1 iJN 
 
 N BAM
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SET IN SILVER
 
 BOOKS BY 
 
 C. N. AND A. M. WILLIAMSON 
 
 THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR 
 THE PRINCESS PASSES 
 MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR 
 LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER 
 ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 
 THE CAR OF DESTINY 
 THE CHAPERON 
 THE PRINCESS VIRGINIA 
 ETC., ETC.
 
 Audrie
 
 SET IN SILVER 
 
 BY 
 
 C. N. AND A. M. WILLIAMSON 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 MCMIX
 
 All rights reserved, including that of translation 
 into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian 
 
 Copyright, 1900, by 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 Published, April, 1909 
 
 1521447
 
 P5 
 33/7 
 
 TO A GREAT MAN, AND A GREAT MOTORIST 
 
 With all admiration we dedicate our story 
 of a tour in the land he loves. 
 
 "... this little world, 
 This precious stone, set in the silver sea 
 That serves it in the office of a wall, 
 Or as a moat defensive to a house, 
 Against the envy of less happier lands, 
 This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, 
 this England."
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Audrie ...... 
 
 PAINTED BY P. X. LEYENDECKER 
 
 FACING PAGK 
 
 A Map to show the route of the motor . . 86 
 " The jewel of a market cross " ... 100 
 
 " The policeman explained to me "... 150 
 
 " William Rufus couldn 't have chosen a more 
 
 ideal spot to die in " . . . . . 156 
 
 In Sir Lionel's county, Cornwall . . . 248 
 
 PAINTED BY WILLIAM PASCOE 
 
 " The Yarn Market is unique in England " . 316 
 " The splendid ruin, reared on its great rock " . 376 
 
 " Its twenty-one towers and turrets still dominate 
 
 bridge and river " 388 
 
 " There were twelve or fifteen of us who left 
 
 Cragside " 416 
 
 " Bamborough surpasses all Northumbrian cas- 
 tles " 418 
 
 PAINTED BY FRANK SOUTHGATE 
 
 " The exquisite beauty of ruined Fountains Abbey " 428 
 
 PAINTED BY WAL PAQET 
 
 " The foaming cauldron of the Strid " . . 430
 
 SET IN SILVER
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 AT CHAMPEL-LES-BAINS, SWITZERLAND 
 
 Rue Chapeau de Marie Antoinette 
 Versailles, July Mh 
 
 DARLING LITTLE FRENCH MOTHER: Things have 
 happened. Fire-crackers ! Roman candles ! rockets ! But 
 don't be frightened. They 're all in my head. Never- 
 theless I have n't had such a Fourth of July since I was a 
 small girl in America, and stood on a tin pail with a whole 
 pack of fire-crackers popping away underneath. 
 
 Is n't it funny, when you have a lot to tell, it 's not hah* 
 as easy to write a letter as when you 've nothing at all to 
 say, and must make up for lack of matter by weaving 
 phrases ? Now, when I 'm suffering from a determination 
 of too many words to my pen, they all run together in a 
 torrent, and I don't know how to make them dribble 
 singly to a beginning. 
 
 I think I '11 talk about other things first. That 's the 
 way dear Dad used to do when he had exciting news, and 
 loved to dangle it over our heads, "cherry ripe" fashion, 
 harping on the weather or the state of the stock-market 
 until he had us almost dancing with impatience. 
 
 Yes, I '11 dwell on other things first but not irrelevant 
 things, for I '11 dwell on You with a capital Y, which 
 3
 
 4 SET IN SILVER 
 
 is the only proper way to spell You and You are never 
 irrelevant. You could n't be, whatever was happening. 
 And just now you 're particularly relevant, though you 're 
 far off in nice, cool Switzerland; for presently, when I 
 come to the Thing, I 'm going to ask your advice. 
 
 It 's very convenient having a French mother, and I do 
 appreciate dear Dad's Yankee cleverness in securing you 
 in the family. You say sometimes that I seem all Ameri- 
 can, and that you 're glad; which is pretty of you, and loyal 
 to father's country, but I 'm not sure whether I should n't 
 have preferred to turn out more like my mamma. You 're 
 so complete, somehow as Frenchwomen are, at their 
 best. I often think of you as a kind of pocket combination 
 of Somebody's Hundred Best Books: Romance, Practical 
 Common Sense, Poetry, Wit, Wisdom, Fancy Cookery, 
 etc., etc. 
 
 Who but a Frenchwoman could combine all these 
 qualities with the latest thing in hair-dressing and the 
 neatest thing in stays ? By the way, can one's stays be a 
 quality ? Yes, if one 's French even hah* French I 
 believe they can. 
 
 If I had n't just got your letter of day before yesterday, 
 assuring me that you feel strong and fresh almost as 
 if you 'd never been ill I should n't worry you for advice. 
 Only a few weeks ago, if suddenly called upon for it, 
 you 'd have shown signs of nervous prostration. I shall 
 never forget my horror when you (quite uncontrollably) 
 threw a spoon at Philomene w r ho came to ask whether we 
 would have soup a croute or potage ci la bonne femme for 
 dinner! 
 
 Switzerland was an inspiration; mine, I flatter myself.
 
 SET IN SILVER 5 
 
 And if, in telling me that you 're in robust health again, 
 you 're hinting at an intention to sneak back to blazing 
 Paris before the middle of September, you don't know 
 your Spartan daughter. All that 's American in me 
 rises to shout "No!" And you need n't think that your 
 child is bored. She may be boiled, but never bored. Far 
 from it, as you shall hear. 
 
 School breaks up to-morrow breaks into little blond 
 and brunette bits, which will blow or drift off to their 
 respective homes; and I should by this time be packing 
 to visit the Despards, where I 'm supposed to teach Mimi's 
 young voice to soar, as compensation for holiday hos- 
 pitality; but I'm not packing, because Ellaline Leth- 
 bridge has had an attack of nerves. 
 
 You won't be surprised that I stopped two hours over- 
 time to-day to hold the hand and to stroke the hair of 
 Ellaline. I 've done that before, when she had a pain in 
 her finger, or a cold in her little nose, and sent you a 
 petit bleu to announce that I could n't get home for dinner 
 and our happy hour together. No, you won't be sur- 
 prised at my stopping or that Ellaline should have 
 an attack of nerves. But the reason for the attack 
 and the cure she wants me to give her: these will 
 surprise you. 
 
 Why, it 's almost as hard to begin, after all, as if I 
 had n't been working industriously up to it for three pages. 
 But here goes! 
 
 Dearest, you 've often said, and I 've agreed with you 
 (or else it was the other way round) , that nothing I could 
 ever do for Ellaline Lethbridge would be too much; that 
 she could n't ask any sacrifice of me which would be too
 
 6 SET IN SILVER 
 
 great. Of course, one does say these things until one is 
 tested. But I wonder if there is a " but " ? 
 
 Of course you believe that your one chick has a glorious 
 voice, and that it 's a cruel shame she should be doing 
 nothing better than teaching other people's chicks to squall, 
 whether their voices are worth squalling with or not. 
 Perhaps, though, mine may n't be as remarkable an organ 
 as we think; and even if you had n't made me give up trying 
 for light opera, because I received one Insult (with a 
 capital I) while I was Madame Larese's favourite pupil, I 
 might n't in any case have turned into a great prima donna. 
 I was rather excited and amused by the Insult myself it 
 made me feel so interesting, and so like a heroine of 
 romance; but you did n't approve of it; and we had some 
 hard times, had n't we, after all our money was spent in 
 globe-trotting, and lessons for me from the immortal 
 Larese ? 
 
 If it had n't been for meeting Ellaline, and Ellaline 
 falling a victim to my modest charms, and insisting upon 
 Madame de Maluet's taking me as a teacher of singing 
 for her " celebrated finishing school for Young Ladies," 
 what would have become of us, dearest, with you so deli- 
 cate, me so young, and both of us so poor and alone in a 
 big world ? I really don't know, and you 've often said 
 you did n't. 
 
 Of course, if it had n't been for Ellaline Madame's 
 richest and most important girl persisting as she did, 
 in her imperious, spoiled-child way, Madame would n't 
 have dreamed of engaging a young girl like me, without 
 any experience as a teacher, no matter how much she liked 
 my voice and my (or rather Larese's) method. I suppose
 
 SET IN SILVER 7 
 
 no one would else have risked me; so I certainly do owe 
 to Ellaline, and nobody but Ellaline, three happy and 
 (fairly) prosperous years. To be sure, because of my posi- 
 tion at Madame de Maluet's, I have got a few outside 
 pupils; but that 's indirectly through Ellaline, too, is n't it ? 
 
 I 'm reminding you of all these things so that you may 
 have it clearly before your mind just how much we do owe 
 Ellaline, and judge whether the payment she now asks is 
 too big or not. 
 
 That 's the way she puts it, not coarsely or crudely; but 
 I know how she feels. 
 
 She sent me a little note yesterday, while I was giving a 
 lesson, to say she 'd a horrid headache, had gone to bed, 
 and would I come to her room as soon as I could. Well, 
 I went at lunch time, for I hated to keep her waiting, and 
 thought I could eat later. As it turned out, I did n't eat 
 at all. But that 's a detail. 
 
 Shfrhad on a perfectly divine nighty, with low neck and 
 short sleeves (no girl would be allowed to wear such a thing 
 in any but a French school, I 'm sure, even if she were a 
 " parlour boarder ") and her hair was in curly waves over 
 her shoulders. Altogether she looked adorable, and about 
 fourteen years old, instead of nearly nineteen, as she is. 
 
 " You don't show your headache a bit," said I. 
 
 ** I have n't got one," said she. 
 
 Then she explained that she 'd been dying for a chance 
 to talk with me alone, and the headache was the only thing 
 that occurred to her in the circumstances. She does n't 
 mind little fibs, you know. Indeed, I believe she rather 
 likes them, because any " intrigue," even the smallest, is 
 exciting to her.
 
 8 SET IN SILVER 
 
 You would never guess anything like what has happened 
 
 That dragon of a guardian of hers is coming back al 
 last from Bengal, where he 's been governor or something 
 Not that his coming would matter particularly if it were n'1 
 for complications, but there are several, the most formid- 
 able of which is a Young Man. 
 
 The Young Man is a French young man, and his name 
 is Honore du Guesclin. He is a lieutenant in the arm} 
 (Ellaline mentioned the regiment with pride, but I 'v( 
 forgotten it already, there was so much else to remember) 
 and she says he is descended from the great Du Guesclin 
 She met him at Madame de Blanchemain's you remem- 
 ber the Madame de Blanchemain who was Ellaline's deac 
 mother's most intimate friend, and who lives at St. Cloud i 
 Ellaline has spent all her holidays there ever since I 'v( 
 known her; but though I thought she told me everything 
 (she always vowed she did), not a word did she evei 
 breathe about a young man having risen over her horizon 
 She says she did n't dare, because I 'm so " queer and print 
 about some things." I 'm not, am I ? But now she '* 
 driven to confess, as she 's in the most awful scrape, anc 
 does n't know what will become of her and " darling 
 Honore," unless I '11 consent to help them. 
 
 She met him only last Easter. He 's a nephew oi 
 Madame de Blanchemain's, it seems; and on coming bad 
 from foreign service in Algeria, or somewhere, he dutifullj 
 paused to visit his relative. Of course it occurs to me, Did 
 Madame de Blanchemain write and intimate that she 
 would have in the house a pretty little Anglo-Frenct 
 heiress, with no inconvenient relatives, unless one counts 
 the Dragon? But Ellaline says Honore's coming was
 
 SET IN SILVER 9 
 
 quite a surprise to his aunt. Anyway, he proposed on the 
 third day, and Ellaline accepted him. It was by moonlight, 
 in a garden, so who can blame the poor child ? I always 
 thought if even a moderately good-looking young man pro- 
 posed to me by moonlight, in a garden, I would say 
 " Yes yes!" at once, even if I changed my mind next day- 
 
 But Honore is very good looking (she has his picture in a 
 locket, with such a turned-up moustache I mean 
 Honore, not the locket), and so Ellaline did n't change her 
 mind next day. 
 
 Not a word was said to Madame de Blanchemain (as 
 far as Ellaline knows), for they decided that, considering 
 everything, they must keep their secret, and eventually 
 run away to be married; because Honore is poor, and 
 Ellaline 's an heiress guarded by a Dragon. 
 
 Well, through letters which E. has been receiving at a 
 teashop where she and the other older girls go, rigorously 
 chaperoned, twice a week, it was arranged to do the deed 
 as soon as school should close; and if they could have 
 carried out their plan, Ellaline would have been Madame 
 du Guesclin before the Dragon could have appeared on 
 the scene, breathing fire and rattling his scales. They 
 were going to Scotland to be married (Honore's idea), as 
 a man can't legally marry a girl under age in France with- 
 out the consent of everybody concerned. Once she 'd got 
 away with him, and had had any kind of hole-in-the- 
 corner wedding, Honore was of opinion that even the most 
 abandoned Dragon would be thankful to sanction a mar- 
 riage according to French law; so it could all be done over 
 again properly in France. 
 
 I suppose this appealed immensely to Ellaline's love of
 
 10 SET IN SILVER 
 
 intrigue and kittenish tricksiness generally. Anyway, 
 she agreed ; but young officers propose, and their superiors 
 dispose. Honore was ordered off for a month's 
 manoeuvres before he could even ask for leave ; and as he 's 
 known to be destitute of near relatives, he could n't rake 
 up a perishing grandmother as an excuse. 
 
 What he did try, I don't know; but anyhow, he failed, 
 and the running away had to be put off. That was blow 
 number one, and could have been borne, without blow 
 number two, which fell in the shape of a letter. It said 
 that the wicked guardian was just about to start for home, 
 and intended to pick up Ellaline on his way to England, 
 as if she were a parcel labelled " to be kept till called for." 
 
 She 's certain he won't let her marry Honore if he has 
 the chance to say "no" beforehand, because he cares 
 nothing about her happiness, or about her, or anything else 
 except his own selfish ambitions. Of course, Ellaline is 
 a girl who takes strong prejudices against people for no 
 particular reason, except that she has a " feeling they are 
 horrid"; but she does appear to be right about this man. 
 He 's English, and though Ellaline's mother was half 
 French, they were cousins, and I believe her dying request 
 was that he should take care of her daughter and her 
 daughter's money. You would have thought that that 
 must have softened even a hard heart, would n't you ? 
 But the Dragon's was evidently sentiment-proof, even so 
 many years ago, when he must have been comparatively 
 young if Dragons are ever young. 
 
 He accepted the charge (Ellaline thinks her money 
 probably influenced him to do that; and perhaps he was 
 paid for his trouble) ; but, instead of carrying out his
 
 SET IN SILVER 11 
 
 engagements, like a faithful guardian, he packed the poor 
 four-year-old baby off to some pokey, prim people in the 
 country, and promptly went abroad to enjoy himself. 
 There EUaline would no doubt have been left to this day, 
 dreadfully unhappy and out of her element, for the people 
 were an English curate and his wife; but, luckily, her 
 mother had stipulated that she was to be sent to the same 
 school in France where she herself had been educated 
 Madame de Maluet's. 
 
 Never once has her guardian shown the slightest sign of 
 interest in Ellaline: hasn't asked for her photograph or 
 written her any letters. They 've communicated with each 
 other only through Madame de Maluet, four times a year 
 or so; and Ellaline does n't feel sure that her fortune 
 has been properly administered, so she says she ought to 
 marry young and have a husband to look after her 
 interests. 
 
 When I ventured to hope that the Dragon was n't quite 
 so scaly and taily as she painted him, she proved her 
 point by telling me that he 'd been censured lately in the 
 English Radical papers for killing a lot of poor, defence- 
 less Bengalese in cold blood. Somebody must have sent 
 her the cuttings, for Ellaline hardly knows that news- 
 papers exist. I dare say it was Kathy Bennett, one of 
 Madame's few English pupils. Ellaline has chummed 
 up with her lately. And that news does seem to 
 settle the man's character, does n't it ? He must be a 
 perfect brute. 
 
 Ellaline says that she 'd rather die than lose Honore, 
 also that he '11 kill himself if he loses her. And now, 
 dearest now for the Thunderbolt! She vows that the
 
 12 SET IN SILVER 
 
 only thing which can possibly save her is for me to take 
 her place for five or six weeks, until her soldier's manoeuvres 
 are over and he can get leave to whisk her off to Scotland 
 for the wedding. 
 
 You 're the quickest- witted darling in the world, and 
 you generally know all that people mean even before they 
 speak. Yet I can see you looking puzzled as well as 
 startled, and muttering to yourself: "Take Ellaline's 
 place ? Where how when ? " 
 
 I was like that myself while she was trying to explain. 
 I stared with an owlish stare for about five minutes, until 
 her real idea in all its native wildness, not to say enormity, 
 burst upon me. 
 
 She wants to go day after to-morrow to Madame de 
 Blanchemain's, as she 'd expected to do before she heard 
 that the Dragon was coming to gobble her up. She wants 
 to stay there quietly until Honore can take her, and she 
 wants me to pretend to be Ellaline Lethbridge! 
 
 I nearly fell off my chair at this point, but I hope you 
 won't do anything like that which is the reason why I 've 
 been working up to the revelation with such fiendish 
 subtlety. Have you noticed it ? 
 
 Ellaline has plotted the whole scheme out. I should n't 
 have thought her capable of it; but she says it's 
 desperation. 
 
 She 's certain she can persuade Madame de Maluet to 
 let her leave school, to go to the station and meet the 
 Dragon (that 's the course he himself suggests : too much 
 trouble even to run out to Versailles and fetch her) with 
 only me as chaperon. I dare say she 's right about 
 Madame, for all the teachers will be gone day after to-
 
 SET IN SILVER 13 
 
 morrow, and Madame herself invariably collapses the 
 moment school breaks up : she seems to break up with it, 
 and to have to lie in bed for at least half a week to be 
 mended. 
 
 Madame has really quite a flattering opinion of my 
 discretion. She 's told me so several times. I suppose 
 it 's the way I do my hair for school, which does give me a 
 look of incorruptible virtue, does n't it ? Fortunately 
 she does n't know I always change it (if not too tired) ten 
 minutes after I get home to you. 
 
 Well, then, taking Madame's permission for granted, 
 Ellaline points out that all stumbling-blocks are removed, 
 for she won't count moral ones, or let me count them. 
 
 I 'm to see her off for St. Cloud, and wait to receive the 
 Dragon. "Sir, behold the burnt-offering I mean, 
 behold your ward!" 
 
 And I 'm to go on being a burnt-offering till it 's con- 
 venient for the real Ellaline to scrape my ashes off the 
 smoking altar. 
 
 It 's all very well to make fun of the thing like that. 
 But to be serious and goodness knows it 's serious 
 enough what 's to be done, little mother ? Ellaline 
 has (because I insisted) given me till to-morrow morning 
 to answer. I explained that my consent must depend 
 on your consent. So that 's why I have n't had anything 
 to eat since breakfast. I rushed home to write this 
 immense letter to you, and get it off to catch the post. It 
 will arrive in the morning with your coffee and petits pains 
 how I wish I were in its place! You can take half an 
 hour to make up your mind (I 'm sure with your lightning 
 wits you would n't ask longer to decide the fate of the
 
 14 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Great Powers of Europe) and then telegraph me simply 
 "Yes," or "No." I will understand. 
 
 For my own sake, naturally, I should prefer "No." 
 That goes unsaid, does n't it ? I should then be relieved 
 of responsibility; for even Ellaline, knowing that you and 
 I are all in all to each other, could hardly expect me to fly 
 in your face, just to please her. But, on the other hand, 
 if you did think I could do this dreadful thing without 
 thereby becoming myself a Dreadful Thing, it would be 
 a glorious relief to pay my debt of gratitude to Ellaline, 
 yes, and even over-pay it, perhaps. One likes to over- 
 pay a debt that 's been owing a long time, for it 's like 
 adding an accumulation of interest that one's creditor 
 never expected to get. 
 
 When, gasping after the first shock, I pleaded that 
 I 'd do anything else, make any other sacrifice for Ellaline's 
 sake, except this one, she flashed out (with the odd shrewd- 
 ness which lurks in her childishness like a bright little 
 garter-snake darting its head from a bed of violets), saying 
 that was always the way with people. They were invari- 
 ably ready to do for their best friends, to whom they were 
 grateful, anything on earth except the only thing wanted. 
 
 Well, I had no answer to make; for it 's true, is n't it? 
 And then Ellaline sobbed dreadfully, clutching at me 
 with little, hot, trembling hands, crying that she 'd 
 counted on me, that she 'd been sure, after all my promises, 
 I would n't fail her. She 'd felt so safe with me! Are you 
 surprised I had n't the heart to refuse ? I confess, dear, 
 that if I were quite alone in the world (though the world 
 would n't be a world without you) I should certainly have 
 grovelled and consented then and there.
 
 SET IN SILVER 15 
 
 She says she won't close her eyes to-night, and I dare 
 say she won't, in which case she '11 be as pathetic as a 
 broken flower to-morrow. I don't think I shall sleep 
 much either, wondering what your verdict will be. 
 
 I really have n't the remotest idea whether it will be 
 Yes or No. Usually I imagine that I can pretty well 
 guess what your opinion is likely to be, but I can't this 
 time. The thing to decide upon is in itself so fantastic, 
 so monstrous, that one moment I tell myself you won't even 
 consider it. The next minute I remember what a dear 
 little "crank" you are on the subject of gratitude your 
 "favourite virtue,",as you used to write in old-fashioned 
 "Confession Albums" of provincial American friends 
 when I was a child. 
 
 If people do anything nice for you, you run your little 
 high-heeled shoes into holes to do something even nicer for 
 them. If you 're invited out to tea, you ask your hostess 
 to lunch or dinner, in return: that sort of thing invariably; 
 and you 've brought me up with the same bee in my 
 bonnet. So what will your telegram be ? 
 
 Whatever you say, you may count on a meek "Amen, so 
 be it," from 
 
 Your most admiring subject, 
 
 AUDRIE. 
 
 P. S. Of course, it is n't as if this man were an 
 ordinary, nice, inoffensive human man, is it ? I do think 
 that almost any treatment is too good for such a cold- 
 blooded, supercilious old Dragon. And you need n't 
 reprove me for "calling names." With singular justice 
 Providence has ticketed him as appropriately as his worst
 
 16 SETINSILVER 
 
 enemy would have dared to do. They have such weird 
 names in Cornwall, don't they ? and it seems he 's a 
 Comishman. Until lately he was plain Mister, now he 's 
 Sir Lionel Pendragon. Somebody has been weak enough 
 to die and leave him a title, and also an estate (though not 
 in Cornwall) which he 's returning to England in greedy 
 haste to pounce upon. So characteristic, after living away 
 all these years; though Madame de Maluet has tried to 
 make Ellaline believe he 's coming back to settle down 
 because of a letter she wrote, reminding him respectfully 
 that after nineteen it 's almost indecent for a girl to be kept 
 at school. 
 
 Don't fear, however, if your telegram casts me to the 
 Dragon, that I shall be in danger of getting eaten up. 
 His Dragonship, among other stodgy defects, has that 
 of eminent, well-nigh repulsive, respectability. He is as 
 respectable as a ramrod or a poker, and very elderly, 
 Ellaline says. From the way she talks about him he 
 must be getting on for a hundred, and he is provided with 
 a widowed sister, a Mrs. Norton, whom he has dug up 
 from some place in the country to act as chaperon for his 
 ward. All other women he is supposed to detest, and 
 would, if necessary, beat them off with a stick.
 
 n 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Rue Chapeau de Marie Antoinette 
 Versailles, July 5th 
 
 MY SPARTAN ANGEL: Now the telegram 's come, I feel 
 as if I 'd known all along what your decision would be. 
 
 I 'm glad you were extravagant enough to add 
 " Writing," for to-morrow morning I shall know by exactly 
 what mental processes you decided. Also, I 'm glad (I 
 think I 'm glad) that the word is "Yes." 
 
 It 's afternoon now ; just twenty-four hours since I sat 
 here in the same place (at your desk in the front window, 
 of course), trying my best to put the situation before you, 
 as a plain, unvarnished tale. 
 
 I' stuck the bit of blue paper under Ellaline's nose, and 
 she almost had a fit with joy. If she were bigger and more 
 muscular, she 'd have kissed and squeezed the breath of 
 life out of me, which would have been awkward for her, 
 as she 'd then have been thrown back upon her own 
 resources. 
 
 Oh, ma petite poupee de Mere, only think of it! I go 
 to-morrow into space. I disappear. I cease to exist 
 pro tern. There will be no me, no Audrie, but, instead, 
 two Ellalines. I 've often told her, by the way, that I 
 would make two of her. Evidently I once had a prophetic 
 17
 
 18 SET IN SILVER 
 
 soul. I only wish I had it still, so I might see beforehand 
 what will happen to the Me-ness of Ellaline in the next 
 few weeks. Anyhow, whatever comes, I expect to 
 be supported by the consciousness that I 'm paying 
 a debt of gratitude as perhaps such a debt was never 
 paid before. 
 
 Of course I shall have a perfectly horrid time. Not 
 only shall I be wincing under the degrading knowledge 
 that I 'm a base pretender, but I shall be wretchedly 
 homesick and bored within an inch of my life. I shall be, 
 in the sort of environment Ellaline describes, like a mouse 
 in a vacuum a poor, frisky, happy, out-of-doors field- 
 mouse, caught for an experiment. When the experiment 
 is finished I shall crawl away, a decrepit wreck. But, thank 
 heaven, I can crawl to You, and you will nurse me back 
 to life. We '11 talk everything over, for hours on 
 end, and I '11 be able to abuse the Dragon to my 
 heart's content. I know you '11 let me do that, provided 
 I don't use naughty words, or, if any, disguise them 
 daintily in a whisper. 
 
 Ellaline and I have discussed plans and possibilities, 
 and if all goes as she expects (I don't see why it should n't), 
 I ought to be freed from the unpleasant rdle of understudy 
 in five or six weeks. The instant my chains are broken 
 by a telegram from the bride saying, "Safely married," 
 or words to that effect, I shall do "all my possible" to 
 fold my tent like an Arab and silently steal not to say 
 sneak away from the lair of the Dragon, without his 
 opening a scaly red eye to the dreadful reality, until I 'm 
 beyond his power. 
 
 It must be either that or the most awful scene with
 
 SET IN SILVER 19 
 
 him a Regular Row. He, saying what he thinks of my 
 deception; me, defending myself and the,, real Ellaline 
 by saying what I think of his general beastliness. If 
 it came to that, I might in my rage wax unladylike; 
 so perhaps, of the two evils, the lesser would be the 
 sneak act n'est ce pas? Well, I shall see when the 
 time comes. 
 
 In five or six weeks I had thought, in any case, of allow- 
 ing you to leave Champel-les-Bains, should you grow too 
 restive lacking my society. I thought of proposing by 
 then, if you were sufficiently braced by Swiss air, milk, and 
 honey and Champel douches, that we should join forces 
 at a cheap but alluring farmhouse somewhere. 
 
 That idea may still fit in rather well, may n't it ? But 
 if, for any unforeseen reason, I should have to stay sizzling 
 on the sacrificial altar longer than we expect, you must n't 
 come home to hot Paris to economize and mope in the flat. 
 You must stop in Switzerland till I can meet you in some 
 nice place in the country. Promise that you won't add 
 to my burdens by being refractory. 
 
 I '11 wire you an address as soon as I am blessed or 
 cursed with one. And whatever you do, don't 
 forget that I 'm merged in Ellaline Lethbridge. If her 
 identity fits me as badly as her dresses would do 
 it will come about down to my knees and won't meet 
 round the waist. 
 
 As soon as I have your letter to-morrow morning, 
 dearest, I '11 write again, if only a few lines. Then, when 
 I 've seen the Dragon and have gained a vague idea how 
 and where he means to dispose of his prey, I '11 scribble 
 off some sort of description of the man and the meeting,
 
 20 SET IN SILVER 
 
 even if it 's on board the Channel boat, in the midst of a 
 tossing. 
 
 Your 
 
 IPHEGENIA. 
 
 (Or would Jephtha's daughter be more 
 appropriate ? I 'm not quite sure how 
 to spell either.)
 
 in 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Rue Chapeau de Marie Antoinette 
 July 6th. Early Morning 
 
 DEAREST DAME WISDOM : You ought to be Adviser-in- 
 Chief to Crowned Heads. You 'd be invaluable; worth 
 any salary. What a shame you are n't widely known : a 
 sort of public possession! But for my sake I 'm glad 
 you are n't, because if you were discovered you 'd never 
 have a spare minute to advise me. 
 
 Of course, dear, if you had n't reached your conclusions 
 just as you did about this step you would n't have coun- 
 selled, or even allowed, me to take it. And I will remember 
 every word you say. I '11 do exactly as you tell me to do. 
 So now, don't worry, any more than you would if I were 
 an experienced and accomplished young parachutist about 
 to make a descent from the top of the Eiffel tower. 
 
 It 's eight o'clock, and I 've satisfied my soul with your 
 letter and my body with its morning roll and coffee. 
 When I 've finished scribbling this in pencil to you, I shall 
 pack, and be ready for anything. 
 
 By the way, that reminds me. What a tangled web we 
 weave when first we practise to deceive, etc. 
 
 Won't the Dragon think it queer that his rich ward 
 should make no better toilettes than I shall be able to 
 21
 
 22 SET IN SILVER 
 
 produce after living at Versailles, practically in Paris, 
 with a huge amount of spending money for a 
 schoolgirl ? 
 
 I thought of that difficulty only last night for the first 
 time, after I was in bed, and was tempted to jump up and 
 review my wardrobe. But it was unnecessary. Not only 
 could I call to mind in the most lively way every dress I 
 have, but, I do believe, every dress I ever did have since 
 my frocks were let down or done over from yours. I sup- 
 pose that ought to make me feel rather young, ought n't it ? 
 To remember every dress I ever owned ? But it does n't. 
 I '11 be twenty-one this month, you know a year older 
 than you were when your ears were gladdened by my 
 first howl. I 'm sure it was unearthly, yet that you 
 said at once to Dad: "The dear child is going to be 
 musical!" 
 
 But to return to the wardrobe of the heiress's understudy. 
 It consists of my every-day tailor-made, two white linen 
 coats and skirts, a darned collection (I don't mean that 
 profanely) of summer blouses, and the everlasting, the 
 immortal, black evening dress. Is it three or four years 
 old ? I know it was my first black, and I did feel so proud 
 and grown-up when you said I might have it. 
 
 You '11 be asking yourself: "Where is the blue alpaca 
 she bought in the Bon Marche sale, which was in the act 
 of being made when I left for la Suisse ? " Up to now 
 I 've concealed from you the tragical fact that that 
 horrid little Mademoiselle Voisin completely spoiled 
 it. I was so furious I could have killed her if she 'd 
 been on the spot. There is no rage like the dress 
 rage, is there?
 
 SETINSILVER 23 
 
 My one hope is that the Dragon may take as little 
 interest in Ellaline's clothes as he has taken in Ellaline's 
 self, or that, being used to the costumes of the Bengalese, 
 which, perhaps, are somewhat sketchy, he may be thankful 
 that his ward has any at all. 
 
 You see, I can't tell Ellaline about this, because she 
 could n't help thinking it a hint for her to supply the defi- 
 ciency, and I would n't let her do that, even for her own 
 credit. Anyhow, there 'd be no time to get things, so I 
 must just do the best I can, and carry off the old gray serge 
 and sailor hat with a stately air. Heaven gave me five 
 foot seven and a half on purpose to do it with. 
 
 Now I must pack like heat-lightning; and when I 've 
 finished I shall send the brown box and the black Glad- 
 stone to the Gare de Lyon, where he will arrive from 
 Marseilles. That is rather complicated, as of course we 
 must go to the Gare du Nord for Calais or Boulogne; 
 but he may n't wish to start at once for England, and in 
 my new character, as his ward, I must be prepared to obey 
 his orders. I hope he won't treat me as he seems to have 
 treated the Bengalese! The luggage of Miss Ellaline 
 Lethbridge obviously can't be called for at the flat of Mrs. 
 Brendon and her daughter Audrie, for there would be 
 questions and no proper answers. Therefore, when I 
 present myself at the Gare de Lyon, I intend to be " self- 
 contained." All my worldly goods will be there, to be 
 disposed of as the Grand Mogul pleases. 
 
 When I 've packed I shall hie me to Madame de 
 Maluet's, looking as good and meek as a trained 
 dove, to take charge of Ellaline and to change into 
 Ellaline.
 
 24 SET IN SILVER 
 
 After that the Deluge. 
 Good-bye, darling! 
 Me, to the Lions! 
 
 But I shall have your talisman-letter in my pocket, 
 can't be eaten, though I do feel rather like 
 
 Your 
 
 MARTYR CHILD.
 
 IV 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 On Board the Boat, half-Channel over 
 July 6th. Night 
 
 MOTHER DEAR: The dragon-ness does n't show at all 
 on the outside. 
 
 I expected to meet a creature of almost heraldic grimness 
 rampant, disregardant, gules. What I did meet 
 but I 'm afraid that is n't the right way to begin. Please 
 consider that I have n't begun. I '11 go back to the time 
 when Ellaline and her chaperon (me) started away from 
 school together in a discreet and very hot cab with her 
 trunks. 
 
 She was jumpy and on edge with excitement, and got on 
 my nerves so that it was the greatest relief when I 'd seen 
 her off in her train for St. Cloud. Just at this point I find 
 another break in my narrative, made by d silly, not at all 
 interesting, adventure. 
 
 I 'd been waving my hand for the twenty-fifth time to 
 Ellaline, in response to the same number of waves from 
 her. When at last she drew in her head, as the train steamed 
 away, I turned round in a hurry lest she should pop it out 
 again, and bumped into a man, or what will be a man in a 
 few years if it lives. I said, "Pardon, monsieur," as 
 gravely as if it were a man already, and it said in French 
 25
 
 26 SET IN SILVER 
 
 made in England that 't was entirely its fault. It was 
 such a young youth, and looked so utterly English, that 
 I smiled a motherly smile, and breathed, "Not at all/' 
 as I passed on, fondly thinking to pass forever out of its 
 life at the same time. But, dearest, the absurd little thing 
 did n't recognize the smile as motherly. Perhaps it never 
 had a mother. I had hardly observed it as an individual, 
 I assure you, except as one's sub-conscious self takes notes 
 without permission from headquarters. I was vaguely 
 aware that the creature with whom I had collided was 
 quite nice-looking, though bullet -headed, freckled, light- 
 blue-eyed, crop-haired, and possessing the shadow of a 
 coming event in the shape (I can't call it more) of a mous- 
 tache. I had also an impression of a Panama hat, which 
 came off in compliment to me, a gray flannel suit, the 
 latest kind of collar (you know "Sissy Williams says, 
 ' the feeling is for low ones this year' ! ") and mustard- 
 coloured boots. All that sounds hideous, I know, yet 
 it was n't. At first sight it was rather attractive, but it 
 lost its attractiveness in a flash when it mistook the nature 
 of my smile. 
 
 You would n't believe that a nice, clean little British 
 face could change so much for the worse in about the 
 eighth part of a second ! It could n't have taken longer, or 
 I should n't have seen, because it happened between my 
 smile and my walking on. But I did see. A disagree- 
 able kind of lighting up in the eyes, which instantly made 
 them look full of consciousness of sex, is the only way 
 I can express it. And instead of being inoffensive, boyish, 
 blue beads, they were suddenly transformed into the sharp, 
 whitey-gray sort that the Neapolitans "make horns" at.
 
 SET IN SILVER 27 
 
 Well, all that was nothing to fuss about, for even / 
 know that misguided youths from Surbiton or Pawtucket, 
 who are quite harmless at home, think they owe it to 
 themselves to be gay dogs when they run over to 
 Paris, otherwise they '11 not get their money's worth. If 
 it had n't been for what came afterward I would n't 
 be wasting paper and ink on a silly young bounder. As 
 it is, I '11 just tell you what happened and see if you think 
 I was to blame, or whether there 's likely to be any bother. 
 
 At that change my look slid off the self-conceited face, 
 like rain off a particularly slippery duck's back. He 
 ought to have known then, if he had n't before, that I con- 
 sidered him a mere It, but I can just imagine his saying to 
 himself: "This is Paris, and I 've paid five pounds for a 
 return ticket. Must have something to tell the chaps. 
 What 's a girl doing out alone ?" 
 
 He came after me and said I 'd dropped something. 
 So I had. It was a rose. I was going to disclaim it, with 
 all the haughty grace of a broomstick, when suddenly I 
 remembered that it was my carte d'identitt, so to speak. 
 The Dragon had prescribed it in his last letter to Madame 
 de Maluet about meeting Ellaline. As there might be 
 difficulty in recognition if she came to the station with a 
 chaperon as strange to him as herself, it would be well, 
 he suggested, that each pinned a red rose on her dress. 
 Then he would look out for two ladies with two roses. 
 
 I could n't make myself into two ladies with two roses, 
 but I must be one lady with one rose, otherwise the Dragon 
 and I might miss each other, and he would go out to Ver- 
 sailles to see what the dickens was the matter. Then the 
 fat would be in the fire, with a vengeance !
 
 28 SET IN SILVER 
 
 You see, I had to say " Yes " to the rose, because there 
 was n't time to call at a florist's and try to buy another 
 red label before going on to the Gare de Lyon. I put out 
 my hand with a " thank you " that sounded as if it needed 
 oiling, but, as if on second thought the silly idiot asked if 
 he might keep the flower for himself. "It looks like an 
 English rose," said he, with a glance which transferred 
 the compliment to me. 
 
 " Certainly not sir," said I. " I need it myself." 
 
 " If that 's all, you might let me give you a whole bunch 
 to make up for it," said he. 
 
 Then I said, " Go away," which may n't have been 
 elegant, but was to the point. And I walked on with long 
 steps toward the place where there were cabs. But quite 
 a short man is as tall as a tall girl, and his steps were as 
 long as mine. 
 
 "I say," said he, "you need n't be so cross. What 's 
 the harm, as long as we 're both English, and this is Paris ?" 
 
 " I 'm not English," I snapped. " If you don't go away 
 I '11 call a gendarme." 
 
 "You will look a fool if you do. A great tall girl like 
 you," said he, trying to be funny. And it did sound 
 funny. I suppose I must have been pretty nervous, after 
 all I 'd gone through with Ellaline, for I almost giggled, 
 but I did n't, quite. On the contrary, I marched on like 
 a war-cloud about to burst, and proved my non-British 
 origin by addressing a cabman in the Parisian French I 've 
 inherited from you. I hoped that the boy could n't 
 understand, but he did. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I have to go to the Gare de Lyon, too," 
 he announced, "and it would be a very friendly act, and
 
 SET IN SILVER 29 
 
 show that you forgive me, if you 'd let me take you there in 
 a taxi-motor, which you '11 find much nicer than that old 
 Noah's ark you 're engaging." 
 
 "I don't forgive you," I said, as I mounted into the 
 alleged ark. " Your only excuse is that you 're not grown 
 up yet." 
 
 With that Parthian shot I ordered my cocker, who was 
 furtively grinning by this time, to drive on as quickly as 
 possible. 
 
 Of course the horrid child from Surbiton or somewhere 
 did n't have to go to the Gare de Lyon; but evidently he 
 regarded me as his last hope of an adventure before return- 
 ing to his native heath or duckpond; so, naturally, he 
 followed in a taxi-motor, whose turbulent, goodness- 
 knows-what-horse-power had to be subdued to one- 
 half-horse gait. I did n't look behind, but I felt in my 
 bones my funny bones that he was there. And 
 when I arrived at the Gare de Lyon so did he. 
 
 The train I 'd come to meet was a P. and O. Special, 
 or whatever you call it, and it was n't in yet, so I had to 
 wait. 
 
 " Cats may look at kings," said my gay cavalier. 
 
 "Cads mayn't though," said I. Perhaps I ought to 
 have maintained a dignified silence, but that mot was 
 irresistible. 
 
 "You are hard on a chap," said he. "I tell you what. 
 I 've been thinking a lot about you, mademoiselle, and I 
 believe you 're up to some little game of your own. When 
 the cat 's away the mice will play. You 've got rid of 
 your friend, and you 're out for a lark on your own. 
 What?"
 
 30 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Oh, would n't I have loved to box his ears ! But this 
 time I was dignified and turned my back on him. Luckily, 
 the train came puffing into the station, and he ceased to 
 bother me actively, for the time; but the worst is to 
 follow. 
 
 Now I think I 've got to the part of my story where the 
 Dragon ought to appear. 
 
 Suddenly, as the train stopped, that platform of a Paris 
 railway station was turned into a thoroughly English scene. 
 A wave from Great Britain swept over it, a tall and tweedy 
 wave, bearing with it golf clubs and kitbags and every 
 kind of English flotsam and jetsam. All the passengers 
 had lately landed from the foreignest of foreign parts, 
 coral strands, and that sort of remote thing, but they 
 looked as incorruptibly, triumphantly British, every man, 
 woman, and child of them (except a fringe of black or 
 brown servants), as if they had strolled over from across 
 Channel for a Saturday to Monday in "gay Paree." One 
 can't help admiring as well as wondering at that sort of 
 ineradicable, persistent Britishness, can one? I believe 
 it 's partly the secret of Great Britain's success in colon- 
 izing. Her people are so calmly sure of their superiority 
 over all other races that the other races end by believing 
 it, and trying to imitate their ways, instead of fighting to 
 maintain the right to their own. 
 
 That feeling came over me as I, a mere French and 
 American chit, stood aside to let the wave flow on. Every- 
 one looked so important, and unaware of the existence of 
 foreigners, except porters, that I was afraid my particular 
 drop of the wave might sail by on the crest, without noticing 
 me or my red rose. I tried to make myself little, and the
 
 SETINSILVER 31 
 
 rose big, as if it were in the foreground and I in the 
 perspective, but the procession moved on and nobody 
 who could possibly have been the Dragon wasted a 
 glance on me. 
 
 Toward the tail end, however, I spied two men coming, 
 followed by a small bronze figure in "native" dress of 
 some sort. One of the two was tall and tanned, and 
 thirty-five or so. The other I had a bet with myself 
 that he was my Dragon. But it was like "betting on a 
 certainty," which is one of the few things that 's dull and 
 dishonest at the same time. Some men are born dragons, 
 while others only achieve dragonhood, or have it thrust 
 upon them by the gout. This one was born a dragon, 
 and exactly what I 'd imagined him, or even worse, and I 
 was glad that I could conscientiously hate him in peace. 
 
 The other man had the walk so many Englishmen have, 
 as if he were tracking lions across a desert. I quite admire 
 that gait, for it looks brave and un-self-conscious; but the 
 old thing labelled "Dragon" marched along as if tramp- 
 ling on prostrate Bengalese. A red-hot Tory, of course 
 that went without saying of the type that thinks Radicals 
 deserve hanging. In his eyes that stony glare which 
 English people have when they 're afraid someone may 
 be wanting to know them; chicken-claws under his chin, 
 like you see in the necks of elderly bull dogs; a snobbish 
 nose; a bad-tempered mouth; age anywhere between 
 sixty and a hundred. Altogether one of those men who 
 must write to the Times or go mad. Dost like the 
 picture ? 
 
 Both these men, who were walking together, looked 
 at me rather hard; and I attributed the Dragon's failure to
 
 32 SETINSILVER 
 
 stop at the Sign of the Rose to the silly vanity which for 
 bade his wearing "specs" like a sensible old gentleman. 
 Accordingly, with laudable presence of mind, I did what 
 seemed the only thing to do. 
 
 I stepped forward, and addressed him with the modest 
 firmness Madame de Maluet's pupils are taught in 
 "deportment lessons." "I beg your pardon, but aren't 
 you Sir Lionel Pendragon ?" 
 
 "I am Lionel Pendragon," said the other man the 
 quite young man. 
 
 Mother, you could have knocked me down with the 
 shadow of a moth-eaten feather! 
 
 They both took off their travelling caps. The real 
 Dragon's was in decent taste. The Mock Dragon's 
 displayed an offensive chess-board check. 
 
 "Have you come to say that Miss Lethbridge has been 
 prevented from meeting me ?" asked the real one the 
 R. D., I '11 call him for the moment. 
 
 "I am " It stuck in my throat and would n't go up 
 
 or down, so I compromised which was weak of me, as I 
 always think on principle you 'd better lie all in all or 
 not at all. "I suppose you don't recognize me ?" I mum- 
 bled fluffily. 
 
 "What it 's not possible that you 're Ellaline Leth- 
 bridge!" the R. D. exclaimed, in surprise, which might 
 mean horror of my person or a compliment. 
 
 I gasped like a fish out of water, and wriggled my neck 
 in a silly way, which a charitable man, unaccustomed to 
 women, might take for schoolgirl gawkishness in a spasm 
 of acquiescence. 
 
 Instantly he put out his hand and wrung mine extremely
 
 SETINSILVER 33 
 
 hard. It would have crunched the real Ellaline's rings 
 into her poor little fingers. 
 
 "You must forgive me," he said. "I saw the rose " 
 and he smiled a wonderfully agreeable, undragonlike 
 smile, which put him back to thirty-two "but I was 
 looking out for a very different sort of er young lady." 
 
 "Why?" I asked, losing my presence of mind. 
 
 "I well, really, I don't know why," said he. 
 
 "And I was looking for a very different sort of man," 
 I retorted, feeling idiotically schoolgirlish, and sillier 
 every minute. 
 
 He smiled again then, even more nicely than before, and 
 followed the example I had set. "Why?" he inquired. 
 
 Unlike him, I did know why only too well. But it was 
 difficult to explain. Still, I had to say something or 
 make things worse. "When in doubt play a trump, or 
 tell the truth," I quoted to myself as a precept; and said 
 out aloud that, somehow or other, I 'd thought he would 
 be old. 
 
 "So I am old," he said, "old enough to be your father." 
 When he added that information, he looked as if he would 
 have liked to take it back again, and his face coloured up 
 with a dull, painful red, as if he 'd said something attached 
 to a disagreeable memory. That was what his expression 
 suggested to me; but as I know for a fact that he has not 
 at all a nice, kind character, I suppose in reality what he 
 felt was only a stupid prick of vanity at having inadver- 
 tently given his age away. I nearly blurted out the truth 
 about mine, which would have got me into hot water at 
 once, as Ellaline 's hardly nineteen and I 'm practically 
 twenty-one worse luck for you.
 
 34 SETINSILVER 
 
 By this time the Mock Dragon had walked slowly on, 
 but the brown image in " native " dress had glued himself 
 to the platform near by, too respectful to be aware of my 
 existence. While I was debating whether or no the last 
 speech called for an answer, the R. D. had a sudden 
 thought which gave him an excuse to change the subject. 
 
 "Where 's your chaperon ?" he snapped, with a flash of 
 the eye, which was his first betrayal of the hidden devil 
 within him. 
 
 "She was called away to visit a relative," I answered, 
 promptly; because Ellaline and I had agreed I was to say 
 that; and in a way it was true. 
 
 "You did n't come here alone?" said he. 
 
 "I had to," said I. 
 
 "Then it 's a monstrous thing that Madame de Maluet 
 should have let you," he growled. "I shall write and tell 
 her so." 
 
 "Oh, don't, please don't," I begged, you can guess 
 how anxiously. " She really could rCi help it, and I shall 
 be so sorry to distress her." He was still glaring, and 
 desperation made me crafty. "You would n't refuse the 
 first thing I 've asked you ?" I tried to wheedle him. 
 
 I hoped for Ellaline's sake, of course that I should 
 get another smile; but instead, I got a frown. 
 
 " Now I begin to realize that you are your mother's 
 daughter," said he, in a queer, hard tone. "No, I won't 
 refuse the first thing you ask me. But perhaps you 'd 
 better not consider that a precedent." 
 
 "I won't," said I. He 'd been looking so pleased with 
 me before, as if he 'd found me in a prize package, or won 
 me in a lottery when he 'd expected to draw a blank; but
 
 SET IN SILVER 35 
 
 though he gave in without a struggle to my wheedling, 
 he now looked as if he 'd discovered that I was stuffed with 
 sawdust. My quick, "I won't," did n't seem to encourage 
 him a bit. 
 
 "Well," he said, in a duller tone, "we '11 get out of this. 
 It was very kind of you to come and meet me. I see now 
 I ought n't to have asked it; but to tell the truth, the 
 thought of going to a girls' school, and claiming you " 
 
 "I quite understand," I nipped in. "This is much 
 better. My luggage is all here," I added. "I could n't 
 think where else to send it, as I did n't know what your 
 plans might be." 
 
 At that he looked annoyed again, but luckily, only with 
 himself this time. "I fear I am an ass where women's 
 affairs are concerned," he said. "Of course I ought to 
 have thought about your luggage, and settled every detail 
 for you with Madame de Maluet, instead of trusting to her 
 discretion. Still, it does seem as if she " 
 
 I would n't let him blame Madame; but I couldn't 
 defend her without risking danger for Ellaline and myself, 
 because Madame's arrangements were all perfect, if we 
 hadn't secretly upset them. "I have so little luggage," 
 I broke in, trying to make up with emphasis for irrelevancy. 
 "And Madame considers me quite a grown-up person, I 
 assure you." 
 
 "I suppose you are," he admitted, observing my inches 
 with a worried air. "I ought to have realized; but some- 
 how or other I expected to find a child." 
 
 "I shall be less bother to you than if I were a child,'* 
 I consoled him. 
 
 This did make him smile again, for some reason, as he
 
 36 SET IN SILVER 
 
 replied that he was n't sure. And we were starting 
 to hook ourselves on to the tail end of the dwindling pro- 
 cession, quite on friendly terms, when to my horror that 
 young English cadlet or boundling, which you will 
 strolled calmly out in front of us, and said, "How do you 
 do, Sir Lionel Pendragon ? I 'm afraid you don't remem- 
 ber me. Dick Burden. Anyhow, you '11 recollect my 
 mother and aunt." 
 
 I had forgotten all about the creature, dearest; but there 
 he had been lurking, ready to pounce. And what bad 
 luck that he should know Ellaline's guardian, was n't it ? 
 
 At first I thought maybe he really had had business at 
 the Gare de Lyon, and that I 'd partly misjudged him. 
 And then it flashed into my head that, on the contrary, he 
 did n't really know Sir Lionel, but had overheard the name, 
 and was doing a " bluff " to get introduced to me. Was n't 
 that a conceited idea? But neither was true. At least 
 the latter was n't, I know, and I 'm pretty sure the first 
 wasn't. What I think, is this: that he simply followed 
 me to the Gare de Lyon for the "deviltry" of the thing, 
 and because he 'd nothing better to do. That he hung 
 about in sheer curiosity, to see whom I was meeting; and 
 that he recognized the Dragon as an old acquaintance. 
 I once fondly supposed coincidences were remarkable 
 and rare events, but I 've known ever since I 've known 
 the troubles of life that it 's only agreeable ones which are 
 rare, such as coming across your long-lost millionaire- 
 uncle who 's decided to leave you all his money, just as 
 you 'd made up your mind to commit suicide or marry 
 a Jewish diamond merchant. Disagreeable coincidences 
 sit about on damp clouds ready to fall on you the minute
 
 SET IN SILVER 37 
 
 they think you don't expect them, and they 're more 
 likely to occur than not. That 's my experience. Evi- 
 dently the Dragon did remember Dick's mother and aunt, 
 for the first blankness of his expression brightened into 
 intelligence with the mention of the youth's female belong- 
 ings. He held out his hand cordially, and remarked that 
 of course he remembered Mrs. Burden and Mrs. Senter. 
 As for Dick, he had grown out of all recollection. 
 
 "It was a good many years ago," returned the said 
 Dick, hastening to disprove the slur of youthfulness. 
 " It was just before I went to Sandhurst. But you have n't 
 changed. I knew you at once." 
 
 "On leave, I suppose?" suggested Sir Lionel. 
 
 "No," said Dick, "I 'm not in the army. Failed,. 
 Truth is, I did n't want to get in. Was n't cut out for it. 
 There 's only one profession I care for." 
 
 "What 's that ?" the Dragon was obliged to ask, out of 
 politeness, though I don't think he cared much. 
 
 "The fact is," returned Mr. Burden (a most appro- 
 priate name, according to my point of view), "it 's rather 
 a queer one, or might seem so to you, and I 've promised 
 the mater I won't talk of it unless I do adopt it. And I 'm 
 over here qualifying, now." 
 
 It was easy to see that he hoped he 'd excited our curi- 
 osity; and he must have been disappointed in Sir Lionel's 
 half-hearted "Indeed?" As for me, I tried to make my 
 eyes look like boiled gooseberries, an unenthusiastic fruit, 
 especially when cooked. I was delighted with the Dragon, 
 though, for not introducing him. 
 
 Having said "indeed," Sir Lionel added that we must 
 be getting on luggage to see to; his valet a foreigner,
 
 38 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and more bother than use. I took my cue, and pattered 
 along by my guardian's side, his tall form a narrow yet 
 impassable bulwark between me and Mr. Dick Burden. 
 But Mr. D. B. pattered too, refusing to be thrown off. 
 
 He asked Sir Lionel if he were staying on in Paris; and 
 in the short conversation that followed I picked up morsels 
 of news which had n't been given me yet. It appeared 
 that the Dragon's sister (who would suspect a dragon of 
 sisters?) had wired to Marseilles that she would meet 
 him in Paris, and he "expected to find her at an hotel." 
 He did n't say what hotel, so it was evident Mr. Dick 
 Burden need not hope for an invitation to call. Appar- 
 ently our plans depended somewhat on her, but Sir Lionel 
 "thought we should get away next day at latest." There 
 was nothing to keep him in Paris, and he was in a hurry 
 to reach England. I was glad to hear that, for fear 
 some more coincidences might happen, such as meeting 
 Madame de Maluet or one of the teachers holiday-making. 
 Conscience does make you a coward! I never noticed 
 mine much before. I wish you could take anti- 
 conscience powders, as you do for neuralgia. Would n't 
 they sell like hot cakes ? 
 
 At last Mr. Dick Burden had to go away without get- 
 ting the introduction he wanted, and Sir Lionel was either 
 very absent-minded or else very obstinate not to give it, 
 I 'm not sure which; but if I were a betting character I 
 should bet on the latter. I begin to see that his dragon- 
 ness may be expected to leak out in his attitude toward 
 Woman as a Sex. Already I 've detected the most prim- 
 itive, almost primaeval, ideas in him, which probably he 
 contracted in Bengal. Would you believe it, he insisted
 
 SETINSILVER 39 
 
 on my putting on a veil to travel with ? but I have n't 
 come to that part yet. 
 
 As for Mr. Burden, as I said, he disappeared from our 
 view; but I doubt if we disappeared from his. You may 
 think this is conceited in me, but, as he took off his Panama 
 in saying good-bye, he contrived to peer at me round an 
 unfortified corner of the Dragon, and the look he flung me 
 said more plainly than words: "This is all right, but I 'm 
 hanged if I don't see it through, " or something even more 
 emphatic to that effect. 
 
 Sir Lionel was surprised when he saw my luggage, 
 which we picked up when he 'd claimed his own. 
 
 "I thought young ladies never went anywhere without 
 a dozen boxes," said he. 
 
 "Oh, mamma and I travelled half over Europe with 
 only one trunk and two bags between us," I blurted out. 
 before I stopped to think. Then I wished the floor would 
 yawn and swallow me up. 
 
 He did stare! and his eyes are dreadfully piercing 
 when he stares. They are very nice-looking gray ones; 
 but I can tell you they felt like hatpins. 
 
 "I should have thought you were too young in those 
 days to know anything about luggage," said he. 
 
 That gave me a straw to clutch. "Madame de Maluet 
 has told me a great deal." (So she has, about one thing 
 or another; mostly my own faults.) 
 
 "Oh, I see," he said. It must have seemed funny to 
 him, my saying that about the trunks, as Ellaline's mother 
 died when E. was four. 
 
 He had n't much luggage, either; no golf clubs, or battle- 
 axes, or whatever you play about with in Bengal when
 
 40 SETINSILVER 
 
 you are n't terrorizing the natives. He sent the brown 
 servant off in one cab with our things, and put me in 
 another, into which he also mounted. It did seem funny 
 driving off with him, for when I came to think of it, I was 
 never alone with a man before; but he was gawkier about 
 it than I was. Not exactly shy; I hardly know how to 
 express it, but he could n't help showing that he was out of 
 his element. 
 
 Oh, I forgot to tell you, he 'd shaken hands with the 
 Mock Dragon, and shunted him off just as ruthlessly as 
 he did the boy. "See you in London, sooner or later," 
 said he. As if anyone could want to see such a disagree- 
 able old thing! Yet, perhaps, if I but knew, the Mock 
 Dragon's character may be the nobler of the two. If I 
 were to judge by appearances, I should have liked the 
 real Dragon's looks, and thought from first sight that he 
 was rather a brave, fine, high-principled person, even 
 unselfish. Whereas I know from all Ellaline has told me 
 that his qualities are quite the reverse of these. 
 
 We were going to the Grand Hotel, and driving there 
 he pumped up a few perfunctory sort of questions about 
 school, the way grown-up people who don't understand 
 children talk to little girls. You know: "Do you like 
 your lessons ? What do you do on holidays ? What is 
 your middle name ?" sort of thing. I was afraid I should 
 laugh, so I asked him questions instead; and all the time he 
 seemed to be studying me in a puzzled, surprised way, as 
 if I were a duck that had just stepped out of a chicken egg, 
 or a goblin in a Nonconformist home. (If he keeps on 
 doing this, I shall have to find out what he means by it, 
 or burst.)
 
 SET IN SILVER 41 
 
 I asked him about his sister, as I thought Bengal might 
 be a sore subject, and he appeared to think that I already 
 knew something of her. If Ellaline does know, she forgot 
 to tell me; and I hope other things like that won't be 
 continually cropping up, or my nerves won't stand it. 
 I shall take to throwing spoons and tea-cups. 
 
 He reminded me of her name being Mrs. Norton, and 
 that she 's a widow. He had n't expected her to come over, 
 he said, and he was surprised to get her telegram, but no 
 doubt he 'd find out that she 'd a pretty good reason. 
 And it was nothing to be astonished at, her not meeting 
 him at the Gare de Lyon, for she invariably missed people 
 when she went to railway stations. It had been a char- 
 acteristic of hers since youth. When they were both 
 young they were often in Paris together, for they had 
 French cousins (Ellaline's mother's people, I suppose), 
 and then they stopped at the Grand Hotel. He had n't 
 been there, though, he added, for nearly twenty years; 
 and had been out of England, without coming back, for 
 fifteen. That made him seem old, talking of what hap- 
 pened twenty years ago almost my whole life. Yet 
 he does n't look more than thirty-five at most. I wonder 
 does the climate of Bengal preserve people, like flies in 
 amber ? Perhaps he 's really sixty, and has this unnatural 
 appearance of youth. 
 
 "Does Mrs. Norton know about me?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, of course she does," said he. "I wrote her she 
 must come and live with me when I found I 'd got to 
 
 have " He shut up like a clam, on that, and 
 
 looked so horribly ashamed of himself" that. I burst, 
 out laughing.
 
 42 SET IN SILVER 
 
 "Please don't mind," said I. "I know I 'm an incubus, 
 but I '11 try to be as little trouble as possible." 
 
 "You 're not an incubus," he contradicted me, almost 
 indignantly. "You 're entirely different from what I 
 thought you would be." 
 
 "Oh, then you thought I would be an incubus?" I 
 could n't resist the temptation of retorting. Maybe it was 
 cruel, but there 's no society for the prevention of cruelty 
 to dragons, so it can't be considered wrong in humane 
 circles. 
 
 "Not at all. But I I don't know much about 
 women, especially girls," said he. "And I told you I 
 thought of you as a child." 
 
 "I hope you have n't gone to the trouble of engaging 
 a nurse for me?" I suggested. And if he were cross at 
 being teased, he did n't show it. He said he 'd trusted all 
 such arrangements to his sister. He had n't seen her for 
 many years, but she was good-natured, and he hoped that 
 we would get on. What I principally hoped was that 
 she would n't prove to be of a suspicious nature; for a 
 detective on the hearth would be inconvenient, and women 
 can be so sharp about each other! I 've found that out at 
 Madame de Maluet's; I never would from you, dear. 
 You were n't a cat in any of your previous incarnations. 
 I think you must have "evoluted" from that neat blend- 
 ing of serpent and dove which eventually produces a 
 perfect Parisienne. 
 
 We went into the big hall of the Grand Hotel, where 
 Sir Lionel said in "his day" carriages used to drive in; 
 and suddenly, to my own surprise, I felt gay and excited, 
 as if this were life, and I had begun to live. I did n't
 
 SET IN SILVER 43 
 
 regret having to play Ellaline one bit. Everything seemed 
 great fun. You know, darling, I have n't had much "life," 
 except in you and books, since I was sixteen, and our 
 pennies and jauntings finished up at the same time; 
 though I had plenty before that all sorts of "samples," 
 anyhow. I suppose it must have been the bright, 
 worldly look of the hotel which gave me that tingling 
 sensation, as if a little wild bird had burst into song in 
 my heart. 
 
 Although it 's out of season for Parisians, the hall was full 
 of fashionable-seeming people, mostly Americans and 
 other foreigners. As we came in, a lady rose from a seat 
 near the door. She was small, and the least fashionable or 
 well-dressed person in the room, yet with the air of being 
 satisfied with herself morally. I saw at once she was of the 
 type who considers her church a "home from home"; who 
 dresses her house as if it were a person, and upholsters 
 herself as if she were a sofa. Of course, I knew it was 
 Mrs. Norton, and I was disappointed. I would almost 
 have preferred her to be catty. 
 
 She and her brother had n't seen each other for fifteen 
 years, but they met as calmly as if they had lunched 
 together yesterday. I think, though, that was more her 
 fault than his, for when he held out his hand she lifted it 
 up on a level with her chin to shake; and of course that 
 would have taken the "go" out of a grasshopper. I 
 suppose it would n't have been "good form" to kiss in a 
 hotel hall, but if / retrieved a long-lost brother in any sort 
 of hall, I don't believe I could resist. 
 
 Her hair was so plainly drawn back, it was like a moral 
 influence, and her toque sat up high on her head like a bun
 
 44 SET IN SILVER 
 
 or a travelling pincushion. The only trimming on her 
 dress was buttons, but there were a large family of them. 
 
 Sir Lionel introduced us, and she said she was pleased 
 to meet me. Also, that I was not at all like my 
 mother or father. Then she asked if I had ever been to 
 England; but luckily, before I 'd had a chance to com- 
 promise myself by saying that I 'd lived a few months in 
 London, but had been nowhere else (there 's where our 
 money began to give out), her brother reminded her that I 
 was only four when I left England. 
 
 "Of course, I had forgotten," said Mrs. Norton. "But 
 don't they ever take them over to see the British Museum 
 or the National Gallery ? I should have thought it would 
 be an education with cheap returns." 
 
 "Probably French schoolmistresses believe that their 
 pupils get their money's worth on the French side of the 
 Channel," replied Sir Lionel. 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Norton; and looked at me as if to see 
 how the system had answered. I 'm sure she approved of 
 the gray serge and the sailor hat more than she approved 
 of the girl in them. You see, I don't think she sanctions 
 hair that is n't dark brown. 
 
 We did n't sit down, but talked standing up, Sir Lionel 
 and his sister throwing me words out of politeness now and 
 then. She has a nice voice, though cold as iced water that 
 has been filtered. Her name is Emily. It would bel 
 
 He said he was surprised as well as pleased to get her 
 telegram on arriving at Marseilles, and it was rery good 
 of her to come to Paris and meet him. She said not at all, 
 it was no trouble, but a pleasure, or rather it would be, if 
 it were n't for the sad reason that brought her.
 
 SET IN SILVER 45 
 
 "Why, is anybody dead?" asked Sir Lionel, looking as 
 if he were running over a list in his head, but could n't 
 call up a name which concerned him personally. 
 
 "There 's been a thinning off among old friends lately, 
 I 'm sorry to say; I 've told you about most of them, I 
 think, in postscripts," replied Mrs. Norton. "But it 
 was n't their loss, poor dears, which brought me over. 
 It was the fire." 
 
 "What fire?" her brother wanted to know. 
 
 "Why, your fire. Surely you must have seen about it 
 in to-day's London papers ?" 
 
 "To-day's London papers won't get to Marseilles till 
 to-morrow, and I have n't been long ertbugh in Paris to see 
 one yet," explained Sir Lionel. "Have I had a serious 
 fire, and what has been burnt ?" He spoke as coolly as if 
 it were the question of a mutton chop. 
 
 "Part of the house," returned Mrs. Norton, not even 
 trying to break it to him. 
 
 "I hope not the old part," said he. 
 
 "No, it is the new wing. But that seemed to me such a 
 pity. Such a beautiful bathroom, hot and cold, spray and 
 shower, quite destroyed; and a noble linen closet, heated 
 throughout with pipes, and fully stocked." 
 
 "The bathroom may have been early Pullman, and the 
 linen closet late German Lloyd, my dear Emily; but the 
 rest of the house is Tudor, and can't be replaced," said 
 Sir Lionel; and I was sure, as he looked down at his sister, 
 of a thing I 'd already suspected: that he has a sense of 
 humour. That 's a modern improvement with which 
 you would n't expect a dragon to be fitted; but I begin to 
 see that this is an elaborate and complicated Dragon.
 
 46 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Some people are Pharisees about their sense of humour, 
 and keep harping on it till you wish it were a live wire and 
 would electrocute them. He would rather be ashamed 
 of his, I fancy, and yet it must have amused him, and 
 made him feel good chums with himself, away out in 
 Bengal. 
 
 Mrs. Norton said that Warings had very handsome 
 Tudor dining-rooms in one or two of their model houses, 
 so nothing was irrevocable nowadays; but she was pleased, 
 if he was, that only the modern wing was injured. It had 
 happened yesterday morning, just too late for the news- 
 papers, which must have annoyed the editors; and she 
 had felt that it would be best to undertake the journey to 
 Paris, and consult about plans, as it might make a dif- 
 ference (here she glanced at me) ; but she had n't mentioned 
 the fire when wiring, because things seemed worse in 
 telegrams, and besides, it would have been a useless 
 expense. No doubt it had been stupid of her, but she 
 had fancied he would certainly see it in the paper, with 
 all details, and therefore guess why she was meeting him. 
 
 "We have nowhere to take Miss Lethbridge," said she, 
 " since Graylees Castle will be overrun with workmen for 
 some time to come. I did n't know but you might feel it 
 would be best, after all, for us to put her again in charge 
 of her old schoolmistress for a few weeks." 
 
 If hair could really rise, mine would have instantly 
 cast out every hairpin, as if they were so many evil spirits, 
 and have stood out all around my head like Strumpel- 
 peter's. Yet there was nothing I could say. If I were 
 mistress of a dozen languages, I should have had to be 
 speechless in every one. But I saw Sir Lionel looking at
 
 SET IN SILVER 47 
 
 me, and I hastily gave him a silent treatment with my eyes. 
 It had the most satisfactory effect. 
 
 "No, I don't think we will take her back to Madame 
 de Maluet's," said he. Madame may have made other 
 plans for the holiday season. Perhaps she is going 
 away." 
 
 "I 'm sure she is," said I. "She is going to visit her 
 mother-in-law's aunt." 
 
 Sir Lionel was still looking at me, lost in thought. (I 
 forget if I mentioned that he has nice eyes ? I have n't 
 time to look back and see if I did, now. I 'm scribbling 
 as fast as I can. We shall soon land, and I want to post 
 this at Dover, if I can get an English stamp "off" some- 
 one, as "Sissy" Williams, our only British neighbour, 
 says.) 
 
 "How would you like a motor-car trip?" Sir Lionel 
 asked abruptly. 
 
 The relief from suspense was almost too great, and I 
 nearly jumped down his throat, so, after all, it would have 
 been my own fault if the Dragon had eaten me. "I 
 should adore it!" I said. 
 
 "My dear!" protested Mrs. Norton, indulgently. "One 
 adores Heavenly Beings." 
 
 "I'm not sure a motor-car isn't a heavenly being," 
 said I, "though perhaps without capitals." 
 
 The Dragon smiled, but she looked awfully shocked, 
 and no doubt blamed Madame de Maluet. 
 
 "I 've a forty-horse Mercedes promised to be ready on 
 my arrival," said Sir Lionel, still reflective. "You know, 
 Emily, the little twelve-horse-power car I had sent out to 
 East Bengal was a Mercedes. If I could drive her, I can
 
 48 SET IN SILVER 
 
 drive a bigger car. Everybody says it 's easier. And 
 young Nick has learned to be a first-rate mechanic." 
 
 I suppose young Nick must be the Dragon's pet name 
 for the bronze image. What fun that he should be a 
 chauffeur! Fancy an Indian Idol squatted on the front 
 seat of an up-to-date automobile. But when you come 
 to think of it, there have been other gods in cars. I only 
 hope, if I 'm to be behind him, this one won't behave like 
 Juggernaut. He wears almost too many clothes, for he is 
 the type that would look over-dressed in a bangle. 
 
 "We might have an eight or ten weeks' run about Eng- 
 land," the Dragon went on, "while things are being made 
 straight at Graylees. It would be good to see something 
 of the blessed old island again before settling down." 
 
 "One would think you were quite pleased at the fire, 
 Lionel," remarked his sister, who evidently believes it 
 wrong to look on the bright side of things, and right to 
 expect the worst like an undertaker calling for a client 
 before he 's dead. 
 
 " What is, is," returned he. " We may as well make the 
 best of it. You would n't mind a motor tour, would you, 
 Emily?" 
 
 "I would go if it were my duty, and you desired it," 
 she said, looking as if she ought to be on stained glass, 
 with half a halo, "only I am hardly young enough to con- 
 sider motoring as a pleasure." 
 
 "There aren't many years between us," replied her 
 brother, too polite to say whether he were in front or 
 behind, "but I confess I do regard it as a pleasure." 
 
 "A man is different," she admitted. 
 
 Thank goodness, he is!
 
 SET IN SILVER 49 
 
 Then they talked more about the fire, which, it seems, 
 happened through something being wrong with a flue, 
 in a room where Mrs. N. had told a servant to build a fire 
 on account of dampness. It must be a wonderful old 
 place from what they both let drop. (I told you in 
 another letter how Sir Lionel had inherited it, about the 
 same time as his title, or a little later. The estate, though, 
 comes from the mother's side, and her people were from 
 Warwickshire.) His cool British way of saying and 
 taking things is a good deal on the surface, I think. He 
 would have hated us to see it, but I 'm sure he worked him- 
 self up to quite a pitch of joyful excitement over the idea 
 of the motor trip, as it developed in his mind. And it is 
 splendid, is n't it, darling ? 
 
 You know how sorry you were we had n't been more 
 economical, and made our money last long enough to 
 travel in England, instead of having to stop short after a 
 splash in London. Now I 'm going to see bits in spite of 
 all, until I 'm "called away," and I '11 try my best, in 
 letters, to make you see what I do. Ellaline would n't 
 have enjoyed such a tour, for she hates the country, or 
 any place where it is n't suitable to wear high heels and 
 picture hats. But I oh, I! Twenty dragons on the 
 same seat of the car with me could n't prevent my revelling 
 in it though it may be cut short for me at any minute. 
 As for Mrs. Norton 
 
 But the stewardess has just said we shall be in, in five 
 minutes. I had to come down to the ladies' cabin with 
 Mrs. N. Now I have n't time to tell you any more, except 
 that they both (Sir L. and his sister, I mean) wanted 
 to get to England as soon as possible. I know she was
 
 50 SET IN SILVER 
 
 disappointed not to fling her brother's ward back to 
 Madame de Maluet, and probably would n't have come 
 over to Paris if she had n't hoped to bring it off; but she 
 resigns herself to things easily when a man says they 're 
 best. It was Sir Lionel who wanted particularly to cross 
 to-night, though he did n't urge it; but she said, "Very 
 well, dear. I think you 're right." 
 
 So here we are. A large bell is ringing, and so is my 
 heart. I mean it 's beating. Good-bye, dearest. I '11 
 write again to-morrow or rather to-day, for it 's a 
 lovely sunrise, like a good omen when we get settled 
 somewhere. I believe we 're going to a London hotel. 
 Yes, stewardess. Oh, I ought to have said that to her, 
 instead of writing it to you. She interrupted. 
 
 Love love. 
 
 Your AUDRIE, 
 Their ELLALINE.
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Ritz Hotel, London, July 8th 
 
 ANGEL: May your wings never moult! I hope you 
 did n't think me extravagant wiring yesterday, instead 
 of writing. I was too busy baking the yeasty dough of 
 my impressions to write a letter worth reading; and when 
 one has practically no money, what 's the good of being 
 economical ? You know the sole point of sympathy I 
 ever touched with " Sissy " Williams was his famous speech : 
 " If I can't earn five hundred a year, it 's not worth while 
 worrying to earn anything"; which excused his settling 
 down as a "remittance man," in the top flat, at forty 
 francs a month. 
 
 Dearest, the Dragon has n't drag-ged once, yet! And, 
 by the way, till he does so, I think I won't call him Dragon 
 again. It 's rather gratuitous, as I 'm eating his bread 
 or rather, his perfectly gorgeous a la cartes, and am 
 literally smeared with luxury, from my rising up until my 
 lying down, at his expense. 
 
 I know, and you know, because I repeated it word for 
 word, that Ellaline said she thought he must have been 
 well paid for undertaking to "guardian" her, as his hard, 
 selfish type does nothing for nothing; and she has always 
 seemed so very rich (quite the heiress of the school, envied 
 51
 
 52 SET IN SILVER 
 
 for her dresses and privileges) that there might be temp- 
 tations for an unscrupulous man to pick up a few plums 
 here and there. But well, of course Ellaline ought to 
 know, after being his ward ever since she was four, and 
 hearing things on the best authority about the horrid way 
 he treated her mother, as well as suffering from his cruel 
 heartlessness all these years. Never a letter written to 
 herself; never the least little present; never a wish to hear 
 from her, or see her photograph; all business carried 
 on between himself and Madame de Maluet, who is too 
 discreet to prejudice a ward against a guardian. And 
 I I saw him only day before yesterday for the first time. 
 What can I know about him ? I 've no experience in 
 reading characters of men. The dear old Abbe and a 
 few masters in the school are the only ones I have a bow- 
 ing acquaintance with except "Sissy" Williams, who 
 does n't count. It 's dangerous to trust to one's instincts, 
 no doubt, for it 's so difficult to be sure a wish is n't dis- 
 guising itself as instinct, in rouge and a golden wig. 
 
 But then, there 's the man's profile, which is of the 
 knight-of-old, Crusader pattern, a regular hook to hang 
 respect upon, though I 'd be doing it injustice if I let you 
 imagine it 's shaped like a hook. It is n't; it 's quite beau- 
 tiful; and you find yourself furtively, semi-consciously 
 sketching it in air with your forefinger as you look at it. 
 It suggests race, and noblesse oblige, and a long line of 
 soldier ancestors, and that sort of thing, such as you used 
 to say survived visibly among the English aristocracy and 
 English peasantry (not in the mixed-up middle classes) 
 more markedly than anywhere else. That must mean 
 some correspondence in character, must n't it ? Or can it
 
 SET IN SILVER 5$ 
 
 be a mask, handed down by noble ancestry to cover up 
 moral defects in a degenerate descendant ? 
 
