found 
 her way to his chambers, and waited there patiently and 
 hungrily, in hopes of seeing him. 
 
 Then as the clock struck eight, she moved sorrowfully 
 away, and leaving the quiet squares, made for the crowded 
 thoroughfares. 
 
 "Anything would be a relief," she thought, after the 
 silent disappointment she had endured in that noiseless 
 square, and the crowds pushing and jostling her brought 
 her a wild sort of satisfaction. 
 
 The crowd was dense that night, diid at one point of the 
 hard-paved footway had culminated into a compact mass 
 awaiting at the door of a theater, and watching a hand- 
 some carriage that had just driven up opposite the brill- 
 iantly-lighted facade. 
 
 She was compelled to pause, and with the others she 
 watched the carriage listlessly. 
 
 But suddenly her indifference gave place to a feverish 
 eagerness. 
 
 The door had been thrown open by a footman and two 
 gentlemen had descended ; one was he, the man she had 
 enshrined in her inmost heart. 
 
 The color forsook her face, her lips parted, and she 
 swayed back, half fearful, half desirous that he should see 
 her. , 
 
 But he seemed not to see even the foremost members of
 
 130 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 the crowd, not to hear their murmurs of recognition and 
 admiration for a crowd will give vent to its admiration 
 of a man as often as it will of a woman, and as heartily, 
 if it be in a good humor and, with that half weary and 
 quiet look which she remembered and had marveled at 
 when he caried her in his arms, he turned and held out his 
 hand to assist a lady to alight. 
 
 Reah's eyes flashed from his face to the woman's, and 
 grew transformed to a dark red. 
 
 "She is beautiful," she muttered, breathlessly. "She is 
 beautiful and she is with him." 
 
 All her love was mixed with the gall and acid of jeal- 
 ousy. 
 
 She felt that she could have flown at the handsome face 
 and beaten it into the dust. Beautiful and with him ! 
 
 Oh, Heaven, what agony it was ! What had that beau- 
 tiful woman done that she should enjoy such bliss as to 
 lean upon his arm, to look up in his face, to feel his smile ? 
 
 The mad, passionate girl clinched her hands till the tiny 
 finger nails cut her soft palms. 
 
 Oh, had she followed him for this ; not to learn that she 
 is as nothing that she knew already but to see a woman 
 clinging to his arm ? 
 
 She stifled a cry, then stood silent and breathless. 
 
 He was speaking. 
 
 "Wait here at eleven." 
 
 "At eleven," she thought, "then he will come out then. 
 I will be here and see him." 
 
 She turned to push through the crowd, but having 
 gazed its fill it was not satisfied without a little gossip, 
 and with open ears she waited and listened. 
 
 "Handsome woman? I should think so," said a man, 
 addressing another who had made a remark on the lady's 
 beauty in particular, and the crowd in general. "She's the 
 biggest beauty we've got on the stage ; that's what makes 
 them so precious polite, you see. Besides, she belongs to 
 him. Know him ? Of course I do. Who don't ? That's Le- 
 roy, the richest man in London. He owns this theatre, 
 and a pretty penny it costs him, leastways not so much the 
 theatre, don't yer see, but the pretty creatures in it. Her 
 name's Haidee, and she's a Jewess. I've seen her often,
 
 Staunch of Heart. 131 
 
 cos my brother helps with the scenes, and I've gone on 
 behind." 
 
 "And who was the gentleman with them?" asked the 
 other; ''some celebrity too, I suppose?" 
 
 "I don't know his name," replied the first, "but you allus 
 see him with the other swell. He's a knowing one, you 
 can tell, and wouldn't stand much nonsense, but he ain't 
 like Leroy. There ain't the breed in him. There ain't no 
 breed in him. The other might be a dook for the look of 
 him, but this one's more like a Frenchman. Look here, 
 here's a regular Frenchman," he added, as another 
 brougham drove up, and the Due d'Olivier, Pomfrey, 
 and the marquis alighted. 
 
 "These are regular tiptop swells, mind you," said the 
 communicative individual, with all an Englishman's 
 adoration for birth, "none o' your makeshifts. That's a 
 born dook, and there's a marquis. Lord! this 'ere 
 Casket' is crammed with 'em to-night, 'cos it's the fashion, 
 do yer see, and it don't matter what's going on, or 
 whether it's amoosin' so long; as it's the fashion." 
 
 "Just so," said the little man, "and then Miss Haidee 
 is the fashion, is she?" 
 
 "Yes, she is," assented the other, "quite the tiptop. 
 Money itself can't buy all they wants sometimes. She's 
 got a house to live in like a duchess, eats off gold and 
 silver, and all for a pretty face." 
 
 Reah, sick at heart with jealousy and bewilderment, 
 for it is scarcely necessary to say that she did not under- 
 stand one-quarter of the meaning of what she heard, 
 turned away, and she left the crowd still gazing and chat- 
 tering. 
 
 The unfortunate comedy which Miss Haidee had so 
 strongly condemned had been hastily withdrawn, and 
 tonight a new burlesque was produced in its stead. 
 
 No expense had been spared in the mounting, as usual, 
 and Adrien's money had been poured out like water on 
 French costumes, gorgeous scenery, marvelous machin- 
 ery, and fifty other embellishments for the new piece of 
 elaborate and senseless burlesque. 
 
 But the people loved burlesque, and the "Casket" was 
 crammed.
 
 132 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Haidee, the popular favorite, could dance if she could 
 not act, and she could shout a vulgar patter song if she 
 could not sing, so what with the chance of receiving an- 
 other "hongkore" with the breakdown, and the string of 
 vulgar slang, she was bustling about the greenroom ra- 
 diant with anticipatory triumph -and vanity. 
 
 "Well, Mortimer," said Adrien, as the cynic approached 
 him where he leaned against a wing smoking a cigar 
 and languidly watching the waste and extravagance of a 
 band of coryphees, utterly indifferent to the fact that the 
 said waste was at his expense, "are the gods cheerful and 
 amiable ?" 
 
 "Very," said Mortimer. "They generally are at a sacri- 
 fice ; and you are a popular one of theirs. They like you ; 
 you bleed so freely and send such a sweet incense to their 
 nostrils. What has this piece of tomfoolery cost you?" 
 
 "I don't know, or care," laughed Adrien, knocking the 
 ash from his cigar. "Ask Pomfrey, he wrote it, and has 
 had the management or better still, Jasper, who pays 
 the bill. But this will be a success, Mortimer, and I 
 shall make a fortune." 
 
 "For Pomfrey and Mr. Jasper," interrupted Mortimer 
 Shelton, quietly. "Yes, I understand. Ah, here goes the 
 tigress. Well, Miss Haidee, haven't you a word for me ?" 
 
 "I hate you!" said Miss Haidee, flashing her superb 
 eyes at his satirical face. 
 
 Adrien laughed, and Mortimer joined it with evident 
 enjoyment. 
 
 "And I, to follow the copybook, ought to love you, for 
 that was truth. You do hate me, I know. Come and let 
 me open a bottle of champagne for you." 
 
 "No, I shan't," said the popular favorite. "Ain't you 
 coming to see me go on, Hadrien?" 
 
 "I can see you from here," said Adrien, indolently. 
 "You look charming, my dear Haidee, does she not, Mor- 
 timer?" 
 
 "Most beautiful, too beautiful/' said Shelton, bowing- 
 low. 
 
 Haidee pushed out her lips at him, cast a spiteful glance 
 at Adrien, and, accompanied by a burst of music, bounded 
 on to the stage.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 133 
 
 Mortimer watched her with a sneer. 
 
 "Hark ! how they applaud," he said, glancing up at the 
 crowded and delighted house. "What is Shakespeare's 
 rant to such a breakdown ? Long live Mademoiselle Hai- 
 dee. Shakespeare was an old woman and is out of date ! 
 Why don't you get rid of that painted vixen, Adrien?" 
 
 "Because-H I don't know," said Adrien, smiling. 
 
 "Because you are afraid of her," said Mortimer. "Ah, 
 you may raise your eyebrows, my friend, but it is the 
 solemn truth. Your fine nerves are so exquisitely strung 
 that you dread a scene as a musician does a false note, 
 and you would rather face a cannon's discharge than an 
 angry Haidee's hysterical reproaches. Bah! you are 
 cowards all of you, your wealth buys you nothing but 
 pleasures that dance hand-in-hand with pain. I'm dis- 
 gusted with the world." 
 
 "Then' why don't you leave it?" murmured Adrien. 
 
 "For the same reason that suffices you," said the cynic, 
 moving away. "We are neither sure that we shall not be 
 more disgusted with the next." 
 
 Adrien laughed, but there was a sigh at the end of it, 
 which was smothered with a smile as half a dozen pretty 
 princes in silver gauze clung around him begging for 
 bonbons. 
 
 "Do you girls think I am made of bonbons?" he ex- 
 claimed, without moving from his graceful position. 
 "Come, run away and be ready. Are you not called on in 
 the next scene?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Leroy, it is such a success, and we have 
 danced so hard, do give us some," they chimed out. 
 
 "Well, go to Mr. Jasper, and ask him," said Adrien, 
 waving his hand. 
 
 And away they ran, sweeping past Mortimer, who 
 shrugged his shoulders at the marquis significantly and 
 murmured : 
 
 "Always Mr. Jasper." 
 
 At eleven o'clock the crowd, hot, perspiring, but ex- 
 cited and satisfied, poured out of the "Casket." 
 
 It was a fine night and the groups of pleasure-seekers 
 were not melted away for half an hour ; even after then 
 the slight, girlish form still lingered near the entrance
 
 ii34 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 in the shadow of an adjoining house, her eyes wandering 1 
 from the carriage door to the entrance, where the firemen 
 were busy turning out some of the lights. 
 
 Presently what she waited for came. 
 
 The glass doors swung open and three or four gentle- 
 men came out laughing and talking. 
 
 "Quite a success," said one. 
 
 "Yes, for all but Adrien. Pomfrey, you have netted 
 something considerable ?" 
 
 "Yes," answered the author, with quiet satisfaction. 
 "It will run for a hundred nights." 
 
 "What a thing it is to be a popular dramatist!" sneered 
 Mortimer. 
 
 "Better to be a popular and beautiful actress," whis- 
 pered Paxh'orn, as the door swung open again, and Adrien 
 came out with Haidee upon his arm and Mr. Jasper Ver- 
 mont following. 
 
 "All here ?" said the sharp, clear voice of Adrien Leroy. 
 "Drive to my chambers. Duke, Haidee will honor us to- 
 night, and repeat the breakdown for your benefit. Pom- 
 frey, send your cab home; you must sup with us we 
 want to hear the rustle of your laurels." 
 
 There was a clatter of horses' hoofs, a confusion of 
 carriages drawing up, a woman's harsh, vulgar laugh 
 rang out above the rest and then they were gone. 
 
 Suddenly, while the girl's eyes were strained after 
 them, one of the carriages stopped and Mr. Jasper Ver- 
 mont jumped out and hastened back to the theatre. 
 
 Reah waited for him to re-emerge, which, after a few 
 minutes, he did, bearing a small roll in his hand, and so 
 quietly that Reah did not hear him and stood right in his 
 path. 
 
 With an oath he nearly stumbled over her for he was 
 looking at the papers then pushing her aside roughly 
 with his soft hand, said harshly : 
 
 "Get out of the way, girl. I have nothing for you." 
 
 A*>d he hurried oa 
 
 At the sound of his voice ReaV's face whitened, and 
 she drew back trembling and shaking.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 135 
 
 So great an effect did it have upon her that she re- 
 mained gazing after him long after the carriage had 
 rolled from sight. 
 
 Then with a shudder she drew her shawl around her 
 and moved away. 
 
 Before she had proceeded three steps her foot struck 
 against something light and white. 
 
 She stooped, and picked up a small roll of paper, and 
 carrying it to the gas lamp saw that it was a portion of 
 the roll which the gentleman had been looking at. 
 
 She could not read, so after a moment's glance of 
 curiosity, she slipped it in her bosom and walked dream- 
 ily on.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A JEALOUS WOMAN. 
 
 If all the world be worth the winning, 
 Think, oh, think it worth enjoying. 
 
 "Is it a Rubens or is it not? that is the question/' 
 drawled Mr. Paxhorn, dropping his eyeglass and turning 
 from a long survey of a picture which had been hung in 
 the Lady Merivale's drawing-room, and was now being 
 inspected and criticised by a select group of connoisseurs, 
 to wit, Mr. Paxhorn, who was an authority upon all mat- 
 ters of art, and whose word went for a great deal, per- 
 haps more than it was worth ; two or three artists ; Lord 
 Merivale himself, who knew nothing about his last pur- 
 chase, save that it was rather worn and dirty looking, 
 and that on the whole he should consider it dear, if he 
 spoke his mind freely, at a five-pound note ; the Marquis 
 of Standon and Pomfrey. 
 
 "Yes, that is the question," repeated the marquis; "a 
 splendid face. I should vote it genuine." 
 
 "It's extremely dirty and and worn out, isn't it ?" sug- 
 gested Lord Merivale, covering a yawn, and wondering 
 what on earth it mattered if the old thing were painted by 
 Rubens or any other brother of the brush. 
 
 "Heathen !" exclaimed his beautiful wife, tapping him 
 with her fan it was nearing midsummer and London was 
 hot "you are incorrigible. Dirty ! why, that is tone." 
 
 "Ah, no doubt," said the earl, turning away and gazing 
 up at a bull by Potter; "I don't know anything about it, 
 I admit." 
 
 "I tell you who could pronounce," said Pomfrey. 
 
 "Who?" asked the marquis. 
 
 "Adrien Leroy," replied Pomfrey. "He is an artist, 
 you know for perhaps you don't know, for he keeps all 
 his talents as secret as if they were crimes." 
 
 "A modesty quite unfashionable," murmured Lady
 
 Staunch of Hewt. 137 
 
 Merivale, whose face had flushed the slightest in the 
 world at the sudden mention of Adrien's name. 
 
 "Yes," assented Pomfrey. "Men proclaim their gifts 
 in the market place pretty loudly nowadays." 
 
 "And so Mr. Leroy is a painter ? I did not know that," 
 remarked one of the artists. 
 
 "Oh, Adrien is something of everything ; but, as I said, 
 you would never guess it. He is in town to-day." 
 
 "I saw him in the park with Jasper Vermont," said the 
 marquis. 
 
 "Ah, there is another genius. Now, Lady Merivale, if 
 you wish the genuineness of your picture authenticated 
 send for Jasper Vermont ; he will soon settle the question, 
 or any other you may put to him." 
 
 "Not always right," remarked Merivale, turning to the 
 group. "He pronounced for that horse of Leroy's, King 
 Cole, and his majesty did not win, did he?" 
 
 "No, I know it to my cost," said Standon, shrugging 
 his shoulders with a smile. "I had laid a lot on, more 
 than I generally risk. You see, Jasper is a good judge, 
 and really I believe the horse would have won, after all, 
 but for Adrien's ill-timed generosity." 
 
 "What was that?" asked the countess, languidly. 
 
 "Oh, he gave the jockey a ten-pound note the night be- 
 fore the race, and of course the fellow got drunk and 
 choked the King at the last hurdle." 
 
 "And the jockey was killed, was he not?" asked the 
 artist 
 
 The marquis nodded. 
 
 "Yes ; strange thing rather, but while we were crowd- 
 ing around to help him he went off his head and raved at 
 Jasper Vermont." 
 
 The countess turned her queenly head rather sharply. 
 
 "How do you mean ?" she said. 
 
 "Accused him of something or other," drawled the mar- 
 quis, "nobody knows what. Something melodramatic. 
 Of course it was only delirious nonsense the poor fellow 
 was quite off his head, though I think the baron took it in 
 serious part and half suspected " 
 
 "What?" asked the countess as he stopped.
 
 138 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Well, I don't know ; you see it was so obscure. Why 
 should Jasper Vermont sell the race?" 
 
 "Why, indeed ?" repeated Pomf rey, "considering he had 
 laid a thousand pounds on him, and that is a great deal for 
 him, you know." 
 
 "How do you know he backed Ad Mr. Leroy's 
 horse?" asked the countess, quietly. "Did he tell you so?" 
 
 "No; I saw the bet made on the course." 
 
 "With whom?" asked the countess, still quietly, but 
 seemingly unassured. 
 
 "With a little Yorkshireman ; the fellow who entered 
 that rough-legged creature, which he withdrew before the 
 start. You saw him, Pomf rey?" 
 
 "I know," said Pomfrey, "and a pretty haul that little 
 Yorkshireman must have made, for Leroy took a very 
 heavy offer of his, and what with Jasper's thousand it 
 must have been a hatful." 
 
 The countess sighed, satisfied at last. 
 
 "You seem quite grieved not on your own account, 
 Eveline, I hope !" laughed her husband. 
 
 She turned her face to the window with a sweet laugh. 
 
 "No; I lost a dozen of Jouvin's, that was all. I am 
 quite disinterested," she said, but a vision of a check she 
 had drawn for five hundred pounds arose before her as 
 she spoke and made her bitter. 
 
 "Oh, a dozen of gloves will not settle Leroy's little 
 book, I am afraid," said the earl, carelessly. 
 
 He shared the general opinion that the Leroy coffers 
 Were bottomless and their resources unfailing. 
 
 Her ladyship arose rather languidly, as if weary of the 
 subject, and the visitors, taking the movement as a sig- 
 nal for their departure, gathered from the various parti 
 of the drawing-room to say farewell. 
 
 But while the marquis was receiving the dainty hand 
 a noiseless footman threw open the door and announced 
 Mr. Leroy. 
 
 Lady Eveline's eyes just flashed for a moment, then 
 sank into their usual imperial calm as he came forward 
 and bent over her hand. 
 
 "I am so glad you are come, Mr. Leroy," she said, "you 
 can settle a knotty question for us. There is my last ac-
 
 Staunch of Heart. 139 
 
 quisition. Now have I been swindled or not? Is it a 
 .Rubens?" 
 
 Adrien nodded with a smile to the two artists, with 
 whom he had been shaking hands. 
 
 "You ask me while such judges are near? Cannot you 
 decide, Alford? nor you, Colman?" 
 
 "Well, I say it is," said the first. 
 
 "And I think that it is not," laughed the second, and 
 together they commenced a long, detailed criticism. 
 
 As they talked Adrien's downcast face was shadowed 
 by that inevitable look of weariness, and with a smothered 
 sigh, which did not escape Lady Eveline, he came closer 
 to the picture and said, quietly : 
 
 "Where two such lights cannot discover the truth who 
 may? I agree with you, Alford, and so I do with you, 
 Colman. A paradox, if you like. But both your argu- 
 ments are so convincing that if Rubens painted it and 
 were present to hear you, Colman, he'd be persuaded he 
 didn't ; and if he had not painted it you could almost con- 
 vince him, Alford, that he had." 
 
 There was a general smile at the artists' expense. The 
 earl laughed aloud, and in an extremely audible whisper 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "What a fellow he is ! Pity he isn't poor ; they'd gain 
 something at the bar." 
 
 "Rubens' touch," he said, examining the face, "and 
 what. is this?" and he pointed to a small weapon thrust 
 into the girdle of the figure. 
 
 "That is a dagger," said Alford. "Here where are 
 the glasses?" 
 
 "Thanks," said Adrien. "It is a dagger, and a Floren- 
 tine one. Ah, Lady Merivale, I am afraid your last ac- 
 quisition is rather a remarkable specimen of what a 
 modern impostor can rise to than an example of an old 
 master. That dagger is of comparatively modern fashion, 
 certainly not earlier than the eighteenth century. Rubens 
 died in 1640." 
 
 The two artists stared, as well they might, but were not 
 sufficiently acquainted with Leroy to express their sur- 
 prise at his antiquarian knowledge. 
 
 The marquis was not so reticent.
 
 140 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "By Jove!'* he exclaimed, "who would feave thought 
 you were up in dates, Adrien ? You will astonish some of 
 us one of these days, I do believe. Give a lecture at the 
 
 Polytechnic " 
 
 "On the vanity of human life and the folly of wisdom ?" 
 said Adrien, sinking into a chair and looking at the 
 picture. 
 
 "Eh what's that?" said a voice, which proved to be- 
 long to Mr. Vermont, who had spoken before the foot- 
 man could announce him. 
 
 "Folly of wisdom, Lady Merivale!" he continued, as 
 the countess gave him her hand, with a smile. "That's 
 like Leroy; he is always crying over the vanities of the 
 world, while some of us poor fellows, myself for in- 
 stance, are a* constantly crying for them.*' 
 
 The earl laughed. 
 
 "Do you kn<w, Mr. Vermont, you remind me of the 
 clown in the pantomime," he said, in his outspoken and 
 simple manner. 
 
 "Indeed, my Lcud; an innocent reminiscence, at least, 
 and that's saying a great deal," retorted Mr. Jasper, who 
 never stayed his tongue in the matter of a repartee for 
 lord or commoner. **May I ask why ?" 
 
 "You always ente* a room with an epigram, as the 
 clown appears on the stage with a bound or a joke." 
 
 Mr. Jasper bowed, with an amiable smile tipon his 
 close-shaven face. 
 
 "My lord, that is a high compliment," he said. "The 
 highest vocation a man can have is the amusement of his 
 fellowmen; and yet one higher perhaps is a doctor's." 
 
 "A doctor's?" repeated several. "Why a doctor's?" 
 
 "The man who amuses you," replied Mr. Jasper, slowly, 
 looking at the picture as he spoke, "makes life pleasant 
 and so does you a service, but the doctor makes life 
 shorter, and so confers a greater.'* 
 
 "That's good," said the earl, turning away with his 
 hearty laugh, adding, with half contemptuous good- 
 nature, "an amusing dog." 
 
 "A new picture, which means a very old one," said 
 Jasper, seating himself. "For it is the fashion to sneer 
 at modern ones. Nothing but canvas cracked like a blis-
 
 Staunch of Heart. 141 
 
 tered doorpost and brown as a red herring a member 
 of the pisces species with which you are utterly unac- 
 quainted, Lady Merivale are looked at by your collector. 
 For my part, art is nothing if it is not pleasing, and for 
 the life of me I can't fall in love with a snub-nosed Marie 
 of Dolci, or fall into raptures over a muscular apostle by 
 Michael Angelo. What is this? Portrait of a gentleman 
 of the sixteenth century. Hem! Very valuable, I dare 
 say, Lady Merivale?" 
 
 The countess, who allowed herself to be amused by 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont as she would by a pet monkey or an 
 eccentric dog, smiled indifferently. 
 
 "That is as one may take it. I have paid three hundred 
 pounds for it." 
 
 Mr. Jasper looked up out of the corners of his eyes 
 with what might have passed as a look of innocent sur- 
 prise, but what a keen observer might have been tempted 
 to describe as a twinkle of satiric enjoyment. 
 
 "Three hundred pounds ! And I dare say these gentle- 
 men, all good judges, have declared it a wondrous bar- 
 gain?" 
 
 And he motioned with his fat forefinger at the group 
 composed of the marquis, the two artists and Adrien 
 Leroy. 
 
 "Not at all," said the countess, quietly. "Mr. Leroy de- 
 clares it an imposture." 
 
 Jasper looked up with what might have been another 
 smile of surprise, but for a dash of angry impatience in 
 the light of his gray eyes. 
 
 "Oh, he disagrees with the general verdict. Adrien is 
 always singular ; and how has he detected the fraud ?" 
 
 "By the only weak point," said Colman, coming up. 
 "That dagger ; Rubens never saw such a dagger as that, 
 so could not have painted it." 
 
 Mr. Jasper smiled a long-prolonged smile, that seemed 
 to mock the picture as if it were a living thing. 
 
 "Capital !" he said. "The rogue who palmed the little 
 imposition upon you was not an antiquarian; poor fel- 
 low, how should he have guessed that one of his critics 
 should be so clever? Ah, ha ! and so you send the picture 
 back and threaten the painter with the stocks and all
 
 142 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 sorts of pains and penalties for passing his own rubbish 
 oil as the rubbish of Rubens ?" 
 
 The earl smiled. 
 
 "Scarcely," he said. "I wrote the check last night ; by 
 this time it is cashed, so that the swindle is thoroughly 
 accomplished." 
 
 Mr. Jasper arose with a smile that was genuine, if any 
 he ever wore were. 
 
 "Well, don't you think the fellow deserves his spoil, 
 my lord? It is a clever piece of counterfeit to deceive 
 such great lights. And now, Lady Merivale, let me dis- 
 charge the object of my visit, and so earn your pardon 
 for my intrusion. 
 
 "Grisi sings tomorrow at the duke's," he added, seat- 
 ing himself near Lady Eveline, and speaking in an un- 
 dertone. 
 
 "Thank you," she said. "How good of you to find out 
 for me! It was kept such a secret. How did you dis- 
 cover it ?" 
 
 "Ah!" said Mr. Jasper, elevating his eyebrows. "If I 
 tell you that it would be bad policy. I may have dis- 
 covered it so easily that my services as solver of mysteries 
 would sink to insignificance, and Lady Merivale would 
 think lightly of that very piece of conjuring which she 
 now so marvels at. But no matter how. Little birds 
 whisper to Jasper Vermont as he walks in the park, or 
 mystic visitants from the other regions float at his side as 
 potent familiars ; no matter, Grisi sings, and so it will be 
 worth while your ladyship's acceptance. She always sings 
 better in private than public, you know." 
 
 He arose, hat in hand. 
 
 "And now I am off on another mission. My Croesus 
 has a fresh whim, if one dare call his serene highness" 
 desires by such a light name. What think you is his last 
 desire ?" 
 
 "That is beyond the pale of conjecture," said Lady Eve- 
 line, glancing under her lids at Adrien, where he stood 
 still talking, or rather listening. 
 
 "What say you, my lady, to a summer palace on the 
 banks of the Arno?"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 143 
 
 "And already one on the Bosphorus," said Lady 
 Merivale. 
 
 "Of which," said Mr. Jasper, "he is quite weary. Oh, 
 Lady Merivale, Croesus need well be rich with such a 
 restless disposition. The world is not large enough for 
 him; he is like the mouse that turns the wheel in his 
 pretty cage always going up and round and round, but 
 never getting any higher or any farther. Tomorrow we 
 meet at Philippi, then. Are there any other commands?" 
 
 "None," said Lady Eveline, smiling. "Good-by." 
 
 And Mr. Jasper, after lingering to fire another epi- 
 gram, softly and amiably departed. 
 
 One by one the others followed until Adrien Leroy re- 
 mained alone with the countess, then all Lady Eveline's 
 assumed calm melted, and her face flushed with a rich 
 crimson, as she turned to him with outstretched hands, 
 grandly reproachful. 
 
 "You have not quite forgotten me, then!" 
 