 Am I gabbling school-girl gush, or am I groping toward 
 light? You know what I want to say, anyhow. The 
 impression Sir Lionel Pendragon makes on me would be 
 different if he had n't been described by Ellaline. I 
 should have supposed him quite easy to read, if he 'd 
 happened upon me, unheralded as a big ship looms 
 over a little bark, on the high sea. I 'd have thought 
 him a simple enough, straightforward character in that 
 case. I should have put him in the class with his own 
 Tudor castle not that I 've ever yet seen a Tudor 
 castle, except in photographs or on postcards. But I 'd 
 have said to myself: If he 'd been born a house instead of 
 a man, he 'd have been built centuries and centuries ago, 
 by strong barons who knew exactly what they wanted,, 
 and grabbed it. He 'd have been a castle, an early Tudor 
 castle, battlemented and surrounded by a moat, fortified, 
 of course, and impregnable to the enemy, unless they 
 treacherously blew him up. He would have had several 
 secret rooms, but they would contain chests of treasure, 
 not nasty skeletons. 
 
 Now you understand exactly what I 'd be thinking 
 of the alleged Dragon, if it were n't for Ellaline. But as 
 it is, I don't know what to think of him. That 's why I 
 describe him as elaborate and complicated, because, I 
 suppose, he must be totally different inside from what he 
 seems outside. 
 
 Anyhow, I don't care it 's lovely being at the Ritz. 
 And we 're in the newspapers this morning, Emily and I 
 shining by reflected light; mine doubly reflected, like the
 
 54 SET IN SILVER 
 
 earth's light shining on to the moon, and from that being 
 passed on to something else some poor little chipped 
 meteorite strayed out of the Milky Way. 
 
 It was Mrs. Norton who discovered the article about 
 Sir Lionel half a column in the Morning Post 
 and she sent out for lots of other papers without saying 
 anything to her brother, for according to her he 
 "hates that sort of thing." 
 
 I did n't have time to tell you in my last that she was 
 sick crossing the Channel (though it was as smooth as if 
 it had been ironed, and only a few wrinkles left in), but 
 apparently she considers it good form for a female to be 
 slightly ill in a ladylike way on boats; so, of course, she is. 
 And as I was decent to her, she decided to like me better 
 than she thought she would at first. For some reason 
 they both seemed prejudiced against me (I mean against 
 Ellaline) to begin with. I can't think why; and slowly, 
 with unconcealable surprise, they are changing their minds. 
 Changing one's mind keeps one's soul nice and clean and 
 fresh; so theirs will be well aired, owing to me. 
 
 Emily has become quite resigned to my existence, and 
 doles me out small confidences. She has not a rich nature, 
 to begin with, and it has never been fertilized much, so it 's 
 rather sterile; but no noxious weeds, anyhow, as there 
 may be in Sir Lionel's more generous and cultivated soil. 
 I think I shall get on with her pretty well after all, espe- 
 cially motoring, when I can take her with plenty of ozone. 
 She is a little afraid of her brother, though he 's five years 
 younger than she (I 've now learned), but extremely 
 proud of him; and it was quite pathetic, her cutting out 
 the stuff about him in the papers, this morning, and show-
 
 SET IN SILVER 55 
 
 ing every bit to me, before pasting all in a book she has 
 been keeping for years, entirely concerned with Sir Lionel. 
 She says she will show that to me, too, some day, but I 
 must n't tell him. As if I would! 
 
 But about the newspapers. She did n't order any 
 Radical ones, because she said they were always down on 
 the aristocracy, and unjust as well as stupid; but she got 
 one by mistake, and you 've no idea how delighted the 
 poor little woman was when it praised her brother up to 
 the skies. Then she said there were some decent Radicals, 
 after all. 
 
 Of course, one knows the difference between " Mirabeau 
 judged by his friends and Mirabeau judged by the people," 
 and can make allowances (if one's digestion 's good) for 
 points of view. But there 's one thing certain, whether 
 he 's angel or devil, or something hybrid between the two, 
 Sir Lionel Pendragon is a man of importance in the Public 
 Eye. I wonder if Ellaline realizes his importance in that 
 way ? I can't think she does, or she would have mentioned 
 it, as it need n't have interfered with her opinion of his 
 private character. 
 
 It 's a little through Emily, but mostly from the news- 
 paper cuttings, that I 've got my knowledge of what he 's 
 done, and been, and is expected to be. 
 
 He 's forty. I know that, because the Morning Post 
 gave the date of his birth, and he 's rather a swell, 
 although only a baronet, and not even that till a short 
 time ago. It appears that the family on both sides goes 
 back into the mists of antiquity, in the days when legend, 
 handed down by word of mouth (can you hand things out 
 of your mouth ? Sounds rude), was the forerunner of his-
 
 50 SET IN SILVER 
 
 tory. His father's ancestors are supposed to be descended 
 from King Arthur; hence the "Pendragon"; though, 
 I suppose, if it 's true, King Arthur must really have been 
 married several times, as say the vulgar records of which 
 Tennyson very properly takes no notice. There have 
 been dukes and earls in the family, but they have some- 
 how disappeared, perhaps because in those benighted 
 days there were no American heiresses to keep them up. 
 
 It seems that Sir Lionel was a soldier to begin with, 
 and was dreadfully wounded in some frontier fight in 
 India when he was very young. He nearly lost the use 
 of his left arm, and gave up the army; but he got the 
 Victoria Cross. Ellaline did n't say a word about that. 
 Maybe she does n't know. After I 'd read his "dossier" 
 in the paper, I could n't resist asking him at lunch what 
 he had done to deserve the V. C. 
 
 "Nothing to deserve it," he answered, looking surprised. 
 
 "To get it, then ? " I twisted my question round. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know almost forget. Pulled some 
 silly ass out of a hole, I believe," said he 
 
 That 's what you get for asking this sort of Englishman 
 questions about his past. I thought it was only widows 
 with auburn hair you must n't talk to about their pasts. 
 
 "A grateful Government" (according to the Morning 
 Post) "sent young Pendragon, at the age of twenty-five, 
 to East Bengal, as private secretary to Sir John Hurley, 
 who was lieutenant-governor at that time"; and it's 
 an ill Governor, so to speak, who blows no one anj good. 
 Sir John's liver was so tired of Bengal, that he had to take 
 it away, and Lieutenant Pendragon (as he vras then) 
 looked after things till another man could arrire. He
 
 SETINSILVER 57 
 
 looked after them so brilliantly, that when the next lieu- 
 tenant-governor did something silly, and was asked to 
 resign, our incipient Sir Lionel was invited to take on the 
 job. He was only thirty, and so he has been lieutenant- 
 governor for ten years. Now he 's going to see whether 
 he likes being a baronet better, and having castles and 
 motor-cars. All the papers I saw praised him tremen- 
 dously, and said that in a crisis which might have been 
 disastrous he had averted a catastrophe by his remarkable 
 strength of character and presence of mind. I suppose 
 that was the time when the other papers accused him of 
 abominable cruelties. I wonder which was right? Per- 
 haps I shall be able to judge, sooner or later, if I watch at 
 the loopholes of his character like a cat watching for a 
 mouse to come out for a walk. 
 
 As for money, if one can believe newspapers, he has 
 plenty without shaking pennies from the slot of Ellaline 
 Lethbridge's bank, and was fairly well off even before he 
 came in for his title or his castle. However, as a very 
 young man, he may have been poor about the time 
 he went into guardianship. 
 
 By the way, the left arm seems all right now. Anyhow, 
 he uses it as arms are meant to be used, so far as I can see, 
 so evidently it improved with time. 
 
 The papers tell about his coming back to England, and 
 his Warwickshire castle, and the fire, and Mrs. Norton 
 giving up her house in some county or other; I 've 
 already forgotten which to live with her "distinguished 
 brother." Also, they say that he has a ward, whose 
 mother was a relative of the family, and whose father 
 was the Honourable Frederic Lethbridge, so well known
 
 58 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and popular in society during the "late eighties." Ellaline 
 was born in 1891. What had become of him, I 'd like to 
 know? Perhaps he died before she was born. She has 
 told me that she can't remember him, but that 's about all 
 she has ever said of her father. 
 
 We are to stay at the Ritz until we start off on the motor 
 trip, which is actually going to happen, though I was 
 afraid it was too good to be true. The new car won't be 
 ready for a week, though. I am sorry, but Mrs. Norton 
 is n't. She is afraid she will be killed, and thinks it will 
 be a messy sort of death to die. Besides, she likes London. 
 She says her brother will be "overwhelmed with invi- 
 tations"; but he hates society, and loathes being lionized. 
 Imagine the man smothered under stacks of perfumed 
 notes, as Tarpeia was under the shields and bracelets! 
 Emily has not lived in London, because she wanted to be 
 in a place where she particularly valued the vicar and the 
 doctor; but she has given them up for her brother now, 
 and is only going to write her symptoms, spiritual and 
 physical. She enjoys church more than anything else, but 
 thinks it will be her duty to take me about a little while 
 we 're in town, as her brother is sure not to, because 
 he spurns women, and is not interested in anything 
 they do. 
 
 I suppose she must know; and yet, at lunch yesterday, 
 he asked if we were too tired, or if we should like to "do 
 a few theatres." I said because I simply had to spare 
 them a shock later that I was afraid I had n't any- 
 thing nice to wear. I felt myself go red for it was a 
 sort of disgrace to Ellaline but he did n't seem as much 
 surprised as Mrs. Norton did. Her eyebrows went up;
 
 SET IN SILVER 59 
 
 but he only said of course school-girls never had smart 
 frocks, and I must buy a few dresses at once. 
 
 One evening gown would be enough for a young girl, 
 Mrs. Norton said, but he did n't agree with her. He said 
 he had n't thought about it, but now that it occurred to 
 him, he was of opinion that women should have plenty of 
 nice things. Then, when she told him, rather hurriedly, 
 that she would choose me something ready made at a good 
 shop in Oxford Street, he remarked that he 'd always 
 understood Bond Street was the place. 
 
 "Not for school-girls," explained dear Emily, who is 
 a canny person. 
 
 "She isn't a school-girl now. That 's finished," said 
 Sir Lionel. And as she thinks him a tin god on wheels, 
 she ceased to argue. 
 
 By the by, he has the air of hating to call me by name. 
 He says "Miss Lethbridge," in a curious, stiff kind of way, 
 when he 's absolutely obliged to give me a label; otherwise 
 he compromises with "you," to which he confines himself 
 when possible. It 's rather odd, and can't be an accident. 
 The only reason I can think of is that he may feel it is 
 really his duty to call me "Ellaline." 
 
 I promised to write to Ellaline, as soon as I 'd 
 anything to tell worth telling; and I suppose I must do it 
 to-day; yet I dread to, and can't make up my mind to 
 begin. I don't like to praise a person whom she regards 
 as a monster; still, I 've nothing to say against him; and 
 I 'm sure she '11 be cross if I don't run him down. I 
 think I shall state facts baldly. When I get instalments of 
 allowance intended for Ellaline, of course I am to 
 send the money to her, except just enough not to be
 
 60 SET IN SILVER 
 
 noticeably penniless. I 'm to address her as Mademoiselle 
 Leonie de Nesville, and send letters to Poste Restante, 
 because, while I 'm known as Miss Lethbridge, it might 
 seem queer if I posted envelopes directed to a person of my 
 own name. It was Ellaline who suggested that, not I. 
 She thought of everything. Though she 's such a child 
 in some ways, she 's marvellous at scheming. 
 
 I really can't think yet what I shall say to her. It 's 
 worrying me. I feel guilty, somehow, I don't know why. 
 
 Mrs. Norton suggested taking me out shopping and 
 sight-seeing this afternoon. Sir Lionel proposed going 
 with us. His sister was astonished, and so was I, espe- 
 cially after what she had said about his not being interested 
 in women's affairs. " Just to make sure that you take my 
 tip about Bond Street," he remarked. "And Bond Street 
 used to amuse me when I was twenty. I think it will 
 amuse me now to see how it and I have changed." 
 
 So we are going, all three. Rather awful about the 
 gray serge and sailor hat, is n't it ? I felt self-respecting in 
 them at Versailles, and even in Paris, because there I was 
 a singing teacher; in other words, nobody. But in London 
 I 'm supposed to be an heiress. And here, at the Ritz, 
 such beautiful beings come to lunch, in dresses which 
 they have evidently been poured into with consummate 
 skill and incredible expense. 
 
 I tasted Peche Melba to-day, for the first time. It made 
 me wish for you. But it did n't seem to go at all with gray 
 serge and a cotton blouse. I ought to have been a Gor- 
 geous Being, with silk linings. 
 
 How am I to support the shopping ordeal ? Supposing 
 Mrs, Norton chooses me things (oh horror!). They 're
 
 SETINSILVER 61 
 
 sure to be hideous, but they may be costly. As it says in 
 an English society paper which Madame de Maluet takes : 
 "What should A. do?" 
 
 If only Telepathy were a going concern, you would 
 answer that Hard Case for 
 
 Your poor, puzzled 
 
 "A.," ALIAS "E." 
 
 P. S. Nothing more heard or seen of the White Girl's 
 Burden, Richard of that ilk. I was afraid of his turning 
 up at the Grand Hotel in Paris, or even at the station to 
 "see us off," but he didn't. He has disappeared into 
 space, and is welcome to the whole of it. I should nearly 
 have forgotten him, if I did n't wonder sometimes what his 
 mysterious profession is.
 
 VI 
 
 SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL 
 P. R. O'HAGAN, AT DROITA, EAST BENGAL 
 
 Ritz Hotel, London, July 8th 
 
 MY DEAH PAT: You were right, I was wrong. It is 
 good to be in England again. Your prophecy has come 
 true. The dead past has pretty well buried its dead. 
 A few dry bones show under the surface here and there. 
 I let them lie. Is thy servant a dog, that he should dig 
 up buried bones! 
 
 As you know, I was ass enough to dread arriving in 
 Paris. I dreaded it throughout the whole voyage. When 
 I got to Marseilles, I found a wire from Emily, saying she 
 would meet me in Paris. Ass again! I had an idea she 
 was putting herself to that trouble with the kindly wish 
 to "stand by," and take my thoughts off old days. But 
 I might have known better, knowing that good, practical 
 little soul. She had quite another object. Came to 
 break the news of a fire at Gray lees; but it seems not to 
 have done any serious damage, except to have wiped out 
 a few modern frills. They can easily be tacked on again. 
 I 'm glad it was no worse, for I love Gray lees. I might 
 have turned out a less decent sort of chap than I am if it 
 had n't been for the prospect of inheriting it sooner or later. 
 One has to live up to certain things, and Graylees was an 
 incentive.
 
 SETINSILVER 63 
 
 You asked me to tell you if Emily had changed. Well, 
 she has. It 's eighteen years since you saw her; fifteen since 
 I did. I must tell you honestly, you 'd have no sentimen- 
 tal regrets if you could see her now. You will remember, 
 if you 're not too gallant, that she was three years older 
 than you; the three seem to have stretched to a dozen. 
 Luckily, you did n't let Norton's snatching Emily from 
 under your nose prey upon cheek or heart. Nothing is 
 damaged. You are sound and whole, and that is why 
 your friendship has been such a boon to me. You have 
 saved me from tilting against many windmills. 
 
 I suppose you '11 think I 'm "preambling" now, to put 
 off the evil moment of telling you about Ellaline de 
 Nesville's girl. But no. For once you 're mistaken in me. 
 After all, it is n't an evil moment. I 'm surprised at my- 
 self, doubly surprised at the girl; and both surprises are 
 agreeable ones. 
 
 I don't ask you if you remember Ellaline; for nobody 
 who ever saw her could forget her; atleast, so it seems to me, 
 after all the years, and all the changes in myself. As I 
 am now, hers is the last type with which I should 
 fall in love, provided I were fool enough to lose my 
 head for anyone. Yet I can't wonder at the adoration I 
 gave her. She was exactly the sort of girl to call out 
 a boy's love, and she had all mine, poor foolish wretch 
 that I was. There 's nothing more pathetic, I think, at 
 this distance, than a boy's passionate purity in his first 
 love unless it 's his disillusionment; for disillusion does 
 no nature good. It would have done mine great harm 
 if I had n't had a friend like you to groan and grumble to. 
 
 You understand how I 've always felt about this child
 
 64 SETINSILVER 
 
 she wished me to care for. I was certain that Ellaline 
 Number 2 would grow up as like Ellaline Number 1 as this 
 summer's rose is like last summer's, which bloomed on the 
 same bush. 
 
 At four years old the little thing undoubtedly had a 
 dollish resemblance to her mother. I thought I remem- 
 bered that she had the first Ellaline's great dark eyes, 
 full of incipient coquetry, and curly black lashes, which 
 the little flirt already knew how to use, by instinct. The 
 same sort of mouth, too, which to look at makes a boy 
 believe in a personal Cupid, and a man in a personal devil. 
 I had a dim recollection of chestnut-brown hair, falling 
 around a tiny face shaped like Ellaline's; "heart-shape" 
 we used to call it, Emily and I, when we were both under 
 our little French cousin's thumb, in the oldest days of 
 all, before even Emily began to find her out. 
 
 I wonder if a child sheds its first hair, like its first teeth ? 
 I 've never given much thought to .infantine phenomena 
 of any kind ; still, I 'm inclined to believe now that there 
 must be such cases. Of course, we know a type of blonde, 
 nee brunette; for instance, Mrs. Senter, young Burden's 
 fascinating aunt, whom we suspected of having turned 
 blond in a single night (by the way, whom should I run 
 across in Paris but Dicky, grown up more or less since he 
 chaperoned his female belongings in the Far East). But 
 I 'm not talking of the Mrs. Senters of the world; I 'm 
 talking of Ellaline's unexpected daughter. She has 
 changed almost incredibly between the ages of four and 
 nineteen. 
 
 Before I knew Emily intended meeting me in Paris, I 
 wrote the school-ma'am asking that my ward might be sent,
 
 SET IN SILVER 65 
 
 well chaperoned, to the Gare de Lyon. It was bad enough 
 to have to face a modern young female, adorned with all 
 the latest improvements and parlour tricks. It would 
 have been worse to face several dozens of these creatures 
 in their lair; therefore, I funked collecting my ward at 
 Versailles. I was to know her by a rose pinned on her 
 frock in case she 'd altered past recognition. It was well, 
 as things turned out, that I 'd made the suggestion, other- 
 wise the girl would have had to go back to Versailles, like 
 an unclaimed parcel; and that would have been bad, as 
 she had no chaperon. Something had happened to the 
 lady, or to the lady's relatives. I almost forget what, now. 
 Instead of the dainty little Tanagra figure in smart 
 French frills, which I expected, there was a tall, beautiful 
 young person, with the bearing of an Atalanta, and the 
 clothes of a Quakeress. She tacked my name on to the 
 wrong man, or I should have let her go, in spite of the rose, 
 so different was she from what I expected. And you '11 
 be amused to hear that her idea of Lionel Pendragon was 
 embodied by old "Hannibal" Jones, who got into my 
 train at Marseilles. He 's taken to parting his name in the 
 middle now, and is General Wellington- Jones. She ought 
 to have known my age approximately, or could have 
 learned it if she cared to bother; but I suppose to nine- 
 teen, forty might as well be sixty. That 's a thing to 
 remember, if one feels the sap pulsing in one's branches, 
 just to remind one that after all it 's not spring, but autumn. 
 And at the present moment, by the way, I 'm not sure that 
 I shan't need this kind of taking down a peg, for I am feel- 
 ing so young that I think I must be growing old. I have 
 begun to value what 's left me of youth; to take it out
 
 66 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and look at it in all lights, like a fruit which must be gloated 
 over before it decays and that 's a fatal sign, eh ? I have 
 the most extraordinary interest in life, which I attribute 
 to the new motor-car which will be finished and ready to 
 use in a few days; also to the thought that Graylees is 
 my own. 
 
 But I 'm wandering away from the girl. 
 
 She is as unlike Ellaline de Nesville as one beautifully 
 bound first volume of a human document can be from 
 another equally attractive. "First volume of a human 
 document " is n't inexpressive of a young girl, is it ? 
 Heaven knows what this one may be by the time the second 
 and third volumes are ready for publication ; but at present 
 one turns over the leaves with pleased surprise. There 's 
 something original and charming in each new page. 
 
 Her first hair must have been shed, for the present lot 
 and there is a lot! is of a bright, yellowy brown; 
 looks like a child's hair, somehow. There are little rings 
 and kinks about it which I take to have been put there by 
 the curling-tongs of nature, though I may be mistaken. 
 And I suppose I must have deceived myself about the 
 child's eyes, for they are not black, but of a grayish hazel, 
 which can look brown or violet at night. She is a tall 
 young thing, slim and straight as a sapling, with frank, 
 honest manners, which are singularly engaging. I look 
 at her in amazement and interest, and find her looking at 
 me with an expression which I am not able to make out. 
 I hardly dare let myself go in liking her, for fear of dis- 
 appointment. She seems too good to be true, too good 
 to last. I keep wondering what ancestress of Ellaline de 
 Nesville's, or Fred Lethbridge's, is gazing out of those
 
 SET IN SILVER 67 
 
 azure windows which are this girl's eyes. If Fred's soul, 
 or Ellaline's, peeps from behind the clear, bright panes, it 
 contrives to keep itself well hidden so far. But I 
 expect anything. 
 
 I had no notion until now that a young woman could 
 be a delightful "pal" for a man, especially a man of my 
 age. Perhaps this is my ignorance of the sex (for I admit 
 I locked up the book of Woman, and never opened it 
 again, since the chapter of Ellaline), or it may be that girls 
 have changed since the " brave days when we were twenty- 
 one." At that remote epoch, as far as I can discover by 
 blowing off the dust from faded souvenirs, one either made 
 love to girls, or one did n't. They were there to dance 
 with and flirt with, and go on the river with, not to talk 
 politics to, or exchange opinions of the universe. They 
 the prettiest ones would have thought that valuable 
 time was being wasted in such discussions. Yet here is 
 this girl, not twenty, a child fresh from school a French 
 school, at that radiant with the power of her youth, her 
 beauty, her femininity; yet she seems actually interested 
 in problems of life unconnected with love affairs. She 
 appears to like talking sense, and she has humour, far 
 more subtle than the mere, kittenish sense of fun which 
 belongs to her years or lack of them. I dreaded the 
 responsibility of her, but I dreaded much more being bored 
 by her, flirted with by her. I 'm hanged if I could have 
 stood that from the kind of girl I was prepared to see; but 
 as I said, I 've found a "pal" if I dared believe in her. 
 Instead of avoiding my ward's society, and shoving it on to 
 Emily, as I intended, I excuse myself to myself for contriv- 
 ing pretexts to bask in it.
 
 68 SETINSILVER 
 
 To-day, for instance, what do you think I did ? A 
 shopping expedition was in question. Emily, who never 
 had much taste in dress, and now clothes herself as if in 
 punishment for sin, seems to know when other women are 
 badly turned out. She thinks it right that young girls 
 should be simply dressed, but considers that in the case 
 of Ellaline simplicity has been carried too far. You see, 
 she does n't know what you and I know about that wretched 
 fellow Lethbridge's end, and she believes his daughter 
 has plenty of money, or will have, on coming of age. 
 Naturally, I don't undeceive her. Emily is a good soul, 
 but over-conscientious in questions of money, and if she 
 knew the truth she might be inclined to hold the purse- 
 strings tight. She might even be tempted to hint some- 
 thing distressing to this poor girl, if the child vexed her 
 by any thoughtless little extravagance; whereas I would n't 
 for a good deal have Ellaline's daughter guess she owes 
 anything to me. 
 
 Emily offered to choose frocks for Miss Lethbridge; 
 whereupon that young lady cast such a comical glance of 
 despair at me a glance which I think was involuntary 
 that it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. 
 I saw so well what was in her mind! And if you will 
 believe me, O'Hagan, I volunteered to go with them. 
 
 Having committed myself, I had all the sensations of a 
 fly caught on a sheet of "Tanglefoot," or a prisoner of 
 war chained to a Roman chariot; but in the end I enjoyed 
 myself hugely. Nothing better has happened to me since 
 I used to be taken to look at the toyshops the day before 
 Christmas. No, not even my first pantomime could beat 
 this as an experience !
 
 SETINSILVER 69 
 
 Emily's economical soul clamoured for Oxford Street. 
 I stood out for Bond, and got my way. (You will grin here. 
 You say I always do get my way.) My idea was to make 
 of myself a kind of Last Resort, or Court of Appeal. I 
 meant to let Emily advise, but to sweep her aside if she 
 perpetrated atrocities. The first shop, however, went to 
 my head. It was one of those where you walk into a kind 
 of drawing-room with figurines, or whatever you call 
 them slender, headless ladies in, model dresses 
 grouped about, and other equally slender, but long-headed 
 ladies in black satin trains, showing off their dummy sisters. 
 
 It was the figurines that intoxicated me. I saw Ellaline's 
 head in imagination coming out at the top of all the 
 prettiest dresses. They were wonderfully simple, too, the 
 most attractive ones; seemed just the thing for a young 
 girl. Emily walked past them as if they were vulgar 
 acquaintances trying to catch her eye at a duchess's ball, 
 but they trapped me. There was a white thing for the 
 street, that looked as if it had been made for Ellaline, 
 and a blue fluff, cut low in the neck, exactly the right 
 colour to show up her hair. Then there was a film of 
 pink, with wreaths of little rosebuds dotted about 
 made me think of spring. (I told you I 'd lost my 
 head, did n't I ?) 
 
 I stopped my ward, pointed out these things to her, and 
 asked her if she liked them. She said she did, but they 
 would be horribly expensive. . She would n't think of 
 buying such dreams. With that, up swam one of the satin 
 ladies (whose back view was precisely like that of a wet, 
 black codfish with a long tail; I believe she was "Direc- 
 toire"); and hovering near on a sea of pale-green carpet
 
 70 SETINSILVER 
 
 she volunteered the information that these "little frocks" 
 were "poems," singularly suited to the style of I 
 expected her to say my "daughter." Instead of which, 
 however, she finished her sentence with a "madam" 
 that brought a blush to my weather-beaten face. I was 
 the only one concerned who did blush, however, I assure 
 you! The girl smiled into my eyes, with a mischievous 
 twinkle, and minded not at all. A former generation 
 would have simpered, but this young person has n't a 
 simper in her. 
 
 I said "Nonsense," she could well afford the dresses. 
 She argued, and Emily returned to help her form up a 
 hollow square. They were both against me, but I insisted, 
 and the codfish was a powerful ally. 
 
 "Would they fit you ?" I asked the girl. 
 
 "Yes, they would fit me, I dare say. But " 
 
 That settled it. 
 
 "We'll take them," said I. And after that, being 
 beside myself, I reconnoitred the place, pointing my stick 
 at other things which took my fancy. The codfish backed 
 me up at every step, and other codfishes swam the green 
 sea, with hats doubtless brought from unseen coral caves. 
 Most of them were enormous hats, but remarkably 
 attractive, in one way or another, with large drooping 
 brims that dripped roses or frothed with ostrich plumes. 
 I made Ellaline take off a small, round butter plate she 
 had on, which was ugly in itself, though somehow it looked 
 like a saint's halo on her; and murmuring compliments 
 on "madam's" hair, the siren codfishes tried on one hat 
 after another. I bought all, without asking the prices, 
 because each one was more becoming to the girl than its
 
 SET IN SILVER 71 
 
 predecessor, and not to have all, would have been like 
 deliberately destroying so many original Gainsboroughs 
 or Sir Joshuas. 
 
 The child's hair, by the way, is extraordinarily vital. 
 It spouts up in two thick, bright billows over her white 
 forehead, like the beginning of a strong fountain a very 
 agreeable foundation for a hat. 
 
 Seeing that I had gone mad, the wily codfishes took 
 advantage of my state, and flourished things before my 
 eyes, at which Emily instantly forbade me to look. It 
 is true that they were objects not often seen by bachelor 
 man, except in shop windows and on the advertising pages 
 of women's magazines; but silk petticoats and cobwebby 
 lace frills have no Gorgon qualities, and I was not turned 
 to stone by the sight of them. I even found courage to ask 
 of the company at large if they were the sort of thing that 
 young ladies ought to have in their wardrobes. The 
 answer was emphatically in the affirmative. 
 
 "Have you already got all you want of them, or could 
 you make use of more ?" I inquired of my ward. 
 
 "I should n't know myself in such miracles," said she, 
 with a kind of gasp, her eyes very bright, and her cheeks 
 pinker than they had been when she was suspected of 
 bridehood. She was still suspected of it; indeed, I think 
 that in the minds of the black satin codfishes circumstantial 
 evidence had tinkered suspicion into certainty. But 
 Ellaline was deaf to the "madam." They might have 
 turned her from wife into widow without her noticing. 
 She was burning with the desire to possess those embroi- 
 dered cobwebs and those frilled petticoats. I don't know 
 why she should have been more excited about garments
 
 72 SET IN SILVER 
 
 which few, if any, save herself, would see after she 'd 
 put them on, than she was about those on which cats and 
 kings might gaze; but so it was. I should like to ask an 
 expert if this is the case with all females, or if it is excep- 
 tional. 
 
 "Send the lot with the hats and dresses," said I. And 
 when she widened her eyes and gasped, I assured her 
 that I knew her income better than she did. Anything 
 she cared to have in the way of pretty clothes she could 
 afford. 
 
 Strange to say, even then she did n't seem comfortable. 
 She opened her lips as if to speak; shut them hastily at 
 the first word, swallowed it with difficulty, sighed, and 
 looked anxious. I should rather have liked to know what 
 was in her mind. 
 
 We ended up by the purchase of costumes suitable 
 to the automobile, both for Emily and Ellaline. I think 
 women ought to be as "well found" for motoring, as for 
 yachting, don't you ? And I am looking forward to the 
 trip I intend to take. It will be interesting to study the 
 impressions made upon this young girl by England, land 
 of history and beauty 
 
 . . . this little world, 
 This precious stone set in the silver sea 
 . . . this England. 
 
 You will laugh at me, perhaps, for my long "harping" 
 on my ward; but anyhow, don't misunderstand. It 's 
 not because she is pretty and engaging (one would say that 
 of a kitten), but because of the startling contrast between 
 the real girl and the girl of my imagination. I can't help 
 thinking about her a good deal for this reason, and what
 
 SETINSILVER 73 
 
 I think of I have generally talked of or written of fully 
 to you, my best and oldest friend. It 's a habit nearly a 
 quarter of a century old, and I don't mean to break it 
 now, particularly as you have made rather a point of my 
 continuing it on my return "home" after all these years. 
 
 London has got hold of me. I am fascinated by it. 
 Either it has improved as it has grown, or I am in a mood 
 to be pleased with anything English. Do you remember 
 dear old Ennis's Rooms, which you and I used to think 
 the height of luxury and gaiety ? I 've promised myself 
 to go there again, and I mean to take Ellaline and Emily 
 to supper after the theatre to-night. I think I shall keep 
 this letter open to tell you how the old place impresses me. 
 
 Midnight and a half. 
 
 I 've had a shock. Ennis's is dead as a doornail. We 
 entered, after the theatre, and galvanized the Rooms into 
 a kind of dreadful life. They "don't serve many suppers 
 now, sir," it seems. " It 's mostly luncheons and dinners." 
 
 The waiters resented us as intruders. We were the 
 only ones, too, which made it worse, as all their rancour 
 was visited on us; but we had n't been for many minutes 
 at our old favourite table (the one thing unchanged), 
 trying to keep up a spurious gaiety, when another party of 
 two ventured in. 
 
 They were young Dick Burden and his aunt, Mrs. 
 Senter. 
 
 Now, you may n't see it, but this was rather odd. It 
 would n't have been odd in the past, to meet your most 
 intimate friend from round the corner, and the Shah of 
 Persia, at Ennis's. But evidently the " people who amuse
 
 74 SETINSILVER 
 
 themselves" don't come now. It's not "the thing." 
 Why, therefore, should this couple choose Ennis's for 
 supper ? They have n't been out of England for fifteen 
 years, like me. If Mrs. Senter occasionally spends Sat- 
 urday to Monday in India, or visits the Sphinx when the 
 Sphinx is in season, she always returns to London when 
 "everybody is in town," and there does as everybody 
 does. 
 
 I immediately suspected that Burden had brought her 
 with an object: that object, to gain an introduction to 
 Ellaline. The suspicion may seem far-fetched; but you 
 would n't pronounce it so if you could have seen the 
 young man's face, in the railway station at Paris, the other 
 day. I had that privilege; and I observed at the time his 
 wish to know my ward, without feeling a responsive one 
 to gratify it. I don't know why I did n't feel it, but I 
 did n't, though the desire was both pardonable and 
 natural in the young fellow. He has a determined jaw; 
 therefore perhaps it 's equally natural that, when dis- 
 appointed, he should persist even follow, and adopt 
 strong measures (in other words, an aunt) to obtain his 
 object. You see, Ellaline is an extremely pretty girl, 
 and I 'm not alone in thinking so. 
 
 My idea is that, having found us in the newspapers, 
 staying at the Ritz, the boy must have somehow informed 
 himself as to our movements, awaiting his opportunity 
 or his aunt. I bought my theatre tickets in the hotel. 
 He may have got his information from there; and the rest 
 was easy as far as Ennis's. I 'm afraid the rest was, 
 too, because Mrs. Senter selected the table nearest ours, 
 and after we had exchanged greetings proposed that we
 
 SET IN SILVER 75 
 
 join parties. The tables were placed together, and 
 introductions all round were a matter of course. Young 
 England expects that every aunt will do her duty! 
 
 They still give you very good food at Ennis's, but it 's 
 rather like eating "funeral baked meats." 
 
 Mrs. Senter is exactly what she was some years ago. 
 Perhaps it would be ungallant to recall to your memory 
 just how many years ago. She is, if anything, younger. 
 I believe there's a maxim, "Once a duchess, always a 
 duchess." I think women of to-day have another: 
 "Once thirty, always thirty"; or, "Once thirty, always 
 twenty-nine." But, joking apart, she is a very agreeable 
 and rather witty woman, sympathetic too, apparently, 
 though I believe you used to think, when she was out 
 smiting hearts at our Back o' Beyond, that in nature she 
 somewhat resembled a certain animal worshipped by 
 the Egyptians and feared by mice. She seems very fond 
 of her nephew Dick, with whom she says she goes about a 
 good deal. "We chaperon each other," she expressed it. 
 She pities me for my fire at Graylees, but envies me my 
 motoring trip. 
 
 We shall be off in a few days, now, I hope, as soon as 
 Ellaline has been shown a few "features" of London. 
 I went to see the car to-day, and she is a beauty. I shall 
 try her for the first time to-morrow. 
 
 Ever Yours, 
 PEN.
 
 VII 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Ritz Hotel, London, July 9th 
 
 ONE AND ONLY COMPLEAT MOTHER: Things have 
 happened. I felt them coming in my bones not my 
 funny bones this time. For the things may turn out to 
 be not at all funny. 
 
 Mr. Richard Burden has been introduced to the alleged 
 Miss Lethbridge. I wonder if he can know she is merely 
 "the alleged"? He is certainly changed, somehow, both 
 in his manner, and in his way of looking at one. I thought 
 in Paris he had n't at all a bad face, though rather im- 
 pudent and besides, even Man is a fellow being ! But 
 last night, for a minute, he really had an incredibly wicked 
 expression; or else he was suppressing a sneeze. I 
 could n't be quite sure which as you said about Aubrey 
 Beardsley's weird black-and-white women. 
 
 It was at a restaurant a piteous restaurant, where the 
 waiters looked like enchanted waiters in the Palace of 
 the Sleeping Beauty. He Mr. Dicky Burden came 
 in, with an aunt. Such an aunt! I could never be at 
 home with her as an aunt if I were a grown-up man, 
 though she might make a bewitching cousin. She 's 
 quite beautiful, dear, and graceful; but I don't like 
 her at all. I think Sir Lionel does, though. They knew 
 76
 
 SETINSILVER 77 
 
 each other in Bengal, and she kept saying to him in a 
 cooing voice, "Do you remember ?" 
 
 You can see she 's too clever to be always clever, because 
 that bores people; but she says witty, sharp things which 
 sound as if they came out of plays, or books, and you think 
 back to see whether she deliberately led up to them. For 
 instance, she asked Sir Lionel, apropos of woman's 
 suffrage, whether, on the whole, he preferred a man's 
 woman, or a woman's woman ? 
 
 " What 's the difference ?" he wanted to know. 
 
 "All the difference between a Gibson girl and an Ibsen 
 girl," said she. I wonder if she 'd heard that, or made 
 it up? Anyhow, when Sir Lionel threw back his head 
 and laughed, in an attractive way he has, which shows 
 a dent in his chin, I wished I 'd said it. But the more she 
 flashed out bright things, the more of a lump I was. I 
 do think the one unpardonable sin is dulness, and I felt 
 guilty of it. She simply vampired me. Sucked my wits 
 dry. And, do you know, I 'm afraid she 's going on the 
 motor trip with us ? 
 
 Sir Lionel does n't dream of such a thing, but she does. 
 And she 's the sort of person whose dreams, if they 're 
 about men, come true. Of course, I don't know her well 
 enough to hate her, but I feel it coming on. 
 
 In books, all villainesses who 're worth their salt have 
 little, sharp teeth and pointed nails. Mrs. Senter's teeth 
 and nails are just like other women's, only better. Book 
 villainesses' hair is either red or blue-black. Hers is pale 
 gold, though her eyes are brown, and very soft when they 
 turn toward Sir Lionel. Nevertheless, though I 'm not 
 cattish, except when absolutely necessary, I know she 's
 
 78 SET IN SILVER 
 
 a pig, never happy unless she has the centre of the stage, 
 whether it 's her part or not wanting everyone to feel the 
 curtain rises when she comes on, and falls when she goes 
 off. She looks twenty-eight, so I suppose she 's thirty- 
 five; but really she 's most graceful. Standing up for 
 Sir Lionel to take off her cloak, her trailing gray satin 
 dress twisted about her feet, as some charming, slender 
 trees stand with their bark spreading out round them on 
 the ground, and folding in lovely lines like drapery. 
 
 She managed to draw Mrs. Norton into conversation 
 with her and Sir Lionel, and to let Dick talk to me, so 
 they must have arranged beforehand what they would do. 
 At first, when he had got his wish and been introduced, 
 he spoke of ordinary things, but presently he asked if I 
 remembered his saying that he wished to go into a certain 
 profession. I answered "Yes," before I stopped to think, 
 which I *m afraid flattered him, and then he wanted me to 
 guess what the profession was. When I would n't, he 
 said it was that of a detective. "If I succeed, my mother 
 will give up her objections," he explained. "And I think 
 I shall succeed." It was when he said this, that he looked 
 so wicked or else as if he wanted to sneeze as I told 
 you. What can he mean ? And what has he found out ? 
 Or is it only my bad conscience ? Oh, dear, I should like 
 to give it a thorough spring cleaning, as one does in Lent ! 
 I 'm afraid that 's what is needed. I 've had plenty of 
 blacks on it since Ellaline made me consent to her 
 plan, and I began to carry it out. But now I have 
 more. I have lots of dresses and hats on it, too lovely 
 ones. And petticoats, and such things, etc., etc. 
 Did Dragons of old insist on their fairy princess-
 
 SET IN SILVER 79 
 
 prisoners having exquisite clothes, and say "hang the 
 expense" ? This Dragon has done so with his 
 Princess, and I had to take the things, because, you see, I 
 have engaged to play the part, and this apparently is his 
 rich conception of it. He says that I Ellaline can 
 afford to have everything that 's nice; so what can I do ? 
 The worst of it is, much of my new finery is so delicate, it 
 will be dtfraiche by the time the real Ellaline can have it, 
 even if it would fit or suit her, which it won't. But prob- 
 ably the man was ashamed to be seen with a ward in gray 
 serge and a sailor hat, so I could n't very well violate his 
 feelings. Perhaps if I 'd refused to do what he wanted, 
 all his hidden Dragon-ness would have rushed to the sur- 
 face; but as I was quite meek, he behaved more like an 
 angel than a dragon. 
 
 It really was fun buying the things, in a fascinating 
 shop where the assistants were all more refined than 
 duchesses, and so slender-waisted they seemed to be held 
 together only by their spines and a ladylike ligament or 
 two. But if Providence did n't wish women to lace, why 
 were n't our ribs made to go all the way down ? The way 
 we were created, it 's an incentive to pinch waists. It 
 seems meant, does n't it ? 
 
 I was a dream to look at when we went to supper at that 
 restaurant; which was one comfort. Mrs. Senter's things 
 were no nicer than mine, and she was so interested in 
 what I wore. Only she was a good deal more interested 
 in Sir Lionel. 
 
 "Everywhere I go, people are talking of you," she said. 
 "You have given them exciting things to talk about." 
 
 "Really, I wasn't aware of it," returned the poor
 
 80 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Dragon, as apologetically as if she 'd waked him up to say 
 he 'd been snoring. 
 
 Since I wrote you, I Ve heard more things about his 
 past from Mrs. Norton, who is as proud of her brother, 
 after a fashion, as a cat of its mouse, and always wanting to 
 show him off, in just the same way. (We all have our 
 "mouse," have n't we? I 'm yours. Just now, the new 
 hats are mine.) She has told me a splendid story about a 
 thing he did in Bengal: saved twelve people's lives in a 
 house that was on fire in the middle of the night the 
 kind of house which blazes like a haystack. And, accord- 
 ing to her, he thinks no more of rescuing drowning per- 
 sons who jump off ships in seas swarming with sharks 
 than we think of fishing a fly out of our bath. Now, is 
 it possible for a man like that to be treacherous to women, 
 and to accept bribes for being guardian to their children ? 
 I do wish I knew what to make of it all and of him. 
 
 He has taken the funny little Bengalese valet, who has 
 been, and is to be, his chauffeur, to try the new car this 
 morning. He meant to have gone before this to look at 
 his partly burnt castle in Warwickshire, but he says 
 London has captivated him, and he can't tear himself 
 away; that he will go in a day or two, when he has trotted 
 Mrs. Norton and me about to see a few more sights. Of 
 course, we could quite well see the sights by ourselves. 
 Mrs. Norton has seen them all, anyhow, and only re visits 
 them for my sake; while as for me, you and I " did " London 
 thrillingly together in the last two months of our glory. 
 But Sir Lionel has an interesting way of telling things, 
 and he is as enthusiastic as a boy over his England. Not 
 that he gushes; but one knows, somehow, what he is
 
 SET IN SILVER 81 
 
 feeling. I can't imagine his ever being tired, ut he is 
 very considerate of us seems to think women are frail 
 as glass. I suppose women are a sex by themselves, but we 
 are n't as different as all that. 
 
 Once in a while he threw a sideways glare at Dick 
 Burden, when D. B. was talking with a confidential air to 
 me. I know from Ellaline and Mrs. Norton that Sir 
 Lionel dislikes women; but all the same I believe he 
 thinks we ought to be kept indoors unless veiled, and 
 never allowed to talk to men, except our relatives. 
 
 Mrs. Norton is so funny, without knowing it. She 
 asked her brother as gravely as possible at breakfast this 
 morning: "Had you a harem in Bengal, dear?" 
 
 "Good heavens, no!" he answered, turning red. "What 
 put such a ghastly idea into your head ?" 
 
 "Oh, I only thought perhaps it was the thing, and you 
 were obliged to, or be talked about," she explained, calmly. 
 
 He went on to tell her that it was not at all necessary 
 to have harems, and she was quite surprised. You would 
 think that she 'd have taken pains to find out every detail 
 of her brother's life in a country where he was one of the 
 head men, would n't you ? But she hardly feels that any 
 country except her own is worth serious inquiries. She 
 has the impression that "heathen" are all alike, and 
 mostly naked, but not as embarrassing to meet as if they 
 were white. 
 
 Good-bye, dearest. I 'm afraid I write very discon- 
 nected letters. But I feel "disconnected" myself, some- 
 how, like a telephone that 's been "cut off." 
 
 Your loving and well-dressed 
 
 DECEIVER.
 
 82 SETINSILVER 
 
 P. S. It 's to-morrow, for I forgot to post this, there 
 were so many things " doing." Please forgive me. 
 The car 's splendid, and I am to christen her. We 're 
 going to have a kind of ceremony like a launching, 
 and I have to think of a name for her, and throw 
 wine on her bonnet. Sir Lionel is longing to get 
 off on the tour, he says; and as he 's to leave town 
 for Warwickshire to-morrow, turning me over tem- 
 porarily to the tender mercies of the good (his sister) 
 I almost hope _that after all Mrs. Senter may n't 
 have time to "sweedle" him into taking her with 
 us, as I know she hopes to do. 
 
 We, by the way, are not to see his place until the burnt 
 bit is mended. We 're to avoid Warwickshire in starting 
 out, go away up North as far as the Roman Wall, visit 
 Bamborough Castle, where he thinks friends of his, who 
 own it, will actually invite us to lunch, or something (it 
 seems like a dream), and then stop in Warwickshire at the 
 end of the tour, when all the dilapidations have been made 
 good. The Dragon naturally expects me, not only to 
 finish the trip, but to take up my residence at Graylees 
 until next spring, when his plan is that his ward shall be 
 presented. Oh, mice and men, and dragons, how aft 
 your plans gang agley ! Of course, mine depend altogether 
 upon Ellaline. I hold myself ready for marching orders 
 from her. But I must confess to you that, whether right or 
 wrong, I don't look forward to the weeks of my duties as 
 understudy with the same feelings I had when I was 
 engaged to perform them. 
 
 Little did Sir Lionel guess what was in my mind this 
 morning, when I asked if one could see most of England 

 
 SETINSILVER 83 
 
 in a few weeks when motoring! But I may have to take 
 my flight from the car, so to speak, unless Ellaline be 
 detained for some reason. I 'm expecting a letter from 
 her any day now, and there may be definite news. 
 Good-bye, again, dearest.
 
 VIII 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Royal Hotel, Chichester, 
 July 17th 
 
 BRIGHTEST AND BEST: La Donna 6 automobile. I am 
 "la donna"; and the most inward Me-ness of my Me 
 ^ automobile. 
 
 Some people Mrs. Norton, for instance might 
 say: "What on earth does the silly thing mean?" But 
 you always know what I mean. You and I were born 
 knowing quite a lot of nice little things like that, were n't 
 we ? Things we picked up during our various incarnations ; 
 things new souls have n't had time to collect, poor dears. 
 
 My automobiliness is the reason I 've only sent you 
 snippy "how-do-you-do and good-bye" notes, inter- 
 spersed with telegrams, for the last few days, just thank- 
 ing you for wise advice, and saying "Glad-you 're- well; 
 so-am-I." 
 
 You will guess from my very handwriting that I 'm 
 feeling more at home in life than I did when I wrote you 
 last. And I can't help being pleased that Ellaline's 
 adored one won't be Table to leave his manoeuvres, to make 
 her his own, till a fortnight or so later than she expected. 
 That is, I can't help being glad, as the doctor thinks you 
 ought to stop at Champel-les-Bains till after the first week 
 84
 
 SET IN SILVER 85 
 
 of September, and we could n't be together, even if I were 
 back in Paris. You swear you did n't hypnotize him to 
 say that? I would enjoy more peace of mind, while 
 careering through England in Apollo, if I were certain. 
 
 Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to tell you what fun it was 
 christening Apollo. I quite enjoyed it, and felt immensely 
 important. Don't you think "Apollo" an appropriate 
 name for such a magnificent car as I 've described to you ? 
 The Sun God Driver of the Chariot of the Sun ? Sir 
 Lionel likes it; but he says he isn't sure "The Cloud" 
 would n't be a more appropriate name, because the car 
 costs such a lot that " she " has a silver lining. I began by 
 calling her " it," but he won't let me do that. He does n't 
 much mind my being amateurish, but he hates me to be 
 disrespectful. 
 
 I am so dazzled by the motor and enchanted with the 
 sport of motoring as well as seeing things even more 
 lovely than I hoped for that I'm not worrying over 
 Dick Burden and his mysterious hints about himself as a 
 detective. Besides, when he and his aunt came to tea 
 (you '11 remember I told you in a scrap of a note that it 
 was the day Sir Lionel went to Warwickshire, and how 
 vexed Mrs. Senter Was to find him gone), Mr. Dick made 
 himself quite pleasant. He was n't impertinent, or too 
 admiring, or anything which a well-brought-up young 
 Englishman ought not to be. Indeed, I thought by his 
 manner that he wanted tacitly to apologize for his bad 
 behaviour when we first met; so probably, when I fancied 
 he looked wicked that night at Ennis's Rooms, it was 
 because he wanted to sneeze. You have taught me to 
 give everybody, except young men, the benefit of the doubt;
 
 86 SET IN SILVER 
 
 but I don't see why one should n't give it to young men, 
 too. I think they 're rather easier to forgive, somehow, 
 than women. Is that why they 're dangerous ? But 
 D. B. could never be dangerous to me, in the sense of 
 falling in love. 
 
 His aunt certainly wishes to throw us together; I suppose 
 on account of Ellaline's money. She does n't like girls, 
 I 'm sure, but would always be ready, on principle, to 
 give first aid to heiresses. It is something to be thank- 
 ful for that she has n't grafted herself on to our party, as 
 I feared she might; and though they 're both going to stop 
 at some country house near Southsea, and they "hope 
 we may meet," I dare say I shan't be bothered by them 
 again while I 'm in England. I don't intend to worry. 
 La donna 6 automobilel 
 
 I have n't properly described our start, or told you 
 about the things I 've seen en route, and I promised 
 to tell you everything; so I '11 go back to the beginning 
 of the trip. 
 
 There was Apollo, throbbing with joy of life in front 
 of the hotel door, at nine o'clock of a perfect English 
 morning. There were statuesque, Ritzy footmen, gazing 
 admiringly at the big golden-yellow car (that was one 
 of the reasons I thought she should be named after the 
 Sun God, she is so golden). There was Charu Chunder 
 Bose, alias Young Nick, who would think it a 
 sin against all his gods to dress as a chauffeur, 
 and who continues to garb himself as a self- 
 respecting Bengali Young Nick, with his sleepy 
 eyes, and his Buddha-when-young smile, about as appro- 
 priate on a motor-car as a baby crocodile. There was
 
 SET IN SILVER 87 
 
 Sir Lionel waiting to tuck us in. There were we two 
 females in neat gray motor dust-cloaks, on which the 
 Dragon insisted ; Mrs. Norton in a toque, which she wore 
 as if it were a remote and dreaded contingency; your 
 Audrie in a duck of an early Victorian bonnet, in which 
 she liked herself better than in anything else she ever had 
 on before. There, too, was our luggage, made to fit the 
 car, and looking like the very last word of up-to-dateness 
 if you know what that look is. 
 
 Of course, it was n't the first time I 'd been out in the 
 car, for I think I told you, the day Apollo was christened 
 I had a spin; but it rained, and we went only through the 
 Park. That was nothing. This morning we were bid- 
 ding good-bye to London, and our pulses were beating 
 high for the Tour. Young Nick drove on the christening 
 day, but this time Sir Lionel took the driver's seat, with 
 the brown idol beside him; and I saw instantly, by the 
 very way he laid his hand on the steering-wheel, with a 
 kind of caress as a horse-lover pats a beloved mare's 
 neck that he and the golden car were in perfect 
 sympathy. 
 
 We were starting early, because Sir Lionel had planned a 
 good many things for us to see before dark; but early as 
 it was, Piccadilly and Knightsbridge were seething with 
 traffic. Motor buses like mad hippopotamuses; taxi- 
 cabs like fierce young lions; huge carts like elephants; and 
 other vehicles of all sorts to make up a confused medley 
 of wild animals escaped from the Zoo. It looked appalling 
 to mingle with, but our own private Dragon drove 
 so skilfully, yet so carefully, that I never bit my heart once. 
 Always the car seemed sentient, steering its way like a long,
 
 88 SETINSILVER 
 
 thin pike; then when the chance came, flashing ahead, 
 dauntless and sure. 
 
 We went by a great domed palace Harrod's Stores 
 and then over Putney Bridge, passing Swinburne's house, 
 whose outside is as deceiving as an oyster-shell that hides 
 a pearl ; through Epsom, Charles the Second's "Brighton" 
 (which I 've been reading about in a volume [of Pepys 
 Sir Lionel has given me), to Leatherhead, along the 
 Dorking Road, slowing up for a glimpse of Juniper Hall, 
 glowing red as a smouldering bonfire behind a dark 
 latticed screen of splendid Lebanon cedars. I dare say 
 it 's a good deal changed since dear little Fanny Burney's 
 day, for the house looks quite modern; but then neither 
 buildings nor the people who live in them show their 
 age early in England. 
 
 Close under Box Hill we glided ; and Sir Lionel pointed 
 out a little path leading up on the left to George Mere- 
 dith's cottage. Just a small house of gray stone it is (for 
 I would get out and walk up part way to see it from far 
 off, not to intrude or spy); and there that great genius 
 shines out, a clear, white light for the world, like a beacon 
 or a star. 
 
 Evidently Surrey air suits geniuses. Do you remember 
 reading about Keats, that he wrote a lot of "Endymion" 
 at Burford Bridge ? It was only a little after ten o'clock 
 when we passed the quaint-looking hotel there, but 
 already at least a dozen motors were drawn up before it. 
 I wanted to go in and ask if they show the room Lord 
 Nelson used; but we had too many things to see. 
 
 Of course, I am always wishing for you, but I began to 
 wish the hardest just as we came into this green, brackeny,
 
 SET IN SILVER 89 
 
 fairyland of Surrey. It 's the kind of country you love 
 best; although I must say it was never planned for motors. 
 Winding through those green tunnels which are the 
 Surrey lanes, I felt as if, in some quaint dream, I were 
 motoring on a tight -rope, expecting another car to want 
 to pass me on the same rope which naturally it 
 could n't! 
 
 It would have been much worse, though, if Young Nick 
 had been driving. That little, smooth brown face of his 
 looks as if its idol-simper hid no human emotions, and I 
 believe if people and animals were perfectly flat, like 
 paper dolls, so that they would do no harm to his car, he 
 would n't mind how many he drove over. Luckily, how- 
 ever, they are n't flat, and the only thing earthly he adores, 
 after his master, is his motor; so he is nice and cautious 
 for its sake. But the Dragon thinks of everyone, and 
 says there 's no pleasure for him in motoring if he leaves 
 a trail of distress or even annoyance along the road as he 
 passes. He slows down at corners; he goes carefully 
 round them; he almost walks Apollo in places where 
 creatures of any kind may start out unexpectedly; and he 
 blows our pleasant musical horn as if by instinct, never 
 forgetting, as I 'm sure I should do. 
 
 As we twisted and turned through the Surrey lanes, 
 between Dorking and Shere, little children in red cloaks 
 and tarns appeared from behind hedges, looking like blow- 
 ing poppies as they ran. And blue-eyed, gold-brown 
 haired girls in cottage doorways, under hanging bowers 
 of roses, were as decorative as Old Chelsea china girls. 
 The red tiles of their roofs, as I turned back for one more 
 glimpse, would already be half hidden in waves of green,
 
 90 SET IN SILVER 
 
 but would just show up like beds of scarlet geraniums 
 buried in leaves. 
 
 Shere was almost too beautiful to be real, with its rows 
 of Elizabethan cottages whose windows twinkled at us 
 with their diamond-shaped, diamond-bright panes, spark- 
 ling under their low, thatch-eyebrows, from between black 
 oak beams. The Tudor chimneys were as graceful as 
 the smoke wreaths that lazily spiraled above them, and 
 the whole effect was was well, inexpressibly Birket 
 Foster. I used to think he idealized ; but then, I M never 
 seen anything of England but London, and did n't know 
 how all English trees, cottages, and even clouds, are 
 trained to group themselves to suit artists of different 
 schools. 
 
 I kept wishing that you 'd made me study architecture 
 and botany, instead of languages and music. In justice 
 to oneself, one ought, when travelling in England, to have 
 at least a bowing acquaintance with every sort of archi- 
 tecture, and all families of flowers, to say nothing of trees, 
 so that one might exclaim, as snobs do of royalties and 
 celebrities: "Oh, she was the great granddaughter of So- 
 and-So." "He married Lady This-and-That." Also, 
 I find I need much more knowledge of literature than I 
 have. This country is divided off into a kind of glorious 
 chessboard, each square being sacred to some immortal 
 author, playwright, or poet. The artists press them close, 
 without overcrowding; and history lies underneath 
 history for every square inch. 
 
 "Twelve coffin deep," I quoted Kipling to myself, as 
 my mind panted along Roman roads, and the Pilgrim's 
 Way.
 
 SETINSILVER 91 
 
 "Why, was there a cemetery there?" asked Mrs. 
 Norton, looking mildly interested. 
 
 She, by the way, does n't much care for ruins. She 
 says they 're so untidy. 
 
 You and I travelled till our money threatened to give out 
 in the noble cause of sight-seeing, but I never realized 
 history quite so potently even in Italy as I do in England. 
 Yet that 's not strange, when you think how tiny England 
 is, compared with other countries, and how things have 
 gone on happening there every minute since the Phoenic- 
 ians found it a snug little island. Its chapters of history 
 have to be packed like sardines, beginning down, down, 
 far deeper than Kipling's "twelve coffins." 
 
 One Surrey village telleth another, just to slip through in 
 a motor-car, though none could ever be tiresome in the 
 telling; but if one stopped to hear the real story of each one, 
 how different they would all be! There would be grand 
 chapters of fighting, and mysterious chapters of smug- 
 gling oh, but long ones about smuggling, since most 
 of the manors and half the old cottages have "smugglers' 
 rooms," where the lace and spirits used to be hidden, in 
 their secret journey from Portsmouth to London. It 's 
 difficult to believe in these thrilling chapters now, in the 
 rich, placid county, where the only mystery floats in the 
 veil of blue mist that twists like a gauze scarf around the 
 tree trunks in the woods, and the only black spots are the 
 dark downs in the distance, with the sky pale gold behind 
 them. 
 
 You would love motoring, not only for what you do see, 
 but for what you nearly see, and long to see, but can't 
 just as Dad used to say "Thank God for all the blessings
 
 92 SET IN SILVER 
 
 I 've never had!" Why, every road you don't go down 
 looks fantastically alluring, just twice as alluring as the 
 one you are in. You grudge missing anything, and fear, 
 greedily, that there may be better villages with more his- 
 tory beyond the line of your route. It 's no consolation 
 when Mrs. Norton says, "Well, you can't see every- 
 thing!" You want to see everything. And you wish 
 you had eyes all the way round your head. It would 
 be inconvenient for hair and hats, but you could manage 
 somehow. 
 
 We had to go through Petworth, a most feudal-looking 
 old place, reeking of history since the Confessor, and men- 
 tioned in the Domesday Book (I do so respect towns or 
 houses mentioned in the Domesday Book!), and if it had 
 been the right day we could have seen Lord Leconsfi eld's 
 collection of pictures, some of the best in England; but 
 it was the wrong day, so we sailed on out of Surrey into 
 Sussex, and arrived at Bignor. 
 
 All I knew about Bignor was that I must expect some- 
 thing amazing there. Sir Lionel asked me not to read 
 about it in the books of which we have a travelling library 
 in the car one at least for each county we shall visit. 
 He said he "wanted Bignor to be a surprise" for me; and 
 it is odd the way one finds oneself obeying that man ! Not 
 that one 's afraid of him, but well, I don't know why 
 exactly, but one just does it. We did n't stop in the village, 
 though there was the quaintest grocery shop there you can 
 imagine, perfectly mediaeval; and in the churchyard 
 yew trees grand enough to make bows for half the archers 
 of England if there were any in these days. We went 
 on to quite a modern-looking farmhouse, and Sir Lionel
 
 SET IN SILVER 93 
 
 said, "I am going to ask Mrs. Tupper if she will give us a 
 little lunch. If she says 'yes,' it 's sure to be good." 
 
 "I don't know any Tuppers, Lionel," objected Mrs. 
 Norton. " Who are they ?" 
 
 "Relatives of Martin Tupper, if that name recalls 
 anything to your mind," said he. 
 
 Mrs. Norton had a vague idea that she had been more 
 or less brought up on extracts from Martin Tupper, and 
 seemed to associate him with Sundays, when, as a child, 
 she had n't been allowed to play. But that did n't 
 explain how Lionel happened to know connections of his 
 in a Sussex farmhouse. Besides, he could n't possibly 
 have seen them for more than fifteen years. 
 
 "That is true, and I only saw them once, even then," 
 he admitted. "But Mrs. Tupper had been here for a good 
 many years, engaged in the most delightful work, which 
 you will hear about by and by; and I 'm sure she is here 
 still, and will be for many more years to come, because 
 I don't want to imagine the place without her." 
 
 Mrs. Norton said no more, and her brother knocked 
 on the door of the farmhouse, which stood hospitably open. 
 In a minute, a dear old white-haired lady appeared, and 
 instantly her face lighted up. 
 
 "Why, if it is n't Mr. Pendragon I mean Sir Lionel 
 come back to see us again!" said she. 
 
 Sir Lionel grew red with pleasure, at being remem- 
 bered by her, for apparently he had n't at all expected it. 
 He seems to forget that he is a celebrity, and generally 
 does n't like being reminded of the fact, but he was pleased 
 that Mrs. Tupper had read about him in the papers from 
 time to time, and had never forgotten his face.
 
 94 SETINSILVER 
 
 She said she would be delighted to provide us with lunch, 
 if we did n't mind a simple one; and then she would have 
 gone on to say something which would have given the 
 "surprise" away, if Sir Lionel had n't stopped her. 
 
 We had delicious country things to eat, with real Surrey 
 cream and apple dumplings. They did taste good after 
 the elaborate French cooking in London, by way of 
 contrast! Then, when we had finished, Sir Lionel said, 
 "Now, Mrs. Tupper, can you take us for a stroll round 
 the farm ?" 
 
 That did n't sound exciting, did it ? We walked out, 
 and it seemed a very nice farm, but nothing remarkable. 
 As we wandered toward some sheds, in a field of man- 
 golds, Sir Lionel made us look up at a big hill, and said, 
 "There was a Roman camp there. If you 'd stood where 
 you stand now, on a quiet night in those times, you could 
 have heard the clanking of armour or the soldiers quar- 
 relling over their dice. Here Roman Stane Street ran, 
 and chariots used to stop to bring the latest news from 
 Rome to the owner of the villa." 
 
 "Was there a villa?" asked Mrs. Norton, who thinks 
 it polite to ask her brother questions, whether she is inter- 
 ested or not. 
 
 "Let 's take a look into this shed," said he, by way of 
 answer. And, there, protected by that rough roof, 
 was a great stretch of splendid mosaic pavement. 
 It was done in circular compartments of ornamentation, 
 and in one was a beautiful head of Ganymede in 
 another, Winter. Alas, I should n't have known what 
 they were if I had n't been told, but I would have known 
 that they were rare and wonderful.
 
 SETINSILVER 95 
 
 This was the "surprise." This was the secret of Bignor; 
 but it was n't nearly all. There were lovely broken pillars, 
 and lots more pavements, acres of mosaic, it seemed; 
 for the villa had been large and important, and must have 
 been built by a rich man with cultivated taste. He knew 
 how to make exile endurable, did that Roman gentleman ! 
 Standing in his dining-hall, I could imagine him and his 
 fair lady-wife sitting at breakfast, looking out from 
 between white, glittering pillars at the Sussex downs, 
 grander than those of Surrey, reminding me of great, 
 brave shoulders raised to protect England. Now we 
 knew what Mrs. Tupper's " delightful work" was! For 
 forty-nine years she has cleaned the mosaic pavement 
 of the vanished Roman villa, all of which were discovered 
 by the grandfather of the present owner of the farm. 
 Never once has she tired of looking at the mosaics, 
 because, as she explained to us, "one does n't tire of what 
 is beautiful." There speaks true appreciation, does n't it ? 
 Only a born lover of the beautiful could have said that so 
 simply. 
 
 There was an Italian, a man from Venice, repairing the 
 mosaic. He could hardly speak a word of English, and 
 beamed with a sudden smile when I asked him some 
 question in his native tongue. We talked awhile, and I 
 translated several things he said to Sir Lionel and his 
 sister. I 'm ashamed to confess, dear, that I was pleased 
 to show off my poor little accomplishment, and proud 
 because I knew one thing which our famous man did n't. 
 Was n't that low of me ? 
 
 "Well, you were n't disappointed in my surprise, I 
 think ?" said Sir Lionel,when we were starting away at last.
 
 96 SET IN SILVER 
 
 I just gave him one look. It really was n't necessary 
 to answer. 
 
 As we flashed on, through country always exquisite, 
 and over perfect roads, I could think of nothing but Bignor, 
 until suddenly, after passing through a long >aisle of great 
 beeches, like an avenue in a private park, a tremendous 
 bulk of stone looming at me made me jump, and cry out, 
 "Oh!" 
 
 Sir Lionel turned his head long enough for half a 
 smile. "Arundel Castle," he said. 
 
 It 's lucky for me that Mrs. Norton' does n't know 
 much about any part of England except her own 
 home, and the homes of her particular friends, or 
 else she would always be explaining things to me, 
 and I should hate that. It would be like having 
 purple hot-house grapes handed out to one impaled 
 on the prongs of a plated silver fork. I should have 
 wanted to slap her, if she had told me I was looking 
 at Arundel Castle, but I was grateful to her brother 
 for the information. This was a wickedness in me; but 
 if you knew how I felt, having started out from the Ritz 
 expecting a quiet day's run through] one or two of the 
 garden counties of England, to come like this, bang into 
 the midst of Roman villas, and under the shadow of a 
 tenth-century castle-keep, maybe you 'd excuse my morals 
 for being upset. 
 
 You can't have centuries roll away, like a mere cloud 
 of dust raised by your motor, and be perfectly normal, 
 can you ? I tried to seem calm, because I hate to be 
 gushing and school-girlish (for Ellaline's sake, I suppose, 
 as it can't make any difference what her Dragon thinks of
 
 SETINSILVER 97 
 
 me), but I 'm pretty sure he saw that I was rather "out of 
 myself" over all his surprises. 
 
 He stopped the motor, and we sat for a long time gazing 
 up at the towers beyond the green and silver beeches a 
 pile of battlemented stone, looking like the Middle Ages 
 carved in granite, yet more habitable to-day than ever 
 before. 
 
 We had lunched early, and had plenty of time, so we 
 walked through the park, which made me feel that England 
 must be rather big, after all, to have room for thousands 
 of such parks even much larger ones and all its 
 great cities and miles and miles of farms and common 
 land, and mere "country." 
 
 When we lived in New York, you and Dad and I, we 
 used to joke about the way we should feel in England if 
 we should ever go to visit Dad's ancestral Devonshire. 
 We used to pretend that, after being accustomed to the 
 vast distances of America, we should be afraid of tumbling 
 off the edge of England; but so far I find that I don't 
 dread that imminent peril. Just now England seems 
 so vast that my only fear is I may n't have time to reach 
 the Roman Wall. 
 
 The Duke's midges bit us a good deal, in the park, so 
 we did n't linger, but went back to Apollo, where Young 
 Nick's remarkable appearance had attracted a crowd of 
 boys and girls from Arundel town. They stood in the 
 road gaping at him, with that steady, unblinking stare 
 English children and French grown-ups have, while the 
 brown image sat motionless in the car, as scornfully 
 oblivious of his critics as if he 'd been the idol he looked. 
 
 Poor Sir Lionel hates the attention his extraordinary
 
 98 SETINSILVER 
 
 little chauffeur excites, for, in spite of his long expatriation, 
 he loathes being conspicuous in any way as heartily as 
 other Englishmen do. But (Mrs. Norton has told me) he 
 saved Young Nick from being murdered by someone who 
 was a "family enemy." Since then it was when Nick 
 was scarcely more than a child the brown image has 
 worshipped the Dragon, and refused to be separated 
 from him. When Sir Lionel proposed providing for him 
 well, and leaving him behind, Nick made no complaints, 
 but began industriously to starve himself to death. So, 
 of course, he had to be brought to England, and his master 
 just makes the best of him, costume, features, broomstick 
 legs, and all. 
 
 We had tea in a picture of Turner's : for Littlehampton, 
 with its tidal river, its harbour and pier, its fishing boats 
 and shining sails, its windmill, its goldy-brown sands, 
 and its banked violet clouds, was a genuine Turner. 
 Of course, he would n't have painted the Beach Hotel, 
 in spite of its nice balconies, but we were glad it was there, 
 and it did n't spoil the picture. 
 
 By that time, it was nearly half-past five, but we had 
 hours of daylight before us, so we stopped for a look at 
 Climping Church (don't you love the "ing" that shows 
 a place has kept its Saxon name ?) with its splendid Norman 
 doorway and queer, long windows, shaped like open pods 
 of peas beautifully ornamented round their edges. Thank 
 goodness, there was nothing "perp" about it! I get so 
 tired of "perp" things in guide books. 
 
 Slinden we glanced at, too, a most idyllic village, gar- 
 risoned with the noblest beeches I ever saw. Hilaire 
 Belloc, whose " Path to Rome " we liked so much, stayed
 
 SET IN SILVER 99 
 
 at Slinden, writing delightful things about Sussex. I 
 mean to get and read all I can, because, even in the glimpse 
 I 've had, I can see that Sussex has a character, as well as 
 a charm, individually its own. The Downs give it, and 
 make you feel that a true man of Sussex would be frank, 
 warm-hearted, simple and brave, with old-fashioned ways 
 which, with a pleasant obstinacy, he would be loath to 
 change. I heard Mrs. Tupper quote two or three quaint 
 proverbs which were new to me, but Sir Lionel said they 
 were old, almost, as the Sussex downs, and as racy of the 
 soil. I always associated Brighton with Sussex, which 
 made it seem a sophisticated county: but you see, true 
 Sussex the Downs stands all independent and sturdy, 
 between the pleasure-places by the sea and the snug 
 Weald. 
 
 The faces we passed did n't look like faces descended 
 from smugglers, they seemed so kind and good; but then, 
 of course, smuggling was quite a respectable industry in 
 Sussex, where the secretive formation of the coast clearly 
 showed that Providence had meant it to epict. I love the 
 Sussex downs, I like the Sussex faces, and I admire the 
 Sussex church spires tall and pointed, covered with 
 lichened shingles. 
 
 We stopped at Boxgrove, too, a church adored by 
 architects ; and as we went our way to Goodwood the sea 
 was a torn sheet of silver seen behind great downs which 
 the afternoon sun was gilding. Oh, the Lebanon cedars and 
 the views of Goodwood! If I were there for the races, I 
 think not even the finest horses, the most beautiful women, 
 and the prettiest frocks in England could hold my eyes 
 long from that view. I can shut my eyes now the day
 
 100 SET IN SILVER 
 
 after and see those Lebanon cedars black against 
 an opal sky. Another picture I can see, too, is Bosham 
 Church, standing up tall and pure as a gray nun singing 
 an Ave Maria beside the clear water. It comes back to 
 me from my studies of English history that Vespasian had 
 a villa there, and that Harold sailed from Bosham. Do 
 you know, he 's in the act of doing it on the Bayeux 
 tapestry? Once, the Danes stole the Bosham church 
 bells, and the dear things still ring at the bottom of the sea, 
 because the robber ship was wrecked, and went down 
 with the chime, in mid channel. I like that story. It 
 matches the picture and the tapestry. 
 
 Our day stopped at Chichester, and my letter must stop, 
 too, for all this I tell you of was only yesterday. We 
 arrived last evening, and now it 's nearly midnight of the 
 next day. I began to write just after dinner, sitting in my 
 dear old-fashioned room, and if I don't soon say good-night 
 I shan't get much beauty sleep. To-morrow morning, at 
 half-past nine, we 're going on; but before we start I '11 
 scribble a Chichester postscript. So you see, I must be up 
 bright and early, especially as I mean to fly out for one 
 more glimpse of the cathedral though I spent most of 
 this afternoon in it. 
 
 I wonder if you are sparing a few minutes to-night to 
 
 dream of , T . 
 
 YOUR ATJDRIE ? 
 
 P. S. Eight -twenty in the morning, and I 've been up 
 for two hours. 
 
 You 'd like Chichester immensely. I don't say "love," 
 for it hasn't engaged my affections, somehow; but I do 
 love the beautiful jewel of a market cross, and some of
 
 SET IN SILVER 101 
 
 the tombs in the cathedral. The cross is quite a baby 
 compared with lots of others, it seems, being only just born 
 at the time Henry VIII. was cutting off pretty ladies' heads 
 when he had tired of their hearts. Several tombs are 
 so lovely, you almost want to be dead, and have one as 
 like as possible; but, though part of the cathedral is satis- 
 fyingly old (eleventh century), its new spire reminds one of 
 a badly chosen hat, and the whole building somehow 
 looks cold and dull, like a person with a magnificent 
 profile who never says anything illuminating. 
 
 As for Chichester itself, except the market cross, the only 
 thing that has touched my heart was St. Mary's Hospital, 
 surely the quaintest old almshouse on earth. The town 
 has rather a self -conceited air to me, and unless one were 
 wise, one might n't realize without being informed that 
 it 's immemorably old. Of course, though, if one were 
 wise, one would know the Romans had had a hand in the 
 making or re-making of it, because of the geometric, 
 regular way in which it 's built. Sir Lionel Pendragon 
 told me that. He seems to remember all he ever learned, 
 whereas ever so many little bundles are already knocking 
 about in dusty corners of my brain, with their labels lost. 
 
 There could n't be a more thrilling road than the road 
 along which we came to Chichester, and by which we will 
 leave it in a few minutes now. Think of Roman Stane 
 Street, and listen for the rumble of ghostly chariot wheels ! 
 Then if you 5 ve not come this way for Goodwood races 
 you can throw your mind a little further ahead to the 
 days of the crusaders and the pilgrims; and to kings' pro- 
 cessions glittering with gold and glossy with velvets; to 
 armies on their way_to fight; and further ahead, to coaches
 
 102 SET IN SILVER 
 
 plying along the Portsmouth road. I wonder how many 
 people in the hundreds of motors that flash back and forth 
 each day do think of it all? I pity those who don't, 
 because they lose a thought that might embroider their 
 world with rich colours. 
 
 P.P.S. I met Sir Lionel, accidentally, of course, in the 
 cathedral this morning, where he, too, was saying good- 
 bye to the most fascinating of the old tombs. And was n't 
 it odd, we had the same favourites? They looked even 
 nicer and queerer than yesterday, with no Mrs. Norton 
 to spatter inappropriate remarks about. 
 
 We walked back to the hotel together, and he asked me, 
 just as we were coming in, whether my allowance was 
 enough, or would I like to have more ? 
 
 I had burst out that it was heaps, before I stopped to 
 realize that he was asking that question really of Ellaline, 
 not of me. Perhaps I ought to have temporized, and said 
 I would make up my mind in a few days meanwhile 
 writing to her. I suppose she must be quite an heiress; 
 but he can't be as mercenary as she thinks, or he would n't 
 have made such a suggestion. 
 
 I 'm called ! The motor 's ready. I '11 post this from 
 the hotel.
 
 IX 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Southsea, July Wth 
 
 DEAREST: This address is n't part of our plan of cam- 
 paign. We 'd meant to pass through, after pausing on the 
 way just long enough to see Portsmouth Harbour, and 
 Dickens's birthplace; but we 've stopped here on my 
 account, and now I wish we had n't. I '11 tell you why, 
 in a minute; but if I don't mention a few other things first, 
 they '11 be crowded out, and I shall forget them. 
 
 After we 'd seen the birthplace, and were seeing the 
 harbour, Sir Lionel asked if I 'd care to go on board a 
 man-o'-war. Of course, my answer was "Yes"; and he 
 said there was an old friend of his whom he would like to 
 see, Captain Starlin, of the Thunderer, so he 'd ask for an 
 invitation. 
 