 "Forgotten you, Eveline!" he said, taking one of the 
 outstretched hands and raising it to his lips, perhaps to 
 hide the sigh of weariness. "That were impossible. Do 
 not reproach me for an absence which was unavoidable. 
 I am the hardest worked man in London, I really believe : 
 not an hour seems my own, and if it be, you know that I 
 would spend it with you." 
 
 "You have been to Barminster again," said the beauti- 
 ful woman, turning her face from him and biting her lip 
 with jealousy. "Is it true, Adrien?" 
 
 "Is what true?" he asked, flinging himself upon the 
 couch and preparing himself to bear what he detested a 
 scene of mock love and self-tormenting jealousy on the 
 part of his beautiful companion. "I am almost tempted to 
 reply 'No' without asking you to specify. So few things 
 are true on this earth. But of what do you ask, Eveline ?" 
 
 "This rumor one hears from all sides." 
 
 "What rumor?" he asked, languidly. 
 
 "That you will marry Lady Constance Tremaine." 
 
 He stroked his mustache and looked at her so long and 
 dreamily that she was almost inclined to think he had for- 
 gotten her question and her presence. 
 
 "Silence is an affirmative in such a question," she said,
 
 <>'44 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 fanning herself slowly, but with a restless flash of the 
 ye that told of inward excitement. 
 
 "Not always," he replied, rising. "I was silent because 
 . could not answer your question, my dear Eveline, At 
 this moment I know not if I shall marry Lady Constance 
 or not, but give me your hand you know how distaste- 
 ful such a question must be, my fair queen ; but if I think 
 of doing so rest assured you shall be the first to hear of it. 
 Never doubt the fidelity of your slave, carissima. A 
 Leroy is never false though very often a slave to folly 
 as well as love." 
 
 There was no resisting the soft tone, the gentle caress 
 of his white strong hand, and the countess allowed her- 
 self to be pacified and conciliated. 
 
 "And now you will go, I suppose?" she murmured, 
 bending toward him and turning the rings on IMS finger 
 pensively. "Go and forget me." 
 
 "On the contrary, I will do no such thing," lie said. 
 "You shall make yourself comfortable in this nest of 
 cushions by the veranda and I, at your feet, will *ead 
 what? Something of Tennyson's, soft and dtilcet, or a 
 smooth flowing lyric of Barrett Browning's? Where 
 are the books? There?" 
 
 And, with a graceful and indolent smile so full of that 
 mystic charm which threw a glamour over his lightest 
 speech and most ordinary movement, he arranged the 
 silken cushions around her, reached a book from the in- 
 laid shelf, and, making himself also comfortable, read 
 aloud in a low, clear tone some love lyric, as unreal but 
 pretty as the love at which they were playing themselves. 
 
 The regular, musical tones of his voice lulled the beau- 
 tiful countess to a dreamful slumber, and, looking up, he 
 smiled as he saw her closed eyelids, dropped the book 
 on the cushions before him, looking out on the park with 
 a mournful gaze. 
 
 Presently the countess awoke, started slightly, and 
 with some slight shadow of embarrassment, said: 
 
 "You have stopped ; you are tired ; how cruel of me to 
 let you read in this heat, and how good of you, Adrien, 
 to do it!" 
 
 "You are tired, not I," he said. "Have you been asleep,
 
 Staunch of Heart. 145 
 
 my queen? I am amply repaid if I have given those 
 bright eyes rest. Five o'clock ! The time goes with swift 
 wings in the court of love ! I must say adieu, for I dine 
 early to-night" 
 
 "Where are you going then?" she asked. 
 
 "To the theatre," he said. "There is a supper which I 
 have promised the duke." 
 
 "Good-by, then," she sighed. "Ah! how I envy every 
 one else who sees more of you than I do, Adrien!" 
 
 "My thoughts are with you often, fair queen, though 
 this poor body is elsewhere. Farewell ;" and with another 
 caress of the soft and jeweled hand, he left the room, 
 stopping in the marble-walled corridor to adjust a flower 
 she had placed in his coat, and muttering, as he did so, 
 "Hothouse flowers, as frail as hothouse love. Would that 
 she gave them to some one less weary of both."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "WHERE is SHE?" 
 
 How absolute the knave is! We must speak 
 By the card, or equivocation will undo us. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Adrian Leroy dined alone that evening, a most unusual 
 solitude for him, and Norgate, behind his chair, noticed 
 how thoughtful and languid his master seemed. 
 
 "Getting tired of London," thought the astute servant. 
 "We shall be off to the Spas, or the Bosphorus. Strange 
 how these gentlemen get knocked up with enjoyment. 
 He looks as tired of it as a dancing monkey might. The 
 claret, sir? yes." 
 
 The dinner over Adrien lay on the soft, low couch in 
 his small but elegant divan, and smoked a cigar in pro- 
 found meditation, or sleep, for his eyes were closed and 
 every limb was motionless. 
 
 Unlike most votaries of pleasure, he was far from un- 
 happy when alone, and could find a charm in solitude 
 which other men when so steeped in the delights of lux- 
 urious life might have sought for in vain. 
 
 Thrown on his resources, Adrien Leroy could call 
 up a rich flood of memories stored up by study and a not 
 inconsiderable course of reading. His was a powerful, 
 highly-cultivated mind that lay fallow and seldom used. 
 
 Grand ideas, poetic fancies, artistic and ambitious 
 dreams were there, asleep and dormant. Of what use 
 were they to the heir of Barminster, to the monarch of 
 fashion for whom the world strove hard to supply daily 
 the preventives to thought? 
 
 Had he been a poorer, an unknown man, he might have 
 arisen to a fame eclipsing that of the world's greatest 
 names; but lapped in luxury and lulled by dulcet strains 
 of fashionable homage, he lay supine and quiescent, dis- 
 satisfied, but apathetic. 
 
 The clock striking seven aroused him from his reverie, 
 
 au
 
 Staunch of Heart. 147 
 
 and telling Norgate not to sit up for him, he set off for 
 the "Casket," dismissing the brougham and deciding to 
 walk through the park. 
 
 It wlas a beautiful evening, the park, growing cool and 
 quiet, was inviting and refreshing. 
 
 Some of the by-walks were empty, and tempted by one 
 of them Adrien Leroy left the broad walk and turned 
 aside. 
 
 It was a shady nook, in which the kind authorities had 
 caused a seat to be erected. 
 
 "Half-past seven," he mused. "It will be hot in the 
 theater, and I am out of humor. A cigar out here will 
 set me right and brace me up for the wits and Haidee's 
 vulgarity. I'll have it." 
 
 So saying he extended himself full length on the hard 
 seat, lit a cigar, and fell to a reverie. 
 
 An hour passed, perhaps two dreaming indolently, 
 he had lost count of the time, forgotten the theater 
 in the pleasant quietude of the spot. 
 
 His cigar was smoked to an inch, the closing time was 
 past, and with a sigh he arose to exchange the hard seat 
 for a lounge at the side wings of his theater among the 
 crowd of ballet girls and the gas jets. 
 
 As he picked up his stick, which had fallen to the 
 ground, he heard a footstep behind him, and turning, saw 
 an ill-dressed, scowling-looking man approaching him. 
 
 Something about the stout, shambling figure or the 
 dirty, evil-browed face seemed familiar to him, and, with 
 the stick in his hand, he stood regarding it for a moment. 
 
 To his surprise the man stopped when he reached him, 
 and nodding with a sulky frown, said, in a thick, sullen 
 voice : 
 
 "Good-evening. Don't remember me it seems?" 
 
 "I do not," said Adrien Leroy, quietly scanning the 
 bleared, swollen face, and thinking the man intoxicated. 
 
 "Ah, you swells 'as bad memories ; I remember you well 
 enough; rum now, ain't it?" 
 
 "Possibly," he said, buttoning his glove. "Do you want 
 anything of me, my friend?" 
 
 "That depends," responded the man, moving forward 
 as he spoke so that he stood right in Adrien's path. 
 "You're Mr. Leroy, ain't you?"
 
 148 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "1 am," said Adrian, half amused, impertinence was too 
 straage to him to offend him. 
 
 'Mr. Hadrien Leroy, that lives in Crown Chambers?" 
 
 Adrien nodded. 
 
 "You are quite correct, my good fellow," he said. "And 
 now, having satisfied your curiosity, have the good- 
 ness to step aside and let me pass." 
 
 "Wait a minute, guv'nor," said the man, half respect- 
 fully, "I wants to ask you a question or two. You're a 
 gentleman so they say, and p'raps you'll answer 'em 
 as a gentleman should." 
 
 "Be quick, then," said Adrien, quietly. 
 
 "You don't remember me, you says; p'raps you'll re- 
 member my name. My name is Wilfer Johann Wilfer." 
 
 "Johann Wilfer," repeated Adrien, thoughtfully and 
 slowly, wondering where he had heard the name before. 
 
 "Yes, Johann Wilfer, picture restorer, Cracknell Court, 
 Sohb." 
 
 "Oh !" said Adrien, "I remember you. Well, what do 
 you wish to know ? First, please, howtever, let me ask you 
 a question. Has the girl Reah returned to you yet?" 
 
 "Oh! that's it! Nothing like getting the first word. 
 That's just you swells with a poor man. Has she returned 
 to me? No, o' course she hasn't, and you know it. She 
 won't return to me, I reckon, until you've done with her." 
 
 Adrien leaned up against the railing, and looked at the 
 man gravely and thoughtfully. 
 
 He was wondering what had become of the girl, with 
 her dark eyes and silken hair. 
 
 Alas, what could have become of her but one dark fate, 
 if she had not returned to this man her guardian ? 
 
 "She ain't returned to me, and you know it," con- 
 cluded Mr. Wilfer, eyeing the calm, patrician face evilly. 
 "And my question is, where is she, and what have you 
 done with her?" 
 
 "And I answer you that I do not know where she is, 
 and that I have done nothing with' her, my friend," re- 
 plied Adrien. 
 
 "That's false," said the man, with a sneer. 
 
 Adrien Leroy looked down at him with calm regard. 
 
 "You are impertinent, my man," he said, in his clear 
 tones. "Stand aside and let me pass."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 149 
 
 Mr. Wilfer thrust his hands into his pockets, and stood 
 his ground stolidly. 
 
 "Where's your hurry?" he said, insolently. "It won't 
 do with me, Mr. Leroy, and so I tell you. I ask you 
 where my niece is, and, by Heaven, I'll know, too." 
 
 "She was your niece, you say?" he said. 
 
 "She was," said the man, sullenly, "though it's no busi- 
 ness of yours ; she belonged to me." 
 
 "I suppose so, or you would not have ill treated her," 
 said Adrien, quietly. "When did you see her last?" 
 
 "You know; three months ago," replied Mr. Wilfer, 
 coarsely. "She ran away the mornin' you came after 
 her." 
 
 Adrien flushed for a moment with the desire to knock 
 the fellow down, but he restrained the longing and said 
 instead : 
 
 "You told an untruth then when you told me she had 
 stolen from you and run away three weeks before?" 
 
 "Of course ; who wouldn't, to save his gal from such 
 as you? But what's the use of all this idle palaver, 
 guv'nor?" 
 
 "One word for all," exclaimed Adrien. "I have never 
 seen the child since the night I took her from the cold. 
 Now stand out of the path or I will do what I should 
 have done before this hand you over to the police." 
 
 "So that's your answer, is it?" said Mr. Wilfer, 
 hoarsely. "Well, you're no gentleman, after all." 
 
 Adrien, pushed past all endurance, caught the fellow 
 by the shoulder and swung him around, hoping to push 
 him aside without hurting him, for he began to think 
 that his suspicions of the man's intoxication was a correct 
 one ; but Mr. Wilfer was not to be got rid of thus easily, 
 and with a growl of rage snatched Adrien's loose over- 
 coat and clung like a leech. 
 
 Adrien, shuddering at the pollution of the man's 
 touch, grasped him by both arms, gave him a little shake, 
 then fairly lifted him from the path and dropped him 
 over the railings. 
 
 Johann Wilfer scrambled to his feet, and was about to 
 pursue Adrien, when a gentleman crept out of the shade 
 and prostrated him by a sudden blow on the head,
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A RUN OF LUCK. 
 
 Oh, Heaven, that such companions thou'dst unfold, 
 
 And put in every honest hand a whip, 
 
 To lash the rascals naked through the world. 
 
 SHAKESPEARB. 
 
 Mr. Johann Wilfer glared vengefully at the smooth, 
 serene face of his assailant, and struggling still, breathed 
 out, with an accompaniment of choice oaths, the ques- 
 tion: 
 
 "Who are you, and what do you want?" 
 
 "A question we will waive for the present, my good 
 friend," replied the gentleman above him. "Are you 
 going to struggle much longer ? Because if so, I shall be 
 under the necessity of quieting you by an exhibition of 
 force which you will find more surprising than pleasant. 
 Oh, you decide on taking things quietly, do you? I 
 applaud your wisdom. Have the goodness to arise, my 
 philosopher footpad, and we will confer in more con- 
 venient attitudes." 
 
 Whereupon the gentleman, who was no other than Mr. 
 Jasper Vermont, released Mr. Johann's throat from the 
 pressure of his knee and allowed him to arise, which Mr. 
 Johann Wilfer did with an extremely puzzled and sullen 
 look, and having arisen, stood silently and evilly regard- 
 ing his new acquaintance. 
 
 "Soh!" said Mr. Jasper, eyeing him calmly, and pro- 
 ceeding while he spoke to light a cigar and get it into 
 full blast deliberately. "Soh ! now we are on our feet 
 again, we look well, I am bound to admit none the less 
 ruffianly. My friend, what is your name?" 
 
 Mr. Johann Wilfer tugged at his ragged neckcloth, 
 which, during the struggle, had become inconveniently 
 tightened and glared savagely as he replied insolently: 
 
 "And what's that to you?" 
 
 150
 
 Staunch of Heart. 151 
 
 "Not much," replied Mr. Jasper, politely. "A little 
 pardonable curiosity, my friend, which I think you will do 
 well to satisfy. I fancy, though, I have seen your face 
 before. Let me think," and he tapped his white, wrinkle- 
 less forehead with a neatly gloved forefinger. "Were you 
 ever at Canterbury, at a little inn, on the outskirts of the 
 town, on a July night in 18 ? On a beautiful moonlight 
 night, my friend?" 
 
 Mr. Wilfer started, turned pale, and shook his head. 
 
 "Never," he said. "You've made a mistake." 
 
 "I thought you were," said Mr. Jasper, cheerfully and 
 triumphantly, as if the man had fully admitted it. "You 
 don't tell an untruth well. If a man can't do that well, 
 he had always better stick to the truth. At a little inn in 
 Canterbury. How strange we should meet again! Let 
 me think; I seem to remember something else; my 
 memory is particularly good, my friend, particularly 
 good, I am thankful to say; and if it does not play 
 me false, I think I can remember that the gentleman 
 whom I had the pleasure to see in such charming com- 
 pany at the inn in Canterbury was a sort of artist, 
 picture restorer and 'canvas humbug,' as the picture 
 dealers call it; a manufacturer of pretended old masters, 
 Raphaels, Titians, Rubenses by the way, I saw an excel- 
 lent specimen of the kind of thing today. A Rubens, fig- 
 ure of a soldier, which a gentleman sold to the Countess of 
 Merivale for three hundred pounds. Genuine, of course ! 
 oh, yes, the gentleman gave a warranty with it, signed, 
 sealed and delivered. I did hear the gentleman's name, 
 or did I dream it ? Was it Wilfer ? Johann Wilfer ?" 
 
 Mr. Wilfer changed to a pretty olive green, and stared 
 harder than ever. 
 
 "Who the fiend are you ?" he commenced ; but Mr. Jas- 
 per's smooth voice broke in and stopped him. 
 
 "I was right, I see ! What a strange coincidence that 
 we should meet, Mr. Wilfer; that I should see your ad- 
 mirable Rubens in the morning, and run against to say 
 nothing of knocking you down the manufacturer in the 
 evening." 
 
 "Come, stow it," snarled Mr. Wilfer, driven to despera- 
 tion at last. "I don't know who you are, and I don't care
 
 152 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 if you're the old 'un himself; but there's enough of this. 
 What's your game ? What's the particular lay you're OR 
 with me? What's the move that you should come and 
 crow it over a man like this ? S'pose you did see me in a 
 pub at Canterbury along of a young party ; s'pose I am an 
 artist and I did sell an old master, what's that to you? 
 What business is it of yours that you should come inter- 
 posing between two gentlemen, and assaulting me in this 
 style? You must be mad, guv'nor; but mad or straight 
 you're on the wrong lay with me, that I tell you right 
 away. Now then!" 
 
 "Finished?" asked Mr. Jasper, with a pleasant smile. 
 "An excellent piece of reasoning, Mr. Wilfer, but faulty 
 in one particular ! I am not on the wrong lay, as you in- 
 elegantly term it, and it is of some small matter to me 
 that I should meet you, and interfere with your little busi- 
 ness between gentlemen." 
 
 "Oh, it is, is it?" snarled Mr. Wilfer. "Then," mock- 
 ing the pleasant smile and the smooth voice "then you'll 
 have the goodness to keep the reasons to yourself and let 
 me go on. I don't know, and what's more, I don't want 
 to; but if I do, mind you, it will be to pay off the score, 
 and if I ever do that, I'll do it complete. Mark that, Mr. 
 Know All." 
 
 "Threatening bodily harm!" murmured Mr. Jasper, 
 sweetly. 
 
 Then, as Mr. Wilfer essayed to push past him, he took 
 his cigar from his mouth, blew a puff of smoke in an irv 
 suiting manner full in the man's face, and in a cool but 
 commanding tone said: 
 
 "Stand back ; go and sit on the bench. I haven't done 
 with you, Mr. Wilfer." 
 
 "Suppose I say I shan't," returned Mr. Wilfer, eyeing 
 him savagely. 
 
 "Then," said Jasper, leaning against the railings, "I 
 call the police." 
 
 "Call 'em!" almost shouted Mr. Wilfer, with a dis- 
 cordant laugh. "That's a bogy for children ! What's the 
 police to me as I should be scared by 'em?" 
 
 "A great deal," said Mr. Jasper. "For instance, say 
 that yo are mad enough to refuse my offer of a seat, I
 
 Staunch of Heart. 153 
 
 call the police, they arrive, and find me struggling with 
 a low-looking fellow, with footpad on his elegant counte- 
 nance you compel me to be personal, my friend whom 
 I instantly give in charge for committing a highway rob- 
 bery upon my friend, Mr. Leroy, who has gone in search 
 of assistance. The footpad denies it vociferously, but ap- 
 pearances are against him, and to make the evidence com- 
 plete, I pick up from the grass Mr. Leroy 's gold watch 
 and chain which had fallen from the footpad's hands." 
 
 And as he spoke he stooped and picked up Adrien's 
 watch, which had fallen from his pocket when he flung 
 Mr. Wilfer aside, and which Mr. Jasper's quick eyes had 
 seen on the grass, and he had allowed to remain there till 
 he could use the circumstance as now. 
 
 Mr. Wilfer eyed the watch, and the thickly-meshed net 
 drawn around him and gave in. 
 
 "Curse you !" he said. "You are a knowing one." 
 
 "Thank you; a genuine, if not graceful compliment, 
 from a candid foe, is peculiarly grateful. And now you 
 are seated, and we may continue our agreeable conversa- 
 tion more comfortably, allow me to ask you the nature 
 of your business with my friend, Mr. Leroy." 
 
 The man looked up at the smooth but masterful tor- 
 mentor, and inwardly acknowledged the superiority. He 
 answered slowly but to the point: 
 
 "I'm thinking you heard the whole of the palaver, 
 guv'nor, so the question ain't necessary. But if you wfill 
 have me tell you, why then I was inquiring after a young 
 niece of mine, a young girl your precious friend 'as been 
 and decoyed from her home." 
 
 Mr. Jasper's eyes gleamed, then hid themselves under 
 their lids. 
 
 "Can you prove that he acted as you say?" he said 
 quietly. 
 
 "I can," replied Mr. Wilfer, doggedly. 
 
 "How?" asked Mr. Jasper. "Take a cigar," and he 
 extended an elegantly-mounted cigar case to his victim. 
 
 Mr. Wilfer eyed the elaborate trifle sullenly for a mo- 
 ment, then he took a cigar and bit its end viciously. 
 
 Mr. Jasper extracted a fusee from a silver box and
 
 154 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 threw it to him, watching him light the cigar as a jailer 
 might watch his prisoner eating his crust of bread. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Jasper, after a pause, during which 
 Mr. Wilfer puffed at the cigar with dogged silence, 
 "now," he continued, "your address is Cracknell Court, 
 Soho don't trouble to deny it, my friend, or make a 
 change of residence, for though you moved to the Arctic 
 regions, I should find you. I know where to lay my hand 
 upon any one I want convenient, is it not? and I shall 
 in all probability require you, Mr. Wilfer. When I do, 
 then will be your opportunity for revenge. Until then, 
 take care of yourself ; I mean don't get into trouble, and 
 be more careful with your sham Rubens, written war- 
 ranties are dangerous things, and this one of yours which 
 I have in my pocket is quite enough to send you to prison 
 for a pleasant twelve months." 
 
 "And the girl?" said Mr. Wilfer, after a moment's 
 silence. "What's to become of her ?" 
 
 "You mean what is to become of the money you receive 
 for her maintenance ?" corrected Mr. Jasper, with a smile. 
 "Well, we'll see. Now, good-night. I have an engage- 
 ment; and remember I can lay my hand on you when I 
 want you, and wfaen I send for you be careful that you 
 come without the loss of a moment. You have no wings, 
 or I should require you to fly. Good-night !" 
 
 With' that impressive farewell, Mr. Jasper turned on his 
 heel. 
 
 Mr Wilfer looked after him in moody silence for a few 
 moments, then departed likewise. 
 
 "Strange," said Mr. Jasper, to his cigar. "Strange how 
 things work around for you, Jasper, my boy! That 
 princely idiot plays into your hands at every turn. What 
 luck, that of all nights in the week I should run across 
 him here and take it into my head to follow him." 
 
 And humming a few lines of Madam Haidee's last pop- 
 ular song, he made his way to the theater. 
 
 "Good-night," said Adrien, a few hours afterward as 
 they stood before his cab. "What is the time?" and he 
 felt for his watch. 
 
 "I don't know," said Jasper, "mine has stopped."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 155 
 
 "Nor I," remarked Adrien, quietly. "For I think I have 
 lost my watch." 
 
 "What !" exclaimed Jasper. "That valuable repeater of 
 yours? What a pity!" 
 
 "Is it not?" said Adrien, thoughtfully. "I wonder 
 
 Ah, I think I lost it in the park." 
 
 Mr. Jasper looked sympathizingly. 
 
 "What a bore ! Well, it's a good job a watch or two to 
 the bad doesn't matter with you, my prince." 
 
 Adrien smiled ; then, ever thoughtful, said : 
 
 "By the way, have you found the papers Jackson tells 
 me you lost in the theatre the other night?" 
 
 "No," answered Mr. Jasper, and a slight flush of an- 
 noyance crossed his brow, "no, I have not. Jackson told, 
 did he? No, I dropped them somewhere from the green- 
 room to Haidee's brougham, and I suppose I must look 
 upon them as gone forever." 
 
 "I hope not," said Adrien. 
 
 "No consequence," said Mr. Jasper, as the cab* rattled 
 off. 
 
 No consequence, Mr. Jasper Vermont! Of so much 
 consequence that you would give a thousand pounds of 
 your dearly loved money this instant to have those papers 
 safely clutched in your hand ! 
 
 But at present they are lying on the bosom of a wander- 
 ing, homeless girl and whither they are drifting who shall 
 say? '
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ALL BUT DROWNED. 
 
 The next morning while Adrien Leroy was standing 
 before his glass putting the finishing touches to the toilet 
 which Mr. Norgate had conducted with great care, and 
 thinking of the girl Reah and her ruffianly guardian, a 
 servant appeared with a dainty little note marked "im- 
 mediate." 
 
 The envelope bore no crest for Lady Eveline used none 
 in her correspondence with Adrien Leroy, from pruden- 
 tial motives ; but Adrien knew the handwriting, and set- 
 ting down the hard brush, opened the faintly scented 
 missive and perused it. 
 
 "DEAR ADRIEN : I shall spend the day with Aunt Rose 
 at Hampton. Will you keep your promise?" 
 
 "I will," murmured Adrien, remembering that he had 
 promised the beautiful Eveline that on her next visit to 
 the convenient Lady Rose at Hampton Court he would 
 meet her there and take her in his light pleasure boat up 
 to some of the pretty islands farther up the river and 
 spend the day in a delicious "dolce far niente." 
 
 "Dear Eveline," he wrote back with his pencil, "I will 
 ride down to Hampton and keep the promise, which came 
 rather from you, from whom my happiness springs. 
 
 "ADRIEN." 
 
 Then, having dispatched the Merivale servant, he went 
 into the cabinet to breakfast, and ordered his favorite cob 
 to be brought around in an hour. 
 
 It was a splendid morning, just bright and hot enough 
 to make visions of the cool, sweet river particularly wel- 
 come, and the man of pleasure determined to cast off the 
 melancholy which had overshadowed him lately, and take 
 the day as it came, happily. 
 
 "I shall enjoy a row on the river. Eveline is never so 
 happy as when in the stern of my skiff, and to-day I will 
 
 156
 
 Staunch of Heart. 157 
 
 forget what? Well, that I am tired of this artificial 
 life and its tinseled unreality. Yes, to-day, despite the 
 coming matrimonial problem at Barminster, despite the 
 harpings of my poor savage Haidee, I will be happy !" 
 
 Alas, little did he think that the day shining so brightly 
 and invitingly upon him would prove the momentous one 
 of his life. 
 
 In an hour the cob, all fire and impatience, was waiting 
 at the door, and leaving word with the faithful Norgate 
 that he should not return till evening, Adrien leaped 
 lightly into the saddle and started for the pretty village 
 of Hampton. 
 
 The cob stepped out through the London streets and 
 when he had got clear of town put on the pace with such 
 a delight in his forces that he bore his handsome master 
 to the precincts of the Cardinal Wolsey's palace half an 
 hour before Lady Eveline would expect him. 
 
 So he turned around and rode back to the next village 
 lower down the river where his skiff was kept and rowed 
 up to Hampton, where, by the steps that led to the Court 
 Lady Eveline, exquisitely dressed in a pale blue costume 
 of some mysterious gauzy substance that suited her deli- 
 cate style of beauty admirably, was waiting for him. 
 
 She greeted him with a happy smile, and pressed his 
 white but strong hand as he assisted her into the boat. 
 
 "And how is Aunt Rose?" he said, with a slight smile- 
 
 "Oh, very well," said Lady Eveline, returning the smile. 
 "I told her that I should visit some friends a little farther 
 on r and perhaps stop to dine so so well, after a strug- 
 gle I got away, and here we are. Is it not beautiful? 
 And I am so happy ! How good of you to come !" 
 