 He scribbled things in pencil on a visiting-card, and sent 
 it on board the big gray monster, by a nice low-necked 
 sailor. Of course, the invitation which came back was 
 most cordial, and even Mrs. Norton appeared pleased with 
 the idea of going over the ship. We were received by the 
 Captain himself rather a young-looking man, whose 
 complexion seemed to have slipped down, like Sir Lionel's, 
 both their foreheads being quite white, and the rest of their 
 faces tanned brown. He took us everywhere, showing us 
 103
 
 104 SET IN SILVER 
 
 interesting things, and presently said that, not only must 
 we dine with him that evening, but must stay to a dance 
 that was to be given on board afterward. 
 
 "Oh, many thanks, but we 're only motoring through, 
 and go on this afternoon," began Sir Lionel. Then he 
 stopped short, and looked at me. "Would you like to 
 dance?" he asked. 
 
 "She hasn't anything to wear, if she would," Mrs. 
 Norton answered for me. "You were so strict about 
 luggage, we 've only two evening dresses apiece, plain 
 things for hotel dinners, nothing at all suitable to a dance." 
 
 "Did n't you buy her anything good enough for dances 
 that day in Bond Street?" snapped the Dragon. 
 
 " You bought her several things almost too good for 
 dances, at her age," retaliated the Dragon's sister, but only 
 in a gentle coo. "They 're left at the Ritz, awaiting 
 instructions to go on to Graylees, with most of our things, 
 and will probably be all beggars' creases before she has a 
 chance to wear them." 
 
 "She shall have a chance to wear any or all of them 
 to-night, if she wants to dance," said Sir Lionel. 
 
 "Of course she wants to dance," chimed in Captain 
 Starlin. " Did you ever see a young lady who did n't want 
 to dance, especially on a man-o'-war?" 
 
 "Do you want to ?" repeated the Dragon. 
 
 Between them I was quite dashed, and murmured 
 something non-committal about its being very nice, if it 
 had been convenient, but 
 
 "There is no 'but,' " said Ellaline's guardian. "That 
 settles it. We stop the night in Southsea, where there 's 
 no doubt a good hotel; and I will send someone immedi-
 
 SET IN SILVER 105 
 
 ately to the Ritz for your boxes, Emily and yours." He 
 never calls me by name if he can help it. 
 
 Emily was inclined to object that it would be foolish to 
 send, and we did n't want all our things anyway, till her 
 brother gave her a look not cross, but well, just one 
 of his looks that make you do things, or stop doing them, 
 whichever he pleases; and she did n't say any more. 
 
 I can't help rather liking his masterful ways, though 
 they 're old-fashioned now that we 're all supposed to 
 think we need votes more than frocks; but this time it 
 really would have been ungrateful of me to disapprove, as 
 the whole fuss was being made for me. And I was dying 
 to go to the dance! 
 
 We went quickly back to the motor, spun into Southsea, 
 and before the female contingent knew exactly what was 
 happening to it, rooms were engaged for the night, and a 
 "responsible person " despatched by the first train to town, 
 with a letter demanding certain articles of our luggage. 
 
 I was quite excited about the evening, but outwardly 
 was "more than usual calm," as we wandered here and 
 there, after luncheon, seeing Southsea which must, by 
 the way, be a most convenient place for girls, as they can 
 choose between Navy and Army, or play with both if they 
 are pretty enough. Just as we were going to have a run out 
 to Hayling Island in the car, whom should we meet in the 
 street, close to our hotel, but Mrs. Senter and Dick Burden. 
 
 She was looking very fetching and young, almost like 
 a girl, certainly as unlike an aunt as possible. And, 
 mother, I know it was n't an accident. I don't mean about 
 her being an aunt, of course, but being in Southsea and 
 meeting us.
 
 106 SET IN SILVER 
 
 The day she called, in London, when Sir Lionel was in 
 Warwickshire, I heard her asking Mrs. Norton questions 
 about our route; and when dear Emily mentioned Win- 
 chester, she said, "Oh, won't you be passing through 
 Southsea ? N " 
 
 Mrs. Norton answered in her vague little way that she 
 was sure she did n't know. Then Mrs. Senter went on to 
 say that she and Dick were invited to stay at a house near 
 Southsea, and she thought they would probably accept. 
 Perhaps, if they did, we might meet. But, as I wrote you, 
 I thought it more likely we would n't, unless Sir Lionel 
 should seem keen when he heard; and he didn't. He 
 apparently took no interest whatever when his sister 
 repeated the conversation to him next day. 
 
 Well, I 'm sure Mrs. Senter made up her mind to accept 
 her friend's invitation (even if she did n't ask for one) 
 . the minute she found out that we were likely soon to pass 
 Southsea. She must have known we would be sure to 
 stop for a look round Portsmouth and the neighbourhood, 
 and thought the chance worth taking. If she had n't, she 
 would have stopped in London till the end of the season, no 
 doubt, for she 's the kind of person who lives for Society, 
 and only cares for the country when it 's the fashion to be 
 in it. 
 
 I would n't be a bit surprised if she 'd been patrolling 
 the streets of Portsmouth and Southsea for a day or two, 
 in the hope of running across us sooner or later. Or, as 
 Dick Burden fancies himself in the part of a detective, 
 perhaps he hit upon some surer way of getting at us. 
 
 Those two, aunt and nephew, play into each other's 
 hands beautifully. Mamma, it seems, is visiting in Scot-
 
 SET IN SILVER 107 
 
 land at the moment, so they hunt in couples. How long 
 "Aunt Gwen" has been a widow the saints may know; 
 I don't but anyway she has begun to "take notice," 
 as people say about bright little babies. She has looked 
 up Sir Lionel in Debrett, and marked him with a red cross 
 for her own, I believe. Such impudence! A woman like 
 that, to dare think of trying to grab a man of his position 
 and record ! She ought to know how unsuitable she would 
 be for him. 
 
 As for Dick, of course he wants to flirt with me; but wait 
 wait till you hear the latest developments. 
 
 Sir Lionel seemed neither pleased nor displeased at the 
 meeting, but he could not have suspected it was more than 
 an accident, for he remarked that it was odd we should run 
 up against each other like this! 
 
 Mrs. Senter said yes, indeed, it was, she was never more 
 surprised in her life, though really it would have been odd, 
 when one came to think of it, if we had n't met, since she 
 and Dick were stopping with friends on Hayling Island, 
 and were con >tantly in Southsea. 
 
 "Do let mi write a note to my friend Captain Starlin, 
 and get you all invitations to the Thunderer dance 
 to-night," she tacked on to the tail of her explanation. 
 
 "He's an old friend of mine, too," said Sir Lionel, 
 "and we 've not only invitations already, but have 
 accepted them, and sent for my sister's and Miss Leth- 
 bridge's clothes." 
 
 Her face fell a little for an instant when she heard we 'd 
 sent for clothes, as probably Emily and I would have 
 suited her better in our worst things; but she brightened 
 up and said how pleased she was, because she and Dick
 
 108 SET IN SILVER 
 
 were both going, and now they would really look 
 forward to the dance; Dick had been bored with the idea 
 before. 
 
 Well, the boxes came in good time, and the Bond Street 
 darlings were n't crushed in the least, because I had put 
 them to bed so nicely with sheets and pillows of tissue 
 paper. I decided to wear a pink chiffon, with tiny button 
 roses laid like a dainty frame all round the low neck and 
 where the sleeves ought to have been but were n't. The 
 chiffon 's embroidered with roses to match. Can you 
 imagine me in such a dream ? I can't. But it suits me, 
 rather. I wore pink shoes and stockings and gloves, all 
 of the same shade, and poor Emily in gray silk, with her 
 hair done in an aggressively virtuous way, looked like a 
 cross between an Anglican nun and a tourist economizing 
 luggage. Yet she would n't have been shocked if her 
 brother 'd had a harem in Bengal, because it was "good 
 form." But of course, as she says, one is obliged to excuse 
 things in men. 
 
 It was very amusing having dinner in the Captain's 
 room, which was large and quite charming, with curtains 
 and frilly silk cushions, and heaps of framed, signed 
 photographs, and books, almost as if a woman had 
 arranged it. But he told us one felt the motion there, 
 more than anywhere else, in a storm; which must 
 be some consolation to the "middies" who have to 
 work for years before they can ever hope for such luxu- 
 rious quarters. 
 
 Mrs. Senter and Dick were n't at dinner, which was one 
 comfort. Besides ourselves, there were only the Captain's 
 married sister, who had come from town for the dance, and
 
 SETINSILVER 109 
 
 her husband. The husband 's an earl Lord Knares- 
 brook; rather old; but Lady Knaresbrook is young, 
 frightfully pretty, and knows it. She flirted fascinatingly 
 at dinner with Sir Lionel; not as Mrs. Senter flirts, flicker- 
 ing her eyelashes, saying smart things as if to amuse him 
 alone, and hang everyone else! but just looking at him, 
 with gorgeous, starry eyes; asking a question now and 
 then, and listening with all her soul. I 'm not sure it 
 is n't an equally effective way, especially when done in a 
 diamond tiara by a countess under twenty-five. I should 
 quite have enjoyed watching it if Sir Lionel had been a 
 stranger, but knowing him somehow made me feel 'pon 
 honour not to look, and rather restless. I do believe that, 
 compared with some of these men, who 've been at the 
 other end of the world for years doing important political 
 things, Samson with his hair all cropped off was adamant 
 to Lovely Woman! 
 
 Naturally, I had to have something to look at, and I 
 could n't look at Lord Knaresbrook because the shape of 
 his nose worried me; and anyhow he wanted to talk to 
 Emily about people they both knew. Such exciting bits 
 as this floated to my ears : "Ah, yes, he was the great-grand- 
 son of Lord This. She married the Duke of That's 
 second cousin." So I looked a good deal at Captain Star- 
 lin, and he looked at me and not at very much else, which 
 was quite easy, the most important lady being his own 
 sister, who took the place of hostess; so Mrs. Norton was 
 on his right and I on his left. As he was our host, and 
 evidently wanted to flirt a little, I thought it my duty to 
 gratify his wish, and played up to him. That was quite 
 right, was n't it ? I 'm sure you '11 say yes, as you are a
 
 110 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Parisienne, and have brought me up to do unto others as 
 I would be done by. But several times I happened to 
 catch Sir Lionel's eyes, and they had a gloomy glint in 
 them; not angry, but as if he 'd discovered a screw loose 
 in me. I felt as uncomfortable as you do with a smudge 
 on your nose, which you see in shop-window mirrors 
 when you 've forgotten your handkerchief; but it was 
 too late to change my behaviour suddenly, so I went on 
 as I had begun. 
 
 We mere female's did n't leave the men at the table, 
 perhaps because there was n't any place where it would 
 have been proper for us to wander unmanned. We sat for 
 hours, and Lady Knaresbrook smoked, and wanted us to 
 smoke, though of course she must have known that no 
 woman with her hair done like Emily's would. Emily 
 looked shocked, but just pressed in her lips, and did n't 
 disapprove out aloud, as she might if Lady Knaresbrook 
 had been plain "Mrs." But afterward she told me she 
 was now ready to believe "all they say" about Diana 
 Knaresbrook. Just because she smoked! Mrs. Norton 
 could find immorality in a hard-boiled egg if she looked 
 for it. 
 
 At last we went above, or whatever you call it on a ship, 
 and everything had been made beautiful with flags and 
 bunting; but nothing was as beautiful as those sailor men 
 themselves, especially the middies. I felt like their mother 
 (I hope that 's not unmaidenly ?) and should have loved 
 to smooth their hair and pat them on the cheek of 
 which, by the way, they had plenty! 
 
 A good many were introduced to me; and Dick brought 
 his aunt very early, because, he said, he did n't want to
 
 SET IN SILVER 111 
 
 find all my dances gone. You can believe I had n't saved 
 any for him! But as a matter of fact, I had kept back two, 
 thinking Sir Lionel might ask me; for after his many 
 kindnesses I should n't have liked to seem not to want to 
 dance with him, you see. When he did n't ask at first, 
 I supposed it might be because he was n't a dancing man 
 (horrid expression ! sounds like a trained bear) ; but 
 presently I saw him waltzing with Lady Knaresbrook; and 
 he danced beautifully, as if he 'd done nothing else all those 
 years in Bengal. Then I said to myself: "He 's vexed 
 with me because he thinks I behaved badly at dinner, and 
 perhaps I did." And I almost hoped he would suggest 
 sitting out a dance, so that we could talk. 
 
 But then Dick came; and when he found I had two 
 dances, he wanted them both. "There are things I must 
 tell you," he said. And, mother, it 's easy to see that the 
 creature has some talent as a detective, because he guessed 
 at once why I 'd been saving those dances. 
 
 " It 's no good keeping anything up your sleeve for 
 Pendragon," said he, in his perky way, as if he were on an 
 equality with the ex-Lieutenant-Governor of East Bengal. 
 "He won't ask you to dance. He thinks you 're a little 
 girl, and is leaving you to little boys, like me, which is 
 quite right. The only woman he 's ever taken any interest 
 in for the last fifteen years is Aunt Gwen. And you can't 
 say he does n't show good taste." 
 
 I could n't, especially as Mrs. Senter was looking like 
 the heroine of a novel which you 'd be sure to forbid my 
 reading; so I gave him the dances, partly for that reason 
 and partly because I was cowardly enough to want to hear 
 what he had to tell. Just at the moment he could n't say
 
 112 SET IN SILVER 
 
 more, though, because a sweet brown lamb of a middy 
 came and whirled me away. So it went on for half the 
 evening, until it was nearly time for Dick Burden's first 
 dance, and I was sitting down to breathe (after a furious 
 galop, which did n't go at all well with a Directoire dress), 
 beside Mrs. Norton, who had the air of thinking a ball- 
 room a sort of pound for lost souls. 
 
 Up came Sir Lionel as if to speak to her, and I don't 
 know what made me do it I said, "I saved a dance for 
 you, but you never asked me for it, so I gave it to 
 someone else." 
 
 His face got red. Perhaps he thought I was lecturing 
 him for being rude. 
 
 "Did you give it to Starlin ?" he asked, bluntly. 
 
 "No. I 've had mine with Captain Starlin. To Mr. 
 Burden," said I. 
 
 "Do you want to dance it with him?" 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 " Chuck him, then, and dance it with me. I should like 
 to talk to you." 
 
 "That 's what he said." 
 
 "Do you want to hear what he 's got to say ?" 
 
 (Well, you know, dear, I had wanted to; but suddenly 
 I felt as if Dick did n't matter more than a fly, nor did any 
 one else except the person I was talking to. You do feel 
 like that with these quiet, masterful sort of people, whether 
 you care for them or not. It 's just a kind of momentary 
 hypnotism; or, at least, that 's the definition I 've been 
 giving myself.) 
 
 "I don't want to hear what he 's got to say," my hypno- 
 tized Me answered, in the queer, abrupt way in which we
 
 SET IN SILVER 113 
 
 had begun snapping out little short sentences to each other. 
 "I 'm sure he could n't say anything really interesting." 
 
 "Don't you like Dick Burden ?" 
 
 "Not much." 
 
 "Then the dance is mine. Which is it?" 
 
 "The next. Here he comes now. I see the top of his 
 head, over the shoulder of that youth with the collar of a 
 curate and the face of a convict." 
 
 The Dragon smiled benevolently at my wicked descrip- 
 tion of a comparatively inoffensive person, and whisked 
 me off. 
 
 "Are you offended with me?" I asked, as we waltzed 
 a weird but heavenly Hungarian waltz (made in Germany). 
 
 " Why do you ask that ? " he wanted to know. 
 
 "Because you looked offended at dinner. What had I 
 done ? Eaten something with the wrong fork ? " 
 
 "You had done nothing I oughtn't to have been pre- 
 pared to see you do." 
 
 " What ought you to be prepared to see me do ? " 
 
 " It does n't matter now." 
 
 " It does. If you don't tell me, I shall scream ' Murder ' 
 at the top of my lungs, and then you '11 have to speak." 
 
 " I certainly would n't. I 'd bundle you home at once." 
 
 " I have n't got any home." 
 
 "My home is yours, till you marry." 
 
 "Or you do." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense." (He was probably going to 
 say "Tommy-rot" but considered such striking words 
 unfit for the ear of a debutante. This was my debut, I 
 suppose? My very first ball.) 
 
 "Then tell me what you were unprepared for in me."
 
 114 SET IN SILVER 
 
 "I was prepared for it at first, before I saw you. 
 But " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Well, if you will have it, for your flirting." 
 
 Suddenly I felt impish, and said, innocently, that I 
 supposed it was what girls came on board men -o'- war to 
 do, so I had only done my best to please. By this time 
 we 'd stopped dancing, and were sitting down. I 'd 
 forgotten Dick Burden. 
 
 " It all depends upon the point of view," he answered, 
 with rather a disgusted air. 
 
 "My point of view is," said I, gravely, " that soldiers 
 as well as sailors should approve of flirting, because 
 flirtation is a warlike act; a short incursion into the 
 enemy's country, with the full intention of getting back 
 untouched." 
 
 "Ah, but what of the enemy ?" suggested the Dragon. 
 
 " He can always take care of himself on such incursions." 
 
 " So that 's the theory ? And at nineteen you have 
 enlisted in that army?" 
 
 "What army?" 
 
 "The great army of flirts." 
 
 I could n't keep it up any longer, for I had really started 
 in to explain, not to joke. And you know, dear, that 
 flirting as a profession would n't be in my line at all. 
 
 "Do I look like a flirt?" I asked. 
 
 "No. You don't," said he. " And I was beginning to 
 hope " 
 
 " Please go on hoping, then," I said. " Because I did n't 
 want to behave badly. If I did, it was because I don't 
 quite know the game yet. And I wanted to tell you that
 
 SETINSILVER 115 
 
 I did n't really mean to be silly and schoolgirlish, and 
 disgrace you and Mrs. Norton." 
 
 Then it was his turn to apologize, and he did it 
 thoroughly. He said that I had n't been silly, and so 
 far from disgracing him, he was proud of me " proud 
 of his ward." It was only that I seemed so much more 
 womanly and companionable than he 'd expected, that he 
 could n't bear to see in me, or think he saw, any like- 
 ness whatever to inferior types of woman. Whereupon 
 I had the impertinence to ask why he 'd expected me to be 
 inferior; but the only explanation I could get him to make 
 was that he did n't know much about girls. Which he 
 had remarked before. 
 
 We 'd sat out two dances before we I mean I knew 
 it; and nobody had dared to come near us, because a 
 middy can't very well snatch a partner out of a celebrity's 
 pocket. And Dick, too, though he seems to have the 
 courage of most of his convictions, drew the line at that. 
 But suddenly I did remember. I smiled at a hovering 
 laddie with the most smoothly polished hair you ever saw, 
 just like a black helmet; and when the laddie had swung 
 me away in the Merry Widow waltz Sir Lionel went back 
 to Mrs. Senter. Rather an appropriate air for her to 
 dance to, I thought. I do pray I 'm not getting kitten- 
 catty ? Anyhow, I 'm not in my second kittenhood ! 
 
 You will be wondering by this time why I 'm sorry we 
 stayed at Southsea, when it was all for me, and I seem to 
 have been having the "time of my life." But I'm 
 coming to the part you want to know about. 
 
 I thought perhaps Dick Burden would be vexed at my 
 going off with Sir Lionel, under his nose, just as he was
 
 116 SETINSILVER 
 
 ready to say "my dance." However, he walked up to 
 me as if nothing had happened, when it was time for the 
 second, so I did n't apologize. I thought it best to let sleep- 
 ing partners lie. 
 
 We danced a little, but Dick, who is one-and -twenty, 
 does n't waltz half as well as Sir Lionel, who is forty; and 
 he saw that I thought so. Presently he asked if I 'd rather 
 sit out the rest, and I answered, yes; so he said he would 
 tell me the things he had to say. He found a quiet place, 
 which must have looked as if deliberately selected for a 
 desperate flirtation; and then he did n't do much 
 beating about the bush. He just told me that he knew 
 everything. He 'd partly " detected " it, and partly found 
 out by chance; but of course he made the most of the 
 detecting bit. 
 
 Don't be frightened and get a palpitation at the news, 
 dearest; it is n't worth it. There 's going to be no flare- 
 up. Of course, if I were the heroine of a really nice melo- 
 drama, in such a scene as Dick and I went through, I should 
 have been accompanied by slow music, with lime-light every 
 time I turned my head, which would have heartened me 
 up very much; while Dick would have had villain music 
 plink, plink, plunk! But I did as well as I could with- 
 out an accompaniment, and I think, on the whole, 
 managed the business very well. 
 
 You see, I had to think of Ellaline. I dared not let her 
 out of my mind for a single instant, for if I should fail her 
 now, at the crucial time, it would be my fault if her love 
 story burst and went up the spout. If I 'd stopped think- 
 ing of her, and saying in my mind while Dick talked, "I 
 must save Ellaline, no matter what happens to me!" I
 
 SET IN SILVER 117 
 
 should certainly have boxed his ears and told him to go 
 to limbo. 
 
 He began by telling me that he 'd met a friend of mine, 
 a Miss Bennett Kathy Bennett. Oh, mother, just for a 
 minute my heart beat under my pretty frock like a bird 
 caught in a child's hand ! You remember my writing you 
 what a friendship Ellaline and Kathy struck up, before 
 Kathy left school to go back to England, and how she sent 
 Ellaline cuttings from the London Radical papers about 
 Sir Lionel Pendragon in Bengal ? I do think it 's almost 
 ungentlemanly of so many coincidences to happen in con- 
 nection with what I 'm trying to do for Ellaline. But 
 Kathy 's such a lump, it 's too great a compliment to 
 call her a coincidence. Anyhow, Dick met her in 
 town, at a tea party (a " bun worry, " he called it) where he 
 went with his dear Aunt Gwen ; and when Kathy men- 
 tioned being at school at Madame de Maluet's, he asked if 
 she knew Miss Lethbridge. She said of course she did, 
 and she thought Ellaline was a " very naughty little thing " 
 not to write or come and see her. She had read in the 
 papers about the arrival of Sir Lionel with his sister and 
 ward, you see. 
 
 Dick remarked that he 'd hardly call Miss Lethbridge 
 a " little thing," whereupon Kathy defended her adjective 
 by saying Ellaline was only about up to her ear. 
 
 Of course that set Mr. Dick's detective bump to throb- 
 bing furiously. He reassured me by announcing that he 
 had n't said any more to Kathy, but that he 'd thought a 
 lot. In fact, he thought so much that he asked if she 'd 
 give him a line of introduction to Madame, as he had a 
 cousin vrho wanted to go to a French school, and next
 
 118 SET IN SILVER 
 
 time he "ran across to Paris," he might have a look at 
 Versailles. Kathy gave the note, and that same night, if 
 you '11 believe it, the horrid little boy did "run across." 
 At the earliest hour possible in the morning he called at the 
 school, only to find Madame already away for her holidays. 
 But you know she always leaves her sister, Mademoiselle 
 Prado, to look after things, and when Mademoiselle heard 
 what Dick wanted, she showed him all over the place. He 
 said he would like to see photographs of the young ladies 
 in groups, if any such existed, because he could write his 
 Australian cousin what nice, happy-looking girls they were. 
 Promptly that poor, unsuspecting female produced the 
 big picture Madame had done of the tea-party on the lawn, 
 a year ago in June, and there was I in it. But Dick was 
 too foxy to begin by asking questions about me. Kathy 
 adorned the photograph also, with Ellaline on her 
 right and me in the perspective of her left ear, which 
 must have seemed to point at me accusingly. Dick 
 could claim Kathy quite naturally, as he 'd come with 
 her letter, and presently he led up to me, saying he 
 seemed to have seen me somewhere. Was I a great 
 friend of Miss Bennett's, and was it probable that she 
 had my portrait ? 
 
 Mademoiselle innocently said no, Miss Bennett was 
 much more likely to have Mees Lethbridge's portrait than 
 Mees Brendon's, as Mees Brendon was not a pupil of the 
 school, only a teacher of singing, and Mees Kathy was not 
 musical. But Mees Lethbridge, la petite jeune fille on the 
 right, was a friend of Mees Bennett. 
 
 Now you '11 admit that Dick was rather smart to have 
 chopped all these branches off the tree of knowledge with
 
 SET IN SILVER 119 
 
 his little hatchet. I think his cleverness worthy of a 
 better cause. 
 
 The next thing he did was to ask, naively, if that Miss 
 Lethbridge was the Miss Lethbridge the ward of Sir 
 Lionel^Pendragon, so much talked of in the papers just 
 now ? Proud that her sister's school had moulded a cele- 
 brity, Mademoiselle chatted away about Ellaline, saying 
 what a dear child she was, how sorry Madame was to part 
 from her, and how Madame de Blanchemain, Ellaline's 
 chere marraine, at St. Cloud, must be missing her mignonne 
 at this very moment. 
 
 It goes without saying that Mr. Dick's next step took 
 him at a single stride to St. Cloud. He did n't call on 
 Madame de Blanchemain, not wishing to stir up a tempest 
 in a teapot, but simply pryed and peered, and did all 
 sorts of sneaky things, only excusable in a professional 
 detective, who must (or thinks he must) live. 
 
 He found out about Madame de Blanchemain's 
 nephew, Ellaline's Honore, and put this and that to- 
 gether, until he 'd patched up the theory of a love affair. 
 But further he dared not go, on that track, so he 
 pranced back to Versailles, and found out things about 
 Audrie Brendon. 
 
 The way he did that was through noticing the name of 
 the Versailles photographer who took the group in the gar- 
 den. Dick called on him, and said he wanted a copy of the 
 picture, because his "cousin" was in it. The man had 
 several on hand, as parents occasionally wrote for them, 
 and when Dick got his he inquired who I was. The 
 obliging photographer, perhaps scenting a romance, told 
 him I lived in the Rue Chapeau de Marie Antoinette with
 
 120 SET IN SILVER 
 
 my mother. Then the wretch actually had the impudence 
 to describe to me a visit he paid our apartment, ringing 
 at the door, and asking dear Philomene for Madame 
 Brendon ! 
 
 In five minutes, he had heard all our family affairs, as far 
 as that dear, simple, talkative soul could tell him. That 
 you were in Switzerland, and I had gone to England to 
 visit a friend. 
 
 I sat and listened to the end of the story, saying never a 
 word, though I was in one of the moods which make me 
 a person that nobody but myself could stand for a moment. 
 I should simply have smiled if wild horses had come along 
 to tear him in two. 
 
 "So you see," said he, at last, when I did n't speak, 
 "I 'm in the game with you." 
 
 "It is n't my game," said I. 
 
 "You 're playing it," said he. 
 
 "Because I have to," said I. 
 
 "Is it Sir Lionel who 's making you play it ?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no, " I broke out, before I stopped to think. 
 
 "Then, he isn't in it?" 
 
 I thought it looked more respectable to admit that, 
 whatever the "game" was, Sir Lionel and I were not play- 
 ing it together. 
 
 "You 're doing it for your friend," deduced our young 
 detective. 
 
 I gently intimated that that was my business. But Mr. 
 Burden advised me that I would be wise to accept him as 
 my partner if I did n't want the business to fail. 
 
 "What have I done to you, that you should interfere?" 
 I wanted to know, only I did n't dare actually did n't
 
 SETINSILVER 121 
 
 dare, for Ellaline's sake, to speak angrily. Oh, I did feel 
 like a worm's paper doll ! 
 
 "You 've made me like you, awfully," he said. 
 
 "Then you should n't want to do me any harm," I 
 suggested. 
 
 "I don't want to do you harm," he defended himself. 
 "What I want is to see as much of you as possible, and 
 also I 'd like to give Aunt Gwen a little pleasure, thrown in 
 with mine. I want you to ask Sir Lionel to invite us to 
 join your party. There 's plenty of room for us in that 
 big motor-car of his. I went to see it in the garage to-day." 
 
 "You would!" I couldn't resist sputtering. But he 
 took no notice. 
 
 "You need n't be afraid that Aunt Gwen 's in this," he 
 went on to assure me. "I 've kept mum as an oyster. 
 All she knows is that I saw you Miss Lethbridge in 
 Paris, and have n't been the same man since. She helped 
 me get to know you, of course. She 's a great chum of 
 mine, and her being an old pal of Sir Lionel's too, meant 
 a lot for me in the beginning. She 's a ripper, and stanch 
 as they make 'em but they don't make 'em perfectly 
 stanch where other women are concerned. And as long 
 as you and I hunt in couples she shan't have a suspicion." 
 
 "You 'd tell her, if I refused to hunt in that way?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "I might think it my duty to let Sir Lionel know how 
 he 's being humbugged. At present I 'm shuttin' my eyes 
 to duty, and lookin' at you. What?" 
 
 "Why does Mrs. Senter want to come with us?" I 
 ventured to inquire. 
 
 "Because," explained her loyal nephew, "she 's fed up
 
 122 SET IN SILVER 
 
 with visiting, and she loves motoring. So do I, with the 
 right people. I 'm sure it 's not much to ask. We won't 
 sponge on Sir Lionel. We '11 pay our own hotel bills; and 
 I 'm sure, even though you are in a wax with me just now, 
 you must admit Aunt Gwen and I would wake things up 
 a bit what ? All 's fair in love and war, so you ought n't 
 to blame me for anything I 've done. You 'd think it 
 jolly well romantic if you read it in a book." 
 
 I denied this, but said I would consider. He must give 
 me till to-morrow morning to make up my mind; which 
 he flatly refused to do. To-morrow would be too late. 
 He saw in my eye that I hoped to slip off, but it was "no 
 good my being foxy." Things must be fixed up, or blown 
 up, on board this ship to-night. 
 
 Whether or not he really meant to do his worst, if I 
 would n't give in, I can't be sure, but he looked as obsti- 
 nate as six pigs, and I did n't dare risk Ellaline's future. 
 My own impression is that there 's a big mistake some- 
 where, and that she would be perfectly safe in Sir Lionel's 
 hands if she would tell him frankly all about Honore du 
 Guesclin I, meanwhile, vanishing through a stage trap 
 or something. But she may be right. And I may be 
 wrong. That 's why I was forced to promise Dick. And 
 I kept my promise, as soon as we got home to our hotel 
 Sir Lionel, Mrs. Norton, and I. 
 
 I knew it would be a most horrid thing to do, but it was 
 even horrider than I thought. 
 
 All the way going back I was planning what to say, and 
 feeling damp on the forehead, thinking how impudent it 
 would seem in me, a young girl and a guest, to make such 
 a suggestion. But it had to be done, so I screwed up my
 
 SETINSILVER 123 
 
 courage, swallowed half of it again, with a lump in my 
 throat, and exclaimed in a gay, spontaneous way, like the 
 sweet, innocent angel I am: "Oh, Sir Lionel, wouldn't 
 it be fun if Mrs. Senter and and her nephew were going 
 with us for a little way? They both love motoring." 
 
 He looked surprised and Emily pursed her lips. 
 
 " Do you want them to come ? " he asked. 
 
 " Well, I just thought of it," I stammered. 
 
 " I thought you did n't like Burden," he said. No won- 
 der, as I 'd unfortunately unbosomed myself of my real 
 sentiments not three hours before! 
 
 " I think he 's amusing enough," I tried to slide out of 
 the difficulty. " And Mrs Senter probably would n't go 
 without him." 
 
 " I somehow gathered an impression that you did n't 
 admire her particularly," went on Sir Lionel, looking 
 at me with a very straight look. 
 
 "Oh, I never said so!" I cried. "I admire her im- 
 mensely." 
 
 " In that case, I '11 ask them, with pleasure," said Sir 
 Lionel. "The idea did cross my mind in London, but I 
 did n't think you 'd care for it, somehow. Emily will be 
 pleased, I know. Won't you, Emily ? And if Mrs. Senter 
 will be as reasonable as you two in the matter of luggage 
 we shall have plenty of room." 
 
 " It is your car, and the idea of the tour is yours," said 
 Mrs. Norton, very feminine and resigned, also feeling that 
 my " cheek " deserved a tiny scratch. " I am pleased with 
 whatever pleases you" 
 
 Next morning (or rather the same morning, and this 
 morning) Sir Lionel got his sister to write a note to Mrs.
 
 124 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Senter, and he wrote one too, or added a P. S. "Aunt 
 Gwen's" reply was a ladylike warwhoop of joy; and we 
 are now waiting till the latest additions to our party have 
 broken the news to their hostess at Hayling Island, 
 packed a few things to take, and sent the rest " home " 
 (wherever that may be) with Mrs. Senter's maid. 
 Good-bye, my Parisienne Angel. 
 
 Your broken and badly repaired 
 AUDRIE-ELLALINE. 
 
 I long to hear whether you think I ought to have braved 
 Dick.
 
 SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL 
 PATRICK O'HAGAN 
 
 Royal Hotel, Winchester 
 July 2lst. Night 
 
 MY DEAR PAT: I thought of you on the Portsmouth 
 Downs yesterday, remembering a tramp you and I had 
 together, "exploring wild England," as we called it. We 
 then had a pose that all England, except "town," was 
 wild save only and always when there was any shoot- 
 ing of poor silly pheasants or hunting of "that pleasant 
 little gentleman," the fox. 
 
 After running out through Portsmouth, I suggested 
 stopping the car and mounting the downs above, on 
 foot, for a look at the view. There are now five in our 
 party, instead of three not counting Young Nick, who 
 has no stomach for views. At Ellaline's expressed wish, 
 Mrs. Senter and Dick Burden have come on with us from 
 Hayling Island, where they were staying. We met them 
 at a dance on the Thunderer, which Starlin captains. 
 They have been invited to be of the party for a fortnight 
 or so. 
 
 I should rather have liked to watch Ellaline's face as 
 she climbed the hill, her feet light on yielding grass, where 
 the gold of buttercups and turquoise of harebells lay 
 125
 
 126 SET IN SILVER 
 
 scattered as she climbed, and as she reached the top, to 
 see England spread under her eyes like a great ring. But 
 that privilege was Burden's. I hope he appreciated it. 
 Mine was to escort Mrs. Senter. I was glad she did n't 
 chat. I hate women who chat, or spray adjectives over 
 a view. 
 
 You remember it all, don't you ? On one side, looking 
 landward, we had a Constable picture : a sky with tumbled 
 clouds, shadowed downs, and forests cleft by a golden 
 mosaic of meadows. Seaward, an impressionist sketch of 
 Whistler's : Southampton Water and historic Portsmouth 
 Harbour; stretches of glittering sand with the sea lying 
 in ragged patches on it here and there like great pieces of 
 broken glass. Over all, the English sunshine pale as an 
 alloy of gold and silver; not too dazzling, yet discreetly 
 cheerful, like a Puritan maiden's smile; but not like Ella- 
 line's. Hers can be dazzling when she is surprised and 
 pleased. 
 
 I think I recall your talk with me on a height over- 
 looking the harbour perhaps the same height. We 
 painted a lurid picture, to harrow our young minds, of the 
 wreck of the Royal George. And we said, gazing across 
 the Downs, that England looked almost uninhabited. 
 Well, it appears no more populous now, luckily for the 
 picture. I heard Ellaline saying to Dick Burden that 
 the towns and villages might be playing at hide and seek, 
 they concealed themselves so successfully. Also I heard 
 her advise him to read "Puck of Pook's Hill," and was 
 somewhat disappointed that she 'd already had it, as I 
 bought it for her in Southsea yesterday. Probably she 
 won't care to read it again. Perhaps I had better give the
 
 SETINSILVER 127 
 
 book to Mrs. Senter, who is a more intellectual woman than 
 you and I supposed when she was playing with us all in 
 India. But one does n't talk books with pretty women in 
 the East. 
 
 You remember the day you and I walked to Winchester 
 from Portsmouth, starting early in the morning, with our 
 lunch in our pockets ? Well, we came along the same way, 
 past old William of Wykeham's Wickham, the queer mill 
 built of the Chesapeake's timbers, and Bishops' Waltham, 
 where the ruins of the Episcopal palace struck me as being 
 grander than I had realized. Ellaline was astonished at 
 coming upon such a splendid monument of the past by 
 the roadside, and was delighted to hear of the entertain- 
 ment Coeur de Lion was given in the palace after his 
 return from the German captivity. Of course the story 
 of the famous "Waltham Blacks" pleased her too. 
 Women can always forgive thieves, provided they 're 
 young, gay, and well born. 
 
 When Mrs. Senter found that Ellaline and my sister 
 were in the habit of sitting in the tonneau, Young Nick 
 beside me, she asked, after a little hesitation, if she might 
 take his place, leaving the chauffeur to curl himself up on 
 the emergency seat at my feet. She said that half the fun 
 of motoring was to sit by the man at the wheel and share 
 his impressions, like being in the forefront of battle, or 
 going to the first performance of a play, or being in at the 
 death with a hunt. So now you can imagine me with an 
 amusing neighbour, for naturally I consented to the 
 change. Neither Ellaline nor Emily had suggested 
 companioning me, and though I must say I had thought 
 of proposing it to Ellaline, I had n't found the courage.
 
 128 SET IN SILVER 
 
 She would no doubt have been too polite to refuse, while 
 perhaps disliking the plan heartily. Now, Burden has 
 been allotted a place with her and my sister, which is 
 probably agreeable to Ellaline. 
 
 Curious! Even the frankest of girls and I believe 
 Ellaline to be as frank as her sex allows can be secretive 
 in an apparently motiveless way. Why should she tell 
 me one moment that she did n't like Burden*, and the next 
 (practically) ask me to invite him and his aunt to travel 
 with us, because she "admires Mrs. Senter immensely"? 
 Or perhaps it is that the child does n't know her own mind. 
 I am studying her with deepening interest, but am not 
 likely to have as many opportunities now there are more of 
 us. She and Burden, being the young girl and the 
 young man of the party, will, of course, be much together, 
 and Mrs. Senter will fall to my lot for any excursions 
 which may not interest, or be too tiring for, Emily. This 
 boy's presence makes me realize, as I did n't until I had a 
 young man of twenty-one constantly under my eyes, that 
 the knocking of the "younger generation" has already 
 begun to sound on my door. I had better hearken, I 
 suppose, or some one else will kindly direct my attention 
 to the noise. I confess I don't like it, but it 's best to 
 know the worst, and keep the knowledge in the heart, 
 rather than read it in the mockery of some pretty girl's 
 eyes a pretty girl to whom one is an " old boy, " 
 perhaps. 
 
 Jove, Pat, that sticks in my gorge! It 's not a thought 
 to take to bed and go to sleep with if one wants pleasant 
 dreams. I 'm stronger than I ever was, my health is 
 perfect, I have few gray hairs, my back is straight. I feel
 
 SET IN SILVER 129 
 
 as if the elixir of youth ran hot in my veins. Yet one sees 
 headlines in the papers, "Too Old at Forty." And 
 one is forty. It did n't matter that is, I did n't think of 
 it, until the coming of this boy. 
 
 His very ideas and manners are different from mine. 
 No doubt they 're the approved ideas and manners of 
 his generation, as we had ours at his age. I wear my hair 
 short, and think no more of its existence except to wash 
 and brush it; but this Dick parts his in the middle, and 
 sleeks the long locks back, keeping them smooth as a sur- 
 face of yellowish satin, with bear's grease or lard, or some 
 appalling, perfumed compound. His look is a mixture 
 of laziness and impudence, and half his sentences he 
 ends up with "What?" or even "What- what?" His 
 way with women is slightly condescending, and takes 
 their approval for granted. There 's no youthful shyness 
 about him, and what he wants he expects to get; but with 
 me he puts on an irritating, though, I fear, conscientious 
 air of deference that relegates me to the background of 
 an older generation; sets me on a pedestal there, perhaps; 
 but I have no wish for a pedestal. 
 
 Still, to do him justice, the lad is neither ill-looking nor 
 ill-mannered. Indeed, woman may consider him engag- 
 ing. His aunt seems devoted to him, and says he is irresist- 
 ible to girls. I think if no "greenery yallery" haze 
 floated before my eyes, I might see that he is rather 
 a decent boy, extremely well-groomed, alert, with good, 
 short features and bright eyes. When he walks with 
 Ellaline he has no more than an inch the advantage of 
 her in height, but he has a well-knit figure and a " Sand- 
 hurst bearing."
 
 130 SET IN SILVER 
 
 "Crabbed age and youth cannot live together." 
 
 Am I crabbed age ? 
 
 Well, this long digression ought to bring me on as far 
 as Winchester, where we came yesterday afternoon, late. 
 We should have been earlier (though our start was delayed 
 by our guests' preparations), but Ellaline was fascinated by 
 the pretty village of Twyford. You remember it ? She 'd 
 been reading it up in a guide-book, and would stop for a 
 look at the place where the Fair Fitzherbert was said to 
 have been married to her handsome prince, later George 
 IV. I can't recall hearing that story, though certainly 
 Mrs. Fitzherbert's relations lived near; but I knew Pope 
 was sent down from school there because of a satire he 
 wrote on the master, and that Franklin visited and wrote 
 in Twyford. 
 
 It was after four when I turned the car round that sharp 
 corner which swings you into the Market Square of what 
 is to me the grandest and most historic town of England. 
 Why, it is England! Did n't the Romans get their Venta 
 Belgarum, which finally developed into Winta-ceaster 
 and Winchester, from the far older Celtic name for an 
 important citadel? Wasn't there a Christian church 
 before the days of Arthur, my alleged ancestor ? Was n't 
 the cathedral begun by the father of ^Elfred on the founda- 
 tions of that poor church as well as those of a Roman 
 temple ? Was n*t it here that the name of Anglia Eng- 
 land was bestowed on the United Kingdoms, and 
 was n't it from Winchester that ^Elfred sent out the laws 
 that made him and England "Great" ? 
 
 Ellaline delights in the fact that the said Roman temple 
 was Apollo's, as well as Concord's, she having named my
 
 SETINSILVER 131 
 
 car Apollo, and the Sun God being her favourite mytho- 
 logical deity at the moment. Apropos of mythology, by 
 the way, she was rather amusing this morning on the 
 subject of Icarus, who, she contends, was the pioneer of 
 sporting travel. If he did n't have "tyre trouble," said 
 she, he had the nearest equivalent when his wax wings 
 melted. 
 
 I should have enjoyed playing cicerone in Winchester, 
 knowing and loving the place as I do, if it had n't been for 
 Dick Burden's air of thinking such knowledge as mine 
 quite the musty-fusty luggage of the old fogy. There 's 
 no use pretending it did n't rub me up the wrong way ! 
 
 Yesterday after arriving, Emily clamoured for tea, so 
 we attempted no further sightseeing, but drove straight 
 to this delightful old hotel, which was once a nunnery, 
 and has still the nunnery garden, loved by the more 
 enterprising of cathedral rooks. Or are they the nuns 
 come back in disguise ? This, you '11 guess, is Ellaline's 
 idea. 
 
 On the way here, however, there was the beautiful City 
 Cross in the High Street. It would have been a disgrace 
 not to stop for a look at it, even though we could return; 
 and Ellaline was most enthusiastic. She does n't know 
 much about these things (how could she) ? but she feels by 
 instinct the beauty of all that is really fine; whereas Mrs. 
 Senter, though maybe better instructed, is more blasee. 
 Indeed, though she admires the right things, she is essenti- 
 ally the modern woman, whose interest is all in the present 
 and future. I can't imagine her reading history for the 
 sheer joy of it, as the child would and evidently has. Mrs. 
 Senter would prefer a French novel; but it would have to
 
 132 SET IN SILVER 
 
 be well written. She would accept no trash. She has an 
 elastic mind, I must say, and appeared satisfactorily 
 shocked when I told her how the Cross would have been 
 chopped up by Paving Commissioners in the eighteenth 
 century if the people had n't howled for its salvation. 
 
 The same sort of fellows did dump Alfred and his queen 
 out of their comfortable stone coffins, you know, to use the 
 stone. Brutes! What was St. Swithin thinking of to let 
 them do it ? A mercy it did n't occur to some commission 
 to take down Stonehenge. They could have made a lot 
 of streets with that. 
 
 In the Market Place, too, there was the ancient Fair of 
 Winchester to think of, the fair that had no rival except 
 Beaucaire; and I had been telling them all, on the way into 
 the town, how the woods round the city used to swarm 
 with robbers, hoping to plunder the rich merchants from 
 far countries. Altogether, I fancy even Dick was 
 somewhat impressed by the ancient as well as modern 
 importance of Winchester by the time we drove to the 
 hotel. 
 
 By and by, when we had our rooms and were washed 
 and refreshed, we drank tea in the garden, where old- 
 fashioned flowers were sweet; plenty of roses, stocks, and 
 pansies. (I had an old Scottish nurse when I was a foot 
 or two high, and I 've never forgotten what she said about 
 pansies. "They have aye the face of a smacked cat!" 
 It 's true, is n't it ? A cat glares and puts its ears back when 
 it 's smacked. Not that I ever smacked one to see.) 
 
 Afterward, I was not of a mind to propose anything. 
 I thought each had better follow his or her inclination for 
 what was left of the day; and mine was to stroll out and
 
 SET IN SILVER 133 
 
 review old memories. I should have liked to take Ellaline, 
 but fancied she might prefer society nearer her own age. 
 However, I came across her in the High Street, alone, 
 gazing fascinated at the window of an antique shop. 
 There are some attractive ones in Winchester. 
 
 I was n't sure if she were n't waiting for Dick, who might 
 have strolled away from her for a minute, so I would have 
 passed on if she had n't turned. 
 
 "Did you ever see anything so beautiful ? " she asked me. 
 
 I had, but I did n't say so. I liked her to like everything 
 in my Winchester, so I inquired what she admired most in 
 the shop window. She hardly knew. But there was some 
 wonderful old jewellery. 
 
 The girl was right. The antique jewellery was particu- 
 larly good. There were some admirable necklaces and 
 rings, with fine stones. 
 
 " What 's your birth month ? " I asked, on a sudden 
 thought. 
 
 "July," said she. 
 
 " What this very month ? I hope the birthday 
 has n't passed." 
 
 "No-o, not yet," she answered reluctantly. She saw 
 by now what was in the wind, and did n't want to seem 
 greedy. 
 
 I persisted. "Tell me when." 
 
 "The twenty-fifth. But you are not to." 
 
 " Not to what ? " 
 
 "You know." 
 
 "Yes, I will. It 's a guardian's duty to his ward, and 
 in this case a pleasure." 
 
 "I 'd much rather vou did n't, reallv." And she
 
 134 SET IN SILVER 
 
 looked as grave as a statue of Justice. " Some day you '11 
 know why." 
 
 I waived the subject at this point, for I felt obstinate, 
 and wanted to give her a present. There was, and is, no 
 doubt in my mind that her reason is a schoolgirl reason. 
 Madame de Maluet has probably brought her up to believe 
 it is not comme il faut for a jeune file to accept a present 
 from a monsieur. Still, her voice and expression were so 
 serious, even worried, that I 'm wondering if it could be 
 anything else. Anyhow, I have bought the present, and 
 intend to give it her on the 25th. It is a quaint old mar- 
 quise ring, with a cabuchon ruby surrounded by very good 
 diamonds. I think she will like it, and I don't see why she 
 should n't have it from me. I feel as if I would like 
 to make up to her for the injustice I 've been doing her in 
 my mind all these years since she was a little child, left 
 to me poor, lonely baby. Only I don't quite know how 
 to make up. I don't even dare to confess myself, and say 
 I am sorry I never seemed to take any interest in her as 
 she grew up. She must have wondered why I never 
 asked to have her picture sent me, or wanted her to write 
 or wrote; and she must have felt the cold neglect of the 
 only person (except an old French lady, her godmother) 
 who had any rights over her. Beast that I was ! And 
 I can't explain why I was a beast. No doubt she adores 
 the legend (it can't be a memory) of her mother, 
 and I would have it always so. She need never know any 
 of the truth, though of course, when she marries I shall 
 have to tell the man one or two things, I suppose. 
 
 I '11 let you know next time I write how the ring is 
 received.
 
 SET IN SILVER 135 
 
 This morning, after breakfast, we all walked about the 
 streets of Winchester, and, of course, went to the cathedral, 
 where we stopped till nearly two o'clock. 
 
 The town and the place have all then* old charm, and 
 even more for me; the "Piazza"; the huddled, narrow 
 streets full of mystery, the Cathedral Close with its 
 crowded entrance, its tall trees that try to hide cathedral 
 glories from common eyes; its mellow Queen Anne and 
 Georgian houses which group round in a pleasant, self- 
 satisfied way, as if they alone were worthy of standing- 
 room in that sacred precinct. 
 
 To me, there 's no cathedral in England that means as 
 much of the past as Winchester. You know how, in the 
 nave, you see so plainly the transition from one architec- 
 tural period to another ? And then, there are those splendid 
 Mortuary Chests. Think of old Kynegils, and the 
 other Saxon kings lying inside, little heaps of haunted dust. 
 
 I was silly enough to be immensely pleased that the 
 child picked out those Mortuary Chests in their high rest- 
 ing place, and the gorgeous alleged tomb of William Rufus, 
 as the most unforgettable among the smaller interests 
 of Winchester Cathedral, for they are the same with me; 
 and it 's human to like our tastes shared by (a few) others. 
 She was so enchanted to hear how William the Red was 
 brought by a carter to be buried in Winchester, and about 
 the great turquoise and the broken shaft of wood found in 
 the tomb, that I had n't the heart to tell her it probably 
 was n't his burial place, but that of Henri de Blois. 
 
 Of course she liked Bloody Mary's faldstool the one 
 Mary sat in for her marriage with Philip of Spain ; and the 
 MSS. signed by Alfred the Great as a child, with his father.
 
 130 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Women are caught by the personal element, I think, more 
 than we are. And so interested was she in Jane Austen's 
 memorial tablet, that she would n't be satisfied without 
 going to see the house where Jane died. There were so 
 many other things to see, that Emily and Mrs. Senter 
 would have left that out, but I wanted the girl to have 
 her way. 
 
 Poor little, sweet-hearted Jane ! She was only forty-one 
 when she finished with this world a year older than I. 
 But doubtless that was almost old for a woman of her day, 
 when girls married at sixteen, and took to middle-aged caps 
 at twenty-five. Now, I notice, half the mothers look 
 younger than their daughters younger than any daughter 
 would dare to look after she was " out." 
 
 A good many interesting persons seem to have died in 
 Winchester, if they were n't clever enough to be born in 
 the town. Earl Godwin set an early example in that 
 respect. Died, eating with Edward the Confessor 
 probably too much, as his death was caused by apoplexy, 
 and might not have happened if Edward had n't been too 
 polite to advise him not to stuff. 
 
 Of course, the cathedral is the great jewel; but for me 
 the old city is an ancient, kingly crown set full of jewels. 
 There 's the West Gate, for instance. You know how we 
 said it alone would be worth walking many miles to see. 
 And the old castle. I 'm not sure that is n't one of the 
 best sights of all. I took the party there after luncheon, 
 and the same delightful fellow showed us round. He 
 had 11 't changed since our time, unless he is more 
 mellow. 
 
 He was quite angry to-day with a German-American
 
 SET IN SILVER 137 
 
 woman the type, as Ellaline murmured to me, that alone 
 is capable of a plaid blouse. The lady inquired nasally 
 of our old friend, "Is this hall mod-ern; what you call 
 mod-em?" 
 
 We were at the moment gazing up at King Arthur's 
 Round Table, which Henry VIII. hung on the wall to save 
 it further vicissitudes, after Henry VII. had it daubed 
 with colours and Tudor roses, to furnish forth some 
 silly feast. 
 
 The dear old chap raised his eyebrows at the question, 
 and glanced round as if apologizing to each massive pillar 
 in turn. Well, he said, he would hardly call the hall 
 modern, as it had been built by William the Conqueror, 
 but perhaps the lady might be used to older things at home. 
 With that, he turned on an indignant heel, and led us 
 out to the courtyard where wretched Edward II.'s 
 brother, the Duke of Kent, was executed. He has the 
 same old trick of being "sorry to say" whenever he has 
 anything tragic or gruesome to relate, passing lightly over 
 details of oubliettes, and skeletons found without their 
 heads as so many were on grim St. Giles's Hill. 
 
 Of course we went and had a look at St. Cross and Henri 
 de Blois's old hospital almshouse. We would have 
 stopped there yesterday, if Emily had n't so ardently 
 desired tea. But, if I 'd thought to tell her about the 
 Dole of bread and beer, she might have been persuaded, 
 though my description of the exquisite windows in the 
 courtyard, and the quaint houses of the black and white 
 brethren, left her cold. We all had some of the Dole to-day 
 at the portal; and Mrs. Senter took it as a compliment 
 that each one was given so little. Tourists get tiny bits,
 
 138 SET IN SILVER 
 
 you know, and beggars big ones; so she thought it would 
 have been a sign that they disparaged the ladies' hats and 
 frocks if they had been more generous. It would be 
 difficult to disapprove of hers. She understands the art 
 of dress to perfection. 
 
 A pity we could n't have been here earlier in the year, 
 is n't it ? For among the nicest new things in old Win- 
 chester are the Winchester schoolboys. How they spurn 
 the ordinary tourist they meet in the street, and how 
 scornfully polite they are to any unfortunate straying beast 
 who asks them a question, making him feel meaner than 
 any worm! A foreigner must long to ask the consequential 
 youths to "kindly excuse him while he continues to 
 breathe"; for few strangers can sympathize with the 
 contempt we English have, while still in callow youth, for 
 everyone we don't know. But, let a newcomer blossom 
 into an acquaintance, or mention a relative at Eton, and 
 all is changed. The Winchester boys turn into the 
 most delightful chaps in the world. 
 
 I dare say I shall think Dick Burden a delightful chap 
 when I know him better. At present, it 's all I can do to 
 put up with him for the sake of his aunt. And the fellow 
 has such an ostentatiously frank way of looking one 
 straight in the eyes, that I 'm hanged if I 'd trust him to 
 go as straight. 
 
 Talking of going straight, to-morrow morning early we 
 leave for Salisbury, and when we feel like moving shall 
 pass on toward the New Forest. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 PEN.
 
 XI 
 
 ATJDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 White Hart Hotel, Salisbury 
 July 24th 
 
 DEAREST : I am particularly homesick for you to-night, 
 because it 's my birthday eve. Twenty-one to-morrow, 
 but passing for nineteen. And is n't it annoying, I went 
 and blurted out in Winchester two days ago that I had 
 a birthday hanging over me. I 'm awfully afraid Sir 
 Lionel thinks himself bound to give me a present. If he 
 does, and I can't get out of taking it, I shall have to pass 
 it on to Ellaline, of course, when I 'm passing everything 
 else on including myself. 
 
 I know you 're thinking of me to-night, as you walk 
 after dinner under the glorious chestnut trees you describe 
 in the park at Champel-les-Bains. I wish you had an 
 astral body! It would n't take up any room, or have to 
 pay railway fares, or wait for invitations to visit, and it 
 could easily be one of the party in Sir Lionel's car. So 
 nice to have it sitting between me and Dick Burden! 
 
 I wanted you dreadfully at Winchester, as I wrote you 
 in the note I scribbled after seeing the cathedral. I wish 
 I 'd told you more about Winchester then, for now it 's 
 too late. All Stonehenge is lying on top of my Winchester 
 impressions, and it will take them a little time to squeeze 
 139
 
 140 SET IN SILVER 
 
 from underneath. They will come out, though, I know, 
 none the worse for wear. And how I shall talk this 
 trip over with you, when we 're together again, and I 
 know the end that 's hiding behind the motor- veil of 
 the future! 
 
 Mother, dear, when I shut my eyes to-night, I see 
 Barrows, billowing prehistorically along the horizon, and 
 I see Stonehenge, black against a red sunset, and silver 
 in the moonlight. Also, I have begun to think architec- 
 turally, I find, through seeing so much architecture, and 
 trying to talk about it intelligently, as Mrs. Senter con- 
 trives to do. (I believe she fags it up at night, with a wet 
 towel over her hair wavers !) 
 
 Do you know what it is to think architecturally ? Well, 
 for me (not apropos of Mrs. S. at all), a made-up woman 
 is "well restored," or "repaired." An intellectual- 
 looking man, with a fine head, has Norman bumps and 
 Gothic ears. A puppy with big feet is an early Perp., with 
 Norman foundations, and so on. It gives a new interest 
 to life and the creatures we meet. Emily is late Georgian, 
 with Victorian elevations. 
 
 I hated leaving Winchester; but oh, those Barrows we 
 saw, when we were coming away! They made most 
 antique things seem as new as a china cup with "For a 
 Good Girl" outlined on it in gold letters. So many 
 stupendous events have scattered themselves along this 
 road of ours, as the centuries rolled, that it makes the 
 brain reel, trying to gather them up, and sort them into 
 some kind of sequence. Often I wish I could sit and 
 admire calmly, as Mrs. Senter can, and not get boiling with 
 excitement over the past. But one is so uncomfortably
 
 SET IN SILVER 141 
 
 intelligent, one can't stop thinking, thinking every minute. 
 Every tiny thing I see has its little "thought sting," 
 ready like a mosquito; and a fancy that has lately stabbed 
 me is the striking resemblance between English scenery, 
 or its features, and English character. The best bits in 
 both are shy of showing themselves, and never flaunt. 
 They are so reserved that to find them out you must 
 search. All the loveliest nooks in English country and 
 in English souls are hidden from strangers. Why, the 
 very cottages try to hide under veils of clematis and roses, 
 as the cottage children hide their thoughts behind long 
 eyelashes. 
 
 We came to Salisbury by way of Romsey, and got out 
 to see the splendid old church which almost ranks with 
 Winchester Cathedral as a monument of England. And 
 Romsey Abbey, too, very beautiful, even thrilling; still 
 more ancient Hursley, with its earthworks, about which, 
 for once, Sir Lionel and Dick Burden were congenial. 
 Of course, men who have been soldiers like Sir Lionel, or 
 tried to be soldiers and could n't, like Dick, must know 
 something about the formation of such things; but anyone 
 may be interested except a Mrs. Norton. 
 
 You and I had no motoring when we were travellers, 
 so we did n't see Europe as I am seeing England; still, I 
 don't believe any other country has this individuality 
 of vast, billowing downs. As you bowl smoothly from 
 one to another, over perfect roads, you have a series of 
 surprises, new beauties opening suddenly to your eyes. 
 It is exciting, yet soothing; and that mingling of emotions 
 is part of the joy of the car. For motorists, the downs 
 of Hampshire and Wiltshire are like a goddess's beautiful
 
 142 SET IN SILVER 
 
 breasts; and Nature is a goddess, is n't she ? the greatest 
 of all, combining all their best qualities. 
 
 This White Hart is a nice hotel, but I rather resent 
 the foreign waiters, as out of the picture, in such an 
 essentially old-fashioned, English place. I like the animal 
 names of the hotels in England. Already we have seen a 
 lot; and they form into a quaint, colourful, Noah's Ark 
 and heraldic procession across the country. The Black 
 Bull; The Golden Unicorn; The Blue Boar; The Red 
 Lion; The Piebald Horse; The Green Dragon; The 
 White Hart. I am still longing for a Purple Bear. 
 
 The first thing we did after getting settled (which I 
 always like, as I have n't enough luggage to make much 
 bother) was to walk out and see the town. I kept Dick 
 with me, not because I wanted him, you may be sure, 
 but because I can see he is a blot on the 'scutcheon for 
 Sir Lionel, and I feel so guilty, having forced him into the 
 party, that I try to attract the Blot to myself. If I mention 
 the Blot in future, you '11 know what it is. When I 'm 
 very desperate, I may just fling a drop of ink on the paper 
 to relieve my feelings, and that will mean the same thing. 
 The Blot puts on an air of the most exaggerated respect 
 for Sir Lionel. You 'd fancy he was talking to a cente- 
 narian. Horrid, pert little pig! (I think pigs run in their 
 family.) I know he does it on purpose to be nasty, and 
 make Sir Lionel feel an old stager. Do you remember 
 the pig-baby in "Alice's Adventures"? 
 He only does it to annoy, 
 Because he knows it teases. 
 
 Not that it need, for Sir Lionel looks about thirty-four. 
 Nobody would give him forty unless they saw it in books;
 
 SET IN SILVER 143 
 
 and he is like a knight of romance. There! Now you 
 have the opinion I have come to hold of Ellaline's dragon. 
 For me, the Dragon has turned into a Knight. But, of 
 course, I may be mistaken. Mrs. Senter says that no girl 
 can ever possibly understand a man, and that a man is 
 really much more complicated than a woman, though the 
 novelists tell you it 's the other way round. 
 
 We started out, all of us, except Emily, who lies down 
 after tea, to walk to John Halle's Hall, a most interesting 
 banqueting room, which is now a china-shop, but was 
 built by a rich wool-stapler (such a nice word!) in 1470, 
 as you can see on the oak carvings. But there was so 
 much to do on the way, that we saw the Hall, and the old 
 George Inn where Pepys lay " in a silk bed and had 
 very good diet" last of all. 
 
 The antique furniture shops were simply enthralling, 
 and I wanted nearly everything I saw. Travelling is good 
 for the mind, but it develops one or two of the worst 
 passions, such as Greed of Possession. We went into 
 several shops, and I could have purred with joy when Sir 
 Lionel asked me to help him choose several things for 
 Graylees, which he would have sent on there, direct. 
 He seemed to care more for my advice than for Mrs. 
 Senter's, and I don't think she quite liked that, for she 
 really knows a good deal about old English furniture, 
 whereas I know nothing only a little about French and 
 Italian things. 
 
 The streets of Salisbury, with their mediaeval houses, 
 look exactly as if they had been originally planned to 
 give the most delightful effects possible when their pictures 
 were taken. Every corner is a gem; and Sir Lionel told
 
 144 SET IN SILVER 
 
 us that the old rectangular part of the town was planned 
 more or less at one time. Of course, the people who did the 
 planning had plenty of time to think it all over, before 
 moving down from Old Sarum, which was so high and 
 bleak they could n't hear the priest saying mass in the 
 cathedral, because of the wind. Fancy! Salisbury used 
 to be called the "Venice of England"; but I must say, 
 if one can judge now, the simile was far-fetched. 
 
 Lots of martyrs were burnt in Salisbury, it seems, 
 when that sort of thing was in fashion, so no wonder they 
 have to keep Bloody Queen Mary's chair in Winchester 
 instead of Salisbury, where they 've a right to feel a 
 grudge against the wretched little, bilious bigot of a 
 lovesick woman. Sir Lionel has several well-known martyrs 
 on his family tree, Mrs. Norton says; and she is as proud 
 of them as most people are of royal bar-sinisters. I never 
 thought martyrs particularly interesting myself, though 
 perhaps that 's an uneasy jealousy, as we 've none in 
 our family that I know of only a witch or so on father's 
 side. Poor dears, what a pity they could n't have waited 
 till now to be born, when, instead of burning or drowning 
 them, people would have paid them to tell nice things about 
 the past and predict lovers for the future! 
 
 Witches were fascinating; but many martyrs probably 
 marted out of sheer obstinacy, don't you think? Of 
 course, it was different when they executed you without 
 .giving you a chance to recant, as they did with political 
 prisoners; and do you know, they cut off poor witty 
 Buckingham's head in Salisbury market-place? "So 
 much for Buckingham!" Where it came off, there 's an 
 inn, now, called the Saracen's Head. I wonder if it was
 
 SET IN SILVER 145- 
 
 chopped off in the neighbourhood, too, or if it 's only a 
 pleasant fancy, to cover up the Buckingham stain in the 
 yard? Anyhow, they tell you there that in 1838 
 Buckingham's skeleton was dug up under the kitchen of 
 what used to be the Blue Boar Inn. But even that is n't 
 as ghastly a tale as another one of Salisbury : how one of 
 Jack Cade's " quarters " was sent to the town when he 'd 
 been executed. I should have liked to know if it 's still 
 to be seen, but I thought it would be hardly nice to ask. 
 
 We saved the cathedral for the last, and just as we 
 were in the midst of sight-seeing there, it was time for 
 service, so we sat down and listened to music which seemed 
 to fall from heaven. There 's nothing more glorious than 
 music in a cathedral, is there ? Usually it makes me feel 
 good; but this time it made me feel so sinful, on account 
 of Ellaline, and Sir Lionel and Dick, that I almost cried. 
 Do you think, dear, that if I were in a novel they would 
 have me for a heroine or a wicked adventuress? I hae 
 me doots; but my one hope is, that you can't be an adven- 
 turess if you really mean well at heart, and are under 
 twenty-two. 
 
 Maybe I 'd expected too much of Salisbury Cathedral, 
 because I 'd always heard more about it than others in 
 England, but it was n't quite so glorious to me as Win- 
 chester. It 's far more harmonious, because it was 
 planned all at one time, like the town, and there 's singu- 
 larly little foreign influence to be traced in the architecture, 
 which makes it different from most others, and extra- 
 ordinarily interesting in its way. It 's very, very old, too, 
 but it is so white and clean that it looks new. And one 
 great beauty it has: its whiteness seems always flooded
 
 146 SET IN SILVER 
 
 with moonlight, even when sunshine is streaming over the 
 noble pillars and lovely tombs. 
 
 This morning I went back, with Emily, to service, and 
 wandered from chapel to chapel, till nearly luncheon time. 
 Then Sir Lionel came, and took me up strange, hidden, 
 winding stairs, to the den of the librarian. It was like 
 stealing into an enchanted castle, where all save the 
 librarian slept, and had slept for centuries. When it was 
 time to go away, I was afraid that Sir Lionel might have 
 forgotten the magic spell which would open the door and let 
 us escape. There were interesting things there, but we 
 were n't allowed to look at the ones we wanted to see most, 
 till we were too tired to enjoy them, after seeing the ones 
 we did n't want to see at all. But you know, in another 
 enchanted castle, that of the Sleeping Beauty, there was 
 only one lovely princess, and goodness knows how many 
 snorey bores. 
 
 At three, we started to motor out to Stonehenge; and 
 Sir Lionel chose to be late, because he wanted to be there 
 at sunset, which he knew from memory to be the 
 most thrilling picture for us to carry away in our heads. 
 
 Nobody ever told me what an imposing sight Old Sarum 
 remains, to this day, so I was surprised and impressed by 
 the giant conical knoll standing up out of the plain and its 
 own intrenchments. I 'd just been reading about it in 
 the guide-book, how important it used to be to England, 
 when it was still a city, and how it was a fortress of the Celts 
 when the Romans came and snatched it from them; 
 but I had no idea of its appearance. I would have liked 
 to go with Sir Lionel to walk round the intrenchments, but 
 he asked only Dick. However, Mrs. Senter volunteered
 
 SET IN SILVER 147 
 
 to go, at the last moment, just as they were starting, and 
 Emily and I were left, flotsam and jetsam, in the car, to 
 wait till they came back. 
 
 I was n't bored, however, because Emily read a religious 
 novel by Marie Corelli, and did n't worry to talk. So I 
 could sit in peace, seeing with my mind's eye the pageant 
 of William the Conqueror reviewing his troops in the plain 
 over which Old Sarum gloomily towers. Such a lurid 
 plain it is, this month of poppies, red as if its arid slopes 
 were stained with the blood of ghostly armies slain in 
 battle. 
 
 But it was going back further into history to come to 
 Amesbury. You know, dear, Queen Guinevere's Ames- 
 bury, where she repented in the nunnery she 'd founded, 
 and the little novice sang to her "Too late! Too late!" 
 When she was buried, King Arthur had " a hundred torches 
 ever burning about the corpse of the queen." Can't you 
 see the beautiful picture? And when her nunnery was 
 gone in 980, another queen, far, far more wicked than 
 Guinevere, built on the same spot a convent to expiate the 
 murder of her stepson at Corfe Castle. We are going to 
 Corfe, by and by, so I shall send my thoughts back to 
 Amesbury from there, in spite of the fact that Elfreda's 
 nuns became so naughty they had to be banished. Nor 
 shall I forget a lover who loved at Amesbury Sir 
 George Rodney, who adored the fascinating Countess of 
 Hertford so desperately, that after her marriage he 
 composed some verses in her honour, and fell then upon 
 his sword. Why don't men do such things for us now- 
 adays ? Were the " dear, dead women " so much more 
 desirable than we?
 
 148 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Was n't Amesbury a beautiful " leading up " to Stone- 
 henge ? It 's quite near, you know. It does n't seem as 
 if anything ought to be near, but a good many things are 
 such as farms. Yet they don't spoil it. You never even 
 think of them, or of anything except Stonehenge itself, 
 once you have seen the first great, dark finger of stone, 
 pointing mysteriously skyward out of the vast plain. 
 
 That is the way Stonehenge breaks on you, suddenly, 
 startlingly, like a cry in the night. 
 
 I was very glad we had the luck to arrive alone, for not 
 long after we 'd entered the charmed, magic circle of the 
 giant plinths, a procession of other motor-cars poured up 
 to the gates. Droves of chauffeurs, and bevies of pretty 
 ladies in motor hats swarmed like living anachronisms 
 among the monuments of the past. Of course, we did n't 
 seem to ourselves to be anachronisms, because what is 
 horrid in other people is always quite different and excus- 
 able, or even piquant, in oneself; and I hastily argued that 
 our motor, Apollo, the Sun God, was really appropriate in 
 this place of fire worship. Even the Druids could n't 
 have objected to him, although they would probably have 
 sacrificed all of us in a bunch, unless we could have hastily 
 proved that we were a new kind of god and goddess, 
 driving chariots of fire. (Anyhow, motor-cars are making 
 history just as much as the Druids did, so they ought to be 
 welcome anywhere, in any scene, and they seem to have 
 more right to be at Stonehenge than patronizing little 
 Pepys.) 
 
 You remember Rolde, in Holland, don't you, with its 
 miniature Stonehenge ? Well, it might have been made for 
 Druids' children to play dolls with, compared to this.
 
 SET IN SILVER 149 
 
 If the Phoenicians raised Stonehenge in worship of 
 their fiery god, they had good reason to flatter them- 
 selves that it would attract his attention. And I do 
 think it was sensible to choose the sun for a god. Next 
 to our own true religion, that seems the most comforting. 
 There was your deity, in full sight, looking after one 
 side or the other of his world, all through the twenty- 
 four hours. 
 
 I never felt more awe-stricken than I did passing under 
 the shadow of those great sentinel plinths, guarding their 
 sunken altar, hiding their own impenetrable mysteries. 
 The winds seemed to blow more chill, and to whisper 
 strangely, as if trying to tell secrets we could never under- 
 stand. I love the legend of the Friar's Heel, but, after all, 
 it 's only a mediaeval legend, and it 's more interesting to 
 think that, from the middle of the sacrificial altar, the priest 
 could see the sun rise (at the summer solstice) just above 
 that stupendous stone. I stood there, imagining a white- 
 robed Druid looking up, his knife suspended over a fair 
 girl victim, waiting to strike until his eye should meet the 
 red eye of the sun. Oh, I shall have bad dreams about 
 Stonehenge, I know! But I shan't mind, if I can dream 
 about the Duke of Buckingham digging for treasure there 
 at midnight. And if I were like Du Maurier's dear Peter 
 Ibbetson, I could " dream back," and see at what far dis- 
 tance the builders of Stonehenge got their mysterious 
 syenite, and that one black sandstone so different from the 
 rest. I could dream who were the builders; whether 
 Phoenicians, or mourning Britons of Arthur's day as 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth tells. 
 
 Sir Lionel and I like to think it was the Britons, for that
 
 150 SET IN SILVER 
 
 gives him a family feeling for the place, since he read out 
 of a book Warton's sonnet: 
 
 "Thou noblest monument of Albion's Isle, 
 Whether by Merlin's aid from Scythia's shore 
 To Amber's fatal plain Pendragon bore, 
 Huge frame of giants' hands, the mighty pile 
 To entomb his Britons slain by Hengist's guile, 
 Or Druid priests, sprinkled with human gore, 
 Taught 'mid the massy maze their mystic lore." 
 
 Next time, I want to see Stonehenge from an airship, or, 
 at a pinch, a balloon, because I can judge better of the 
 original form, the two circles and the two ellipses, which 
 the handsomest policeman I ever saw out of a Christmas 
 Annual explained to me, pacing the rough grass. He 
 lives at Stonehenge all day, with a dog, and they are both 
 guardians. I asked him if he had not beautiful thoughts, 
 but he said, not in winter, Miss, it was too cold to think 
 then, except about hot soup. Stonehenge is very becom- 
 ing to this young man, especially at sunset. And, dearest, 
 you can hardly imagine the glory of those piled stones as 
 you look back at them, going slowly, slowly away, and 
 seeing them purple-black against a crimson streak of 
 sunset like a smoking torch. 
 
 We got lost, trying to find the river road, going home, 
 and had great fun, straying into meadows, and onto 
 ploughed ground, which poor Apollo resented. The way 
 was beautiful, past some lovely old houses and exquisite 
 cottages; and the Avon was idyllic in its pretty windings. 
 But the villages of Wiltshire I don't find as poetical as those 
 in Surrey and Sussex or Hampshire. 
 
 You would never guess what I 'm going to do to-morrow 
 morning ? I 'm not sure you 'd let me, if you knew. But
 
 SET IN SILVER 151 
 
 a ward does n't need a chaperon with a guardian. He 
 plays both parts. I 'm to get up early before the 
 sun is awake and Sir Lionel is to motor me out to Stone- 
 henge, so that I can see it by sunrise as well as sunset. 
 It is a beautiful idea, and the handsome policeman has 
 promised to be there and let us in. 
 
 Seeing a sunrise is like a glorified Private View, I think. 
 I expect to feel as Louis of Bavaria must have felt when 
 he had a Wagner opera all to himself. 
 
 Now I am going down to post this, so that it can leave 
 for London by the last train, and start for Switzerland in 
 the morning of my birthday. I shall count the sunrise 
 a birthday present from heaven if it 's fine; and if it is n't 
 I shall know, what I suspect already, that I don't deserve 
 one. 
 
 Your loving Changeling, 
 
 AUDRIE.
 
 XII 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Compton Arms, Stony Cross, New Forest 
 July 25th 
 
 LITTLE STAB-MOTHER: It 's very late to-night, or 
 early to-morrow, but I did want to write you on my birth- 
 day; and besides, I am in a hurry to tell you about the 
 fairylike experience I have had. I am in fairyland 
 even here and now; but I have been to the heart of it. I 
 shall never forget. 
 
 Oh, but first the sunrise, my birthday sunrise. It was 
 wonderful, and made me think how much time I have 
 wasted, hardly ever accepting its invitations. I believe 
 I will turn over a new leaf. I shall get up very, very early 
 every day, and go to bed very, very late, so as to squeeze 
 all the juice out of the orange, and wring every minute out 
 of my youth. I feel so alive, I don't want to lose the 
 "morning glory." When I 'm old I shall do differently. 
 I '11 go to bed directly after dinner and sleep late, so that 
 age may be short, following a long youth. Is n't that a 
 good plan to make on my twenty-first birthday ? 
 
 Sir Lionel had n't forgotten, and wished me many happy 
 returns of the day; but he did n't give me a present, so I 
 hoped he had changed his mind. We got back to Salis- 
 bury about the time Mrs. Norton and Mrs. Senter were 
 152
 
 SET IN SILVER 153 
 
 having their breakfasts in bed (they had n't heard of our 
 expedition, and the word had gone out that we were n't 
 to start for the New Forest till after luncheon, as it would 
 be a short run), and we had nearly finished our tea, toast, 
 and eggs, when Dick strolled into the coffee-room. He 
 seemed decidedly intrigue at sight of us together at a little 
 table, talking cozily; and that detective look came into 
 his eyes which cats have when a mouse occurs to them. 
 He laughed merrily, though, and chaffed us on making 
 "secret plans." Dick hasn't a very nice laugh. It's 
 too explosive and loud. (Don't you think other animals 
 must consider the laughter of humans an odd noise, 
 without rhyme or reason ?) 
 
 Also Dick has a nasty way of saying "thank you" to a 
 waiter; with the rising inflection, you know, which is 
 nicely calculated to make the servant feel himself the last 
 of God's creatures. 
 
 By two o'clock we had said good-bye to Salisbury 
 ("good-bye" for me, "au revoir" for the others, perhaps), 
 and were kinematographing in and out of charming 
 scenery, lovelier perhaps than any we 'd seen yet. Under 
 green gloom of forests, where it seemed a prisoned dryad 
 might be napping in each tree, and where only a faun could 
 have been a suitable chauffeur; past heatherland, just lit 
 to rosy fire by the sun's blaze; through billowy country 
 where grain was gold and silver, meadows were "flawed 
 emeralds set in copper," and here and there a huge dark 
 blot meant a prehistoric barrow. 
 
 The car played us a trick for the first time, and Young 
 Nick, looking more like Buddha than ever, got down to 
 have a heart-to-heart talk with the motor. I think Apollo
 
 154 SET IN SILVER 
 
 had swallowed a crumb, or something, for he coughed and 
 wheezed, and would n't move except with gasps, until he 
 had been patted under the bonnet, and tickled with all 
 sorts of funny instruments, such as a giant's dentist 
 might use. It was fun, though, for us irresponsible ones, 
 while Sir Lionel and Nick tried different things to get the 
 crumb out of Apollo's throat. Other motorists flew by 
 scornfully, like the Priest and the Levite, or slowed up to 
 ask if they could help, and looked with some interest at 
 Mrs. Senter and me, sitting there like mantelpiece orna- 
 ments. I did n't even want to slaughter them for the dust 
 they made, now that I 'm a real motorist myself, for "dog 
 cannot eat dog"; and even cyclists seemed like our poor 
 relations. 
 
 One elderly woman bumped by, sitting in a kind of 
 dreadful bath chair fastened in front of a motor bicycle, 
 spattering noise and petrol. You could n't see her features 
 under her expression, which was agonized. The young 
 man who propelled her was smirking conceitedly, as if to 
 say, "What a kind chap I am, giving my maiden aunt a 
 good time!" 
 
 Presently a small car came limping along that had "We 
 Know It" printed in large, rough letters on a card, tied to 
 a broken wheel. Was n't that a good idea, when they 'd 
 got nervous prostration having everybody tell them ? 
 
 Cows paused, gazed at us, and sneered; but at last 
 Apollo's crumb was extracted; Young Nick brushed the 
 dust off his sleeves by rubbing his arms together, the way 
 flies clean their antennae, and we were ready to go on. 
 "It 's a wise car that knows its own chauffeur," said Mrs. 
 Senter.
 
 SETINSILVER 155 
 
 Just because this happened, and because a tyre presently 
 burst in sheer sympathy, we travelled in the beginning of 
 sunset, which was divine. The scene swam in rose- 
 coloured light, so pink it seemed as if you could bottle 
 it, and it would still be pink. The tree trunks were cased 
 in ruddy gold, like the gold leaf wrapped round royal 
 mummies. Making up for lost time, the white road 
 smoked beneath our tyres, and we were soon in the New 
 Forest the old, old New Forest, perfumed like the fore- 
 court of heaven. 
 
 We came to this pretty little hotel, in the midst of 
 heathery spaces like a cutting in the aromatic forest. I 
 like my room, but I did n't want to stop in it and begin 
 dressing for dinner. Looking out of my window, I saw 
 a little white moon, curved like a baby's arm, cushioned 
 among banks of sky azaleas, so I felt I must go out and 
 drink the sunset. I had left too much of that rose-red 
 wine in the bottom of the silver goblet. I must have the 
 last drop! 
 
 So I ran downstairs; and I warn you, now comes the 
 experience which I liked so much, but of which you won't 
 approve. 
 
 The landlord stood in the hall, and I asked him if there 
 were anything wonderful I could go and see in a few 
 minutes. He smiled, and said it would n't take me very 
 long to find Rufus's Stone, but he would not advise 
 me to do it. I replied that I would n't ask him to advise, 
 if he 'd point out the road, and probably I should only 
 venture a little way. He was a nice man, so he went out 
 in front of the hotel to point, and lent me a puppy as a 
 companion.
 
 156 SET IN SILVER 
 
 The puppy was no respecter of persons. All he cared 
 for was a walk, so he kindly consented to take me with him, 
 gambolling ahead as if he knew where I wanted to go. 
 That tempted me on, and the way was n't hard to find, 
 for the puppy or for me. We played into each other's 
 paws, and when I was lost he found me, or vice versa. 
 The first thing I knew, there was the Stone. Nobody 
 could mistake it, even from a distance; and going down 
 to it from the top of a hill, it was still light enough to read 
 the inscription. 
 
 This was my first entrance into the heart of fairyland. 
 
 William Rufus could n't have chosen a more ideal spot 
 to die in, if he 'd picked it out himself from a list of a hun- 
 dred others; and the evening silence under the great, gray 
 beeches seemed as if it had lasted a thousand years, always 
 the same, old and wise as Mother Earth. Then, 
 suddenly, it was broken by the rustle and stir of a cock 
 pheasant, which appeared from somewhere as if by magic, 
 and stood for an instant all kingly, his breast blazing with 
 jewelled orders in the sunset. Me he regarded with the 
 haughty defiance of a Norman prince, and screamed with 
 rage at the puppy, all his theories upset, because he had 
 been so positive the world was entirely his. So it was, if 
 he 'd only stopped to let me assure him that he owned all 
 the best things in it; but he whirred and soared; and thus 
 I realized instantly that he was a fairy in disguise. How 
 stupid of me not to have guessed while he was there ! 
 
 You know, the New Forest is haunted with fairies, good 
 and bad. There are the "malfays" that came because of 
 William the Conqueror's cruelty in driving away the peas- 
 ants to make the great deer-forest for his hunting; and
 
 SET IN SILVER 157 
 
 there are the good fays that help the cottage housewives, 
 and the "tricksies" that frighten the wild ponies and pinch 
 the cattle. I would n't have been surprised to learn that 
 that pheasant was Puck himself, for no doubt Puck has 
 a hunting-lodge somewhere in the New Forest. 
 
 I meant to sit by the Stone only five minutes, but the 
 fairies put a spell upon my five minutes, and the first thing 
 I knew, the sun was gone. So was the puppy, which was 
 even more serious, for I was handicapped by not knowing 
 his name, and no self-respecting canine thing would 
 respond to shouts of "dog," or "here, pup, pup, pup!" 
 
 However, I tried both, running about to look for him, 
 here and there, among the enchanted bracken that rustled 
 with elf-life, while the shadows came alive, and the rosy 
 light died. 
 
 "Puppy, puppy!" I implored, helplessly drifting; and 
 then, to my surprise can you "find" that you 've lost a 
 thing ? Well, I don't know how else to express it. I found 
 that I 'd lost the path. If I 'd only been able to remember 
 whether the hotel were north or south, or east or west of 
 Rufus's Stone, maybe it would have been all right; but does 
 any normal girl ever give thought to points of the com- 
 pass ? I yelled a little more, hoping the puppy would be 
 gentleman enough to come back to a lady in distress, and 
 luckily Sir Lionel heard my howls. He 'd come out to 
 look for me, on learning from the landlord that I 'd gone 
 to Rufus's Stone, with the puppy, and he had met it 
 not the stone, but the puppy looking sneaky and 
 ashamed. Just then, my voice gave him an idea of my 
 whereabouts, otherwise we should probably have missed; 
 and if we had, I don't know what I should have done, so
 
 158 SET IN SILVER 
 
 you must n't scold at what happened next. Remember 
 the New Forest is not a French pension full of old maids, 
 but f any land fairyland. 
 
 He was in evening dress, without a hat, and I was 
 pleased to see him, because I was beginning to be the 
 tiniest bit afraid; and he did look so nice; and I was so 
 glad he wasn't Dick Burden. But don't worry! I 
 did n't tell him that. 
 
 It seems he came downstairs rather early for dinner, 
 and the landlord mentioned that I 'd gone out, so he 
 strolled along, thinking to meet me after walking a few 
 yards. When he did n't, he thought he 'd better keep on, 
 because it was too late for me to be out of doors alone. 
 
 I was apologetic, and afraid it must be long past dinner- 
 time; but he said I need n't mind that, as he had left 
 word for the others not to wait after eight-fifteen. 
 
 Then in a few minutes I began to realize that we might 
 have an adventure, because when I called, and Sir Lionel 
 hurried on in quest of me, he 'd forgotten to notice the 
 landmarks. It did seem ridiculous to have trouble in find- 
 ing the way, so short a distance from the hotel; but you 
 can't conceive how misleading it is in the New Forest. It 's 
 like a part of the enchantment; and if we had been in the 
 maze of the Minotaur, without Ariadne's clue, we could n't 
 have been more bewildered than we soon found ourselves, 
 tangled in the veil of twilight. 
 
 "I wonder if birds will cover us with leaves?" I said, 
 laughing, when we had made up our minds that we were 
 lost. But it seemed more likely that, if any creature paid 
 us this thoughtful attention, it would be bats. As night 
 fell in the Forest, they unhooked themselves from their
 
 SET IN SILVER 159 
 
 mysterious trapezes, and whirred past our faces with a 
 soft flap, flap of velvet wings. I don't know what I should 
 yiave done if one had made a halfway-house of my hair ! 
 
 "Are you hungry?" Sir Lionel wanted to know. 
 
 I said that I was, but would n't harrow him up by 
 explaining that I was ravenous. 
 
 He did n't appear even to want to scold, though it would 
 have been easy to hint politely that it would be my own 
 fault if we did n't get any dinner that night or, per- 
 haps, breakfast next morning. Instead of being cross 
 with me, he blamed himself for being stupid enough to 
 lose me. I exonerated him, and we were extremely nice 
 to each other; but as we walked on and on, round and 
 Tound, seeing no lights anywhere, or hearing anything 
 except that wonderful sound of a great silence, I began to 
 grow tired. I did n't mean, though, that he should see it. 
 I had enough to be ashamed of, without that, but he knew 
 by instinct, and took my hand to draw it through his arm, 
 telling me to lean as heavily as I liked. I held back 
 at first, saying it was n't necessary; and insisting, as I 
 pulled away, his hand closed down on mine tightly. It was 
 only for a second or two, because I gave up at once, and let 
 him lay my hand on his arm as he wished. But, do you 
 know, mother, I think I ought to tell you it felt quite 
 differently from any other hand that ever touched 
 mine. 
 
 Of course I have n't even shaken hands with many men 
 since I 've been grown up, though if you 'd let me be a 
 singer I should n't have thought any more about it than 
 if I were President of the United States. One reads in 
 novels of "the electricity in a touch," and all that; but
 
 160 SET IN SILVER 
 
 there it generally means that you 're falling in love. And 
 I can't possibly be falling in love with Ellaline's Dragon, 
 can I ? I don't suppose that can be. It would be too 
 stupid, and forward, and altogether unspeakable. But 
 really, I do feel differently about him from any way I ever 
 felt before toward anybody. I have always said that I 'd 
 rather be alone with myself than with anyone else except 
 you, for any length of time, because I 'm such good chums 
 with myself, and enjoy thinking my own thoughts. But 
 I do like being with Sir Lionel. I feel excited and eager 
 at the thought of being with him. And his fingers on 
 mine and my hand on his arm and the touch of his 
 sleeve and a faint little, almost imperceptible scent 
 of Egyptian cigarettes mixing with the woodsy smell of 
 the night oh, I don't know how to describe it to myself. 
 So now you know as much as I do. But would n't it be 
 dreadful if I should go and fall in love with Sir Lionel 
 Pendragon of all other men in the world ? In a few more 
 weeks I shall be slipping out of his life forever; and not 
 only that, but I shall be leaving a very evil memory behind. 
 He will despise me. I shall have proved myself exactly 
 the sort of person he abominates. 
 
 I did n't think all that, however, as he put my hand on 
 his arm. I just felt the thrill of it ; but instead of worrying, 
 I was happy, and did n't care how tired and hungry I was, 
 or whether we ever got anywhere or not. As for him, he 
 was too polite to let me know he was bored, and all the 
 time we were looking for the hotel the night was so beauti- 
 ful, so wonderful, that we could n't help talking of exqui- 
 site things, telling each other thoughts neither of us 
 would have spoken aloud in daylight. It was quite
 
 SETINSILVER 161 
 
 dark now, except for a kind of rosy quivering of light along 
 the horizon, and the stars that had come out like a bright 
 army of fairies, with millions of scintillating spears. 
 
 I knew then, dearest, that he was no dragon, no matter 
 what circumstantial evidence may have been handed down 
 to Ellaline as a legacy from her dead mother. That is 
 something to have divined by the magic of the forest, 
 is n't it, after I 've been puzzling so long ? There is now 
 not the least doubt in my mind. So if I should be silly 
 and sentimental enough to fancy myself in love, it can't 
 do any harm, except to make me a little sorry and sad 
 after I 've come home to you. It won't be anything to be 
 ashamed of, to have cared about a man like Sir Lionel; 
 because I assure you I shan't behave foolishly, no matter 
 how I may eventually feel. You can trust your Audrie 
 for that. 
 
 It was too dark to tell the time by a watch, but we 
 remarked to each other that they must have finished dinner 
 long ago; and Sir Lionel hoped this would n't spoil the 
 memory of my birthday for me. 
 
 "Oh, no," said I, before I thought, "it will make it 
 better. I shall never, never forget this." 
 
 "Nor I," said he, in a pleasant, quiet tone. 
 
 Then he went on to tell me that he had a little birthday 
 remembrance which all day he 'd been wanting to give me. 
 It was a ruby ring, because the ruby was July's stone, but 
 I need n't wear it unless I liked. He hoped I would n't 
 mind his having disobeyed me when I said I wanted 
 nothing, because he wished very much to give it to me. 
 And having lived alone, and ordered his own and other 
 people's affairs for so long, had accustomed him to having
 
 162 SET IN SILVER 
 
 his own way. Would I be kind to him, and accept his 
 present ? 
 
 I could n't say no, under those stars and in that enchant- 
 ment. So I answered that I would take the ring 
 knowing all the while I must soon hand it over to Ellaline. 
 
 " Shall I give it to you now ? " he asked, " or will you 
 wait till to-morrow?" 
 
 I did want to see it, though it was to be only borrowed ! 
 " Now," said I. Then he took a ring from some pocket, 
 and tried to slip it over a finger of the hand on his arm. 
 
 " Oh, but that 's the engaged finger," I burst out. 
 
 Silly of me! I might have let him put it on, and 
 changed it afterward. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said he, almost as if he were 
 startled. "That will be a younger man's privilege some 
 day, and then you will be taken away from me." 
 
 "You will be glad to get rid of me, I should think," 
 I hurried to say, stretching out my other hand, and letting 
 him slip the ring on the third finger. 
 
 "Should you think so?" he echoed. "I suppose you 
 have the right to feel that, after the past. But don't feel 
 it. Don't, child." 
 
 That was all, and I did n't answer. I could n't; for 
 what he had said was for Ellaline, not for me. Yet it 
 made my heart beat, his voice was so sincere, and fuller of 
 emotion than I 'd ever heard it yet. 
 
 Just then, into our darkness a light seemed to flash. We 
 both saw it together. I thought it might be the hotel, 
 but Sir Lionel said he feared it was more probably the 
 window of some remote cottage or charcoal-burner's hut. 
 
 We walked toward it, and that was what it was: a
 
 SET IN SILVER 163 
 
 charcoal-burner's hut. Sir Lionel must have been dis- 
 appointed, because he wanted to get me home, but / 
 was n't. I was in such a mood that I was not ready for the 
 adventure to come to an end. 
 
 The next bit of the adventure was exactly suited to the 
 New Forest, and W2 could n't have experienced it any- 
 where else. 
 
 The hut was a tiny, wattled shed, and the light we 'd 
 seen came through the low, open doorway. It was the 
 light of a fire and a candle; and there was a delicious 
 aromatic smell of wood smoke in the air. Sir Lionel 
 explained, as we walked up to the place, that some of these 
 huts were hundreds of years old, remnants of the time when 
 debtors and robbers and criminals of all sorts used to hide 
 in the forest under the protection of the malfays. As he 
 spoke, we almost stumbled over some obstacle in the 
 dark, and he said that very likely it was the hearth of a 
 vanished cottage. People had the right to leave the hearth 
 if their house were torn down, to establish " cottage rights" ; 
 and there were a good many such, still scattered through 
 the forest, even in the gardens of modern houses; for no 
 one dared take them away. 
 
 The charcoal-burner was "at home,'* and receiving. 
 He was engaged in cooking eggs and bacon for his supper, 
 and if you could only guess how good they smelled! 
 Nothing smells as nice as eggs and bacon when you are 
 hungry, and we were ravenous. 
 
 Most things as old as that charcoal-burner are in mu- 
 seums ; and his eyes were so close together it seemed as if 
 they might run into one when he winked. Also, he was 
 deaf, so we had to roar to him, before he could understand
 
 164 SET IN SILVER 
 
 what had happened. When he did understand, though, 
 he was a thorough trump, and said we could have his 
 supper if we "would be pleased to eat it." Bread and 
 cheese would do for him. And we might have tea, if we 
 could take it without milk. 
 
 But there were three eggs, and three strips of bacon, so 
 we insisted that we must share and share alike, or we 
 would have nothing. I made the tea, in a battered tin pot 
 which looked like an heirloom, and we all sat at an 
 uncovered kitchen table together, though our host pro- 
 tested. It was fun ; and the old thing told us weird tales of 
 the forest which made me conscious that I have a spine 
 and marrow, just as certain wild music does. His name is 
 Purkess; he thinks he is descended from Purkess, the 
 charcoal-burner who found the body of William Rufus; 
 and his ancestors, some of whom were smugglers and 
 poachers, have lived in the forest for a thousand years. 
 He was so old that he could remember as a child hearing 
 his old grandfather tell of the days of the wicked, illegal 
 timber-selling in the forest for the building of warships. 
 Just think, grand oaks, ash and thorn, trees stanch as 
 English hearts, sold for the price of firewood! 
 
 I sat at the table, watching the firelight play on my ring, 
 which I had n't seen till we got into the hut; and it is 
 beautiful. I shall enjoy having it, though only for a little 
 while, and shall regard it as a trust for Ellaline. 
 
 The charcoal-burner assured us we needn't worry; 
 he would put us on the way home, and give us land- 
 marks which, after he 'd guided us a certain distance, we 
 could n't miss even at night. 
 
 When we 'd finished our eggs and bacon, our tea and
 
 SET IN SILVER 165 
 
 chunks of dry bread, Sir Lionel laid a gold piece on the 
 table. Blind as he was, the old man was n't too blind to 
 see that, and he simply beamed. 
 
 "Bless you all the days of your life, sir, and your good, 
 pretty lady!" he cackled. 
 
 That 's the third time I 've been taken for Sir Lionel's 
 wife. The other times I did n't care, but this time, though 
 I laughed, it was a put on laugh, because of those 
 dim questionings about myself floating in the background 
 of my mind. 
 
 The descendant of poachers knew the forest, as he said, 
 "with his eyes shut." He limped before us for nearly 
 half a mile, along what he called a "walk" a New 
 Forest word and then abandoned us to our fate, after 
 describing the profile of each important tree which we must 
 pass, and pointing out a few stars, as guides. Then we 
 bade each other good-bye for ever. He went back to 
 gloat over his gold piece, and Sir Lionel and I went on 
 together. 
 
 Somehow, we fell to talking of our favourite virtues, 
 and without thinking, I said, "My mother's is gratitude." 
 
 " Gratitude," he repeated, as if in surprise, but he did n't 
 seem to notice that I 'd used the present tense. To make 
 him forget my slip, I hurried on to say I thought mine was 
 courage, in a man, anyhow. What was his, in a woman ? 
 
 "Truth," he answered, with an instant's hesitation. 
 
 Luckily he could n't see me blush in the dark. But 
 the real Audrie was always decently truthful, was n't 
 she ? It 's only this Ellaline- Audrie that is n't free to 
 be true. 
 
 "Only in women?" I asked, uncomfortably.
 
 166 SET IN SILVER 
 
 "Truth goes without saying in men the sort of men 
 one knows," said he. 
 
 "Don't you think women love the truth as much as 
 men?" I persisted. 
 
 "No, I don't," he answered abruptly. Then qualified 
 his "no," as if he ought to apologize for it. "But I 
 have n't had much experience," he finished, a heavy, dull 
 sound coming into his voice. 
 
 Well, dearest, that 's all I have to tell you on this, my 
 birthday night, Except that we found our way back to 
 the hotel safely, arriving about half-past ten, and only 
 Emily was anxious about us. The other two were inclined 
 to be frivolous; and Mrs. Senter noticed the new ring, 
 which I had forgotten to take off my finger. Nothing ever 
 escapes her eyes! I saw them light, and linger, but of 
 course she did n't refer to the ring, and naturally 
 I did n't. 
 
 I had n't quite decided whether or not I should wear it 
 "for every day," and had been inclined to think it would 
 be better not, even at the risk of disappointing the giver. 
 But I made up my mind, when Mrs. Senter looked so 
 peculiarly at it, that I would brazen the thing out, and so I 
 will. 
 
 "I envy you your adventure," she said, in what I felt 
 was a meaning voice, though Sir Lionel did n't appear to 
 read under the commonplace surface. 
 
 I don't care if she does choose to be horrid. I don't 
 see how she can hurt me. And as for Dick, he has done 
 his worst. He has made me get them both asked for the 
 tour. I should think that 's enough. 
 
 We are going to stop at the Compton Arms for two or
 
 SET IN SILVER 167 
 
 three days, running about in the car to see different 
 parts of the forest, and coming "home" at night. I love 
 that way! 
 
 The only thing I don't like in going from one hotel 
 to another, is having all sorts of queer little birthmarks 
 on my hankies and other things hi the wash. Good-bye, 
 Angel Duck. 
 
 Your Grown-up 
 
 DAUGHTER. 
 
 Only think, I am now of age! 
 
 By the way, Sir Lionel, who expected his ward to be a 
 little girl (thoughtless of him!), said to-night: "You 're 
 so old, I can't get used to you." 
 
 And I retorted, "You 're so young, I can't get used to 
 you." 
 
 I hope it did n't sound pert, to answer like that ?
 
 XIII 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Lulworth Cove, July 30th 
 
 Why are n't you with me, dearest, seeing what I am 
 seeing ? 
 
 It 's all very well for you to write that my letters 
 make a panorama pass before your eyes, and I 'm 
 flattered, but I want you. Although I am enjoying 
 life, I 'm more excited than happy, and I don't sleep 
 well. I dream horrid dreams about Mrs. Senter and 
 Dick Burden, and about Ellaline, too, but I always laugh 
 when I wake up. 
 
 Thank you so much for telling me that you think I 'm 
 behaving pretty well, considering. But I wonder what 
 you 'II say in your next, after my last ? 
 
 Every day since then I 've been meaning to write, if 
 only a short note, but we 've had early starts and late 
 stops; and then, from not sleeping at night, I 'm often so 
 tired when the end of the day comes that I feel too 
 stupid to try and earn your compliments. 
 
 It is morning, and I 'm writing out of doors, sitting 
 on a rock, close by the sea. But before I begin to describe 
 Lulworth, I must tell you a little about the glorious things 
 of which I 've had flying glimpses since the letter dated 
 Compton Arms. This is our first all-night stopping place 
 168
 
 SET IN SILVER 169 
 
 since we left Stony Cross "for good," but I 've picked up 
 many a marvellous memory by the way. 
 
 People who have n't seen the New Forest have n't seen 
 England. 
 
 I had no idea what it was like till we stayed there. I 
 knew from guide-books that there were thousands of acres 
 of woodland still, though much had been "deforested"; 
 but I did n't know it hid many beautiful villages, and even 
 towns. It 's a heavenly place for motoring, but I 5 m not 
 sure it would n't be even better to walk, because you could 
 eke out the joy of it longer. I should like a walking 
 honeymoon (a whole round moon) in the New Forest 
 if it were with just the right man. 
 
 Oh, I must n't forget to say I 'm glad I did n't see 
 Rufus's Stone by daylight. Mrs. Senter and Dick went 
 the morning after I wrote to you, but I would n't go again, 
 because I did n't want to lose the enchanted picture in 
 my mind. She laughed when I refused. I could have 
 slapped her. But never mind. 
 
 When they came back they were disgusted, and said 
 there was a ginger-beer woman and a man with the game 
 of "Aunt Sally," and a crowd of cockney excursionists 
 round them and the Stone. Talk of malfays! 
 
 Sir Lionel had made out an itinerary for the day, and 
 we were to start for Lyndhurst, Beaulieu Abbey, Lyming- 
 ton, Brockenhurst, and Mark Ash, all of which we were to 
 visit before evening, coming back by way of Lyndhurst 
 again, and stopping there for tea. But before we got 
 off, such a comic thing happened. 
 
 I did n't think to mention it in a letter, but one day we 
 passed a motor-car that was having tyre trouble by the side
 
 170 SET IN SILVER 
 
 of the road. The chauffeur was rolling on a new tyre, 
 with a curious-looking machine, in which Young Nick 
 was passionately interested, as he 'd never seen one before. 
 Sir Lionel explained that it was an American tool, not very 
 long invented, and said to be good. He added, in an evil 
 moment, that he wished he 'd thought to buy one like it 
 before leaving London, as probably the thing could n't be 
 got in the Provinces. 
 
 Well, just as we were about ^to spin away in great 
 style from the Compton Arms, one of our tyres 
 sighed, and settled down for an unearned rest. But 
 instead of looking black-browed and murderous, as he 
 did when the same thing occurred before, Nick smiled 
 gleefully. He jumped down, and without a word pro- 
 duced a machine exactly like the one his master admired 
 a few days ago. 
 
 "Where did you get that?" asked Sir Lionel. 
 
 "Last night, sahib," returned Nick, imperturbably. 
 (He can speak quite good English.) 
 
 " What ! Since we had our trouble ? " 
 
 "Yes, sahib." An odd expression now began to play 
 among Nick's brown features, like a breeze over a field of 
 growing wheat. 
 
 " How's that ? There 's no shop." 
 
 "The sahib says true. I found this thing." 
 
 "Where?" sharply. 
 
 "But a little way from here. In the road." 
 
 "You rascal," exclaimed Sir Lionel. " You stole it." 
 
 Young Nick made Buddha eyebrows and a Buddha 
 gesture. "The sahib knows all. But if I did take it? 
 Those men, they were going again to the big city. We
 
 SET IN SILVER 171 
 
 away. They never miss this. They buy another. It is 
 better we have it." 
 
 Trying to look very angry, though I knew he was dying 
 to laugh, Sir Lionel reproached Nick for breaking a solemn 
 promise. "You swore you 'd never do such a thing in 
 England if I brought you with me. Now you Ve begun 
 again, the same old game. I shall have to send you back, 
 that is all." 
 
 "Then I die, and that is all," replied Young Nick, 
 calmly. 
 
 The end of the story is, that Sir Lionel found out the 
 names of the men, who had spent the night at the Comp- 
 ton Arms, and had written their address in the visitors' 
 book. He sent the tool to them, with an explanation which 
 I should have loved to read. And it appears that, though 
 Nick is honest personally, he is a thief for the car, and in 
 Bengal took anything new and nice which other motors 
 had and his had n't. 
 
 Now, Mrs. Norton is afraid that, if Sir Lionel scolds him 
 much, he will commit hari-kari on the threshold of the 
 hotel, which would be embarrassing. And it does no 
 good to tell her that hari-kari is a Japanese or Chinese 
 trick. She says, if Nick would not do that he might do 
 something worse. 
 
 Gliding over the perfect roads of the Forest, Apollo 
 seemed actually to float. I never felt anything so delicious, 
 and so like being a goddess reclining on a wind-blown 
 cloud. No wonder motorists' faces, when you can see 
 them, almost always look madly happy. So different from 
 "hay motorists," as The Blot says. They generally look 
 grumpy.
 
 172 SET IN SILVER 
 
 The little wild ponies were one of the Forest's surprises 
 for me. We met lots of them, mostly miniature mothers 
 giving their innocent-faced, rough babies an airing; delight- 
 ful beastkins. And I almost liked Mrs. Senter for having 
 a cousin who owns one of these ponies as a pet, a dwarf 
 one, no bigger than a St. Bernard dog. It wears a collar 
 with silver bells, follows her everywhere, thinks nothing of 
 curling up on a drawing-room sofa, and once was found 
 on its mistress's bed, asleep on a new Paris hat. 
 
 The enticing rose-bowered cottages we passed ought to 
 have told me that we were back in Hampshire again, if the 
 New Forest had n't seemed to a poor little foreigner like 
 a separate county all by itself. It would be no credit to a 
 bride to clamour for love in such a cottage, and turn up 
 her nose at palaces. She might be married at the beautiful 
 church of Lyndhurst (a most immediate jewel of a church, 
 with an exquisite altar-piece by Lord Leighton, a Flaxman, 
 and a startlingly fine piece of sculpture by an artist named 
 Cockerell), then, safely wedded, plunge with her bride- 
 groom into the Forest, and be perfectly happy without ever 
 coming out again. I wish I had had the " Forest Lovers " 
 to re-read while we were there. I think Maurice Hewlett 
 must have got part of his inspiration in those mysterious 
 green " walks " which lead away into that land where fairy 
 lore and historic legend go hand in hand. 
 
 Lyndhurst, which King George III. loved, is pretty, 
 but we did n't stop to look at it, because we were coming 
 back that way. After seeing the church which, though 
 modern, I would n't have missed for a great deal, we spun 
 on to Beaulieu Abbey, the home of a hero of motoring. 
 There we saw a perfect house, rising among trees, and
 
 SET IN SILVER 173 
 
 sharing with the sky a clear sheet of water as a mirror. 
 Once this was a guest-house for the Abbey; now it 's 
 called the Palace House, and deserves its name. Its look- 
 ing-glass is really only a long creek, which spills out of the 
 Solent, but it seems like a lake ; and you 've only to walk 
 along a meadow path to the refectory of the old abbey. 
 From there you go through a mysterious door into 
 the ruined cloisters, which used to belong to the Cister- 
 cians the " White Monks." King John provided 
 money for the building; which proves that it 's an ill wind 
 which blows no one any good, because the stingy, tyrannical 
 old king would n't have given a penny to the abbots if 
 they had n't scourged him in a nightmare he had. I 
 shan't soon forget the magnolia and the myrtle in the quad- 
 rangle, and if I were one of the long-vanished monks, I 
 should haunt the place. There could n't be a lovelier one. 
 
 From Beaulieu we went to Lymington, a quaint and 
 ancient town, with a picturesque port. Everything there 
 looked happy and sleepy, except the postillions on the 
 Bournemouth coach, which was stopping at the hotel where 
 we had an early lunch. They were wide awake and jolly, 
 under their old-fashioned, broad-brimmed beaver hats. 
 
 After Lymington, we skimmed through the Forest, 
 hardly knowing or caring whither, though we did manage 
 to find Brockenhurst, and Mark Ash, which was almost 
 the finest of all with its glorious trees. Our one wish was 
 to avoid highways, and Sir Lionel was clever about that. 
 The sweetest bit was a mere by-path, hardly to be 
 called a road, though the surface was superb. Young 
 Nick had to get down and open a gate, which led into what 
 seemed a private place, and no one who had n't been
 
 174 SETINSILVER 
 
 told to go that way would have thought of it. On the 
 other side of the gate it was just another part of forest 
 fairyland, whose inhabitants turned themselves into trees 
 as we, in our motor-car, intruded on them. I never saw 
 such extraordinary imitations of the evergreen family as 
 they contrived on the spur of the moment. It was a glam- 
 orous wood, and throughout the whole forest I had more 
 and more the feeling that England is n't so small as it 's 
 painted. There are such vast spaces not lived in at all, 
 yet haunted with legend and history. One place we 
 passed hardly a place, it was so small was called 
 Tyrrel's Ford ; and there Sir Walter Tyrrel is said to have 
 stopped to have his horse's shoes reversed by a black- 
 smith, on his flight to the sea, after killing the Red King. 
 Or no, now I remember, this was next day, between Ring- 
 wood and Christchurch! 
 
 When we were having tea at Lyndhurst on our way back, 
 at a hotel like a country house in a great garden, we found 
 out that it once had been the home of your forty-second 
 cousin, the Due de Stacpoole, who came to England with 
 Louis Philippe. There 's his beautiful tapestry, to this 
 day, in the dining-room, and his gorgeous magnolia tree 
 looking wistfully into the window, as if asking why he 
 is n't there to admire its creamy flowers, big as fat snow- 
 balls. 
 
 On our way home the rabbits of the New Forest were 
 having a party, and were annoyed with us for coming 
 to it without invitations. They kept " crossing our path " 
 as people in melodramas say, so that we had to go slowly, 
 not to run over them, and sometimes they galloped ahead, 
 just in front of us, exactly in the middle of the road, so that
 
 SET IN SILVER 175 
 
 we could n't pass them. Dick kept longing to " pot " at 
 the poor little pets, but Sir Lionel said he had lived out 
 of England long enough to find a good deal of pleasure 
 in life without taking that of any other creature. That 
 is n't a very dragonish sentiment, is it ? 
 
 Next day we had a delicious run (there 's no other 
 adjective which quite expresses it) through Ringwood, 
 which is a door of the Forest, to Christchurch, another 
 Abbey (no, it 's a Priory ; but to me that 's a detail) which 
 stands looking at its own beauty in a crystal mirror. 
 It 's Augustan, not Cistercian, like Beaulieu; and it 's 
 august, as well; very noble; finer to see than many a 
 cathedral. You and I, in other lands, have industriously 
 travelled many miles to visit churches without half as many 
 "features" as Christchurch. One of its quaintest 
 is a leper's window; and a few of the beauties are the 
 north transept, with unique "hatchet" ornamentation; 
 a choir with wonderful old oak carvings and the tomb 
 of the Countess of Salisbury, of whom you read aloud to 
 me when I was small, in a book called " Some Heroines of 
 History." She came last in the volume because she was 
 only a countess, and not a queen, but I cried when she 
 said she did n't mind being killed, only being touched by 
 a horrid, common axe, and wanted them to cut off her head 
 with a sword. There are lots of other beautiful things in 
 the church, too, and a nice legend about an oak beam 
 which grew long in the night, and building materials 
 which came down from a hill of their own accord, because 
 one of the builders was Christ himself. That 's why they 
 named it Christchurch, you see, instead of Twyneham, 
 as it would otherwise have been.
 
 176 SET IN SILVER 
 
 We stopped only long enough, after we had seen the 
 Priory, to pay our respects to a splendid old Norman 
 house near by, and then dashed away toward Boscombe 
 and Bournemouth, which reminded me a little of Baden- 
 Baden, with its gardens and fountains and running 
 waters; its charming trees and exciting-looking shops. 
 Just because it 's modern, we did n't pause, but swept on, 
 through scenery which suddenly degenerated. However, 
 as I heard Sir Lionel say to Mrs. Senter : " You can't go far 
 in this country without finding beauty " ; and presently she 
 was her own lovely self again, fair as Nature intended her 
 to be. I mean England, not Mrs. Senter, who is lovelier 
 than Nature made her. 
 
 We ran through miles of dense pine forests, where 
 rhododendrons grew wild ; where gulls spread silver wings 
 and trailed coral feet a few yards above our heads; and 
 the tang of the sea mingled with pine-balsam in our 
 nostrils. 
 
 Soon after dull, but historic Wareham we came quite 
 into the heart of Thomas Hardy's country. Scarcely had 
 we turned our backs on Wareham (which I was n't sorry 
 to do), when I cried out at something on a distant height 
 something which was like a background in a mediaeval 
 picture. It was Corfe Castle, of which I 'd been thinking 
 ever since Amesbury, because of the wicked Elfrida; 
 but the glimpse was delusive, for the dark shape hid in 
 a moment, and we did n't see it again for a long time 
 not until our curving road ran along underneath the 
 castle's towering hill. Then it soared up with imposing 
 effect, giving an impression of grisly strength which was 
 heightened the nearer we approached. Distance lends no
 
 SET IN SILVER 177 
 
 enchantment to Corfe, for the castle dominates the dour, 
 gray town that huddles round it, and is never nobler than 
 when you tap for admittance at its gates. 
 
 I tried to think, as we waited to go in, how young 
 Edward felt Edward the Martyr when he stood at 
 the gates, waiting to go in and visit his half-brother whom 
 he loved, and his step-mother Elfrida, whom he hated. 
 He never left the castle alive, poor boy! Afterward, 
 in the ruins, I went to the window where Elfrida was 
 supposed to have watched the young king's coming, 
 before she ran down to the gates and directed the murder 
 which was planned to give her own son the kingdom. 
 It made the story seem almost too realistic, because, as 
 you often tell me, my imagination carries me too fast 
 and too far. There 's nothing easier than to send it back 
 ten or twelve centuries in the same number of minutes 
 and it 's such a cheap way of travelling, too ! 
 
 Corfe is in Dorset, you must know, a county as different 
 from others as I am different from the real EUaline 
 Lethbridge, and the castle is at the very centre of the Isle 
 of Purbeck, which makes it seem even more romantic than 
 it would otherwise. I 'm afraid it was n't really even 
 begun hi the days of Elfrida, or " ^Elfrith," who had only 
 a hunting lodge there; but if people will point out her 
 window, am I to blame if I try to make firm belief attract 
 shy facts? Besides, facts are such dull dogs in the his- 
 torical kennels until they 've been taught a few tricks. 
 
 Anyhow, Corfe is Norman, at worst, and not only did 
 King John keep much treasure there, but one supposes 
 there 's some hidden still. If I could only have found 
 it, I *d be buying a castle for you and me to live in. Sir
 
 178 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Lionel thinks that I, as his ward, will live in his castle; 
 and he was telling me at Corfe about the Norman tower 
 at Graylees. But, alas, I knew better. Oh, I did n't 
 mean that "alas"! Consider it erased; and the other 
 silly things I wrote you the other night, please. They 're 
 all so useless. 
 
 There were loads of interesting prisoners in Corfe Castle, 
 at one time or another, knights from France, and fair 
 ladies, the fairest of all, the beautiful " Damsel of Brittany," 
 who had claims to the English crown. And kings have 
 visited there; and in Cromwell's day a lady and her 
 daughters successfully defended it in a great siege. It 
 was such a splendid and brave defence that it seems sad, 
 even to this day, to think how the castle fell after all, a 
 year later, and to see the great stones and masses of 
 masonry lying, far below the height, exactly where they 
 rolled when Parliament ordered the conquered towers to 
 be blown up by gunpowder. The Bankes family, who 
 still own Corfe, must be proud of that Lady Bankes, 
 their ancestress, who held the castle. And is n't it nice, 
 the Bankes still have the old keys, where they live, at 
 Kingston Lacy? 
 
 You like Thomas Hardy's " Hand of Ethelberta " next 
 to "Far from the Madding Crowd." Well, Coomb 
 Castle in that book is really Corfe Castle. I told you we 
 were in Hardy country. After Wareham, and not very 
 far away, at Wool, is an old, old manor-house of the 
 Turbervilles, turned into a farmhouse now. You don't 
 need to be reminded of what Hardy made of that, I know. 
 
 We lunched at an interesting old inn, like all the rest 
 of the ancient houses of Corfe, slate-roofed, grim and gray.
 
 SET IN SILVER 179 
 
 Then we coasted down the steep hill to the plain again, 
 making for Swanage. It was dusty, but we were n't 
 sorry, because, just when we were travelling rather fast, 
 on a perfectly clear road, a policeman popped out like a 
 Jack-in-the-Box, apparently from nowhere. You could 
 tell by his face he was a "trappist," as Dick calls the 
 motor-spies, and though Sir Lionel was n't really going 
 beyond the legal limit, he glared at our number as if he 
 meant mischief. But that number-plate had thought- 
 fully masked itself in dust, so with all the will in the world 
 he could work us no harm after our backs were turned. 
 Once in a while it does seem as if Nature sympathized 
 with the poor, maligned motorist whom nobody loves, and 
 is willing to throw her protection over him. It would be 
 like tempting Providence to polish off dust or mud, in such 
 circumstances, would n't it ? 
 
 My face was a different matter, though, and I longed to 
 polish it. Before we got to Swanage, it felt even under 
 chiffon just as an iced cake must feel. Only the cake, 
 fortunately for its contour, never needs to smile. 
 
 We were going to Swanage because of the caves 
 Tilly Whim Caves. Did you ever hear of them, Paris- 
 ienne mamma? Small blame to you, if not, be- 
 cause one can't know everything; but they are worth 
 seeing; and the Swanage harbour is a little dream. The 
 town is good, too. Old-world, and very, very respect- 
 able-looking, as if it were full of long-established lawyers 
 and clergymen, yet not dull, like Wareham, which was 
 important in Saxon days, long before Swanage was 
 born or thought of. It 's " Knollsea " in the " Hand 
 of Ethelberta." Do you remember? And Alfred the
 
 180 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Great had a victory close by so close, that in a storm 
 the Danish ships blew into what is the town now, as if 
 they had been butterflies with their wings wet. 
 
 We climbed up, up above the village, in the motor-car, 
 on the steepest, twistingest road I 've seen yet in England, 
 though Sir Lionel says I '11 think nothing of it when we 
 get into Devonshire; up, up to a high place where they 've 
 built a restaurant. Near by we left the motor (and Emily, 
 who never walks for pleasure), and ho, for the caves! 
 It was a scramble among dark cliffs of Purbeck limestone. 
 The caves are delightfully weird, and of course there 
 are smuggling stories about them. A strange wind blew 
 through their labyrinths, ceaselessly, like the breathings 
 of a hidden giant, betrayed by sleep. It was heavenly 
 cool in that dim twilight that never knew sun, but oh, it 
 was hot coming out into the afternoon glare, and climbing 
 the steep path to where the motor waited! I think Mrs. 
 Senter was sorry she had n't stopped with Emily. She 
 got a horrid headache, and felt so ill that Sir Lionel asked 
 if she would care to stop all night at Swanage, and she 
 said she would. 
 
 Fortunately, it turned out that there were good hotels, 
 and Sir Lionel took rooms at the one we liked the best 
 old-fashioned in an agreeable way. Mrs. Senter went to 
 bed, but the rest of us strolled out after dinner; and Mrs. 
 Norton began talking to Dick about his mother, which 
 threw Sir Lionel and me together. 
 
 We sat on the pier, where tJie moon turned bright pink 
 as she dipped down into a bank of clouds like a rose- 
 garden growing out of the sea. And even when it was 
 dark, the sea kept its colour, the deep blue of sapphires,
 
 SET IN SILVER 181 
 
 where, at a distance, little white yachts and sailboats looked 
 like a company of crescent moons floating in an azure 
 sky. I felt in the sweetest mood, kind toward all the 
 world, and particularly to Sir Lionel. I could n't bear 
 to remember that I 'd ever had bad thoughts, and doubts, 
 so I was half sub-consciously nicer to him than I ever was 
 before. Dick kept glaring at me, from his seat beside 
 Mrs. Norton, and drawing his eyebrows together when he 
 thought Sir Lionel was n't looking. Going home, he got 
 a chance for a few words, when Emily was speaking to 
 her brother about Mrs. Senter's headache. He said 
 that there was something he must say to me, alone, and 
 he wanted me to come out into the garden behind the hotel, 
 to talk to him when the others had gone to bed, but of 
 course I refused. Then he said, would I manage to give 
 him a few minutes next day, and intimated, gently, 
 that I 'd be sorry if I did n't. I told him that " I 'd 
 see"; which is always a safe answer; but I haven't 
 "managed" yet. 
 
 When I got back to my room at the hotel I noticed that 
 some of my things were n't in the places where I 'd 
 left them; and the writing portfolio in a dressing-case 
 which Sir Lionel thinks is mine, but is really Ellaline's 
 (one of the Bond Street purchases), had my papers 
 changed about in it. The servants in the house seemed so 
 respectable and nice, I can't think that one of them would 
 have pried. And yet well, the truth is, I 'm afraid of 
 being catty, but I can't help putting Mrs. Senter's head- 
 ache and my disturbed papers together in my mind. 
 Two and two when put together, make four, you know. 
 And her room hi the Swanage hotel was next to mine.
 
 182 SET IN SILVER 
 
 She might have been sure that we 'd all go out after 
 dinner on such a perfect night. But why should she 
 bother ? Unless Dick has told her something, after all ? 
 I suppose I shall never know whether it was she or some- 
 one else who meddled. I looked through all the papers 
 and other things, but could find nothing " compromising," 
 as the adventuresses say. However, I can't quite remem- 
 ber what I had. Some letter may have been taken. I have 
 been a tiny bit worried since, for you know Ellaline would 
 never forgive me if anything should go wrong now. 
 And I 've been thinking that, though Sir Lionel is no 
 dragon, there may be something about Honore du 
 Guesclin which he would n't approve. Ellaline may 
 even have her own reasons for thinking he would n't 
 approve, dragon or no dragon. Very likely she 
 did n't tell me everything she was so anxious to have 
 her own way. 
 
 But to go back to the journey here. Almost each mile we 
 travelled gave us some thought of Hardy, and acquainted 
 me with the character of Dorset, which is just what I 
 expected from his books : giant trees ; tall, secretive hedges ; 
 high brick walls, mellow with age and curtained with ivy; 
 stone cottages, solid and prosperous and old, with queer 
 little bay-windows, diamond-paned ; Purbeck granite 
 bursting through the grass of meadows, and making a 
 grave background for brilliant flowers; heaths that Hardy 
 wrote about in the "Return of the Native" heaths, 
 heaths, and rolling downs. 
 
 We took the way from Swanage to West Lulworth, and 
 had an adventure on a hill. Sir Lionel is very strict with 
 his little Buddha about examining everything that could
 
 SET IN SILVER 183 
 
 possibly go wrong with the motor, and just before we 
 started, I heard him ask Young Nick if he had looked at 
 the brakes after our descent from Tilly Whim. "Oh, 
 yes, sahib," said the brown image. "Oh, no!" said the 
 brakes themselves, on a big hill, as far from the madding 
 crowd as " Gabriel " and " Bathsheba " ever lived. We 'd 
 got lost, and that was the way the car punished us. First 
 of all, the motor refused to work. That made Apollo 
 feel faint, so that he began to run backward down the 
 hill instead of going up; and when Sir Lionel put on the 
 brakes, they would n't act. 
 
 It was the first time anything really bad had happened, 
 and my heart gave a jump, but somehow I was n't fright- 
 ened. With Sir Lionel driving, it seemed as if no harm 
 could come; and it did n't, for he steered to the side of the 
 road, and brought the car up short against a great hum- 
 mock of grass. All the same, we nearly tipped over, and Sir 
 Lionel told us to jump. I should n't have stirred if he 
 hadn't spoken. I should have awaited orders; but the 
 others were moving before we stopped, and Mrs. Senter 
 fell down and bumped her knee. That made her hair come 
 partly undone, and, to my horror, a bunch of the dearest 
 little curls, which I always thought lived there, were 
 loosened. There was a great wind blowing, and in a 
 second more the curls would have been on the horizon, if 
 I had n't seized them just as they were about to take 
 flight. If they 'd gone, they must have passed almost in 
 front of Sir Lionel's nose, on their way. Would n't that 
 have been dreadful ? I should think she could never 
 have looked him in the face again, for her hair 's her great- 
 est beauty, and she 's continually saying things about its
 
 184 SET IN SILVER 
 
 being all her own, and having more than she knows what 
 to do with. 
 
 But luckily his back was turned when I caught the 
 curls, and stuffed them hastily into her hand before she was 
 on her feet, nobody seeing except Dick. I suppose a 
 nephew does n't count! But do you know, dear, if they 'd 
 been my curls, I believe she 'd have loved Sir Lionel to 
 see them. I don't like her a bit, but all the more I 
 could n't be mean. I reserve all my cattyness toward 
 her for my letters to you, when I let myself go, and 
 stretch my little nails in my velvet paw. 
 
 I was sorry for Young Nick! He was miserably 
 sheepish, and vowed that he really had examined the 
 brakes. Sir Lionel just looked at him, and raised his 
 eyebrows; that was all, because he would n't scold the 
 poor little wretch before us. 
 
 It was as much as the three men could do to get Apollo 
 down on his four tyres again, for, though he seemed as 
 lightly balanced as an eccentric dancer trying to touch 
 one eyelid to the floor, he was partly embedded in the 
 bank by the roadside. Then we all sat gracefully about, 
 while Sir Lionel and the chauffeur worked Young Nick 
 under the car, looking sometimes like a contortionist 
 tying himself into lover's knots, sometimes like a min- 
 iature Michelangelo lying on his back to paint a fresco. 
 I hope, though, that Michael never had half the trouble 
 finding his paints and brushes that Nick had to get at his 
 tommies and jemmies, and dozens of strange little instru- 
 ments. He lay with his mouth bristling with giant pins, 
 and had the air of a conscientious dentist filling a difficult 
 tooth.
 
 SET IN SILVER 185 
 
 It was a long time before the brakes were properly 
 tightened up and the four cylinders breathing freely 
 again; but it would have been ungracious to be bored in 
 such a glorious wild place, in such glorious weather. 
 There was a kind of Walt Whitman feeling in the air 
 that made me want to sing; and finally I could resist 
 no longer. I burst out with those verses of his which 
 you set to music for me. At least, I sang a few 
 bars; and you ought to have seen Sir Lionel wheel 
 round and look at me when he heard my voice. I 
 never said anything to him about knowing how to sing, 
 so he was surprised. 
 
 "Why, you have quite a pretty voice, Ellaline!" said 
 Mrs. Norton. 
 
 "'Quite a pretty voice!' I should say she had!" 
 remarked Sir Lionel. He did n't say any more. But I 
 never had a compliment I liked better; and I did n't mind 
 a bit when Mrs. Senter remarked that anyone would fancy 
 I was a professional. 
 
 I was almost sorry to go on at last, though Emily was 
 worrying lest we should get no lunch. But we saw 
 beautiful things as we spun toward Lulworth, rushing so 
 swiftly along an empty road that the hedges roared past 
 us like dark cataracts. It was thrilling, and showed 
 what Apollo could do when he chose. If there had been 
 a soul on the road, of course we would n't have done 
 such deeds; though I must say, from what I 've seen, if 
 you creep along so as not to kick up a dust and annoy 
 people, they aren't at all grateful, but only scorn instead 
 of hating you, and think you can't go faster, or you would. 
 Still, you have the consciousness of innocence. One thing
 
 186 SET IN SILVER 
 
 we saw was a delightful Tudor house, called Creech 
 Grange; and the ancestor of the man who owns it built 
 Bond Street. I 'm sure I don't know why, but I 'm glad 
 he did. We took the valley way on purpose to see the 
 Grange, instead of going over Ring Hill and other windy 
 heights, but it was worth the sacrifice. 
 
 Lulworth Castle, which we passed, is rather like 
 Graylees, Sir Lionel said; so now I wish more than ever 
 that I could see Graylees, for Lulworth is fine and feudal. 
 But I shall have burst like a bubble before the time comes 
 for Graylees. 
 
 There! I have brought you with us to Lulworth 
 Cove, at last the adorable little place where, at 
 this moment, as I told you at the beginning of my 
 letter, I 'm sitting on the beach among red and green 
 fishing boats. 
 
 You would n't dream of Lulworth's existence until 
 it suddenly breaks on you, and you see the blue bay 
 lying asleep in the arms of giant rocks, which appear 
 to have had a violent convulsion without disturbing the 
 baby sheet of water. I suppose they were angry with the 
 world for finding out their secret; for it has found out, 
 and loves to come to Lulworth Cove. However, the place 
 contrives to look as unknown as ever, as if only some lazy 
 gulls and a few fishermen mending lobster-pots had ever 
 heard a hint of it. There 's a narrow street; a few pretty 
 old cottages; a comfortable hotel where we had crabs, 
 divine though devilled, and omelette au rhum floating in 
 flames of the blue I should like my eyes to be when angn r ; 
 there 's a post-office, and nothing else that I can thi_r 
 of, except circling hills, a golden sweep of beach, and sea
 
 SET IN SILVER 187 
 
 of ethereal azure creaming against contorted rocks. 
 That 's all; but it 's a little Paradise, and 
 
 Night, of the same day. 
 
 Just there I was interrupted. Dick Burden came, 
 and I had to listen to him, unless I wanted a scene. I 
 could n't appeal to any nice brown fisherman to please 
 feed him to the lobsters, so I sat still and let him talk. 
 He said that he was awfully in love with me. A charming 
 fashion he 's taken to show it, has n't he ? As I remarked 
 to him. 
 
 He replied in the old, old way, about all being fair, etc., 
 etc. I asked him which it was, love or war, and he said 
 it was both. He knew I wasn't in love (I should 
 think not, indeed!), but he wanted me to promise 
 to be engaged to him from now on. 
 
 "I won't," said I short and sudden, like that. 
 
 "You '11 jolly well have to," said he. Then he pro- 
 ceeded to warn me that if I did n't, my friend Miss 
 Ellaline Lethbridge must look out for herself, because I 
 would no longer be in a position to guard her interests. 
 
 I mentioned that he was a perfect beast, and he said it 
 might be true, but I was a deceiver, and it was not good 
 taste for the pot to call the kettle black. 
 
 "I 'd rather go into the kind of convent where one 's 
 not allowed to speak a word all one's life, except 'Memento 
 mori,' than marry you," said I, politely. 
 
 But it seemed that he was n't thinking so much about 
 being married, as just being engaged. As to marrying, we 
 were both very young, and he would wait for me till we 
 could afford to marry, which might n't be for some time
 
 188 SET IN SILVER 
 
 yet, he explained. What he was keen on beginning at 
 once, was being engaged. 
 
 "Why?" I asked, savagely. 
 
 "Because I don't want anyone else to think he has a 
 chance. That 's the plain truth," said Dick, in the most 
 brazen way. 
 
 That staggered me; for he was glaring straight into my 
 eyes in such a meaning way I could n't help understand- 
 ing who was in his mind. So utterly ridiculous! As if 
 the person he meant would ever think of me ! And Dick 
 used to say himself that Sir Lionel Pendragon took no 
 interest in girls, or any women except Mrs. Senter. I 'd 
 have liked to remind him of this, only I would n't let him 
 see that I read his thoughts. 
 
 " I believe you must be mad," said I. 
 
 " I should n't wonder," said he. " Anyhow, I 'm mad 
 enough to go straight to Sir Lionel with the whole story the 
 minute he comes back from his walk with his sister and 
 my aunt, unless you do what I want." 
 
 "That won't be very nice for Mrs. Senter," I tem- 
 porized, " if she 's enjoying this trip she was so anxious 
 to take; for if Sir Lionel knows about Ellaline the tour 
 will probably break up, and he '11 rush over to France. 
 
 " On the contrary, it will be nice for her," Dick returned, 
 *' because many a heart is caught in the rebound." 
 
 I said that this argument was too intricate for me, but 
 it was n't really. I knew quite well what he meant, though 
 of course he is absolutely mistaken, as far as Sir Lionel's 
 feelings toward me are concerned. But I had to think 
 quickly, and I thought maybe he was right about his 
 aunt. She would be a woman who would make any use
 
 SET IN SILVER 189 
 
 of an emergency. And once she had compromised poor 
 Sir Lionel, it would be too late, for I have an idea he 'd 
 be exaggeratedly honourable. 
 
 You may smile at my saying she 'd compromise him. 
 But you know what I mean. I 'm not sure /do but 
 anyhow, I could n't bear to have her do it, especially if it 
 could be prevented by me. I sat still a minute, 
 reflecting, and then asked Dick what he meant by " being 
 engaged." 
 
 He replied that he meant the usual thing; and I replied 
 to this that nothing could tempt me. He saw I would n't 
 go back from my word, so he promised, if I would be 
 engaged, that he 'd not try even to hold my hand until I 
 should be willing. All he would ask was, that he might 
 tell his aunt we had a " kind of a, sort of an understanding," 
 which might develop into an engagement, and let her tell 
 Sir Lionel. Nothing more than that; and why should I 
 mind, when in any case there could never have been a 
 question of my marrying Sir L. ? 
 
 I said I did mind horribly, but not on that account, 
 and I should never marry anyone. I was almost ready 
 to cry, I felt so wretched. I don't think I was ever as 
 miserable in my life, dear; though, when I come to argue 
 it out with myself, I 've pretended so much to please 
 Ellaline, it ought n't to matter, pretending a little more. 
 
 Just then all three of the others came along, and seeing 
 us on the beach, joined us. Dick put on a familiar air 
 with me, as if he had rights, and I saw Sir Lionel glance 
 from me to him, and draw his eyebrows together. 
 
 I came indoors then, to my room, and did n't go out 
 again till dinner time. I was half afraid Mrs. Senter
 
 190 SET IN SILVER 
 
 might already have got in her deadly work, but if she had, 
 Sir Lionel did n't say anything to me. Only it was a 
 horrid dinner, in spite of nice, seaside things to eat. 
 Nobody spoke much, and I felt so choked I could hardly 
 swallow. 
 
 Oh, I am homesick for you, dear. I hurried upstairs, 
 as soon as dinner was over, saying I had letters to write. 
 To-morrow, early, we start for Sidmouth, in Devonshire, 
 going by way of Weymouth and Dorchester. As I write, 
 looking from my window, across which I have n't drawn 
 the curtains, I can see Sir Lionel and Mrs. Senter strolling 
 out of the hotel, toward the beach. There 's a lovely blue 
 dusk, which the sunset struck into a million glorious 
 sparks, and then let fade again into a dull glow, like ashes 
 of roses. They look a romantic couple walking together. 
 I wonder if they are talking about each other, to each 
 other, or about Dick and me? I feel as if I should have 
 to scream " Sir Lionel, don't believe it. It is n't true!" 
 But of course, I can't. I think I shall go to bed, and then 
 I won't be tempted to look out of the window. 
 
 Always your own loving 
 
 AUDRIE. 
 
 Please write at once, and address Poste Restante, 
 Torquay.
 
 XIV 
 
 SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL PATRICK 
 O'HAGAN 
 
 Knoll Park Hotel, Sidmouth, Devon 
 August 2nd, Evening 
 
 MY DEAR PAT: I am a fool. By this time you will 
 soon be receiving my first letter, and saying to yourself,, 
 " He is on the way to being a fool." Well, I am already 
 that fool. I did n't see where I was drifting, but I see 
 now that it had begun then; and of course you, a spec- 
 tator, won't be dense as I was at first. You will know. 
 
 I did n't suppose this thing could happen to me again. 
 I thought I was safe. But at forty, it 's worse with me 
 than when I was twenty-one. 
 
 I don't need to explain. Yet I will say in self-defence 
 that, fool as I am, I am not going to let anyone but you 
 know that I 'm a fool. Especially the girl. She would 
 be thunderstruck. Not that girls of nineteen have n't 
 married men of forty, and perhaps cared for them. But 
 this girl has been brought up since her babyhood to think 
 of me as her guardian, and an elderly person beyond the 
 pale where love or even flirtation is concerned. Imagine 
 a daughter and namesake of Ellaline de Nesville being in 
 the society of a man, and not trying to flirt with him! 
 It 's almost inconceivable. But Ellaline the second 
 191
 
 192 SET IN SILVER 
 
 shows not the slightest inclination to flirt with me. She 
 is gentle, sweet, charming, even obedient; perhaps I 
 might say daughterly, if I were willing to hurt my own 
 feelings. Therefore, even without Mr. Dick Burden's 
 oppressive respect for me, I must suppose that I am 
 regarded as a generation behind. 
 
 By the way, that young beast made me a present of a 
 cane the other day. Not an ordinary stick, but an old 
 gentleman's cane, with a gold head on it. He said he 
 saw it in a shop at Weymouth, where we stopped for lunch, 
 and thought it so handsome, he begged that I would 
 accept it. His aunt laughed, called him a ridiculous 
 little boy, and advised me to have " Thou shalt not steal " 
 engraved on a gold band, with my name and address. 
 This was to soothe my amour propre; but, while I wonder 
 whether the thing really is a gift suitable to my years, 
 I long to lay it across the giver's back. He gave it to me 
 before Ellaline, too. What an idiot I am to care! I 
 can laugh, for my sense of humour has n't yet jilted 
 me, if my good sense has. But the laugh is on the wrong 
 side of my mouth. 
 
 I feel somewhat better, having confessed my foolishness 
 which you would have divined without the confession. 
 The girl doesn't suspect. I enact the "heavy father" 
 even more ostentatiously than if I were n't ass enough to 
 prefer a role for which time and our relationship have 
 unfitted me. But it 's rather curious, is n't it, what power 
 one little woman can wield over a man's life, even the life 
 of a man who is as far as possible from being a "woman's 
 man" ? Ellaline de Nesville pretty well spoiled my early 
 youth, or would if I had n't freed myself to take up other
 
 SET IN SILVER 195 
 
 interests. She burdens the remainder of my young years 
 by making me, willy nilly, the guardian of her child. 
 And, not content with that, she (indirectly) destroys 
 what might have been the comfortable contentment 
 of my middle age. 
 
 Women are the devil. All but this one and she 
 is n't a woman yet. 
 
 The dangerous part is that I am not as grimly unhappy 
 as I ought to be. There are moments, hours, when I 
 forget that there 's any obstacle dividing Ellaline's future 
 from mine. I think of her as belonging to me. I feel 
 that she is to be a part of my life always, as she is now. 
 And until I have again drummed it into my rebellious 
 head that she is not for me, that my business with her is 
 to see that she gets a rich, well-born, and well-looking 
 young husband, not more than two-thirds of my age, I 
 enjoy myself hugely in her nearness. 
 
 But, why not, after all? Just for the length of this 
 tour in the motor-car, which throws us so constantly 
 together? As long as I don't betray myself, why not? 
 Why not revel in borrowed sunshine? At Graylees, I 
 can turn over a new leaf; I need see very little of her there. 
 She and Emily will have plenty to do, with their social 
 duties, and I shall have my own. Let me be a fool in 
 peace till Graylees, then. If I can be a fool in peace! 
 
 Talking of borrowed sunshine, England seems to have 
 borrowed an inexhaustible supply from some more " fav- 
 oured clime" this summer. I dare say we shall have to 
 pay for it later. I shall have to pay for my private supply, 
 too but no matter. 
 
 Next to my native Cornwall, I think I prefer Devon-
 
 194 SET IN SILVER 
 
 shire; and Devonshire is being particularly kind and 
 hospitable, offering us her choicest gifts. 
 
 It 's said that the Earth is a host who murders all his 
 guests. But he certainly gives some of us, for some of 
 the time, glorious innings during our visit to him. I 
 don't complain, though my stay so far has been accom- 
 panied by a good deal of stormy weather. 
 
 I remember your once remarking that Weymouth 
 would be a good place to hide in, if you wanted to grow 
 a beard or anything lingering and unbecoming; but you 
 wouldn't make that remark now: there are too many 
 pretty women in the nice, tranquil old town. Just at 
 this season it 's far from dull, and walking along the 
 Esplanade, while young Nick mended a tyre, I understood 
 something of George the Third's fondness for the place. 
 Certainly vanity would n't permit you to show your nose 
 on- parade or beach, in these times, during the beard- 
 growing process, for there 's apparently no hour of the day 
 when a lively scene is n't being enacted on both: the sands 
 thickly dotted with tents ; charming girls bathing, chubby 
 children playing, pretty women reading novels under red 
 parasols, fishermen selling silver-scaled fish, boatmen 
 soliciting custom; the parade crowded with "trippers," 
 soldiers and sailors; the wide road noisy with motor-cars 
 and motor- 'buses ; even the sea gay with boats of all de- 
 scriptions, and at least one big war vessel hovering in the 
 distance. Besides, there is the clock-tower. I don't know 
 why I like it so much, but I do. I have a feeling that 
 Weymouth would be worth a visit for the sake of that 
 clock alone; and then there 's the extraordinary historical 
 and geological interest, which no other watering-place has.
 
 SET IN SILVER 195 
 
 Burden was anxious to go over to Portland, lured there, 
 no doubt, by the incipient detective talent of which he 
 boasts ; but the ladies voted it too sad a place to see, on an 
 excursion of pleasure, and perhaps they were right. The 
 sort of woman who would like to go and spend a happy 
 afternoon staring at a lot of unfortunate wretches dressed 
 in a pattern of broad arrows, would go "slumming" out 
 of idle curiosity; and I have always thought I could not 
 love a woman who amused herself by slumming, any 
 more than I could love one who eagerly patronized bull- 
 
 Thomas Hardy's work is too near Nature's heart to 
 appeal to Mrs. Senter, and too clever for my good sister 
 Emily, who will read no author, willingly, unless he calls 
 a spade a pearl-headed hatpin. But Ellaline, strange 
 to say, has been allowed to read him. Evidently French 
 schools are not what they once were; and she and I par- 
 ticularly wanted to go through Dorchester (his Caster- 
 bridge) even though we could see nothing of Hardy's 
 place, Max Gate, except its tree-tops. A pity more 
 English towns have n't made boulevards of their earth- 
 works (since there are plenty that have earthworks), 
 planting them with chestnuts and sycamores, as Dorchester 
 has cleverly done. It was an idea worthy of a "Mayor 
 of Caster bridge." We lingered a bit, in the car, picking 
 out "landmarks" of resemblance to the book, and 
 there were plenty. You know, there 's a magnificent 
 Roman amphitheatre near by; but did we stay to look at it ? 
 My friend, we are motorists! And it happened to be a 
 grand day with the car, which, though still very new, has 
 " found " itself. " Apollo " seemed a steed of " pure air
 
 196 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never 
 appear in him." He chafed against stopping, and I 
 humoured him gladly. 
 
 " Strange," said Ellaline, yesterday, " how a person will 
 pay Ipts of money to buy a motor-car, and go tearing about 
 the world at great expense, to gratify two little black or 
 blue holes in his face; and then, instead of letting the 
 holes thoroughly absorb his money's worth, he will rush 
 past some of the best things on earth rather than 'spoil 
 a run.' " But she does n't take the intoxication of ozone 
 into consideration in this indictment. 
 
 Our road was of the best, and always interesting, with 
 some fine distant views, and here and there an avenue of 
 trees like a vast Gothic aisle in a cathedral. " We could 
 see things so nicely if it weren't for the mists!" sighed 
 Emily, who, if her wish had been a broom, would have 
 ruthlessly swept away those lacy cobwebs clinging to 
 the hill-sides. "Why," replied Ellaline, "you could 
 see a bride's face more clearly if you took away her veil, 
 but it 's the prettiest thing about her." That put my 
 feelings in a nutshell. England would be no bride for me 
 if she threw away her veil; and nowhere did it become her 
 more than in Dorset, Somerset, and Devon, where it is 
 threaded with gold and embroidered with jewels toward 
 the edge of sunset. 
 
 Of course, there 's only the most fanciful dividing 
 line between Somerset and Devon, yet I imagine the 
 two counties different in their attributes, as well as in 
 their graces. Surely in Somerset the Downs are on a 
 grander scale. Between two of them you are in a valley, 
 and think that you see mountains. In Devonshire you
 
 SET IN SILVER 197 
 
 have wider horizons, save for the lanes and hedges, 
 which do their best to keep straying eyes fastened on 
 their own beauty. 
 
 I suppose men who never have left England take such 
 beauty for granted, but to me, after the flaunting luxu- 
 riance of the East, it is enchanting. I notice everything. 
 I want someone, who cares for it as I do, to admire it with 
 me. If it were n't for Dick Burden this England would 
 be making me twenty-one again. 
 
 You should see, to understand me, all the lovely things 
 fighting sportively for supremacy in these Devonshire 
 hedges; the convolvulus pretending to throttle the honey- 
 suckle; the honeysuckle shaking creamy fists in the faces 
 of roses that push out, blushing in the starlight of wild 
 clematis, white and purple. Such gentle souls, these 
 Devonshire roses! Kind and innocent, like the sweet,, 
 sentimental "Evelinas" of old-fashioned stories, yet full 
 of health, and tingling with buds, as a young girl witL 
 fancies. 
 
 Devonshire seems to express herself in flowers, asr 
 sterner counties do in trees and rocks. Even the children 
 one meets playing in the road are flowers. They are to 
 the pretty cottages what the sweetbriar is to the hedges; 
 and no background could be daintier for the little human, 
 blossoms than those same thatched cottages with open r 
 welcoming doors. 
 
 Ellaline, fascinated by glimpses through open doors 
 (old oak dressers set with blue and white china; ancient 
 clocks with peering moon-faces; high-backed chairs; 
 bright flowers in gilt vases on gate-legged tables, all ob- 
 scurely seen through rich brown shadows) says she
 
 198 SET IN SILVER 
 
 would like to live in such a cottage with somebody she 
 loved. Who will that somebody be? I constantly 
 wonder. I should think less of her if it could be Dick 
 Burden, or one of his type, yet Mrs. Senter hints that the 
 girl likes his society. Can she ? 
 
 We had a picnic luncheon on our way to Sidmouth, 
 lingering rather long (once you have stopped your motor, 
 nothing matters. If you 're happy, you are as reluctant 
 to go on as you are to stop when going). Then, as they 
 all wished to travel by moonlight, I suggested that dinner 
 also should be a picnic. We bought food and drink at 
 Honiton, and the country being exquisite between there 
 and Sidmouth, we soon found a moss-carpeted, tree- 
 roofed dining-room, fit for an emperor. Nearby glim- 
 mered a sheet of blue-bells, lite a blue underground lake 
 that had broken through and flooded the meadow. 
 Ellaline said she would like to wash her face in it, as if 
 in a fairy cosmetic, to make her "beautiful forever." 
 I really don't believe she knows that would be super- 
 fluous trouble! And a fairy, godmother has given her 
 the gift of song. I wish you could hear her sing, Pat. 
 I have heard her only once; but if I had n't been a 
 fool already, I 'd have become one then, beyond recall. 
 
 So we sat there, on the still, blue brink of twilight, till 
 the moon rose red as a molten helmet, and cooled to a 
 silver bowl as she sailed higher, dripping light. But 
 tell me this : Would I think of such similes if I were n't 
 like a man who has eaten hasheesh and filled his brain 
 with a fantastic tumult a magical vision of romance, 
 such as his heart never knew in its youth, never can know 
 except in visions, now that youth has passed ? There 's
 
 SET IN SILVER 199 
 
 joy as well as pain in the vision, though, I can tell you, as 
 there must be in any mirage. And it was in a mirage 
 of moonlight and mystery that we took up our journey 
 again, after that second picnic, swooping bird -like, from 
 hill to valley, on our way to the Knoll Park Hotel. 
 
 It 's an historic place, by the way, with an interesting 
 past once it was a country house belonging to an 
 eccentric gentleman and at present it is extremely 
 ornamental among its lawns and Lebanon cedars. 
 
 As for Sidmouth the town, you have but to enter it to 
 feel that you are walking in a quaint old coloured litho- 
 graph one of the eighteenth-century sort, you know, 
 that the artist invariably dedicated, with extravagant 
 humility, to a marquis, if he did n't know a duke! 
 
 There 's no architecture whatever. As far as that is con- 
 cerned, children might have built the original village 
 of Sidmouth as they sat playing on the beach; but the 
 queer cottages, with their low brows of mouse-coloured 
 thatch, protruding amid absurd battlements, have a 
 fantastic charm. They are most engaging, with their 
 rustic-framed bow-windows, like surprised-looking eyes 
 in spectacles; their green veranda-eyebrows, and their 
 smiling, yellow-stucco faces, with low foreheads. The 
 house where Queen Victoria stopped as a little girl is a 
 great show place, of course, and is like a toy flung down 
 against a cushiony hillside, a battlemented doll's house, 
 forgotten by the child who let it fall, while big trees grew 
 up and tried to hide it. 
 
 Two cliffs has Sidmouth, and an innocent esplanade, 
 and that is about all, except the toy town itself. But 
 it 's a place to stay in. A happy man would never
 
 200 SET IN SILVER 
 
 tire of it, I think. An unhappy one might prefer 
 Brighton or Monte Carlo. I am neither one nor the 
 other. So I prefer a motor-car. We are on the wing 
 again to-morrow. 
 
 I must now go to our sitting-room, which looks over 
 the sea, and play a rubber of bridge with Mrs. Senter, 
 Emily, and Burden. Ellaline does n't play. 
 
 Hope I have n't bored you with my Burden, and other 
 
 complaints. ,, 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 PEN. 
 
 Later, August 2nd, Night 
 
 I have opened my letter again, to tell you what came of 
 that rubber of bridge. 
 
 I 've lost all the glamour. The reaction after the 
 hasheesh has set in. 
 
 We did n't play long. Just that one rubber, and before 
 we finished Ellaline had taken her copy of " Lorna Doone" 
 upstairs to her own room, without interrupting our game 
 for a good-night. She didn't think we saw her go; but 
 there were two of us who did. Burden was one of the 
 two. I don't need to tell you who the other fool was. 
 
 Mrs. Senter and I were partners, as we generally are, 
 if there 's any bridge going in the evening. She 's devoted 
 to the game, and it 's always she who proposes it. I 
 would generally prefer to fag up our route for next day 
 with guide-books and road-maps. But hosts, like beggars, 
 can't be "choosers." 
 
 Well, to-night Emily and Burden had all the cards, and 
 Burden wanted a second rubber, but his aunt does n't 
 like losing her money to her nephew, even though we play
 
 SET IN SILVER 201 
 
 for childishly low stakes. She said she "knew that Mrs. 
 Norton was tired," and Emily did n't deny the soft 
 impeachment, as she plays bridge in the same way she 
 would do district visiting during an epidemic of measles 
 because it is her duty. 
 
 Dick had the latest French imitation of Sherlock 
 Holmes to read, and a box of Egyptian cigarettes to smoke 
 (mine), which he evidently thinks too young for me. Emily 
 had some embroidery, which I seem to remember that 
 she began when I was a boy, and kept religiously to do in 
 hotels. (But what is there that my good sister does, 
 which she does not do religiously?) Mrs. Senter had 
 nothing to amuse or occupy her except your humble 
 servant consequently she suggested a stroll in the garden 
 before bedtime. 
 
 Shewas almost beautiful in the moonlight, quite ethereal- 
 looking, and her hair a nimbus for that small white face 
 of hers; just as small, just as white, and just as smooth as 
 when those big eyes used to look up into our eyes under 
 an Indian moon. And she is always agreeable, always 
 witty, or at least "smart." Still, I must confess that I 
 was ungallantly absent-minded until something she said 
 waked me up from a brown study. 
 
 "He really is a nice boy," she was saying, "and after 
 all, it 's a tribute to your distinguished qualities that he 
 should be afraid to speak to you." 
 
 I guessed at once that she must have been talking of 
 her nephew. 
 
 " What is he afraid to say to me ?" I enquired. 
 
 "Afraid to ask you for Miss Lethbridge," she 
 explained.
 
 202 SET IN SILVER 
 
 I think just about that time an ugly black eyelid shut 
 down over the moon. Anyhow, the world darkened for me. 
 
 "Is. n't it rather old-fashioned, in these rapid days, for 
 a young man to ask a guardian's permission to make 
 love to his ward ?" said I, savage as a chained dog. 
 
 She laughed. " Oh, he has n't waited for that to make 
 love, I 'm afraid," she returned. " But he 's afraid she 
 won't accept him without your consent." 
 
 "He seems to be afraid of several things," I growled. 
 "Afraid to speak to me afraid to speak to her." 
 
 "He is young, and love has made him modest," Mrs. 
 Senter excused her favourite. " He knows he is n't a 
 grand parti. But if they care for each other?" 
 