 Adrien replied in kind, and then sitting down to the 
 sculls, pulled away with the long, swinging strokes 
 which had gone so far toward helping the crew of his 
 college to win so many well-fought contests. 
 
 It was a remarkable fact about Adrien Leroy, that al- 
 though confessedly the most indolent man in the always 
 indolent fashionable world, he could when he chose to ex- 
 ert himself outdo most men in all manly exercises row- 
 ing, walking, skating ; at all he was a proficient, and ex- 
 celled in that quiet, careless way which made nothing of
 
 158 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 feats that others would have trumpeted from east to west. 
 
 So they started, and gloried in the sunshine, the glitter 
 of the water, and the mock love which each so admirably 
 pretended to feel for the other. 
 
 A few hours after Adrien had started, Mr. Jasper as- 
 cended the stairs to his chambers, and was informed by 
 Norgate that his master was out for the day. 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Jasper, quietly, inwardly irritated that 
 his dupe should be absent for a day without telling him 
 his intention and his whereabouts. "Oh, where has he 
 gone? He mentioned it last night, but I have forgotten," 
 he said, as if trying to remember. 
 
 "I don't know, sir," replied Norgate. "Mr. Adrien did 
 not leave word." 
 
 "Ah, very well," said Jasper, indifferently, "I'll just go 
 up and write a letter, Norgate, I think," and he passed 
 into the room, Norgate closing the door after him and 
 running down the stairs. 
 
 Mr. Jasper waited until his retreating footsteps Had 
 died away, then with a quick hand and a keen eye turned 
 over the letters which lay where Adrien had carelessly j 
 thrown them on a small inlaid table 
 
 "Hem !" mused Mr. Vermont. "Not there. I shouldj 
 know her handwriting in a moment. I know he has gone! 
 with her, for I saw the brougham pass. She must have; 
 let him know this morning and by letter. Can he have got ' 
 it with him?" 
 
 Muttering thus his eye caught a scrap of torn paper! 
 clinging to the steel bars of the grate. 
 
 In a moment his fat hand had snatched it, and his small 
 eyes devoured it. 
 
 "Ah," he muttered, with a smile. "Lit his cigar with 
 it. Burned it all save one corner which is the most im- 
 portant part. Let me see Lady Rose has apartments at 
 Hampton Court Palace. They have gone there, and now 
 shall I follow them? Why should I? And yet, as the 
 time draws near to the grand coup, I will not lose him 
 from my sight. I am uneasy if he is not within my reach. 
 Yes, I will go on his track. I want a holiday, the knave 
 wants a holiday sometimes as badly as the idiot," and,
 
 Staunch of Heart. 159 
 
 with a smooth laugh, he pocketed the scrap of paper and 
 left the room. 
 
 By noon Mr. Jasper was at Hampton, strolling along 
 the riverside and smoking a cigar. 
 
 Very amiable he looked and quite interested in the 
 boats, and, therefore, the man who let them out on hire 
 very readily answered his questions as to the customers, 
 the best season of the year, etc., all of which tended to 
 the important one had a boat with a lady and gentle- 
 man gone out that day? 
 
 "No," the boatman said. "No boat had gone out that 
 day with a lady and gentleman." 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Jasper, "I thought I saw a gentleman 
 rowing a lady down the river rowing very well, too." 
 
 "Ah," said the man, "I know who you mean a gentle- 
 man, regular swell, in a light skiff, lady in blue. They've 
 gone up stream." 
 
 This was what Mr. Jasper needed, and after a few min- 
 utes more of strolling about among the boats he started 
 off along the bank, keeping at such a distance from the 
 stream that though he could see all who passed in boats, 
 no one on the river could see him. 
 
 The beauty of the day, the shimmer of the silver river, 
 the caroling of the birds, had no softening effect upon 
 him. His gray, bird-like little eyes noted nothing but the 
 boats that passed, none of which as yet though the after- 
 noon was failing fast contained Adrien and Lady 
 Eveline. 
 
 Yet he knew that he had not missed them, for he had 
 taken his luncheon in the balcony of an inn overlooking 
 the river, which he had not lost sight of since he had left 
 Hampton. 
 
 Walking thus he reached the small village of Wey- 
 bridge. 
 
 Very small it was, consisting of an inn, a small 
 house, half cottage, half and half shop, and a few cot- 
 tages where the bargemen lived when they were at home, 
 which was exceedingly seldom. 
 
 In that little shop-parlor, as Mr. Jasper approached the 
 village, sat a little woman and her husband at their five- 
 o'clock tea.
 
 160 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "John Ashford, grocer," was the legend over the shop 
 door, and these were John Ashford and his "good little 
 wife," as he called her, Lucy Ashford. 
 
 They had two children, who were playing by the side of 
 the river, and were doing very comfortably, as their neigh- 
 bors, the bargemen's wives, expressed it. 
 
 The man's face was a good-humored, honest, everyday 
 one, his wife's was not so ordinary, for in her eyes and 
 along the corners of her rather weak-looking mouth was 
 a shadow of fear and timidity. 
 
 Even now, as she sat pouring out her husband's tea, 
 the slight restlessness of her unoccupied hand upon the 
 table discovered the peculiar trait in her character, and at 
 times it was more marked still by a start at some sudden 
 noise, or a cry of alarm if a customer chanced to knock 
 the counter more loudly than usual. 
 
 She could see her little ones from the window of the 
 room, and once or twice she smiled gently as they turned 
 in their playing with a girl who sat beside them to make 
 gestures of affection to their little mother. 
 
 "Well," said John, "how's the girl getting on, Lucy? 
 Got the better of that shyness, ain't she ?" 
 
 "Yes," said his wife, with a sigh. "Poor girl. T think 
 she must have suffered a great deal for one so young. 
 Suffered for no fault of her own either/* she added, 
 quickly, "for she's as innocent as little Annie herself. 
 Poor thing!" 
 
 "Poor thing !" echoed John Ashford, turning to look at 
 the group of three and then falling to at his bread and 
 butter again. "Let me see, she's been here three days, 
 hasn't she? Rum thing, my finding her so, isn't it? If 
 I hadn't run across the moor that evening from Walton 
 I shouldn't V seen the poor thing lying in the shade of 
 the furze. Wouldn't give no account of herself," he 
 continued, going over meditatively the circumstances of 
 his discovery of the girl who was playing with the chif- 
 dren outside. "Said her name was 'Ria ; that's for Maria, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes," said Lucy. "I've called her Maria, as seeming 
 more kindly like." 
 
 "And she hasn't said anything more than that she
 
 Staunch of Heart. 161 
 
 tramped from London because she couldn't bear the 
 crowds ?" 
 
 "No," said his wife, "nothing more, and I haven't asked 
 her, John. We don't want to know what sorrow it was 
 that drove her from her friends. It's enough for us that 
 she is little better than a child, penniless and homeless. If 
 she's got a secret let her keep it, John dear. We all have 
 a little corner in our hearts which we keep closed," she 
 added, almost unconsciously. 
 
 "Excepting you and me, my dear," said John, getting 
 up, wiping his mouth and kissing her. 
 
 She started and paled a little. 
 
 "Yes, of course," she said, "excepting you and me, 
 dear." 
 
 "We've no secrets," said the good-natured grocer. "Our 
 hearts are open as skeleton clocks all the works to be 
 seen for nothing, eh, Lucy, my dear?" and laughing at 
 his own apt simile, he kissed her again. 
 
 "And now," he said, "if you'll take care of the shop 
 I'll just go over and buy those things at Richmond. Old 
 Tucker's cart starts in half an hour* and it's a good 
 twenty minutes to his place." 
 
 "Go along, then," said his little wife, cheerfully, "and 
 don't forget my new bonnet ribbon." 
 
 "All right," said the husband ; and putting on his hat he 
 waved a kiss to his children and started on his journey to 
 Richmond, where he intended purchasing some stock for 
 his little shop. 
 
 Lucy Ashford looked after him wistfully, then sighed. 
 
 "Poor John !" she murmured. "If he knew that I had 
 a secret, and such a one ; he who believes me so good and 
 and true to him, and so I am true to him, and the past 
 can only be repented for, and I do repent. Oh, John, 
 John ! if you knew how I repent that evil hour when my 
 folly and vanity ruined me. But there, I will not think of 
 it. It is quite gone, no one knows of it excepting Mr. 
 Vermont, and he I have not seen for years, and poor 
 father. I am safe from them, for father is Mr* Vermont's 
 faithful servant, in his secrets and confidence, and he 
 would not ruin me and John. Oh, no, no! Let me for- 
 get it I will call the children : Annie, Lucy, Maria 1"
 
 1 62 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 When she called, the two children ran toward the win- 
 dow, and the girl who was with them turned her head and 
 followed them. 
 
 It was Reah. 
 
 Lucy Ashford stooped to kiss the children, then said 
 kindly to the quiet, silent girl : 
 
 "You must be tired with them now, my dear. Would 
 you like to come and sit down for a little while ?" 
 
 Reah raised her dark, beautiful eyes gratefully. 
 
 "No, ma'am, thank you ; I am not tired. They are so 
 good to me. I love them." 
 
 "You would like to go out again then?" asked Lucy 
 Ashford. 
 
 "Yes, if they like," answered Reah, looking at the chil- 
 dren, and the rare, sad smile just parting her perfectly 
 formed lips. 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes!" cried the children. "Come along, 
 'Ria!" and clinging to her skirt they dragged the dark- 
 eyed girl back to the riverside again. 
 
 Lucy Ashford sat at the table whence the tea things 
 were now removed, and with' some needlework in her 
 hand tried to forget that blot on her past, the knowledge 
 of Which she knew would blight her own, her husband's, 
 and her children's present and future. 
 
 Meanwhile Adrien's skiff was moored at the landing 
 place of an old inn some distance farther up the river. 
 Under an old porch the Lady Eveline was drinking a cup 
 of tea, while he smoked his cigar and looked lazily at the 
 rising moon. 
 
 They had been talking quietly and gravely for some 
 time. There was the flash of anger, half melting into 
 scorn, in Lady Eveline's eyes ; in his a gravity and earnest- 
 ness visible through the mask of placid indolence. 
 
 They had been talking, and he, with a fearlessness 
 which did not characterize all his dealings with the fair 
 sex, had been breaking a stern resolution to his com- 
 panion. 
 
 She broke the silence presently. 
 
 "And so you have determined, Adrien ? You will marry 
 Lady Constance and and leave me?" 
 
 He nodded.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 163 
 
 * 
 
 "You know I must," he said. "I must marry, and soon. 
 You are angry because I tell you, Eveline; you would 
 be angry if I played you false, deceived you, sprung my 
 marriage on you after it had occurred." 
 
 "Yes," she said, in a low voice. "And this is the last 
 happy day we shall spend together?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, with a half sigh. "And I believe, 
 standing here in the calm moonlight, that we ought never 
 to have spent any at all. But I do not moralize, I am 
 no worse than other men of my set ; we are caught in the 
 whirlpool and cannot but fall in its eddies. But tonight 
 is the last, Eveline. Do not smile when I tell you that I 
 am going to change the tenor of my life. The baron has 
 raised his voice, and sternly announced my duty as head 
 of our race. You who love high blood and all its re- 
 sponsibilities would not tempt me to disregard his voice. 
 We have been playing at love, Lady Eveline no harm 
 but in the seeming, as Heaven bears witness, but, pleasant 
 pastime as it is, it must end. But let us spend this last 
 evening more pleasantly than debating on these minor 
 moralities of our life. Come, the moon is up, we must be 
 going down stream." 
 
 Lady Eveline, who knew him too well to hope that the 
 eloquence of Cicero or all the tears of a Niobe would move 
 him when he had made a resolve, wisely acquiesced in his 
 renunciation, and the two got into the boat. 
 
 Adrien, who felt as a man does who has taken a step on 
 the road of duty, pulled leisurely with the stream. The 
 moon grew | brighter, the night more delicious with every 
 five minutes. 
 
 A profound silence reigned around, broken only by the 
 occasional cry of a night bird. 
 
 Presently Lady Eveline peered forward. 
 
 "The moon is so deceiving," she said, in a low 
 voice. "I nearly steered you into the bank." 
 
 "Can you see?" he said. "Put down the lines, and I 
 will guide the boat while I row, if you cannot." 
 
 "No," she said, "I can see well enough." 
 
 "All right," he said, "I am going to row quicker. It's 
 time we were at Hampton. What time did you order the 
 brougham for?"
 
 164 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Nine," she replied, with a sigh. 
 
 "Nine?" he repeated. "Then I must row quickly." 
 
 And his long strokes grew more rapid. The boat flew 
 along, breaking up the placid water into silver beneath 
 each plunge. 
 
 Lady Eveline leaned forward, steering silently. Sud- 
 denly she started up with a cry of alarm. 
 
 "Look, look!" she cried, "what is that?" and pointed to 
 a sheet of spray rising and falling a few yards from them, 
 or rather below them. 
 
 Adrien turned his head, rowing still, thinking it was an 
 owl; but the next moment reversed the sculls and cried 
 sternly : 
 
 "Sit down ; you have steered us over the weir !" 
 
 There was scarcely a moment's space between his words 
 and the darting of the boat to the sleek, shining sluice. 
 
 He tried to stem the tide, but vainly. 
 
 "Cling to the boat!" he shouted loudly; for the falling 
 of the water rang and hummed around them ; then, as the 
 boat capsized and plunged into the foam beneath, he made 
 a grasp at her dress, missed it, and, from where he was 
 swimming amid the foam, saw her lightly clad form dash- 
 ing away down the stream. 
 
 He turned his stony stern face up to the moon with 
 a silent prayer that the punishment of their mutual folly 
 might not fall on the weak woman alone, then struck out 
 after her. 
 
 He was an expert swimmer, and, aided by the stream, 
 which was as swift as a millrace, he soon overtook her. 
 
 Her face was turned upward, her eyes were closed. 
 
 "Heaven grant me her life," he groaned, and, clutching 
 her hair, he swam slantwise toward the bank. 
 
 A few seconds and he had reached it, panting like a race 
 horse, and nearly exhausted. Then he laid her down, and 
 felt for some signs of life in her hands and lips. 
 
 She still breathed, and, with a hoarse groan of grati- 
 tude, he looked around for assistance. 
 
 At a little distance a light burned in a window. 
 
 Without pausing an instant he took the still form in his 
 arms and hastened toward it. 
 
 Happily unconscious of the struggle for life going on
 
 Staunch of Heart. 165 
 
 within hearing, little Lucy Ashford sat working busily, 
 her meek face lifted to the lamp occasionally, with the 
 habitual restless look and the usual sigh passing through 
 the timid lips. 
 
 The children were in bed, Reah was coming down the 
 stairs from them, when a sharp rat-tat at the door caused 
 Lucy Ashford to start and drop her work. 
 
 The shop was closed, but the door was half open on 
 account of the heat, and, wondering who it could be, the 
 little wife took up the candle and passed into the shop. 
 
 A gentleman stood at the counter, his face away from 
 her. 
 
 She shaded the candle, and he turned. 
 
 Down went the candle, and up went two timid hands 
 to her face. 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont, for it was that gentleman, stood 
 looking at her with a cruel, amused smile for a moment, 
 then, in his soft, unctuous voice, said: 
 
 "I am afraid I've startled you, Miss Mrs. Lucy Ash- 
 ford. Pray let me recover the candle ; that's it. Hem ! 
 quite startled! Unwelcome visitor, eh?" 
 
 "No, no," breathed the poor little woman, who re- 
 sembled a small sparrow in the clutches of its natural 
 enemy, the hawk. "No, sir. I am very glad to see you, 
 sir! Will you come in?" 
 
 At this faint welcome Mr. Jasper Vermont smiled 
 again. 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Lucy," he said, "I think I will. 
 What a charming night! And what a pretty little place. 
 Hem! most charming! Commerce and romance, I de- 
 clare, and now" sinking into a seat and fixing his eyes 
 upon the white, frightened face of the sparrow "how 
 is your good husband, Mr. John Ashford?" 
 
 "Very well, sir," faltered Lucy, praying with all her 
 weak heart that John might not come home. 
 
 "And the children two, aren't there? Pretty little 
 dears ! Do you know I'm so fond of children, Mrs. Lucy ? 
 Quite a happy woman you must be quite. Dear me, a 
 most comfortable little house I never saw anything like 
 it, excepting once, and that was at Canterbury !"
 
 1 66 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 The poor woman fell down on her knees, and turned up 
 her white face. 
 
 "Oh, sir, kind, good sir, you will spare me! You will 
 not ruin me ! You will not break my heart ! We are so 
 happy he is so good. The little ones ! oh, think of the 
 Httle ones, and don't betray me ! Oh, think, sir. I was 
 so young, so giddy, so thoughtless, and that man was so 
 wicked. He tempted me he did, sir, like a serpent and 
 oh, good, kind sir, I will pray for you every night as I 
 pray for John and my little ones if you will spare me and 
 keep my secret !" 
 
 Mr. Jasper smiled. 
 
 It was meat and drink this abject misery, this servile 
 beseeching for his mercy. 
 
 He felt almost tempted to spurn the slight, still girlish 
 form, for the mere luxury of the thing, but he restrained 
 himself. 
 
 "Get up, my good woman," he said, contemptuously. 
 "I shall keep your secret ; oh, yes, well well, perhaps for- 
 ever who knows? Good John, simple John! Ha, ha! 
 Little does he think his quiet little wife was such a mad- 
 cap thing before he married her, taking trips to Canter- 
 bury with handsome young men. There, there," he added, 
 as a moan of anguish escaped the tortured woman, "no 
 nonsense ; I shan't enlighten good, kind John tonight, but 
 
 I want a bed. I mean to sleep here tonight. I Hello, 
 
 who's that ?" he broke off suddenly as Reah, with her little, 
 graceful step, entered the room. 
 
 She paused at the sound of his voice ; then stood stock- 
 still, transformed' to stone, staring at him with a look of 
 mingled repugnance and fascinated attraction, as a bird 
 is numbed by the glitter of the snake's eyes. 
 
 "Who's that ?" repeated Mr. Jasper, eyeing the motion- 
 less face with a look of uneasiness. 
 
 "A poor girl leave us, my dear," faltered Lucy, and 
 Reah, setting down the candle, passed out. 
 
 Mr. Jasper took off his light summer overcoat. 
 
 "Now," he said, "about my room." 
 
 "You shall have the best, sir," replied Lucy, eagerly. 
 "Anything, everything we have is yours."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 167 
 
 "Ay," said Mr. Jasper with a laugh. "Well, set about 
 it. I'm tired, and " 
 
 Another knock at the door, this time followed by a 
 man's heavy footsteps and a man's commanding voice : 
 
 "Help! Quick here with a light!" 
 
 Lucy screamed. 
 
 Mr. Jasper changed color. 
 
 "What !" he muttered. Then he leaped to the door, set 
 his back against it, and seized Lucy by the arm almost 
 savagely. "Hark you!" he whispered in her ear. "I 
 know that gentleman. Breathe a word to lead him to 
 think I am here, and John knows all! Hide me some- 
 where, where I can see. You understand? Quick!" 
 
 Lucy, trembling like a leaf, opened a door, whose upper 
 half was glazed, and which led from the small room, and 
 Mr. Jasper, who had not occupied a minute in hissing out 
 his injunction, leaped into the ambush. 
 
 She then ran to the other door, opened it, and in stag- 
 gered Adrien with his burden. 
 
 "My good woman," he said, firmly but quickly, "not a 
 moment is to be lost. This lady is drowned nearly. Put 
 her in bed." 
 
 "I know," said Lucy, her spirit springing up in such 
 an emergency. "Help me, sir. Oh, dear !" 
 
 Adrien carried Lady Eveline up the narrow stairs and 
 laid her on the bed. 
 
 Lucy ran down, got a bottle of spirits and ran up 
 again, calling for Reah. 
 
 "Fetch the doctor, sir," said Lucy. "He is up at the 
 inn." 
 
 And Adrien started, but suddenly pulled up. 
 
 Lady Eveline valued her reputation far more than her 
 life. To fetch a doctor might save the latter, but would 
 most certainly ruin the former. 
 
 While he mused these few seconds out in the road Reah 
 ran through the room and so missed him. 
 
 He returned quickly and stood in the little shop, waiting 
 sternly with a heavy heart, Mr. Jasper's eyes devouring 
 his face and Mr. Jasper's lips wreathed in a sardonic 
 smile behind the curtained window. 
 
 Presently Lucy ran down.
 
 i68 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Where's the doctor, sir? Oh, hasn't he come? The 
 lady's alive, sir!" 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Adrien. 
 
 "And she says we are not to send for the doctor." 
 
 "I understand," said Adrien, hastily. "And is she well 
 enough to sit up, to move?' 
 
 "Yes, sir ; at least she says so," replied Lucy, trembling, 
 for now the excitement was over she remembered the 
 dread presence behind the door. "She is changing her 
 clothes for some of mine, sir, and she says that if you 
 get a carriage ' 
 
 Adrien nodded. 
 
 "Tell her," he said, quickly, "that I have gone to get 
 one, and that if she is strong enough to start at once all 
 may yet be saved. You can remember." 
 
 He hastened out to the door, bribed the groom to speed 
 with a sovereign, and in a marvelously short time had the 
 carriage at the door. 
 
 Quick as he was, Lady Eveline had been quicker, and 
 now stood in the little parlor wrapped in shawls, looking 
 very white but also hard and resolute. 
 
 She motioned to Adrien with her hand that she was 
 ready, and he, laying a five-pound note upon the table, said 
 a few words of thanks to Lucy, and took the miserable 
 woman to the carriage. 
 
 No sooner had the door closed and the horse started 
 than she threw up her hands and groaned : 
 
 "Adrien, I am ruined !" 
 
 "No," said Adrien, "you are safe even now. The man 
 is promised twenty guineas if he reaches Hampton in an 
 hour. The brougham will be waiting, you can reach 
 home and your rooms in that shawl unperceived." 
 
 "But you but you!" she wailed. "Will you 
 promise " 
 
 "I," he said, with a low laugh of scorn at her doubt of 
 him. "This day of my life is yours ; none will ever hear 
 from me how it was spent, and you know it." 
 
 "You swear?" she murmured. 
 
 "I have," he said, simply. "When I give my word I 
 have sworn as deeply as I can." 
 
 Alas, he did not pause to reflect that, let what might
 
 In Deadly Peril. 
 
 happen, there was one day of his life he could not ac- 
 count for, one whole day lost from the account, one day 
 of which he had sworn to keep with sealed lips. 
 
 No sooaer had the carriage rolled away than Mr. Jasper 
 came out 
 
 He was very pale, but his eyes shone like stars. 
 
 "Lucy Ashford," he said, sinking into a chair and 
 holding one finger up with a warning gesture, "you may 
 be asked some day if a lady was brought here by a gentle- 
 man on such a night, under such circumstances. What 
 would you answer?" 
 
 "That that she was," faltered the poor woman. 
 
 Mr. Jasper frowned. 
 
 "At your peril," he said, shaking his finger, with a sav- 
 age light in his eye. "Let no living soul hear one syllable 
 of this night's occurrence, or the story of your Canterbury 
 trip becomes the property of the whole world. Ay, my 
 good Lucy, I'll proclaim it from the housetop till not a 
 corner of the earth remains for you to hide from your 
 shame. And now Where's that girl ?" 
 
 Weeping-, trembling in every limb, almost dead with 
 terror, Lacy sought her, but Reah was not to be found.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 IN DEADLY PERIL. 
 
 The announcement of the fancy ball to be held at Bar- 
 minster produced the greatest sensation of the season, and 
 every one of any consequence was on the qui vive of ex- 
 pectancy ; for it was known that Barminster Castle was of 
 vast extent and that the invitations would be on a liberal 
 scale. 
 
 Adrien had roused from his usual lethargic state, and 
 plunged, with what was enthusiasm for him, into the elab- 
 orate preparation of costumes and effects. 
 
 The whole castle was to be lighted and decorated in the 
 most splendid style, the costumes, manufactured by the 
 masters of the art and authorized by great heraldic au- 
 thorities, were to be of the most magnificent description, 
 and the grounds from the race course to the cataract in the 
 woods were to be adorned by colored lamps and rare 
 statuary. 
 
 The night arrived, the temporary stables, which the 
 village carpenters had been erecting adjoining the ordi- 
 nary ones, were filling rapidly. 
 
 Music floated through the night air and awoke the 
 birds. Ripples of laughter chimed in with the clatter and 
 rattle of the horses' hoofs and carriage wheels. 
 
 The great reception rooms, all covered and glittering in 
 crimson and gold, were filling with the most incongruous 
 crowd that had ever moved within the castle walls. 
 
 Cavaliers in silks and satins, crusaders in mail and silver 
 armor; Alsace peasant girls who were countesses and 
 ladies of high degree behind their masks; Carmelite 
 monks, and Sicilian nuns; fair-haired Marguerites and 
 handsome, richly clad Fausts; a long line of kingly 
 Louises, Richards and Johns; a troop of Spanish ladies 
 with almond eyes and long mantillas; Peter the Hermit 
 in conversation with Apollo in silver tissue ; all the prin- 
 
 170
 
 Staunch of Heart. 171 
 
 cipal characters in history and fable seemed to have risen 
 from their graves in full costume to meet beneath the roof 
 of Barminster Castle to laugh, gossip and dance. 
 
 Up in the gallery of the great saloon a famous orchestra 
 poured forth the most dulcet invitation that Terpischore 
 ever obeyed, and the guests were waiting only for the 
 baron's appearance to accept the invitation and commence 
 the ball. 
 
 Suddenly, when the buzzing was at its height, the cur- 
 tains at the end of the reception room were divided by 
 unseen hands, and Lady Penelope, attired as Queen Elea- 
 nor, leaning upon the arm of the baron, who had thrown 
 over his evening dress a black claret domino and carried 
 his mask in his hand, appeared at the opening and came 
 forward to greet their guests. 
 
 Immediately behind them came Adrien and Lady Con- 
 stance, and at their appearance a buzz of admiration and 
 interest arose above the silence. 
 
 Never did Lady Constance look better than tonight, 
 when, in her assumed character of Miranda in the "Tem- 
 pest," she glided forward in her robe of white satin, re- 
 rieved here and there by pink seashells and tiny wreaths 
 of seaweed. 
 
 Never did Adrien look more handsome or more prince- 
 fy. He had taken the character of Charles the First of 
 saintly memory, and his handsome, melancholy face, with 
 its dark, deep eyes, looked the martyred king's itself. 
 
 "Wonderful !" was the general exclamation. "It is as if 
 fhe portrait in the gallery had stepped from its frame. 
 Everything exact from the lace collar to the jeweled order 
 on his breast." 
 