 "I have seen no reason to believe that she cares for 
 him," said I, thinking myself (more or less) safe in the 
 recollection of Ellaline's words at Winchester. I told 
 you about them, I think. 
 
 " Ah, well," said Mrs. Senter, " she cares enough, any- 
 how, to have entered into a pact of some sort with the poor 
 boy a kind of understanding that, if you approve, she 
 may at least think of being engaged to him in the future." 
 
 " You are sure she has done that ?" I asked, staggered 
 by this statement, which I was far from expecting. 
 
 "Quite sure, unless love (in the form of Dibk) is deaf 
 as well as blind. He certainly flatters himself that they 
 are on these terms." 
 
 "Since when?" I persisted. (By the by, I wonder if 
 the inquisitors ever hit on the ingenious plan of making 
 prisoners torture themselves? Nothing hurts worse 
 than self-torture.) 
 
 " Only since Lulworth Cove, or you would have heard
 
 SET IN SILVER 203 
 
 of it before. You know when we came back from our 
 walk, and saw them sitting on the beach together, I said 
 what a pretty picture they made?" 
 
 Naturally, I remembered extremely well. 
 
 "That was when they had their great scene. Dick 
 begged me, as an old friend of yours, to say a word when 
 I found the chance. And I confess, I 've made the chance 
 to-night. I do hope you won't think me impertinent 
 and interfering ? I 'm fond of Dick. He 's about all I 
 have to be fond of in the world. And besides just 
 because I 've never been happy myself, I want others 
 to be, while they 're young, not to waste time." 
 
 I muttered something, I hardly know what, and she 
 went on to talk to me of her past, for the first time. Said 
 she had married when little more than a child, and 
 had made the mistake of marrying a man she thought 
 she could manage to live happily with, instead of one 
 she could n't manage to live happily without. That 
 was all; but it had made all the difference and if 
 Miss Lethbridge had given her first love to Dick 
 
 I nearly said, "Hang first love!" but I held my tongue, 
 fortunately, for of course she meant well, and was only 
 doing her best for her nephew. But how anyone could 
 love that fellow passes my understanding ! Why, it seems 
 to me the creature 's parents could hardly have loved him, 
 unless he had had something of the monstrous hypnotism, 
 as well as the selfishness, of a young cuckoo in its stolen 
 nest. Yet the same hypnotism may influence birds out- 
 side the nest, I suppose. That 's the only way to account 
 for an infatuation on the part of Ellaline. 
 
 "If you are angry, Dick and I must go away,"
 
 204 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Mrs. Senter went on. " But he could n't help falling in 
 love, and to me they seem made for each other." 
 
 I had to answer that of course I was n't angry, but I 
 thought any talk of love premature, to say the least. 
 
 "You won't actually refuse your consent, then?" 
 asked she. 
 
 "Much good my refusing would do, if the girl really 
 cares!" said I. "I shan't disinherit her, whatever she 
 does." 
 
 Mrs. Senter laughed at that. "Why, even if you did," 
 said she, " it would n't matter greatly to them, because 
 Dick has something of his own, and she is an heiress, 
 is n't she ?" 
 
 Then I don't know whether I was wrong or not 
 but I swear I made the answer I did without any mean or 
 selfish motives if I can read my own soul. If Burden 
 were a fortune-hunter, I wanted to save her from him, 
 that 's all. I told Mrs. Senter that Ellaline had very little 
 money of her own. " I shall look after her, of course," 
 I said. "But the amount of the dot I may give will be 
 .determined by circumstances." 
 
 I don't know that I may n't have put this in a tactless 
 way. Anyhow, Mrs. Senter looked rather odd hurt, 
 or distressed, or something queer I could n't make quite 
 out. She said, nevertheless, that Dick did not care for 
 Miss Lethbridge's money. He had fallen in love with her 
 the first time they met. Nothing else mattered, as they 
 "would have enough to live on. But she had supposed 
 the girl almost too rich for Dick. Was n't Ellaline 
 a relation of the millionaire family of Lethbridges? 
 She had heard so.
 
 SET IN SILVER 205 
 
 I answered that the relationship was distant. That 
 Ellaline's father had once been a friend of mine, and that 
 her mother had been my cousin, though a French girl. 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Senter, as if suddenly enlightened. 
 " Is she by any chance the daughter of a Frederic 
 Lethbridge?" 
 
 What she recalled about Fred Lethbridge, I can't 
 guess. She is n't old enough to have known him, unless 
 as a child or a very young girl. But she certainly had 
 some thought in connection with him which made her 
 silent and reflective. I hope I have done Ellaline no 
 harm in case the girl really does care for Burden. I 
 never had the intention of keeping her parentage secret, 
 though at the same time it would pain me to have any 
 gossip reach her. However, to do Mrs. Senter justice, 
 I don't think she is a gossip. She likes to say "smart" 
 things, but so far as I have heard, she is never smart at 
 other people's expense. And since her confidences to 
 me concerning her past, I am sorry for the poor little 
 woman. 
 
 Not much more passed between us on the subject of 
 Ellaline and Dick, except that I refused to recommend 
 the young man to the girl's good graces. I had to tell 
 Mrs. Senter that, not even for the pleasure of pleasing her, 
 could I consent to do what she asked. But I did finally 
 promise to let Ellaline know that personally I had no 
 objection to the alleged "understanding," if it were for 
 her happiness. Nevertheless, I would advise her that 
 she must do nothing rash. Mrs. Senter not only per- 
 mitted, but actually suggested, this extra clause; and our 
 seance ended.
 
 206 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Some things are too strange not to be true; and I sup- 
 pose this infatuation of Ellaline's, if it exists, is one of 
 them. And it must exist. There can be no doubt of it, 
 since Mrs. Senter has it from the boy who apparently 
 has it from the girl. 
 
 What to make of it, however, that she told me only 
 about ten days ago, she did n't like him ? Yet I am for- 
 getting. We have it on good authority that " 't is best 
 to begin with a little aversion." 
 
 I ought to have known that a daughter of Ellaline de 
 Nesville and Frederic Lethbridge could n't develop into 
 the star-high being this girl has seemed to me; and I 
 must make the best of it that she 's something less in soul 
 than, in my first burst of astonished admiration, I was 
 inclined to appraise her. After all, why feel bitter against 
 people because they have disappointing shortcomings, 
 if not defects, instead of the dazzling virtues that 
 glittered in your imagination? Cream always rises to 
 the top, yet we don't think less of it because there 's 
 nothing but milk underneath. 
 
 Yes, if I find out that she likes this hypnotic cuckoo I 
 must n't despise her for it. But I must find out as soon 
 as I can. Suspense is the one unbearable pain. And 
 you are at liberty to laugh at me as I hope I shall soon be 
 laughing at myself. 
 
 L. P.
 
 XV 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Osborne Hotel, Torquay 
 August 6th 
 
 MA PETITE MINERVE-DE-MERE : A hundred and six 
 and a half thanks for your counsels and consolations. 
 I needed both, and not a bit the less because I 'm not 
 unhappy now I 'm violently happy. It won't last, but 
 I love it this happiness. I keep it sitting on my shoulder 
 and stroking its wings, so it may n't remember when it 's 
 time to fly away. 
 
 That letter I wrote you was silly. I was a regular cry- 
 baby to write it. But I 'm so glad you answered quickly. 
 I don't know how I should have borne it if the man at the 
 Poste Restante window had said: "Nothing for you. 
 miss." I might have responded with blows. 
 
 There was a letter from Ellaline, too. I 'd sent her the 
 " itinerary " as far as I knew it, and Torquay was the last 
 place on the list. I was wondering if anything were the 
 matter, but there is n't though there is news. She 
 waited to write, she says, so that her plans might be 
 decided and she could tell them to me. 
 
 The military manoeuvres go on; and the news has 
 nothing directly to do with the adored Honore. But 
 Ellaline has made a confidante a Scotch girl she has 
 207
 
 208 SETINSILVER 
 
 met. I don't mean she 's told everything ; far from 
 that, apparently. She has kept the fraudulent part, 
 about me, secret, and only confided the romantic 
 part, about herself. What she says she has told is, that 
 she 's run away from cruel persons who want to have all 
 her money, and to prevent her from having any happiness. 
 That she 's hiding till the man she 's engaged to can take 
 her to Scotland and have a Scotch marriage at Gretna 
 Green, if possible, because it would be romantic, and her 
 mother was married there. The Scotch girl, with north- 
 ern coldness of reason, has pointed out that Gretna Green 
 is nowadays like any other place, but Ellaline is not 
 weaned from the idea. She appears to have fascinated 
 her new friend (as she did her old ones), in spite of the 
 northern coldness, and has received a pressing invitation 
 to visit at the girl's house in Scotland until Honore can 
 claim her. 
 
 There is a mother, as well as a girl, but only a step- 
 mother, and apparently a detail; for the girl has the 
 money and the strength of will. The two are stopping 
 in a pension near Madame de Blanchemain's house. 
 The girl is a Miss McNamarra, with freckles and no 
 figure, but engaged to an officer, and consequently 
 sympathetic. She has advised Ellaline that, if she travels 
 from France to Scotland with Honore, on the way to be 
 married, he may n't respect her as much as if she had 
 friends and chaperons, and a nice place to wait for him. 
 Ellaline is too French at heart not to feel that this advice 
 is good though she adds in her letter that she, of course, 
 trusts darling Honore completely; so she has accepted 
 the invitation.
 
 SET IN SILVER 200 
 
 The only trouble is, she wants more money at once. 
 She must let golden louis run through her fingers like 
 water, for I sent her nearly all Sir Lionel handed me 
 before we started on the trip. I shall have to ask him 
 for more, and I '11 hate doing that, because, though I 
 shall be gone out of his life so soon, I 'm too vain and self- 
 conscious (it must be that !) to like making a bad impression 
 on his mind while we 're together. 
 
 I shan't hate it as much, however, as I should, suppos- 
 ing that something which happened last night had n't 
 happened. I 'm coming to that part presently. It 's the 
 thing that 's made me happy the thing that won't 
 last long. 
 
 We left adorable little Sidmouth days ago I almost 
 forget how many, coming as far as Exeter along a lovely 
 road. But then, everything is lovely in Devonshire. 
 It is almost more beautiful than the New Forest, only 
 so different that, thank goodness, it is n't necessary to 
 compare the two kinds of scenery. 
 
 Perhaps Devonshire, stripped of its bold, red rocks, 
 drained of its brilliant blue sea, and despoiled of its dark 
 moors, might be too sugary sweet with its flower-draped 
 cottages, and lanes like green- walled conservatories; but 
 it is so well balanced, with its intimate sweetnesses, 
 and its noble outlines. I think you are rather like 
 Devonshire, you 're so perfect, and you are the most 
 well-balanced person I was ever introduced to 
 except Dad. I 'm proud that his ancestors were Devon- 
 shire men. And oh, the junket and Devonshire cream are 
 even better than he used to tell me! I have n't tasted the 
 cider yet, because I can't bear to miss the cream at any
 
 210 SET IN SILVER 
 
 meal; and the chambermaid at Sidmouth warned me that 
 they "didn't mix." 
 
 Bits of Devonshire are like Italy, I find. Not only is 
 the earth deep red in the meadows, where the farmers 
 have torn open its green coat, and many of the roads a pale 
 rose-pink dust and all but lots of houses and cot- 
 tages are pink, a real Italian pink, so that whole villages 
 blush as you look them in the face. Sometimes, too, 
 there 's a blue or a green, or a golden-octre house; here 
 and there a high, broken wall of rose or faded yellow, 
 with torrential geraniums boiling over the top. And the 
 effect of this riot of colour, in contrast with the silver 
 gray of the velvety thatch, or lichen-jewelled slate 
 roofs, under great, cool trees, is even more beautiful 
 than Italy. If all England is a park, Devonshire is a 
 queen's garden. 
 
 From Sidmouth we went to Budleigh Salterton (why 
 either, but especially both?), quaintly pretty, and rather 
 Holland-like with its miniature bridges and canal. Then 
 to Exmouth, with its flowering "front," its tiny "Maison 
 Carree" (which would remind one more of Nimes if it 
 had no bay windows), and its exquisite view across silver 
 river, and purple hills that ripple away into faint lilac 
 shadows in the distance. Then we struck inland, to 
 Exeter, and at Exeter we stopped two days, in the very 
 oldest and queerest but nicest hotel imaginable. 
 
 I was n't so very happy there, because the Thing I 'm 
 going to tell you about in good time had n't happened yet. 
 But I 'm not sure that I was n't more in tune with Exeter 
 than if I had been as happy as I am now. The scenery 
 liere suits my joyous mood; and_the grave tranquillity of
 
 SET IN SILVER 211 
 
 the beautiful old cathedral town calmed my spirit when 
 I needed calm. 
 
 I 've given up expecting to love any other cathedral 
 as I loved Winchester. Chichester I 've half forgotten 
 already except some of the tombs. Salisbury was far 
 more beautiful, far more impressive in its proportions than 
 Winchester, yet to me not so impressive in other ways; 
 and Exeter Cathedral struck me at first sight as curiously 
 low, almost squat. But as soon as I lived down the first 
 surprise of that effect I began to love it. The stone of 
 which the Cathedral is built may be cold and gray; but 
 time and carvings have made it solemn, not depress- 
 ing. I stood a long time looking up at the west front, 
 not saying a word; but something in me was singing a 
 Te Deum. And how you would love the windows! 
 You used always to say, when we were in Italy and France, 
 that it was beautiful windows which made you love a 
 cathedral or church, as beautiful eyes make one love 
 a face. 
 
 This Cathedral has unforgettable eyes, and a tre- 
 mendously long history, beginning as far back as nine hun- 
 dred and something, when Athelstan came to Exeter and 
 drove out the poor British who thought it was theirs. 
 He built towns, founded a monastery in honour of Saint 
 Mary and Saint Peter, not having time, I suppose, to do 
 one for each. And afterward the monastery decided 
 that it would be a cathedral instead. But two hundred 
 and more years earlier, that disagreeable St. Boniface, 
 who disliked the Celts so much, went to a Saxon school 
 in Exeter! I wonder what going to school was like when 
 all the world was young ?
 
 212 SET IN SILVER 
 
 I wandered into the Cathedral both mornings to hear 
 the music; and something about the dim, moonlit look 
 of the interior made me feel good. You will say 
 that's rather a change for me, perhaps, because you tell 
 me reproachfully, sometimes, after I 've thought about the 
 people's hats and the backs of their blouses in church, 
 that I have only a bowing acquaintance with religion. 
 I don't know whether I may n't be doing the most dread- 
 ful wrong every minute by pretending to be Ellaline; 
 but it was begun for a good purpose, as you know, and 
 you yourself consented. And though I have twinges 
 sometimes, I did feel good at Exeter. Oh, it did me heaps 
 of good to feel good ! You have to live up to your feelings, 
 if you feel like that. And I prayed in the Cathedral. I 
 prayed to be happy. Is that a wrong note for a prayer ? 
 I don't believe it is, if it rings true. Anyway, it makes me 
 feel young and strong to pray, like Achilles, after he 'd 
 rolled on the earth. And I do feel so young and strong 
 just now, dear! I have to sing in my bath, and when I 
 look out of the window also sometimes when I look in 
 the glass, for it seems to me that I am growing brighter and 
 prettier. 
 
 I love to be pretty, because it 's such a beautiful world, 
 and to be pretty is to be in the harmony of it. Though, 
 perhaps only perhaps, mind ! I 'm glad I 'm not a 
 regular beauty. It would be such a responsibility in the 
 matter of wearing one 's clothes, and doing one's hair, and 
 never getting tanned or chapped. 
 
 And I love to be thin, and alive alive, with my soul 
 in proportion to my body, like a hand in a glove, not like 
 a seed in a big apple. But is n't this funny talk, in the
 
 SETINSILVER 213 
 
 midst of describing Exeter ? It 's because of the reaction 
 from misery to ecstasy that I 'm so bubbly. ~ I can't stop; 
 but luckily it did n't come on in Exeter, because the delight- 
 ful, queer old streets are n't at all suitable to bubble in. 
 It 's impertinent to be excessively young there, especially 
 in the beautiful cathedral close, where it is so calm and 
 dignified, and the rooks, who are very, very old, do 
 nothing but caw about their ancestors. I think some 
 curates ought to turn into rooks when they die. They 
 would be quite happy. 
 
 Our hotel, as I said, was fascinating, though Mrs. 
 Norton fell once or twice, as there were steps up and down 
 everywhere, and Dick bumped his forehead on a door. 
 (I wasn't at all sorry for him.) Mrs. Senter said, if 
 we 'd stopped long she would have got " cottage walk, " 
 and as she already had motor-car face and bridge eye, 
 she thought the combination would be trop fort. If she 
 were n't Dick's aunt, and if she were n't so determined 
 to flirt with Sir Lionel without his knowing what she 's 
 at, and if she did n't make little cutting speeches to me 
 when he is n't listening, I think I should find her amusing. 
 
 The only things I did n't like at the hotel were the eggs; 
 which looked so nice, quite brown, and dated the morning 
 you had them, on their shells, but tasting mediaeval. I 
 wonder if eggs can be post-dated, like cheques? As for 
 the other eatables, there was very little taste in them, 
 mediaeval or otherwise. I do think ice-cream, for instance, 
 ought to taste like something, if it 's only hair oil. And 
 the head waiter had such mournful-looking hair! 
 
 I never got a talk alone with Sir Lionel in Exeter, because 
 though he tried once or twice, with the air of having a
 
 214 SET IN SILVER 
 
 painful duty to accomplish, I was afraid he was going to 
 ask me about Dick, and I just felt I could n't bear it, so 
 avoided him, or instantly tacked myself on to Emily or 
 someone. I think Emily approves of my running to her, 
 whenever threatened by man's society, because she thinks 
 the instinctive desire to be protected from anything male is 
 pretty and maidenly. She certainly belongs to the Stone 
 Age in some of her ideas; though her maxims are of a 
 later period. Many of them she draws (and quarters) 
 from the Scriptures; at least, she attributes them to the 
 Scriptures, but I know some of them to be in Shakespeare. 
 Lots of people seem to make that mistake! 
 
 Of course, in the car I never talk to Sir Lionel, except 
 a word flung over shoulders now and then, for Mrs. Senter 
 sits by him. She asked to. Did I tell you that before ? 
 So the day we left Exeter things were just the same 
 between us; not trustful and silently happy, as at the time 
 of the ring, but rather strained, and vaguely official. 
 
 It had rained a little in Exeter, but the sky and land- 
 scape were clean-washed and sparkling as we sailed over 
 the pink road, past charming little Starcross, with its 
 big swan-boat and baby swan-boat ; past Dawlish of the 
 crimson cliffs and deep, deep blue sea (if I were a Bluer 
 just as good a word as Brewer ! I would buy Dawlish 
 as an advertisement for my blue. It seems made for that 
 by Nature, and is so brilliant you 'd never believe it was 
 true, on a poster); down a toboggan slide of a hill into 
 Teignmouth, another garden-town by the sea, and through 
 one of England's many Newtons Newton Abbot, this 
 time to Torquay. 
 
 As we had n't left Exeter until after luncheon, it was
 
 SETINSILVER 215 
 
 evening when we arrived; but that, Sir Lionel said, was 
 what he wanted, on account of the lights in and on and 
 above the water, which he wanted us to see as we came 
 to the town. He has been here before, long ago, as he 
 has been at most of the places; but he says that he 
 enjoys and appreciates everything more now than he 
 did the first time. 
 
 It was like a dream ! a dream all the way from 
 Newton Abbot, where sunset began to turn the silver 
 streak of river in the valley red as wine. There was just 
 one ugly interval : the long, dull street by which we entered 
 Torquay, with its tearing trams and common shops; but 
 out of it we came suddenly into a scene of enchantment. 
 That really isn't too enthusiastic a description, for in 
 front of us lay the harbour; the water violet, flecked with 
 gold, the sky blazing still, coral-red to the zenith, where 
 the moon drenched the fire with a silver flood. The 
 hills were deeper violet than the sea, sparkling with lights 
 that sprang out of the twilight; and on the smooth water a 
 hundred little white boats danced over their own reflections. 
 
 We begged Sir Lionel not to let Young Nick light our 
 lamps, for they are so fierce and powerful, they swallow 
 up the beauty of the evening. But I do think, where 
 there are lots of motors about, it would be nice if people 
 had to be lighted at night, and especially dogs. 
 
 Now, at last, I have come to the Thing the thing that 
 makes me happy, with a happiness all the more vivid 
 because it can't last. But even if I fall to the depths of 
 misery once more, I shan't be a coward, and moan to you. 
 It must be horrid to get letter after letter, full of wails! 
 I don't see how Mademoiselle Julie de Lespinasse could
 
 216 SET IN SILVER 
 
 write the letters she did; and I can't much blame 
 Monsieur de Guibert for dreading to read them, always 
 in the same key, and on the same note: "I suffer, I 
 suffer. I want to die." 
 
 Well, I 've kept you waiting long enough, or have 
 you, perhaps, read ahead? I should, in your place, 
 though I hope you have n't. 
 
 We came to the Osborne because Sir Lionel knew and 
 liked it, though there 's another hotel grander, and we 
 usually go to the grandest (so odd, that feels, after our 
 travels, yours and mine, when our first thought was to 
 search out the cheapest place in any town!), and the 
 Osborne has a terraced garden, which runs down and 
 down the cliffs, toward the sea, with a most alluring view. 
 
 Mrs. Senter had luggage come to meet her here, 
 and she appeared at dinner in our private sitting-room 
 looking quite startlingly handsome, in a black chiffon 
 dress embroidered in pale gold, exactly the colour of her 
 hair. The weather had turned rather cold, however, 
 since the rain at Exeter, so, gorgeous as the moonlight 
 was, she wanted to stop indoors after dinner, and proposed 
 bridge, as usual. 
 
 That was the signal for me to slip away. I 'd finished 
 "Lorna Doone," which is the loveliest love story in the 
 English language (except part of " Richard Feverel "), so 
 I thought I would go into the garden. I felt moderately 
 secure from Dick, because, even if he really is in love 
 with me, he is as much in love with bridge, and besides, 
 he 's afraid of his aunt, for some reason or other. As 
 for Sir Lionel, it did n't occur to me that he might even 
 want to come.
 
 SET IN SILVER 217 
 
 I strolled about at first, not far from the hotel. Then 
 I was tempted farther and farther down the cliff path, 
 until I found a thatched summer-house, where I sat and 
 thought what a splendid, ornamental world it would be 
 to live in if one were quite happy. 
 
 By this time the sky and sea were bathed in moon- 
 light, the stone pines so like Italian pines black 
 against a silver haze. In the dark water the path 
 of the moon lay, very broad and long, all made of 
 great flakes of thick, deep gold, as if the sea were paved 
 with golden scales. 
 
 It was so lovely it saddened me, but I did n't want to 
 go indoors; and presently I heard footsteps on the path. 
 I was afraid it was Dick, after all, as he is horribly clever 
 about finding out where one has gone so detectivey 
 of him ! but in another second I smelt Sir Lionel's 
 kind of cigarette smoke. It would make me think of 
 him if it were a hundred years from now! Still, Dick 
 borrows his cigarettes often, as he says they 're too expen- 
 sive to buy, so I wasn't safe. Indeed, which ever it 
 turned out to be, I was n't safe, because one might be 
 silly, and the other might scold. 
 
 But it was Sir Lionel, and he saw me, although I made 
 myself little and stood in the shadow, not daring to sit 
 down again, because the seat squeaked. 
 
 "Are n't you cold ?" he asked. 
 
 I answered that I was quite warm. 
 
 Then he said that it was a nice night, and we talked 
 about the weather, and all that idiotic sort of thing, 
 which means empty brains or hearts too full. 
 
 By and by, when I was beginning to feel as though I
 
 218 SET IN SILVER 
 
 should scream if it went on much longer, he stopped 
 suddenly, in a conversation about fresh fish, and said: 
 " Ellaline, I think I must speak of something that 's been 
 on my mind for some days." 
 
 He'd never called me "Ellaline" before, but only 
 "you," and this gave me rather a start, to begin with, 
 so I said nothing. And, as it turned out, that was 
 probably the best thing I could have done. If I 'd 
 said anything, it would have been the wrong thing, and 
 then, perhaps, we should have started off with a 
 misunderstanding. 
 
 "I should hate to have you think me unsympathetic," 
 he went on. " I 'm not. But do you want to marry 
 Dick Burden, some day?" 
 
 If he 'd put it differently I might have hesitated what 
 to answer, for I am afraid of Dick, there 's no use deny- 
 ing it of course, mostly on Ellaline's account, but a 
 little on my own too, because I 'm a coward, and don't 
 want to be disgraced. As it was, I could n't hesitate, for 
 the thought of marrying Dick Burden would have been 
 insupportable if it had n't been ridiculous. So you see, 
 I forgot to dread what Dick might do if he heard, and 
 just blurted out the truth. 
 
 " I 'd sooner go into a convent," said I. 
 
 "You mean that?" Sir Lionel pinned me down. 
 
 " I do," I repeated. " Could you imagine a girl want- 
 ing to marry Dick Burden ?" 
 
 " No, I could n't," said Sir Lionel. And then he 
 laughed such a nice, happy laugh, like a boy's, quite 
 different from the way I have heard him laugh lately 
 though at first, in London, he seemed young and light-
 
 SET IN SILVER 219 
 
 hearted. " But I 'm no judge of the men or boys a 
 girl might want to marry. Dick 's good-looking, or 
 near it." 
 
 "Yes," I admitted. "So is your little chauffeur. 
 But I don't want to marry it." 
 
 " Are you flirting with Dick, then ?" Sir Lionel asked, 
 not sharply, but almost wistfully. 
 
 I could n't stand that. I had to tell the truth, no matter 
 for to-morrow! 
 
 " I 'm not flirting with him, either," I said. 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " But he seems to think there is something some- 
 thing to hope." 
 
 "Did he tell you so?" 
 
 " No. He sent me word." 
 
 "Oh! Words get mixed, when they're sent. He 
 knows I 'm not flirting with him." 
 
 " Does he know forgive me does he know that 
 you don't love him a little ?" 
 
 "He knows I don't love him at all." 
 
 *' Then I can't understand," said Sir Lionel. 
 
 " Would you like me to love him ?" I could n't help 
 asking. 
 
 "No," he began, and stopped. "I should like you 
 to be happy, in your own way," he went on more slowly. 
 "I 've been at a loss, because a little while ago you said 
 you did n't like Burden, and then you seemed to change 
 your mind " 
 
 "It was only seeming," I continued on my reckless 
 course. "My mind toward him stands where it did."
 
 220 SET IN SILVER 
 
 " If that is so, what have you done to him, to give him 
 hope?" 
 
 '* Nothing I could help," I said. 
 
 "There's a strange misunderstanding somewhere, 
 apparently," Sir Lionel reflected aloud. 
 
 "Oh, don't let there be one between us!" I begged, 
 looking up at him suddenly. 
 
 He put his hand out as suddenly, and grabbed 
 literally grabbed mine. I was so happy! Isn't it 
 nice that men are so much stronger than women, and that 
 we 're meant to like them to be ? It can make life so 
 interesting. 
 
 As his fingers pressed mine, I let mine press his too, and 
 felt we were friends. "By Jove, no, we won't," he said. 
 And though it was n't much to say, nothing could have 
 pleased me better. The words and the tone seemed 
 to match the close clasp of our hands. 
 
 "Would you be willing to trust me?" I asked. 
 
 " Of course. But in what way do you mean ?" 
 
 "About Dick Burden. He does n't think I 'm flirting, 
 and he does n't think I care for him. Yet I want you to 
 trust me, and not say anything to him or to his aunt. 
 Let Dick and me fight it out between us." 
 
 He laughed again. " With all my heart, if you want to 
 fight. But I won't have you annoyed. If he annoys 
 you he must go. I will get rid of him." 
 
 " Dick can't annoy me if he does n't make trouble for 
 me with you, Sir Lionel," I said. (And that was the 
 truth.) "Only, if you '11 just trust me to manage him ?" 
 
 " You 're very young to undertake the management of
 
 SET IN SILVER 221 
 
 " Dick is n't a man. He 's a boy." 
 
 " And you are a child." 
 
 "I may seem a child to you," I said, "but I 'm not. 
 I '11 be so happy, and I '11 thank you so much, if you '11 
 just let things go on as they are for a little while. You '11 
 be glad afterward if you do." 
 
 And he will, when I 've gone and Ellaline has 
 come. He will be glad he did n't give himself too 
 much trouble on my account. But I 'm not going 
 to think now of what his opinion of me may be 
 then. At present he has a very good, kind opinion. 
 Even though I am a child in his eyes, I am a dear 
 child; and though it can't last, it does make me happy 
 to be dear to him, in any way at all this terrible 
 Dragon of Ellaline's. 
 
 But that is n't the end of our conversation. The real 
 end was an anti-climax, perhaps, but I liked it. For that 
 matter, the tail of a comet's an anti-climax. 
 
 It was only that, when we 'd talked on, and he 'd prom- 
 ised to trust me, and leave the reins in my hands, while he 
 attended solely to the steering of his motor-car, I said: 
 "Now we must go in. Mrs. Senter will be wanting to 
 finish her rubber." (I forgot to tell you that he explained 
 she 'd had a telegram, and had been obliged to hurry and 
 write a letter, to catch the last post. That had stopped 
 a game in the middle.) 
 
 "Oh, hang it all, I suppose she will!" he grumbled, 
 more to himself than to me, because, if he 'd paused to 
 think, he would have been too polite to express himself so 
 about a guest, whatever his feelings were. But that 's 
 why I was pleased. He spoke impulsively, without
 
 222 SET IN SILVER 
 
 thinking. Was n't it a triumph, that he would rather 
 have stayed there in the garden, even with a " child," than 
 hurry back to that radiant white-and-gold (and black) 
 vision ? 
 
 Now you know why I am so pleased with life. 
 
 All that happened last night, and to-day we have had 
 " excursions," but no " alarums." We (every one, not just 
 he and I) have been to Kent's Cavern, where prehistoric 
 tigers' teeth grinned at us from the walls, and have taken 
 a walk to Babbicombe Bay, where we had tea. I think it 
 was the loveliest path I ever saw, that cliff way, with the 
 gray rocks, and the blue sea into which the sky had 
 emptied itself, like a cup with a silver rim. And the wild 
 flowers the little, dainty, pink-tipped daisies, which 
 I could n't bear to crush and the larks that sprang out 
 of the grass! There are things that make you feel so at 
 home in England, dear. I think it is like no other country 
 for that. 
 
 To-morrow we are to motor to Princetown, on Dart- 
 moor Eden Phillpotts, land and are coming back to 
 Torquay at night. If I have time I '11 write you a special 
 Dartmoor letter, for I have an idea that I shall find the 
 moor wonderfully impressive. But we may n't get back 
 till late; and the day after we are to start early in the morn- 
 ing for Sir Lionel's county, Cornwall. Afterward we 
 shall come back into another part of Devonshire, and see 
 Bideford and Exmoor. That 's why I 've been able to 
 forget some of my worries in " Westward Ho ! " and " Lorna 
 Doone" lately. But Sir Lionel can't wait longer for 
 Cornwall, and, so day-after-to-morrow night my eyes shall 
 look upon only think of it " dark Tintagel by the
 
 SET IN SILVER 223 
 
 Cornish sea." That is, we shall see it, Apollo per- 
 mitting, for motors and men gang aft aglee. 
 
 This isn't apropos of Apollo's usual behaviour, but 
 of the stories we 've been told concerning Dartmoor roads. 
 They say well, there 's nothing to worry about with 
 Sir Lionel at the helm; but I should n't wonder if to- 
 morrow will be an adventure. 
 
 There, now, I 'm sorry I said that. You may be 
 anxious; but I can't scratch it out, and it 's nearly at the 
 bottom of such a big sheet. So I '11 wire to-morrow night, 
 when we get back, and you '11 have the telegram before 
 you have this letter. 
 
 Your how-to-be-happy-though-undeserving, 
 
 But ever loving, 
 
 AUDRIE.
 
 XVI 
 
 ATJDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Still Torquay, Ten Thirty 
 August 1th 
 
 DEAREST: I thought the moor would be impressive. It 
 is overwhelming. Oh, this Devonshire of my father's 
 people is far from being all a land of cream and roses ! 
 
 Dartmoor has given me so many emotions that I am 
 tired, but I must tell you about it and them. When I 
 shut my eyes, I see tors, like ruined watch-towers, against 
 the sky. And I see Princetown, grim and terrible. 
 
 No country can look its best on a map, no matter what 
 colour be chosen to express it; but I did like Dartmoor's 
 rich brown, which set it apart from the green parts of 
 Devonshire. It took some time, though, even in a motor, 
 to come to the brown; for our road was fairy -like as far 
 as Holne, Charles Kingsley's birthplace. We got out 
 there, of course, and looked at his memorial window in 
 the charming village church. At Holne Bridge I thought 
 of the beautiful way to the Grande Chartreuse; so you can 
 imagine it was far from sterile, although we were on the 
 fringe of the moor. And ah, what a lovely green fringe 
 the brown moor wears ! It is all trimmed round the edge 
 with woods, and glens, where the baby River Dart goes 
 laughing by. And there 's a most romantic Lover's 
 224
 
 SETINSILVER 225 
 
 Leap, of course. Strange how so many lovers, though of 
 different countries, have all that same wild desire to jump 
 off something ! If I were a lover I should much rather die 
 a flat, neat death. 
 
 We saw this Lover's Leap only at a distance when going 
 toward the moor, but coming back however, I will tell 
 you about it afterward, when I come to Buckland Chase, 
 on the way home. 
 
 It was at Holne that the big hills, of which we 'd been 
 warned, began ; but Apollo merely sniffs at gradients that 
 make smaller, meaner motors grunt with rage. We had 
 a car behind us (which had started ahead), but it was 
 rather an ominous sign to see no "pneu" tracks in the 
 white dust of the road as we travelled. Other days, 
 we have always had them to follow; and it makes a motor 
 feel at home to know that his brethren have come and 
 gone that way. This must have seemed to Apollo like 
 isolation; and as if to emphasize the sensation which we 
 all shared, suddenly we began to smell the moor. 
 
 I can't describe to you exactly what that smell was like, 
 but we knew it was the moor. The air became alive and 
 life-giving. It tingled with a cold breath of the north, and 
 one thought of granite with the sun on it, and broom in 
 blossom, and coarse grass such as mountain -sheep love, 
 though one saw none of those things yet. The scenery 
 was still gentle and friendly, and the baby Dart was sing- 
 ing at the top of its voice. Really, it was almost a tune. 
 I felt, as I listened, that it would be easy to set it to music. 
 The moss-covered stones round which purled the clear 
 water looked like the whole notes and half notes, all ready 
 to be pushed into place, so that the tune might "arrange
 
 226 SET IN SILVER 
 
 itself." And the amber brown of the stream was mottled 
 with gold under the surface, as if a sack full of sovereigns 
 had been emptied into the river. 
 
 The first tor on our horizon was Sharp Tor, which the 
 Dart evidently feared. The poor little river disappeared 
 at sight of it, hurrying away from its frown, and as the 
 stream vanished all the dainty charm of the landscape 
 fled, too. We saw the moor towering toward us, stern 
 and barren, with that great watch-tower of Nature's 
 pinning it to the sky. 
 
 Moorland ponies raced to and fro, mad with the joy of 
 some game they were playing, and they were not afraid of 
 us. I should think the live things of the moor were afraid 
 of nothing that could come to them out of the world beyond, 
 for that pungent air breathes "courage," and the gray 
 granite, breaking through the poor coat of grass, dares 
 the eyes that look at it not to be brave. 
 
 Near the moorland ponies on Holne Moor we 
 came to the strangest reservoir you could dream of. It was 
 vast, and blue as a block fallen out of the sky; and once, 
 Sir Lionel said, it 'had been a lake, though now it gives 
 water to the prison town. An old road used to run 
 through it; and to this day you can see the bridge under 
 water. The story is that strange forms cross that bridge 
 at night. I 'm sure it 's true, for anything could happen 
 on the moor, and of course it swarms with pixies. You 
 believe that, don't you? Well, anyway, you would if 
 you saw the moor. 
 
 The next tor was nameless for us, but it was even finer 
 than Sharp Tor. After seeing Stonehenge I felt so certain 
 it must be Druidical that it was disappointing to hear it
 
 SET IN SILVER 227 
 
 wasn't that all such theories about the tors had 
 "exploded." Afterward there were lots of tors; and 
 there were tin mines, too, not far from our wild, desolate 
 road tin mines that have always been worked, they say, 
 since the days of the Phoenicians. I should have been 
 more interested in thinking about them, however, if we 
 had n't just then begun gliding down a hill which, from 
 the top, looked as if it might go straight through to China. 
 My toes felt as if they 'd been done up in curl-papers for 
 years. But there was a savage joy in the creepiness of it, 
 and Apollo "chunk-chunked" sturdily down, in a nice, 
 dependable way, toward a lonely village, which I felt sure 
 was entirely populated by Eden Phillpotts people. He, 
 and the other authors who write about the moor, invari- 
 ably make their leading characters have "primitive pas- 
 sions," so I thought perhaps the faces of the moor folk 
 would be wilder and stranger, and have more meaning 
 than other civilized faces. But all those I saw looked just 
 like everybody else, and I was so disappointed! They 
 even dropped their "h's"; and once, when we stopped a 
 moment at a place where Sir Lionel was n't sure of the way, 
 I asked a boy on a rough pony the names of some trees 
 we had passed. "H'ash and green h'elm, miss," said he. 
 It was a blow! 
 
 Toward eleven, the sun had drunk up the cold mist, 
 and the moor basked in heat. We were in an empty 
 world, save for a cottage now and then, and a Cyclopean 
 wall of stones loosely piled one upon another. Yet this 
 was the main road from Ashburton to Princetown! 
 Apollo glided along a desolate white way between creamy 
 and silver grasses artistically intermingled, and burning,
 
 228 SET IN SILVER 
 
 golden gorse, which caught the sun. The splendid, dig- 
 nified loneliness of the moor was like the retreat chosen by 
 a hermit god ! There may be only twenty square miles of 
 moor, but it feels like a hundred. 
 
 Hexworthy and the Forest Inn, which we came to in a 
 valley, were curiously Swiss, all but the ancient cross 
 which made me think of Eden Phillpotts's "American 
 Prisoner." How can I say an" ancient" cross, though, when 
 the really old things on the moor began not only before 
 Christ, but before history the stone circles, the cairns 
 and the cromlechs, the kistvaen and the barrows! The 
 hut circles, where a forgotten people used to live, are 
 strewn in thousands over the moor, and cooking utensils 
 are sometimes dug up, even now; so you see, everything 
 is n't discovered yet. The people had n't any metal to 
 work with, poor creatures, until the Bronze Age, and they 
 clothed themselves in skins, which I suppose their dress- 
 makers and tailors made when the sheep and cows that 
 wore them first had been cut up and eaten. I wonder if 
 girls were pretty in those days, or men handsome, and if 
 anyone cared ? But I suppose knowing the difference 
 between ugliness and beauty is as old as Adam and Eve. 
 If Eve had n't been pretty, Adam would n't have looked 
 at her, but would have waited in the hope of something 
 better. 
 
 The first sight of Princetown only intensified the loneli- 
 ness of the moor, somehow, partly because it loomed so 
 gray and grim, partly, perhaps, because we knew it to be 
 a prison town. The dark buildings looked as much a 
 natural growth of the moor as those ruined temples on the 
 horizon, which were tors. It was almost impossible to
 
 SET IN SILVER 229 
 
 believe that Plymouth was only fifteen miles away. And 
 the sombreness and gloom of the melancholy place 
 increased instead of diminished as we drew nearer to it, 
 after leaving behind us the pleasant oasis of Tor Bridge 
 and its little hotel that anglers and walkers love. 
 
 The prison settlement was stuck like a black vice-spot 
 in the midst of wide purity. Gloom hung over it in a pall, 
 and stole the warmth from the sunshine. What a town 
 to name after a Prince Regent! and what a town to have 
 lunch in! Yet it was a singularly good lunch. 
 
 We ate it in a hotel built of gray stone, with gray stone 
 colonnades, which looked like an annex to the prison. 
 There was meat pie, which one expected to find smoking 
 hot, and it gave quite a shock to find it not only cold, but 
 iced. There was a big, cool dining-room, all mysteiious, 
 creeping shadows, and queer echoes when one dared to 
 speak. And unless one did speak the silence sent a chill 
 through one's body, but it was an interesting chill. Cer- 
 tainly the hotel was the strangest I ever saw; and the hotel 
 dog was like no other animal on land or sea. He appeared 
 to be a mixture of brindled bull and Irish terrier, with long 
 side-whiskers on a bull-dog face. He was a nightmare, 
 but he loved Devonshire cream and junket, and ate them 
 as if he were a lamb. 
 
 We stayed a long time in Princetown, and then started 
 to go home by a different way. Out of a vast moorland 
 tract we descended to Dartmoor Bridge, the prettiest oasis 
 in the wild desert of moor which we had seen yet. But 
 soon we were back in moorland again, with tors rising up 
 to snatch at heaven with their dark claws. Each one 
 seemed different from all the rest, just as people's faces are
 
 230 SET IN SILVER 
 
 different in crowds. Some were like crests of waves, 
 petrified as they were ready to break; but the weirdest of 
 all were exactly like ruined forts of dwarfs. And presently 
 the scenery changed again in a kaleidoscopic way. We 
 came to lovely Houndsgate, with a great, deep wonder- 
 valley far below us, only to return to a region of tors and 
 bracken, and to plunge down the most tremendous hill of 
 all a hill which was like gliding down the glassy side of 
 an ocean wave. 
 
 I had just exclaimed, "See, there 's a motor ahead of 
 us!" when an extraordinary thing happened. The car 
 going before us, very fast, suddenly ran to the side of 
 the steep road, stopped, some people jumped out, and at 
 the same instant a great flame spouted straight up toward 
 the sky. 
 
 Not one of us said one word, except Emily, who 
 squeaked, and cried, "Oh, Lionel! we shall all be killed 
 and burned up!" 
 
 Of course, Sir Lionel did n't answer. I would have 
 given anything to be in Mrs. Senter's place, sitting beside 
 him, so that I could see his face, and guess what he meant 
 to do. But it was decided and done in a few seconds. 
 He took Apollo on a little farther, and then stopped as 
 near the burning motor as he dared, so that there might 
 be no danger of our catching fire. Before we could have 
 counted "one, two," he had sprung from the car and was 
 running toward the fiery chariot, with Young Nick flying 
 after him. Dick Burden got down, too, and sauntered in 
 their wake, but he did n't go very fast. 
 
 It was so exciting and confusing that I scarcely under- 
 stood at first what was happening, but Sir Lionel tore off
 
 SET IN SILVER 231 
 
 his coat as he ran, and flung it round the woman from the 
 other car. She had not been on fire when she jumped out, 
 but the grass and bushes close by the road had already 
 begun to blaze, and her dress had caught in the flame. 
 She was tall and big, but Sir Lionel lifted her up as if she 'd 
 been a child, and, wrapped in his coat, laid her down at 
 a little distance on the grass, where he rolled her over, and 
 put out the fire. Then, when she was on her feet again, 
 panting and sobbing a little, he and the other men began 
 stamping out the flames playing among the low bushes, 
 lest they spread along the moor. As for the car, Sir 
 Lionel said afterward it was hopeless trying to save her, 
 as there were gallons and gallons of petrol to burn (it 
 was her brakes that had got on fire, and ignited the rest), 
 and no sand or anything of that sort to throw on. But 
 while we were staring at the strange scene, the flames died 
 down, having drunk up all the petrol; and whether some 
 part of the mechanism which held the red-hot brakes in 
 place gave way suddenly, I don't know. All I do know is, 
 that the car quivered, moved forward, began running down 
 the tremendous hill, faster and faster, until, with a wild 
 bound, she disappeared from our sight over a precipice. 
 By this time we were all out, except Emily, hurrying 
 down the hill, to talk to the people who had lost their car ; 
 but would you believe it, they hardly cared for their loss, 
 now they were out of danger ? It was a bride and groom, 
 with their chauffeur, and they were Americans, staying 
 at the Imperial, in Torquay. The bridegroom was 
 elderly but humorous, and told us he used to hate motors 
 and kept tortoises for pets, because he liked everything that 
 moved slowly, all his ancestors having come from Phila-
 
 232 SET IN SILVER 
 
 delphia. But the girl he loved would n't marry him unless 
 he promised to take her to England on an automobile trip. 
 Now he hoped she had had enough, and would let him go 
 back to tortoises again. 
 
 He said he had never enjoyed anything so much as seeing 
 the car's red-hot skeleton jump over the precipice, where it 
 could not hurt anyone, but would just fall quietly to pieces 
 on the rocks. 
 
 The bride was great fun, too, and as she comes from 
 St. Louis, it is not likely she will cultivate tortoises. When 
 we took them all three back to Torquay with us, squashed 
 in anyhow, she talked about running over to Paris and 
 buying a balloon or an aeroplane! We came by way of 
 the Buckland Chase, as it is called private property; 
 and an elfin glen of beauty, for mile after mile, with the 
 Dart singing below, and the Lover's Leap so close that it 
 seemed painfully realistic especially after the adventure 
 of the car which leaped into space. 
 
 Sir Lionel got his coat burnt, and his hands a little, too; 
 but he would drive, though Young Nick might have done 
 so as well as not. 
 
 After all we shan't get to Cornwall to-morrow! Sir 
 Lionel says it would be a crime to leave this part of the 
 world without going up the Dart (the " Rhine of England") 
 in a boat, and seeing the beautiful old Butter Market at 
 Dartmouth. 
 
 I shall send you postcards from there, if I have the 
 chance, for it 's very historic. It will be Cornwall the day 
 after, but I shall have to wire my next address. 
 With all the love of 
 
 YOUR MOORLAND PRINCESS.
 
 SETINSILVER 233 
 
 P. S. You ought to have seen Emily and Mrs. Senter 
 fussing over Sir Lionel when he burnt his hands ! He hates 
 being fussed over, and was almost cross, until our eyes 
 happened to meet, and then we both smiled. That 
 seemed to make him good-natured again. And he is 
 wonderfully patient with his sister, really.
 
 XVII 
 
 MRS. SENTER TO HER SISTER, MRS. BURDEN, AT 
 GLEN LACHLAN, N. B. 
 
 White Hart Hotel, Launceston, Cornwall 
 Aug. 10th 
 
 MY DEAR Sis : It came off all right. My things usually 
 do, don't they? "With some women, it is only their lip- 
 salve and face powder that come off. With me, it is plans. 
 Luckily I inherited mamma's genius -for high diplomacy, 
 while you, alas, only came in for her rheumatism. And 
 by the way, how are your poor dear bones ? Not devilled, 
 I hope ? Do forgive the cheap wit. I am obliged to save 
 my best things for Sir Lionel . He appreciates them highly, 
 which is one comfort; but it is rather a strain living up to 
 him (though I do think it will pay in the end), and in inter- 
 course with my family I must be allowed to rest my brain. 
 When everything is settled, one way or the other, my 
 features, also, shall have repose. To keep young, every 
 woman ought to go into retirement for at least one month 
 out of the twelve, a fortnight at a time, perhaps, and do 
 nothing but eat and sleep, see nobody, talk to nobody, 
 think of nothing, and especially not smile. If one followed 
 that regime religiously, with or without prayer and fasting, 
 one need never have crow's-feet. 
 
 Of course, with you it is different. You have now 
 
 34
 
 SET IN SILVER 235 
 
 decided to live for Dick, and let your waist measure look 
 after itself; but I have larger aims and fewer years than 
 you, dearest. My conception of self-respecting widow- 
 hood is to be as young as possible, as attractive as possible, 
 as rich as possible, and eventually to read my title clear to 
 (at least) a baronet, and have a castle in a good hunting 
 county. There are difficulties in my upward way, yet I 
 feel strongly I shall overcome them. Let my motto be, 
 " The battle to the smart, and the situation to the pretty.'* 
 Why should n't I triumph on both counts ? The ward, 
 to be sure, is pretty, and is in the situation; but she 
 does n't know her own advantages, and I 'm not sure 
 she would marry Sir Lionel if he asked her; which at 
 present he apparently has no intention of doing, although 
 he admires her more warmly than either Dick or I think 
 advisable in a guardian. 
 
 Since I wrote you last, just before starting on this motor 
 match-making venture of ours, there have been several 
 new developments. I don't know whether you are any 
 deeper in Dick's confidence, in this affair, than I am 
 (though I fancy not), but I scent a mystery. Dick really 
 has detective talent, dear Sis, and if I were you, I 
 should n't oppose his setting up as a sort of art nouveau 
 Sherlock Holmes. Whether he has found out about some 
 schoolgirl peccadillo of Miss Lethbridge's, and is dangling 
 it over her head, Damocles sword fashion, I can't tell, 
 because he won't tell; though he looks offensively wise 
 when I tease him, and I have tried in vain, on my own 
 account, to discover. But certain it is that he is either 
 blackmailing her in a milk-and-water way, or hypnotizing 
 her to obey his orders.
 
 236 SETINS1LVER 
 
 He hinted, you know, that he could get the girl to make 
 Sir Lionel invite us to join the motoring party; but I 
 supposed then that she had a weakness of the heart where 
 my dear nephew was concerned. Now, my opinion is that 
 she dislikes, yet fears him. Not very complimentary to 
 Dick, but he does n't seem to mind, and is enjoying him- 
 self immensely in his own deliciously, impertinently, perky 
 way. Somehow or other he has induced her to be more or 
 less engaged to him, a temporary arrangement, I under- 
 stand, but pleasing to him and convenient to me. What 
 Dick gets out of it, I don't know, and don't enquire; but 
 / get out of it the satisfaction of " shelving " the girl as a 
 possible rival. 
 
 Sir Lionel, who (it 's useless to spare your motherly 
 vanity !) has no very warm appreciation of Dick's qualities, 
 is disgusted with his ward for encouraging D.'s advances, 
 and is inclined to turn to me for sympathy. In that 
 branch I am a great success, and altogether am getting 
 on like a house afire. What if I do have to pump up an 
 intelligent interest in politics in general, and affairs in 
 the Far East in particular? I am fortunately so con- 
 stituted that fifteen minutes' study of the Times, washed 
 down by early tea (taken strong), enables me to discourse 
 brilliantly on the deepest subjects during the day; and, 
 thank goodness, virtue is rewarded in the evening with 
 a little bridge. If I am ever Lady Pendragon (sounds 
 well, does n't it ?) it shall be all bridge and skittles, 
 for me and devil take politics, military science, 
 history, the classics, Herbert Spencer, Robert Brown- 
 ing, Shakespeare, and all other boring or out-of-date 
 things and writers (if he has n't already taken them)
 
 SET IN SILVER 237 
 
 on which I am now obliged to keep up a sort of 
 Maxim-fire of conversation. 
 
 As to Dick's affairs, however, if the girl really is the 
 heiress we thought her, I shall be only too glad to use 
 my influence in every direction at once, to make the tem- 
 porary arrangement a permanent one. But the worst 
 of it is, I 'm not at all sure that she is any sort of an heiress. 
 
 Sir Lionel intimated to me the other night, when I was 
 tactfully tickling him with hints, that she has little 
 except what he may choose to give her. If that be true, I 
 fear as Mrs. Dick her dot will not be large; but it strikes 
 me as very probable that he was only trying to put me off 
 or rather, to put Dick off, if Dick were fortune-hunting. 
 I don't know whether to believe his version or not, there- 
 fore; but I did get at one fact which may help us to find 
 out for ourselves. Dear Ellaline is a daughter of Frederic 
 Lethbridge. It was rather a shock to hear this, for I 
 have a vague impression that there was once a scandal, 
 quite a ripe, juicy scandal, about a Frederic Lethbridge. 
 Can it have been this Frederic Lethbridge, and if so, 
 had it anything to do with money matters ? 
 
 I have n't mentioned my doubts to Dick, because 
 he really is idiotically in love with the girl, and is 
 capable of foolishness. I intend to let him go on as he is 
 going for the present, as he can do himself no harm, and 
 can do me a great deal of good, by keeping his darling out 
 of my way and Sir Lionel's thoughts. But of course, he 
 must n't be allowed to marry her if she has nothing of 
 her own. Sir Lionel is rich, but not rich enough to 
 make his ward rich enough for Dick, and keep plenty for 
 his wife when he gets one if she be anything like me.
 
 238 SETINSILVER 
 
 Your dear hostess, who would by this time be my hos- 
 tess if I were n't otherwise engaged, knows everything 
 and everybody. Not only that, she has done both for 
 a considerable term of years. You remember the joke 
 about her being torn between the desire not to exceed the 
 age of forty-five and yet to boast a friendship with Lord 
 Beaconsfield? Well, she can have known Frederic 
 Lethbridge, and all about him, without being a day over 
 forty, as that is Sir Lionel's age, and Mrs. Lethbridge 
 was a distant relative of his. 
 
 Tell Lady MacRae that. Say that the Frederic 
 Lethbridge you are inquiring about married a Miss de 
 Nesville, and that there is a daughter in existence, a girl 
 of nineteen. If Lady Mac does n't know anything, get 
 her to ask her friends; but do hurry up for Dick's sake, 
 there 's a dear, otherwise I shan't be able to pull the 
 strings as you would like me to; and already my sweet 
 nerves are jangled, out of tune. Dear Lady Mac is so 
 adorably frank, when she has something disagreeable to 
 say, that you '11 have no difficulty in ferreting out the 
 truth if it 's anything nasty. For most reasons I hope 
 it is n't, as a rich girl would be a valuable bird in the 
 hand for Dick; and I am on the spot to see his affairs 
 as well as my own through, whatever happens. 
 
 For my part, if Sir Lionel were n't up to such a f atiguingly 
 high level of intelligence, I believe I could fall in love with 
 him. He may be descended from King Arthur, but he 
 looks more like Lancelot, and I fancy might make love 
 rather nicely, once he let himself go. Although it 's 
 long since he did any soldiering, he shows that he was a 
 soldier, born, not made. He has improved, if anything,
 
 SET IN SILVER 239 
 
 since we knew him in India, but I remember you used to 
 be quite afraid of having to talk to him then, and preferred 
 Colonel O'Hagan, whom you thought jolly and good- 
 natured, though, somehow, I never got on with him very 
 well. I always had the feeling he was trying to read me, 
 and I do dislike that sort of thing in a man. It ruins 
 human intercourse, and takes away all natural desire to 
 flirt. 
 
 You ask me how I endure Emily Norton. Well, as I 
 sit beside Sir Lionel in the car, I don't need to bother 
 with her much in the daytime. She hates bridge, and 
 thinks playing for money wrong in most circumstances, 
 but considers it her duty to please her brother's guests; 
 and as she never wins, anyhow, it need n't affect her con- 
 science. I tell her that I always give my winnings 
 to charity, and did n't think it necessary to add that, to 
 my idea, charity should not only begin at home, but end 
 there, unless its resources were unlimited. The poor, 
 dull thing has that kind of self-conscious religion that 
 sends her soul trotting every other minute to look in the 
 glass, and see that it has n't smudged itself. So trying! 
 Once she asked me what I did for my soul ? I longed 
 to tell her I took cod-liver oil, or Somebody's Fruit Salt, 
 but did n't dare, on account of Sir Lionel. And she has 
 such a conceited way of saying, when speaking of the 
 future: "If the Lord spares me till next year, I will do 
 so and so." As if He were in immediate need of her, but 
 might be induced to get on without her for a short time! 
 
 One would know, by the way she screws up her hair, 
 that she could never have felt a temptation. But I shall 
 not let myself be troubled much with her if I marry Sir
 
 240 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Lionel. She can go back to her doctor and her curates, 
 and be invited for Christmas to Gray lees, which, by the 
 way, I hope to inspect when we have finished this tour. 
 
 I am looking quite lovely in my motoring things, and 
 enjoying myself very much, on the whole. 
 
 Devonshire I found too hot for this time of the year, 
 but the scenery is pretty. I had no idea what a jolly 
 little river the Dart is; and Dartmouth is rather quaint. 
 For those who are keen on old things, I suppose the 
 Butter Market would be interesting; but I can't really 
 see why, because things happened in certain places hun- 
 dreds of years ago, one should stand and stare at walls 
 or windows, or fireplaces. The things must have 
 happened somewhere! Although Charles the Second, 
 for instance, may have been great fun to know, and 
 one would have enjoyed flirting with him, now that 
 he 's been dead and out of reach for ages, he 's of no 
 importance to me. 
 
 We left Torquay yesterday, and arrived here in the 
 evening, after a hilly but nice run, and lunching at Ply- 
 mouth. Of course, a lot of nonsense was talked about 
 Sir Francis Drake. One almost forgets what the old boy 
 did, except to play bowls or something; but I have a way 
 of seeming to know things, for which I deserve more credit 
 than anyone (save you) would guess. When they were 
 not jabbering about him at lunch, it was about the May- 
 flower, which apparently sailed from Plymouth for the 
 purpose of supplying Americans with ancestors. I never 
 met any Americans yet, except the kind who boast of 
 having begun as shoeblacks, whose great-great-grand- 
 parents did n't cross in the Mayflower. It must have been
 
 SET IN SILVER 241 
 
 a huge ship, or else a lot of the ancestors went in the 
 steerage, or were stewards or stowaways. 
 
 There was a ferry, getting from Devonshire into Corn- 
 wall, so of course we just missed a boat and had to wait 
 half an hour. I was dying to go to sleep, but the others 
 were as chirpy as possible, gabbling Cornish legends. 
 When I say the "others," I mean Sir Lionel and Ellaline 
 Lethbridge. I did n't know any legends, but I made up 
 several on the spur of the moment, much more exciting 
 than theirs, and that pleased Sir Lionel, as he 
 is a Cornishman. Heavens, how I did take it out of 
 myself admiring his native land when we 'd got across 
 that ferry! Said the scenery was quite different from 
 that of Devonshire, at the first go off; and I 'm not sure 
 there were n't differences. The road coming toward 
 Launceston really was romantic; rock- walled part 
 of the way, with a lot of pink and yellow lichen; and 
 again, fine open spaces with distant blue downs against 
 a sky which looked, as I remarked to Sir Lionel, as if the 
 gods had poured a libation of golden wine over it. Not 
 bad, that, was it ? I believe we passed an Arthurian battle- 
 field, which naturally interested him immensely, therefore 
 had to interest poor me ! He seems to think there actually 
 was an Arthur, and was quite pleased with me for saying 
 that all the Cornish names of places rang with romance 
 like fairy bells sounding from under the sea perhaps from 
 Atlantis. Anyhow, they 're a relief after such Devonshire 
 horrors as Meavy and Hoo Meavy, which are like the 
 lisping of babies. Sir Lionel thought the "derivations" 
 of such names an absorbing subject! But living in the 
 East so long has made him quixotically patriotic.
 
 242 SETINSILVER 
 
 Here and there we passed a whole villageful of white- 
 washed cottages, with purplish-brown moss covering their 
 roofs rather picturesque; and some of the slate-roofed, 
 stone houses are nice in their way, too; I suppose dis- 
 tinctively Cornish. Not that I care! I 'm glad Graylees 
 Castle is n't in Cornwall, which is much too far from town. 
 
 There were some mine-shafts about, to mar the scenery, 
 toward the end of the journey, and the road surface was 
 bad compared to what we 've had. If the car were n't 
 a very good one, we should have suffered from the bumps. 
 Ellaline Lethbridge, by the way, said something about 
 Cornwall which puzzled me. Suddenly she exclaimed: 
 "Why, the atmosphere here is like Spain! Everything 
 swims in a sea of coloured lights!" I thought she'd 
 spent all her life at school in France, and I mentioned the 
 impression, upon which she replied, with an air of being 
 taken aback: "I mean, from what I have heard of Spain." 
 Can she have had an escapade, I wonder? But that is 
 Dick's business, not mine at present. 
 
 There 's a castle in Launceston, which has kept us over 
 to-day, as Sir Lionel has been in these parts before, and 
 can't rest unless we see everything he admired in his youth. 
 I wish he had n't seen so much, there 'd be less for us to do. 
 I Jiate pottering about, seeing sights in the rain, and it 
 has been trying to rain all day. It 's well enough to say 
 that the rain rains alike on the just and the unjust, but 
 that is not true, as some women's hair curls naturally. 
 Ellaline's does, and mine does n't except the part I 
 owe for at Truefitt's. 
 
 It 's an old hotel that we 're in, quite pleased to show its 
 age; and I have made rather a beast of myself with some
 
 SET IN SILVER 243 
 
 sort of Cornish pasty, which, it seems, is a local favourite, 
 and spoils the peasants' teeth. Cornish cream is good, 
 and, I understand from Sir Lionel, was invented by the 
 Phoenicians. I suppose they drowned their sorrows in it 
 while working in the tin mines one always associates with 
 them. 
 
 We go to Tintagel to-morrow, and do some other 
 Cornish things, I don't know what. But write to me at 
 Bideford, as we shall be back in Devonshire in a few days 
 on our way I fancy toward Wales. I long to hear 
 what you or Lady Mac may have up your sleeves about 
 the dear Ellaline's papa. 
 
 Ever your affectionate 
 
 GWEN. 
 
 Dick sends his love, and will write.
 
 XVIII 
 
 MRS. SENTER TO HER SISTER, MRS. BURDEN 
 
 King Arthur's Castle, Tintagel 
 Aug. 12th 
 
 MY DEAR Sis : I 'm sorry I told you to write to Bide- 
 ford, as we 're stopping at this place several days, and I 
 might have had your answer here. However, it 's too 
 late now, as by this time your letter is in the post, perhaps, 
 and we may or may not leave to-morrow. I think I can 
 be pretty sure your wire to Dick means that you 'd heard 
 from me, and that the news for him is not favourable. 
 If he guessed that I 'd been questioning you about the 
 eligibility of his girl, frankly I doubt if he 'd have swallowed 
 the bait of your telegram. Even as it was he seemed 
 restive, and did n't yearn to be packed off to Scotland, 
 even for a few days. However, he 'd committed himself by 
 reading your message aloud, before he stopped to think; 
 and when Sir Lionel and Ellaline had learned that you 
 were ill, and wanted him, they would have been shocked 
 if he 'd refused to go. I comforted him by promising to 
 sow strife between ward and guardian, as often and 
 diligently as possible, until he can get back to look after 
 his own interests, and I shall do my best to keep the 
 promise not for Dick's sake alone. 
 
 He was off within an hour after the telegram, a little 
 244
 
 SET IN SILVER 245 
 
 sulky, but not too worried, as he has the faith engendered 
 by experience in your recuperative powers. I, naturally, 
 worry still less, as I have a clue to the mystery of your 
 attack which Dick does n't possess. I quite believe that 
 by the time he reaches your side it will no longer be a bed- 
 side, but a sof aside; that you '11 be able to smile, hold 
 Dick's hand, and replace Benger's Food with slices of 
 partridge and sips of champagne. By the way, this is the 
 glorious Twelfth. It does seem odd and frumpish not 
 to be in Scotland, but motoring covers a multitude of 
 social sins. Not a word has been said about birds. Our 
 sporting talk is of mufflers, pinions, water-cooled brakes, 
 and chainless drives. 
 
 The Tyndals have turned up at this hotel, more gor- 
 geous and more bored than ever, but they have taken a 
 fancy to Ellaline Lethbridge, and I am playing it for all 
 it 's worth. It comes in handy at the moment, and I 
 have no conscientious scruples against using millionaires 
 for pawns. They have an impossibly luxurious motor- 
 car. Sir Lionel thinks it vulgar, but they are pleased with 
 it, as it 's still a new toy. I have been making a nice little 
 plan for them, which concerns Ellaline. None of them 
 know it yet, but they will soon, and if it had been invented 
 to please Dick (which it was n't entirely) it could n't 
 suit him better. You may tell him that, if by any chance 
 he 's with you still when you get this. 
 
 My mind is busy working the plan out, so that there may 
 be no hitch, but a few unoccupied corners of my brain are 
 wondering what you have discovered about Miss Leth- 
 bridge 's prospects and antecedents; how, if both are very 
 undesirable, you intend to persuade Dick to let her drop.
 
 246 SET IN SILVER 
 
 If I were you I would n't waste arguments. Retain him a 
 few days if you can, though I fear the only way to do so is 
 to have a fit. I believe that can be arranged by eating 
 soap and frothing at the mouth, which produces a striking 
 effect, and, though slightly disagreeable, is n't dangerous. 
 But seriously, if he refuses to hear reason, don't worry. 
 I am on the spot to snatch him at the last moment from 
 the mouth of the lionness, provided she opens it wide 
 enough to swallow him. 
 
 Your ever useful and affectionate sister, 
 
 GWEN. 
 
 P. S. The Tyndals have got a cousin of George's with 
 them, a budding millionaire from Eton, who has fallen in 
 love at sight with the Lethbridge. But even Dick can't 
 be jealous of childhood, and it may be helpful. 
 
 Taking everything together, I am enjoying myself here, 
 though I 'm impatient to get your letter. Cornwall agrees 
 with Sir Lionel's disposition, and he is being delightful to 
 everyone. I think while he is in the right mood I shall 
 repeat to him what a sad failure my marriage was, and 
 how little I really care for gaiety; "Society my lover, 
 solitude my husband," sort of thing. He is the kind of 
 man to like that, and the sweet, soft air of Cornwall is 
 conducive to credulity.
 
 XIX 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 King Arthur's Castle, Tintagel 
 August 12th 
 
 MOST DEAR AND SOVRAN LADY : I call you that because 
 I 've just been reading Sir Thomas Malory's " Le Morte 
 d'Arthur " (is that Old French spelling ?), and because the 
 style of address seems suitable to King Arthur's Castle 
 which is n't really his castle, you know, but an hotel. 
 I thought it was the castle, though, when I first saw it 
 standing up gray and massive on an imposing hill. I 
 supposed it had been restored, and was rather disap- 
 pointed to find it an hotel though it 's very jolly to live 
 in, with all the latest feudal improvements and fittings, 
 and King Arthur's Round Table in the enormous entrance- 
 hall. 
 
 Sir Lionel would n't let Mrs. Senter laugh at me for 
 thinking it the real castle, but said it was a natural mistake 
 for a girl who had spent all her life in a French school 
 and how should I know the difference? I was grateful 
 to him, for though I love to have some people laugh at me 
 she is n't one of those people. She laughs in that sniffy 
 way cats have. 
 
 The real castle I can see from my own feudal, castellated 
 balcony. It is beautifully ruined ; but you can go into it, 
 247
 
 248 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and I have been. Only I want to tell you about other 
 things first. 
 
 In my short note from Launceston, did I mention the 
 old Norman house which belongs to cousins of Sir Lionel's ? 
 He used to visit there, and poke about in the castle, 
 which was Godwin's and Harold's before the Conquest. 
 But the nicest cousins are dead and the rest are away, so 
 we could only see the outside of the house. However, we 
 went to call at an ancient stone cottage of the colour of 
 petrified wallflowers, to see a servant who took care of Sir 
 Lionel when he was a child. A wonderful old wisp of a 
 thing, with the reputation of being a witch, which wins her 
 great respect; and she used quaint Cornish words that 
 have come down from generation to generation, ever since 
 the early Celts, without changing. "When Sir Lionel 
 sympathized with her about her husband's death, she 
 said it was a grief, but he 'd been a sad invalid, and a 
 "good bit in the way of the oven " for several years. 
 
 On the way to Tintagel from Launceston we passed 
 Slaughter Bridge, one of the many places where legend 
 says King Arthur fought his last battle. So that was a 
 good entrance to Arthurian country, was n't it ? Our 
 road cut huge, rolling downs in two, and they surged up 
 on either side, so it was rather like the passage through 
 the Red Sea. And under a sky that hung over us like an 
 illimitable bluebell, we saw our first Cornish moun- 
 tains, Rough Tor and Brown Willy. Names of that sort 
 make you feel at home with mountains at once, as if you 'd 
 known them all your life, and might lead them about with 
 a string. But they are only corruptions of old Celtic 
 names that nobody could possibly pronounce; and nearly
 
 
 In Sir Lionel's county, Cornwall
 
 SET IN SILVER 249 
 
 everything seems more or less Celtic in Cornwall, especially 
 eyes. They are beautiful gray-blue, with their black 
 lashes as long on the lower as on the upper lid, and look 
 as if they had been " rubbed in with a dirty finger." Now 
 I see that Sir Lionel's eyes are Celtic. I did n't know quite 
 how to account for them at first. He has a temper, I 
 think, and could be severe; but he says the Cornish people 
 are so good-hearted that if you ask them the way any- 
 where, they tell you the one they think you would prefer 
 to take, whether it 's really right or not. But I 'm glad 
 he is not so easy going as that. 
 
 It was exciting to wheel into a little road like a lane, 
 marked "Tintagel"! I felt my copy of "LeMorte 
 d' Arthur" turning in my hand, like a water-diviner's rod. 
 We took the lane to avoid a tremendous hill, because 
 hills give Mrs. Norton the " creeps " in her feet and back 
 hair, and she never recovers until she has had tea. But it 
 was a charming lane, with views by and by of wide, purple 
 moorland, sunset-red with new heather; and the sky had 
 turned from bluebell azure to green and rose, in a wonder- 
 ful, chameleon way, which it seems that the sky has in 
 Cornwall. I suppose it was a Celtic habit! All about 
 us billowed a profusion of wild beauty; and though for a 
 long time there was nothing alive in sight except a flock 
 of bright pink sheep, my stage-managing fancy called up 
 knights of the round table, " pricking " o'er the downs on 
 their panoplied steeds to the rescue of fair, distressed 
 damsels. And the bright mirrors which the fleeting rain 
 had dropped along the road were the knights' polished 
 shields, laid down to save the ladies from wetting the 
 points of their jewelled slippers.
 
 250 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Then came my first sight of the Cornish sea, deep 
 hyacinth, with golden sails scattered upon it, and Arthur's 
 cliffs rising dark out of its satin sheen. Beyond, in the 
 background, gray houses and cottages grouped together, 
 the stone and slates worn shiny with age, like very old 
 marble, so that they reflected glints of colour from the rose 
 and violet sky. 
 
 By the time I was dressed for dinner it was sunset, 
 and I went to sit on the terrace and watch the splendid 
 cloud pageant. I seemed to be the only one of our party 
 who had come down yet, though, to tell the whole, whole 
 truth, I had had a sneaking idea Sir Lionel would perhaps 
 be strolling about with a cigarette, looking nice and 
 slim, and young, and soldierly in his dinner jacket. He 
 is nicer to look at in that than in almost anything else, I 
 think, as most Englishmen are. 
 
 He wasn't there, however, so I had to admire his 
 Cornish sunset without him. And I had such fine thoughts 
 about it, too ! at least they seemed fine to me ; and if I 
 were n't quite a congenial friend of my own it would have 
 seemed a waste of good material to lavish them on myself 
 alone. 
 
 I saw through the open door of the sunset, into Arthur's 
 kingdom, where he still rules, you know, and is lord of all. 
 The whole west was a Field-of-the-Cloth-of-Gold, and 
 across the blaze of golden glory rode dark shapes of cloud, 
 purple and crimson, violet and black. They were Arthur's 
 knights tilting in tournament, while the Queen of Beauty 
 and her attendant ladies looked on. Now and then, as 
 I watched, a knight fell, and a horse tore away riderless, 
 his gold-'broidered trappings floating on the wind. When
 
 SET IN SILVER 251 
 
 this happened, out of the illumined sea would writhe a 
 glittering dragon, or scaly heraldic beast, to prance or fly 
 along the horizon after the vanishing charger of the fallen 
 knight. Sometimes the rushing steed would swim to a 
 fairy island or siren-rock that floated silver-pale on the 
 shining water, or jutted dark out of a creamy line of 
 breakers; and though I knew that the knights and ladies 
 and wondrous animals were but inhabitants of Sunset 
 Kingdom, Limited, and that the glimmering islands and 
 jagged rocks would dissolve by and by into cloud-wreaths, 
 they all looked as real as the long tongue of land beyond 
 which North Devon crouched hiding. And the colour 
 flamed so fiercely in the sky that I was half afraid the sun 
 must be on fire. 
 
 As I sat there watching the last of the knights ride away, 
 three people came out of the hotel and stood on the terrace. 
 I just gave them one glance, and went back to the sunset, 
 but somehow I got the feeling that they were looking at me, 
 and talking about me. 
 
 Presently they began to walk up and down, and as they 
 passed in front of my seat, they turned an interested gaze 
 upon me. All I had known about them until then was 
 that they were a trio: a man, a woman, and a boy, with 
 conventional backs; but as they turned, I recognized the 
 man and the woman. 
 
 You would never guess who they were, so I '11 tell you. 
 Do you remember the people for whom you talked Italian 
 at Venice four years and a half ago, the day we arrived, 
 and there was a strike, and no porters to carry anybody's 
 luggage ? Well, here they were at Tintagel ! I was perfectly 
 certain of this in an instant, and I realized why they were
 
 252 SETINSILVER 
 
 so interested in me. They thought they had seen me 
 before, but perhaps were not sure. 
 
 Anyway, they walked on, and only the boy looked back. 
 He was dressed in Eton clothes, and was exactly like all 
 other boys, except that he had mischievous eyes and a 
 bored mouth almost as dangerous a combination in a 
 boy, I should think, as a box of matches and a barrel of 
 gunpowder. 
 
 I thought that he was probably their son, and that, 
 as he had nothing better to do, he was wondering 
 about me. I would have given a lot to know what 
 they were saying, and whether Venice was in their 
 minds or not, but I could do nothing except hope they 
 might not place me mentally. I would n't get up and 
 go in, because that would have been too cowardly; and 
 besides, if they were staying in the hotel, I should 
 certainly run up against them afterward. 
 
 I had just decided to face it out, and had put on a for- 
 bidding expression, when along came Sir Lionel, so I had 
 to take off the expression and fold it away for future 
 emergencies. He was smoking one of those cigarettes 
 which go so well with sunsets, and he had seen the King 
 Arthur sky-tournament from the other side of the house. 
 He said he had not supposed I should be down so soon, 
 but was hoping that I had n't missed the show, wherever 
 I was. He threw away his cigarette which is one of his 
 old-fashioned tricks if he sees a woman, never even wait- 
 ing to know if she minds and asked if he might sit on 
 the seat by me. That was old-fashioned, too, was n't it ? 
 The Dick Burdens of the world plump themselves down 
 by girls without worrying to get permission. They think
 
 SETINSILVER 253 
 
 female things will be too flattered for words, by a con- 
 descending male desire to be near them. 
 
 I told you how nice Sir Lionel looks in evening clothes, 
 did n't I ? You 've no idea what a perfect shape his 
 head is; and a large lake of white shirt under a little black 
 silk bow is particularly becoming to a clean-shaven man 
 with a very tanned skin though I don't know why. 
 One would think it might have the opposite effect. And 
 Sir Lionel does tie his necktie so nicely, with a kind of 
 careless precision which comes right of itself, like every- 
 thing he does. (You will think all this is silly, and it 
 is; but I keep noticing things about him, and liking them, 
 so I tell you, because I may have prejudiced you against 
 him at first, as Ellaline prejudiced me.) 
 
 We were beginning to have a good talk about Cornwall, 
 and quaint Cornish ways and superstitions, when out of 
 the house came Mrs. Senter. The Venice people had 
 just passed again, and were near the hotel door as she 
 appeared. 
 
 "Why, Sallie and George!" she exclaimed. 
 
 And " Why, Gwen !" the Venice lady answered. 
 
 They shook hands, the boy and all, and though Sir 
 Lionel did n't pay much attention to what was going on, 
 I could n't keep up our conversation. "Suppose they tell 
 Mrs. Senter they met me in Venice!" I said to myself. 
 "Whats/tatf Ido?" 
 
 Out of one corner of my eye I saw that they did speak of 
 me, and she threw a quick, eager glance in my direction. 
 A minute or two later they all strolled on together, until 
 they had come in front of our seat. There Mrs. Senter 
 paused, and said, "Sir Lionel, these are my friends, Mr.
 
 254 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and Mrs. Tyndal, of whom I think I must have spoken to 
 you, and this is their cousin, Mr. Tom Tyndal. They are 
 touring in their motor, and arrived here this afternoon, a 
 little before us. Quite a coincidence, is n't it ?" And 
 then, as if on second thoughts, she added me to the 
 introduction. 
 
 "Quite a coincidence/' indeed! It never rains, but it 
 pours coincidences, on any head that is developing a 
 criminal record. 
 
 The Tyndals paid Sir Lionel compliments, and seemed 
 to be delighted to meet him, evidently regarding him as a 
 great celebrity, which, I suppose, he really is. Then, 
 when they had made him sufficiently uncomfortable 
 (compliments are to him what a sudden plague of locusts 
 would be to most men), they turned to me. 
 
 "Surely we have met before, Miss Lethbridge?" 
 remarked Mrs. Tyndal. And you ought to have seen 
 how Mrs. Senter's features sharpened, as she waited for 
 me to stammer or blush. 
 
 As far as the blush was concerned, she had her 
 money's worth; and I only did n't stammer because I 
 was obliged to stop and think before replying. I 
 almost worshipped Sir Lionel when he answered for 
 me, in a quick, positive way he has, which there seems 
 no gainsaying. I suppose men who live in the East 
 cultivate that, as it keeps natives from arguing and 
 answering back. 
 
 "Impossible," said he, "unless it was at Versailles, 
 where my ward has been at school since she was a very 
 small child, with no holidays except at St. Cloud." 
 
 "Might n't it have been at Paris ?" obligingly suggested
 
 SETINSILVER 255 
 
 Mrs. Senter, determined I should n't be let off, if con- 
 viction of any sort were possible. 
 
 "No, I don't think it was at Paris," murmured Mrs. 
 Tyndal, reflectively, eyeing me in the sunset light, which 
 was turning to pure amethyst. "Now, where could it 
 have been ? I seem to associate your face with with 
 Italy." 
 
 Oh, my goodness! She was getting "warm" in our 
 game of "hide the handkerchief." 
 
 "She has never been to Italy," said Sir Lionel, begin- 
 ning to look rather cross, as if Mrs. Tyndal were taking 
 liberties with his belongings of which, you see, he 
 thinks me one. 
 
 "Not even Venice?" she persisted. "Oh, yes, 
 that is it! Now I know where I seem to have seen you 
 at Venice. You remember, don't you, George ?" 
 
 By this time sparks had lighted up in Sir Lionel's eyes, 
 as if he were a Turk, and one of the ladies of his harem 
 were unjustly suspected. 
 
 "It is impossible for Mr. Tyndal to remember what 
 did n't happen," he said, dropping a lump of ice into his 
 voice. "You saw someone who looked like her in Venice, 
 perhaps, but not my ward." 
 
 I was almost sorry for the poor Tyndals, who meant 
 no harm, though they had the air of being so fright- 
 fully rich and prosperous that it seemed ridiculous to 
 pity them. 
 
 "Of course, it could only have been a resemblance," 
 said Mr. Tyndal, with that snubby glare at Mrs. Tyndal 
 which husbands and wives keep for each other. 
 
 "It must have been," she responded, taking up her
 
 256 SET IN SILVER 
 
 cue; for naturally they did n't want to begin their acquain- 
 tance with a distinguished person by offending him. 
 
 These signs of docility caused Sir Lionel to relent and 
 come down off his high horse. Whenever he has been at 
 all haughty or impatient with his sister (whose denseness 
 would sometimes try a saint) he is sorry in a minute, and 
 tries to be extra nice. It was the same now in the case of 
 the poor Tyndals, whose Etonian cousin had all the time 
 been gazing up at him with awed adoration, as of a hero 
 on a pedestal ; and suddenly a quaint thought struck me. 
 I remembered about the Bengalese Sir Lionel was sup- 
 posed to have executed for some offence or other, and I 
 could see him being sorry immediately afterward, tearing 
 around trying to stick their heads on again, and saying 
 pleasant words. 
 
 Well, he stuck the Tyndals' heads on very kindly, so 
 that they almost forgot they 'd ever been slashed off; and 
 when Mrs. Norton came out, which she did in a few min- 
 utes, looking as if she 'd washed the dust off her face with 
 kitchen soap, we all strolled up and down together, till it 
 was time for dinner. 
 
 Mrs. Tyndal walked with me, but not a word did she 
 say about Venice. That subject was to be tabooed, but 
 I 'm far from sure she was convinced of her mistake, and 
 she could n't overcome her intense interest in my features. 
 However, she seems good-natured, as if even to please Mrs. 
 Senter she would n't care to do me a bad turn. Only, I 
 don't think people do things from motives as a rule, do you ? 
 They just suddenly find they want to do them, and presto, 
 the things are done ! That 's why the world 's so exciting. 
 
 We chatted non-committally of cabbages and kings
 
 SET IN SILVER 257 
 
 and automobiles; and I recalled tracing pneu-tracks 
 like illusive lights and shadows before us on the damp road, 
 as we spun into Tintagel. No doubt they were the pneus 
 of the Tyndals. 
 
 Their table was next ours in the dining room, so close 
 that motor-chat was tossed back and forth, and it 
 appeared that Mr. Tyndal was as proud of his car as a cat 
 of its mouse. Mrs. Tyndal's mice are her jewels, and she 
 has droves of them, which she displayed at dinner. After- 
 ward she did lace-work, which made her rings gleam 
 beautifully, and she said she did n't particularly like doing 
 it, but it was something to "kill time." How awful! 
 But I suppose frightfully rich people are like that. 
 They sometimes get fatty degeneration of the soul. 
 
 Well, nothing more happened that evening, except that 
 the Tyndal boy and I made great friends quite a nice 
 boy, pining for some mischief that idle hands might do; 
 and his cousins said that, as we were going to stop 
 several days at Tintagel, "making it a centre," they 
 would stop, too. Sir Lionel did n't appear overjoyed at the 
 decision, but Mrs. Senter seemed glad. She and her sister, 
 Mrs. Burden, have known the Tyndals for years, and are 
 by way of being friends, yet she works off her little fire- 
 work epigrams against them when their backs are turned, 
 o,s she does on everybody. According to her, their princi- 
 pal charm for society :n London is their cook; and she 
 says the art treasures in their house are all illegitimate; 
 near-Gobelin, not-quite-Raphaels, and so on She makes 
 Sir Lionel smile; but I wonder i? she 'd adopt this 
 cheap method if he 'd ever mentioned to her (as he has to 
 me) that of all meannesses he despises disloyalty ?
 
 258 SET IN SILVER 
 
 The Tyndal boy went up to bed before the rest of us, 
 and when Sir Lionel and Mrs. Norton had been forced to 
 play bridge with Mrs. Senter^and Mr. Tyndal, I slipped 
 away, too. 
 
 We 'd lived in the hotel such a short time, and it 's so 
 big, that I counted on recognizing my room by the boots 
 which I put outside the door when I went down to sun- 
 set and dinner. Of course, I 'd forgotten my number, as 
 I always do. I would n't consider myself a normal girl 
 if I did n't. 
 
 There were the boots, not taken away yet looking 
 abject, as boots do in such situations but I was pleased 
 to see that they compared favourably in size with the gray 
 alligator-skin and patent leather eccentricities of Mrs. 
 Senter, reposing on an adjacent doormat. With this 
 frivolous reflection in my mind, it did n't occur to me, as 
 I turned the handle of the door marked by my brown 
 footgear, that the room now appeared farther to the left, 
 along the passage, than I had the impression of its being. 
 I opened the door, which was not locked, walked in, felt 
 about for the electric light, switched it on, and had 
 sauntered over to a table in the centre of the room before 
 I noticed anything strange. Then, to my startled vision 
 appeared unfamiliar brushes and combs on a chest of 
 drawers; beautiful, but manly looking silver-backed ones; 
 and along the wall was a row of flat tweed legs, on 
 stretchers. 
 
 For an instant I stood still, bewildered, as if I 'd walked 
 into a dream, beguiled by a false clue of boots; and during 
 my few seconds of temporary aberration my dazed eyes 
 fell upon a book which lay on the table. It was Sir
 
 SET IN SILVER 259 
 
 Lionel's "Morte <T Arthur " (second volume; he 's lent me 
 the first), and in it for a marker was a glove of mine. I 'd 
 lost it at Torquay, after we had our dear, good talk, and 
 he knew I was looking for it, all about the sitting room 
 we had at the hotel there, yet he never said a word. 
 
 Oh, dear little French mother, you can't think what an 
 odd feeling it gave me to see he had kept my glove, and 
 had put it in his book ! Yes, I believe you can think, too, 
 because probably you 've felt just like that yourself when 
 you were a girl, only you never thought it convenable to 
 describe your symptoms for your daughter's benefit. I 
 know it was perfectly schoolgirlish of me, and I ought to 
 have outgrown such sentimentality with my teens; but if 
 you could see Sir Lionel, and understand the sort of man 
 he is, you would n't think me so outrageous. That he he, 
 of all men should care to keep anything which would 
 remind him of an insignificant child like me ! I 'm afraid 
 there came a prickly feeling in my eyelids, and I had the 
 most idiotic desire to kiss the book, which I knew would 
 have a nice smell of his cigarettes, because my borrowed 
 volume has. Of course, I would n't have done it for any- 
 thing, though, so don't think I 'm worse than I am. And 
 really, really, I don't believe I 'm exactly in love. I hope 
 I 'm not so foolish. It 's just a kind of infatuated fas- 
 cination of a moth not for a candle, but for a great, 
 brilliant motor lamp. I 've seen them at night dashing 
 themselves against the glass of our Bleriots once or twice 
 when we 've been out late, and I know how hopelessly 
 they smash their soft, silly wings. I should have been 
 like them if I 'd kissed the book; but instead, after that 
 one look which told me the glove really was my glove, I
 
 260 SET IN SILVER 
 
 bounced out of the room, snatching my boots up as I 
 dashed across the threshold. 
 
 Bump! as I did so I almost telescoped with Sir Lionel 
 who had retrieved his boots, probably from my doormat. 
 And at the same moment came a boyish yelp from some- 
 where, followed by the smart slap of a door shutting. I 
 wished it had been a smart slap of my hand on the Tyndal 
 boy's ear, for of course the boot-changing was that little 
 fiend's work, I guessed in a second. 
 
 So did Sir Lionel, and we both laughed at ourselves, 
 at each other, and everything. It seems that the Youthful 
 Horror had changed every pair of boots along the corridor, 
 and made the most weird combinations. I don't suppose 
 Sir Lionel thought about the glove in the book, anyway 
 at the time, and luckily there was nothing tell-tale in my 
 room, in case he strayed in, except your photograph in the 
 silver frame you gave me on my last birthday. And of 
 course he could make nothing of that. 
 
 He had got out of playing bridge, because when Mrs. 
 Tyndal saw he was n't keen, she offered to take a hand, 
 and he said he did want to write to a man in Bengal, 
 his best friend. 
 
 We talked to each other only a few minutes, after the 
 boot-puzzle had been put right; but would you believe it, 
 up came Mrs. Senter, while Sir Lionel and I were bidding 
 each other good night in front of my door ? She looked as 
 stiff and wicked as a frozen snake for an instant; then she 
 smiled too sweetly, and said she 'd come for her Spanish 
 lace mantilla. But I almost know she had fancied that Sir 
 Lionel might have made an excuse to get a word with me, 
 and had flown up to find out for herself.
 
 SET IN SILVER 261 
 
 You can imagine, dear, that I did n't feel much like 
 going to bed when I 'd finished saying good-night, and shut 
 my door upon the world. It seemed to me that this birth- 
 place of Sir Lionel's ancestor, King Arthur Pendragon, was 
 too romantic and wonderful to go tamely to sleep in. And 
 what was my covered balcony for, if not to dream dreams 
 and think thoughts, by moonlight ? 
 
 So I switched off the electricity in my room, and went out 
 to find that the moon (which is big and grand now) had 
 come out, too, tearing apart a great black cloud in order to 
 look down on Arthur-land, and see if she had any adorers. 
 Anyway, she must have seen me, for she turned the night 
 into silver dawn, so clear and bright that she could n't have 
 missed me if she tried. 
 
 I did wish for you to be with me then, and I 'm ashamed 
 to confess I would n't have minded Sir Lionel as a compan- 
 ion, because Tintagel seems so much more his than mine. 
 
 Never did I hear the sea talk poetry and legend as it 
 does round those dark rocks of old "Dundagel." I 
 thought as I leaned out from my balcony, a lonely, 
 unappreciated Juliet that the sound was like the chant- 
 ing voice of an ancient bard, telling stories of the golden 
 days to himself or to all who might care to listen. I 
 fancied I could hear the words: 
 
 They found a naked child upon the sands 
 Of dark Dundagel by the Cornish sea. 
 
 I could see the ruined castle, on its twin cliffs, below 
 the hotel-castle cliff and between me and the sea; and 
 the very meagreness of what remains seemed to increase 
 the interest and mystery by stimulating the imagination, 
 forcing it to create its own pictures. I "reconstructed"
 
 262 SET IN SILVER 
 
 the castle, building it of the same stone they use now at 
 Tintagel, and have used for the last thousand years or so : 
 a dark stone, singularly rich with colour pansy and 
 wallflower colour, with splashes of green flung on to dead 
 gray, like bright autumn leaves stirred into a heap of other 
 leaves dim and dead. And the mortar for my masonry 
 was the moonlight which flooded the sea and those wide 
 downs whose divisions into fields turned them into enor- 
 mous maps. 
 
 I worked myself up into such a romantic mood that I 
 almost cried in the joy and pain of living, and expected to 
 look back upon myself with the "utmost spurn" when I 
 should come back to real life after a good sleep in the 
 morning. But I did n't, perhaps because, instead of 
 encouraging the good sleep, I lay and listened to the wild 
 song of the Cornish wind. 
 
 I waked early, feeling exactly the same, if not more 
 so, and could hardly wait to get down into the ruins of the 
 old castle. I splashed about in a cold bath, dressed as 
 quickly as a well-groomed girl can, and then I com- 
 mitted what might seem an indiscreet act if the last of the 
 Pendragons and I did not stand toward each other in the 
 place of guardian and ward. "Nothing is, but thinking 
 makes it so." And Sir Lionel certainly does think we 're 
 in those positions ; therefore it was all right for me to knock 
 at his door, and ask through the keyhole if he would 
 very, very much mind taking me to the castle ? 
 
 He was dressed, and opened the door instantly. It 
 was the one thing he would have liked to propose, said 
 he, only he had been afraid of disturbing me so early. 
 Was n't that kind of him ? I remembered the glove, and
 
 SET IN SILVER 263 
 
 the thought of it was more delicious than a breakfast of 
 Cornish cream and honey; although, of course, larking 
 in the background of my mind was the horrid idea that; 
 he might have accidentally picked the thing up to use as 
 a bookmark. And another idea, gloomier even, though 
 not so horrid, was that, even if he does like me well enough 
 to keep things of mine, he must soon grow to hate me 
 when he knows who I am. 
 
 He suggested coffee, but I would n't have it, because I 
 was afraid Mrs. Senter might appear and want to go to 
 the castle too. I had visions of her, hearing our voices 
 in the corridor, and dashing out of bed to fling on her 
 clothes; but even if she did overhear the whole conversa- 
 tion, I don't think she 's the kind who looks her best before 
 breakfast, if she has dressed in a hurry; and anyway, we 
 were spared the apparition. 
 
 It was a fine scramble getting to the ruins, and when Sir 
 Lionel had opened a door (with a key you get from a 
 cottage close by the sea) it was quite as if he were my host, 
 entertaining me in his ancestral home. I told him that 
 it felt twice as interesting to be there with a true Pendragon, 
 than with a mere king or anybody like that, and he seemed 
 pleased. 
 
 "I hope I am a 'true' Pendragon," he said, rather 
 thoughtfully. "One must try to be always." He 
 looked at me very, very kindly, as if he would have liked to 
 say something more; but he did n't speak, and turned away 
 his eyes to look far over the sea. It was only for a little 
 while, though, that he was absent-minded. Sitting there 
 on the rough, wind-blown grass which is the floor of the 
 castle now, he told me things about the place and its history.
 
 264 SET IN SILVER 
 
 How Dundagel meant the "Safe Castle," and how the 
 "Arthurian believers" say it was built by the Britons in 
 earliest Roman days; how David Bruce of Wales was 
 entertained by the Earl of Cornwall on the very spot where 
 we were sitting, and how the great hall, once famous, was 
 destroyed as long ago as when Chaucer was a baby. And 
 as he talked, the rising wind wailed and sobbed like old, old 
 witches crying over the evil fallen on Arthur and his castle. 
 Such an old, wise-sounding wind it was, old enough to have 
 been blowing when Arthur was a baby, drowning the lulla- 
 bies sung by his mother Igerna, "that greatest beauty 
 in Britain." 
 
 We forgot breakfast, and stopped in the ruins a long 
 time, until suddenly we both realized that we were 
 desperately hungry. But instead of going up to our own 
 hotel, we walked into the quaint village (whose real name 
 is Trevena, though nobody calls it that) and had something 
 to eat at a hotel where Sir Lionel used to stop occasionally 
 when he was a boy. Afterward, we went to see the village 
 schoolmaster, whom he knew; such a nice man, who paints 
 pictures as well as teaches the children and I felt guilty 
 at being introduced as Sir Lionel's "ward." I think my 
 conscience is like a bruised peach, pinched by many 
 fingers to see if it 's ripe, I have that guilty feeling so often ! 
 When we spoke of the schoolmaster's versatility, he 
 laughed and said it was "nothing to his predecessor's," 
 who used to cut the children's hair, clip horses, measure 
 land, act as parish clerk as well as teacher, pull teeth, and 
 beat such transgressors as had to be punished in a way 
 less serious than prison. Does n't that take one back to 
 long ago ? But so does everything in Tintagel and all
 
 SET IN SILVER 265 
 
 over Cornwall, Sir Lionel says. They have such nice old- 
 fashioned words here! Is n't "jingle" good? It 's some 
 kind of a conveyance, exactly the opposite of a motor-car, 
 I fancy, from the description. And I like the word "huer," 
 too. It means a man who gives the hue and cry when the 
 pilchards are coming in, and all the fishermen must run 
 to the sea. 
 
 I should like to know everything about Cornwall, from 
 the smugglers, and the famous wrestlers, to the witches 
 the last of whom lives near Boscastle still. But the little 
 that travellers in motors can learn about places steeped in 
 history, is like trying to know all about a beautiful great 
 tree by one leaf of flying gold which falls into the auto- 
 mobile as it sweeps by, along the road. Still, the little one 
 does learn is unforgettable, impressed upon the mind in a 
 different way from the mere learning. And I suppose few 
 people know everything about every place, even in their 
 own countries. If they did, I 'm sure they 'd be prigs, and 
 no one would want to know them! 
 
 When we got back to our hotel castle on the cliff, the 
 Tyndals' motor was at the door, a huge, gorgeous chariot, 
 and nothing would do but we must "try the car." Mrs. 
 Senter had promised to go, and was putting on her hat. 
 
 The Tyndals are difficult people to resist, because if you 
 try to make excuses they pin you down in one way or 
 another, so that you must either do what they want or hurt 
 their feelings; and though Sir Lionel is supposed to have 
 been so strict in Bengal, he is quite soft-hearted in England. 
 I think he hates going about in motors that are n't his, 
 because he enjoys being the man at the helm, which is 
 perhaps characteristic of him; however, the Tyndals
 
 266 SET IN SILVER 
 
 swept all of us, except Mrs. Norton, away to Delabole to 
 see the slate quarries, and to have the adventure of sliding 
 down a fearfully steep incline in a tiny trolley-car if 
 that 's the right word for it. I half expected Charon to 
 meet me with his ferry-boat at the bottom. It would n't 
 have seemed much stranger than other things in 
 Cornwall. 
 
 All that happened yesterday. To-day we have been to 
 Trebarwith Strand and Port Isaac, and have walked to the 
 loneliest church I ever saw, with the gravestones in the 
 burying ground propped by buttresses, that the wind 
 may n't throw them down. It is Tintagel church, though 
 it 's a good long way from the village, and the vicarage is 
 of the fourteenth century. 
 
 Oh, and I heard a splendid legend about the ruined 
 castle from the vicar, who is its warden ! It seems, when 
 it was built by the old princes of West Wales very 
 beautiful as well as strong, with walls "painted of many 
 colours," it was placed under a powerful spell by Merlin, 
 that it might become invisible twice in' every year. How 
 I should like to be at Tintagel at the right time, and see if 
 the ruins would disappear from before my eyes. I believe 
 they would; and the enchantment would take the form of 
 a sea mist. 
 
 To-morrow we are to leave Cornwall for Bideford. 
 
 I had got as far as that, when Mrs. Senter knocked at 
 my door, and asked if she might come in for a few minutes; 
 so I had to say yes, and "smile full well in counterfeited 
 glee." But I hated to be interrupted, as there was just 
 time before dressing for dinner to finish my letter to you.
 
 SET IN SILVER 267 
 
 Now it is after dinner, and before I go to bed, I '11 tell you 
 what has happened. 
 
 How conceited I was to suppose it possible that Sir 
 Lionel thought me an important person! I am sure the 
 glove episode must have been a mere accident. Serves me 
 right! 
 
 Mrs. Senter came to tell me that they 'd all been talking 
 about the way to Bideford, and Sir Lionel said the road 
 was so hilly, he wished we had n't quite as many 
 passengers in the car. Then the Tyndals asked if 
 they might take me, because they 'd made up their minds 
 to go to Bideford too, and Sir Lionel answered that it 
 would be a splendid way out of the difficulty if I were 
 willing. The only trouble was, he did n't like to propose 
 such a thing for fear of hurting my feelings; and the 
 conversation ended, according to Mrs. Senter, by the Tyn- 
 dals planning to suggest the idea to me as if it were their 
 own, then letting the matter rest on my decision. 
 
 Mrs. Senter went on to explain that Sir Lionel did n't 
 know she was repeating to me what had passed, but that 
 she thought I would prefer to know. "I 'm sure / should 
 if I were in your place," she purred sweetly. "When the 
 Tyndals invite you, of course you must do exactly as you 
 please; but don't you think for Mrs. Norton's sake, as 
 she 's such a coward, it would be best to keep the car as 
 light as possible, since Sir Lionel fears the roads are really 
 bad?" 
 
 "Oh, certainly," said I, trying so hard not to blush 
 that I must have been purple. "I shall be delighted to go 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Tyndal, in their lovely car, and it 's 
 very nice of them to ask me."
 
 268 SET IN SILVER 
 
 "You won't tell Sir Lionel I interfered, will you?'* she 
 begged. "I should be quite afraid of him if he were 
 angry." 
 
 "You need n't worry. He shan't hear anything from 
 me," said I. 
 
 "And you do think I was right to let you know?" she 
 implored. 
 
 "Of course," I assured her. But I was feeling hurt all 
 the way up to my topmost hair and down to my tipmost 
 toe. Not that I mind going with the Tyndals, but that 
 Sir Lionel should pick me out as the bit of superfluous 
 ballast to cast to the winds! That was what made me 
 feel cold and old, and alone in the world. I conscien- 
 tiously told myself that I was the youngest of the party, 
 and the right one to sacrifice; but nothing was much 
 comfort until the thought jumped into my head that 
 maybe Mrs. Senter had fibbed. I went to dinner buoyed 
 up by that hope, but it died young; for the Tyndals 
 did invite me, in Sir Lionel's hearing; and when I said that 
 I should be charmed he smiled calmly. So far from 
 making objections, I thought he looked quite pleased. 
 
 Poor me! I fancied in the castle ruins that he actually 
 liked my society. But I forgot that I 'd invited him to 
 go with me. / shan't forget again. And hang the glove ! 
 Your poor, foolish, conceited, humiliated 
 
 AUDBIE.
 
 XX 
 
 TELEGRAM FROM DICK BURDEN TO HIS AUNT 
 
 Glen Lachlan, August 13th 
 
 8 o'clock A.M. 
 
 SENTER, KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE, TINTAGEL, CORNWALL: 
 
 Returning to-day. Hope find you still at Tintagel. 
 Try and make Pendragon stay if he plans to leave. Find 
 some excuse.
 
 XXI 
 
 TELEGRAM FROM MRS. SENTER TO HER NEPHEW 
 
 Tintagel, August I3th, 9.20 A.M. 
 R. BURDEN, GLEN LACHLAN, N. B. 
 
 Just starting for Bideford. Can make no excuse to 
 delay, but have done better. If you arrive Tintagel 
 to-night will find member of party most important to 
 you still there. Better hurry. Will leave letter explain- 
 ing all. 
 
 SENTER. 
 
 270
 
 XXII 
 
 LETTER LEFT BY MRS. SENTER AT KING 
 
 ARTHUR'S CASTLE HOTEL, FOR HER 
 
 NEPHEW, DICK BURDEN 
 
 August 13th 
 
 DEAR DICK: Your wire has just come as we are start- 
 ing. I 've telegraphed, and will leave a few words for 
 you in pencil. Lucky you have a resourceful relative, 
 and that Mrs. Norton's washing did n't come till late 
 this morning! My resourcefulness enables me to change 
 my plans for your benefit, or rather, to make them work 
 together for your good, in the time most women take to 
 change their minds; while the lateness of Mrs. N.'s wash- 
 ing and her mild obstinacy in determining to wait for it, 
 against her brother's wishes, provide us with a few extra 
 minutes. 
 
 Now it suddenly appears that Young Nick has n't 
 enough petrol to get on as far as anywhere. That 
 will give us more minutes. Brown Buddha, as your 
 adored one calls him, has crawled humbly but swiftly off 
 to obtain a new supply. Sir Lionel, already in a vile 
 temper for reasons which I may have time to explain, is 
 bursting with rage to which he is too proud to give a 
 natural outlet. He looks ready to explode, not with 
 bombs, but with dambs. I have never heard him say 
 271
 
 272 SET IN SILVER 
 
 a single one, during the whole of our acquaintance, but 
 his eyes are sending out a fiery cataract of them this 
 minute. A good thing for me he does n't know what I 
 know, or the fire would be turned upon me, and I should 
 wither like "She" in her second bath. 
 
 Quickly I '11 tell you what I 've done, and why Sir 
 Lionel is wild; also how I 've rearranged everything and 
 everybody at the last minute, in order to satisfy you. 
 What a precious darling aunt you have got, to be sure, 
 and what a lot you do owe her! 
 
 For motives of my own, I planned to transplant your 
 sweet Ellaline from our motor-car to the motor-car of 
 others for the day. The "others" are George and 
 Sallie Tyndal, about whose sudden, apropos appearance 
 I wrote your mother only yesterday; but, of course, as 
 you 're leaving to-day you '11 miss the news in that letter. 
 I thought your anxiety for your parent's health would 
 hardly be poignant enough to keep you in Scotland 
 long, but I did n't suppose you 'd be able to tear yourself 
 away quite so soon. 
 
 I don't doubt you wonder how it can be possible for me 
 to have too much of dear E.'s society, but strange as that 
 may seem, it can ; and worse than that, I dislike Sir Lionel 
 getting too much of it. I don't think it is good for him; 
 and he 's had enough of the commodity since we 've been 
 in Tintagel to produce, according to my point of view 
 and yours, disastrous effects. I decided that drastic 
 measures were necessary for both our sakes, and with me 
 to decide is to act when anything really important is 
 at stake. 
 
 First I persuaded the Tyndals that it would be kindly
 
 SET IN SILVER 273 
 
 to invite Miss I/ethbridge to travel in their motor to Bide- 
 ford, whither they also are bound. I said that Sir Lionel 
 feared we would be rather a crowd for his car, as the 
 roads are supposed to be bad. This flattered them, for 
 their motor, which is somewhat more powerful than ours, 
 is the one object for which they live at present. Besides, 
 they were delighted at the chance of getting the girl to 
 themselves, as they think they met her years ago in Italy, 
 where it is alleged she has never been. Some school girl 
 escapade, perhaps. You had better do a little catechising, 
 later on. Meanwhile, the Tyndals yearn for the oppor- 
 tunity of pumping. Sir Lionel has quite fiercely pre- 
 vented them from doing so, up to date. He looked 
 ready to challenge poor George to a duel the other evening 
 for merely suggesting that they might have met Miss 
 Lethbridge in Venice. 
 
 To Sir L. I hinted that Ellaline was bored, now that 
 you were gone, and that she would enjoy the change of 
 travelling for a day with new people; that she had taken 
 a fancy to the Tyndal boy; and I added that she had 
 asked me privately whether I thought that Sir Lionel 
 would object to her accepting, provided the Tyndals 
 wanted her to go to Bideford. Naturally, when the 
 invitation came, he did not object. You 'd have laughed 
 if you could have seen her face when he smiled with 
 apparent benevolent delight upon the suggestion. The 
 sight would have repaid you for many a snub, my poor 
 love-sick swain! 
 
 That was where matters stood till your telegram came, 
 a few minutes ago. All I hoped for was, to get rid of 
 the dear child for one long, happy day, and to estrange
 
 274 SET IN SILVER 
 
 her a little (partly for your sake) from her solicitous guard- 
 ian. But your wire set another bee humming in my 
 motor-bonnet. I determined to do you a good turn if 
 I could; so I flew up, before answering you, to have a talk 
 with the Tyndals. They were starting a few minutes 
 after us, by my advice, and had n't come downstairs yet. 
 Ellaline, too, was still in her room, sulking, no doubt, and 
 had n't said good-bye to Sir Lionel or any of us. I know 
 that, because my room at this hotel has been close to hers 
 
 and to his, too; so whenever a word is murmured on 
 a doorstep I hear. No word has been murmured this 
 morning; and E. has had her breakfast sent into her 
 bedroom. 
 
 To the Tyndals I said that word had arrived from 
 you, and that in confidence I would tell them that you and 
 Miss Lethbridge are as good as engaged. At least, that 
 you had a private understanding which would be an 
 engagement if Sir Lionel were n't a dog in the manger. 
 He did n't want the girl himself, I explained, yet he did n't 
 want to give her to anyone else short of a millionaire. 
 You, I went on to say, had wired that you would be back 
 this evening, and Ellaline was dying to stay and see you. 
 Sir Lionel did n't know you were coming, I confessed, 
 and would be angry if he did ; but if they the Tyndals 
 
 could somehow misunderstand the arrangements made 
 overnight, and in the confusion of their minds leave Miss 
 Lethbridge behind, it would be a great favour to everyone 
 concerned except Sir Lionel. 
 
 The Tyndals, who think a lot of themselves because 
 they have more money than brains, are annoyed with Sir 
 L. because he snapped at them about Venice; so they
 
 SET IN SILVER 275 
 
 were rather pleased at the idea of doing him a bad turn 
 and at the same time advancing Love's Young Dream. 
 When I assured them it would be easy to say that they 
 understood Ellaline had changed her mind and was 
 going with Sir Lionel, they agreed to slip off without her 
 about half an hour after the flight of Apollo. That 
 is the plan, as it stands, up to date. Sir Lionel and Mrs. 
 Norton won't know till this evening at Bideford that E. 
 is n't with the Tyndals; and then of course I shall get 
 George and Sallie out of his bad graces as well as I can. 
 Meanwhile you will find her at Tintagel, and can bring 
 her on by rail. That will be delightful for you; and as 
 Sir Lionel is old-fashioned in some of his notions, he 
 may be more inclined to consent to an engagement between 
 you after the sort of journey you and she will have 
 together. So I think all interests will have been served. 
 
 I am writing in the big hall of the hotel, and Sir Lionel is 
 walking up and down, glaring first out of one window, 
 and then out of another, at the rain, which is beginning to 
 come down in drops as large as half-crowns. I only 
 wish my half crowns, or even my shillings, were as plenti- 
 ful 1 But perhaps they will be, some day before long 
 who knows? I do hope Ellaline won't take it into her 
 head to appear at the last minute before we get off, and 
 complicate things. Not that I won't be equal to dis- 
 posing of her if she does ! But no ! here is Young Nick, 
 very meek and soapy. He has got his petrol. Emily 
 Norton reluctantly puts down a twenty-year-old volume 
 of Blackwood which she has found in the hotel library. 
 We are off. Good-bye and good luck. 
 
 GWEN.
 
 XXIII 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Tintagel, August 13th 
 
 DEAREST LODESTAR: I can feel you drawing me across 
 miles of land and sea, and if only I could travel on a 
 'telepathic pass I would start this minute, Ellaline or 
 no Ellaline. Toward her and Sir Lionel I feel as Mer- 
 cutio felt toward the Montagus and Capulets: "A 
 plague on both your houses!" Nobody seems to care 
 what becomes of me. Why should I care what becomes 
 of them? 
 
 Everything is too horrid and too extraordinary to-day. 
 I got into the wrong side of bed last night, and got out 
 again on the wrong side this morning. It happened 
 to be the only side there was, as the bed stands against 
 the wall in an alcove, where it can't be pulled out; and 
 nobody could expect me to bound like a kangaroo over 
 the foot, could they? But there are times in life when 
 every side of everything is wrong; and this is one of 
 those times with me has been since dinner last night, 
 when Sir Lionel grinned with joy at the prospect of 
 shunting me upon the Tyndal family for a day. (When 
 you are friends with people they smile; when you are 
 x)ut with them, they grin.) 
 
 Well, this morning I thought I would n't hurry to get 
 276
 
 SET IN SILVER 277 
 
 down. I felt, if Mrs. Senter beamed at me from under 
 her becoming motor-hat at starting, I should do her a 
 mischief, and if Emily smirked inoffensively I should 
 throw Murray in her face. As for Sir Lionel words 
 fail to express what I believed myself capable of doing 
 to him. I could have stolen his car, in which he ap- 
 peared to grudge me a seat, and have gone off with it 
 into space to be a motor pirate. Whence can I have 
 inherited these vicious tendencies? Truly, I never 
 supposed I had them before; but you don't know your- 
 self until people have practically accused you of taking 
 up too much room in their old automobiles, although 
 you 're perfectly aware that you are less than eighteen 
 inches wide at your broadest part in your thickest frock, 
 and you thought they liked your society and kept your 
 gloves. In that mood I would n't have condescended 
 to see Apollo off if he 'd been twice a god, armed with 
 an invitation for me from Juno to a house-party on 
 Olympus. 
 
 No sooner, however, did I hear his dear familiar pun- 
 as he swept away from the door of the hotel (my balcony 
 is a corner one, and I could just catch the well-known 
 c-r-r-r) when I regretted intensely that I had n't been 
 en evidence, looking indifferent. Suddenly, I suffered 
 pangs of apprehension lest my stopping in my room 
 had seemed like (what it really was) a fit of the sulks; 
 but it was past repentance-time. Apollo was gone, 
 Mrs. Senter doubtless sitting by Sir Lionel's side as 
 usual, and probably commenting wittily on my silly 
 conduct. 
 
 The Tyndals told me last night that they meant to
 
 278 SET IN SILVER 
 
 start at ten, so I went downstairs five minutes before, 
 too late to have to wait about, too early to be called. I 
 expected to find them in the hall, and when they were n't 
 there, I strolled out to see if the motor had come to the 
 door, thinking they might be watching the loading up 
 of their luggage. As for mine, Apollo had taken it as 
 usual, except a pretty little fitted handbag, small and 
 wonderfully convenient, which Sir Lionel came across 
 in a shop and bought for me (I mean for Ellaline) at 
 Torquay. But there was n't a Tyndal in sight, and 
 not so much as the smell of a motor-car, so I wandered 
 inside and asked the handsome landlady, whom I met 
 near King Arthur's Round Table, whether she had 
 seen the Tyndal automobile or its owners. 
 
 "Why," said she, "they went off about ten minutes 
 ago." 
 
 "Went off where?" I asked blankly. 
 
 "To Bideford, I think they were going," she replied. 
 
 "That can 't be, for I was to have gone with them," 
 said I. 
 
 "Indeed?" exclaimed the landlady, polite but puzzled. 
 "I did n't know. I thought you had gone with your 
 own party. I was surprised to meet you here just now. 
 I 'm afraid there must have been some misunderstanding, 
 for certainly Mr. and Mrs. Tyndal and their young 
 cousin have really gone, because they bade me good- 
 bye here in the hall, and said they hoped to come back 
 some day." 
 
 She looked at me pityingly, and I felt exactly like 
 Robinson Crusoe before he knew there was going to be 
 a Friday; but, like him, I kept a stiff upper lip. I am
 
 SET IN SILVER 279 
 
 happy to say I even laughed. "Well, that 's very 
 funny," said I, as if being pigeon-holed by Sir Lionel 
 and marooned by the Tyndals was the most amusing 
 experience in the world, and I simply delighted in it. 
 "Of course, somebody or other will count noses and 
 miss me after a while. Then they '11 have to come back 
 and fetch me, I suppose." 
 
 "You could go on to Bideford by rail, if you liked," 
 the landlady informed me gratuitously. "There is a 
 train early this afternoon, and " 
 
 "Oh, I think I'd better wait here," I said. "If 
 they came back and found me gone, it would be too 
 complicated." 
 
 She agreed; but she little guessed how much more 
 complicated it would be to take a train for anywhere 
 without any pennies. If I had money, I would go to 
 you, and not to Bideford. At least, that is the way I 
 feel now; but I suppose I would n't, for my obligations 
 to Ellaline have n't snapped with the strain of the situa- 
 tion, although just at this moment they don't seem to 
 matter. It 's only deep down in my heart that I know 
 they do matter. 
 
 There is my scrape, dearest of women, and mamma 
 whom I would select if I were able to choose among 
 all eligible mothers since Eve, up to date. The situation 
 has n't changed in the least, to the time of writing, 
 except that it has lasted longer, and got frayed round the 
 edges. 
 
 I was paid for, including food and lodging, until after 
 breakfast. It is now half-past five o'clock P.M., pouring 
 with rain, howling with wind, and not only has nobody
 
 280 SET IN SILVER 
 
 come back to collect me, but nobody has telephoned or 
 telegraphed. I have eaten, or pretended to eat, a lunch- 
 eon, for which I have no money to pay. I refused tea, 
 but was so kindly urged that I had to reconsider; and 
 the buttered toast of servitude is at this moment sticking 
 in my throat, lodged on the sharp edge of an unuttered 
 sob. Your poor, forlorn little daughter! What is to 
 become of her? Will she have to go to the place of 
 unclaimed parcels ? Or will she be sold as bankrupt 
 stock ? Or will she become a kitchen-maid or "tweeny" 
 in King Arthur's Castle? But don't worry, darling. 
 I won't be such a beast as to post this letter till 
 something is settled, somehow, even if I have to rob the 
 hotel till. 
 
 There is nothing to do except write, for I can't com- 
 pose my mind to read; so I will continue recording my 
 emotions, as French criminals do when condemned 
 to death, or lovesick ladies when they have swallowed 
 slow poison. 
 
 5.50. Rain worse. Wind yelling imprecations. I 
 sit in the hall, as I can't call my room my own. New 
 people are arriving. They look Cook-ey, but are prob- 
 ably Countesses. I gaze at them haughtily, and try to 
 appear prosperous. I hope they think my mother, 
 the Duchess, is taking a nap in our magnificent suite 
 upstairs, while I write a letter to my godfather, the 
 Prince, to thank him for his birthday gift of a rope of 
 pearls which reaches to my knees. 
 
 6.15. The landlady has just been sympathizing with 
 me. She says there is a night train to Bideford. I 
 have poured cold water upon the night train to Bide-
 
 SET IN SILVER 281 
 
 ford, and came near pouring some hot tears on the time- 
 table she kindly brought me. 
 
 6.25. People are going up to dress for dinner. They 
 are God's creatures, but I do not love them. 
 
 6.40. The head-waiter has just fluttered up to ask 
 if I would like a smaller table for dinner. No table 
 would be too small for my appetite. I said 
 
 7.10. Darling, Sir Lionel has come back for me, 
 alone, dripping wet, and it was all a mistake, and he did 
 want me, and he 's furious with everybody in the world 
 except me, to whom he is perfectly adorable. And 
 I 'm afraid I adore him. And we 're starting at once, 
 when we 've had a sandwich and coffee can 't wait 
 for dinner. Everything is too nice. I '11 explain as soon 
 as I 've time to write. 
 
 Your Radiant Transformation Scene, 
 
 A.B.
 
 XXIV 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 The Luttrell Arms, Dunster 
 Aug. 18th 
 
 DUCK OF THE UNIVERSE: Five days since I wrote, 
 and it seems five minutes. But I did telegraph with 
 my last shilling; and even that would be rightfully Ella- 
 line's, if the labourer were n't worthy of his hire. 
 
 You see, after the letter I had from her in Torquay, 
 when she wanted money to go to Scotland with her new 
 friends, the McNamaras, I very reluctantly screwed 
 my courage to the asking point, and got more out of Sir 
 Lionel. If he were n't the most generous man in the 
 world he would have privately dubbed me "Oliver 
 Twist" by this time. Perhaps he has! But I trust 
 not. Anyhow, I shall get on without more requests, 
 I hope, until the next "allowance" day comes round; or 
 until every pin is lost and every hairpin has dropped out. 
 
 Because in the telegram I was forced to be economical, 
 and ran only to "All well. Love" ("much" scratched 
 out as an extravagance), I must now go back to the mo- 
 ment of Sir Lionel's unexpected, almost miraculous, 
 appearance at Tintagel. 
 
 There I was in the hall, scribbling dolefully about 
 my symptoms. "Teuf, teuf, teuf!" heard outside,
 
 SET IN SILVER 283 
 
 between screeches of wind. In bounces Sir Lionel, wet 
 as a merman, dripping rivulets at every step, splashing, 
 swashing in his boots, drops dripping from his eyelashes; 
 glares around, looking ready to bite someone's head off 
 without salt or sauce; sees me; brightens with a watery 
 gleam; comes toward me, rather shy and stiff, yet evi- 
 dently under the influence of emotion of some sort. 
 I did n't know whether to expect a scolding or a blessing, 
 so waited speechless. 
 
 "What a brute you must think me," was his first 
 remark. I drank it as a thirsty traveller lost on the 
 Sahara would bolt a pint of dew. 
 
 "I did n't know what to think," I replied conserva- 
 tively. "But you are wet, aren't you?" 
 
 "Am I?" he asked, mildly surprised. "I hadn't 
 noticed. I suppose I am. It 's raining." 
 
 "I should think it was," said I. And then we both 
 laughed. It is the nicest thing, to laugh with Sir Lionel! 
 Whatever he might have done against me, I forgave 
 him all instantly. 
 
 "Never mind whether I 'm wet or dry," he went on. 
 "Whichever I am, it won't hurt me. The only thing 
 that has hurt was thinking of you being here aban- 
 doned. By Jove! I 've been in a murderous mood!" 
 
 "A good thing you weren't back in Bengal," said I, 
 mildly. 
 
 He looked at me with a sharp look. "Who has been 
 telling you tales about me in Bengal?" 
 
 "I sometimes read newspapers," I explained. 
 
 "Schoolgirls have no business with newspapers. But 
 hang Bengal! I want to come to an understanding
 
 284 SET IN SILVER 
 
 with you. Is it true or is it not that you wanted to go 
 with the Tyndals in their motor to-day?" 
 
 "I wanted to, if you wanted me to." 
 
 "I did n't. I hated the idea. But, of course, if 
 you " 
 
 "I didn't. I hated the idea. But I thought your 
 motor was too full for such hilly country." 
 
 (Dearest, I longed to tell him who had said that he 
 had said, etc., etc.; but I 'd promised; and one must 
 keep one's promises even to Cats.) 
 
 "My dear child," Sir Lionel burst out, "little girls 
 should n't do too much independent thinking. It 's 
 bad for their health and their guardians' tempers. If 
 my motor had been too full for hilly country, you 
 would n't have been the Jonah to cast into the sea. 
 Nick would have been fed to the whales. But the idea 
 was ridiculous ridiculous ! " 
 
 I was so happy, I did n't even want to defend myself. 
 I understood most of the mystery now. I suppose it 's 
 a compliment to a girl if a woman of the world wants 
 to get rid of her. Anyhow, I consoled myself for hours 
 of misery by laying that flattering unction to my soul. 
 
 If I had liked, I could have unravelled the whole 
 tangle for Sir Lionel's still puzzled mind ; but if I had done 
 so, I should have been returning cat-claw for cat-claw; 
 so I pretended to be "lost in it, my lord"; and, indeed, 
 it was true that I could n't understand why the Tyndals 
 had failed me. 
 
 Sir Lionel explained that, just before reaching Bide- 
 ford the silencer worked loose, and so got upon Mrs. 
 Norton's nerves that Apollo was stopped in the pouring
 
 SET IN SILVER 285 
 
 rain for Young Nick to right the wrong. As if to prove 
 the truth of the proverb, "the more haste the less speed," 
 in his hurry poor Buddha burnt his hand. While he 
 was wringing it like a distracted goblin, along came the 
 Tyndal car, which had left Tintagel about half an hour 
 after Apollo. To Sir Lionel's amazement, no me! 
 Questions on his part; according to him, idiotic answers 
 on the part of the Tyndals. He had thought, of course, 
 I was going with them. They had thought that I 'd 
 changed my mind, and gone earlier with him. Every- 
 body confused, apologetic, repeating the same silly 
 excuses over and over, three or four times. Nobody 
 showing the slightest sign of having a remnant of common- 
 sense. 
 
 " By Jove ! I could have cheerfully executed the lot 
 of them all but the boy, who seemed to have some 
 glimmerings of sanity," grumbled Sir Lionel. "He 
 had wanted to run up and knock at your door, to make 
 sure you really had gone; but somebody he began 
 to say who, when Mrs. Tyndal stepped on his foot 
 forbade him to do it." 
 
 I think I can guess who the somebody was, can't 
 you ? Though I don't see what arguments she can 
 have used to persuade the really good-natured Tyndals 
 to abandon me. 
 
 The rest of the story is, that when Sir Lionel found 
 I had been left behind, he said he would at once turn 
 back and fetch me. Judging from one or two things 
 he let slip inadvertently, I fancy he wanted Emily to 
 come with him, but she drew the line at chaperoning in 
 wet weather, and missing her tea. She proposed tele-
 
 286 SETINSILVER 
 
 graphing for me to come on by rail. Sir Lionel would n't 
 hear of my making such a journey unaccompanied 
 me, a simple little French schoolgirl who had never 
 travelled alone in her life! Then Mrs. Senter, kind 
 creature, volunteered to be his companion, if he must 
 return; but Sir Lionel firmly refused the unselfish offer, 
 saying he would n't for the world put her to so much 
 unnecessary trouble. Nick he would have brought, 
 but the unfortunate brown image was suffering so much 
 pain from his burnt hand, that the only humane thing 
 to do was to drive him to a doctor's which was exactly 
 what Sir Lionel did. Rooms were already engaged at 
 the Royal Hotel; he dumped out Emily, Mrs. Norton, 
 and the luggage there; left Young Nick having his hand 
 treated; and without so much as crossing the threshold 
 of the hotel, turned Apollo's bright bonnet toward Tin- 
 tagel and me. Rain was coming down in floods. He 
 said nothing about that, but I knew. The storm drew 
 down twilight like the lid of a box; the road was deep 
 in mud; everything that could happen to delay the car 
 did happen; once Sir Lionel had to mend a tyre himself, 
 and almost wished he had n't made Young Nick dis- 
 gorge the stolen tool; he ought to have arrived at Tin- 
 tagel an hour before he did; but here he was at last. 
 And would I have a sandwich, and then start, or would 
 I prefer to wait for dinner? 
 
 I snatched at the sandwich idea, and his eye bright- 
 ened. He said he only looked wet, for everything was 
 waterproof, and he was "right as rain" which sounded 
 too appropriate to be comfortable 
 
 We ate as the Israelites of old in Passover days, figura-
 
 SETINSILVER 287 
 
 lively with our staves in our hands; at least, I had a bag 
 in mine, and Sir Lionel a road book, because he 'd lost 
 his way once in his haste, and did n't want to make 
 further mistakes. 
 
 By the time we were ready to start, it was as if Merlin 
 had woven an enchantment of invisibility, not only over 
 the castle ruins, but over the whole landscape, which was 
 blotted out behind a white avalanche of rain. The wind 
 howled, mingling with the boom of the sea; and alto- 
 gether it was such a bewitched, Walpurgis world that I 
 tingled with excitement. 
 
 Sir Lionel wanted to put me inside the car, but I 
 pleaded that I had been so lonely and sad all day, I 
 must be close to someone now. This plea instantly 
 broke down his determination, which had been very 
 square-chinned and firm till I happened to think of that 
 argument. 
 
 He knew my coat to be waterproof, because he chose 
 it himself in London, and I tied on a perfectly sweet 
 rain-hood, which I 'd never needed before, because 
 this was the only real storm we 'd had. It is a crimson 
 hood, and I knew I was nice in it, from the look of Sir 
 Lionel's eyes. 
 
 This was my first night run in the car, and the first 
 time since starting on the tour that I 'd sat on the front 
 seat by his side. Early as it was, it "made night," and 
 Sir Lionel lit the great lamps. Instantly it was as if a 
 curtain of darkness unrolled on either side, leaving 
 only the road clear and pale, spouting mud, and the 
 rain in front like a silver veil floating across black velvet. 
 I sat close to Sir Lionel. I can't tell you how good the
 
 288 SETINSILVER 
 
 sense of his nearness and protection was, and how glad 
 I felt to know that he had n't really wanted to send me 
 away from him. I would have given up anything no, 
 everything else in the world just then, for the sake of 
 that knowledge except, of course, your dear love. 
 We didn't talk much, but he is one of those men to 
 whom you don't need to talk. The silence was like that 
 unerring kind of speech when you can't say the wrong 
 thing if you try; and if Sir Lionel had said in the wind 
 and darkness: "I have got to drive the car into the sea, 
 and you and I must die together in five minutes," I 
 should have answered: "Very well. With you I 'm not 
 afraid." And it would have been true. 
 
 The hills looked stupendous before we quite came to 
 them; great bunchy black humps of night; but they 
 seemed to kneel like docile elephants as we drew near, 
 to let Apollo mount upon their backs. We passed 
 lovely old cottages, which in the strange white light of 
 our Bleriots looked flat, as stage scenery, against that 
 wide-stretched "back-cloth" of inky velvet. It was 
 like motoring in a dream one of those dreams born 
 before you 've quite dropped asleep, while your eyes 
 are still open. We tore through Boscastle, and on to 
 Bude, along an empty road, with the trees flying by like 
 torn black flags, and the rain giving a glimpse now and 
 then of tall cliffs, as its veil blew aside. I was never 
 so happy in my life, and when I just could n't help saying 
 so to Sir Lionel, what do you suppose he answered ? 
 "That 's exactly what I was thinking." And then he 
 added: "Good girl! Grand little sportswoman! I'm 
 proud of you!"
 
 SET IN SILVER 289 
 
 Presently, once in a while the dazzling radiance of our 
 lamps would die down and threaten to fail. At last 
 it did fail altogether, and we were blotted out in the 
 night, as if we had suddenly ceased to exist. "Carbide 
 all used up," explained Sir Lionel. By this time we 
 were near Hartland Point (the promontory of Hercules 
 for the ancients) and Sir Lionel said that the best thing 
 to do was to crawl on slowly until we should come to 
 Clovelly. There we could leave the car at the top of 
 the hill, go down to the village, rouse someone at a hotel, 
 get hot coffee, and wait until dawn, when the lamps 
 would no longer be needed. 
 
 We could distinguish nothing in the night, except 
 a glimmer of road between dark banks, until suddenly, 
 looking far down toward the moaning sea, we caught 
 sight of a few lights like yellow stars which seemed to 
 have been tossed over a precipice, and to have caught 
 on a steep hillside, as they rolled. "That 's Clovelly," 
 said Sir Lionel. He stopped the car on a kind of natural 
 plateau and lifted me lightly down, so that I should n't 
 splash into unseen abysses of mud. Apollo would be 
 safe there, he said, though in old days the folk of Clovelly 
 used to be not only desperate smugglers, but wreckers, 
 and would entice ships upon the rocks by means of lure- 
 lights. They were very different now, and as honest 
 and kind-hearted as any people in the world. 
 
 There was no dawn yet, but the wind had dropped 
 a little, and the long crystal spears of rain seemed to 
 bring with them an evanescent, ethereal glitter, reflected 
 from unseen stars above the clouds. The trembling 
 silver haze dimly showed us how to pick our way down
 
 290 SETINSILVER 
 
 a steep, narrow street of steps, over which fountains of 
 water played and swirled. There were lights of boats 
 in a little harbour, far, far below, and the extraordinary 
 village of tiny white houses appeared to have tumbled 
 down hill, like a broken string of pearls fallen from a 
 goddess's neck. 
 
 Sir Lionel held my arm to keep me from tripping, 
 and we descended the steps slowly, the rain that sprayed 
 against our faces smelling salt as the sea, its briny "tang" 
 mingling with the fragrance of honeysuckle and fuchsias. 
 The combination, distilled by the night, was intoxicating; 
 and if I ever smell it again, even at the other end of the 
 world, my thoughts will run back to Sir Lionel and the 
 fairy village of Clovelly. 
 
 Half-way down the cleft in the cliff, which is Clovelly's 
 one. street, we stopped at a house where a faint light 
 burned sleepily. It was the New Inn, and when Sir 
 Lionel knocked loudly, I was doubtful as to the recep- 
 tion we were likely to have at such an hour. But I 
 need n't have worried in Devon ! Even if you wake 
 people out of pleasant dreams to disagreeable realities, 
 and demand coffee, and trail wet marks over their clean 
 floors, they are kind and friendly. A delightful man 
 let us in, and instead of scolding, pitied us a great deal 
 more than I, at any rate, needed to be pitied. He lit 
 lights, and we saw a quaint room, whose shadows threw 
 out unexpected gleams of polished brass, and blues 
 and pinks of old china. 
 
 Though the calendar said August 13th, the tempera- 
 ture talked it down, and insisted on November, so an 
 invitation into a clean, warm kitchen was acceptable.
 
 SET IN SILVER 291 
 
 The nice man poked up the dying fire, put on wood and 
 coals, and soon got a kettle of water to boiling. We 
 should have some good hot coffee, he cheerily promised, 
 before we could say "Jack Robinson." But when it 
 leaked out that we had had no dinner except a sandwich 
 at Tintagel, and nothing since, his warm Devonshire 
 heart yearned over us; and to the hot coffee he added 
 eggs and bacon. 
 
 While the dear things fizzled and bubbled, we were 
 allowed to sit by the stove and toast our feet; and if any- 
 thing could have smelled more heavenly than the salt 
 rain and sweet honeysuckle out of doors, it would have 
 been the eggs and bacon in the New Inn kitchen. 
 
 We begged to eat in the kitchen, too, and even that 
 was permitted us, at a table spread with a clean cloth 
 which must have been put away in a lavender cupboard. 
 By the time the coffee, with foaming hot milk, and the 
 sizzling eggs and bacon were ready, the early daylight 
 was blue on the window panes. The rain had stopped 
 with the first hint of sunrise, and in Clovelly at least 
 (Clovelly means "shut in valley," a name not worthy 
 of its elfin charm) the wind had gone to sleep. 
 
 I don't know how much Sir Lionel suggested paying 
 for that breakfast, but it must have been something 
 out of the way, for our Devonshire benefactor protested 
 that it was far too much. He would accept the regular 
 price, and no more. Why, we had only got him up an 
 hour before his usual time. That was nothing. It 
 would do him good; and he would have no extra pay. 
 
 Warm, comfortable, and refreshed, Sir Lionel and I 
 bade our host good-bye, meaning to continue our
 
 292 SET IN SILVER 
 
 journey to Bideford; but what we saw outside was too 
 beautiful to turn our backs upon in that unappreciative, 
 summary fashion. It was not sunrise yet, but was 
 just going to be sunrise, and the world seemed to be 
 waiting for it, hushed and expectant. 
 
 The white village glimmered in the pearly light, like 
 a waterfall arrested in its rush down a cleft in a hill. 
 Not having seen Clovelly, you may think that a far- 
 fetched simile; but really it is n't. If a young cataract 
 could be turned into a village, that would be Clovelly. 
 The marvellous little place is absolutely unique; yet 
 if one could liken it to anything else on earth, it might 
 be to a corner of Mont St. Michel, or a bit of old Bel- 
 lagio, going down to the sea; and certainly it is more 
 Italian than English in atmosphere and colouring, only 
 it is perfectly clean, as clean as a toy, or a Dutch village ; 
 so that part of the "atmosphere" isn't entirely Italian! 
 I even saw waste-paper pots; and if that is n't like Broek 
 in Waterland, what is? Down in the harbour, the fish- 
 ing boats lay like a flock of resting birds; and as we 
 descended the cobbled steps of the street, to go to the 
 shore, the early morning donkeys began to come up, 
 laden with heavy bags and panniers, just as you and 
 I saw them in Italy, and driven by just such boys and 
 old men as I remember there, dark-eyed, picturesque, one 
 or two with red caps. The doors of the little low-browed 
 houses huddled on either side opened here and there, 
 up and down the path, giving glimpses of pretty, neat 
 interiors; bits of old furniture, the glint of a copper 
 kettle, a brass jug, or a bit of mended blue china. A 
 gossipy Devonshire cat came out and begged for caresses,
 
 SET IN SILVER 293 
 
 mewing the news of the night such a chatty creature ! 
 and down on the beach, we made friends with the oldest 
 man of the village, born in 1816. He was a hand- 
 some old fellow, with pathetic, faded eyes in a tanned, 
 ruddy face; and the queer little harbour (everything 
 is little at Clovelly, except the inhabitants) with its rustic 
 sort of pier, and red-sailed fishing boats, looked as if 
 it had been designed entirely as a background for him. 
 However, it 's much more antique even than he 
 six hundred years old, instead of something short of 
 a hundred, and made by the famous Carey family. We 
 stopped there talking to the ancient sailor-man, hearing 
 how the Clovelly fishermen go out with black nets by 
 day in good weather, and at night with white ones, to 
 "attract the fish." "That is trew, Miss," said he, 
 when I laughed, thinking it a joke. I love the Devon- 
 shire way of saying "true," and other words that rhyme. 
 Their soft voices are as gentle, as kindly, as the murmur 
 of their own blue sea. 
 
 As we mounted the ladder-like path to the top of 
 Clovelly, to go back to Apollo again, the sun came up 
 out of the sea, where the blue line of water marked the 
 edge of the world, and spilt floods of gold over it, like 
 a tilted christening cup. We turned and stood still to 
 watch the day born of dawn; and I feel sure that if we 
 had come to Clovelly to spend several weeks, I could 
 never have learned to know the place as I had divined 
 it, in this adventure. You seem to learn more about 
 a flower by inhaling its perfume after rain, don't you 
 think, than by dissecting it, petal by petal? I fancy 
 there is something like that in getting the feeling and
 
 294 SET IN SILVER 
 
 impression of places at their best, by sudden 
 revelations. Of course, I want to go back to Clovelly, 
 but not with any of the Mrs. Nortons of the world. I 
 could n't bear to do that, after being alone there with 
 Sir Lionel. While one's heart is thrilled by exquisite 
 sights, and the ineffable thoughts born of them, one knows 
 poor Emily is wondering whether the servants are looking 
 after things properly at home; and that very knowledge 
 is apt to slam down an iron shutter in one's soul. 
 
 It must have been about five o'clock when we took 
 our places in the car again. We had only eleven miles' 
 run to Bideford, and I wished them twice eleven, 
 for surely they are among the most beautiful miles in 
 England. No wonder people believe in fairies in this 
 part of the world! It would be ungrateful if they did n't. 
 As the sun climbed, the brown wood roads were inlaid 
 with gold in wavy patterns. From our heights, now 
 and again we caught glimpses of Clovelly, down its 
 deep ravines. The Hobby Drive, which belongs to 
 Clovelly Court, is almost more exquisite than Buck- 
 land Chase, on the way to Dartmoor; if you had been 
 there with me, you would know I could n't give it higher 
 praise. And how I wish you had been! How I wish 
 you could see these English woods! They have such 
 an air of dainty gaiety, very different from Austrian or 
 German or French forests; and though their elms and 
 oaks and beeches are often giants, they seem dedicated 
 to the spirit of youth. Their shadows are never black, 
 but only a darker green, or translucent gray; and part 
 of their charm is a nymph-like frivolousness which comes, 
 I think, from their ruffly green dessous. Other woods
 
 SET IN SILVER 295 
 
 have no dessous. Their ankles are mournfully bare, 
 and their stockings dark. 
 
 In the woods of the Hobby Drive, the bracken was 
 like elfin plumes; each stone, wrapped in moss, was a 
 lump of silver coated with verdigris; distant cliffs seen 
 between the trees were cut out of gray-green jade, 
 against a sea of changing opal; and in the high minstrel- 
 galleries of the latticed beeches a concert of birds was 
 fluting. 
 
 Is n't Gallantry Bower a fine name ? At first thought 
 it would appear an inappropriate one, for it 's a sheer 
 cliff overlooking the sea on one side and a vast sweep 
 of woodland on the other; but I can make it seem appro- 
 priate, by picturing some wild brave sailor making love 
 to his sweetheart there, and telling her about the sea, 
 her only rival in his love. No doubt it 's a corruption 
 of some old Cornish name, and I refuse to accept it as 
 a Lover's Leap, though such a legend has grown up 
 around it. I 'm tired of Lover's Leaps. 
 
 The whole coast, as we swept round, was a vast 
 golden sickle in the early morning light; and everything 
 was so beautiful that the door of my heart swung wide 
 open. No arm would have been strong enough to push 
 it shut, not even Mrs. Senter's. Instead of feeling 
 angry with her, as we drew near Bideford, I was grateful 
 for the adventure she had (indirectly) given me. 
 
 The servants of the Royal Hotel were just waking up, 
 but, of course, being Devonshire people, instead of 
 being cross they were delightfully good-natured and 
 smiling. I was shown to a pleasant room, and provided 
 with a hot bath which (with nearly a whole bottle of
 
 296 SET IN SILVER 
 
 eau de Cologne extravagantly emptied into it) made me 
 feel as if I had had a refreshing eight hours' sleep. 
 Already it seemed as if the night's experience had been 
 a dream, dreamed in that sleep. But I was glad, glad 
 it was real, and not a dream; something I had lived 
 through, by Sir Lionel's side; a clear memory to remain 
 like a happy island in the sea of life whatever the future 
 weather. 
 
 I dressed slowly, not wanting even "forty winks"; 
 and about eight o'clock Emily knocked at my door. 
 She had been worried, she said, and not able to sleep, 
 fearing accidents, waking now and then, to listen for 
 the sound of a car. Poor dear, she would n't know 
 Apollo's noble voice from the threepenny thrum of a 
 motor bicycle! But she was kind and solicitous, though 
 I think a little shocked to find my vitality in such a state 
 of effervescence. She would have approved of me if I 
 had been a draggled wreck; but even as it was, she felt 
 it worth while to explain why she had n't accompanied 
 her brother. She would have proposed doing so, she 
 assured me, but her neuralgia had been very trying 
 yesterday, owing to the bad weather and east wind. 
 She feared to be more trouble than assistance to Sir 
 Lionel, and as he was my guardian, I was sufficiently 
 chaperoned by him; any expert in etiquette would con- 
 firm her in that opinion, she anxiously added. Never- 
 theless, when I told her about our stop at Clovelly, 
 she shook her head, and intimated that perhaps it 
 had better not be referred to in public. I suppose 
 by "in public," she meant before the Tyndals and 
 Mrs. Senter.
 
 SET IN SILVER 297 
 
 At nine I had the pleasure of meeting the fair Gwen- 
 dolen again, in one of the most remarkakle rooms you 
 can imagine. Sir Lionel had engaged it in advance, 
 to be our private sitting-room, but it is as celebrated 
 as it is interesting. Only think, Charles Kingsley wrote 
 "Westward Ho!" in it, and it is such a quaint and beau- 
 tiful room, it must have given him inspiration. You 
 see, the hotel used to be the house of a merchant prince 
 who was a great importer of tobacco in Queen Eliza- 
 beth's days; so it is n't strange that it should have many 
 fine rooms; but the one where Kingsley wrote is the best. 
 It 's sad that the oak panelling should be ruined with 
 paint and varnish; but nothing short of an earthquake 
 could spoil the ceiling, which is the famous feature. 
 The merchant prince hired two Italians to come to 
 England and make the wonderful mouldings by hand. 
 That was long before the days of cement, so the fan- 
 tastic shapes had to be fastened to each other and the 
 ceiling with copper wire. When the skilled workmen 
 had finished their fruits and flowers and leaves, and 
 all the weird fancies which signified the evolution of 
 Man, the canny merchant prince promptly packed the 
 Italians back again to their native land, lest other merchant 
 princes should employ them to repeat the marvellous 
 ceiling for their houses! By this thoughtful act, he 
 secured for himself the one and only specimen of the kind; 
 and to this day nobody has ever been able to copy it, 
 though the attempt has often been made. The mar- 
 vellous part is the startlingly high relief of the mouldings, 
 and the quaintness of the evolutionary ideas, all those 
 centuries before Darwin.
 
 298 SETINSILVER 
 
 It was rather disappointing to find out that the beau- 
 tiful ceiling had nothing to do with Charles Kingsley's 
 wish to use the room as a study. It was in the time 
 of the present landlord's grandfather, who owned a quan- 
 tity of rare old books, records of Bideford's past, and 
 Mr. Kingsley wanted to refer to them. But their owner 
 valued them too much to lend, even to such a man as 
 Charles Kingsley. "You must come and write in 
 the room," said he. So Kingsley came and wrote in 
 the room, and liked it and the books so much that he 
 gave a glowing account of both to Froude, who presently 
 arrived and used the remarkable room for his study, too. 
 
 The books are there still, carefully put away; and 
 a portrait of the good Mayor of Westward Ho ! (the novel, 
 not its namesake town) which was found in the cellar 
 with Vandyck's name faintly traced on it, hangs oppo- 
 site the fireplace. The great treasure of the room, 
 though, after the ceiling, is a letter from Kingsley, framed, 
 protected with glass, and lying on a table. 
 
 Mrs. Senter looked almost green, when she beheld 
 me, the picture of health and joy, and saw on what good 
 terms I was with Sir Lionel. I am certain, dear, that 
 she wants to marry him, and I can't think she 's capable 
 of appreciating such a man, so it must be for his money. 
 A "sportin', huntin', don't-you-know what?" sort of 
 fellow would please her better, if all else were suitable, 
 because she could turn him round her finger; and that 
 neither she nor anybody else can ever do with Sir Lionel 
 though he is pathetically chivalrous where women 
 are concerned, and still more pathetically credulous. 
 
 I remember so well your reading "Westward Ho!"
 
 SET IN SILVER 299 
 
 aloud to me when I was about ten, and had been ill. 
 I associate it with the joy of getting well. It made me 
 feel proud of my Devonshire ancestors, even then, and 
 it makes me more proud now, for I 've been reading 
 the book for the second time, in Kingsley-land. It 's 
 like the Bible almost, in Bideford. I should pity the 
 person who dared pick a flaw in the story, in the hearing 
 of a Bideford man, woman, or child. Why, I believe even 
 a Bideford dog would understand the insult, and snap! 
 It 's a great, and rather original compliment to name 
 a town in honour of a book; but "Westward Ho!" the 
 novel, is worthy of a finer namesake. Of course, Rud- 
 yard Kipling having been to school in Westward Ho! 
 makes the place more interesting than it ever could 
 have been of itself, in spite of its glorious neighbour, 
 the sea. But Bideford is a delightful place. Dad used 
 to say that no men in the world could beat the men 
 of Devon for courage; and that Bideford men were 
 amongst the bravest of all, as you and I would have 
 known from " Westward Ho ! " even if we 'd never read 
 history. It looks an old-world town, almost unspoiled, 
 even now, with its far-famed bridge on twenty-four arches, 
 its steeply sloping streets, its quay, and its quaint pink 
 and green houses by the river. In the Old Ship Tavern 
 "The Brotherhood of the Rose" was founded (you 
 remember), and Sir Richard Grenville dear Sir 
 Richard! had his house where the Castle Inn stands 
 now. I took a long walk with Sir Lionel and (I am 
 sorry to say) Mrs. Senter, on the Quay along the river- 
 side; and there are some guns there, which they say 
 were lost from the Spanish Armada.
 
 300 SETINSILVER 
 
 While we were walking, who should join us but Dick 
 Burden, back from Scotland! It appears that he 
 arrived at Tintagel last night, only a little while after 
 Sir Lionel and I had left in the car. He expected to 
 be earlier, but he took cross-country trains which looked 
 promising on time-tables, and missed connection. I 
 can't be thankful enough he did n't arrive before we 
 started, instead of after, for, of course, Sir Lionel would 
 have had to ask him to come with us, and that would 
 have spoiled everything. There would have been no 
 beautiful "memory island" in my sea! Do you know, 
 I had almost forgotten Dick for two or three days ? 
 He seemed to have gone out of my life, as if he had 
 never been in, and it was quite a mental shock to meet 
 him on the quay at Bideford. He did n't seem to be 
 in the picture at all, whereas Sir Lionel is always in it, 
 whatever or whenever it may be. 
 
 We (Sir Lionel and I) asked politely for his mother's 
 health, and he answered, apparently without thinking, 
 "Mother? oh, she's all right." Then he evidently 
 remembered that he 'd been sent for because she was 
 ill, and had the grace to look ashamed of his hard- 
 heartedness. He explained that when he arrived, he 
 found her already better, though nervous, and that she 
 was "practically cured." But I saw him and his aunt 
 exchange a look. I wonder if it meant that the mother 
 has any weird sort of disease contagious, perhaps? 
 I do hope it is n't anything I have n't had. It would 
 be so awkward to come down with it now; though the 
 sight of Dick with mumps, for instance, would repay 
 me for a good deal.
 
 SET IN SILVER 301 
 
 Mrs. Senter's room at Bideford adjoined mine, with 
 a (locked) door between; and that night, for half an 
 hour after I 'd gone to bed I heard a murmur of voices, 
 hers and Dick's. They seemed to be tremendously in 
 earnest about something. Luckily, I could n't hear a word 
 they said; otherwise I should have had the bother of 
 stopping my ears; but I could n't help knowing that 
 there was a heated argument, Aunt Gwen protesting, 
 Nephew Dick insisting; and, after stress and storm, a final 
 understanding arrived at which apparently satisfied both 
 
 Such a splendid road it was, going out of Bideford, 
 with views of sea and river, the distant shore levels 
 indigo, and a fiery golden light, like spilt sherry, on the 
 livid green of the salt-paled grass. The sails of fishing 
 boats from Instow rose from dark, ruffled waters, white 
 as lily petals; and out of heavy purple clouds, poured 
 streams of flaming light, as if bags loaded with gold 
 dust had burst with their own weight. Long sand flats 
 gleamed red as coral with some low-growing sea plant; 
 and the backs of wind-blown leaves on bush and hedge 
 were all dull silver, under the shadows of racing clouds, 
 that tore at thousand horse-power speed over golden 
 meadows. It was an extraordinary, but thoroughly Eng- 
 lish effect; and is n't it sad, the grazing cows and sheep 
 we passed never once looked up or cared! 
 
 But the people the charming peasants of Devon 
 cared. They looked up, and smiled at their sky, as if 
 it gave them good thoughts; and everyone on foot or 
 in waggon was so polite to us, flashing such kind looks 
 from beautiful eyes, that we had the sensation of tasting 
 honey. It kept us busy, returning the bows of the
 
 302 SET IN SILVER 
 
 handsome, courteous people, and, altogether, it was 
 like a royal progress. Poor Apollo is n't used to such 
 treatment, out of Devonshire and Cornwall, I can tell 
 you! He always does his best to be considerate, yet 
 he is often misunderstood, being nothing but a motor- 
 car, whom nobody loves! It was a joy to see merry 
 Devonshire children flinging themselves into our dust, 
 as if it were perfumed spray, and playing that they, 
 too, were motor-cars. Such a nice change after some 
 counties where we had behaved beautifully without 
 any appreciation, to feel that for once we gave pleasure 
 to some one, as we passed in and out of their obscure 
 little lives! 
 
 The wind was laden with the scent of honeysuckle, 
 and the sweet, yellow hay, which blew out of high-piled 
 carts to twine like gold webbing on flowery hedges and 
 on the crimson hollyhocks that rose like straight, tall 
 flames against whitewashed walls. 
 
 Even the droves of sheep we met were more polite 
 than non-Devonshire sheep, for instead of blocking 
 our way obstinately, keeping just in front so that we 
 could pass on neither side, they thoughtfully charged 
 into village inns and cottage gardens. But, of course, 
 you can't expect pink sheep to act like ordinary mutton- 
 hood. These Devonshire creatures look exactly like a 
 lot of pink wool mats blowing away. Probably they 
 are "pixie led," for Devonshire simply swarms with 
 pixies. If you are a human being, and happen to put 
 your stockings on wrong side out, they get power over 
 you at once. But I don't know what the trick is, if 
 you are a sheep.
 
 SET IN SILVER 303 
 
 We ran above a great ravine at Barnstaple, and the 
 scene was so fine, that I gave mental thanks to the 
 glaciers which, in the ice age, had so tastefully scooped 
 out all this down-country into graceful curves and 
 majestic cliffs. After leaving the sea behind us we were 
 ringed in, swallowed up among lovely, gracious hills, 
 which hid the world from us us from the world. For 
 miles upon miles, a snake-like road writhed smoothly 
 down the sides of these hills, until at last, after a wildly 
 exhilarating run we found ourselves in a peaceful green 
 valley. The Hobby Drive was no more beautiful, and 
 not half so exciting; but by now we were coming to the 
 Switzerland of England. As we sped on, great downs 
 rolled up behind us, and towered above our heads like 
 the crests of huge green waves at breaking point. Even 
 the sky suited itself to the country here, forming bigger, 
 more tumbled clouds than elsewhere; and to my sur- 
 prise I saw American goldenrod, such as I used to 
 gather as a child, growing, quite at home, among yellow 
 ox-eyed daisies. 
 
 There was a tremendous hill, wriggling down with 
 wicked twists to Lynton, and in the middle we met a 
 car that had torn off all its tyres. Sir Lionel asked 
 if we could do anything, but the chauffeur was so dis- 
 gusted with life that, though he snapped out "No, thank 
 you," his eyes said "Damn!" 
 
 At Lynton we stopped at a hotel like an exaggerated, 
 glorified cottage, with a thatched roof and a veranda 
 running all round. It stands in a big, perfumed garden, 
 and from the windows and that quaint stone-paved 
 veranda you can look over the sea to the Welsh coast,
 
 304 SET IN SILVER 
 
 whence, at evening, two blazing eyes of light watch you 
 across the blue water. 
 