 Unconscious of, or indifferent to, the admiration they 
 provoked, Adrien and Lady Constance mingled with the 
 throng, and the baron, with the duchess on his arm, 
 moved to the great saloon and proclaimed the ball opened. 
 
 "What a magnificent sight, Adrien, dear," said Lady 
 Penelope, all m a flutter of delight, as Adrien passed her 
 half an hour afterward. "I declare it is like the carnival 
 of Venice. Such wonderful dresses. And the mystery is 
 so delightful. Really I don't know who is who, the masks 
 are such complete disguises. Look, who is that?"
 
 172 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 And she motioned to a lady dressed as Undine, who 
 passed leaning on the arm of Mephistopheles. 
 
 "That," said Adrien, for whose quick eyes disguises 
 were nearly useless. "That is yes, I cannot be mistaken 
 Lady Eveline." 
 
 His voice dropped slightly as he spoke the name, for 
 he 'had not expected her acceptance of Lady Penelope's 
 invitation, and was surprised by her presence. 
 
 "And who is the Mephistopheles?" asked Lady Con- 
 stance, gliding up with the marquis. 
 Adrien looked after him. 
 
 "I don't know. It is a capital disguise, whoever it may- 
 be." 
 
 "It is something, a shadow only, like Mr. Jasper Ver- 
 mont," said Lady Constance. 
 
 "It is not he," said Adrien. "He is not here tonight, 
 nor will be." 
 
 The baron, who approached at the moment, talking with 
 the Due de Rouen, gave a sharp sigh of relief and shot 
 an almost grateful glance at his princely son. 
 
 Adrien caught the look, and fully understood it. He 
 said nothing, however, but went in search of his partner 
 for the next valse, a Joan of Arc, in the daintiest tissue 
 armor. 
 
 Meanwhile the Undine and Mephistopheles had seated 
 themselves in the deep recess of one of the high windows 
 and were chatting comfortably. 
 
 "Let me get you an ice, madam," said the Mephis- 
 topheles, in a queer, strained voice. 
 
 Undine turned her masked face toward him, and her 
 eyes flashed through the mask curiously. 
 
 "You may," she replied, also disguising her voice, "if 
 you will tell me who you are." 
 
 "That I dare not!" replied the gentlemanly demon. 
 "My name is never mentioned in ears polite, you know." 
 
 Undine smiled. 
 
 "Mephistopheles has many names," she said. "I should 
 like to know your human one ? Perhaps you know mine 
 without asking?" 
 
 "I know everything, madam," replied Mephistopheles,
 
 Staunch of Heart. 173 
 
 with a twinkle in his eyes. "You are shall I whisper 't? 
 well, the Lady Eveline." 
 
 Undine started. 
 
 "Disguised so ill!" she said. "I hoped I had lost my 
 identity. Well, sir, you may fetch the ice." 
 
 Mephistopheles brought the ice and reseated himself. 
 
 "It is a fair scene," he said. "And, as the account in 
 tomorrow's papers will read, fabulous. And yet, can any 
 one do justice to its magnificence and, ahem ! cost ?" 
 
 Undine smiled still. She began to pierce her com- 
 panion's disguise. 
 
 "The host should feel happy and satisfied," she said, 
 turning her eyes to where the baron stood. 
 
 "Yes, happy," said the Mephistopheles ; "but not satis- 
 fied, my lady. Satisfaction will never rest upon that 
 wrinkled head until an event occurs which he has set his 
 heart upon." 
 
 "You mean," said Lady Eveline, in a low voice, while 
 her eyes drooped, "the marriage of his son and Lady 
 Tremaine?" 
 
 Mephistopheles nodded. 
 
 "You have deemed rightly, madam. See there where 
 they stand ! what an excellent match it would be ; and yet 
 how sad to think that " 
 
 "What?" cried the countess, who had paled beneath her 
 mask, and looked up as he hesitated. 
 
 "It never shall be!" 
 
 The countess grasped his arm, and trembled with fiery 
 eagerness. 
 
 "Say that again, if you know enough to say it with 
 some certainty of its being true." 
 
 "With pleasure," said Mephistopheles. "I say " he 
 
 broke off suddenly, and, setting down the glass, glided 
 from her side, as Adrien, with a lady on his arm, ap- 
 proached the recess. 
 
 Lady Eveline looked after him with astonishment, and 
 then, seeing Adrien before her, turned her head aside, and 
 seemed as anxious as Mephistopheles himself to avoid 
 recognition. 
 
 "And Mr. Leroy," said the lady upon Adrien's arm, 
 "can you tell me who this latest arrival is?"
 
 174 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "I have not seen her," said Adrian, rather wearily, for 
 he was beginning to tire of the host of questions which he 
 had been expected to answer. 
 
 "Oh, I wish I could see her! Such a magnificent get- 
 up. A Cleopatra, I think, all crimson and gold and pearls. 
 Look, there she is !" and the lady pointed to a tall masker, 
 superbly dressed as Cleopatra, who was moving up the 
 saloon surrounded by a group of admirers in the most 
 fantastic costumes, who were soliciting the honor of her 
 hand. 
 
 With all her beauty and magnificence, the new arrival 
 looked rather uneasy, and as her dark, full eyes met the 
 steady regard of Adrien's she visibly turned pale beneath 
 her mask, and moved a little aside. 
 
 The lady on Adrien's arm felt him start back slightly, 
 and looking up she saw that his lips had grown stern, and 
 that there was an angry, displeased light in his eyes quite 
 foreign to them, 
 
 "Do you know her?" she whispered. 
 "Yes !" he said sternly. "But it would be a breach of 
 confidence to betray her, madam, so you must not ask me." 
 Then, as the lady's father came up to claim her, he 
 surrendered her with his old, courteous smile, and strode 
 off to the corner where Cleopatra, who seemed now to 
 be anxious to avoid notice, had seated herself. 
 
 She started to her feet as Adrien approached, then sank 
 into the seat again, and looked up at him defiantly. 
 
 At that moment the band struck up for the cotillon, the 
 mass of colors stirred like the lines in a kaleidoscope, and 
 the dance, amid a rustle of silks and ripple of laughter, 
 commenced. 
 
 Adrien was engaged to Lady Constance for the same 
 dance, but he had forgotten it in the height of his anger. 
 
 "Haidee," he said, sternly, "what do you here? This 
 is no place for you !" 
 
 "No place for me, Adrien?" she breathed, her bosom 
 swelling angrily, and her large hands clinching. 
 
 "No," he repeated, "and you know it. Do you know 
 what the baron would do if he discovered you here ?" 
 "No," she answered with a slight pallor. "What?"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 175 
 
 "Order the servants to eject you," said Adrien. "How 
 did you come here?" 
 
 "By my legs," retorted the actress. "They're good for 
 something else besides dancing in your theater. Adrien, 
 you're an unfeeling brute to speak to me like this. And 
 it's very natural that I should come down here to see after 
 you, when I hear that you're going to marry that grand 
 swell that looks like a silver pheasant." 
 
 "Silence !" said Adrien, stoopingi to offer his arm, but 
 in reality grasping hers. "Keep your mask on and come 
 with me. If it should fall I would not answer for the 
 consequences." 
 
 She arose, mutely obedient, and moved by his side to a 
 passage opening on the terrace, the cream and crimson 
 of her magnificent robe contrasting finely with the black 
 velvet and lace of his Charles costume. 
 
 "Now," he said, drawing the curtain so that they were 
 hidden from the room, "there is something more in your 
 presence here than you seem willing to admit. My mar- 
 riage can matter nothing to you, Haidee; you have the 
 thousand a year for which you have pretended to love 
 me." 
 
 "I have not," she retorted, "and you know it." 
 
 He held up his hand with a gesture of contemptuous 
 command. 
 
 "Speak properly, if you can," he said, "or I leave you 
 at once. You say that you have not received the deed ?" 
 
 "I haven't," said Haidee, sulkily. "And it ain't no use 
 you carryin' it on in this high-handed way, because I ain't 
 going to be deceived by it. You promised that you would 
 make me an allowance of a thousand a year when you left 
 me. You've left me, and where's the thousand?" 
 
 "I gave the deed to Jasper," said Adrien, looking down 
 upon her thoughtfully and with a dislike which set him 
 wondering how he could ever have endured such a crea- 
 ture near him. 
 
 "You gave it to Jasper, did you?" said Haidee, sud- 
 denly, and pulling off her mask as she spoke. "Hang me 
 if I didn't think so. That Jasper's a thief. I heard," she 
 continued, disregarding Adrien's warning gesture. "I 
 heard you say something about a deed, and I thought it
 
 176 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 was mine, but Jasper said it was something about the 
 theater, and told me a long rigamarole, which of course 
 hadn't a grain of truth in it. Jasper's a bad one, and he's 
 sold me. He's got the coin and I'll split on him as I 
 threatened. Adrien, don't stand there looking at me as if 
 you were a king ; I'm not to be put down. I intend to ex- 
 pose the whole plant. I'll show you what a fool they've 
 made of you who thought yourself so wise ; 111 tell you a 
 thing or two as will make you open your eyes wider than 
 they are now. I'll " 
 
 "Silence !" said Adrien, as the band ceased, and voices 
 were heard approaching the entrance. "Not another 
 word. There is some mistake; Jasper has forgotten, or 
 has thought fit to keep the deed from you. Whatever he 
 did is right. You shall have the money; I say so, and 
 you know I never break my word. Now go. Every mo- 
 ment you stay your danger increases. The baron, my 
 father, is used to be obeyed, and to punish an insult as it 
 deserves; your presence here is an insult, Haidee; you 
 are no idiot, and know that it is so. If he should see 
 
 you Hush ! Slip on that domino," and he pointed to a 
 
 long, black masque cloak which hung over the balus- 
 trade, "and leave the castle. You shall have the money, I 
 swear it, but let me see your face no more." 
 
 He threw the cloak around her and pointed to the flight 
 of steps; then as she descended he re-entered the ball- 
 room as his father's voice was heard inquiring for him. 
 
 "Lady Constance has your name upon her carte for this 
 dance," said the baron. "Where have you been, Adrien ?" 
 
 Adrien passed his hand across his brow with a half sigh 
 and evaded the question. 
 
 "Where is Lady Constance, my lord? Ah, I see her 
 and will go to her. The ball is going off well, sir, don't 
 you think?" 
 
 The baron nodded and fixed his keen eyes upon his 
 son's face. 
 
 "Ay," he said, "your friends are pronouncing it a suc- 
 cess ; I overheard one of them, a Mr. Pomfrey, declare it 
 a vision of the Restoration. But Lady Constance waits." 
 
 Adrien inclined his head and made his way to Lady
 
 Staunch of Heart. 177 
 
 Constance, who was surrounded by a small crowd of 
 courtiers. 
 
 She looked up as he approached, and took his proffered 
 arm without a word. 
 
 He looked at her beautiful face, and a sensation almost 
 like a faint electric shock ran through him at the purity 
 of her beauty so great a contrast to the woman he had 
 just parted from, that he loathed the vulgar actress and 
 almost himself for ever having touched her hand. 
 
 In that moment Love, spying the soft place in his armor, 
 took sure aim and sent home one of his magic shafts. 
 
 When Lady Constance raised her calm, modest eyes to 
 his face, the sudden change in it from careless languor 
 to earnest interest startled her. 
 
 "Where have you been, Adrien ?" she said. "I thought 
 you had forgotten me." 
 
 "No," he said, sharply. "I remembered you so well 
 that I have been removing that which would have been 
 an insult in your presence." 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked, with surprise. 
 
 "No matter," he said. 'Constance, do you care for the 
 dance ? I would gladly exchange it for some moments of 
 quiet with you; shall we go on to the terrace?" 
 
 Constance inclined her head. 
 
 "I shall be delighted," she said. "I am tired already, 
 and longing for the air." 
 
 "Come, then," he said, catching up her crape shawl 
 that hung over the seat, and arranging it over her shoul- 
 ders with the gentlest touch. 
 
 She passed on to the terrace and seemed to have slipped 
 into another world, so great a contrast was the peaceful 
 moonlight valley beneath them to the highly colored ball- 
 room they had left. 
 
 As the curtain swung behind them Mephistopheles flut- 
 tered past and shot a sharp glance after them through the 
 eyeballs of his full rigid mask ; then with a sinister smile 
 left the room by another means of exit, ran lightly down 
 the steps, gained a brougham, entered it, and with mar- 
 velous rapidity exchanged his costume for plain evening 
 dress. 
 
 Over this he threw a large domino, with his crush hat in
 
 178 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 his hand, and, keeping well in the shadow of the shrubs, 
 made for that part of the garden which was directly under 
 the terrace where Adrien had led Constance. 
 
 Here, motionless and almost breathless, Mephistoph'eles, 
 alias Mr. Jasper Vermont, listened with acute ears. 
 
 "It is hot," said Constance, throwing her shawl from 
 her white shoulders. 
 
 "All the more reason that you should be careful," said 
 Adrien, replacing it with the same gentleness. 
 
 Lady Constance smiled and looked up at his handsome 
 face gratefully. 
 
 "You are very tired of all this, I am afraid," she said* 
 "Shall I ever forget that you have endured it for me?" 
 
 "I would not have you forget," he said, seating himself 
 beside her, and looking up into her eyes, which seemed to 
 have some charm for him which was strange and sweet. 
 "Constance, I would go through real sorrow and pain to 
 gratify the slightest whim of yours." 
 
 She moved a little way from him, and turned her head 
 aside. 
 
 "Adrien," she said, in a low, reproachful voice, "why 
 will you talk so to me to me who know that your words 
 mean so little?" 
 
 He put his hand upon her arm. 
 
 "Men discover gold by its ringing tone," he said. "You 
 are too keen a refiner to be deceived ; listen, and confess 
 that I offer you no counterfeit when I repeat, Constance, 
 that I would die to serve your slightest wish !" 
 
 There was an earnestness in his voice which she could 
 not misunderstand, but she kept her face turned from 
 him, and he learned only from the quick-drawn breath 
 that she had heard him. 
 
 "Constance," he continued, "turn your face to me and 
 listen. Tonight a change has come over me which is so 
 wondrous that I am dazzled and almost bewildered by it. 
 Can you guess what it is?" 
 
 She looked at him sadly and shook her head ere she 
 turned it from him again. 
 
 He laid his hand upon her arm and gazed eagerly up 
 at her. 
 
 "The change is one I have been thirsting for. Con-
 
 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 stance, this morning I was weary of life; tonight life 
 seems so precious to me that I would have it last forever. 
 This morning my heart was as cold and as heavy as this 
 stone. Tonight it has grown hot and beats fast, for I 
 love!" 
 
 She started and trembled. 
 
 He took her hand and pressed it until it burned as hotly 
 as his own. 
 
 "I love you, Constance! Deem it no weak, transcient 
 fancy because it has come so suddenly. With me to love 
 once is to love forever. You are my first love, Constance, 
 and you will be my last, however it may go with me, for 
 ill or well. Will you speak, and tell me that it shall go 
 well? Alas! I am not worthy to touch your hand, as 
 pure as it is white, as innocent as it is soft and gentle. 
 Constance, forgive me the folly of my past life, and if that 
 folly has grown into sin, pardon that also, and take me 
 into your own peaceful life. Speak, Constance, from this 
 moment I cast off the old life with all its wickedness and 
 weariness, and lay my fortune at your feet. Will you 
 stoop and take it?" 
 
 As his passionate words died out the beautiful girl arose 
 and looked down upon him. There was a light in her face, 
 a tremor on her lips he had thought impossible for them 
 to have worn. 
 
 "No!" she answered, in a low, touching voice. 
 
 "No!" he repeated, sadly, and with a sudden pallor. 
 "No! You do not love me, Constance?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, "and for that reason I will not be your 
 wife. Adrien, a change has fallen upon me, too. This 
 morning I woke with a vow upon my lips. I had sworn 
 to make you love me. As certainly as that your heart bore 
 no love for me for six hours past, I did not love. But 
 now, how I know not, you have made me love you, and I 
 say 'No!' a thousand times. 'No!' Adrien, do not speak 
 until you learn that I heard you promise to the baron to 
 try and love me ! Do not think that I, a Tremaine, will 
 take you, a Leroy, when you throw yourself at my feet 
 prompted by filial obedience! No, had you loved me 
 against your father's wish, loved me for myself, and not to 
 please an old man's wfhim, I would have cast myself at
 
 i8o Staunch of Heart. 
 
 your feet and followed you to the end of the world. But 
 now i say that, though death were the penalty of my re- 
 f usal, I would not wed you ! Go ! and learn the bitter les- 
 son that a weak woman can be nobler than a strong man !" 
 
 He sprang to his feet and grasped her hand. 
 
 "No !" he said. "But I say 'Yes !' Constance. How lit- 
 tle you know me! Your words, instead of turning me 
 from my purpose, have turned it into one of steel. It is 
 true I gave a promise, it is true that I spoke of you so 
 lightly that I could strike these lips for their cold inso- 
 lence ; but now I swear to you by the Heaven above me 
 that I love as passionately as ever man loved since love 
 was man's heritage, and that though you say 'No' till the 
 church has made us one, one we shall be ! Weak indeed 
 are you, my darling, if you think to oppose the passion of 
 my love by so frail a barrier. My father was right ! You 
 are worthy of a Leroy's love, worthy of the love that the 
 greatest of men might bring you ! Noble Constance, take 
 back your 'No' and murmur 'Yes'." 
 
 As he spoke he drew her toward him and pressed his 
 lips to her forehead. 
 
 Neither heard a step behind them, and it was not until 
 a warning cough roused them that Adrien started and was 
 aware of the presence of Jasper Vermont. 
 
 "Jasper," he said, almost sternly, and drawing the shawl 
 around Constance, as if to shield her from other eyes save 
 his own, "you here !" 
 
 "Yes," answered Jasper. "I have traveled posthaste. 
 Adrien, I have important business a matter of life and 
 death." 
 
 He moved forward as he spoke, and the light falling on 
 his smooth, clean face showed it to be so white and moved 
 that Lady Constance fell back a step and Adrien stared 
 with surprise. 
 
 "Important!" he repeated. "Life and death! Good 
 heavens, Jasper, no one is dead ! The duke is here all I 
 know or care for are in the room yonder. What is it the 
 theater?" and a faint smile crossed his lips. 
 
 "Pshaw!" exclaimed Jasper, with a feverish gesture, 
 "The theater? No! Adrien, there is not a moment to
 
 Staunch of Heart. 181 
 
 lose. I must speak with you instantly you smile, man, 
 when you are in deadly peril." 
 
 At the words Constance sprang forward and grasped 
 Adrien's arm. 
 
 Jasper glanced at her such a passionate, thirsty, hun- 
 gry look as a starved wolf might cast at a lamb. 
 
 "Peril !" she repeated. 
 
 "Peril!" said Adrien, smiling still. "My good Jasper, 
 what peril can I be in ? This is the nineteenth century, and 
 there are no assassins in England ! However, let me take 
 Lady Constance to the dance again, and then we will en- 
 joy this little romance." 
 
 Jasper smiled bitterly and took out his watch. 
 
 "Adrien Leroy," he said, "you have ten minutes be- 
 tween you and dishonor!" 
 
 Adrien turned and raised his arm, with such a changed 
 face that Constance scarcely knew it. 
 
 "Adrien !" she cried, shuddering at the magnificent 
 anger in his eyes, "he is mad!" Then to Jasper: "Go, 
 sir, go ! If this is a jest it is a sorry one, for which you 
 will receive full punishment. Go!" 
 
 "No," said Adrien, "it is no jest. There is something 
 he has to say. Let him say it. Go, Constance," and with 
 a murmured word of endearment he drew back the cur- 
 tain for her. 
 
 With a pale face and trembling heart, Constance passed 
 into the ballroom and seated herself near the entrance, 
 overcome by a nameless fear and that horrible helpless- 
 ness which falls on us all when weighed down by sus- 
 pense. 
 
 Suddenly she determined to seek the baron, and arose 
 to do so, when a short, sharp cry from the terrace sent the 
 blood to her heart and wrung a scream from her lips. 
 
 Instantly throughout the immense room there was a 
 dead silence, which, falling so suddenly on the loud 
 strains of the music, the talking and laughing, was inde- 
 scribably harsh and appalling. 
 
 The next moment the grotesque crowd turned to the 
 entrance from whence the cry seemed to proceed, and 
 there arose a great shout of astonishment and alarm, for
 
 i&2 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 through the opening, from which the sudden pressure had 
 torn away the curtain, could be seen a strange group. 
 
 Adrien Leroy, in kingly costume and with kingly face, 
 standing over the prostrate body of a man, while two 
 others with scraps of paper in their hands were grasping 
 his arms, and Mr. Jasper Vermont near his side, kept 
 back a fourth with his own arm. 
 
 "Adrien !' 3 said the baron, as he came through the lane 
 which the crowd had made for him, followed by the due, 
 Lady Constance and the marquis. "Adrien! what is 
 this! By Heaven, am I mad or dreaming?" and he 
 turned with blazing eyes from Adrien to Mr. Jasper 
 Vermont who, white as himself, avoided his fiery glance, 
 and shook his head solemnly. 
 
 Adrien winced, but before he could speak the man be- 
 hind Jasper Vermont stepped up, and, with grim stolidity, 
 held out a strip of paper to the baron, and said: 
 
 "Sorry, my lord, to have to do this at such a moment, 
 but duty is duty, as you know, my lord, and " 
 
 The baron stared at him, then, evidently deaf as a post 
 to what he was saying, struck the nearest of the men who 
 held Adrien and struck at the next, but the marquis seized 
 his arm. 
 
 "Unhand me!" roared the baron. "I'll put an end to 
 this mummery ! Can't you speak, sir ?" he cried hoarsely 
 to Adrien. 
 
 "Father," said Adrien, turning to the staring, bewil- 
 dered crowd, and then suddenly falling silent as his eyes 
 met the dark, flashing ones of Lady Eveline, which were 
 fixed on his face. 
 
 Before another word could be spoken the man who had 
 addressed the baron before, evidently irritated by his re- 
 ception, motioned to his men, and they closed around; 
 then speaking quickly, he raised his voice, and said : 
 
 "It's no use, my lord, it must come out, I see. Gentle- 
 men all, I arrest Mr. Leroy in the Queen's name, on a 
 charge of forgery!" 
 
 A cry of horror burst from the crowd. 
 
 "Forgery!" the dreadful word passed from mouth to 
 mouth ay, and eye to eye, as the gayly-dressed throng 
 looked at each other aghast.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 183 
 
 "Forgery!" cried the due, stepping forward, sternly. 
 
 "Forgery!" said the baron, with a ferocious laugh. 
 "What mad folly is this! Adrien, is this a part of the 
 evening's programme, an arranged tableau? Truly, well 
 played, but a little too tragic in its mirth to suit my an- 
 tiquated tastes. Gentlemen, I implore you lower the cur- 
 tain !" 
 
 And with a fearful laugh he turned aside. 
 
 A dreadful silence fell upon every soul, for they saw 
 that there was reality, a stern reality. 
 
 The due, who had taken the strip of paper from the of- 
 ficer's hands and read it hastily, laid his strong palm upon 
 the old man's shoulder and muttered, hoarsely: 
 
 "My lord, there is something in the men's madness I 
 do not understand. Let them go," and he waved his 
 hand to the crowd. 
 
 "No !" thundered the baron, turning like a lion. "They 
 shall stay and see the play to the end." 
 
 Then, in a voice hoarse with excitement and passion, 
 he addressed Adrien. 
 
 "Now, sir, explain; let us have it all; or, by Heaven 
 above, I shall forget myself and you!" 
 
 Adrien beckoned to the men that he would make no 
 attempt to escape, and quickly stepped forward. 
 
 All that saw him remembered afterward that he had 
 never looked so princely as at that moment of his degra- 
 dation. 
 
 "My lord," he said, "I am arrested on a charge of 
 forging the Due de Rouen's signature to a bill for ten 
 thousand pounds, on the twenty-second of last month." 
 
 As he spoke his calm, mournful glance wandered for a 
 moment to the restless eyes of the Undine. 
 
 "Well," said the baron, drawing a long breath, but evi- 
 dently making a great effort at restraint. "I may be ar- 
 rested on a charge of stealing the crown jewels or burn- 
 ing the House of Parliament. It would be an excellent 
 jest, but one that would speedily end." 
 
 "This is no jest," said Adrien, and he looked at the due, 
 who stood white and seeming bewildered with surprise 
 at his side. "The due has acknowledged the signature 
 to be a forgery. The writing has a resemblance to mine.
 
 184 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 There are three witnesses to prove that they saw me enter 
 the house where the bill was signed, and a hundred who 
 passed my (carriage standing at the door of the office. All 
 this, my lord, passes jest." 
 
 "Ay," said the baron, "for a Leroy, who can command 
 a hundred thousand by a stroke of his pen, to forge a bill 
 for ten thousand is not jest but madness. The charge is 
 some insolent conspiracy yours, sir, no doubt," and, with 
 a contempt indescribable, he turned to Jasper, who all 
 this time had stood motionless, his gray eyes glancing 
 first at Adrien's calm, noble face, then at the restless eyes 
 of Undine, and then the white face of Lady Constance, 
 who stood at Adrien's side and gazed around with a 
 scorn unapproachable. 
 
 Adrien shook his head. 
 
 "No, sir, they have not wanted a motive. They tell me 
 I wanted this money solely, for I am ruined!" 
 
 "Ruined !" exclaimed the baron, for the first time per- 
 mitting the scorn of his smile to wax faint. "Ruined 1 
 Great heaven! the viper has turned at last, and I have 
 lived to look on at your betrayal!" 
 
 Jasper stepped back slightly, for the old man had 
 turned upon him with uplifted arm, but not to strike, for 
 it fell to his side suddenly, and with a groan he sank 
 against the balustrade. 
 
 There was a deadly silence, broken by the due, who, 
 wiping the great beads of perspiration from his forehead, 
 sprang around and grasped Adrien's hand. 
 
 "Adrien," he cried, "I can bear it no longer; give this 
 foul thing the lie and let me fling these wretches over the 
 terrace, or I shall go mad! I swear before Heaven that 
 you did not write I cannot utter it! I know as surely 
 as that I did not write it myself, that you know nothing 
 of the cursed signature. Oh, Adrien, explain it, give 
 them the lie. Tell that old man ere he breaks his heart 
 that you are guiltless. I know it we all know it, but to 
 humor us, give it tongue!" 
 
 Adrien grasped his hand with a smile that lit up his 
 -whole face, then looking around, said, quietly: 
 
 "I did not write it ; I know nothing of it."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 185 
 
 The baron sprang forward at the sound of his voice, 
 and fell upon his breast, then, as if ashamed of the par- 
 donable emotion, turned to the officer. 
 
 "You hear, sir ? Mr. Leroy knows nothing of this mat- 
 ter. He denies it not because a denial is necessary, but 
 because his friend requests it. You may go." 
 