 Sir Lionel had meant to stay only one night at the 
 Cottage Hotel, but Lynton was beautiful, with a siren 
 beauty, that would not let us go. Even his resolution 
 was n't proof against its witchery. So we stopped two 
 whole days, going "downstairs" (as I called it) to Lyn- 
 mouth, to see the old Shelley Cottage and lots of other 
 things. But oh, what a road from Lynton! If a young 
 fly, when its mother takes it for its first walk down a 
 wall, feels as I did, crawling to Lynmouth, both brakes 
 on, I pity it. I was n't exactly frightened, for I never 
 could be, quite, with Sir Lionel driving, but I was 
 prickly with awe. It was a good thing Emily did n't 
 go with us. I believe her poor little pin-cushion heart 
 would have burst in sheer fright, and all the sawdust 
 would have trickled out. I laughed hysterically, when 
 I saw a motor garage at the bottom. It ought to be a 
 motor hospital, for few cars can get down unscathed, 
 I should think. Afterward, when we were safely up 
 again, Sir Lionel said that, if he had known what it was 
 really like he would n't have taken Mrs. Senter and me 
 in the car, but would have had us go in Sir George 
 Newnes's lift. Not that he did n't trust Apollo, but 
 he confessed to being uncomfortable for us. I will 
 say that Mrs. Senter behaved well, however, and never 
 emitted one squeak, though her complexion looked when 
 we arrived at Lynmouth as if she had been on a tossing 
 ship for weeks. 
 
 Up at Lynton, the great thing to do, is to walk along 
 the edge of the sea cliff to the Valley of Rocks (a kind
 
 SET IN SILVER 305 
 
 of nature museum for statues and busts of Titans), 
 locked in between Castle Rock and the Devil's Cheese- 
 wring. It is a startlingly magnificent walk, but when 
 you are actually in the Valley of Rocks, it is n't quite 
 so wonderful as when seen from a distance; the arena 
 itself is rather like the backyard of the gods, where 
 they threw their broken mead-cups. I had a queer 
 feeling of having been there before, which I could n't 
 understand for a minute, until a scene in "Lorna Doone" 
 flashed back to me. And a young maid in the hotel 
 firmly believes that many of the fantastic shapes of 
 rock were once people who (according to an old story), 
 were turned into stone for behaving irreligiously on 
 Sundays. 
 
 Yesterday morning we said good-bye to Lynton, and 
 Sir Lionel, Dick, Mrs. Senter, and I walked to Waters- 
 meet, Emily going along the upper road in the car with 
 Young Nick, whose hand was well enough to drive. 
 I don't know whether Dad ever talked to you about 
 Watersmeet; but I 'm surprised if he did n't, because 
 not only is it one of the very most beautiful beauty spots 
 of Devon, but not far beyond, on the way to Exmoor, 
 is Brendon, our name place. 
 
 You can guess without my telling, why Watersmeet 
 is called Watersmeet: and it is the most musical meeting 
 you can imagine; rocks on one side, a wooded hill on the 
 other, and down below, the singing river. We walked 
 along an exquisite low-lying path from Watersmeet, 
 and all about I saw the name of Brendon: Brendon 
 village; Brendon forge, and other Brendons. I was 
 so excited that I forgot the Lethbridge episode, and
 
 306 SET IN SILVER 
 
 was on the point of exclaiming to Sir Lionel "How 
 interesting to come on father's ancestral home!" I 
 wonder what would have happened if I had ? I should 
 have had to try and blunder out of the scrape somehow, 
 with Dick's eyes on me, sparkling with mischief, and 
 Mrs. Senter critical. 
 
 I forgot to tell you that the Tyndals left us at Bide- 
 ford, having no excuse to cling, even if they wanted to, 
 because they had "done" Exmoor already; but since 
 the evening when Mrs. Tyndal tried to pump me about 
 Venice, dear Gwendolen has been restless and suspicious. 
 She can't suspect the truth, of course, unless Dick has 
 told her, which I 'm sure he has n't (for his own sake), 
 but she suspects something. She has a common enough 
 mind to spring to some horrid conclusion, such as my 
 having been secretly in Venice with objectionable people. 
 Perhaps she thinks me privately married ! I 'm sure 
 she 'd be delighted if that were the truth, because then 
 Dick and Sir Lionel would both be safe. 
 
 As we walked, Dick kept trying to get me far enough 
 away from the others to tell me some news, which he 
 hurriedly whispered was important. But even if I 'd 
 wanted to give him a chance, which I did n't, fate would 
 have denied it to him. 
 
 At Rockford Inn we took to the motor again, rinding 
 Emily limp after what she considered appalling hills; 
 but I 'm sure they were nothing to the Lynton-Lynmouth 
 one, as this time Apollo himself had been sent down 
 in the big lift. 
 
 Now we were coming to Doone-land; and I was all 
 eagerness to see it, because of "Lorna Doone," and
 
 SETINSILVER 307 
 
 because of things I 'd heard from Sir Lionel, as we 
 walked side by side for a few minutes after Watersmeet. 
 I had supposed that if there were any foundation for 
 the Doone story, it was as slight as the "fabric of a 
 dream"; but he told me of a pamphlet he had read, 
 "A Short History of the Original Doones," by a Miss 
 Ida or Audrie Browne, only about eight or nine years 
 ago. She said it was extraordinary how well the author 
 of "Lorna" had known all the traditions of her family 
 for she was one of the Doones; and that there really 
 was a Sir Ensor, a wild rebellious son of an Earl of 
 Moray, who travelled with his wife to Exmoor, and 
 settled there, in a rage because the king would give 
 him no redress against his elder brother. 
 
 "How does she spell her name of Audrie?" I asked, 
 trying to look more good and innocent than Eve could 
 possibly have been even in pre-serpentine days. 
 
 "A-u-d-r-i-e," he answered, and I trusted that Dick 
 was too far behind to hear what we were saying. "That 
 was the favourite name for girls in the Doone family," 
 Sir Lionel went on. "Miss Browne thinks Sir Ensor 
 and his wife must have crossed the Quantocks coming 
 here, and have taken a fancy to the name of West Quan- 
 toxhead's patron saint, Audrie, also spelled that way." 
 
 "It 's rather a pretty name," I ventured, feeling pink. 
 
 "One of the prettiest in the world," said Sir Lionel. 
 I was pleased though I ought to have been bowed 
 down with the burden of borrowed guilt. 
 
 There was a bad motor road from Oare to the gateway 
 of the moor, but Apollo did n't mind, though I think 
 he was glad to stop outside Malmsmead Farm, where
 
 308 SETINSILVER 
 
 we had lunch. I suppose you can't expect such modern 
 creatures as motors and chauffeurs, especially Bengali 
 ones, to appreciate farmhouses seven hundred years 
 old! I loved the place, though, and so did Sir Lionel. 
 Nothing ever tasted better than the rosy ham, the crisp 
 cottage bread, the thick cream, and wild honey the farm 
 people gave us. And the honey smelt like the moor, 
 which has just as individual and haunting a fragrance 
 as Dartmoor, though different. 
 
 After lunch I wanted to see the Doone Valley, and 
 the ruins of the Doone houses (which, by the way, my 
 namesake Miss Browne says were not the Doone houses, 
 but only the huts where the brigand-band used to keep 
 stolen cattle), so Sir Lionel said I must have a pony. 
 I was n't tired, though he thought I ought to be, after 
 our walk; but the idea of riding a rough Exmoor pony 
 was great fun, and I did n't object. Sir Lionel asked 
 Mrs. Senter (who had been making fun of the Doone 
 story at lunch) rather coolly if she would care to go, 
 too; and to his evident surprise, though not at all to 
 mine, she instantly said she would. 
 
 They have several ponies at the farm, and Sir Lionel 
 hired two, he and Dick meaning to walk, and Emily 
 intending to stop in the farm sitting room nodding 
 over the visitors' book, full of interesting names, no doubt. 
 
 No sooner had our dear, roughly fringed little beasts 
 been saddled, and we swung on to their backs, than 
 there arose a great hue and cry in the farmyard. The 
 stag hunt was passing! 
 
 Such an excitement you never saw. Nobody would 
 have thought the same thing had happened many times
 
 SETINSILVER 309 
 
 a year, for generations. The big, good-natured farmer 
 raced about, waving his arms, and adjuring us to 
 "Coom on!" The postman darted by on his bicycle, 
 forgetful of letters, thinking only of the stag; pretty 
 girls from the neighbouring Badgeworthy Farm, and 
 Lorna Doone Farm tore up a hill, laughing and scream- 
 ing. "They 'm found! They 'm found!" yelled the 
 farm hands. Everybody shouted. Everybody ran, or 
 at least danced up and down; and wilder than all was 
 the joy of our Exmoor ponies, Mrs. Senter's and mine. 
 
 They did n't intend to let the hunt go by without 
 them, the stanch little sporting beasts! We hadn't 
 the least idea what they meant to do, or perhaps just 
 perhaps! we might have stopped them; but before 
 Mrs. Senter and I knew what was happening to us, 
 off we dashed on pony-back after the hunt. 
 
 I laughed so much I could hardly keep my seat, but I 
 did somehow, though not very gracefully, and in about 
 five minutes Sir Lionel's long legs had enabled him to 
 catch my little monster, which he grabbed by the reins 
 and stopped, before we 'd got mixed up with the stag- 
 hounds. Dick was slower about rescuing his aunt, 
 because his legs are shorter than Sir Lionel's; and 
 her pony had not the pleasant disposition of mine, 
 Dick vowed afterward that it spit at him. 
 
 After reading "Lorna" the Doone Valley looked rather 
 too gentle, with its grassy slopes, to be satisfactory to 
 my brigand-whetted mind; and the ruins of the Doone 
 houses would have been disappointing, too, if it had n't 
 been for Miss Audrie Browne's tale of the distant dwell- 
 ings, in the Weir Water Valley; but I liked hearing
 
 310 SET IN SILVER 
 
 that all the hills have names of their own, and that you 
 can be sure you are not going to fall into a treacherous 
 bog, if only you see a sprig of purple heather a good, 
 honest plant, which hates anything secret. Our ponies 
 did n't need the heather signal, though; they shied 
 away from bogs as if by instinct, they knew the moor 
 so well. If we had stumbled into a pitfall, our only hope 
 would have been to lie quite flat, and crawl along the 
 surface with the same motion that you make in swim- 
 ming. 
 
 It was late afternoon by the time we had seen all that 
 the ponies wanted us to see of the Doone Valley, and 
 then our way led us back to Lynmouth, by the appalling 
 Countisbury Hill; on to Parracombe, Blackmore Gate, 
 Challacombe, romantic little Simonsbath (sacred to 
 the memory of Sigmund the dragon-slayer, and two 
 outlaws, of whom Tom Faggus, of the "Strawberry 
 horse," was one), and pretty, historic Exford, and so 
 to Dunster. A beautiful road it was to the eye, but not 
 always to the tyre, and half the hills of England seemed 
 to have lined up in a procession. But Apollo smiled 
 in his bonnet at them all, and appeared rather pleased 
 than otherwise to show what he could do. 
 
 When we came into Dunster it was almost dark 
 just the beautiful hour when the air seems to have turned 
 blue, a deep, clear azure; and of all the quaintly pictur- 
 esque places we have seen, I know at first glimpse that 
 Dunster would turn out to be the best. Some towns, 
 like some people, introduce themselves to you in a 
 friendly, charming way, with no chill reserve, as if they 
 were sure you deserved to see their best side. It 's
 
 SETINSILVER 311 
 
 like that with Dunster, anyhow when you arrive in a 
 motor, and the first thing you see is the ancient Yarn 
 Market, wooden, octagonal, perfect. Then before you 
 have recovered from the effect of that, and the general 
 unspoiledness of everything, you come to the stone 
 porch of the Luttrell Arms Inn ; old and grim, with open- 
 ings for crossbows with which I suppose the Abbots 
 of Cleve must have had to defend themselves, because 
 the house once belonged to them. 
 
 If you could see no other town but Dunster, it would 
 be worth while coming across seas to England. But 
 I suppose I 've said that about other places, haven 't I ? 
 Well, I can 't help it if I have. Dunster is absolutely 
 perfect not one false note struck in the quaint music 
 of its antiquity. 
 
 Our sitting room was the Abbot's refectory, splendid 
 with black oak beams, and a noble ceiling. Its diamond- 
 paned windows look into a wonderful courtyard, where 
 you expect to see monks walking, or perhaps cavaliers; 
 and on the hill above the garden, there are earthworks 
 thrown up by Oliver Cromwell's army during the siege 
 of Dunster Castle the "Alnwick of the West." 
 To-morrow, we are to be allowed, as a special favour, to 
 see the inside of the Castle which towers up so grandly 
 against the sky. It is n't open to the public; but Sir 
 Lionel knows some relatives of the owners, so we are 
 to be shown round. 
 
 "To-morrow," I say. But if I don't stop at once, 
 and go to bed, it will be "to-day." 
 
 Ever your 
 
 AUDRIE.
 
 XXV 
 
 FROM SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL 
 PATRICK O'HAGAN 
 
 Swan Hotel, Wells, Aug. 20th 
 
 MY DEAR PAT: What a good fellow you are! Your 
 letter, just forwarded here, has been like for me a draught 
 from the "cup which cheers but not " No, on sec- 
 ond thoughts I can't go on with the quotation " but not 
 inebriates." I rather think the cup has inebriated 
 me a little. Anyhow, it has made me a bit conceited. 
 I say to myself, "Well, if this is his opinion of me, why 
 not believe there 's something in it, and do as other 
 men have done before me ? He ought to be a judge of 
 men, and know enough of women to have some idea of 
 the sort of person it would be possible for one of them 
 to love." That is the state of mind to which you have 
 brought me, with a little ink and a little paper, and 
 plenty of good intentions. It would take about a mag- 
 num of champagne to exhilarate some men as your praise 
 and your advice have exhilarated me. 
 
 When I wrote you last, I was in the dumps. It was 
 a dull world, and all the tigers I had ever shot were 
 mounted on sackcloth, or stuffed with ashes. Sounds 
 disgusting, does n't it ? But suddenly, the sun broke 
 out, and dulness and tigers fled together. I suppose 
 312
 
 SET IN SILVER 313 
 
 I must always have been a creature of moods, and did n't 
 know it ; for all it took to change gray Purgatorio to blue 
 Paradiso was a few words from a girl. She said she 
 did n't love Dick, and would as soon marry my chauffeur 
 or words to that effect. Explained everything 
 or, if she did n't explain, looked at me, and I thought 
 she had explained. I forget now whether she did 
 explain or not, rationally and satisfactorily, but it 
 does n't matter. There is no one like her, and I have 
 reached a stage of idiocy concerning her which I would 
 blush to describe. I see now that the feeling which a 
 very young man, hardly out of boyhood, dignified with 
 the name of love, is merely a kind of foundation that, 
 when fallen into picturesque ruin, makes a good firm 
 flooring of experience to build second, or real, love, 
 upon. I don't know whether that 's well or badly 
 said, but it expresses my state of mind. 
 
 If only this second true love of mine were not the 
 daughter of the first and false! 
 
 Even now, when I frankly acknowledge to myself 
 that she can make the light of the world for me, there 
 are black moments when I distrust her distrust my 
 impressions of her; and hate myself for doing both. 
 I used to believe so firmly in heredity that I can't 
 throw aside my old theories in a moment, even for her 
 sake. How comes Ellaline de Nesville's and Fred 
 Lethbridge's daughter to be what this girl seems ? 
 That 's what I ask myself; but there again your letter 
 helps. You remind me that "our parents are not our 
 only ancestors." 
 
 But enough of all this rhapsodizing and doubting.
 
 314 SET IN SILVER 
 
 There 's nothing definite to tell you, except that she 
 has said she does n't care for Dick Burden, and that, 
 generally speaking, if appearances are against her, 
 I must kindly not judge by them. 
 
 "Give her the benefit of the doubt as long as you 
 can," you say. But, thank heaven I can do more. 
 I give her the benefit of not doubting at all, except 
 in those black moments I have confessed to you. 
 
 We have had some good road adventures together, 
 and she has proved herself a thorough sportswoman, 
 as well as a jewel of a companion; but, of course, I 
 have n't had her often to myself. Mrs. Senter and 
 Dick Burden are still of the party, and say nothing 
 about future plans, though there was a vague under- 
 standing when they first came that they were asked 
 for a fortnight. They seem to be enjoying themselves, 
 so I suppose I ought to be pleased; and Mrs. Senter 
 is agreeable to everybody, though sometimes it has 
 occurred to me that she and Ellaline don't hit it off 
 invariably. Still, I may be mistaken. She praises 
 Ellaline, and seems anxious to throw her into Dick's 
 society, which presumably she would n't do if she did n't 
 like the girl. 
 
 Dick did run up to Scotland to see his mother for a 
 few days, and I thought, as Mrs. Burden sent for him 
 on account of her health, he might have to stay on. 
 But no such luck. He was back almost indecently 
 soon pounced down upon us at Bideford, just in time, 
 perhaps, to prevent my taking your advice before I got it. 
 
 The fact is, there was a queer misunderstanding 
 with which I won't bore you, but by which Ellaline was
 
 SET IN SILVER 315 
 
 left behind at Tintagel, and I went back alone to fetch 
 her, with the car. She was adorable, even unusually 
 adorable, and I loved her horribly. Yes, that 's the 
 only word for it, because it hurt; it hurt so much that 
 next day I felt I could n't go on bearing the pain, and 
 that I should have to find a chance to tell her. I was 
 pretty sure she would think me a middle-aged and 
 several other kinds of a fool, even though she were polite 
 in words; nevertheless, I might have run the risk, even 
 unspurred by your letter, if Dick had n't come back 
 looking extremely young and attractively impertinent. 
 She mayn't care a rap for him; she says she doesn't, 
 so I suppose she knows her own mind; still, the contrast 
 between our years is in his favour, and with him under 
 my nose as well as continuously underfoot, I see 
 myself as (I fear) others see me. Yet I may not be able 
 to keep my head if a chance should come. And if I 
 lose it my head, I mean that 's the time to take 
 your advice. 
 
 We have been seeing some fine country of late ; Dunster 
 was one of the best bits, also grand old Luttrell Castle, 
 which, by the way, is Hardy's Stancy Castle in "The 
 Laodicean." There are some rare old buildings in Dunster 
 which reek history. The church has a noble rood screen; 
 and the Yarn Market is unique in England; so is the 
 queer old "Nunnery," so-called, and the ancient inn 
 where we stayed. 
 
 Cleve Abbey is only a few miles away, and I was 
 surprised at the magnificence of the ruin, which was used 
 as a farmhouse for years, and would be thus degraded 
 still if it were n't for Mr. Luttrell, the owner of Dun-
 
 316 SET IN SILVER 
 
 ster Castle, who has bought and restored it. Cistercian, 
 and as old as the tenth century, with a gatehouse of 
 Richard the Second's day; bits of exquisite encaustic 
 tiling from the demolished church, preserved religiously 
 under glass; and a refectory roof to enchant artists and 
 archaeologists beautiful hammer-beams and carved 
 angels of Spanish walnut wood, fifteenth century, I 
 think; and some shadowy ghosts of frescoes. 
 
 Ellaline was enchanted with the old custodian, who 
 talked much about "heart of oak," and when she ven- 
 tured to remark that he "looked as if he were made of 
 it," she and the old fellow himself both blushed amusingly. 
 
 We came on through pretty, respectable-looking 
 Williton, where lived Reginald Fitz TJrse who helped 
 murder St. Thomas of Canterbury, and where every- 
 thing is extraordinarily ancient except the motor garage. 
 
 By this we were among the Quantock Hills; and the 
 differences between Devonshire and Somerset scenery 
 were beginning to be very marked. It 's difficult to define 
 such differences; but they 're visible in every feature; 
 the shape of the downs; the trees, standing up tall and 
 isolated in "Zummerzet," like landmarks; even the 
 conformation of roads which, by the way, are ex- 
 tremely good in these regions, a pleasant change for 
 the car after some of her wild hill-climbing and tobog- 
 ganning feats in North Devon. 
 
 Do you remember how, when we were boys, we discussed 
 favourite names, and placed Audrey high in the list 
 among those of women? Here, in the Quantock Hills, 
 they spell it "Audrie," for the saint who patronizes 
 West Quantoxhead; and I have learned that it was
 
 SET IN SILVER 317 
 
 the name which the outlawed Doone tribe best loved 
 to give their girl children. I think I used to say I should 
 like to marry a girl named Audrey, but never heard of 
 such a person in real life, until Ellaline informed me, 
 on seeing St. Audrie's, that it 's the name of her most 
 intimate friend. I responded by confessing my boyish 
 resolve, and to amuse myself, asked if she would some 
 day introduce me to her friend. "Not for the world!" 
 said she, and blushed. I wish I could make myself 
 believe her jealous. You would probably encourage me 
 to think it! 
 
 Wordsworth loved the pleasant region of the Quantock 
 hills, you know, and wrote some charming poems while 
 he and Coleridge lived at Nether Stowey and Alforden; 
 but just to see, in passing, Nether Stowey looks unat- 
 tractive; and as for Bridgewater, not much farther 
 on (where a red road has turned pink, then pale, then 
 white with chalk), it is as commercial to look at as it is 
 historical to read of. When a boy, in bloodthirsty 
 moods, I used to pore over that history; read how Judge 
 Jeffreys lodged at Bridgewater during the Bloody As- 
 sizes (the house is gone now, washed away like an old 
 blood stain) ; how the moor between Weston and Bridge- 
 water (in these days lined with motors) was lined with 
 Feversham's gibbets after Sedgemoor. Does n't Macaulay 
 refer to that as "the last fight deserving the name of 
 battle, fought on English soil"? Then there was the 
 story of "S wayne's Jumps," which one connected with 
 Bridgewater. He made his famous escape in Toxley 
 Wood, close by, and to this day the place is marked 
 with three stones. That sort of thing rushes you back
 
 318 SET IN SILVER 
 
 in a minute over long distances in time, does n't it ? 
 as motors rush you forward in a minute over long distances 
 of space. 
 
 So to Glastonbury, by way of Poland Hill, looking 
 down over the Sedgemoor plain, Chedzoy Church, on 
 whose southern buttress the battle axes were sharpened* 
 and Weston Zoyland, with its Dutch-sounding name, 
 and Dutch-looking dykes. 
 
 I never saw Glastonbury until now, and I 'm not sure 
 that, having seen it, I shan't be obliged to hook it on top 
 of Winchester, on my bump of reverence. Not that 
 one can compare its ruined grandeur with well-pre- 
 served Winchester, the comparison lies in the oldness 
 and the early beginnings of religion. I believe Glaston- 
 bury is the one religious institution in which Briton, 
 Saxon, and Norman all share and share alike; so the place 
 seems to bind our race to a race supplanted. St. Dun- 
 stan is the "great man" of the place, because he it was 
 who restored the monastery after Danish wars; but he 
 is a modern celebrity beside Joseph of Arimathea, the 
 founder, who came with eleven companions to bring 
 the Holy Word to Britain. It was the Archangel Gabriel 
 who bade him found a church in honour of the Virgin ; 
 and it was a real inspiration of the archangel's; 
 for what one can see of the chapel of St. Joseph is abso- 
 lutely perfect a gem of beauty. 
 
 We came to Glastonbury in the afternoon, having 
 lunched at a nice old coaching house in Bridgewater, 
 and after pausing for a look at the Abbot's kitchen, I 
 drove straight to the George, which I had heard of as 
 being the Pilgrim's Inn of ancient times, and the best
 
 SET IN SILVER 319 
 
 bit of domestic architecture in the town. The idea was 
 to have tea there an indulgence for which Emily 
 clamoured, being half choked with chalky dust; but the 
 house was so singularly beautiful and interesting that it 
 seemed a crime not to sleep in it. The front is a gorgeous 
 mass of carved panelling; in the middle rises a four- 
 centred gateway, and on the left is a marvel of a bow 
 window, with a bay for every story. We went up a newel 
 stairway to look at rooms, and one in which Henry 
 VIII. slept a night fell to my share not because I was 
 selfishly ready to take the best, however, for there were 
 several others more curious, if not more interesting. 
 
 Our quarters for the night selected, we went out sight- 
 seeing, on foot, first taking the Abbey and Chapel of the 
 Blessed Virgin, corruptly known as St. Joseph's. It 's 
 a good thing, Pat, that you did n't get your youthful 
 way, and annex Emily, because you have, or had, a 
 "strong weakness" for ruins, and she doesn't appre- 
 ciate them in any form. The difference between her 
 expression and Ellaline's while gazing at what is left 
 of Glastonbury's glory was a study. Emily's bored, 
 yet conscientiously desiring to be interested; the girl's 
 rapt, radiant. And, indeed, these remnants of beauty 
 are pathetically fair enough to draw tears to such young 
 eyes as hers. They are even more majestic in ruin than 
 they could have been in noblest prime, I think, because 
 those broken arches have the splendour of classic tragedy. 
 They are like a poem of which a few immortal lines 
 are lost. 
 
 In the warm light of the August afternoon the old 
 stones, pillars, and arches of Glastonbury Abbey seemed
 
 320 SET IN SILVER 
 
 to be carved in stained ivory, a has relief on lapis lazuli. 
 We lingered until our pretty Mrs. Senter got the look 
 in her eyes of one who has stood too long in high-heeled 
 boots, and Emily asked plaintively whether we were 
 not going to see the Glastonbury Thorn. It appeared 
 that she had promised to write her tame parson about 
 it, and send him a sprig for planting; and she was much 
 disappointed when she heard that the "original thorn," 
 Joseph of Arimathea's blossoming staff, had been de- 
 stroyed centuries ago on Weary-All Hill, where the 
 saintly band rested on the way to Glastonbury. One 
 trunk of the famous tree was hewed down by a Puritan 
 1n Elizabeth's day (I 'm happy to tell you he lost a leg 
 and an eye in the act), while the second and only remain- 
 ing one was destroyed by a "military saint" in the great 
 rebellion. "What disagreeable things saints have done!" 
 exclaimed Ellaline, which shocked Emily. "There have 
 been very few military ones, anyhow," my sister returned, 
 mildly, with a slightly reproachful glance at me, aimed 
 at my spiritual failures. I cheered her up by promising 
 that I would get her a sprig of thorn at Wells, and telling 
 her how all the transplanted slips have the habit of 
 blossoming on Christmas Day, old style January 6th, 
 isn't it? 
 
 Our next "sight" was the museum in the Market 
 Place; and you may take my word for it, Pat, there 's 
 nothing much more interesting to be found the world 
 over, if you 're interested in antiquities, as you and I 
 are. There 's the Alfred jewel, which, of course, the 
 women liked best; and next in their estimation came 
 the bronze mirrors, the queer pins and big needles, the
 
 SET IN SILVER 321 
 
 rouge pots and the hair curlers (which Emily gravely 
 pronounced to be curiously like Hinde's) of the Celtic 
 beauties who lived before the visits of those clever com- 
 mercial travellers, the Phoenicians. These relics were 
 taken from the prehistoric village at Godnet Marsh, 
 discovered only about sixteen years ago, and they were 
 found with others far more important; for instance, a 
 big, clumsy canoe of black oak, which was soft as soap 
 when it first came up out of its hiding-place in the thick 
 peat bog, but was hardened afterward by various scien- 
 tific tricks. I confess to more interest in the dice boxes 
 and dice, some of which the sly old Celtic foxes had 
 loaded. Cheating is n't precisely a modern device, it 
 seems! 
 
 After the museum, I took the party to a jeweller's I 'd 
 heard of, and bought some copies of the sacred treasures : 
 a replica of the Alfred jewel; a silver bowl, exactly imi- 
 tating a bronze one from the lake village probably 
 of Greek manufacture, brought over by Phoenicians 
 and other quaint and interesting things. Ellaline is 
 to have the jewel; the silver bowl is to be a "sop" to Mrs. 
 Senter; and for Emily is a tiny model oven, such as the 
 Phoenicians taught the Celts to make and Cornish 
 cottagers bake their bread in to this day. 
 
 There was the old Red Lion Inn to see, too, where 
 Abbot Whiting lay the night before his execution, which 
 was a murder; and the Women's Almshouses, and a 
 dozen other things which tourists are expected to see 
 besides many dozen which they are not; and it is for 
 the latter that Ellaline and I have a predilection. She 
 and I are also fond of believing any story which is inter-
 
 322 SET IN SILVER 
 
 esting, therefore we are both invaluable victims to the 
 custodians of museums and other show places. The 
 nice old fellow in the Glastonbury museum was delighted 
 with our faith, which would not only have moved moun- 
 tains, but transported to such mountains any historic 
 celebrity necessary to impress the picture. We believed 
 in the burying of the original Chalice, from which to 
 this hour flows a pure spring, the Holy, or Blood Spring. 
 We believe that St. Patrick was born, and died on the 
 Isle of Avalon; and more firmly than all, that both Arthur 
 and Guinevere were buried under St. Mary's (or St. 
 Joseph's) Chapel. Why, did n't the custodian point 
 out to us, in the picture of an ancient plan of the chapel, 
 the actual spot where their bodies lay? What could 
 we ask more than that? But if we go to Scotland next 
 year, we shall doubtless believe just as firmly that Arthur 
 rests there, in spite of the record at Glastonbury, in 
 spite even of Tennyson: 
 
 ". . . the island valley of Aviloh; 
 Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
 Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies 
 Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns 
 And bowery hollows crown 'd with summer sea, 
 Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." 
 
 Does that come back to you, from Arthur's speech to 
 Bedevere ? but he died of the "grievous wound" after 
 all; and the custodian goes so far as to assert, solemnly, 
 that when the coffins were opened in the days of Henry 
 II. the bodies of the king and queen were "very beauti- 
 ful to see, for a moment, untouched by time; but that
 
 SET IN SILVER 323 
 
 in a second, as the people looked, their dust crumbled 
 away, all except the splendid golden hair of Guinevere, 
 which remained to tell of her glory, for many a long 
 year, until it was stolen, and disappeared forever." 
 
 That is a good story, anyhow, and adds to the curious, 
 almost magical enchantment of Glastonbury. Ellaline 
 says that the very name of Glastonbury will after this 
 ring in her ears like the sound of fairy bells, chiming 
 over the lost lake that ringed the Isle of Avalon. You 
 know, I dare say, that Glastonbury is supposed to have 
 its derivation from British "Ynyswytryn," "Inis vitrea," 
 the "Island of Glass," because the water surrounding 
 it was blue and clear as crystal. So many golden apples 
 grew in the island orchards, that it became also the Isle 
 of Avalon, from "Avalla" an apple. 
 
 Even now, the queer conical, isolated hills of the 
 neighbourhood are called islands, and it is easy to picture 
 Glastonbury as an isle rising among lesser ones out of a 
 bright, azure estuary stretching away and away to the 
 Bristol Channel. The Saxon king, Edgar, whose 
 royal castle has given the name to the town of Edgarly, 
 must have had a fine view in his day. And now you 
 have only to go up Tor Hill (a landmark for miles round, 
 with its tower of St. Michael on top like the watch-dog 
 of a dead king) to see Wells Cathedral to the north, 
 the blue Mendips east and west, and cutting the range, 
 a mysterious break, like a door, which means the wild 
 pass of Cheddar; far in the west, a gleam of the Bristol 
 Channel; south, the Polden Hills, the Dorset heights 
 beyond, and the Quantocks overtopped by the . peak 
 of Dunkery Beacon. I think one would have to go
 
 324 SET IN SILVER 
 
 far to see more of England in one sweep of the eye. 
 Indeed, foreigners might come, make a hasty ascent of 
 Tor Hill, and take the next boat back to their own 
 country, telling their friends not untruthfully that they 
 had "seen England." 
 
 At night, in the room of Henry VIII., I dreamed I saw 
 Anne Boleyn, with Ellaline's face, which smiled at me, 
 the lips saying: "I '11 forgive you, if you '11 forgive me." 
 I hope that 's a good omen ? 
 
 We gave ourselves twenty-four hours in Glastonbury 
 and the neighbourhood, running out to the prehistoric 
 village at Godney Marsh, to see the excavations, and to 
 Meare (by the by, the very causeway over which our 
 motor spun was built of stones from the Abbey!) then 
 on, toward evening, to Wells. There have been sur- 
 prisingly blue evenings lately, to which Ellaline has 
 drawn my attention; and her simile on the way to Wells, 
 that we seemed to be driving through a pelting rain of 
 violets, I thought rather pretty. What shall I do, I 
 wonder, if I have to part with her give her to some 
 other man, perhaps? It hardly bears thinking of. 
 And yet it may easily happen. It seems to me that 
 every man who sees her must want her; and the feeling 
 does n't make for peace or comfort. I suppose I might 
 be different, and less the brute, if I had n't lived so long 
 in the East, growing used to Eastern customs; but as it 
 is, when I see some man's eyes light upon her face and 
 rest there in surprised admiration, I want to snatch her 
 up, wrap her in a veil, and run off with her in my arms. 
 Beastly, is n't it ? I have no such feeling, however, in 
 connection with Mrs. Senter, although she is very
 
 SET IN SILVER 325 
 
 striking, and excites a good deal of attention wherever 
 we eo. 
 
 I haven't seen Emily so happy since we have been 
 motoring as she is at Wells, and it seems almost criminal 
 to tear her away, though I fear I shall have to do so 
 to-morrow. She says that, except at home, she has 
 never felt such "an air of religious calm" as at Wells; 
 and there 's something in the feeling which I can under- 
 stand, though I must admit I don't go about the world 
 searching for religious calm. 
 
 Certainly one can't imagine a crime being committed at 
 Wells, and a wicked thought would be rather wickeder 
 here than elsewhere. Not that the Cathedral is to 
 me alluringly beautiful (I believe it ranks high, and 
 is even exalted as the "best secular church" to be 
 found the world over, the west front being glorified 
 as a masterpiece beyond all others in England) ; at first 
 sight it vaguely disappointed me. I am no expert judge 
 of architecture, and don't pretend to be; still, I dare 
 to have my likes and dislikes; and it was not until I 'd 
 walked round the cathedral many times, stood and stared 
 at it, and gone up heights to survey it from different 
 points of view, that I began to warm toward it mightily. 
 Now, I find it eminently noble, yet not so lovable as 
 some which my memory cherishes, some not perhaps 
 as architecturally or artistically perfect. But you know 
 what individuality buildings have, especially those 
 which are vast and dominating; and Wells is unique. 
 As the common people say, it "wants knowing." 
 
 Emily, usually sparing of adjectives, pronounces the 
 Lady Chapel "a dream," and I don't think she exag-
 
 326 SETINSILVER 
 
 gerates; but for myself, the things least forgettable 
 in the Cathedral will be the Chapter House Stairs 
 and the beautiful fourteenth century glass. The 
 ascent of the staircase is an exquisite experience, and, 
 as Ellaline cried out in her joy, "it must be like going 
 up a snow mountain by moonlight." The old clock 
 in the transept, too, holds one hypnotized, waiting always 
 to see what will happen next. Peter Lightfoot, the 
 Glastonbury monk, who made it in the fourteenth 
 century, must have had a lively imagination, and have 
 loved excitement " something doing," as Americans 
 say. Ellaline and I are overcome with sympathy for 
 one of four desperately fighting knights who never gets 
 the colours. Hard luck to work like that for hundreds 
 of years, and never succeeed! 
 
 At last Emily has seen the Glastonbury Thorn, and 
 obtained her slip, as an exceptional favour. She longs 
 for Christmas to come, to know if it will bloom, as it 
 does regularly every year in the gardens of the Bishop's 
 palace. 
 
 Until now I could n't have imagined envying a bishop, 
 but to live in the palace at Wells, and own the palace 
 gardens for life, would be worth a few sacrifices. I 
 should think there could have been never a more 
 poetical or charming garden on earth not excepting 
 Eden or a few Indian gardens I have admired. It 
 is perfect; as Ellaline says, even pluperfect, in its contrast 
 with the gray ruins, and the mellow, ancient house. 
 There is an embattled wall, which makes a terrace 
 walk, above the fair lawns and jewelled flower beds, 
 and from the top as you walk, the hills girdling the old
 
 SET IN SILVER 327 
 
 city go waving in gradations of blue to an opal horizon. 
 There 's an old Well House in the garden, which is one 
 of its chief ornaments, and has adorned it since the 
 fifteenth century. Bishop Beckington the Becking- 
 ton of the punning rebus (Beacon and Tun) built it to 
 supply water to the city. But there were plenty of other 
 springs, always seven famous ones which sug- 
 gested the name, Wells; and had they not existed, perhaps 
 King Ina (who flourished in the eighth century, and 
 was mixed up in Glastonbury history) would not have 
 founded a cathedral here. Blessed be the seven wells, 
 then, for without them one of the fairest places in Eng- 
 land might never have existed. 
 
 I had heard of the celebrated swans, and as I knew 
 she would like them, I determined to pay the birds a 
 morning call (the day after we arrived) with Ellaline. 
 From any obtrusion of Emily's I felt safe, for her mind 
 whirls here with old oak carvings, Flaxman sculptures, 
 ancient vestments, carven tombs, and, above all, choral 
 services. Indeed, Emily is never at her best except in 
 a cathedral; and I knew that swans would not be eccle- 
 siastic enough to please her. But of Mrs. Senter and 
 Dick I had to be more wary; for the lady, no doubt 
 because she is my guest, feels it polite to give me a good 
 deal of her society; and Dick naturally considers that 
 Ellaline 's time is wasted on me, especially when he 
 is n't by to alleviate the boredom. 
 
 My one chance was to lure the girl out early, for 
 neither Mrs. Senter nor Burden loves the first morning 
 hours. With all the guilty tremors of one who cooks 
 an intrigue, I sent a note to Ellaline's room, just after
 
 328 SET IN SILVER 
 
 she had gone to bed, asking if she were "sporting 
 enough" to come for a walk at seven-thirty. I thought 
 that way of putting the invitation would fetch her, 
 and it did; but perhaps a card I enclosed had something 
 to do with her prompt acceptance. I printed, in my 
 best imitation of engraved text, "Mr. and Mrs. Swan 
 and the Misses Cygnet, At Home, In the Moat, Bishop's 
 Palace. Ring for Refreshments. R.S.V.P." 
 
 Five minutes later came down a scrap of paper (all 
 she had, no doubt) with a little pencil scrawl, saying 
 that Miss Lethbridge was delighted to accept Mr. and 
 Mrs. Swan's kind invitation for seven-thirty, and thanked 
 Sir Lionel Pendragon for obtaining it. I have put this 
 away with my treasures, of course. 
 
 I was at the place appointed before the time, and 
 she did n't keep me waiting. As a matter of fact, she 's 
 always extraordinarily prompt. Modern school training, 
 I suppose, as Ellaline the First was never known to be 
 in time for anything. And the swans were worth getting 
 up for. They are magnificent creatures; but, unlike 
 many professional beauties, they 're as clever as they 
 are handsome. For generations they and their ancestors 
 have been trained to ring a bell when they breakfast; 
 and to see the whole family, mother, babies, and cousins, 
 breasting the clear, lilied water, and waiting in a dig- 
 nified, not too eager, row while father pulls a bell in 
 the old palace wall, tweaking the string impatiently with 
 his beak, is better than any theatrical performance of 
 this season in London. 
 
 Ellaline was entranced, and would have the play 
 played over and over again by the swan actors and the
 
 SET IN SILVER 329 
 
 stage manageress, a kindly and polite woman who con- 
 ducted the entertainment. When we were both ashamed 
 to beg for more, Ellaline suggested a walk round the 
 town, which is of an unspoiled beauty, and you can 
 guess whether or no I was glad to be her guide. I 'm cer- 
 tain I should have proposed before breakfast (I wonder if 
 any other man was ever in love enough for that?) if 
 Dick Burden and his aunt had n't turned a corner at 
 the critical moment. But perhaps it was just as well. 
 In spite of what you say, I am certain she would have 
 refused me. 
 
 Nevertheless, for your encouragement, my dear old 
 Pat, I am 
 
 Yours ever gratefully, 
 
 PEN.
 
 XXVI 
 
 MRS. SENTER TO HER SISTER, MRS. BURDEN 
 
 Empire Hotel, Bath, 
 
 August Without End, Amen/ 
 
 MY DEAR Sis: Talk about a land where it is always 
 afternoon! Seems to me it will never stop being August. 
 I 'm dead sick of motoring in present company, and so 
 furious with Sir Lionel that the only revenge I can think 
 of is to marry him. Would that I could say, " Vengeance 
 is mine " ; but it 's still a bird in the bush, I regret to say, 
 while in my hand is nothing save the salt which I 'm 
 trying to sprinkle on its tail. 
 
 Curious feeling one has on a motor tour. I have the 
 sensation of being detached from my own past (good 
 thing that, for some ladies of our acquaintance!) like 
 a hook that 's come out of its eye. The hook, however, 
 is quite ready to fit into any new eye that happens to 
 be handy, or dig out any eye that happens to be in the 
 way. And that brings me back to Mademoiselle Leth- 
 bridge. It really can't be good for one's liver to dislike 
 anyone as much as I have grown to dislike that girl; 
 but unfortunately I can't afford to despise her. She 
 is clever; almost too clever, for cherished, protected, 
 schoolgirl nineteen. Would that I could find a screw 
 loose in her history! Wouldn't I make it rattle? I 
 880
 
 SET IN SILVER 331 
 
 thought I had got hold of one, through the Tyndals, 
 but Sir Lionel would n't listen to the rattling, would n't 
 let it rattle for an instant. It is only the change of 
 climate and English food that prevents his manners 
 from being (as no doubt they were in Eastern climes) 
 those of a Bashaw; and if he were one's husband he 
 could n't be more disagreeable than he is at times. 
 
 Not that he means to be disagreeable. If he did, 
 one would know how to take him or not to take him. 
 But it is his polite indifference to which I object. I 'm 
 not used to it in men. It 's like a brick wall you 're 
 dying to kick against, only it 's no use. I don't take all 
 the trouble I do with my hair and complexion not to 
 be looked at, I assure you. Why, my waist might just 
 as well be two inches bigger for all he notices! It is 
 too trying. And then, to see the way he looks at that 
 girl, who does n't know enough about physical economy 
 to make powder stick on her nose when it rains! 
 
 It does me good to talk to you like this. Dick isn't 
 sympathetic, because he happens to be in love with 
 the young female, and though he occasionally abuses 
 her himself, on the spur of a snub, he won't let 
 me do it. 
 
 Don't think, however, that I give up hope. By no 
 means. I have heaps of tricks up my sleeve, small 
 and fashionable as it is, and lots of strings to my bow. 
 But I just wish one was a "bowstring" and round a 
 girl's neck. I 'd give a tiny, tiny pull. In fact, I did 
 give one yesterday one which I 've been wanting to 
 give ever since I received your letter. But actually, 
 till yesterday, I never got a chance. I " made " several,
 
 332 SET IN SILVER 
 
 but they always went to bits, like a child's house of 
 cards. Poor me! That is part of the creature's clever- 
 ness. I think she knew by instinct that I had some- 
 thing nasty to say, and she kept dodging about, preventing 
 me from laying hands (I won't say claws) on her. 
 
 Dick, too, she has kept in the same position, waiting 
 for an opportunity to pounce. Indeed, she has handled 
 us both surprisingly well, considering her age and 
 bringing up. I have a certain respect for her. But one 
 often respects people one dislikes, does n't one ? At 
 least, really nice, amusing people of my type do. 
 
 Exactly what Dick wants to do with his white mouse 
 when he has pounced on it I have no means of knowing, 
 for since a slight misunderstanding, not to say row, 
 which we had on the night of his return from Scotland 
 and you, a certain reserve has fallen between us, like 
 a stage curtain. He is on the stage side; I am in the 
 position of audience. But I was never in doubt for a 
 moment as to what would follow my pounce, provided 
 the mouse did n't prove too strong for me and I 
 don't think it has. My pretty little ladylike bite must 
 have left a mark on the velvet fur. 
 
 I dare say I have excited your curiosity by referring 
 to a " row " with Dick, and lest you neglect my interests 
 in the rest of the letter, to brood upon his, I 'd better 
 pander at once to your maternal anxiety. 
 
 He would n't have confessed to me anything you had 
 told him about Miss Lethbridge's antecedents, for the 
 very good reason that he hangs onto her with the grip 
 of a bulldog on a marrow-bone; but as I was armed with 
 your letter (I found it waiting for me at Bideford)
 
 SET IN SILVER 333 
 
 containing full information, he saw it was no use to 
 keep anything back. 
 
 If I had had the letter a little earlier I might not have 
 racked my valuable brain as violently as I did to give 
 him a chance alone with Ellaline. I arranged for him 
 to find her deserted at King Arthur's Castle, like 
 Mariana in her moated grange; but on reading what 
 you had to say, I admit I had qualms as to the wisdom 
 of my policy where Dick's future was concerned. How- 
 ever, even then I trusted to myself to save him if it came 
 to the worst; and it might have been valuable for my 
 future if things had happened "according to schedule" 
 just because Sir Lionel is such a Bashaw. He would 
 never again have felt the same to the girl if she had 
 schemed to be left behind in order to meet Dick. How- 
 ever I can control most men, and many women, but 
 I can't control trains; and it was through their missing 
 connections that Dick missed rescuing his ladylove. 
 As it has turned out, no harm has been done to him. 
 I wish I could be as sure of myself; for Sir Lionel, I 
 fancy, has n't been quite as nice since. He can't guess 
 what I had to do with the affair; but I suppose even 
 men have instinct, inferior to ours though it be. 
 
 Dick came to my room at Bideford, and was cross 
 because things had gone wrong; I was cross because 
 he was cross (I hate injustice in anyone but myself), 
 and then he was crosser because I told him it would never 
 do for him to marry the girl, knowing what we now 
 know. He said he would have her, and hang every- 
 body else, especially Sir Lionel; I argued that hanging 
 people would do no good; and he then said that it would
 
 334 SET IN SILVER 
 
 be all right anyhow about the dot, as he knew a way 
 of getting something decent out of Sir Lionel for her. 
 What he knew he firmly refused to divulge, and when 
 I asked if he 'd told you, he replied that he jolly well 
 hadn't. Also he accused me of "stinginess," in not 
 wanting "Pendragon to part," and wishing to keep the 
 "whole hog" for myself; his delicate way of expressing 
 my desire to retain the means of purchasing tiaras, etc., 
 suitable to my rank, in case I should become the future 
 Lady Pendragon. 
 
 At this point in the conversation our family relations 
 were somewhat strained, but before they reached snap- 
 ping point, with my accustomed tact (partly learned 
 from you) I smoothed my nephew down, regardless 
 of my own injured feelings. Nothing could be better 
 for me than that he should be engaged to Miss Leth- 
 bridge, though, of course, nothing could be worse for us 
 all than that he should marry her. Trust me, I say 
 again, as I have said before, to prevent that. I assure 
 you, I can easily do it. Meanwhile, I encourage Dick 
 to believe that he has softened my hard heart; and 
 though he does n't believe in me absolutely, or tell me all 
 the workings of his mind, I 'm certain you need have 
 no anxiety about your son and heir. 
 
 Now to my own affairs, which, after Dick's future and 
 your neuralgia, I flatter myself are dear to you. 
 
 You 've often remarked that I 'm nothing if not 
 dramatic, and perhaps when I tell you what I did 
 yesterday you will think I 've proved it for the hun- 
 dredth or is it the thousandth ? time. 
 
 We left Wells (which depressed me as all cathedral
 
 SETINSILVER 335 
 
 towns do, because everybody, and even every building, 
 seems so unco guid) to run through the Cheddar ravine, 
 which, I fancy, though I don't know and care less, is 
 among the Mendip Hills. I woke up with a headache, 
 not having slept on account of a million church clocks 
 and bells which were deadly busy all night, and I felt 
 I should be no better until I 'd had it out with the 
 enemy. 
 
 Sir Lionel, as you know, can be a pleasant companion 
 when he chooses, and he 's so good-looking in his soldier 
 way that I can't help admiring him when I 'm not 
 hating him, but it is a strain on the nerves, headache 
 or no headache, sitting next a man and trying every 
 minute to make him like you better than he does the 
 woman he wants to be with, who is sitting behind him. 
 It means that you must be amusing and witty and 
 interested in everything he says. But how can you 
 be witty when the only thing you want to say is " devil 
 and damn," of which he would violently disapprove 
 from a lady's lips (or pen) ? And how can you be interested 
 in all he says when he discourses about mouldy old 
 saints, and legends, and history, and things over and 
 done with long ago, like that? What do I care if St. 
 Dunstan of whom I heard too much at Glastonbury 
 saved King Edmund, hunting in the Mendips, from 
 falling over Cheddar Cliff, horse and man ? Why, I 
 don't even know who Edmund was, or when he hap- 
 pened. Celtic relics, found in caves, are less than 
 nothing to me, and Roman coins are a mere aggravation 
 when one is bothered how to get current coin of the 
 realm. Botany bores me, too, though I have been
 
 336 SET IN SILVER 
 
 studying it, together with many other dull things which, 
 unfortunately for me, Sir Lionel likes. 
 
 Well, we went up the Mendip Hills by way of an 
 obscure little village called Priddy, which seemed im- 
 portant to Sir L. because they found some lead pigs 
 in a mine there marked Imp. Vespasianus, and a few 
 old Roman dice, and brooches like safety-pins. It 
 would be much more to the point if he would take an 
 interest in what / wear, rather than concentrating his 
 attention on the way B. c. Roman miners or soldiers 
 contrived to fasten their rags together. It would console 
 one for invariably losing one's pins and hatpins when 
 one wants them most, if one could think future genera- 
 tions would grow emotional over them. Yet, on the 
 whole, I should prefer it done by a certain man in my 
 own generation. 
 
 The moment we got away from Priddy, where a lot 
 of starfish roads come together, my spirits rose. The 
 country began to look theatrical, which was a pleasant 
 change after Wells, and all my native dramaticness 
 began to surge in me. I felt on my mettle; and when 
 Sir Lionel talked about visiting the Cheddar Caverns 
 I said to myself : " My name is n't Gwen Senter 
 if I don't get hold of the girl in a cave, and tell her a 
 thing or two/* It can't be easy to escape from people 
 in caves, I thought; and so it proved. But I haven't 
 come to that, yet. 
 
 I really enjoyed the Cheddar Ravine. It is the sort 
 of scenery that appeals to me. Hills rose, wild and 
 rocky, shutting in our road, and brigands would have 
 been appropriate, as in some mountain pass of Spain.
 
 SET IN SILVER 337 
 
 There were sheer gray cliffs like castles and burnt-out 
 churches, and watch-towers. 
 
 Said Sir Lionel: "Here we come, straight from one 
 of the finest cathedrals made by man, to see what Nature 
 can do in the way of ecclesiastical architecture; facades 
 here as fine as any west front, and vaguely rich with 
 decoration." I purred, of course, agreeing, and pointing 
 out graceful spires, empty niches for saints, tombs for 
 cardinals, and statues of kings and bishops with crowned 
 and mitred heads, babbling on thus with hurried intelli- 
 gence, lest Ellaline should jump in ahead. 
 
 It 's the kind of place this weird alley of colourful 
 rock where you feel things must happen, and I deter- 
 mined they should happen; a hidden place you are 
 surprised at being able to enter, as if the door had been 
 shut by enchantment a few million years, and then 
 forcibly opened for modern motorists. I used this idea 
 on Sir Lionel, in a form too elaborate to waste on a sister, 
 and made a distinct hit. But Ellaline got in a little 
 deadly work at the first cave. She began talking fairy 
 talk with Sir Lionel, and that not being my style, I had 
 to let her have her head. 
 
 Fancy my pretending to be a child who, having lost 
 itself, suddenly sees a hole in a rock, crawls in for shelter 
 from beasts of the forest, and finds that by accident 
 it has stumbled on the entrance to fairyland! But 
 Miss Lethbridge had quite a fairy game with Sir Lionel, 
 who, she played, was his ancestor King Arthur, carried 
 to this strange place by the four queens who rowed 
 his body across the lake. "You can be one of the 
 queens, if you like," she graciously said to me. "And
 
 338 SETINSILVER 
 
 dear Mrs. Norton another?" I suggested. That turned 
 the budding drama into farce, as I meant it should. 
 
 It was a weird cave, and would have served excel- 
 lently for my purpose; but when I heard there was an- 
 other to follow as servants say of the next course for 
 dinner I thought it would be an anti-climax to use 
 this one. Besides, there were a good many people in 
 it. There were tricky illuminations to show off the 
 best formations, one of which 'was King Solomon's 
 Temple, King S. sitting with folded arms at the 
 entrance, his knees up as if he had a pain; but 
 being only a pink stalagmite, he could n't be ex- 
 pected to behave. 
 
 Having done justice to Gough's Cavern, we returned 
 to the car, and skimmed along the splendid, rock-walled 
 road to the next cave, which, it appears, is a deadly 
 rival of the first. One advertises visits of Martel, the 
 explorer; the other boasts the approval of royalty. I 'm 
 sure they would love to have a notice up : " By appoint- 
 ment to the King," as if they were tailors. But what could 
 a king do with a cave nowadays ? At one time, it might 
 have been handy to hide in, but those days and those 
 kings are changed. I believe, by the way, Britons 
 did hide in one or two of the Cheddar Caverns, when 
 the Saxons were uncomfortably interested in their 
 whereabouts, and there are bones, but I 'm glad to say 
 we didn't see them. I hate to be reminded of what I 'm 
 built on, and can't bear to look in the glass after seeing 
 a skull, with or without cross-bones. 
 
 In this second cave, when Mrs. Norton was putting 
 an appropriate prehistoric question I 'd coached her
 
 SET IN SILVER 339 
 
 up to ask her brother, I linked a friendly arm in Ella- 
 line's, and bore her off under convoy. 
 
 "What a sweet, illuminated stalactite curtain!" said 
 I, rapturously. "Doesn't it look like translucent 
 coral, and wouldn't you like to have a dress exactly 
 that colour ? " 
 
 Thus I managed to keep her with me, and fall behind 
 the others, glaring at Dick so meaningly as to frighten 
 him away when he showed signs of lingering. 
 
 My scene thus effectively set, and the two leading 
 characters on the stage together, I lost no time in be- 
 ginning to recite my lines. It was in a dark sort of rock- 
 parlour, with some kind of an illuminated witches' 
 kitchen or devil's cauldron to look at, and give us an 
 excuse to pause all very effective. 
 
 " Miss Lethbridge," I said, " I have rather a disagree- 
 able duty to perform." 
 
 " When people tell you they have a duty to perform, 
 it goes without saying that it 's disagreeable," she 
 replied, with a flippancy on which I consider I have 
 the patent. 
 
 "Have I a black on my nose, or is my dress undone 
 at the back?" 
 
 "There is a black," said I, "but it's not on your 
 nose." 
 
 "On my character, perhaps?" she insinuated. 
 
 "Not exactly," said I. "But it will be on my con- 
 science if I don't get it off. You see, you ought to 
 know. If you don't know, you 're handicapped, and 
 it is n't fair that a girl like you should be handicapped. 
 I Ve been trying for days to screw up my courage to
 
 340 SET IN SILVER 
 
 speak. In this queer place, I feel suddenly as if I could. 
 Shall we talk here, while we have the chance?" 
 
 "You talk, please," said she. "I will do the rest.'* 
 (Pert thing.) However, I took her at her word, and 
 did what I had to do, with neatness and dispatch, as 
 an executioner should. But the odd part was, that when 
 I had chopped off her head with the axe you sharpened 
 for me and posted from Scotland, registered and ex- 
 pressed, she hardly seemed to know it was off. She 
 did look a little pale, though that might have been the 
 effect of the strange light, but she thanked me pleasantly 
 for telling her the truth, and said she quite appreciated 
 my motive. 
 
 "I was prompted entirely by my interest in you, and 
 because of my nephew's friendship," I said. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said she, in a voice like cream. "What 
 else could it be?" 
 
 "It could be nothing else," I replied emphatically. 
 "I 'm sure I hated distressing you, but it was that good 
 might come. I do hope it has n't upset you too much ? " 
 
 "No, not too much," said she. "But it has made 
 me horribly hungry ! " 
 
 Really, that did stagger me! I must confess I can't 
 tell what to make of the girl. Anyhow, she knows, 
 which is the principal thing, and no matter how remark- 
 able an actress she may be for her age, she must care. 
 It would n't be human not to care for such a story about 
 her own mother and father. Yet she took it so imper- 
 sonally! I can't get over that. And she actually ate 
 a good luncheon! I wonder she could swallow. But, 
 of course, I 'd put everything as politely as I could put
 
 SET IN SILVER 341 
 
 such things, because I did n't want her to scream or faint. 
 Well, I need n't have worried ! 
 
 We had lunch at an inn near Cox's Cavern, with two 
 cascades in the back garden, which is shut in by quite 
 a private and special gorge of its own. I watched the 
 girl as much as I dared, but she looked about as usual 
 so far as I could make out. The only noticeable effect 
 of our conversation was that she seemed somewhat sup- 
 pressed, sat silent and thoughtful, and attempted no 
 sallies. 
 
 Dozens of motors arrived while we were eating, gor- 
 geous cars with resplendent chauffeurs, but there was n't 
 one to put the bonnet of "Apollo" (as someone has 
 named ours) out of joint; and not one chauffeur as 
 striking as our extraordinary Bengali in his native dress. 
 
 I forgot to mention that I bound Ellaline to secrecy 
 before I began my tale, saying that I 'd had the infor- 
 mation in confidence. She has her faults, but I don't 
 think she 'd break her word. She is one of those tall, 
 upstanding, head-in-the-air creatures who pride them- 
 selves on keeping a promise till it 's mouldy. 
 
 My headache was better, after relieving my mind, 
 and I enjoyed the run to Clifton and Bristol. We had 
 to go through the queer old gray village of Cheddar, 
 which was as cheesy looking as one would expect it to be; 
 and I suppose the Market Cross we passed must have 
 been good, as Sir Lionel would stop and take a photo- 
 graph. As we turned out of the place for Axbridge, 
 I threw a glance over my shoulder, back at the exit 
 of the queer valley, and a carved bronze screen seemed 
 already to have been drawn across it.
 
 342 SET IN SILVER 
 
 It was a fine road; Axbridge a sort of toy village whose 
 houses might have been made for good little girls to play 
 with; and to avoid the traffic in the main road we went 
 by way of Congresbury, where the Milford-Joneses live. 
 I was glad we did n't meet them driving their old pony- 
 chaise. I should have been ashamed to bow. There 
 was a turn which led us into a charming road, winding 
 high among woods, then coming out where the gorge 
 of the Avon burst upon our view. It always pleases 
 Sir Lionel if one is enthusiastic over scenery, so I was, 
 though I really hated going over that awfully high 
 suspension bridge, as I detest looking down from 
 heights. So does Mrs. Norton; but I can't afford to 
 be classed with her, therefore I joined Ellaline in 
 exclaiming that the bridge was glorious. I suppose it is 
 fine, if one could only look without fear of being seasick. 
 
 We stopped all night in Clifton, in which Miss Leth- 
 bridge was interested, largely because of "Evelina," 
 who stopped at the Hot Wells, in the " most romantic 
 part of the story." I could n't for my life remember 
 who wrote "Evelina" which was awkward; and it 
 has n't come back to me yet. I always mix the book 
 up with " Clarissa Harlowe," and so does Dick, though, 
 of course, he 's read neither. 
 
 We went to see a lot of things in Bristol, but the best 
 was a church called St. Mary Redcliffe. Mrs. Norton, 
 though tired, pined to go when she heard it was famous; 
 and it 's as much as your life is worth to deny her a 
 church if she wants one. The others, except Dick, 
 said it was worth stopping for; also that they were glad 
 they did; so somebody was pleased! And Sir L. and
 
 SETINSILVER 343 
 
 E. jabbered enough history in Bristol to last a schoolmaster 
 a week. I was quite thankful to start again, and stop the 
 flow of intelligence, because I had n't found time to fag 
 up Bristol and Clifton beforehand, as I do some towns. 
 
 So we came to Bath, where we 've been stopping for 
 two days at one of the best hotels in England, and where 
 I might enjoy a little well-earned civilization if it were n't 
 that there are a thousand and one old houses and other 
 "features" which Mademoiselle Ellaline pretends she 
 yearns to visit. Of course, / know that all she wants 
 is a chance to monopolize Sir L.'s society, but he does n't 
 know that; and my business is not only to fight unjust 
 monopoly, but to establish a Senter-Pendragon Trust 
 myself. Consequently there is no rest for the wicked, 
 and willy-nilly, I, too, gloat over relics of the past. 
 
 Luckily for me, as I have had to do more sight-seeing 
 here than almost anywhere else, Bath is a fascinating 
 place, and I believe it 's becoming very fashionable again. 
 Anyhow, all the great ones of earth seem to have lived 
 here at one time or another. I wonder if it might n't 
 be nice for you to spend a season, taking the waters, 
 or bathing, or whatever is the smartest thing to do ? 
 I 've noticed it 's only the very smartest thing that ever 
 thoroughly agrees with you, and I sympathize. I have 
 the sort of feeling that what is good for duchesses may 
 be good for me; but if I bring off what I 'm aiming at 
 now, Lady Pendragon shall rise on the ladder of her 
 husband's fame and her own charm to the plane of 
 royalties. 
 
 By the way, in nosing about among the foundations 
 of a church here, St. Peter's they found the wife (her
 
 344 SET IN SILVER 
 
 body, I mean) of that King Edmund Thingummy I 
 never could find out about. He seems always to be 
 cropping up! 
 
 I was in hopes we 'd only have to go back to the 
 Roman days of Bath, as that saves trouble; but, oh no, 
 down I must dip into Saxon lore, or I 'm not in it with 
 the industrious Miss Lethbridge! I think the wretched 
 Saxons had a mint here, or something, and there were 
 religious pageants of great splendour in which that ever- 
 lasting St. Dunstan mixed himself up. I tell you these 
 things, I may explain, not because I think you will be 
 interested, but because I want to fix them in my mind, 
 as we have n't finished " doing " Bath yet, and are to 
 stop another day or two. 
 
 As for Roman talk, there is no end of it among us; 
 it mingles with our meals, which would otherwise be 
 delicious; and in my dreams, instead of being lulled by 
 the music of a beautiful weir under my window, I find 
 myself mumbling: "Yes, Sir Lionel, Ptolemy should 
 have said the place was outside, not in, the Belgic border." 
 (Sounds like something new in embroidery, does n't 
 it?) "Strange, indeed, that they only discovered the 
 Roman Baths so late as the middle of the eighteenth 
 century! And then, only think of finding the biggest 
 and best of all, more than a hundred years later!" 
 
 I assure you, I have kept my end up with my two too- 
 well-informed companions, and I was even able to tell 
 Sir Lionel a legend he didn't know: about Bladud, 
 a son of "the British King Lud Hudibras, creating Bath 
 by black magic, secreting a miraculous stone in the spring, 
 which heated the water and cured the sick. Then Bladud
 
 SET IN SILVER 345 
 
 grew so conceited about his own powers that he tried 
 to fly, and if he had succeeded there would have been 
 no need for the Wright brothers to bother; but when he 
 got as far as London from Bath the wing-strings broke 
 and he fell, plop! on a particularly hard temple of 
 Apollo. After him reigned his son, no less a person 
 than King Lear. I got this out of a queer little old book 
 I bought the first day we came, but I assumed the air 
 of having known it since childhood. There 's another 
 legend, it seems, about Bladud and a swine, but it 's 
 less esoteric than this, and Sir Lionel likes mine better. 
 
 I do wish we had n't to spend so much time poking 
 about in the Roman Baths, for though there are good 
 enough sights to see there, for those who love that sort 
 of thing, one does get such cold feet, and there are such 
 a lot of steps up and down, one's dress is soon dusty 
 round the bottom, and that 's a bore when one has no 
 maid. 
 
 If I could choose, I 'd prefer the Pump Room, and 
 would rather talk of Beau Nash and the old Assembly 
 Rooms than of Minerva and her temple or indeed 
 of Pepys, or Miss Austen and Fanny Burney. By the 
 way, " Evelina " was hers. I 've found that out, without 
 committing myself. I wish I could buy the book for 
 sixpence. I think I '11 try, when nobody is looking; 
 and it ought to be easy, for we simply haunt a bookshop 
 in Gay Street, belonging to a Mr. Meehan, who is a 
 celebrity here. He has written a book in which Sir 
 Lionel is much interested, called "Famous Houses of 
 Bath," and as it seems he knows more about the place 
 as it was in old days and as it is now than any other living
 
 346 SET IN SILVER 
 
 person, he has been going round with us, showing us 
 those "features" I mentioned. He appears to have 
 architecture of all kinds at his finger tips, and not only 
 points out here and there what "Wood the elder and 
 Wood the younger" did, under patronage of Ralph 
 Allen, but knows which architect's work was good, 
 which bad, which indifferent; and that really is beyond 
 me! I suppose one can't have a soul for Paris fashions 
 and English architecture too? I prefer to be a judge 
 of the former, thanks ! It 's of much more use in life. 
 
 I should think there can hardly be a street, court, 
 or even alley of Old Bath into which we have n't been 
 led by our clever cicerone, to see a " bit " which ought n't 
 on any account to be missed. Here, the remains of 
 the Roman wall, crowded in among mere, middle- 
 aged things; there the place where Queen Elizabeth 
 stayed, or Queen Anne; where "Catherine Morland" 
 lodged, or " General Tilney " ; where " Miss Elliot " and 
 "Captain Wentworth" met; where John Hales was 
 born, and Terry, the actor; where Sir Sidney Smith and 
 De Quincey went to school; the house whence Elizabeth 
 Linley eloped with Sheridan; the place where the "King 
 of Bath," poor old Nash, died poor and neglected; 
 and so on, ad infinitum, all the way to Prior Park, where 
 Pope stayed with Ralph Allen, rancorously reviling 
 the town and its sulphur-laden air. So now you can 
 imagine that my "walking and standing" muscles are 
 becoming abnormally developed, to the detriment of 
 the sitting-down ones, which I fear may be atrophied 
 or something before we return to motor life. 
 
 Sir Lionel has remarked that Bath is a "microcosm
 
 SET IN SILVER 347 
 
 of England," and I hastened to say "Yes, it is." Do 
 you happen to know what a microcosm means? Dick 
 says it 's a conglomeration of microbes, but he is always 
 wrong about abstract things unconnected with Sherlock 
 Holmes. 
 
 By this time you will be as tired of Bath as if you had 
 pottered about in it as much as I have, and won't care 
 whether it had two great periods Roman and 
 eighteenth century or twenty, inextricably entangled 
 with the South Pole and Kamchatka. M ore tired than 
 I, even, for I have got a certain amount of satisfaction 
 to the eye from the agreeable, classic-looking terraces 
 and crescents, and the pure white stone buildings that 
 glitter on the hillsides overlooking the Avon. That 
 is the sort of background which is becoming to me, and 
 as I had all my luggage meet me in Bath, I have been 
 able to dress for it; whereas Miss Lethbridge has done 
 most of her exploring in blue serge. 
 
 In a day or two we are off again Wales sooner or 
 later, I believe, though I ask no questions, as I don't 
 care to draw attention to my own future plans. We 
 were asked for a fortnight, and I am not troubling my 
 memory to count by how many days we have overstayed 
 not our welcome, I hope but our invitation. You 
 will wonder perhaps why I "overstay," since I frankly 
 admit that I 'm " fed up " with too much scenery and 
 too much information. Yet no, you are far too clever 
 to wonder, dear Sis. You will see for yourself that I 
 must go on, like "the brook," until Sir Lionel asks me 
 to go on as Lady Pendragon. Or else until I have 
 to abandon hope. But I won't think of that. And I
 
 348 SET IN SILVER 
 
 am being so nice to Mrs. Norton (whenever necessary) 
 that I think she has forgiven me the colour of my hair, 
 and will advise her brother to invite me to make a little 
 visit at Graylees Castle, where it is understood the tour 
 eventually comes to an end. When this end may arrive 
 the god of automobiles knows. A chauffeur proposes; 
 the motor-car disposes. And the Woman-in-the-Car 
 never reposes when there 's another woman and a 
 man in the case. 
 
 Your-enduring-to-the-end , 
 
 GWEN. 
 
 P.S. That was an inspiration of mine about the 
 Cheddar Cavern, was n't it ? I have another now, and 
 will make a note of it. N.B. Get Sir L. to take 
 me to see the ruins of Tintern Abbey by moonlight 
 (if any) and while there induce him to propose, or think 
 he has done so. I have a white dress which would just 
 suit.
 
 XXVII 
 
 ATJDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Tintern Abbey, August 
 
 DEAREST SAINT: We 're not exactly living in Tintern 
 Abbey; that would be too good to be true, and would 
 also annoy the rooks which cry and cry always in the 
 ruins, as if they were ghosts of the dead Cistercian 
 monks, clothed not in white, but in decent black, ever 
 mourning their lost glory. But we are in a perfect 
 duck of a hotel, covered with Virginia creeper, and as 
 close by as can be. We arrived this afternoon, and 
 have had an hour or two of delightful dawdling in the 
 Abbey. Soon we are to have an early dinner, which 
 we shall bolt if necessary, so that we may go in again 
 by moonlight, before the moon escapes. I have dressed 
 quickly, because I wanted to begin a letter to you. I 
 shan't have time to finish it, but I '11 do that when 
 we 've come back from the heavenly ruins, with moonlight 
 in my pores and romance in my soul. I ought to write 
 a better letter in such a mood, ought n't I ? And I do 
 try to write nice letters to my Angel, because she says 
 such dear, kind things about them, and also because 
 I love her better every day. 
 
 We Ve seen quantities of beautiful things and places 
 since I wrote you last, darling. To think them over 
 349
 
 350 SET IN SILVER 
 
 is like drawing a long gold chain, strewn at intervals 
 with different precious stones, through the fingers, 
 slowly, jewel by jewel. The gold chain is our road 
 and the beautiful beads are the places, of course. I 
 can say " draw them slowly through the fingers," because 
 we don't scorch. We are out to see the "fair face of 
 England," not to scurry over it like distracted flies. 
 
 I don't remember many " jewels " on the way to Glou- 
 cester from Bath through Cold Aston and Stroud; but 
 if I were properly up in history, no doubt I should have 
 noted more than I did ; yet Gloucester itself was a diamond 
 of the first water. I feared to be disappointed in the 
 Cathedral, so soon after exquisite Wells and the Abbey 
 at Bath, which I loved. But as soon as I got inside 
 it was quite otherwise, especially as I had Sir Lionel 
 to show me things, and he knew Gloucester of old. To 
 me, the interior was almost as interesting as Winchester 
 itself (which, so far, has outranked all), for the transition 
 from one period to another is so clearly and strangely 
 marked, and it 's the actual birthplace of Perpendicular 
 architecture. The Cloisters must be among the loveliest 
 in the world ; and there 's a great, jewelled window 
 which leaves a gorgeous scintillating circle in my 
 mind's eye, just as the sun does on your body's eye, 
 when you have looked in the face of its glory. Oh, 
 and the extraordinary stone veil, with its gilded orna- 
 mentation! I shan't forget that, but shall think of it 
 when I am old. There is an effect as of tall rows of 
 ripe wheat bending toward one another, gleaming as 
 wheat does when the breeze blows and the sun shines. 
 
 We heard the choir singing, an unseen choir of boys
 
 SETINSILVER 351 
 
 and men; and the voices were like shafts of crystal, 
 rising, rising, rising, up as far as heaven, for all I know. 
 
 Don't you feel that the voice of a boy is purer, more 
 impersonal and sexless, somehow, than the clearest 
 soprano of a woman, therefore exactly fulfilling our 
 idea of an angel singing? 
 
 Think of Gloucester having been laid out on the same 
 plan as the praetorian camp at Rome! They 've proved 
 it by a sketch map of Viollet le Due's; and under the 
 city of the Saxons, and mediaeval Gloucester, lies Glou- 
 cestra " Fair City " of the Romans. You can dig 
 bits of its walls and temples up almost anywhere if you 
 go deep enough, people say. It must have been an 
 exciting place to live in when Rome ruled Britain, 
 because the fierce tribes from Southern Wales, just 
 across the Severn, were always spoiling for a fight. 
 But now one can't imagine being excited to any evil 
 passion in this shrine of the great "Abbey of the Severn 
 Lands." The one passion I dared feel was admiration; 
 admiration everywhere, all the way through from the 
 tomb of Osric the Woden who founded the abbey, to 
 the New Inn (which is very old, and perfectly beautiful; 
 in the ancient streets, at the abbot's gateway, all round 
 the Cathedral, inside and out, pausing at the tombs 
 (especially that of poor murdered King Edward II., 
 who was killed at Berkeley Castle only a few miles 
 away), and so on and on, even into the modern town 
 which is inextricably tangled with the old. 
 
 There are quantities of interesting and lovely places, 
 according to Sir Lionel, where one ought to go from 
 Gloucester, especially with a motor, which makes seeing
 
 352 SETINSILVER 
 
 things easier than not seeing them; there 's Chelten- 
 ham, with a run which gives glorious views over the 
 Severn Valley; and Stonebench, where you can best 
 see the foaming Severn Bore; and Tewkesbury, which 
 you '11 be interested to know is the Nortonbury of an 
 old book you love " John Halifax, Gentleman " ; 
 and Malvern; and there 's even Stratford-on-Avon, 
 not too far away for a day's run. But Sir Lionel has 
 news that the workmen will be out of Graylees Castle 
 before long, and he says we must leave some of the 
 best things for another time; Oxford and Cambridge, 
 for instance; and Graylees is so near Warwick and 
 Kenilworth and Stratford-on-Avon that it will be best 
 to save them for separate short trips after we have 
 "settled down at home." 
 
 How little he guesses that there '11 be no settling down 
 for me that already I have been with him longer 
 than I expected! Whenever he speaks of "getting 
 home," and what "we" will do after that, it gives me 
 a horrid, choky feeling; and I 'm afraid he thinks me 
 unresponsive on the subject of the beautiful old place 
 which he apparently longs to have me see, because 
 my throat is always too shut up, when it is mentioned, 
 to talk about it. I can't do much more than say "Yes" 
 and "No," in the absolutely necessary places, and 
 generally show symptoms of cold in the head, if there 's 
 a hanky handy. 
 
 Of course, I am dying to see you, dearest. You 
 know that, without my telling, and you are everything 
 to me my whole world. Yet it hurts me dreadfully 
 to know that, when Sir Lionel Pendragon is at home,
 
 SET IN SILVER 353 
 
 instead of carrying out the nice plans he makes each day 
 for "us" in the future, he will be despising me heartily, 
 and thinking me the very worst girl, without exception, 
 who ever lived. I believe he now dislikes Bloody Queen 
 Mary more than any other woman who ever spoiled 
 the earth with her offensive presence; but probably she 
 will go up one when he gets to know about me. 
 
 I don't doubt that he '11 be angry with the real Ella- 
 line as well, but not absolutely disgusted with her, as 
 he will be with me. Besides, whatever he feels, it won't 
 matter to her very much, except where money is con- 
 cerned, because she will be married before he knows 
 the truth. She won't have to live in his house, or even 
 in the same country with him, for her home will be in 
 France with her soldier-husband. Unfortunately, I 'm 
 afraid his opinion of her may matter in a mwcenary 
 way, for I have heard the whole story I believe the 
 true story of Ellaline's mother and father, as con- 
 nected with Sir Lionel's past. 
 
 Mrs. Senter told it, and enjoyed telling it, because 
 she thought it would depress and take the spirit out of 
 me. She hoped, I 'm sure, that it would make me 
 shrink from Sir Lionel's society in shame and mortifi- 
 cation; also she very likely fancied that I might consider 
 myself an unfit bride for her nephew, whose attentions 
 to me are extremely convenient for her; but she would 
 prefer not to have them end in matrimony. 
 