 The officer shook his head. 
 
 "I'm sorry, my lord, but I cannot release Mr. Leroy on 
 such terms. My instructions were far too strict. Denial 
 is a common matter, too; and, begging pardon for the 
 liberty, my lord, I think an alibi would have proved sat- 
 isfactory. Mr. Leroy of course didn't commit the for- 
 gery, and of course he can tell you where he was at 
 eight o'clock on the evening of the twenty-second " 
 
 "Adrien," said the due, "one favor I ask not for my- 
 self, but others," and he glanced at Constance and the 
 baron. "Tell us what this fellow would have you. Where 
 were you at eight o'clock on the twenty-second?" 
 
 Adrien remained silent. 
 
 The due grew hot, and then white with irritation and 
 suspense. 
 
 "Think, my dear fellow," he said, in a quick, impatient 
 voice. "At the club the theatre (where were you? 
 Don't you remember have you forgotten?" And he 
 stamped his foot on the ground, for though he would 
 have laughed to scorn any assertion of his friend's guilt, 
 and would have thought him mad if he had even confessed 
 it himself, it annoyed him to see Adrien so silent when the 
 crowd were hanging on his lips and devouring him with 
 their tyes. 
 
 "Do I forget ? No ; I remember where I was at eight 
 o'clock on the twenty-second," and his eyes rested on the 
 dark ones again. 
 
 "Then, for Heaven's sake, tell them!" exclaimed the 
 due. 
 
 "I cannot," said Adrien, turning with a sigfh. 
 
 The officer shook his head, made a signal with his hand 
 and, as if by magic, the four men closed around the 
 kingly form, and a score more sprang on to the terrace 
 and surrounded them.
 
 186 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "In the Queen's name, stand back all!" cried the of- 
 ficer, and amid a fearful confusion of screams and excla- 
 mations, the officers moved on to the head of the terrace 
 and the front file were half down the steps when a voice 
 cried "Stop !" and a man with a bloated face and blood- 
 shot eyes stumbled up the steps and looked savagely 
 around.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A WONDERFUL LIKENESS. 
 
 Leaving the interrupted procession on the terrace at 
 Barminster, we must return to the riverside village of 
 Weybridge. 
 
 No sooner had Mr. Jasper Vermont taken his depar- 
 ture than poor little Lucy Ashford sank on the floor and 
 burst into a flood of tears. So great had been the strain 
 that she was completely unnerved, and had quite forgot- 
 ten the likelihood of her husband's immediate return and 
 Reah's mysterious disappearance. 
 
 The dim cloud of apprehension which her heart had 
 given her presentiment of had burst upon her head. Mr. 
 Jasper Vermont, the strange gentleman who held her 
 secret, was alive ay, and more than that, had not for- 
 gotten nor failed to threaten her. 
 
 Presently, recalled to a sense of her position, she 
 jumped up and called to Reah. Then she remembered that 
 the girl had disappeared, and, fearful of being left alone 
 to encounter Mr. Jasper, whose return she expected mo- 
 mentarily, she ran to the door, calling on the girl's name 
 in a paroxysm of nerveless terror, which ended at last 
 in an attack of hysterics, in the midst of which honest 
 John returned to find her. 
 
 With an exclamation of alarm he raised her from the 
 floor, carried her upstairs, and ran for the doctor. 
 
 When the doctor came Lucy had relapsed into low 
 fever, and was talking deliriously of an inn at Canter- 
 bury and an individual by the name of Johann Wilfer. 
 
 Her husband paid little attention to her wandering, in- 
 coherent sentences in the first excitement of his anxiety ; 
 but presently, as they took distinct form, and she plainly 
 confessed the one error of her life, poor John recoiled 
 from the bed and looked around him with a bewildered, 
 sorrow-stricken air.
 
 i88 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 All the little strangenesses in his wife's conduct and 
 manner were now explained. He had been deceived! 
 She had loved another before him, and at the bitter truth 
 John Ashford hid his face in the homely counterpane and 
 sobbed like a child. 
 
 Honest tears bring relief and soften the heart. 
 When Lucy Ashford awoke she found her husband's 
 eyes, still wet with tears, looking at her with pitying 
 tenderness. 
 
 "John," she said, faintly, "you know all?" and hid her 
 face in her hands. 
 
 "Yes, dear, you've told me all. Why didn't you tell me 
 before?" 
 
 She looked at him with open eyes in wonder. Was that 
 all the reproach his righteous anger would deal out to 
 her? Could it be possible that, knowing all, dear, good 
 John loved her still, and would still call her his wife? 
 Oh, yes! and for testimony thereof his arm was around 
 her neck and his kiss of forgiveness upon her lips. 
 
 "John," she said, crying with ineffable thankfulness 
 and peace, "send for poor father; it will be new life to 
 him to know that this dreadful weight is off my heart, 
 and that you, knowing what a bad woman I have been, 
 still call me your little Lucy ! Oh, John, John, fetch him 
 fetch him!" 
 
 John kissed her, and without a word put on his hat. 
 If his little Lucy had asked him to bring her a chip from 
 the tombstone of Franklin at the North Pole kind-hearted 
 John would have started off to procure it as unhesitat- 
 ingly. 
 
 He borrowed -a horse and a rickety dogcart from a 
 neighbor and started off in the starless night for Mr. 
 Harker, leaving word with the doctor who with his 
 own hands was preparing a cooling draught in the little 
 parlor that when Reah returned she was to sit with and 
 cheer up Lucy until he came back from London. 
 
 Now it happened that Mr. Harker was late at the office 
 that night, bending, sad and wrinkled and wan, over his 
 repugnant tasks. Sigh after sigh broke from his thin 
 lips as he arranged the gins and snares for the unsuspect- 
 ing victims Mr. Jasper Vermont, his master, had set his 
 heart on catching.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 189 
 
 It was hard, very hard to be the tool of such a merci- 
 less fiend, to be the servant of such a master of deceit, 
 villainy and fraud ; but so greatly did the father love his 
 erring child that he would scarce have hesitated in com- 
 mitting murder had Jasper Vermont set that crime as a 
 price of his forbearance and silence. He would purchase 
 his daughter's safety and happiness with his heart's blood 
 if need be. 
 
 With this resolve he worked on, setting in order the 
 various accounts which Mr. Jasper would require to be 
 laid before him on the morrow, and entering in a book 
 concise histories of the debts and difficulties which placed 
 dozens of Mr. Jasper's acquaintances in his power. 
 
 A knock at the door startled and aroused him from his 
 task. Hastily shutting the intricate ledger and covering 
 the deeds and documents with a large sheet of paper, the 
 old man arose and opened the door. 
 
 It was John Ashford, and at the sight of his round, 
 kindly face he staggered back, clasped the table with one 
 hand and gasped: 
 
 "Lucy!" 
 
 "AH right all right," said John, reassuringly, but with 
 a quieter voice than his usual one ; "don't be frightened. 
 Mr. Harker. Sit down. It's rather sudden; but when 
 she says 'Go and fetch father' you see I come and fetch 
 you directly." 
 
 "Lucy is ill ?" said Mr. Harker, trying to calm himself, 
 and wiping the perspiration from his forehead. 
 
 John nodded and sighed and glanced at Mr. Barker's 
 hat and coat. 
 
 The old man arose, put his hat on and nodded at the 
 door. 
 
 "Don't tell me she's very ill, John,'* he said, in a trem- 
 bling voice, "until we get outside. I'm an old man, John, 
 and she's the only child I've got." 
 
 John helped him on with his coat, reassuring him the 
 white. 
 
 The two, after having locked up the office, started for 
 Weybridge. 
 
 Until they had left the London streets behind and the 
 early morning had revealed the beauties of the road
 
 190 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 neither of them spoke a word; then John, avoiding all 
 mention of Lucy's secret, told the old man of how he had 
 found her lying on the floor. 
 
 Mr. Marker's troubled face darkened and his thin hands 
 went up to his mouth in a thoughtful, pondering way. 
 But though his face grew darker, and an angry, resolute 
 light came into his dim eyes, he never said a word. 
 
 They were within a few miles of Weybridge when John 
 pulled up the horse with an exclamation of astonishment. 
 In the act of turning down a lane a few yards before ( 
 them was a young girl. 
 
 After a moment of motionless surprise he threw the 
 reins to Mr. Harker's knees, leaped from the cart, ran 
 after the girl and caught her by the arm. 
 
 "Maria," he cried, "what are you doing here, my girl ? 
 You haven't left Lucy?" reproachfully. 
 
 The girl looked up at him with sorrowful, questioning 
 eyes. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I have. I am going to London. I 
 can't stay with you, although you were so good. Oh, sir, 
 let me go, let me go." 
 
 John dropped his arm and shook his head sadly. 
 "Well, my girl," he said, "I didn't think you were one 
 of that sort, to leave my Lucy, as was so good to you 
 when she was ill and hadn't a soul near her." 
 
 "Ill !" said Reah, with a bewildered look. "She was not 
 ill. It was the lady with him," and she shuddered, "not 
 your wife." 
 
 John looked at her as if he thought the girl had taken 
 leave of her senses. 
 
 "I don't know what lady you mean, my girl," he said, 
 "but I left Lucy ill, very ill, and waiting for you. You 
 see I didn't think you'd run away and leave her at such a 
 moment. But you're your own mistress, my poor child, 
 and I won't stay you," and he turned and walked toward 
 the dogcart. 
 
 Reah followed him without a word, and he, seeing that 
 she did so, lifted her into the cart. 
 
 No sooner had he done so, hbwtever, that Mr. Harker 
 sprang to his feet, and staring at her with startled eyes, 
 asked Jofc who she was.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 191" 
 
 "This," said John, forcing him into his seat and starting 
 lii'e horse, "is Maria, a friend of Lucy's. Do you know 
 her?" 
 
 Mr. Harker shook his head, but still kept his eyes upon 
 her. 
 
 "Maria!" he repeated. "A friend of Lucy's! Has she 
 no other name? Where does she come from?" 
 
 Neither made any reply John because he could not; 
 Reah because she seemed perfectly indifferent to both his 
 presence and his agitation ; and the old man, eyeing her at 
 intervals, muttered in his dry voice: 
 
 "Wonderful likeness wonderful ! I could have sworn 
 Yet it cannot be. A friend of Lucy's !" 
 
 They reached Weybridge and Reah, leaping from the 
 dogcart, ran with her light, half-savage way past the two 
 men, and with noiseless feet entered Lucy's room, bending 
 over the bed and taking Lucy's hand with a grateful, lov- 
 ing glance, as much as if to implore her not to think she 
 had forsaken her. 
 
 "They have come?" said Lucy. 
 
 Reah nodded, and John and Mr. Harker entered at the 
 moment. 
 
 "John, dear," said Lucy, "leave us for a minute." 
 
 John stooped and kissed her, patting her hand as softly 
 as a woman might have done, and beckoning to Reah to 
 follow him, left the room. 
 
 Half an hour afterward the parlor door opened and 
 Mr. Harker entered. 
 
 "What's the matter?" said John, starting to her feet 
 "Is she worse?" 
 
 "No," said the old man; "thank Heaven, she is better! 
 John Ashford, I have come to beg your forgiveness on my 
 knees. It was I who overcame her scruples and bade her 
 marry you. I did it for the best. I did it that she might 
 be happy. She tells me you have forgiven her; but can 
 you forgive me?" 
 
 John, with tears in his eyes, caught him by the arm and 
 shook his hand. 
 
 "You did it for her," he said. "I have nothing to for- 
 give. If my poor darling had only plucked up courage 
 and told me all the hour we were man and wife she would
 
 192 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 have learned how dearly I loved her, and saved you both 
 many unhappy years." 
 
 "Bless you, John!" said the old man, buttonmj*- his 
 coat, "you are a good man. Would to Heaven we had 
 done rightly by you from the first!" 
 
 "Well, well," said John, "never let us say another word, 
 never let us think about it again. And now may 1 go 
 upstairs? But where are you going?" as the o)d. man 
 put on his hat. 
 
 "Back to London," said Mr. Harker, in his dry jc'ce, 
 smiling grimly. "I have work to do, an account to settle, 
 John, for Lucy and myself. You don't know all yet, 
 John; you don't know, you never will know, what poor 
 Lucy and I have suffered. We've been slaves all these 
 years, trembling and shrinking under a villain's nod arid 
 frown. Tve sold myself to a demon, who, in consideration 
 of my services, of my body and soul, John, promised to 
 keep his talons from my poor Lucy. He knew of her 
 misfortune, and he threatened to let the world and you, 
 John, know of it, too, if I didn't bind myself to him and 
 do his villainous work. I have done it, John, for years. 
 I have endured shame and agony unspeakable that my 
 darling's secret might be safe. I have been his tool and his 
 scapegoat. Men whom he has ruined through me have 
 spat upon and cursed me. I, an old man, going to the 
 grave, have earned the title of usurer and thief ! All this 
 I have done and suffered that he should never blight my 
 child's happiness by his presence. He has broken the 
 contract ; he was here yesterday, John, and with his fiend- 
 ish face and threats nearly killed her. New his power is 
 gone! Lucy is free and I am free. He has done that 
 which he had sworn not to do. Now I take my turn, and 
 for every tear he has wrung from my darling's eyes I 
 will wring a groan from his black heart ! Don't speak to 
 me, John. Go up to Lucy. If she lives or if she dies I'll 
 avenge her !" 
 
 Then before the astounded John could utter a word he 
 left the house.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 "FORGER AND VILLAIN." 
 
 &t the singular and unprepossessing appearance 
 the strange man presented, the officer who had the com- 
 mand of the arresting party moved closer to Adrien and 
 looked around at the baron for an explanation. 
 
 But his stern, agitated face showed no signs of recog- 
 nition, and the remainder of the group seemed stricken 
 with such bewilderment of the faculties that Mr. Jasper 
 Vermont ventured with a properly composed face to step 
 forward. 
 
 "What do you want, my man?" he asked, glancing at 
 the dissipated, low-bred face with grave eyes. 
 
 "I don't want you," retorted the man, roughly eyeing 
 Mr. Vermont from the corner of his eyes. "I don't know 
 you. I want Mr. Adrien Leroy!" 
 
 At this moment one of the officers moved slightly and 
 disclosed the tall, princely figure. 
 
 The man sprang forward as if about to strike Adrien, 
 but the duke struck him across the chest and bore him 
 back. 
 
 "Who is this ruffian?" he exclaimed, in his broken Eng- 
 lish, 'his pale face crimsoning at this fresh indignity of- 
 fered to his well-beloved friend. 
 
 Then he added, turning to the officer: 
 
 "Have you brought all the scum of the earth at your 
 back, sir?" 
 
 The officer shook his head. 
 
 "I don't know this man," he answered, "or his business. 
 Do you, Mr. Leroy?" he asked, touching his cap with 
 unconscious respect to his prisoner. 
 
 "I do," said Adrien, in the low, restrained voice in 
 which he had spoken since his arrest. 
 
 ''I should think you did!" exclaimed the man, stand- 
 ing forward and staring around. "It ain't likely as you'll 
 forget me, nor me you "
 
 194 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "By Heavens !" exclaimed the duke, enraged beyond en- 
 durance by the man's insolence, "this is too much." 
 
 And he strode forward. 
 
 "Stop!"' said Adrien in a sad voice. "Let him speak. 
 Come, sir, speak to the point and quickly. What do you 
 want of me?" 
 
 "What I asked a month ago!" answered the man, in- 
 solently, glancing around to see what effect his words 
 had had, and letting his eyes rest for a moment upon 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont, who stood quietly regarding him, 
 his face full of sympathy for his friend and benefactor, 
 whose troubles appeared never ending. 
 
 The crowd pressed closer than at fever pitch. 
 
 What new phase of the scandal was this fellow in seedy 
 clothes and swollen face about to introduce? 
 
 "I want my niece, my girl, Reah !" said the man, "my 
 girl as you took from her home and deceived. That's 
 what I want, Mr. Leroy, and the sooner I has it the better 
 it'll be for all parties." 
 
 Adrien looked at him with darkened brow, then he 
 turned to the duke, sorrowfully. 
 
 "This man," he said, "has a fancied grievance against 
 me ; will you do me the last act of kindness that will be in 
 your power, and hear what he has to say? Tell him I 
 know nothing of his niece " 
 
 "That's false," exclaimed Mr. Wilfer, savagely, inter- 
 rupting him. 
 
 The duke raised his arm, but an officer caught it, and 
 with a warning gesture forced Mr. Wilfer out of reach. 
 
 "So it is false!" retorted Mr. Wilfer, looking fiercely 
 around, still with a cunning underglance at Mr. Jasper's 
 troubled face as if seeking his approval. "He does know 
 where she is, for he took her from her home, and she 
 hasn't been seen since she entered his chambers ! If she's 
 alive, where is she? and if she ain't, then this high and 
 mighty swell, as is dressed like a king, is nothing better 
 than a murderer!" 
 
 A thrill of horror ran through the throng, Mr. Jasper 
 flung his hands before his face as if to shut out the sight 
 of his friend's face. 
 
 Constance, breaking from the baron's determined grasp,
 
 Staunch of Heart. 195 
 
 moved with quiet dignity to Adrien's side again and laid 
 her hand upon his arm, while a tall figure, dressed in 
 scarlet robes that were half concealed by a large blue 
 domino, moved a step nearer to that part of the crowd and 
 fixed her eyes upon Mr. Wilfer. 
 
 "Let him answer that!" continued Mr. Wilfer, loudly, 
 and with the air of a painfully injured and indignant man. 
 "Let him answer that, and if he goes to deny it let him 
 look at this," and he drew Adrien's watch from a tattered 
 pocket in his coat. "Perhaps he'll say that this ain't his 
 watch! But there's plenty here as can recognize it, if 
 there wasn't his coat of arms on the back. Where did I 
 get this? No, I didn't steal it," he continued, fiercely, in 
 answer to a muttered question by the officer. "He give 
 me this, flung it to me like to a dog, to hold my 
 tongue. Ask him, some of you, if he remembers the 
 night I met him in the park ! A mighty fine gentleman, 
 a regular honorable gentleman, who robs a poor man of 
 his innocerft niece, and when he's asked to give an ac- 
 count of her flings me his watch to stop my tongue I" 
 
 Mr. Wilfer paused, not for lack of invective, but for 
 want of breath. 
 
 The crowd surged to and fro, and half-spoken exclama- 
 tions of astonishment, wonder and horror broke from a 
 hundred lips. 
 
 Could it be possible that Adrien Leroy, the soul of 
 honor, the man whom they had been adoring through 
 three brilliant seasons, could be the dishonorable scoundrel 
 which this dirty, drunken-looking man proclaimed him? 
 Impossible ! But the watch ! 
 
 And the masked faces turned to one another with pain- 
 ful doubt and distress which formed in an audible 
 "Hush!" as Adrien, averting his eyes from Lady Con- 
 stance's face, turned to the baron, who had arisen and 
 was sternly regarding him. 
 
 "Do you believe this man's vile story, sir?" he asked, in 
 clear tones. 
 
 "Believe it!" interrupted Mr. Wilfer, who was deter- 
 mined on playing his part. "He can't be off it ! Here's 
 the watch. A hundred people can prove as they saw my 
 girl "
 
 196 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Silence!" said Mr. Jasper, coming forward as if un- 
 able to endure the scene any longer. "Silence !" 
 
 Mr. Wilfer, whom no one else as yet succeeded in 
 silencing, was wordless in a moment. 
 
 Mr. Jasper turned to Adrien, and commenced speaking 
 in a low tone. 
 
 "Speak out," said Adrien, regarding him with a steady 
 look. "Speak out, if you are the friend I have taken you 
 for! I have no secrets from any here. Friends or ene- 
 mies, they may hear all." 
 
 Jasper shook his head sorrowfully. 
 
 "If you will have it so, Adrien," he said, "I was going 
 to implore you to give this fellow his answer and let him 
 go. Tell him you know nothing of this girl Reah, and 
 relieve us from such an accusation. Let me tell him that 
 you never saw her." 
 
 Adrien smiled sadly. 
 
 "That would not be true," he said. "I have seen her." 
 
 Lady Constance raised her pale face and looked at him 
 with a startled sort of incredulity. 
 
 "Ah, perhaps you'll admit taking her to your cham- 
 bers!" sneered Mr. Wilfer. 
 
 "I will," said Adrien. "I found her starving with 
 hunger and cold in the street, to which she had fled from 
 the brutal violence of her uncle, whose blows had left 
 their vile marks upon her arms. I took her to warmth 
 and food ; that is all the wrong I did her, as Heaven is my 
 witness, and as she herself would be were she here. 
 But, as you doubtless know, she left my chambers while 
 I was walking the streets, which I did that not even s 
 breath of suspicion could rest upon her. You have your 
 answer." 
 
 Mr. Wilfer, after glancing at Mr. Vermont with the 
 same hidden cunning, burst into a discordant laugh. 
 
 "Very well, but if your friends ain't the flats they're 
 supposed to be you won't get them to believe that ! Is it 
 a likely story? If she'd left you, run away as you say, 
 where would she go but back to her own home, where 
 she'd always been treated kindly? Wouldn't she have 
 turned up before this, even if it had been in the dead- 
 house ?"
 
 Staunch of Heart. 197 
 
 Adrien made a gesture of weary impatience and turned 
 to Constance. 
 
 But Constance, whose eyes were still fixed on his, 
 dropped her hand from his arm and staggered back. 
 
 "Adrien!" she wailed, in so low a tone that only he 
 could catch it, "I could have borne all but this!" 
 
 He seemed about to speak, but suddenly checking him- 
 self, motioned to the officer that he was ready to proceed. ! 
 
 But the officer, after regarding Mr. Wilfer thoughtfully 
 for a moment, called one of his men aside and gave him 
 some command. 
 
 The detective immediately crossed over to Johann Wil- 
 fer and laid his hand upon his shoulder. 
 . "What's this?" exclaimed Mr. Wilfer, starting and 
 looking around indignantly. "What does this mean? 
 What have I done?" 
 
 And he looked appealingly around, and at last at Mr. 
 Jasper. 
 
 "It means that you will have to come with us," said 
 the detective. "If your story's got anything in it I reckon 
 there will be another count in the indictment, and Mr. 
 Leroy will have another charge preferred against him 
 besides forgery. So come along, my friend." 
 
 But Mr. Wilfer struggled, and the crowd pouring 
 through the doorway in its eagerness to catch every word 
 and. action of this life drama, surrounded the center 
 group, murmuring excitedly. 
 
 Another officer left Adrien's escort and came to help his 
 companion. Wilfer in an instant felt the handcuffs slip- 
 ping over his dirty wrists, and shouted for help. 
 
 "What have I done ?" he shouted. "Is a man to be took 
 into custody and illtreated because he comes after his 
 niece? I've done nothing agin' the law, if that swell has. 
 Put me down, or I'll make it hot for you." 
 
 "Lift him up," said one constable to the other. 
 
 They raised the slouching figure from the floor and 
 dragged it along between them. 
 
 "Stop a moment!" said Mr. Jasper, with whose ar- 
 rangements the last move threatened to clash. "Do not 
 hurt the poor fellow. He is out of his mind, I think or 
 or something is wrong. Put him on his feet until 
 you get a warrant from his lordship."
 
 198 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 The baron, who was supporting Constance upon his 
 arm, turned away with a look of scornful repudiation, 
 which Mr. Jasper received with unmoved countenance. 
 
 "Well," he said, "take him away, and keep him safely, 
 that he may be punished if his story is not true." 
 
 "If !" cried the duke, who was turning to leave the ter- 
 race in Adrien's wake; "if, Mr. Vermont! Take heed! 
 There are not wanting those who will avenge your bene- 
 factor for every light word, though it come from so con- 
 temptible a creature as yourself." 
 
 Jasper turned up his eyes. 
 
 "Ah, my duke," he said, "it is well in you who have 
 ruined my poor friend ! It is easy to storm over the ashes 
 which alone remain of the fire your own hands lit !" 
 
 "Miscreant !" cried the baron, thrusting Constance from 
 him and striding to Jasper. 
 
 "Stand back, my lord," said the duke, "and leave him 
 to me. There is some fiendish plot at the bottom of all 
 this. I have my suspicions ; should they prove true, I will 
 deal this fellow punishment with a liberal hand. Go, sir ! 
 The man who has stood by your unworthy side when none 
 other could longer do so is where you cannot follow him 
 or trouble. Take your presence from this house, which it 
 defiles!" 
 
 Mr. Jasper smiled sadly, and turned around upon the 
 crowd. 
 
 "You wrong me, duke, and through me him whom you 
 pretend to love. I have stood his true friend and kept 
 this ruin at bay for months and months, when none other 
 could have done so. But this is the gratitude which one 
 must expect for the discharge of friendship's office. Poor 
 Adrien is taken from the world, you think, and it is of 
 course high time to remove from its false surface his 
 humble friend, Jasper Vermont." 
 
 "Friend !" said the duke. "Deadliest and most poison- 
 ous of foes I believe you to be. Begone, while you are 
 yet safe!" 
 
 "Begone, sir!" echoed the baron. "If I find you on 
 my grounds in an hour hence I will thrash you within an 
 inch of your life." 
 
 Jasper Vermont's face grew livid, and, with a clinch-
 
 Staunch of Heart. 199 
 
 ing of the hand that struck his carefully cut nails far into 
 his soft palms, he strode forward and confronted the 
 baron and the motley throng at his back. 
 
 "Your grounds, Baron Leroy! First tell me where I 
 shall find them! Your grounds! Ha, ha!" and he 
 laughed a quiet, sinister laugh. "You have no grounds, 
 not a single inch in which to hide your head. Barminster 
 Castle is in the hands of a money-lender ; these lands as 
 far as the eye can stretch are the property of Mr. Harker. 
 the Jewish capitalist. The very shoes in which you stand 
 are his property by right of countless bills and deeds 
 which your son, Adrien Leroy, has made over to him !" 
 
 Speechless amazement rendered every soul silent. 
 
 "Madman !" gasped the baron, clasping Constance, who 
 had fainted, to his heart. 
 
 "No, no !" laughed Mr. Vermont. "It is not I who am 
 the madman, but you, hoary-headed idiot, who trusted 
 your wealth to your boy-idiot before it was his by right ! 
 You should have waited until death had removed you 
 from the earth which you and yours have encumbered so 
 long ere you gave your beloved Adrien full power over 
 the kingly Barminster, for he, with kingly lavishness, has 
 melted every stone of it in the cup of pleasure and poured 
 out the costly draught at the feet of his parasites and flat- 
 terers. Look around you, my lord baron, and behold his 
 friends ! Friends ? leeches, rather, who have sucked him 
 dry of every precious golden drop. Look at them, dressed 
 like fools at a fair, look at them, and while you curse 
 them, one and all, as the causes of your ruin, call them 
 false friends and not me, who to the last will stand by 
 Adrien Leroy, spendthrift, forger and villain!" 
 
 As the vile words left his lips, the baron sprang at him. 
 
 But Mr. Jasper, not unprepared for such a result of his 
 savage invectives, darted behind a statue, and pointed to 
 the step, up which half a dozen men with every appear- 
 ance of sheriff's officers were hastily mounting. 
 
 "Here are the officer's men in possession, my lord, to 
 inform you of that which I would have broken to you 
 more quietly but for the hard words you were pleased to 
 bestow on me." 
 
 "Villain!" said the duke. "I knew this was some vile
 
 2OO 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 plot. You have had the management of the estate ; h is 
 you who have brought all this about." 
 
 Jasper smiled sardonically. 
 
 "Say rather, your grace, that it is I who have con- 
 tinually given warning of itagfjonfiscation. Ask Adrien 
 Leroy himself, if you still doTOt*fSg^hether I have not 
 constantly implored him to relinquish, to give up at least 
 some of his many ruinous pleasures, to deny himself at 
 least one extravagance." 
 
 "Lord Leroy, Baron of Barminster," said one of the 
 men, coming forward with his hat in his hand, and taking 
 no notice whatever of the maskers who thronging around 
 presented a startling scene. 
 
 "I am he," said the baron, hoarsely. 
 
 "A writ, my lord," said the man, "at the suit of John 
 Harker, of Basinghall Street, city. I beg your lordship 
 to understand that I am in possession of the castle, and 
 to issue orders that none of your friends leave the place 
 without being searched, to prevent the removal of valu- 
 ables." 
 
 A cry of indignant astonishment broke from the crowd, 
 which instantly surged forward, carrying to the front the 
 tall figure of the Cleopatra, whose domino had been torn 
 from her and who stood revealed in all her magnificence. 
 
 "Keep back," shouted the man. "No use, ladies and 
 gentlemen, our men are at all entrances. Quite im- 
 possible to pass. Keep back, please." 
 
 The crowd surged back, the men took up their position 
 right across the head of the staircase, and proceeded to 
 form a guard of exit, leaving a narrow passage through 
 which the guests were requested in all their costly finery 
 to pass in twos and threes. 
 
 The baron, stupefied beneath this last indignity, looked 
 around him with senseless eyes, his grasp of Constance 
 relaxed, and he sank on to one of the stone seats. 
 
 He was surrounded by such men as the marquis, Pom- 
 frey and Paxhorn immediately, while others ran after 
 the duke, who had hurried after Adrien. 
 
 Constance looked around with that fearful sense of im- 
 potence which overcomes one placed in such a position. 
 Then her eye caught Jasper Vermont's, where it looked
 
 Staunch of Heart. 201 
 
 down pitilessly from the balustrade. With a light, quick 
 step she sprang to his side and grasped his arms. 
 
 "Jasper Vermont," she breathed painfully, "this is 
 your work, I feel assured of it. You have some motive, 
 some object. Tell me, hj$re, before another passes, what 
 that object is, andrif.it be possible to satisfy it it shall be 
 satisfied. We are in your power, I believe, though you 
 would have us think otherwise. Speak quickly, and tell 
 me the price you exact for a release from it." 
 
 He looked at her beauty, heightened to a pitch which 
 it had never attained to ere that moment, and his eyes 
 flashed. 
 
 "Come aside," he said. 
 
 Constance hesitated for a moment, looked back at the 
 motionless figure of the baron, and then followed Jasper 
 Vermont into the shade. 
 
 "You ask the price I require for releasing my friend 
 from these ugly predicaments. How do you know that I 
 can relieve him? No, do not answer. I may be able 
 to do so, or I may not. If I were able I would require 
 as recompense for such service no less a gift than that of 
 Lady Constance's hand." 
 
 Constance clasped the stone balustrade and looked up 
 in his smooth and now sternly set face. She was no or- 
 dinary woman, and required only a moment to grasp the 
 whole string of facts and possibilities. To-night she had 
 discovered that she was capable of acts of which she had 
 until then thought herself utterly incapable. She could 
 love, and she could make a vast, noble sacrifice. For a 
 moment she turned her face to the direction in which' 
 her love had been led, then she put her hand upon Jas- 
 per's arm. 
 
 "You will save them both ?" she said. 
 
 "I will," he replied. "You agree to provide the re- 
 ward?" 
 
 "I do," she said ; then without another word she turned 
 from him and walked back to the baron. 
 
 Jasper Vermont stood for a moment as if powerless to 
 grasp the sense of his great, marvelous bliss, then with a 
 step that was for the first time tremulous and unsteady he 
 Came forward. As he did so the curtains at the back were
 
 2Q2 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 pushed aside, the numerous guests, who were being forced 
 in twos and threes through the line of sheriff's officers, 
 parted suddenly, and a thin, bent old man, dressed in a 
 well-worn black suit, and leading a young girl, whose 
 face, notwithstanding the olive hue, showed unmistakable 
 traces of that fell disease consumption stepped feebly 
 on to the terrace. 
 
 For a moment their presence seemed unnoticed, but 
 the next an exclamation broke from Jasper Vermont's 
 lips, and one of the officers looking up caught sight of the 
 old man, touched his hat and said : 
 
 "Is that you, Mr. Harker?" 
 
 No sooner had the name passed the man's lips than 
 every eye was turned upon the newcomer, and the baron, 
 rising, stood and confronted the person at whose suit he 
 had been arrested. 
 
 The old man looked around with his small, sharp eyes 
 until they rested on Jasper Vermont, then he raised his 
 arm and pointed at him. 
 
 "Mr. Jasper Vermont, I have come to resign my situ- 
 ation, and gain my freedom."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 "I'VE HAD MY REVENGE." 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont started at the old man*s words 
 and made as if he were about to wave him back, but his 
 hand dropped to his side again with the suddenness of 
 astonishment as Adrien Leroy's tall form towered behind 
 the bent one of the old man, and the duke, with flashing 
 eyes and compressed lips, took his place beside him. 
 
 The baron looked from one to the other; Lady Con- 
 stance raised her head, then stood motionless and pale as 
 a statue. 
 
 Mr. Harker looked around with his keen eyes and 
 seemed to read every face with a comprehensive glance ; 
 then, with a haughty, dry bow to the baron, he said: 
 
 "I am the Mr. Harker who has instituted these pro- 
 ceedings, my lord." 
 
 The baron opened his lips, but the old man, with a firm 
 but respectful gesture, continued before he could speak: 
 
 "I hold the bond which your son is charged with forg- 
 ing ; I, also, am the money-lender at whose suit this writ 
 on' your person and Barminster Castle has been issued. 
 You may wish to know your indignant scorn assures me 
 that you will insist upon knowing by what means I have 
 become possessed of this power. My lord, I am here to 
 give you the information." 
 
 With a dry cough he took from his breast a roll of 
 papers and approached one of the small tables which 
 stood on the terrace. 
 
 A breathless silence, broken only by the quick breath- 
 ing of the baron, fell on all. 
 
 The old man, with slow precision, unfastened the roll, 
 and looked around. 
 
 "Is Mr. Adrien Leroy here?" he asked. 
 
 "I am here," answered Adrien, coming forward and 
 standing beside the table with grave composure. 
 
 *
 
 204 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "This matter concerns you most nearly, sir," the old 
 man said. "I pray you give it your best attention." 
 
 Adrien inclined his head. 
 
 "I am listening," he said, raising his eyes to the old 
 man's face sternly, then turning them to Reah with a sad 
 but kind smile, where she stood by the old man's side 
 looking on the ground with an absorbed gaze. 
 
 "Five years ago," said Mr. Harker, "my master for 
 I am only a servant, a machine, acting under instructions 
 my master commanded me to purchase all the bills 
 bearing the signature of 'Adrien Leroy.' Furthermore I 
 received his instructions to lend money in any amount to 
 those who brought that same name as guarantee. I did 
 so, and every bill and liability which you contracted either 
 by your own or your father's name fell into the hands of 
 the man I represent. This man, my master, was your 
 friend, and by his matchless ingenuity and marvelous 
 cunning he turned your friendship and confidence to such 
 account that in a few months from the period of which I 
 speak he had acquired the unlimited command of your 
 immense revenue. All matters of business, every deed, 
 legal instrument, even the tradesmen's bills, passed 
 through his hands. So thoroughly did he gain your con- 
 fidence that you trusted him to an extent unparalleled in 
 the history of knaves and their dupes. That confidence 
 he abused. To how great an extent I alone can prove, 
 for I was his tool and slave, and held his secrets. Not a 
 bill was paid without his receiving his commission and 
 adding to its amount. 
 
 "He it was who lent the money to you and the friends 
 who procured the use of your name, and he it was who, 
 behind the screen which I supplied, gradually yet surely 
 drew you and hundreds of others into his net. What ob- 
 ject besides that of gain he had in view I know not, but it 
 is certain that nothing but your ruin, in wealth and honor, 
 would satisfy him, and accordingly I received instruc- 
 *ions to set about a scheme for its consummation. 
 
 "Among other bills we held was one presumably in- 
 dorsed by the Due de Rouen. That signature was a 
 forgery, a clever forgery in two senses of the word, for it 
 imitated the duke's and your own handwriting."
 
 Staunch of Heart. 205 
 
 Jasper Vermont, who had stood speechless with aston- 
 ishment up to this moment, here sprang forward, but Mr. 
 Harker looked toward the duke, who, scarcely waiting 
 for such an intimation, quietly seized Mr. Vermont's 
 arms and pinned him against the terrace. 
 
 Adrien Leroy, pale even to the lips, without taking his 
 eyes from the old man's face, said in a low, constrained 
 voice : 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "That double forgery was executed by my employer's 
 hand, and I received instructions to charge you, Mr. 
 Adrien Leroy, with the crime. The particular day fixed on 
 by my master as that on which you were supposed to have 
 perpetrated the fraud was one of which, for some reasons 
 involving another person's honor, you could give no ac- 
 count. Your carriage was seen at the door of my office ; 
 I was prepared to swear that you received the money into 
 your own hands, and on that day. Our evidence was 
 complete, and your dishonor was so far accomplished; 
 but at the forging of the last link in my master's chain 
 of villainy there comes the flaw. The poor servile tool 
 whom he had beneath the thumb, and trod under his feet, 
 suddenly regained then the freedom he had bartered for 
 an only child's sake. The terms of that contract he" 
 and he pointed his finger at the livid face of Jasper Ver- 
 mont "will for the sake of revenge, no doubt, speedih? 
 proclaim to the world. Their proclamation can have little 
 pain for those whom it concerns, for we have plucked up 
 courage to endure it manfully. My child and I, thank 
 Heaven, are freed from the chains, and were it not so I 
 could no longer see my soul drifting to perdition in this 
 man's service. So much for the scheme of ruin and dis- 
 honor. One point yet remains for me to explain, and that 
 is soon made clear. You will expect some proofs of my 
 assertions. I give them to you. My lord, this child was 
 found by my daughter and sheltered and succored by 
 her. She is a waif, and no one knows her history. That 
 given by the man Wilfer may be false, and concocted for 
 him by my master, whose accomplice, or rather tool, he 
 was. This much of it is true, that she fled from the man's 
 brutality, was succored by Mr. Leroy, and fled from his
 
 2o6 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 chambers and wandered about the streets until my daugh- 
 ter found her. Providence works in a mysterious way, 
 and ordered that the plotter should fall foul of his own 
 deep pits. This girl, on one of her wanderings one night, 
 was pushed roughly aside by his master as he left the thea- 
 ter. That night he dropped a roll of paper. That paper con- 
 tained not only the outline of his colossal schemes, written 
 m a cipher, but carefully scrawled imitations of the Due 
 de Rouen's signature. To that cipher I hold the key ; the 
 signatures speak for themselves. Read by the aid of that 
 cipher the whole plot is revealed. Read it, my lord, and 
 own that I have been justified in declaring that man"- 
 here with the same mechanical, dry gesture, he pointed to 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont "is the vilest miscreant breathing!" 
 
 With a cry of joy the baron grasped the paper, but was 
 too excited to read it, and stood looking around him with 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 Adrien Leroy looked up, very pale, and sought Con- 
 stance's face, but it was averted, and her trembling hands 
 were placed beyond his reach. 
 
 "I knew it!" cried the duke, with a short laugh of tri- 
 umph. "I knew we should catch the snake ! And now," 
 pinning Jasper still tighter to the wall, "what have you 
 to say to this, you Judas ?" 
 
 Mr. Jasper Vermont put up his fat hand and wiped the 
 perspiration from his brow, then laughed a dry, husky 
 laugh of defiance. 
 
 "Unhand me, you idiot," he muttered, wrenching him- 
 self from the duke's hand. "What do I say to it? I say 
 that it's all false, a prettily devised story to shield that old 
 rogue, whom I never saw until this hour who, no doubt, 
 was seen plundering my foolish friend and overshot the 
 mark. As to the paper bah ! it is worthy of a fabulist 
 and an idiot. What have I to do with plots and schemes ? 
 I know nothing of the paper or the bills, which I will be 
 sworn were manufactured and procured for the purpose. 
 I deny the whole statement emphatically ; I will call upon 
 the law to punish you, my lord duke, in company with this 
 old imposter, for your insolence. Your name is forged, 
 and forsooth to screen the criminal you must fix on me for 
 scapegoat ! If he is not the forger, if he was not at this
 
 Staunch of Heart. 207 
 
 old villain's office on the twenty-first, let him say where he 
 was on that day and that hour !" 
 
 He paused, glanced keenly at Adrien, whose brow 
 clouded and whose lips were silent, then looked around 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "You see," he said. ''Can any tiling disprove this old 
 man's story more conclusively than his silence? He can- 
 not say where he was on that day and hour." 
 
 "He cannot, but I can," said a voice, and from the back 
 of the excited spectators stepped forth Lady Eveline. Her 
 niask was in her hand and her face was deadly pale, but 
 courageously determined. 
 
 "I can say where he was. He was with me at Sunbury- 
 on-the-Thames." 
 
 A murmur of astonishment ran through the crowd. 
 
 "With you !" exclaimed the baron, in a low voice. 
 
 "With me," repeated Lady Eveline, smiling sadly at 
 Adrien's hand, which was raised to command her silence. 
 "With me. My lord, if a woman placed as I am placed 
 at this moment is worthy of belief, I would say that not- 
 withstanding such dark appearances, Lady Eveline's 
 honor is unsullied save by the breath of scandal, which 
 has given the idle folly of your son's flirtation with her a 
 sterner name. Be that as it may, however much I may 
 lose by the disclosure I have made, the fact is true and 
 can be proved. There stand two witnesses to it this poor 
 girl and this good woman." And she laid her hand upon 
 Reah's shoulder and looked beyond her to Lucy, who, 
 leaning on John's arm, was standing in the shadow of the 
 curtains. 
 
 Mr. Harker turned with surprise. 
 
 "Is that the lady who was brought to the cottage, 
 Lucy?" 
 
 Lucy's faintly breathed "Yes" was heard as distinctly 
 as a trumpet call, and seemed the signal for a general 
 loosening of tongues; in the midst of which Mr. Jasper 
 made a stealthy movement toward the back. 
 
 The duke with a gesture warned him to remain where 
 he was, and the baron, who had been standing with Con- 
 stance's hand in his, extended the other on his son's 
 shoulder.
 
 208 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "Have you no word for him?" he said* with an indica- 
 tion toward Jasper. 
 
 Adrian pressed his father's hand, and for the first time 
 turned to the latter. 
 
 "One word only," he said, and there seemed a dead 
 silence. "I would ask him for his motive ; I cannot be- 
 lieve that gain was the sole one. Some other object must 
 have inspired him with such deep designs. I ask him 
 to disclose it." 
 
 Jasper raised his eyes and bit his bloodless lips in 
 dogged silence. 
 
 "You are wasting your breath!" said a voice, and 
 Adrien, turning, found that Haidee, who had kept from 
 his sight until now, had stepped up to his side. 
 
 He started and turned away from her. 
 
 She laughed at his movement of repugnance and looked 
 around defiantly. 
 
 "You waste your breath uselessly with him," she said, 
 nodding at Jasper. "He's too tough a fox for you fine 
 hunters. I'm one of his own sort and know how to bring 
 him out. Jasper, my fine friend, you sold me as well as 
 our young swell, and I can cut up rougher than he does. 
 You've swindled me out of my thousand a year, and I'm 
 going to do what I threatened. You want to know what 
 his game was, do you?" she said, looking at Adrien. 
 "I'll tell you. He wanted your money and your sweet- 
 heart! What, that makes you start ! Ha, ha! What blind 
 folks some of you grand people are! Now I saw that 
 months ago, and, what's more, I saw it only half an 
 hour ago ask the lady herself if she didn't make it 
 plain as a pike-staff!" 
 
 Every eye was turned on Lady Constance, who looked 
 at Adrien beseechingly and clung closer to the baron, 
 whose eyes flashed fire. 
 
 "She don't deny it, you see; and it wouldn't be much 
 use, because I know it. That was the object, and to gain 
 it he didn't mind how many he sold me into the bar- 
 gain, but I was one too many, and now I can do my bit 
 in the way of splitting. You want to know who this girl 
 is?" And she laid her hand upon Reah's shoulder, who 
 shrank beneath her touch. "Well, I can tell you; that
 
 Staunch of Heart. 209 
 
 ruffian Wilfer was no more her uncle than I am not 
 so much, for I'm her aunt. I took her to Wilfer, and paid 
 for her keep, regularly and handsomely. She's got our 
 warm blood in her, and something more, as you can 
 see." And she nodded to the girl's consumptive, hectic 
 flush. "She takes after her mother, my sister Judith, 
 who thinks she's dead, and don't know that Mr. Jasper 
 Vermont, who was as ignorant as she is, was sharpening 
 the knife to cut his own throat. This Wilfer was under 
 his thumb, like a good many more, and was put up to 
 tell that ugly story of Adrien Leroy, by the cute Jasper. 
 Ha! ha! I've lost my money, perhaps, but I've had my 
 revenge, and that's as sweet to us as to finer folks. This 
 girl Reah, who finds the paper that tells all the tale, who 
 do you think she is, who was her father?" 
 
 She looked around with malicious eyes, but before an 
 answer could be given, if one had been forthcoming, a 
 cry of horror rang out upon the air and Reah was seen 
 to fling herself upon Adrien's breast. At the same mo- 
 ment something glittered in Mr. Jasper Vermont's hand, 
 there came a flash, a report, a scream of agony, and 
 Adrien held the lifeless form of the poor street waif. 
 
 In an instant all was confusion. 
 
 Jasper Vermont, with a cry of derision, had knocked 
 the duke aside and leaped to the balustrade. 
 
 "Seize him! Murder! Seize him!" yelled the crowd, 
 but 'Mr. Jasper had gained the coping, and turned for 
 one second to laugh derisively. 
 
 But the laugh died on his lips, for a voice that could 
 be heard above all the others, the shrill, vulgar voice of 
 Haidee, screamed: 
 
 "Jasper, you have murdered your own child!" 
 
 Those who were in pursuit saw him stagger; then as 
 the crowd parted, and he saw the motionless form of the 
 girl who had received the bullet he had intended for 
 Adrien Leroy, he gave one short, sharp cry like a wild 
 beast and shot himself through the heart, falling at the 
 very feet of the benefactor he had striven so hard to ruin 
 and betray.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 Two hours after, when all but a few of the crowd of 
 guests had left the stately castle, the sunlight streaming 
 through the latticed window of an upper chamber fell 
 upon the white-covered form of a young girl that lay 
 stretched in the last sleep upon the luxurious bed. Be- 
 side it knelt the stalwart figure of Adrien Leroy, his face 
 buried in one hand, the other resting upon the still one 
 that lay, white as marble, on the coverlet. 
 
 His costume of velvet and lace had been changed for a 
 robe of everyday life, and he had come straight from the 
 scene of the terrace to weep forth a passionate, remorse- 
 ful grief over the young life which had been shed so 
 generously fdr his. It mattered nothing to him that the 
 poor girl was the daughter of the man whom he had be- 
 friended and who had used his generosity as the means 
 by which to betray him, it mattered less than nothing that 
 his grief might be misconstrued by the hard, uncharita- 
 ble world. At the moment when the excitement was at 
 its highest pitch, and the fickle crowd were calling for 
 him, that they might fall down and worship their hero 
 with renewed enthusiasm, he knelt in the deepest humil- 
 ity by the dead girl's side, and while he implored the 
 pardon of the Highest and Most Merciful for the fol- 
 lies and sins of his past life, called upon the Almighty 
 to record the vows which he had made that for the fu- 
 ture his feet should walk in wiser paths and lead to a full 
 atonement for the wasteful past. 
 
 When he arose from his knees his face had lost all its 
 old self-possession ; there was a graver, more kindly and 
 earnest light in his eyes, and as his lips pressed the dead 
 hand of the devoted street waif they muttered a farewell 
 prayer which was never forgotten from that hour till his 
 last.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 211 
 
 In the library was seated in expectant silence the 
 baron, the Due de Rouen, Standon and Pomf rey ; a heap 
 of papers were lying on the table before them, conspicu- 
 ous among them that all-important roll in cipher which 
 Reah had so providentially discovered. They were 
 waiting for Adrien, and, knowing the cause of his ab- 
 sence, waited with patient respect until he thought fit 
 to leave the silent chamber. 
 
 Presently the door opened and he entered. 
 
 The baron held out his hand without a word, and 
 Adrien as silently grasped it, then with a sigh he sat 
 down at the table and prepared to learn to what a vast 
 extent his false friend had robbed him. 
 
 In silence the duke passed him paper after paper, all 
 drawn up in the legal round-hand of Mr. Harker, and 
 Adrien, with deep humiliation, examined them all. 
 
 With a sigh he dropped the last upon the table and 
 looked up. 
 
 "It is like some hideous dream," he said, in a low, 
 shocked tone. "Jasper Vermont then was not only a 
 traitor but a thief! Can I believe and yet, alas! how 
 can I doubt these proofs? that he descended so low in 
 the scale of degradation as to bribe a jockey to lose a 
 race? to set snares for those he called by the name of 
 friends, to coin trust and confidence into petty lucre, 
 to play the scoundrel for such paltry sums as these? 
 Great Heaven, to what depths of infamy will a man de- 
 scend when lust of gold and envy once enter his heart. 
 Deceived ! no man was ever so deceived as I have been ! 
 And to the last I believed him true, in spite of all warn- 
 ings, in spite of suspicious incidents which might have 
 opened the eyes of one not utterly blind. It is a bitter 
 lesson, and one I shall never forget. Duke, and all of 
 you, if I fail to thank you as I ought for all you have 
 done for me, it is because I am weighed down with re- 
 morse, begotten by the regret that I did not lend an ear 
 to your warnings. Let a man take heed of his self-con- 
 ceit lest he fall." 
 
 He dropped his head upon his hands as he finished, 
 and sighed. 
 
 The baron looked at him with a scrutinizing look.
 
 212 Staunch of Heart. 
 
 "You do not ask if the evil can be remedied, Adrien," 
 he said, in a softer tone than he had ever used to his 
 son; "you do not ask if any of this squandered money 
 can be regained?" 
 
 "I care not," said Adrien. "I am willing to pay the 
 penalty of my folly, so that all you have lost may be re- 
 stored, and that the old man Harker assured me of." 
 
 The baron stroked his beard. 
 
 "You care not if this treachery should leave you pen- 
 niless?" he asked. 
 
 Adrien raised his head with a mournful smile. 
 
 "But for one reason I am indifferent," he said. 
 
 The baron's eyes lit up. 
 
 "I know that reason. Your thought is for another. 
 Duke, tell him; I have no words left after all I have 
 suffered these last six hours." 
 
 The duke touched a small bell, and the bent form of 
 Mr. Harker entered. 
 
 Adrien looked up sadly. 
 
 "There are no more hideous revelations?" he asked 
 painfully. 
 
 "No, there is a more satisfactory one," said the duke. 
 
 Then turning to the old man, he said : 
 
 "Place Mr. Leroy in possession of the facts with which 
 you have made me acquainted, Mr. Harker." 
 
 The old man laid a small book upon the table. 
 
 "This will do so better than I can, gentlemen. It is an 
 elaborate account of the various investments in which 
 my late master placed his ill-gotten wealth. His expenses 
 were small, and the investments, which were made with 
 Mr, Leroy's money, amount to a large sum, gentlemen, 
 and when realized will cover the late Mr. Jasper Ver- 
 mont's enormous embezzlements." 
 
 Adrien took up the book and glanced at it. 
 
 "Is this true?" he said, with an earnestness which all 
 understood. "Am I still a rich man ?" 
 
 "The statement is correct, sir," said Mr. Harker, 
 "and you will find that you have actually benefited by my 
 master's cunning and astuteness." 
 
 Adrien Leroy laid the book on the table gravely. 
 
 "I am grateful," he said. "But I would leave this room
 
 Staunch of Heart. 213 
 
 penniless if by so doing I could bring one life back to 
 us." 
 
 Then, almost overcome by his emotions, he abruptly 
 left the room. 
 
 On the morrow the news was flying through the land. 
 
 Adrien Leroy, the well-beloved of Vanity Fair, had 
 been betrayed by his friend and confidant. Great was 
 the sensation when all the facts came out into the full 
 light, and it was known that Adrien had been saved by 
 the traitor's daughter, who had been shot by her father's 
 own hand. The most exaggerated reports were circu- 
 lated, and it was not until the double inquest that the 
 whole truth was known and the world for once was 
 called to look upon the summary punishment of vice. 
 
 Followed by the execrations of the world he had 
 duped and insulted, Jasper Vermont was carried to his 
 suicide's grave. 
 
 The day of his burial his accomplices, Haidee and 
 Judith Levison, fled from the country, which, now that 
 their characters stood fully revealed, would not tolerate 
 them. 
 
 The world, too, lost its fashionable monarch in Adrien 
 Leroy. The vow he registered beside the dead body of 
 the girl who had loved and died for him was kept as re- 
 ligiously as any made by the knights of old. He van- 
 ished silently from his place, and the gay and glittering 
 throng of pleasure-makers knew him no more. 
 
 For a time he traveled through wastes and wilds, liv- 
 ing the frugal, perilous life of the hunters and trappers, 
 never forgetting for a moment the lesson he had learned 
 in the hour of his betrayal, and striving with might and 
 main to bury the hollow, wicked past in a grave from 
 which he hoped to raise bright flowers of the future. 
 
 And he succeeded. 
 
 One day, three years after the death of Jasper Ver- 
 mont, an old white-haired man sat in the dining-room 
 of Barminster Castle. His eyes, which were no less 
 bright but far more gentle than when we saw him last, 
 were bent sometimes on the cheerful fire and sometimes 
 around to the beautiful face of his ward, Constance 
 Tremaine, where she stood against the deep embrasure 
 of the window looking out upon the snow.
 
 214 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 A book was in her hand, but it was closed, and the 
 wistful look in her sweet eyes showed that her thoughts 
 had flown from the page of fiction to the real world 
 that lay in the past. 
 
 Suddenly the baron raised his head. 
 
 "Constance, read me the letter that came from Lady 
 Ashford this morning. I should like to hear it again." 
 
 Constance took the letter from her pocket, but the 
 evening had grown too dark for her to decipher the char- 
 acters. 
 
 "I cannot see it, my lord; but I can remember it or 
 shall I ring for the lights?" 
 
 "No; I like the firelight. Tell me what they say." 
 
 "They say," said the sweet, musical voice, "that they 
 are well ; that Lucy is better than ever ; and that the little 
 boy the third now, my lord is as strong as a little lion. 
 Her father is weak and feeble, but cheerful and happy, 
 and lives only in the smiles and April tears of his grand- 
 children. They say that their simple prayer never as- 
 cends without our names, and they beg as a boon that 
 Adrien may be assured of their humble love and service.'' 
 
 "Is that all?" asked the baron. "They are all 
 happy " 
 
 "And prospering. Good, simple folks, their gratitude 
 shows out in every line, my lord, and not a sentence but 
 denotes how heartily and deeply they hold us in remem- 
 brance." 
 
 The baron nodded, with a good-natured, contented 
 smile. 
 
 "I am glad of it, Constance, glad of it. They are good 
 people, and deserve all the happiness they have got. Had 
 it not been for the old man, Adrien might have fallen into 
 the pit that fiend digged for him '* 
 
 "He is dead, my lord," murmured Constance. 
 
 "True, true," said the old man, " and has passed before 
 a more righteous and merciful judge than man." 
 
 Then he sighed. 
 
 "When does the mail come in, Constance?" 
 
 "To-night," answered Constance, with a sigh and a 
 sudden flush that made her more lovely while it lasted, and 
 left her paler when it had gone again.
 
 Staunch of Heart. 215 
 
 "To-night," said the old man, echoing her sigh. "And 
 we shall hear from him.' Constance, I am an old man, and 
 only one hope keeps the feeble breath in the feebler body. 
 You know what it is. He says no word of returning?" 
 
 "No," murmured Constance, averting her face. 
 
 The old man sighed. 
 
 "I yearn for him as the patriarch of old longed for his 
 well-beloved son. Constance, if I thought these eyes 
 would close forever ere they saw him again in life, I could 
 not die happy. Heaven send him soon !" 
 
 Constance's lips moved, but no sound came from them, 
 though they formed the word "Adrien." 
 
 "Always wandering," continued the old man. "Can he 
 never forget the past?" 
 
 "He will never come home till he does," said Constance. 
 "Has he not said so? and did he ever break his word?" 
 
 "No!" said the old man, with a sudden flash of pride. 
 "No, he will not come back until he can do so to take up a 
 new life and his love, Constance " 
 
 Constance had drawn farther back into the shadow, and 
 came forward with a quick, light step to his side. 
 
 "Let us have the lights, and ask if the mail is in." 
 
 Constance rang the bell, and stood with her soft, white 
 hand upon the old man's shoulder. 
 
 Very beautiful she looked in the bright gleam of the 
 firelight, more beautiful because more tender and womanly 
 than in the days of old, and the old man turned his grand, 
 .white-crowned face to look up at her. 
 
 "When he conies back, my child," he said, "he will find 
 a sweet prize " 
 
 "Hush!" she said, slipping her fingers to her lips, as 
 the door opened. "He may return but to cast it aside as 
 no prize, but an old toy long since wearied of." 
 
 "Never!" said the old man. "Adrien loved you, Con- 
 stance, and with him to love once is to love forever." 
 
 She turned with a sigh. 
 
 "Bring the lights," she said to the dim figure near the 
 door. 
 
 Instead of bowing and retreating, it came forward into 
 the twilight, and knelt down beside the old man's chair-
 
 216 'Staunch of Heart. 
 
 Constance uttered a low cry and grasped the high* 
 backed chair tightly. 
 
 The old man sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Adrien!" 
 
 "It is I," said the old musical voice. "Love can see its 
 own in a dimmer light than this, father. Constance, my 
 love, my eyes have pierced through the darkness of all 
 these weary years, and seen you night and day. I have 
 come into the light now, and to claim you for my own.* 
 
 As he spoke he drew her, nerveless and weeping, to his 
 breast, and in the firelight that threw fitful shadows on the 
 old oak walls the old man blessed them. 
 
 A week after the church near the cascade in the woods 
 was all ablaze with flowers and happy-cheeked children, 
 for it was the marriage day of Lady Constance and Adrien 
 Leroy. 
 
 There were no fashionable silks and satins, and no 
 mighty ecclesiastic performed the ceremony. The little 
 old rector made them man and wife, the baron gave the 
 beautiful bride away, and the duke, with two of the Ladies 
 de Rouen, sustained the characters of groomsman and 
 bridesmaids. 
 
 The ceremony over, during which the children, who 
 had growq to love their beautiful Lady Constance, sang 
 a bridal hymn, the small cortege left the church in a blaze 
 of sunlight overhead and a path of flowers beneath their 
 feet. 
 
 Happy was the bride that morning, and Adrien as he 
 felt her loved arm against his side grew full at heart with 
 gratitude and love. 
 
 "My darling," he murmured, "we do not want the 
 world, for you and I having each other's heart have all 
 the world could give us." 
 
 But happy Constance shook her head. 
 
 "Not to the world do I owe you, Adrien ; but to an- 
 other. But for her, life would have ended for both of us 
 that summer morning." 
 
 And as she spoke she turned aside and dcew him to a 
 simple grave, on which arose a plain marble cross. 
 
 Here a lady, who had witnessed the ceremony from a 
 dark corner of the church, and who had followed the
 
 Staunch of Hea<, t. 217 
 
 happy couple at a distance, as if anxious to see them to 
 the l|st moment they were in sight, saw the bride rever- 
 ently lay her bouquet of choice white flowers upon the 
 grave, and the bridegroom, raising his hat, as reverently 
 take a wreath from a bystander and place beside it. 
 
 When the procession had resumed its course, still tread- 
 ing on flowers, and accompanied by the cheering of the 
 villagers and children, Lady Eveline approached the 
 flower-decked grave, and, raising a corner of the wreath, 
 read this ample inscription, which it had partly hidden 
 "Reah." 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE HIRED BABY 
 
 A Romance of the London Streets 
 
 BY MARIE CORRELLI 
 
 *
 
 f
 
 THE HIRED BABY 
 
 A DARK, desolate December night a night that 
 clung to the metropolis like a wet black shroud a 
 night in which the heavy, low-hanging vapors melted 
 every now and then into a slow reluctant rain, cold 
 as icicle drops in a rock-cavern. Pefople passed and 
 repassed in the streets like ghosts in a bad dream; the 
 twinkling gas-light showed them at one moment rising 
 out of the fog and then disappearing from view as 
 though suddenly ingulfed in a vaporous ebon sea. 
 With muffled angry shrieks the metropolitan trains 
 deposited their shoals of shivering, coughing travelers 
 at the several stations, where sleepy officials, rendered 
 vicious by the weather, snatched the tickets from 
 their hands with offensive haste and roughness. Om- 
 ni-bus conductors grew ill-tempered and abusive with- 
 out any seemingly adequate reason; shopkeepers be- 
 came flippant, disobliging and careless of custom; 
 cabmen shouted derisive or denunciatory language 
 after their rapidly retreating fares; in short, every- 
 body was in a discontented, almost spiteful humor, 
 with the exception of those few aggressively cheerful 
 persons who are in the habit of always making the 
 best of everything, even bad weather. Down the 
 long wide vista of the Cromwell Road, Kensington, 
 the fog had it all its own way; it swept on steadily, 
 like thick smoke from a huge fire, choking the throats
 
 4 The Hired Baby 
 
 and blinding the eyes of foot-passengers, stealing 
 through the crannies of the houses, and chilling the 
 blood of even those luxurious individuals who, seated 
 in elegant drawing-rooms before blazing fires, easily 
 forgot that there were such bitter things as cold and 
 poverty in that outside world against which they had 
 barred their doors. At one house in particular a 
 house with gaudy glass doors and somewhat soiled 
 yellow silk curtains at the windows a house that 
 plainly said of itself "Done up for show!" to all 
 who cared to examine its exterior there stood a 
 closed brougham drawn by a prancing pair of fat 
 horses. A coachman of distinguished appearance sat 
 on the box; a footman of irreproachable figure stood 
 waiting on the pavement, his yellow-gloved hand 
 resting elegantly on the polished silver knob of the 
 carriage door. Both these gentlemen were resolute 
 and inflexible of face; they looked as if they had de- 
 termined on some great deed that should move the 
 world to wild applause but, truth to tell, they had 
 only just finished a highly satisfactory "meat- tea," 
 and before this grave silence had fallen upon them they 
 had been discussing the advisability of broiled steak 
 and onions for supper. The coachman had inclined to 
 plain mutton-chops as being easier of digestion; the 
 footman had earnestly asseverated his belief in the su- 
 perior succulence and sweetness of the steak and 
 onions, and in the end he had gained his point. This 
 weighty question being settled, they had gradually 
 grown reflective on the past, present, and future joys 
 of eating at some one else's expense, and in this bland 
 and pleasing state of meditation they were still ab- 
 sorbed. The horses were impatient and pawed the
 
 The Hired Baby 5 
 
 muddy ground with many a toss of their long manes 
 and tails, the steam from their glossy coats mingling 
 with the ever-thickening density of the fog. On the 
 white stone steps of the residence before which they 
 waited was an almost invisible bundle, apparently 
 shapeless and immovable. Neither of the two gor- 
 geous personages in livery observed it ; it was too far 
 back in a dim corner, too unobtrusive for the casual 
 regard of their lofty eyes. Suddenly the glass doors 
 before mentioned were thrown apart with a clattering 
 noise, a warmth and radiance from the entrance hall 
 thus displayed streamed into the foggy street, and at 
 the same instant the footman, still with grave and 
 imperturbable countenance, opened the brougham. 
 An elderly lady, richly dressed, with diamonds 
 sparkling in her gray hair, came rustling down the 
 steps, bringing with her faint odors of patchouli and 
 violet powder. She was followed by a girl of doll-like 
 prettiness with a snub nose and petulant little mouth, 
 who held up her satin and lace skirts with a sort of fas- 
 tidious disdain, as though she scorned to set foot on 
 earth that was not carpeted with the best velvet pile. 
 As they approached their carriage, the inert dark 
 bundle crouched in the corner started into life a 
 woman with wild hair and wilder eyes whose pale 
 lips q^ -ivered with suppressed weeping as her piteous 
 voice broke into sudden clamor: 
 
 " Oh, lady ! " she cried, " for the love of God a trifle! 
 Oh, lady, lady!" 
 
 But the "lady," witii a contemptuous sniff and a 
 shake of her scented garments, passed her before she 
 could continue her appeal, and she turned with a sort 
 of faint hope to the softer face of the girl.
 
 6 The Hired Baby 
 
 * 6 Oh, my dear, do have pity! Just the smallest 
 Httle thing, and God will bless you! You are rich 
 and happy and I am starving! Only a penny! 
 For the baby the poor little baby ! " and she made as 
 though she would open her tattered shawl and reveal 
 some treasure hidden therein, but shrunk back repelled 
 by the cold, merciless gaze that fell upon her from 
 those eyes in which youth dwelt without tenderness. 
 
 " You have no business on our doorstep," said the 
 g?rl, harshly. "Go away directly, or I shall tell my 
 SSrwant to call a policeman." 
 
 Then as she entered the brougham after her mother 
 IxlQ addressed the respectable footman angrily, giving 
 fatal the benefit of a strong nasal intonation. 
 
 " Howard, why do you let such dirty beggars come 
 near the carriage ? What are you paid for, I should like 
 ko %now? It is perfectly disgraceful to the house!" 
 
 "Very sorry, miss!" said the footman, gravely; "I 
 dida't see the the person before." Then shutting 
 the brougham door, he turned with a dignified air to 
 the unfortunate creature who still lingered near, and 
 with a sweeping gesture of his gold-embroidered coat- 
 sleeve, said majestically: 
 
 "Do you 'ear? Be hoff!" 
 
 Then having thus performed his duty, he mounted 
 the box beside his friend the coachman, and the equip- 
 age rattled quickly away, its gleaming lights soon lost 
 in the smoke-laden vapors that drooped downward like 
 funeral hangings from the invisible sky to the scarcely 
 visible ground. Left to herself, the woman who had 
 vainly sought charity from those in whom no charity 
 existed, looked up despairingly as one distraught, 
 and seemed as though she would have given vent to
 
 The Hired Baby 7 
 
 some fierce exclamation, when a feeble wafl came piti- 
 fully forth from the sheltering fold? of her shawl. 
 She restrained herself instantly and walked on at a 
 rapid pace, scarcely heeding whither she went, till 
 she reached the Catholic church known as the " Ora- 
 tory." Its unfinished facade loomed darkly out of the 
 fog; there was nothing picturesque or inviting about 
 it, yet there were people passing softly in and out, 
 and through the swinging to and fro of the red baize- 
 covered doors there came a comforting warm glimmer 
 of light. The woman paused, hesitated and then 
 having apparently made up her mind ascended ti. 
 broad steps, looked in and finally entered. The place 
 was strange to her she knew nothing of its religious 
 meaning, and its cold, uncompleted appearance op- 
 pressed her. There were only some half dozen per- 
 sons scattered about like black spots in its vast white 
 interior, and the fog hung heavily in the vaulted dome 
 and dark little chapels. One corner alone blazed 
 with brilliancy and color this was the Altar of the 
 Virgin. Toward it the tired vagrant made her way, 
 and on reaching it sunk on the nearest chair as though 
 exhausted. She did not raise her eyes to the mar- 
 ble splendors of the shrine one of the masterpieces 
 of old Italian art; she had been merely attracted to 
 the spot by the glitter of the lamps and candles, and 
 took no thought as to the reason of their being lighted, 
 though she was sensible of a certain comfort in the soft 
 luster shed around her. She seemed still young; her 
 face, rendered haggard by long and bitter privation, 
 showed traces of past beauty, and her eyes, full of fe- 
 verish trouble, were large, dark and still lustrous. 
 Her mouth alone that sensitive betrayer of the
 
 S The Hired Baby 
 
 Iife 9 s good and bad actions revealed that all had 
 pot been well with her; its lines were hard and vicious, 
 and the resentful curve of the upper lip spoke of fool- 
 ish pride not unmixed with reckless sensuality. She 
 eat for a minute or two motionless then with ex- 
 ceeding care and tenderness she began to unfold her 
 thin torn shawl by gentle degrees, looking down witb 
 anxious solicitude t the object concealed within it. 
 Only a baby and withal a baby so tiny and white 
 and frail that it seemed as though it must melt like a 
 snowflake beneath the lightest touch. As its wrap- 
 pings were loosened, it opened a pair of large, solemn 
 blue eyes and gazed at the woman's face with a strange 
 pitiful wistfulness. It lay quiet, without moan, a 
 pinched, pale miniature of suffering humanity an 
 infant with sorrow's mark painfully impressed upon 
 jts drawn small features. Presently it stretched forth 
 a puny hand and feebly caressed its protectress, and 
 this, too, with the faintest glimmer of a smile. The 
 woman responded to its affection with a sort of rap- 
 ture; she caught it fondly to her breast and covered 
 it with kisses, rocking it to and fro with broken wordi 
 of endearment. "My little darling!" she whispered t 
 softly. "My little pet! Yes, yes, I know! So tired v 
 so cold and hungry! Never mind, baby, never mind! 
 we mil rest here a little, then we will sing a song pres- 
 ently and get some money to take us home. Sleep 
 a while longer, dearie ! There ! now we are warm and 
 cosy again." 
 
 So saying, she rearranged her shawl in closer and 
 tighter folds so as to protect the child more thor- 
 oughly. While she was engaged in this operation, 
 a lady in deep mourning pissed close by her, and ad-
 
 The Hired Baby 9 
 
 vancing to the very steps of the altar, knelt down, 
 hiding her face with her clasped hands. The tired 
 wayfarer's attention was attracted by this ; she gazed 
 with a sort of dull wonder at the kneeling figure robed 
 in rich rustling silk and crape, and gradually her eyes 
 wandered upward, upward, till they rested on the 
 gravely sweet and serenely smiling marble image of 
 the Virgin and Child. She looked and looked again 
 surprised incredulous ; then suddenly rose to her 
 fe.et and made her way to the altar railing. There she 
 paused, staring vaguely at a basket of flowers, white 
 and odorous, that had been left there by some rever- 
 ent worshiper. She glanced doubtfully at the swing- 
 ing silver lamps, the twinkling candles; she was con- 
 scious, too, of a subtle strange fragrance in the air, 
 as though a basket full of spring violets and daffodils 
 had just been carried by; then, as her wandering gaze 
 came back to the solitary woman in black who still 
 knelt motionless near her, a sort of choking sensation 
 came into her throat and a stinging moisture strug- 
 gled in her eyes. She strove to turn this hysterical 
 sensation to a low laugh of disdain. 
 
 "Lord, Lord!" she muttered beneath her breath, 
 "what sort of place is this, where they pray to a 
 woman and a baby ? ' ' 
 
 At that moment the lady in black rose; she was 
 young, with a proud, fair, but weary face. Her eyes 
 lighted on her soiled and poverty-stricken sister, and 
 she paused with a pitying look. The street wanderer 
 made use of the opportunity thus offered, and in an 
 urgent whisper implored charity. The lady drew out 
 a purse, then hesitated, looking wistfully a -t the bundle 
 in the shawl.
 
 The Hired Baby 
 
 "You have a little child there?" she asked in gentle 
 accents. "May I see it?" 
 
 "Yes, lady;" and the wrapper was turned down 
 sufficiently to disclose the tiny white face, now more 
 infinitely touching than ever in the pathos of sleep. 
 
 "I lost my little one a week ago," said the lady, 
 simply, as she looked at it. "He was all I had.'' 
 Her voice trembled, she opened her purse and placed 
 i half crown in the hand of the astonished supplicant. 
 ''You are happier than I am; perhaps you will pray 
 Tor me! ^ am very lonely !" 
 
 Then dropping her long crape veil so that it com- 
 pletely hid her features, she bent her head and moved 
 softly away. The woman watched her till her grace- 
 ful figure was completely lost in the gloom of the great 
 church, and then turned again vaguely to the altar. 
 
 "Pray for her!" she thought. "I! As if I could 
 pray!" And she smiled bitterly. Again she looked 
 at the statue in the shrine; it had no meaning at all 
 for her. She had never heard of Christianity save 
 through the medium of a tract, whose consoling title 
 had been "Stop! You are going to Hell!" Religion 
 of every sort was mocked at by those among whom her 
 lot was cast, the name of Christ was only used as a 
 convenience to swear by, and therefore this mysteri- 
 ously smiling, gently inviting marble figure was in- 
 comprehensible to her mind. 
 
 " As if I could pray ! " she repeated with a sort of de- 
 rision. Then she looked at the broad silver coin in 
 her hand and the sleeping baby in her arms. With 
 a sudden impulse she dropped on her knees. 
 
 "Whoever you are," she muttered, addressm the 
 statue above her, "it seems you've got a child of you*
 
 -* The Hired Baby n 
 
 own; perhaps you'll help me to take care of this one. 
 It isn't mine; I wish it was! Anyway, I love it more 
 than its own mother does. I dare say you won't listen 
 to the likes of me, but if there was God anywhere about 
 I'd ask Him to bless that good soul that's lost her baby. 
 I bless her with all my heart, but my blessing ain't 
 good for much. Ah!" and she surveyed anew the 
 Virgin's serene white countenance, "you just look as 
 if you understood me, but I don't believe you do! 
 Never mind, I've said all I wanted to say this time." 
 Her strange petition or rather discourse concluded, 
 she rose and walked away. The great doors of the 
 church swung heavily behind her as she stepped out 
 and stood once more in the muddy street. It was 
 raining steadily a fine, cold, penetrating rain. 
 But the coin she held was a talisman against outer 
 discomforts, and she continued to walk on till she 
 came to a clean-looking dairy, where for a couple of 
 pence she was able to replenish the infant's long ago 
 emptied feeding-bottle; but she purchased nothing 
 for herself. She had starved all day and was now 
 too" faint to eat. Soon she entered an omnibus and 
 was driven to 'Charing Cross, and alighting at the 
 great station, brilliant with its electric light, she paced 
 up and down outside it, accosting several of the pass- 
 ers-by and imploring their pity. One man gave her 
 a penny; another, young and handsome, with a 
 flushed, intemperate face and a look of his fast-fad- 
 ing boyhood still about him, put his hand in his pocket 
 and drew out all the loose coppers it contained, 
 amounting to three pennies and an odd farthing, and 
 dropping them into tier outstretched oalm. said half 
 gaily, half boldly
 
 '12 i'ne Hired Baby 
 
 " You ought to do better than that with those big 
 eyes of yours!" She drew back and shuddered; he 
 broke into a coarse laugh and went/ his way. Stand- 
 ing where he had left her, she seemed for a time lost 
 in wretched reflections, the fretful wailing cry of the 
 child she carried roused her, and hushing^it softly, she 
 murmured: " Yes, yes, darling, it is too wet and cold 
 for you; we had better go." And acting suddenly on 
 her resolve, she hailed another omnibus, this time 
 bound for Tottenham Court Road, and was, after 
 some dreary jolting, set down at her final destination 
 a dirty alley in the worst part of Seven Dials. En- 
 tering it, she was hailed with a shout of derisive laugh- 
 ter from some rough-looking men and women, who 
 were standing grouped round a low gin-shop at the 
 corner. 
 
 "Here's Liz!" cried one. "Here's Liz and the 
 bloomin' kid!" 
 
 "Now, old gel, fork out! How much 'ave yer got, 
 Liz? Treat us to a drop all round!" 
 
 Liz walked past them steadily; the conspicuous 
 curve of her upper lip came into full play and her eyes 
 flashed disdainfully, but she said nothing. Her 
 silence exasperated a tangle-haired, cat-faced girl of 
 some seventeen years, who, more than half drunk, sat 
 on the ground clasping her knees with both arms, and 
 rocking herself lazily to and fro. 
 
 "Mother Mawks!" cried she, "Mother Mawks! 
 You're wanted! Here's Liz come back with you 
 babby!" 
 
 As if her words had been a powerful incantation to 
 summon forth an evil spirit, a door in one of the miser- 
 able houses was thrown open, and a stout
 
 The Hired Baby 13 
 
 nearly naked to the waist, with a swollen, blotched 
 and most hideous countenance, rushed out furiously, 
 and darting at Liz, shook her violently by the arm. 
 
 "Where's my shullin'?" she yelled, "where's my 
 gin? Out with it! Out with my shullin' and four- 
 pence! None of your sneakin' ways with me; a bar- 
 gain's a bargain all the world over! You're makin' 
 a fortin' with my babby yer know y'are; pays yer 
 a deal better than yer old trade ! Don't say it don't 
 yer knows it do. Yer'll not find such a sickly kid 
 anywheres, an' it's the sickly kids wot pays an' moves 
 the 'arts of the kyind ladies and good gentlemen " 
 this with an imitative whine that excited the laughter 
 and applause of her hearers. " You've got it cheap, 
 I kin tell yer, an' if yer don't pay up reg'lar, there's 
 others that'll take the chance, and thankful too!" 
 
 She stopped for lack of breath, and Liz spoke 
 quietly : 
 
 "It's all right, Mother Mawks," she said, with an 
 attempt at a smile; "here's your shilling, here's the 
 four pennies for the gin. I don't owe you anything 
 for 'the child now." She stopped and hesitated, 
 looking down tenderly at the frail creature in her 
 arms, then added almost pleadingly, "It's asleep 
 now. May I take it with me tonight?" 
 
 Mother Mawks, who had been testing the coins Liz 
 bad given her by biting them ferociously with her 
 jarge yellow teeth, broke into a loud laugh. 
 
 "Take it with yer! I like that! Wot imperence! 
 Take it with yer!" Then, with her huge red arms 
 akimbo, she added, with a grin, " Tell yer wot, if yer 
 likes to pay me 'arf a crown, yer can 'ave it to cuddle 
 an' welcome!"
 
 14 The Hired Baby 
 
 Another shout of approving merriment burst from 
 the drink-soddened spectators of the little scene, and 
 the girl crouched on the ground, removed her encir- 
 cling hands from her knees to clap them loudly, as she 
 exclaimed: 
 
 "Well done, Mother Mawks! One doesn't let out 
 kids at night for nothing! "Fought to be more ex- 
 pensive tlian daytime!" 
 
 The face of Liz had grown white and rigid. 
 
 " Yoii know I can't give you that money," she said, 
 slowly. "I have not tasted bit or drop all day. I 
 must live, though it doesn't seem worth while. The 
 child," and her voice softened involuntarily, "is fast 
 asleep; it's a pity to wake it, that's all. It will cry 
 and fret all night, and and I would make it warm 
 and comfortable if you'd let me." She raised her 
 eyes hopefully and anxiously, "Will you?" 
 
 Mother Mawks was evidently a lady of an excitable 
 disposition. The simple 1'equest seemed to drive her 
 nearly frantic. She raised her voice to an absolute 
 scream, thrusting her dirty hands through her still 
 dirtier hair as the proper accompanying gesture to her 
 vituperative oratory. 
 
 "Will I! Will I!" she screeched. "Will I let out 
 my hown baby for the night for nothing? Will I? 
 No, I won't! I'll see yer blowed into the middle of 
 next week fust! Lor' a'niussey! 'ow 'igh an' mighty 
 we are gittin', to be sure ! The babby'll be quiet with ( 
 you, Miss Liz; will it, hindeed! An' it will cry an' fret 
 with its hown mother, will it, hindeed!" And at 
 every sentence she approached Liz more nearly, in- 
 creasing in fury as she advanced. "Yer low hussy 1 
 D'ye think I'd let yer 'ave my babby for a hour ua-
 
 The Hired Baby 15 
 
 less yer paid for't? As it is, yer pays far too little. 
 I'm an honest woman as works for my livin' an' wot 
 drinks reasonable, better than you by a long sight, 
 with your stuck-up airs ! A pretty drab you are ! Gi* 
 me the babby; ye an't no business to keep it a mini! 
 longer;" and she made a grab at Liz's sheltering 
 shawl. 
 
 "Oh, don't hurt it!" pleaded Liz, tremblingly 
 "Such a little thing; don't hurt it!" 
 
 Mother Mawks stared so wildly that her blood-shot 
 eyes seemed protruding from her head. 
 
 " 'Urt it! Hain't I a right to do wot I likes with 
 my hown babby! 'Urt it! Well, I never! Look 
 'ere!" and she turned round on the assembled neigh- 
 bors. " Hain't she a reg'lar one! She don't care for 
 the law, not she ! She's keepin' back a child from its 
 hown mother!" And with that she made a fierce at- 
 tack on the shawl and succeeded in dragging the infant 
 from Liz's reluctant arms. Wakened thus roughly 
 from its slumbers, the poor mite set up a feeble wail- 
 ing; its mother, enraged at the sound, shook it vio- 
 lently till it gasped for breath. 
 
 " Drat the little beast ! " she cried. " Why don't it 
 thoke an' 'ave done with it!" 
 
 And without heeding the terrified remonstrances 
 of Liz, she flung the child roughly, as though it were 
 a ball, through the open door of her lodgings, where 
 it fell on a heap of dirty clothes, and lay motionless; 
 its wailing had ceased. 
 
 "Oh, baby, baby!" exclaimed Liz, in accents of 
 poignant distress. "Oh! you hr^-e killed it, I am 
 sure I Oh, you are cruel, cruel! Oh, baby, baby!" 
 
 And she broke int^ a tempestuous passion of sobs
 
 16 The Hired Baby 
 
 and tears. The by-standers looked on in unmoved 
 silence. Mother Mawks gathered her torn garments 
 round her with a gesture of defiance, and sniffed the 
 air as though she said, " Any one who wants to med- 
 dle with me will get the worst of it." There was a 
 brief pause; suddenly a man staggered out of the gin- 
 shop, smearing the back of his hand across his mouth 
 as he came; a massively built, ill-favored brute with 
 a shock of uncombed red hair and small, ferret-like 
 eyes. He stared stupidly at the weeping Liz, then at 
 Mother Mawks, finally from one to the other of the 
 loafers who stood by. "Wot's the row?" he de- 
 manded, thickly, "Wot's up? 'Ave it out fair! Joe 
 Mawks'll stand by an' see fair game. Fire away, my 
 hearties! fire, fire away!" And with a chuckling 
 idiot laugh he dived into the pocket of his torn cor- 
 duroy trousers and produced a pipe. Filling this 
 leisurely from a greasy pouch, with such unsteady fin- 
 gers that the tobacco dropped all over him, he lighted 
 it, repeating with increased thickness of utteiance 
 "Wot's the row! ; Ave it out fair!" 
 
 "It's about your babby, Joe!" cried the girl befo e 
 mentioned, jumping up from her seat on the ground 
 with such force that her hair came tumbling all about 
 her in a dark, dank mist through which her thin, 
 eager face spitefully peered. "Liz has gone crazy! 
 She wants your babby to cuddle ! ' ' And she screamed 
 with sudden laughter, "Eh, eh! fency! Wants a 
 babby to cuddle." 
 
 The stupefied Joe blinked drowsily and sucked the 
 stem of his pipe with apparent relish. Then, as if he 
 had been engaged in deep meditation on the subject. 
 he removed his smoky consoler from his mouth, and
 
 The Hired Baby 17 
 
 said, "W'y not? Wants a babby to cuddle? All 
 right! Let 'er 'ave it w'y not?" 
 
 At these words Liz looked up hopefully through her 
 tears, but Mother Mawks darted forward in raving 
 indignation. 
 
 "Yer great drunken fool!" she yelled, to her be- 
 sotted spouse, "aren't yer ashamed of yerself ? Wot! 
 Let out yer babby for a whole night for nuthin' ? It's 
 lucky I've got my wits about me; an' I say Liz sha'n't 
 'ave it! There now!" 
 
 The man looked at her and a dogged resolution 
 darkened his repulsive countenance. He raised his 
 big fist, clinched it, and hit straight out, giving his in- 
 furiated wife a black eye in much less than a minute. 
 "An' I say she shall 'ave it! Where are ye now?" 
 
 In answer to the query Mother Mawks might have 
 said that she was "all there," for she returned her hus- 
 band's blow with interest and force, and in a couple of 
 seconds the happy pair were engaged in a "stand-up" 
 fight, to the intense admiration and excitement of all 
 the inhabitants of the little alley. Every one in the 
 place thronged to watch the combatants and to hear 
 the blasphemous oaths and curses with which the bat- 
 tle was accompanied. 
 
 In the midst of the affray, a wizened, bent old man, 
 who had been sitting at his door sorting rags in a 
 basket, and apparently taking no heed of the clamor 
 around him, made a sign to Liz. 
 
 "Take the kid now," he whispered. "Nobody'll 
 notice. I'll see they don't cry arter ye." Liz 
 thanked him mutely by a look, and rushing to the 
 house where the child still lay, seemingly inanimate, 
 on the floor among the soiled clothes, she caught it up
 
 l8 The Hired Baby 
 
 eagerly and hurried away to her own poor garret in a 
 tumble-down tenement at the furthest end of the 
 alley. The infant had been stunned by its fall, but 
 under her tender care, and rocked in the warmth of 
 her caressing arms, it soon recovered though when 
 its blue eyes opened they were full of a bewildered 
 pain such as may be seen in the eyes of a shot bird. 
 
 "My pet! my poor little darling!" she murmured 
 over and over again, kissing its wee white face and 
 soft hands; " I wish I was your mother Lord knows 
 I do! As it is you're all I've got to care for. And 
 you do love me, baby, ^ion't you? just a little, little 
 bit!" And as she renewed her fondling embraces, 
 the tiny, sad-visaged creature uttered a low crooning 
 sound of baby satisfaction in response to her endear- 
 ments a sound more sweet to her ears than the 
 most exquisite music, and which brought a smile to 
 her mouth and a pathos to her dark eyes, rendering 
 her face for the moment almost beautiful. Holding 
 the child closely to her breast, she looked cautiously 
 out of her narrow window, and perceived that the 
 connubial fight was over. From the shouts of laugh- 
 ter and plaudits that reached her ears Joe Mawks had 
 evidently won the day; his wife had disappeared from 
 the field. She saw the little crowd dispersing, most 
 of those who composed it entering the gin-shop, and 
 very soon the alley was comparatively quiet and de- 
 serted. By and by she heard her name called in a low 
 voice: "Liz! Liz!" 
 
 She looked down and saw the old man who had 
 promised her his protection in case Mother Mawks 
 should persecute her. "Is that you, Jim? Come up- 
 ftairs, it's better than talking out there." He obeyed.
 
 The HiredJBaby 19 
 
 and stood before her in the wretched room, looking 
 curiously both at her and the baby. A wiry, wolfish- 
 faced being was Jim Duds, as he was familiarly called, 
 though his own name was the aristocratic and singu- 
 larly inappropriate one of James Douglas; he was 
 more like an animal than a human creature, with his 
 straggling gray hair, bushy beard, and sharp teeth 
 protruding like fangs from beneath his upper lip. 
 His profession was that of an area-thief, and he con- 
 sidered it a sufficiently respectable calling. 
 
 "Mother Mawks has got it this time," he said, with 
 a grin, which was more like a snarl. "Joe's blood 
 was up and he pounded her nigh into a jelly. She'll 
 leave ye quiet now; so long as ye pay the hire reg'lar 
 ye'll have Joe on yer side. If so be as there's a bad 
 day, ye'd better not come home at all." 
 
 "I know," said Liz, "but she's always had the 
 money for the child, and surely it wasn't much to ask 
 her to let me keep it warm on such a cold night as 
 this." 
 
 Jim Duds looked meditative. "Wot makes yer 
 Rare for that babby so much?" he asked. " 'Taint 
 your'n." 
 
 Liz sighed. 
 
 "No!" she said, sadly. "That's true. But it 
 seems something to hold on to like. See what my 
 life has been!" She stopped, and a wave of color 
 flushed her pallid features. " From a little girl, noth- 
 ing but the streets the long cruel streets! and I 
 just a bit of dirt on the pavement no more; flung 
 here, flung there, and at last swept into the gutter. 
 All dark all useless!" She laughed a little. "Fan, 
 cy, Jim! I've never seen the country!"
 
 fcO The Hired Baby 
 
 i 
 
 " Nor I," said Jim, biting a piece of straw reflect* 
 ively. "It must be powerful fine, with naught but 
 green trees an' posies a-blowin' an' a-growin' every- 
 jrfieres. There ain't many kitching areas there, 
 though, I'm told." 
 
 Liz went on, scarcely heeding him: "The baby 
 seems to me like what the country must be all 
 harmless and sweet and quiet; when I hold it so, my 
 heart gets peaceful somehow I don't know why." 
 
 Again Jim looked speculative . He waved his bitten 
 straw expressively. 
 
 " Ye've had 'sperience, Liz. Hain't ye met no man 
 like, wot ye could care fur?" 
 
 Liz trembled and her eyes grew wild. 
 
 "Men!" she cried with bitterest scorn "no men 
 Ifaave come my way, only brutes!" 
 
 Jim stared, but was silent; he had no fit answer 
 /eady. Presently Liz spoke again more softly: 
 
 "Jim. do you know I went into a great church to- 
 day?" 
 
 * Worse luck!" said Jim, sententiously. "Church 
 Ain't no use nohow as fur as I can see." 
 
 "There was a figure there, Jim," went on Liz, 
 earnestly, "of a v Woman holding up a Baby, and peo- 
 ple knelt down before it. What do you s'pose it 
 
 "Can't say!" replied the puzzled Jim. "Are ye 
 sun 'twas a church? Most like 'twas a moo'seum." 
 
 "No, no!" said Liz. " 'Twas a church for certain; 
 there were folks praying in it." 
 
 l> Ah, well!" growled Jim, gruffly, "much goo<J 
 may it do 'em! I'm not of the prayin' sort. A 
 wcnnan an' a babby, did ye say? Don't ye get suck
 
 The Hired Baby 21 
 
 cranky notions into yer bead, Liz ! Women an" bab- 
 bies are common enough too common by a long 
 thalk, an' as for prayin' to 'em " Jim's utter con- 
 tempt and incredulity were too great for further ex- 
 pression, and he turned away, wishing her a curt 
 "Good-night!" 
 
 "Good-night!" said Liz, softly, and long after he 
 had left her, she still sat silent, thinking, thinking, 
 with the baby asleep in her arms, listening to the rain 
 as it dripped, dripped heavily, like clods falling on a 
 coffin-lid. She was not a good woman far from it. 
 Her very motive in hiring the infant at so much a day 
 was entirely inexcusable it was simply to gain 
 money upon false pretenses, by exciting more pity 
 than would otherwise have been bestowed on her 
 had she begged for herself alone, without a child in 
 her arms. At first she had carried the baby about to 
 serve as a mere trick of her trade, but the warm feel of 
 its little helpless body against her bosom day after 
 day had softened her heart toward its innocence and 
 pitiful weakness, and at last she had grown to love it, 
 with a strange, intense passion so much that she 
 would willingly have sacrificed her life for its sake. 
 She knew that its own parents cared nothing for it, 
 except for the money it brought them through her 
 hands, and often wild plans would form in her poor 
 tired brain plans of running away with it alto- 
 gether from the roaring, devouring city, to some 
 sweet, humble country village, there to obtain work, 
 and devote herself to making this little child happy. 
 Poor Liz! Poor, bewildered, heart-broken Liz. Ig- 
 norant London heathen as she was, 'here was one fra- 
 grant flower blossoming in the desert of her soiled and
 
 22 The Hired Baby 
 
 wasted existence the flower of a pure and guileless 
 .love for one of those "little ones" of whom it hath 
 been said by an All-Pitying Divinity unknown to her: 
 "Suffer them to come unto Me, and forbid them not, 
 for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." 
 
 The dreary winter days crept on apace, and as they 
 drew near Christmas, dwellers in the streets leading 
 off the Strand grew accustomed of nights to hear the 
 plaintive voice of a woman singing in a peculiarly 
 thrilling and pathetic manner some of the old songs 
 and ballads familiar and dear to the heart of every 
 Englishman "The Banks of Allan Water," "The 
 Bailiff's Daughter," "Sally in our Alley," "The Last 
 Rose of Summer," all these well-loved ditties she sung 
 one after the other, and though her notes were neithei 
 fresh nor powerful, they were true and often tender, 
 more particularly in the hackneyed but still capti- 
 vating melody of "Home, Sweet Home." Windows 
 were opened and pennies freely showered on the street- 
 vocalist, who was accompanied in all her wanderings 
 by a fragile infant, which she seemed to carry with 
 especial care and tenderness. Sometimes, too, in the 
 bleak afternoons, she would be seen wending aer way 
 through mud and mire, setting her weary face against 
 the bitter east wind, and patiently singing on and 
 motherly women coming from the gay shops and stores 
 where they had been purchasing Christmas toys for 
 their own children would often stop to look at the 
 baby's pinched white features with pity, and would 
 say, while giving their spare pennies, "Poor little 
 thing! Is it not very ill? " And Liz, her heart freez- 
 ing with sudden terror, would exclaim hurriedly, 
 44 Oh, no, no! It is always pale; it is just a little bit
 
 The Hired Baby 23 
 
 weak, that's all!" And the kindly questioners, 
 touched by the large despair of her dark eyes, would 
 pass on and say no more. And Christmas came 
 the birthday of the Child-Christ a feast, the sacred 
 meaning of which was unknown to Liz ; she only rec- 
 ognized it as a sort of large and somewhat dull bank- 
 holiday, when all London devoted itself to church- 
 going and the eating of roast beef and plum, 1 pudding. 
 The whole thing was incomprehensible to her mind, 
 but even her sad countenance was brighter than usual 
 en Christmas eve, and she felt almost gay, for had she 
 not, by means of a little extra starvation on her own 
 part, been able to buy a wondrous gold and crimson 
 worsted bird suspended from an elastic string, a bird 
 which bobbed up and down to command in the most 
 lively and artistic manner? And had not her hired 
 baby actually laughed at the clumsy toy? laughed an 
 elfish and weird laugh, the first it had ever indulged 
 in? And Liz had laughed too, for pure gladness in 
 the child's mirth, and the worsted bird became a sort 
 of uncouth charm to make them both merry. 
 
 But after Christmas had come and gone, and the 
 melancholy days, the last beating of the failing pulse 
 of the Old Year throbbed slowly and heavily away, 
 the baby took upon its wan visage a strange expres- 
 sion the solemn expression of worn-out and suffer- 
 ing age. Its blue eyes grew more solemnly specu- 
 lative and dreamy, and after a while it seemed to lose 
 all taste for the petty things of this world and the low 
 desires of mere humanity. It lay very quiet in Liz's 
 arms; it never cried, and was no longer fretful, and it 
 Seemed to listen with a sort of mild approval to the 
 tones *f her voice as they rang out in the dreary
 
 24 The Hired Baby 
 
 streets through which, by day and night, she pa- 
 tiently wandered. By and by the worsted bird, too, 
 fell out of favor; it jumped and glittered in vain; the 
 baby surveyed it with an unmoved air of superior wis- 
 dom, just as if it had suddenly found out what real 
 birds were like, and was not to be deceived into ac- 
 cepting so poor an imitation of nature. Liz grew 
 uneasy, but she had no one in whom to confide her 
 fears. She had been very regular in her payments to 
 Mother Mawks, and that irate lady, kept in order by 
 her bull-dog of a husband, had been of late very con- 
 tented to let her have the child without further inter- 
 ference. Liz knew well enough that no one in the mis- 
 erable alley where she dwelt would care whether the 
 baby were ill or not. They would tell her, " the more 
 sickly the better for your trade." Besides, she was 
 jealous she could not endure the idea of any one 
 touching or tending it but herself. Children were 
 often ailing, she thought, and if left to themselves 
 without doctor's stuff they recovered sometimes more 
 quickly than they had sickened. Thus soothing her 
 inward tremors as best she might, she took more care 
 than ever of her frail charge, stinting herself that she 
 might nourish it, though the baby seemed to care less 
 and less for mundane necessities, and only submitted 
 to be fed, as it were, under patient and silent protest. 
 And so the sands in Time's hour-glass ran slowly 
 but surely away, and it was New Year's eve. Liz had 
 wandered about all day singing her little repertoire of 
 ballads in the teeth of a cruel, snow-laden wind so 
 cruel, that people, otherwise charitably disposed, had 
 shut close their doors and windows, and had not even 
 beard her voice. Thus the last span of the Old Year
 
 The Hired Baby 25 
 
 had proved most unprofitable and dreary; she had 
 gained no more than sixpence; how could she return 
 with only that humble amount to face Mother Mawks 
 and her vituperative fury? Her throat ached she 
 was very tired, and as the night darkened from pale 
 to deep and starless shadows, she strolled mechan- 
 ically from the Strand to the Embankment, and after 
 walking some little distance she sat down in a corner 
 close to Cleopatra's Needle that mocking obelisk 
 that has looked upon the decay of empires, itself im- 
 passive, and that still appears to say, "Pass on, ye 
 puny generations! I, a mere carven block of stone, 
 shall outlive you all!" For the first time in all her 
 experience the child in her arms seemed a heavy bur- 
 den. She put aside her shawl and surveyed it ten, 
 derly; it was fast asleep, a small, peaceful smile on 
 Its thin, quiet face. Thoroughly worn out herself, 
 she leaned her head against the damp stone wall be- 
 hind her, and clasping the infant tightly to her breast, 
 she also slept the heavy, dreamless sleep of utter 
 fatigue and physical exhaustion. The solemn night 
 mpved on, a night of black vapors; the pageant of the 
 Old Year's death-bed was unbrightened by so much 
 as a single star. None of the hurrying passers-by 
 perceived the weary woman where she slept in that 
 obscure corner, and for a long while she rested there 
 undisturbed. Suddenly a vivid glare of light dazzled 
 her eyes; she started to her feet half asleep, but still 
 instinctively retaining the infant in her close embrace. 
 A dark form, buttoned to the throat, and holding a 
 brilliant bull's-eye lantern, stood before her. 
 
 "Come, now," said this personage, "this won't dot 
 Move on!"
 
 20 The Hired Baby \ 
 
 Liz smiled faintly and apologetically. 
 
 "All right!" she answered, striving to speak cheer- 
 fully and raising her eyes to the policeman's good- 
 natured countenance, "I didn't mean to fall asleep 
 here. I don't know how I came to do it. I must go 
 home, of course." 
 
 "O/ course!" said the policeman, somewhat molli- 
 fied by her evident humility, and touched in spite of 
 himself by the pathos of her eyes. Then turning his 
 lamp more fully upon her, he continued, "Is that a 
 baby you've got there?" 
 
 " Yes," said Liz, half proudly, half tenderly. "Poor 
 little dear! it's been ailing sadly but I think it's 
 better now than it was." 
 
 And, encouraged by his friendly tone, she opened 
 the folds of her shawl to show him her one treasure. 
 The bull's-eye came into still closer requisition, as the 
 kindly guardian of the peace peered inquiringly at 
 the tiny bundle. He had scarcely looked when he 
 started back with an exclamation: 
 
 "God bless my soul" he cried, "it's dead!" 
 
 "Dead!" shrieked Liz, "oh, no, no! Not dead! 
 Don't say so, oh, don't, don't say so! Oh, you can't 
 mean it! Oh, for God's love say you didn't mean it! 
 It can't be dead, not really dead no, no, indeed! 
 Oh, baby, baby! You are not dead, my pet, my an- 
 gel, not dead, oh, no!" 
 
 And breathless, frantic with fear, she felt the little 
 thing's hands and feet and face, kissed it wildly and 
 called it by a thousand endearing names, in vain 
 in vain! Its tiny body was already stiff and rigid; it 
 had been a corpse more than two hours. 
 
 The policeman coughed, and brushed his thick
 
 The Hired Baby 27 
 
 gauntlet glove across his eyes. He was an emissary 
 of the law, but he had a heart. He thought of his 
 bright-eyed wife at home, and of the soft-cheeked 
 cuddling little creature that clung to her bosom and 
 crowed with rapture whenever he came near. 
 
 "Look here," he said, very gently, laying one hand 
 on the woman's shoulder as she crouched shivering 
 against the wall and staring piteously at the motion- 
 less waxen form in her arms, "it's no use fretting 
 about it." He paused there was an uncomfort- 
 able lump in his throat and he had to cough again to 
 get it down. "The poor little creature's gone 
 there's no help for it. The next world's a better 
 place than this, you know! There, there! don't take 
 on so about it " this as Liz shuddered and sighed 
 a sigh of such complete despair that it went straight 
 to his honest soul and showed him how futile were his 
 efforts at consolation. But he had his duty to attend 
 to, and he went on in firmer tones: "Now, like a 
 good woman, you just move off from here and go 
 home. If I leave you here by yourself a bit, will you 
 promise me to go straight home? I mustn't find you 
 here when I come back on this beat, d'ye understand?" 
 Liz nodded. "That's right!" he resumed, cheerily, 
 "I'll give you just ten minutes; you just go straight 
 home." 
 
 And with a "Good night," uttered in accents meant 
 to be comforting, he turned away and paced on, his 
 measured tread echoing on the silence at first loudly, 
 then fainter and fainter, till it altogether died away, 
 as his bulky figure disappeared in the distance. Left 
 to herself, Liz rose from her crouching posture; rock- 
 ing the dead child in her arms, she smiled.
 
 28 The Hired Baby 
 
 "Go straight home!" she murmured, half aloud, 
 "Home, sweet home! Yes, baby; yes, my darling, 
 we will go home together!" 
 
 And creeping cautiously along in the shadows, she 
 reached a flight of the broad stone steps leading down 
 to the river. She descended them one by one; the 
 black water lapped against them heavily, heavily; 
 the tide was full up. She paused; a sonorous, deep- 
 toned iron voice rang through the air with reverber- 
 ating, solemn melody. It was the great bell of St. 
 Paul's tolling midnight the Old Year was dead. 
 
 "Straight home!" she repeated, with a beautiful 
 expectant look in her wild, weary eyes. "My little 
 darling! Yes, we are both tired, we will go home! 
 Home, sweet home! We will go!" 
 
 Kissing the cold face of the baby corpse she held, 
 she threw herself forward; there followed a sullen 
 deep splash a slight struggle and all was over! 
 The water lapped against the steps heavily, heavily 
 as before; the policeman passed once more, and saw 
 to his satisfaction that the coast was clear; through 
 the dark veil of the sky one star looked out and 
 twinkled for a brief instant, then disappeared again. 
 A clash and clamor of bells startled the brooding 
 night here and there a window was cpeaed and 
 figures appeared in balconies to listen. They were 
 ringing in the New Year the festival of hope, the 
 birthday of the world ! But what were New Years to 
 her who, with white, upturned face and arms that em- 
 braced an infant in the tenacious grip of death, went 
 drifting, drifting solemnly down the dark river, un- 
 seen, unpitied of all those who awoke to new hopes and 
 aspirations on that first morning of another life-pro-
 
 The Hired Baby 29 < 
 
 bation! Liz had gone gone to make her peace 
 with God perhaps through the aid of her "hired" 
 baby - the little sinless soul she had so fondly cher- 
 ished, gone to that sweetest "home" we dream of and 
 pray for, where the lost and bewildered wanderers on 
 this earth shall find true welcome and rest from grief 
 and exile gone to that fair, far Glory-World where 
 reigns the Divine Master whose words still ring above 
 the tumult of ages: "See that you despise not one 
 of these little ones, for I say unto you that their angels 
 do always behold the face of My Father who is in 
 heaven!" 
 
 YBB 1N.
 
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 6 Deb and the Duchess 21 Miss Nonentity 
 
 7 Francis Kane's 22 Modern Tomboy, A 
 
 Fortune 23 Out of Fashion 
 
 8 Gay Charmer, A 24 Palace Beautiful 
 
 9 Girl of the People, A 25 Polly, A New-Fash- 
 
 10 Girl in Ten ioned Girl 
 
 Thousand, A 26 Rebels of the School 
 
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 12 Girls of the True A 
 
 Blue 29 Time of Roses, The 
 
 13 Good Luck 30 Very Naughty Girl, A 
 
 14 Heart of Gold, The 31 Wild Kitty 
 
 1 5 Honorable Miss, The 32 World of Girls 
 
 17 Light of the Morning 33 Young Mutineer, The 
 
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 1 Adrift in New York 
 
 2 Andy Gordon 
 
 3 Andy Grant's Pluck 
 
 4 Bob Burton 
 
 5 Bound to Rise 
 
 6 Brave and Bold 
 
 7 Cash Boy, The 
 
 8 Charlie Codman's Cruise 
 
 9 Chester Rand 
 
 10 Cousin's Conspiracy, A 
 
 11 Do and Dare 
 
 12 Driven From Home 
 
 13 Erie Train Boy 
 
 14 Facing the World 
 
 15 Five Hundred Dollars 
 
 16 Frank's Campaign 
 
 17 Grit; The Young Boatman 
 
 18 Herbert Carter's Legacy 
 
 19 Hector's Inheritance 
 
 20 Helping Himself 
 
 21 In a New World 
 
 22 Jack's Ward 
 
 23 Jed, the Poor House Boy 
 
 24 Joe's Luck 
 
 25 Julius, the Street Boy 
 
 26 Luke Walton 
 
 27 Making His Way 
 
 28 Mark Mason's Victory 
 
 29 Only an Irish Boy 
 
 Alger Series 
 
 For Boys 
 
 The public and popular verdict for 
 many years has approved of the Alger 
 series of books as among the most 
 wholesome of all stories for boys. To 
 meet the continued demand for these 
 books in the most attractive style of 
 the binder's art, we have made this 
 special edition in ornamental designs 
 in three colors, stamped on side and 
 back. Clear, large type is used on 
 superior super-finish paper. The elab- 
 orate designs are stamped upon binder's 
 English linen cloth, with side and back 
 titles in large letterings. Each book in 
 printed wrapper. 12mo cloth. 
 
 30 Paul Prescott's Charge 
 
 31 Paul, the Peddler 
 
 32 Phil, the Fiddler 
 
 33 Ralph Raymond's Heir 
 
 34 Risen from the Ranks 
 
 35 Sam's Chance 
 
 36 Shifting for Himself 
 
 37 Sink or Swim 
 
 38 Slow and Sure 
 
 39 Store Boy, The 
 
 40 Strive and Succeed 
 
 41 Strong and Steady 
 
 42 Struggling Upward 
 
 43 Telegraph Boy, The 
 
 44 Tin Box, The 
 
 45 Tom, the Boot Black 
 
 46 Tony, the Tramp 
 
 47 Try and Trust 
 
 48 Wait and Hope 
 Walter She_rwood*s 
 
 Probation 
 Wren Winter's Triumph 
 
 51 Young Acrobat 
 
 52 Young Adventurer, The 
 
 53 Young Explorer 
 
 54 Young Miner 
 
 55 Young Musician 
 
 56 Young Outlaw 
 
 57 Young Salesman 
 
 49 
 50 
 
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 All of the above books may be had at the store where this 
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 publishers 
 
 M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY 
 
 701-727 S. DEARBORN ST. :: CHICAGO