 If I were Ellaline Lethbridge, with the feelings of 
 Audrie Brendon, I should have taken the recital precisely 
 as she expected; though really I don't think Ellaline 
 herself, as she is, would have minded desperately, except
 
 354 SET IN SILVER 
 
 about the money. But being Audrie Brendon, and 
 not Ellaline, I could have shouted for joy at almost 
 every word that woman said, if it had n't been in a cave 
 where shouting would have made awful echoes. 
 
 You know, dear, how I have been puzzling over Sir 
 Lionel the Noble, as he appears to me, and Sir Lionel 
 the Dragon, as painted by Ellaline, and how I 've vainly 
 tried to match the pieces together. Well, thanks to 
 Mrs. Senter's revelations, the puzzle no longer exists. 
 Of course, long ago, I made up my mind that there 
 was a mistake somewhere, and that it was n't on my 
 side; still, I could n't understand certain things. Now, 
 there isn't one detail which I can't understand very 
 well; and that 's why I 'm so ready to believe Mrs. 
 Senter's story to be true. Most disagreeable things 
 are; and this is certainly as disagreeable for poor little 
 Ellaline as it was meant to be disagreeable for me. 
 
 Mrs. Senter excused herself for telling me horrid 
 tales about my people by saying that my ignorance 
 gave me the air of being ungrateful to Sir Lionel, and 
 unappreciative of all he had done for me. That he, 
 being a man, was likely to blame me for extravagance 
 and indifference to benefits received, although aware, 
 when he actually reflected on the subject, that I sinned 
 through ignorance. She thought (said she) that it 
 would be only fair to tell me the whole truth, as I could 
 then change my line of conduct accordingly; but she 
 hoped I would n't give her away to Sir Lionel or Dick, 
 as she was speaking for my sake. 
 
 When I had promised, she informed me that "my 
 mother," Ellaline de Nesville, a distant cousin of Lionel
 
 SET IN SILVER 355 
 
 Pendragon's, was engaged to him when they were both 
 very young. There was a lawsuit going on at the time 
 about some tin mines in Cornwall, from which most of 
 his money came, for the property was claimed by a man 
 from another branch of the family, who suddenly 
 appeared waving a marriage certificate or a will, or some- 
 thing melodramatic. Well, the lawsuit was decided 
 for the other man, just about the time that Sir Lionel 
 (who was n't Sir Lionel then) got shot in the arm and 
 seemed likely to be a cripple for life. Both blows 
 coming together were too much for Mademoiselle de 
 Nesville, who was fascinating and pretty, but apparently 
 a frightful little cat as well as flirt, so she promptly bolted 
 with an intimate friend of her fiance, a Mr. Frederic 
 Lethbridge, rich and "well connected." They ran 
 off and were married in Scotland, as Ellaline the 
 second expects to be. (Odd how even profane history 
 repeats itself!) And this though Mr. Lethbridge knew 
 his friend was desperately in love with the girl. 
 
 What happened immediately after I don't know, 
 except that Mrs. Senter says Sir Lionel was horribly 
 cut up, and lost his interest in life. But anyhow, sooner 
 or later, the lawsuit, which had gone to a higher court, 
 was, after all, decided in his favour. The other man 
 turned out to be a fraud, and retired into oblivion with 
 his wills and marriage certificates. Meanwhile, Ella- 
 line Number One awoke to the fact that her husband 
 was n't as rich as he was painted, or as nice as she 
 had fancied. Some of his people were millionaires, 
 but he had run through a good deal of his fortune 
 because he was mad about gambling. At first, when
 
 356 SETINSILVER 
 
 the bride supposed that there was heaps of money, she 
 enjoyed gambling, too, and they were always at Long- 
 champs, or Chantilly, or the English race-courses, or 
 at Aix or Monte Carlo. By and by, though, when she 
 found that they were being ruined, she tried to pull her 
 husband up but it was too late; or else he was the 
 sort of person who can't be stopped when he 's begun 
 running down hill. 
 
 Probably she regretted her cousin by that time, as he 
 was rich again, and likely to be richer, as well as very 
 distinguished. And when a few years later (while our 
 Ellaline was a baby) Frederic Lethbridge forged a mil- 
 lionaire uncle's name, and had to go to prison, she must 
 have regretted Sir Lionel still more, for she was a little 
 creature who loved pleasure, and hardly knew how to 
 bear trouble. 
 
 Mrs. Senter said that Mr. Lethbridge had been sure 
 the uncle would shield him rather than have a scandal 
 in the family, and so it was a great surprise to him to 
 be treated like an ordinary criminal. When he was 
 sentenced to several years in prison, after a sensational 
 trial, he contrived to hang himself, and was found stone- 
 dead in his cell. His widow had to go and live with some 
 dull, disagreeable relations in the country, who thought 
 it their duty to take her and the baby for a consideration, 
 and there she died of disappointment and galloping con- 
 sumption, leaving a letter for her jilted cousin Lionel, 
 in Bengal, which begged him to act as guardian for her 
 child. All the money she had at her death was a few 
 thousand pounds, of which she had never been able to 
 touch anything but the income, about two hundred
 
 SET IN SILVER 357 
 
 pounds a year; and that sum, Mrs. Senter gave me to 
 understand, constituted my sole right to consider myself 
 an heiress. 
 
 Despite the shameful way in which she had behaved 
 to him, Sir Lionel accepted the charge, eventually took 
 his cousin's little girl away from the disagreeable rela- 
 tives, and put her at Madame de Maluet's, where Mother 
 Ellaline was educated and particularly desired her 
 daughter to be educated. Not only did he pay for her 
 keep at one of the most expensive schools in France 
 (Madame's is that, and she prides herself on the fact), 
 but gave her an allowance "far too large for a school- 
 girl " in the opinion of Mrs., Senter's unknown (to me) 
 informant. 
 
 Does n't this account for everything that looked 
 strange, and for all that appeared cold-hearted, almost 
 cruel, in Sir Lionel to Ellaline, who had heard the wrong 
 side of the story, certainly from Madame de Blanche- 
 main a silly woman, I fancy and perhaps even 
 from Madame de Maluet, whose favourite pupil Ellaline 
 the First was ? 
 
 No wonder Sir Lionel did n't write to the child, or 
 want her to write to him, or send her photograph, or 
 anything! And no wonder he dreaded having her 
 society thrust on him when Madame de Maluet hinted 
 that it was hardly decent to keep his ward at school any 
 longer. I even understand now why, when I show the 
 slightest sign of flirtatiousness or skittishness, he stiffens 
 up, and draws into his shell. 
 
 I very politely let Mrs. Senter see that I appreciated 
 her true disinterestedness in repeating to me this tragic
 
 358 SET IN SILVER 
 
 family history; and of course she was a cat twice over 
 to do it. At the same time, I never liked her so much 
 in my life, because it was so splendid to have Sir Lionel 
 not only justified (he hardly needed that with me, at 
 this stage) but haloed. I think he has behaved like a 
 saint on a stained-glass window, don't you? 
 
 I have interrupted my letter about places and things 
 tremendously, to tell you the story as it was told to me; 
 but it seemed to come in appropriately, and I wanted 
 you to know it, so that you might begin to appreciate 
 Sir Lionel at his true worth in case you have been 
 doubting him a little up to now. 
 
 Everyone has gone down to dinner, I 'm afraid, and I 
 must go, too, because of the Abbey afterward, and not 
 keeping them waiting; but perhaps, if I skip soup and 
 fish, I may stop long enough to add that after Gloucester 
 we went to quaint old Ross, sacred to the memory of 
 "The Man of Ross," who was so revered that a most 
 lovely view over the River Wye has been named for 
 him. We had lunch there, at a hotel where I should love 
 to stay, and then passed on, along a perfect road, down 
 the Wye, till we came to Kerne Bridge, near Goodrich 
 Castle. There we got out, leaving Buddha as the god 
 in the car, and walked for half a mile along a romantic 
 path to the ruined castle. It was one of the first built 
 in England, and there are early Norman parts of it still 
 intact, and incredibly strong looking, as if they meant 
 to last another thousand years. I was so interested in 
 it, and wish whoever it may concern would leave the 
 castle to me in his will. I would fix up a room or two 
 and bring you there, and we 'd have that exquisite view
 
 SETINSILVER 359 
 
 always under our eyes. As for servants, we could employ 
 ghosts. 
 
 The Wye is even more charming as a river and as a 
 valley than we used to imagine when we wanted to 
 "do" England, before it burst upon us that most of the 
 wherewithal was used up. Nothing could be more 
 dreamy and daintily pretty than landscape and water- 
 scape, though here and there is a bit which might be 
 gray and grim if the beetling rocks were n't hatted with 
 moss and mantled with delicate green trees. Wherever 
 there is a boulder in the river, the bright water laughs 
 and plays round it, as if forbidding it to look stern. 
 
 The real way to see the Wye is n't by motor, but by 
 boat, I am sure, even though that may sound treacherous 
 to Apollo and disloyal to my petrol; but we did the best 
 we could, and went out of our way some miles to see 
 Symond's Yat, a queer, delightful, white village on a 
 part of the river which is particularly divine. There 's 
 a splendid rock, and the Yat is the rock, as well as the 
 village. Also there's a cave; but I wasn't sorry not 
 to stop and go in, lest Mrs. Senter might seize the 
 opportunity of telling me some other fearsome tale, 
 less welcome than the last. 
 
 In old days it used to take a week by coach from London 
 to Monmouth. Now, with a motor, I dare say we could 
 do it in one long, long day, if we tried. Only it would 
 be silly to try, because one would n't see anything, and 
 would make oneself a nuisance as a "road hog" to 
 everybody one met or passed. It was Monmouth we 
 came to next, after "digressing" to Symond's Yat, and 
 as it was nearly evening by that time, Sir Lionel decided
 
 360 SETINSILVER 
 
 to stay the night. He meant to start again in the morn- 
 ing; but Monmouth Castle, towering out of the river, 
 was so fine that it was a pity to leave it un visited, particu- 
 larly as Henry V., a special hero of Sir Lionel's (mine, 
 too!) was born there. Then we took an unplanned 
 eight-mile run to Raglan Castle, a magnificently im- 
 pressive ruin; and that is why we arrived so late to-day 
 at Tintern. 
 
 This letter has grown like Jack's beanstalk, until I 
 think I 'd better post it on my way to dinner, instead 
 of adding rhapsodies about moonlight in the Abbey. 
 I won't forget to put them in though, next time I write, 
 which will be almost immediately if not sooner. 
 Your even more loving than loquacious 
 
 AUDRIE.
 
 XXVIII 
 
 MRS. SENTER TO HER SISTER, MRS. BURDEN 
 
 Tintern Abbey 
 
 MY DEAR Sis: He came, the moon saw, and I did n't 
 conquer ! 
 
 You know what I mean ? I 'm sure you remember 
 what I hoped to do at Tintern Abbey by the light of 
 the moon; and if you are the good elder sister I think 
 you are, I trust you prayed for my success. If you did, 
 don't mind too much about the prayer not being an- 
 swered, but try again, and give Sir Lionel "absent 
 treatments," and all that sort of thing, because, if the 
 moon had been properly turned on, he might have been 
 brought to the point. For I look my best by moonlight, 
 and have a great gift of pathos in a white light like 
 heroines of melodrama who always have themselves 
 followed about by it on purpose or else by a patch 
 of snow. But the moon was only on at half-cock, and 
 did n't work well, and after we had stubbed our toes 
 on several things in dark shadows among the ruins, 
 I just folded up my plan of campaign, and put it into 
 my pocket until next time. 
 
 The pity of it ! when I had been at a lot of trouble 
 to persuade Mrs. Norton that it would be damp in the 
 Abbey, and that there exists a special kind of bat which 
 361
 
 362 SET IN SILVER 
 
 haunts ruins and is consumed by an invincible desire 
 to nest in the front hair. So she stopped in the hotel; 
 and as for Miss Lethbridge, I knew I could trust Dick 
 to look after her. But well, it can't be helped, and 
 the moon is growing bigger and brighter every night. 
 I don't know whether there were any toe-stubbing 
 incidents in the ranks of the rear-guard; but something 
 must have happened, for mademoiselle has come home 
 looking stricken. I 'm dying to hear what 's the matter, 
 but Dick won't tell. Perhaps she swallowed a bat ! 
 
 Yours (would that I could say Sir L.'s) ever lovingly, 
 
 GWEN.
 
 XXIX 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 T intern Abbey 
 
 Same night 
 
 AFTER all, I 'm writing again, darling mother. I do 
 think that Dick is an unmitigated cad. I told him so, 
 and he said it was only because I was so unkind to him, 
 and he was determined I shouldn't "chuck" him. He 
 is hateful! It 's too horrid to be obliged to obey Dick 
 Burden's orders, just for Ellaline's sake, when if it 
 were n't for her I could not only tell him what I think 
 of him, but have him sent away in disgrace. Sir Lionel 
 would thrash him, I believe, if he knew but it 's 
 useless to talk about that. And as Dick gracefully 
 reminds me, the pot can't call the kettle black. I am 
 the pot. Oh! 
 
 I was in such a happy mood when we went into the 
 Abbey, and so delighted that we were able to be there 
 by moonlight, dreaming as little of what would happen 
 as Red Riding Hood did before she met the wolf. 
 
 Sir Lionel and I started together, somehow, but the 
 minute we were in the ruins Mrs. Senter called him 
 to ask a question about the tombs that break the soft 
 green carpet of grass in the long aisles. Instantly 
 Dick pounced on me, just as his aunt did in the cave 
 363
 
 364 SETINSILVER 
 
 the other day, and I could only have got away from him 
 by showing that I d' rather be with Sir Lionel 
 which, of course, I would n't do. 
 
 Dick began at once accusing me of avoiding him, and 
 keeping out of his way on purpose when he tried to 
 speak with me alone, ever since he came back from 
 Scotland; and I retorted flippantly: "Oh, have you 
 only noticed that since then ? " 
 
 But in a minute I wished I had n't defied him. He 
 said, if I wanted him to be considerate, making him 
 angry wasn't the right way to set about it; and that, 
 if I had been in his power before, I was a good deal 
 deeper in now. 
 
 Still, I was n't so very frightened, because I 'm used 
 to his threats, and I thought he was only "bluffing"; 
 so I bluffed back, and laughed, saying that it did n't 
 suit his style to be melodramatic. 
 
 "You make me want to shake you," he said, crossly. 
 
 "I know that," said I. And then he burst like a 
 thunder-cloud at least, his news did ; the news he 
 had been wanting to tell me since Bideford. 
 
 When he was in Scotland, he saw Ellaline. She had 
 arrived with those McNamarras I told you about, and 
 their place must be near the one where Dick's mother 
 is visiting. He recognized her from that photograph 
 of the school garden-party (where he saw my picture, 
 too, you know, and was able to find out my name, and 
 where we live in Versailles). That is, he thought he 
 could n't be mistaken, but made sure by inquiring, 
 until he hit upon someone who could tell him that a 
 Mademoiselle de Nesville had come to stay with Mrs.
 
 SET IN SILVER 365 
 
 and Miss McNamarra. Of course, he could n't have 
 known that Ellaline had taken the name of de Nesville, 
 but as he had heard that de Nesville was her mother's 
 maiden name, it was n't difficult for a budding Sherlock 
 Holmes to put two and two together. 
 
 You see how much worse the position is now, both 
 for Ellaline and me, and that the little wretch did n't 
 exaggerate when he boasted that I 'm more " in his 
 power" than ever. What a misfortune that Ellaline 
 should have come to Scotland so near where we shall 
 be, too, if we go to the Roman Wall! He has only 
 to tell the whole thing to Sir Lionel, and say: "If you 
 don't believe it, run up to such and such a place, and there 
 you will see the real Ellaline Lethbridge, whom perhaps 
 you may recognize from her likeness to your cousin, 
 her dead French mother." 
 
 If only Ellaline were safely married! But she can't 
 be yet, for days and days, I 'm afraid. She was to 
 have written or telegraphed me at Gloucester, if there 
 were any chance of her soldier lover getting away sooner 
 than last expected; but I had no word from her at all, 
 at the Poste Restante there. 
 
 All that sounds bad enough for me, does n't it ? But 
 there 's worse to come. The wretch swears he will (as he 
 calls it), "give the show away" to Sir Lionel to-morrow 
 if I don't tell Sir L. myself that I have fallen in love 
 with Dick. 
 
 I said that Sir Lionel would n't believe me if I did, 
 because I 'd told him at Torquay I was n't in love with 
 Dick. That admission slipped out, and Sherlock Holmes 
 caught at it. " Ah, I thought you 'd done something to
 
 366 SET IN SILVER 
 
 put him off the scent ! " he flashed out. " I call that down- 
 right treacherous of you; and all the more I '11 hold 
 you down to your bargain this time. I said I 'd speak 
 to-morrow unless you did what I told you to do, but 
 now I say I '11 speak this minute, if you don't promise 
 by all that 's sacred to ask him for his consent to-morrow. 
 I'll shout to him now. One two three!" 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will ! " I cried because Dick had worked 
 himself up to such a fury that I saw that he meant what 
 he said. 
 
 "I shall know fast enough whether you keep your 
 word or not," he growled. "And if you don't, you 
 understand just what you have to expect." 
 
 If I had n't given in to Ellaline ! I ought to have 
 known that nothing but trouble could some of it. Yet 
 no I won't wish it undone. I can't! No matter 
 what happens, I shall never really regret what gave 
 me the chance of meeting a man like Sir Lionel. I don't 
 think there is another in the world. And to-morrow 
 I am to have the honour of informing him that I 'm in 
 love with that little worm, Dick Burden. Having seen 
 the sun, I love a flicker of phosphorus on a sulphur 
 match. 
 
 Do write me the minute you get this, won't you ? 
 No, telegraph if you can think of anything consoling 
 to say. Poste Restante, Chester. 
 
 Your frightened and loving 
 
 AUDRIE.
 
 XXX 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Aberystwith 
 
 August 29th 
 
 BRIGHTEST AND BEST : I have a short reprieve, because 
 Dick has had to go away again; not to his mother, this 
 time, but to London. A telegram was forwarded to him 
 from Gloucester, where he had left sending-on instruc- 
 tions; and he knocked at my door early yesterday morn- 
 ing (at Tintern) to say he must leave immediately by 
 the first train. He was excited, because the telegram came 
 from the head of a firm of well-known private detectives 
 with whom he had been in correspondence for some time, 
 trying to buy a junior partnership for a few hundreds 
 left him by his grandmother. There 's a chance now 
 that he may get the partnership, only he must be on the 
 spot, as another man is making an offer "more advan- 
 tageous in some ways." Dick is wild to get in, and 
 regards this as the opportunity of a lifetime. Does n't 
 that prove the type of mind he has? Actually yearn- 
 ing to be in business as a detective! Well, he 's had 
 good practice lately, and I must say he has made the 
 most of it. 
 
 " This call could n't have come at a worse time, but 
 I must obey it," he pronounced solemnly, while I peeped 
 367
 
 368 SETINSILVER 
 
 through my half-open door, in my prettiest Ellaline 
 dressing-gown far too nice to waste on Dick. Dis- 
 gusted with life, as I was, I nearly laughed in his face, 
 and at his face; but dared not quite, for fear of enraging 
 him again just when he appeared to be in a comparatively 
 lenient mood. 
 
 He had come to explain and apologize, and in his 
 perky conceit really seemed to fancy that I might be hurt 
 at his desertion. So when he asked if I would " bid him 
 good-bye pleasantly, and remember to keep my promise," 
 I had a small inspiration. I would bid him good-bye 
 pleasantly, I bargained, provided he let me off keeping 
 the promise until he should come back; because, I said, 
 it would be humiliating to plead with Sir Lionel on the 
 very day my fiance turned his back upon me in order 
 to attend to mere business. 
 
 "You call this mere business?" sputtered Dick; and I 
 soothed him, but persisted firmly, gently, until at last 
 he agreed to grant the reprieve. I think his own vanity, 
 not my eloquence, obtained the concession, because it 
 pleased him to believe that I leaned upon him in this 
 crisis. And of course I had to promise over again, 
 more earnestly than ever, "not to back out, but to stick 
 to my word." 
 
 I must still stick to it, of course (unless a wire or letter 
 from you meanwhile suggests some miraculous, agree- 
 able, honourable alternative); but sufficient for the day 
 is the evil thereof and the Dick thereof. 
 
 This day and several days to come are free from both; 
 for my albatross can't arrange the details of its 
 partnership, sell out some investments in order to pay
 
 SET IN SILVER 369 
 
 the money down, and join us again before Chester. 
 There I shall certainly hear from you; and I have such 
 infinite faith in your dove-like serpentineness, that I let 
 myself cling to the ragged edge of hope. Meanwhile, 
 I shall enjoy myself as much as I possibly can, so that, 
 at worst, I shall have more good days to remember when 
 bad days come. For the days will be very bad indeed 
 if I have to bear Sir Lionel's silent scorn, and still remain 
 with him, awaiting release from Ellaline. 
 
 I felt like a different human being after Dick had gone, 
 and would have written you at once, but he had delayed 
 me so long that I had to finish dressing at top speed, 
 because we were to make an earlier start than usual. 
 There was Chepstow Castle to see (quite near, and a 
 shame to have missed it), as well as a hundred-and-fifty- 
 mile run to Tenby. 
 
 Chepstow was splendidly picturesque and striking; 
 but the country through which we had to pass on the 
 way to Tenby would not have been particularly inter- 
 esting if it were n't for the legends and history with 
 which it is as full as it is of ruined castles. It is largely 
 coal country now, and after the lovely, winding Wye, 
 playing hide-and-seek with its guardian hills, we might 
 have found the road unattractive as we ran through 
 Newport, Cardiff, Neath, Swansea, and Carmarthen. 
 But it made all the difference in the world to know that 
 Carmarthen was Merlin's birthplace; that stories of 
 Arthur's exploits and knightly deeds leave golden land- 
 marks everywhere; and that it seems quite an ordinary, 
 reasonable thing to the people to name railway engines 
 after Sir Lancelot. Is n't it charming of them ? Yet
 
 370 SETINSILVER 
 
 what would Elaine, the Lily Maid of Astolat, say to 
 such a liberty, I wonder ? 
 
 We arrived in Tenby too late for anything save an 
 impression, last evening; but it was one of those enchant- 
 ing, mysterious impressions which one can only have 
 after dusk, when each old ivied wall is purple with 
 romance, and each lamp in a high window is a lovelight. 
 
 My first thought as we came in and found Tenby 
 on fire with sunset, was that the place looked like a 
 foreign town set down in England; and so of course it is, 
 for it was founded by a band of Flemish people, who 
 fled from persecution. The huge old city walls and 
 quaint gates put me in mind of a glorified Boulogne, or 
 a bit of old Dinan, under the castle. And the way the 
 town lies, with its beautiful harbour far below, its gray 
 rocks and broken walls by the sea, in golden sands, is 
 like Turner's ideas of historic French fortresses. The 
 Benedictine monks, too, who come across the gleaming 
 stretch of water from Caldy Island in a green-and-red 
 steam yacht, add one more foreign note. And I 'm 
 delighted to tell you that the hotel where we stayed is 
 built upon the city wall of which nobody seems to know 
 the date not even the guide-books. The people we 
 asked rather apologized for having to confess that prob- 
 ably it was no earlier than the twelfth century; for the 
 twelfth century is considered crudely modern for Welsh 
 things. 
 
 In front of my bedroom window an old lookout tower, 
 darkly veined with ivy, stood up from the vast foundation 
 of the stone wall; and at night I could gaze down, down, 
 over what seemed in the moon-mist to be a mile of depth,
 
 SETINSILVER 371 
 
 to an almost tropical garden laid out on the wall itself. 
 When the tide comes in and drowns the gold of the sands, 
 the sea breaks against the buttress of rock and stone, and 
 the hotel seems all surrounded with the wash and foam 
 of waters, like a fortified castle of long-ago. 
 
 We ought to have stopped more than one night and 
 part of a next day, but there is so much, so much to do; 
 and, as I told you, Sir Lionel's thoughts are already 
 marching on toward home. There are all the beauty 
 spots of Wales before us; and the Lake Country, and 
 the North by the Roman Wall, before we turn south 
 again for Graylees. I say "we" but you know what 
 I mean. 
 
 The run we had to-day, coming through Cardigan to 
 Aberystwith, has begun to show me what Wales can do 
 in the way of beauty when she really puts her soul to it; 
 but Sir Lionel says it is nothing to what we shall see 
 to-morrow. What joy that I have still a to-morrow 
 and a day after to-morrow empty of Dick! Do you 
 suppose a condemned person finds his last sip of life the 
 sweetest in the cup ? I can imagine it might be so. 
 
 You '11 be glad to get this, I 'm sure, dearest, so I '11 
 send it at once, with loads and loads of love from, 
 
 YOUR CRIMINAL CHILD. 
 
 P. S. I forgot to tell you that Aberystwith isn't 
 nearly as beautiful as Tenby, but it has a castle tower- 
 ing over the sea, built by no one less than Gilbert Strongbow 
 the Cruel, who grabbed all Cardiganshire for himself, 
 and dotted castles about everywhere or else stole 
 other people's, which saved trouble. I know you like
 
 372 SET IN SILVER 
 
 to picture me wherever I am, so I must tell you at least 
 that about Aberystwith, though describing places seems 
 irrelevant in my present mood. I am keyed to the 
 " top notch," and don't feel able to do anything leisurely. 
 I do not expect to sleep to-night, and shall get up as soon 
 as it 's light, and dart down to the beach to look for amber, 
 or carnelian, or onyx, which they say can be found here. 
 I asked a chambermaid of the hotel, after we arrived this 
 evening, what all the mysterious, stooping people were 
 doing on the sands, and she said searching for amber, 
 to bring them luck. I hope I may come across a bit 
 even a tiny bit. I am needing a luck-bringer. 
 
 There was another mystery which puzzled me here: 
 droves of pretty girls, between twelve and twenty, flit- 
 ting past the windows, on "the front," every few minutes; 
 sometimes two by two, sometimes four or five together. 
 I thought I had never seen so many young girls. 
 There were enough for the girl population of a large 
 city, yet here they were all crowded together in this 
 small watering-place. But the chambermaid has swept 
 away the mystery. It 's a college, and the girls " live out" 
 in different houses. At the other end of the town is 
 another college for young men. That sounds entertaining, 
 does n't it ?
 
 XXXI 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Pen-y-gwrd-Hotel 
 
 August 30th 
 
 DEAR ROSE-WITHOUT-A-THORN: I didn't find the 
 amber, but Sir Lionel found a fat little, round lump, 
 and gave it to me; and that seems almost more lucky 
 than finding it myself; because it may mean that some- 
 thing good is to come to me from him. 
 
 He was on the Aberystwith beach when I got there, 
 though it was only half-past six. He had n't said a 
 word the night before, but he made up his mind 
 then to find some amber for me. You see, he knew 
 the superstition about luck, and how everybody goes 
 hunting for it. 
 
 I picked up a pretty piece of carnelian, and gave it 
 to him in exchange, asking him "to keep it to remember 
 me by." 
 
 "I don't want to remember you," he answered. 
 And when, perhaps, I looked hurt, he went on: 
 "Because I want to keep you in my life. I want you 
 very much, if " 
 
 But just then Mrs. Senter came behind us, and left that 
 "if" like a key sticking in a door which couldn't be 
 opened without one more turn. I should have liked to 
 373
 
 374 SET IN SILVER 
 
 know what was behind the door; but I daresay there 
 was nothing much, really. 
 
 She, too, had come to look for amber and other things. 
 I don't know about the other things, but she did n't find 
 the amber. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, after seeing something of the 
 place, we slipped away toward Machynlleth, along a 
 hilly road, which grew lovelier with each of its many 
 twists among low mountains. Now, said Sir Lionel, 
 we were about to see the heart of Wales; and I should 
 soon have realized that without his telling, for as we slowed 
 down to pass through little villages we heard the children 
 talking Welsh a soft, pleasant language, which I 
 can only try to describe by saying that it sounded like 
 whispering out loud. But that is a very Irish 
 description! 
 
 The scenery was so gentle in its beauty that my wild, 
 excited mood was lulled by its soft influence. The 
 colour of landscape and sky kept the delicate tints of 
 spring, though we are in full, rich summer; and there 
 was none of the tropical verdure we saw near Tenby; 
 no crimson fountains of fuchsias, no billows of blood- 
 red roses, and fierce southern flowers. Pale honey- 
 suckle draped the gray or whitewashed stone cottages. 
 Rocks and crannies of walls were daintily fringed with 
 ferns, or cushioned with the velvet of moss, and crusted 
 with tarnished golden lichen. A modern-timbered 
 house, rising pertly here and there, looked out of place 
 among dwellings whose early owners quarried each stone 
 from among their own mountains. 
 
 As we left the fairy glades of those wooded hills for
 
 SET IN SILVER 375 
 
 rugged mountains scantily clad with ragged grass, slate- 
 quarries tried their ugly best to blotch and spoil the 
 scene, but owing to some strange charm of atmosphere, 
 like a gauze veil on the stage, they could not quite 
 succeed. By and by the gauze veil turned to rain, but 
 rain suited the wild landscape far better, by the 
 way, than it suited Mrs. Senter, whose nightly hair- 
 wavers are but a reed to lean upon in wet weather. 
 She made some excuse to come behind with Emily 
 and me, and before the car started again I summoned 
 courage to ask if I might take her place, saying I loved 
 to feel the rain. 
 
 So there I was with Sir Lionel once more; and I won- 
 dered if he thought of that night when we rushed through 
 the storm from Tintagel to Clovelly? Soon this also 
 bade fair to be a storm, for the rain began to tumble out 
 of the sky, rather than fall, as if an army of people stood 
 throwing down water by the bucketful. I revelled in it, 
 and in the sombre scenery, where sharp rocks stood out 
 like bones through the tattered green coats of soldier- 
 mountains. All the world was gray or gray-green, save 
 for a patch of purple heather here and there, like the 
 stain of a new wound. 
 
 We were under Cadir Idris, mounting the pass high 
 above a deep ravine; yet the blowing rain hid the moun- 
 tain from our eyes as if he were the veiled prophet. 
 The sound of the wind, which seemed to come from all 
 quarters at once, was like the mysterious music of a 
 great ^Eolian harp, as it mingled with the song of 
 ghostly cascades that veined the dark rocks with marble. 
 Mountain sheep sprang from crag to crag as Apollo
 
 376 SET IN SILVER 
 
 rounded a corner and broke into their tranquil lives, 
 now and then loosening a stone as they jumped. One 
 good-sized rock would have bounced down on the roof 
 of our car if Sir Lionel had n't seen it coming, and put 
 on such a spurt of speed that Apollo leaped ahead of 
 the danger. But he always does see things in time. 
 You would n't think sheep could have as much expres- 
 sion as those sheep had, when they saw us and were n't 
 sure which way to run. Of course they need n't have 
 run at all; but whichever way they decided, it was 
 certain to be wrong! 
 
 I was sorry to leave that pass behind, and have its 
 door shut after us, for we came out into a pastoral land- 
 scape, where the only wild things were the grazing black 
 cattle. It was charming country, though; and in less 
 than a mile we had reached a famous spot known as the 
 Tourist Walk. The rain was pelting down harder than 
 ever, so we could not get out and take the walk; but soon 
 after we had abandoned it the deluge suddenly turned 
 from lead to a thick spray of diamonds, mixed with 
 sparkling gold-dust. Our road glittered ahead of us like 
 a wide silver ribbon unrolled, as we sailed into the little 
 gray town of Dolgelly on its torrent river; and beyond, 
 in a fresh-washed radiance of sunlight, the way was one 
 long enchantment, the sweet world of green hills and 
 musical waters looking as young as if God had made 
 it that day. The graceful mountains which pressed 
 round the valley had the air of waiting each her turn 
 to stoop and drink a life-giving draught from the river, 
 which, as we neared Barmouth, opened to the sea, gleam- 
 ing like a vast sheet of quicksilver. Further on, travelling
 
 SET IN SILVER 377 
 
 through woods where young green trees shot up from 
 gilded rocks, glimpses of the estuary came to us like a 
 vision of some Italian lake. 
 
 Just before Harlech, the wild yet nymphlike beauty 
 of the world changed to an almost startling grandeur, 
 for the coast moved back from the sea with a noble sweep, 
 magnificent mountains towered along the shore, and 
 line after line of beryl waves shattered into pearl upon a 
 beach of darkened gold. 
 
 Harlech Castle was an event in my life. I thought I 
 had begun to take ruined castles for granted in 
 Wales, as you do sea-shells on the shore; but Harlech 
 is a castle that you could n't take for granted. It was 
 a shock at first to find that a hotel had been built in the 
 very face of it, as if bearding it in its den; yet it is a 
 nice hotel; and when we had lunched there agreeably, 
 I not only forgave it for existing, but began to like and 
 thank it for having thoughtfully placed itself on that 
 admirable height. 
 
 From here our eyes ought to have been smitten with 
 the sight of Snowdon; but the Grand Old Mountain 
 was asleep, his head buried in white cloud-pillows 
 which alone betrayed his whereabouts; so we had to 
 be content with the castle. And I was content. 
 To see the splendid ruin reared on its great rock, 
 dark against sea and sky, was thrilling as a vision 
 of an old wounded knight girding his strength for a 
 last stand. 
 
 History says that Harlech Castle is no older than 
 Edward I.; but story says (which is more important, 
 because more romantic) that in the dim dawn while
 
 378 SET IN SILVER 
 
 History still dozed, here rose the Tower of Twr Brauwen, 
 white-bosomed sister of Bran the Blessed. Also, it came 
 into the possession of Hawis Gadern, a great beauty 
 and heiress, whose uncles tried to wrest it from her, 
 but were defeated and imprisoned in the castle. Any- 
 way, however that may be, Owen Glendower came and 
 conquered, in the beginning of the fifteenth century, 
 when he was forging a chain of wonderful deeds which 
 made him the hero of Wales. Never mind if he was 
 driven away a few years after by Prince Henry. That 's 
 another story. 
 
 The way from Harlech by Portmadoc to exquisite 
 Pont Aberglaslyn and Beddgelert is very Arthurian; 
 that is, it suggests pre-mediseval backgrounds, and at 
 every turn I caught myself expecting to come upon 
 Camelot, unspoiled, unchanged. The high mountains 
 still wore their invisibility masks, but the lower moun- 
 tains, not too proud to show themselves to motoring 
 mortals, grouped as graciously together as if they 
 were lovely ladies and gay knights, turned to stone 
 just when they had assembled to tread a minuet. 
 And the fair Glaslyn flowed past their feet with a 
 swing and sweep, as though the crystal flood kept 
 time to dance music which our ears were not attuned 
 to catch. 
 
 Quickly we flashed by more than one beautiful lake, 
 too; a jewel hidden among mountains, found by 
 our eyes unexpectedly, only to be lost again. And all 
 the while Cader Idris and Snowdon drew hoods of mist 
 over their heads, pulling them down tightly and firmly. 
 Not once had we caught a glimpse of either mountain,
 
 SET IN SILVER 379 
 
 though we were almost near enough to knock our noses 
 or Apollo's bonnet against their sharp elbows; but we 
 were too happy to care much at least, one of us was ! 
 and we cared even less when rain came on again. I 
 still kept my place beside Sir Lionel, who was repentant 
 for having made me cry over the dreadful, agonizing, 
 too-tragic story of Gelert. I won't repeat it to you, 
 because it 's wickedly sad, and gray hound Gelert was so 
 much nobler than most people. 
 
 Sheets of spun glass shimmered and waved before us, 
 as we rushed on through the mountains, past the beau- 
 tiful place of Gelert's grave, up toward Pen-y-gwrd. 
 And the tinkling swish of the rain on the glass sounded 
 to me as the Welsh names had begun to sound. I wish 
 you could hear them spoken, for the spelling gives no 
 idea of their pronunciation, or the pleasant, muffled 
 music of them. But all I can tell you is, that when 
 you come into Wales you will feel they are char- 
 acteristic of the country; mysterious, sympathetic, rather 
 secretive. 
 
 Sir Lionel was happy in the thought of Pen-y-gwrd, 
 because some of the best memories of his boyhood 
 are associated with that little spot in the moun- 
 tainland of Wales. He used to come, and climb 
 with an old friend a few years older than himself, a 
 Colonel O'Hagan, who is in Bengal now, and who 
 he thinks will like me. Not much chance of our 
 ever meeting ! 
 
 Just as Sir Lionel finished quoting Charles Kingsley 
 on Pen-y-gwrd, we drew up in front of a low gray stone 
 building; and Kingsley's merry words rang in my ears
 
 380 SET IN SILVER 
 
 as the door of the hotel opened. You know I can always 
 remember a verse after having once heard it. 
 
 "There is no Inn in Snowden which is not awful dear, 
 Excepting Pen-y-gwrd (you can't pronounce it, dear) 
 Which standeth in the meeting of noble valleys three; 
 One is the Vale of Gwynant, so well beloved by me; 
 One goes to Capel Curig, and I can't mind its name; 
 And one, it is Llanberis Pass, which all men knew the same." 
 
 Never did any gesture give a better welcome than the 
 opening of that door! We 'd been too happy to know 
 we were cold with the chill of the mountains half -seen 
 shapes that hovered close, with white cascades like ghosts 
 flitting ever across their dimness; but when a glow of 
 firelight streamed out to greet us, suddenly we realized 
 that we were shivering. 
 
 In the square hall, several men were talking together, 
 men with Oxford voices and open-air faces. In their 
 midst was one man, much older, grizzled and weather- 
 beaten, not a gentleman in the conventional sense, yet 
 in listening to him the others had an air of deference, 
 as if he were a hero to the group. The four or five figures 
 stood out like a virile, impressionist sketch in black and 
 brown on a red background; but as we entered, welcomed 
 by some pink-cheeked young hostess, the ruddy light 
 danced into our eyes. The men in front of the fire 
 moved a little as if to give place, and glances were thrown 
 at us, while for an instant the conversation flagged. 
 Then the group was about to return to its own interests, 
 when suddenly, out from among the rest stepped the 
 grizzled man. He hesitated, as if uncertain whether 
 or no to obey an impulse, then came forward with a 
 modest yet eager air.
 
 SET IN SILVER 381 
 
 "I can't be mistaken, sir, can I? he asked. "It 
 must be Mr. Pendragon I beg your pardon, Sir Li " 
 
 "Why, Penrhyn!" cried Sir Lionel, not giving him 
 time to finish; and seizing one of the gnarled brown 
 hands, he shook it as if he never meant to stop. Both 
 their faces had lighted up, and were beaming with joy. 
 The grizzled man seemed to have thrown off fifteen 
 years in a minute, and Sir Lionel looked like a 
 boy of twenty -two. By this time everyone was 
 gazing staring is too rude a word and the other 
 faces were beaming as well, as if the most delightful 
 thing had happened. I am sure that Sir Lionel had 
 forgotten the existence of us three females, and had 
 rushed back to the bright dawn of his youth. It was 
 the light of that dawn I saw on his face; and I found 
 my heart beating with excitement, though I did n't 
 know why, or what it was all about. 
 
 "By Jove, Penrhyn, to think of your being the first 
 man to greet me on our old stamping-ground ! " Sir Lionel 
 exclaimed. "It seems too good to be true. I've been 
 thinking about you all day, and your face is a sight for 
 sore eyes." 
 
 " I 'd rather see you, sir, than have a thousand pounds 
 drop down on me through the ceiling," retorted the 
 mysterious hero. (I should think so, indeed.) 
 
 They shook hands, and beamed on each other a little 
 more, and then Sir Lionel remembered his flock. Turn- 
 ing to us, he introduced the grizzled man. 
 
 "This is my old friend and guide, Owen Penrhyn," 
 said he, as if he were drawing us into the circle of a prince. 
 -'There never was a guide like him in the Welsh mountains,
 
 382 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and never will be again. Jove! it 's glorious to find him 
 at the old business still! Though, in our day together, we 
 did n't carry this, eh ? " 
 
 Then I saw that an Alpine rope was coiled across one 
 of the strong shoulders clad in rough tweed, and that 
 the great stout boots were strikingly trimmed with huge 
 bright nails. 
 
 " It 's like Sir Lionel to put the praise on me," pro- 
 tested the dear old thing, flushing up like a boy. "Why, 
 he was the best amateur" (he pronounced the word 
 quaintly and I loved him for it) " I ever see, or ever expect 
 to see. If he 'd gone on as he began, he 'd a' broken 
 the noses of some of us guides. Pity he had to go to 
 furrin' parts! And I '11 be bound he never told you, 
 ladies, of his first ascent of Twll Ddu, or how he pulled 
 me up out of the torrent by sheer strength, when my 
 fingers were that cold I couldn't grip the hand-holds? 
 I 'd 'a' fallen clear to the bottom of the Devil's Kitchen 
 if't hadn't been for Mr. Pendragon, as he was then. 
 And what d' you think, ladies, he says, when I accused 
 him o' savin' my life?" 
 
 "What?" I begged to know, forgetting to give my 
 elders a chance to speak first. 
 
 " ' Tommy rot.' That 's his very words. I 've never 
 forgot 'em. 'Tommy rot.' " 
 
 He beamed on us, and every one in the hall 
 laughed, except perhaps Emily, who smiled doubtfully, 
 not sure whether or no it was to her brother's credit 
 to have remarked "Tommy rot" in such a crisis. 
 But after that, we were all friends, we, and Owen 
 Penrhyn, and the other men, too; for though we did n't
 
 SET IN SILVER 383 
 
 really talk to them till dinner, I knew by their eyes 
 that they admired Sir Lionel immensely, and wanted 
 to know us all. 
 
 At dinner there was splendid climbing talk, and we 
 heard further tales of Sir Lionel's prowess; among others 
 of a great jump he had made from one rock of Trifaen to 
 the other, with only a little square of rock to light upon, 
 just on the edge of a sheer precipice; a record feat, 
 according to the old guide. And while the men and 
 we women listened, the wind outside raged so wildly that 
 now and then it seemed as if a giant fell against the house 
 and afterward dashed pebbles against it in his fury. 
 Then again the wind-giant would rush by the hotel 
 in his hundred-horse-power motor-car, tooting his horn 
 as he went. It was nice sitting there* in the comfortable 
 dining-room, listening to the climbing stories, while the 
 wind roared and could n't get at us, and the whole valley 
 was full of marching rain! 
 
 Now I am writing in my bedroom, close to a gossipy 
 little fire, which is a delightful companion, although 
 August has still a day to run. Mrs. Senter is having 
 her beauty sleep, I suppose; and I should think Mrs. 
 Norton is reading Young's "Night Thoughts." I know 
 she takes the book about with her. The men are still in 
 the hall downstairs, very happy, if one can judge by the 
 laughter that breaks out often; and I am as happy as I 
 can be with the thought of Dick probably appearing at 
 Chester day after to-morrow night. But I won't let 
 myself think of that too much, because it is n't certain 
 that he will get back then, and it is certain that there 
 will be some word from you, which may change
 
 384 SETINSILVER 
 
 everything. You see what faith your girl has in you! 
 But would n't she be ungrateful if she had n't ? 
 ^ There is one other thing which has been bothering me 
 in odd moments, though, and I wish I had asked your 
 advice about that, too, in the letter to be answered at 
 Chester; but the idea had n't occurred to me then. It 
 suddenly sprang into my mind last night when I was lying 
 in bed, not able to go to sleep. 
 
 Ought I to repeat to Ellaline what Mrs. Senter told 
 me about the money? I don't mean the part about the 
 poor child's father and mother. No one but a thorough 
 Pig of the Universe would tell a daughter perfectly unnec- 
 essary horrors, like those; but about her not being an 
 heiress in her own right, and depending on Sir Lionel 
 for everything except two hundred a year ? 
 
 If I were really in her place, instead of pretending to 
 be, I should want to know, and should n't thank anyone 
 for keeping the truth from me. It would be unbearable 
 to accept generosity from a man, thinking I might be as 
 extravagant as I liked, with my own money. But it is 
 difficult to make up my mind, on account of the -fiance. 
 You, being French yourself, know how it is with French 
 officers who fall in love with a girl who has no dot, or only 
 a small one. Most of them, if poor themselves, would 
 slap their foreheads and despair, but think it their duty 
 to their country to forget the girl. 
 
 I 'm afraid the adorable Honore is rather poor; and 
 though no normal young man, especially a Frenchman, 
 could help being fascinated by Ellaline if thrown in her 
 society, many normal young men would be more ready 
 to let themselves go, believing her to be an heiress. Per-
 
 SET IN SILVER 385 
 
 haps Honore would n't have proposed if he had n't thought 
 Ellaline a very rich as well as a very pretty girl. Perhaps 
 if he found out even now, at the eleventh hour, that she 
 depends upon a person whom she has just slighted and 
 deceived, he might desert her. 
 
 Wouldn't that be awful? Not that I think Ellaline 
 would tell him, if I wrote to her exactly what I 've heard 
 from Mrs. Senter. Fascinating as she is, it is n't in her to 
 be frank. I 'm sure she would keep the secret until after 
 her lover was safely her husband; but she would be upset 
 and even more anxious about the future than she is. 
 
 I don't know what to do. And in the last letter I had 
 from her she scolded me for continually praising Sir 
 Lionel. She is sure I am mistaken about him, and that, 
 if I can see any good under the dragon's scales the evil 
 monster must have hypnotized me. She really seemed 
 quite vexed. Maybe I shall hear from her at Chester. 
 I hope so, as I 'm rather worried because she did n't 
 write to the last address I was able to give. 
 
 Whatever message your expected letter or telegram has 
 for me, I will answer it at once. 
 
 Good night, dearest little Dame Wisdom, with more 
 love than ever from 
 
 Your 
 
 AUDRIE. 
 
 I 'm so glad we are staying here all day to-morrow 
 and to-morrow night. There are dozens of beautiful 
 things to see; and besides, it is as safe as the inmost circle 
 of a labyrinth from Dick, who has no clue.
 
 XXXII, 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Queen's Hotel, Chester 
 
 September 1st 
 
 WE 'VE been in Chester for several hours, my Angel ; 
 and not only is there no Dick (for which heaven be 
 praised), but no word from you, which worries me. 
 Still, I shan't be really anxious unless on my second call 
 at the post-office (to be made by and by) I draw a blank 
 again. At least, I did n't draw a blank exactly when 
 I went there before. I drew a letter from Ellaline, with 
 vexing news. Honore de Guesclin is in a scrape. He 
 could get leave now, and come to her, but he and some 
 of his brother officers have been amusing themselves by 
 learning to play bridge. Naturally, those who played 
 best came off best, and Honore was n't one of them. 
 He has borrowed of a money-lender, and is in a hole, 
 because the fellow won't let him have more, and is 
 bothering for a settlement. Also, Honore owes some of 
 his friends, and has n't a penny to pay up or start on a 
 journey. Ellaline does n't seem to think much about 
 the moral aspect of her Honore's affairs (you see, she 
 knows nothing of what her mother must have suffered 
 from her father's penchant), but she is in a great state 
 of nerves about the delay. She has always been told it 
 386
 
 SETINSILVER 387 
 
 was bad Tuck to put off a wedding, and besides, she finds 
 Scotland triste, and wants to be married. 
 
 You can guess to what all this is leading up! I must 
 get money, somehow, anyhow, but a great deal, and 
 immediately. I must send her at least four thousand 
 francs by return of post; five thousand, if possible; but 
 if "Monsieur le Dragon is too stingy to give more, at 
 all events nothing less will be of the least use." 
 
 It 's easy for her to dictate terms. She has n't got to 
 face the very upright and honourable gentleman whom 
 she calls the Dragon, whereas I have; and I 've already 
 shamed myself by asking for large sums at short inter- 
 vals. I simply can't go to him here and "hold him 
 up" for four thousand francs. It would be monstrous, 
 and if he asked what I wanted to do with it (as it seems 
 to me it would be only his duty to ask the young school- 
 girl he thinks me) I should be able to find no decent 
 excuse, as I have no expenses beyond those he pays. 
 However, I shall have to do something desperate, I don't 
 know yet what. He has given me some pretty things, 
 and though I hate the thought of parting with them 
 in such a way, as they 're Ellaline's by rights, it 's no 
 more than fair she should benefit by them in the hour of 
 her need. Poor girl! Of course there's nothing for 
 it but she must marry the young man now, yet it seems 
 a poor outlook, does n't it ? 
 
 She explains in a P. S. that she was too upset to write 
 me to the last place, as she had n't heard from Honore 
 when she expected; but now, if the money is forth- 
 coming all right he will start for Scotland as soon as 
 possible after receiving it from her, and settling up.
 
 388 SETINSILVER 
 
 I have calculated times as well as I could, and fancy that 
 if I can in any way send her a post-office order from 
 Chester to-morrow, she and Honore may be able to marry 
 in a week. Once I should n't have believed I could 
 be sorry to have my "principal" arrive and take back 
 her own part; but now, if it weren't for Dick Burden, 
 it would actually be a temptation to me to delay Ellaline's 
 appearance on the scene. Of course, I would n't be such 
 a wicked wretch as to yield to the temptation, but I should 
 feel it. 
 
 Ellaline promises to telegraph the moment Honore 
 arrives, and again when they 're safely married, so as to 
 give the understudy plenty of time to scuttle off the stage, 
 before the guardian is informed that his charge has been 
 taken off his hands. She does n't want to see Sir Lionel, 
 she says, but she and Honore will write him unless, when 
 Honore has consulted a Scottish solicitor (if that 's what 
 they 're called), it 's considered wiser for the lawyer him- 
 self to write. So you see, this makes it harder for me 
 to know what to do about repeating Mrs. Senter's story. 
 If Ellaline understood her position she would, perhaps, 
 think it better to come with her bridegroom and throw 
 herself at her injured guardian's feet. 
 
 What a nice world this would be if your affairs did n't 
 get so hopelessly tangled up with other people's that 
 you can hardly call your conscience your own! And 
 never have I realized the niceness of the world more 
 fully than in the last few days. 
 
 Yesterday I had a little easy climb with Sir Lionel 
 and the old guide, and saw the glory of Llanberis Pass. 
 To-day, on the wings of Apollo, we have flown through
 
 SET IN SILVER 389 
 
 amazingly interesting country. It really did seem like 
 flying, because the road surface was so like velvet stretched 
 over elastic steel that eyesight alone told us we touched 
 earth. 
 
 Miles are n't tyrants any more, but slaves to the mas- 
 tery of good motor-cars; and any motoring Monte Cristo 
 can fairly exclaim, "The world is mine!" (N. B. This 
 is n't original. Sir Lionel said it at lunch.) From 
 North Wales to Cheshire looks a long run on the 
 map, but motors are made to live down maps; and we 
 arrived in this astonishingly perfect old town early in 
 the afternoon, coming by way of Capel Curig (whence we 
 saw Snowdon crowned with a double rainbow), sweet 
 Bettws-y-coed, or "station in the wood," and so down 
 the river valley in a bird swoop, to noble Con way, with 
 its castle that was once a famous Welsh fortress. Now, 
 in piping days of peace, its towers and turrets still dom- 
 inate bridge and river, and the great pile is as fine, in its 
 way, as Carcassone. Don't you remember, it was 
 from Conway Castle that Richard the Second started 
 out to meet Bolingbroke ? 
 
 We stopped to take photographs and buy a few small 
 pearls from the "pearl-breeding river"; and while we 
 gazed our fill at the mighty monument, we learned from 
 a guardian that in old days a certain Lady Erskine hired 
 the castle for six shillings and eightpence a year, in 
 addition to a "dish of fish for the Queen," when her 
 majesty chanced to pass! 
 
 At Colwyn Bay we lunched early, at a charming 
 hotel in a garden above a sea of Mediterranean blue; 
 and the red-roofed town along the shore reminded me
 
 390 SET IN SILVER 
 
 of Dinard. After that, coming by Abergele and 
 Rhuddlan to Chester, the way was no longer through a 
 region of romance and untouched beauty. There were 
 quarries, which politely though firmly announced their 
 hours of blasting, and road users accommodated themselves 
 to the rules as best they might. But there were castles 
 on the heights, as well as quarries in the depths; and 
 though Sir Lionel says that inhabitants of Wales 
 never think of turning to look at such a " common object 
 of the seashore" as a mere castle, I have n't come to that 
 state of mind yet. 
 
 Near Rhuddlan there was a tremendous battle at the 
 end of the seventh century, out of which so many fine 
 songs have been made that the Welsh princes and nobles 
 who were slain have never lost their glory. There 's 
 a castle, too (of course), but the best thing that happened 
 for us was a gloriously straight road like a road of France, 
 and as nobody was on it save ourselves at that moment, 
 we did about six miles before the next moment, when 
 others might claim a share. I believe the Holyhead road 
 is very celebrated. 
 
 Soon we had to turn our backs upon a mystic mountain- 
 land that ringed us in, and face the sea once more 
 a wide water-horizon whose line was broken with great 
 ships steaming from all parts of the world to Liverpool. 
 
 Apollo had seemed a little faint before luncheon, 
 because of some inner disturbance, but he was flying 
 fast as a saint on his way to Paradise as we crossed the 
 Dee, into England out of Wales, and sprang into Glad- 
 stone country. 
 
 When people are obliged to reach a town by rail, there
 
 SET IN SILVER 391 
 
 must be disappointments to lovers of the picturesque, 
 as you and I know by experience. It 's like arriving at a 
 house by the tradesmen's entrance; but with a motor one 
 sails up to the front door through the park. 
 
 Of all the towns to which Apollo has brought us, the 
 entrance to Chester to-day was the best. The first effect 
 of colour left on my eyes the impression of sunset-red, 
 warm as copper beeches. The place seemed to be lit 
 with fading firelight, and I wondered at the soft glow 
 everywhere, until I realized that the big buildings the 
 Cathedral, the great houses and the old city wall were 
 all made of rosy sandstone. 
 
 You can't imagine how a large town which has lived 
 as long as Chester has, and gone on growing, could have 
 contrived to remain so satisfyingly beautiful, or keep such 
 an air of old-time completeness. But the secret is, I 
 suppose, that Chester is "canny" as well as "bonny," 
 and, being wise, she refused to throw away her precious 
 antique garments for glaring new ones. When she had 
 to add houses, or even shops, wherever possible she repro- 
 duced the charm and quaintness of the black and white 
 Tudor or Stuart buildings which are Chester's intimate 
 treasures. 
 
 Of course, I 've seen little of the place yet; but after I 
 had been to the post-office, I strolled about before coming 
 back to the hotel, partly to recover from my disappointment 
 in not hearing from you, partly because I was so bewitched 
 with my first glimpse that I could n't bear to come indoors 
 still a stranger to the town. Hovering in front of the 
 Cathedral (a curious building, black in its oldest parts, 
 bright pink where it has been renovated) I saw Sir Lionel
 
 392 SET IN SILVER 
 
 and Mrs. Norton coming. That was awkward, because 
 I had said I wanted to "settle in" before sight-seeing, 
 but I explained vaguely that I 'd changed my mind, and 
 was invited to go into the Cathedral with them. Perhaps 
 it was because Emily was with us that nothing seemed very 
 wonderful in the interior unless the carved oak in the 
 choir but the cloisters are beautiful, and I liked the 
 chapter house. 
 
 After "doing" the Cathedral, Mrs. Norton was tired, 
 so Sir Lionel and I had a walk alone, an adventure Mrs. 
 Senter would never have allowed if she 'd guessed I was 
 out of my room. She is a dog in the manger about 
 walks. She hates them herself, but she won't let other 
 people take them without her if she can help it. 
 
 We dropped Emily at the hotel, and had a delicious 
 ramble (speaking for myself!) through the four extraordi- 
 nary streets which stand for much in Chester's peculiar 
 fame. Wandering there, it was easy to believe what the 
 guide-books say: that nowhere in Great Britain does a 
 town exist which so preserves the ancient character of all 
 its architecture. I don't know if there are British relics; 
 but the city wall and gates are Roman, part of the castle, 
 too; and since mediaeval days nothing seems to have lost 
 in picturesqueness. People come from all over the world 
 to see the Rows: streets dug out below the rock-surface 
 on which the town was originally built, having shops and 
 even warehouses on their level, with galleries above, open 
 fronted, stone-paved, balustraded with black oak, so that 
 these "Rows" ah 1 look as if the houses were wide open, 
 communicating with one another. The carved oak 
 fronts of the houses and shops, done ingeniously with
 
 SETINSILVER 393 
 
 strange pargetting, and adorned with wondrous windows, 
 are so adorably queer, with their stagey effects, that I 
 don't wonder Chester has become a kind of Mecca for 
 travellers from my native land, where most things are new. 
 
 When we had thus skimmed a little of the cream from 
 the town itself, we had a walk on the old wall, while 
 church bells, near and distant, chimed; but still I don't 
 feel I 've more than glanced at the place. To-morrow 
 we plan to run out to Knutsford, which is Mrs. Gaskell's 
 Cranford really, and I have begged to start early, because 
 if we do (though naturally I don't allege this reason) 
 we can get off before Dick arrives. Then, when we 
 come back, we can do more sight-seeing, and maybe be 
 out when he turns up at the hotel. After that event, 
 unless you save me to-night with some miraculous sug- 
 gestion, all pleasure will be over. And at best, I 'm not 
 looking forward with undiluted joy to to-morrow, because 
 I must not only decide what to do for Ellaline, but do it. 
 
 While I was walking on the wall with Sir Lionel just 
 now, gazing up at watch-towers, or down over the town, 
 and dodging seedy amateur guides whom we nicknamed 
 "Wallers," I kept thinking, thinking, about what to sell. 
 The only thing Sir Lionel has given me of really great 
 value, which could be easily disposed of, is the ruby 
 and diamond ring. But how it would hurt me to give it 
 up in such a sordid way! It was my birthday present 
 from him, and it 's associated in my mind with that night 
 of moonlight in the New Forest when I first knew I cared. 
 But I 'm sorely afraid it must be the thing to go. There 
 are several important-looking antique shops here, and I 
 noticed, when casting my eye about, one where they make
 
 394 SET IN SILVER 
 
 a speciality of curious and rare jewellery. I shall look 
 at it again more carefully when I run out to the post-office, 
 in a few minutes, and perhaps I may have courage to try 
 and strike a bargain, so as to send the money off in the 
 morning before Knutsford if I get it 
 
 An hour later. 
 
 Dearest, I 've got your wire, now, having retrieved it 
 from the Poste Restante, and I 'm thankful for it 
 thankful that you 're well, thankful that you don't blame 
 me for anything I 've done, faults committed or mistakes 
 made. But alas, I don't think the advice, good as 
 it is, will be of any use to me. You see, you don't know 
 Mrs. Senter. It would be hopeless for me to try and 
 force her to exert authority over Dick Burden. 
 
 In the first place, she has no real authority, as apparently 
 he has no expectations from her; and in the second 
 place, though I 'm almost sure she does n't know the 
 truth about me and Ellaline, she suspects that Dick has a 
 hold over me; and after all I 've submitted to from him 
 already it would be impossible to "bluff" her into the 
 belief that I 'd dare ask Sir Lionel to send them both 
 away. No, my dear one, there 's little hope for me in 
 that scheme. I allowed Ellaline to make my bed for 
 me, and I must lie in it, although it has proved to be one 
 of those nasty folding ones that will shut and swallow me 
 up in a trap. 
 
 No, it 's cowardly to whine like that. It won't be 
 pleasant to keep my promise to Dick; but there have 
 been worse things; and I shall probably be able to 
 escape before long. Anyhow it will all be the same a
 
 SET IN SILVER 395 
 
 hundred years hence. As soon as I am with you again 
 it will be as if nothing had happened; and meanwhile I 
 am going to keep a "stiff upper lip." It mayn't be 
 becoming, but that won't matter, as Sir Lionel will never 
 look at me; and you will see by my letters in future how 
 well I am getting on. 
 
 Best love to my best loved, 
 
 From 
 
 AUDRIE.
 
 XXXIII 
 
 SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL PATRICK 
 O'HAGAN 
 
 Keswick Hotel, September 3rd 
 
 MY DEAR PAT: Here we are, you see, in the "happy 
 hunting ground" where you and I used to hunt 
 such shy game as chimneys, needles, crevices, etc., etc.; 
 and if I 'm not as happy in it now as I ought to be, that 
 is n't the fault of the country, which is as fair as it ever 
 was the fairest in England, perhaps. 
 
 It just happens, unfortunately, that I 've been rubbed 
 up the wrong way before coming to the places I 'd 
 looked forward to revisiting more than any other, except 
 Cornwall; and if I had n't invited dear old Penrhyn 
 from Pen-y-gwrd to meet me here, and have a climb, 
 I 'm not sure I should have stopped. However, I have 
 enjoyed the beauty of the run. I must have been as 
 blind as a mole, and as earthy, if I had n't. 
 
 Fine road from Chester to Liverpool, which city had 
 an air of opulent magnificence seen from the ferry, as 
 we neared her rather like a huge, modern Venice. 
 Lunched there, at the Adelphi, on the fat of the land, 
 and had some trouble finding the way out of town. 
 Liverpool welcomes the coming, but does n't speed the 
 parting guest; not a sign-post in sight anywhere. Bad 
 396
 
 SETINSILVER 397 
 
 pave till Ormskirk, when things improved, growing 
 better and better; but no scenery to speak of until near 
 Preston. Villages all along the line, stone-paved; struck 
 me as being characteristic of that stern North Country 
 which we approached. '"Road too good not to mean 
 police-traps," said I to myself; and an A. A. scout warned 
 me that they swarmed; but luckily we were not held up. 
 I was n't in a temper to have taken any nonsense lying 
 down, I 'm afraid. 
 
 Ran straight through Lancaster, which was almost a 
 pity, as John o' Gaunt's Castle is a brave old fortress, 
 whether or no he really built the famous tower; and at 
 the King's Arms we might have got some genuine oat- 
 cakes, which would have given a taste of Cumberland 
 to the strangers. As it was, the first truly characteristic 
 things we came upon were the stout stone walls, on which 
 we happened a little short of Kendal. Down to Winder- 
 mere, a steep but beautiful run; Mrs. Senter by my side, 
 and very enthusiastic. She seems to take an unaffected 
 interest in scenery, with which you would hardly have 
 credited her in old times. She was entranced by her 
 first sight of the lake, which is not surprising, for 
 to one who has never seen them the lakes must be 
 a revelation. 
 
 Dick Burden, by the way, was not with us on this run, 
 nor was he at Chester. He had business in London, 
 which kept him longer than he expected when he left 
 our party at Tintern. I can't say I regret him, though 
 others may. I understand that there has been some 
 telegraphing between him and his aunt, and that his 
 present intention is to rejoin us at Newcastle. Rather
 
 398 SET IN SILVER 
 
 wish he would put off his return a little longer, as it is 
 arranged that we go out to Cragside and Bamborough 
 Castle; and one does n't like to abuse such delightful 
 hospitality as we have been offered there. Dick's 
 presence does not add to the gaiety of nations, it seems 
 to me, and I am not keen on taking him. 
 
 I found Penrhyn waiting for me here, the good fellow, 
 delighted at the prospect of his short visit, and to-morrow 
 he and I will have some small climb. I shall send the 
 car, with Young Nick to drive all who care to go, to a few 
 of the beauty spots, while I am otherwise occupied. 
 They must penetrate the cloistered charms of exquisite 
 Borrodaile, and of course see Lodore, which ought to be 
 at its best now, as there have been heavy rains. Jove! 
 How the Cumberland names ring on the ear, like the 
 "horns of elfland"! Helvelyn; Rydal; Ennerdale; 
 Derwent Water; Glaramara! Aren't they all as crystal 
 as the depths of mountain tarns, or that amethystine 
 colour of the sky behind the clear profiles of high peaks ? 
 
 I 'm sorry we 're too late for the Grasmere Sports ; 
 but the fact is we have lingered by the way longer than I 
 planned for this trip; and now, as things are turning out 
 I 'm inclined to cut the end of the tour short. Gray lees 
 is practically ready for occupation, and I feel as if I ought 
 to be there. 
 
 No! That isn't good enough for you, old chap. 
 It 's true, as far as it goes; but you have begun to read 
 between the lines by this time, I know, and I may as 
 well speak out. I should be an ostrich if I were n't sure 
 that you 've been saying to yourself: "Why does n't this 
 fellow refer to the girl he has spent so much pen and
 
 SETINSILVER 399 
 
 paper on ? Why does he go out of his way to avoid 
 mentioning her name?" 
 
 Well, she has n't eloped, or done anything culpable. 
 But there is no use concealing from you, as I have told 
 you so much, that she has hurt me to the quick. Not 
 that she has been unkind, or rude, or disagreeable. 
 Quite the contrary. And that 's the worst of it, for I 
 prayed to heaven that there might be nothing of her 
 mother in this young soul. At first, as you know, I could 
 hardly believe the girl to be all she seemed, but soon she 
 won me to thinking her perfection a lily, grown by 
 some miracle of Nature in a soil where weeds had flourished 
 hitherto. I would have given my right hand rather than 
 have to admit a flaw in her that is, the one fatal flaw : 
 slyness hidden under apparent frankness, which means 
 an inherited tendency to deceit. 
 
 This may sound as if I had found the poor child out 
 in a lie. But there has been no spoken lie. She has 
 only done the sort of thing I might have expected Ellaline 
 de Nesville's daughter to do. 
 
 I told you about the ring I bought her at Winchester, 
 and gave her on her birthday; how prettily she received it; 
 how she seemed to treasure it more because of the thought 
 and the association than the intrinsic value of the ruby 
 and the brilliants. 
 
 At Chester, the night before we left, I thought I 'd 
 try to pick up some little souvenir of the town for her, 
 as she was delighted with the place. Of course I wanted 
 something small, as our luggage is n't of the expanding 
 order, so I had the idea of jewellery; a little antique pen- 
 dant, or a few old paste buttons. There is a certain
 
 400 SET IN SILVER 
 
 shop in the "Rows" where one looks for such things, 
 and expects to find them good, if highly priced. In the 
 window of that shop I saw displayed for sale the ring I 
 had given to Ellaline! 
 
 The sight of it there was a blow; but I persuaded myself 
 I might be mistaken; that it wasn't the same ring, but 
 another, almost a duplicate. I went in and asked to 
 look at it. The shopman mentioned that it was some- 
 thing quite unusually good, and had " only come in " that 
 afternoon. Inside I found the date which I had had 
 engraved on the ring; the date of Ellaline's birthday. 
 I bought it back for a good deal more than I paid in 
 Winchester, as this chap knew his business thoroughly; 
 but that is a detail. It was merely to satisfy a kind of 
 sentimental vanity that I wanted to get the thing out of 
 the window and into my own hands; for, needless to say, 
 I don't intend to speak of the matter at all to Ellaline. 
 It would humiliate me more than it would her, to let her 
 see that I know what she did with her birthday present; 
 for partly, I blame myself. I supposed that I was fairly 
 free-handed with money, and had no idea that the girl 
 could possibly want more than she had. Still, I told her 
 to let me know in case she found me thoughtless, and not 
 to hesitate to ask for anything she wanted. She could 
 have had as much as she chose, and I would have put 
 no questions. If I 'd been surprised with the largeness 
 of the sums, I should have believed that she had some 
 pensioners to whom she wished to be charitable; for I 
 had begun to believe that she could do no wrong. 
 
 As I said, there was nothing culpable in selling the ring. 
 It was hers. She had a right to do as she liked with it.
 
 SET IN SILVER 401 
 
 But that she should like to part with it; that she should 
 do so, knowing I would hate it if I knew; that she should 
 be exactly the same with me as if she had n't done a 
 thing which she was aware would distress me; that she 
 had n't the courage and frankness to come to me and 
 say 
 
 Oh, hang it all, I 'm grumbling and complaining like 
 an old prig! Perhaps I am one. I know Dick Burden 
 thinks so. We '11 let it go at that. I don't need to 
 explain to you a matter which outwardly is insignificant, 
 and is significant to me only for reasons which the past 
 will account for to you better than my explanations. 
 
 The salt has gone out of life a bit, and I think it will 
 do me good to get to Graylees, where I shall find a thou- 
 sand things to interest me. I daresay Ellaline will be 
 glad to settle down, though she is too polite to show it; 
 and I 'm sure Emily will. 
 
 After a look at the Roman Wall, and a sight of Barn- 
 borough, we shall run to Warwickshire with few detours 
 or pauses. 
 
 You see, by the way, that you were wrong in thinking 
 she could care. If there had been the least warmth in 
 her heart for me she could n't have sold my ring. I 'm 
 glad I did n't make a fool of myself. 
 
 Penrhyn wants to be remembered to you. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 PEN.
 
 XXXIV 
 
 SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL O'HAGAN 
 
 County Hotel, Newcastle 
 
 September 5th 
 
 MY DEAR PAT: You '11 be surprised to get another 
 letter from me on the tail of the last, but there have 
 been developments in which I think you will be interested. 
 
 The sale of the ring was a mere preface to what has 
 followed. 
 
 We arrived at Newcastle this afternoon, finding Burden 
 already here. I did n't think the meeting between him 
 and Ellaline particularly cordial, but appearances are 
 deceiving where girls are concerned, as I have lately 
 been reminded in more ways than one. About an hour 
 ago, while I was getting off some letters and telegrams, 
 I received a message from my ward asking if she could 
 see me in the hotel drawing-room the place is so full 
 I could n't get a private one. 
 
 I went down at once, of course, dimly (and foolishly) 
 hoping that she wanted to "confess" about the ring. 
 But it was quite a different confession she had to make; 
 her desire to be engaged to Mr. Burden! 
 
 Naturally, after our last conversation on that subject, 
 I was somewhat surprised, and on the spur of the moment 
 was tempted to remind her that not long ago Young Nick 
 402
 
 SETINSILVER 403 
 
 had appeared as suitable in her eyes, as young Dick. 
 However, I stopped in time to save myself from being 
 both bounder and brute. I did inquire whether she were 
 now sure of her own mind ; but it was the duty of a guar- 
 dian and not the malice of a disappointed man which 
 prompted the question. 
 
 Her manner was singularly dry and businesslike, and 
 she came as near to looking plain as it is possible for a 
 beautiful girl to come; so love is n't always a beautifier. 
 
 "I am sure of my mind for the moment," she replied, 
 with repulsive prudence. " I suppose a girl need never 
 say more." 
 
 This answer and her manner puzzled me, so I ven- 
 tured to ask, in a guardianly way, if she thought she 
 were enough in love with Burden to be happy with him. 
 
 " I have n't to think about being with him at all yet," 
 she temporized. 
 
 " You seem to have an extraordinary idea of an engage- 
 ment," I said, perhaps rather sneeringly, for I felt bitter, 
 and had never approved of her less. 
 
 "Perhaps I have," she returned, in such an odd, 
 muffled sort of tone that I feared she was going to cry, 
 and glanced at her sharply. But she was looking down 
 and there were no tears visible, so that fear was relieved. 
 
 " You do, at all events, wish to be engaged to Burden ?" 
 I persisted. "Am I to understand that?" 
 
 " I have asked for your consent," she said, with a queer 
 stiffness. And it was on my tongue to say as stiffly, 
 "Very well; you have it. What pleases me should 
 please you." But the words stuck in my throat, as if 
 they 'd been lumps of ice; and instead I answered, almost
 
 404 SETINSILVER 
 
 in spite of myself, that I could n't give my consent uncon- 
 ditionally. I must have another talk with Burden, and 
 whatever my decisibn might be, I would prefer that she 
 did n't consider herself engaged until after the tour was 
 ended. 
 
 " We '11 bring it to a close as soon as possible now," 
 I added, trying not to sound as bitter as I felt, " so as not 
 to keep you waiting." 
 
 She made no response to this, except to give me a sin- 
 gular look which even now I find it impossible to under- 
 stand. It was as if she had something to reproach me 
 for, and yet as if she were more pleased than sad. 
 
 Girls are very complicated human beings, if indeed 
 they can be classified thus though perhaps some men's 
 lives would be duller if they were simpler. As for my 
 life, the less girls have to do with it when my ward is off 
 my hands, the better. 
 
 Since the above conversation, I have been drawn into 
 a talk with Burden. He appeared anxious to find out 
 exactly what had passed between Ellaline and me, almost 
 as if he suspected her of not "playing straight," but I 
 replied, briefly, that she had asked my permission to be 
 engaged to him, having evidently changed her mind 
 since our last discussion on the subject. This appeared 
 to content him more or less, although I repeated what I 'd 
 said to the girl : that I was not prepared to consent 
 officially until I had communicated with his mother, and 
 satisfied myself that my ward would be welcomed in the 
 family. This he evidently thought old-fashioned and 
 over-scrupulous, but when I admitted being both, he 
 ceased to protest, only saying that he wished to write
 
 SET IN SILVER 405 
 
 to his mother first. I suggested talking with his aunt, 
 also, and he did not object to the idea, so Mrs. Senter and 
 I have already had a short conversation concerning her 
 nephew's love affair. She cried a little, and said that she 
 would be "horribly alone in the world" when her "only 
 real pal" was married, but that of course she wished for 
 his happiness above everything, and she meant to give him 
 a wedding present worth having, if she beggared herself 
 for years. The poor little woman showed a great deal 
 of heart, and I was touched. I 'm afraid she 's not too 
 happy, under her air of almost flippant gaiety and '* smart- 
 ness," for she rather hinted that she liked some man who 
 did n't care for her someone she met in the East. I 
 suppose she can't be cherishing a hidden passion for 
 you ? Rather cruel of us, accusing her of being a flirt in 
 those days, if she were in earnest all the time, eh ? 
 
 In case I "pump" her a little about this mysterious 
 disappointment, and find it 's you she 's thinking of, I 
 may turn the tables, and give you some good advice 
 better than you gave me. You might do worse than get 
 leave and have another look at this pretty and agreeable 
 lady before deciding to let her slip. 
 
 Yours always, 
 
 PEN. 
 
 Good old Owen enjoyed his two days in Cumberland. 
 He, too, tried his hand on advising me. Said I ought to 
 marry. Not I!
 
 XXXV 
 
 MRS. SENTER TO HER SISTER, MRS. BURDEN 
 
 Newcastle, September Something 
 
 MY DEAR Sis : This is to ask a great favour of you, 
 and you must be a pet and grant it. There 's nothing 
 I won't do for you in return, if you will. 
 
 I have just been having a most satisfactory chat with 
 Sir L. It began in reference to Dick. Somehow or 
 other that ingenious darling had forced Ellaline Lethbridge 
 to ask Sir Lionel for his (Dick's) hand! I say "forced," 
 because she is not in the least in love with him, indeed, 
 (strange as it may seem to you) detests the ground he 
 walks on; yet she does things that he tells her to do 
 things she hates like poison. This last coup of Dick's 
 convinces me of what I 've often suspected : he knows 
 something about her past which she is deadly afraid he 
 will tell Sir Lionel. It may be connected with that visit to 
 Venice, when the Tyndals saw her; anyhow, whatever 
 the secret may be, it is serious. She is obliged to biibe 
 Dick; but she dislikes him too intensely to marry him 
 ever even if the way to do so were made easy; so, I 
 reiterate, have no fear on that score. 
 
 Sir Lionel fancies himself in love with the girl, but he 
 will get over it, even if he is n't on the way to do so already, 
 pushed roughly onto the right road by her confessed pref- 
 406
 
 SET IN SILVER 407 
 
 erence for Dick. For the moment, however, I can see he 
 is rather hard hit, though he would be mad if he dreamed 
 I or anyone could read his august feelings. He thinks 
 his hesitation to permit an engagement arises from con- 
 scientious scruples, but really it 's because he can't bear 
 to have any other man (or boy) making love to his girl. 
 That 's the brutal truth; and he 's haggling and putting 
 off the evil day as long as he can. He wanted to ask 
 me what my feeling was in the matter; whether you 
 would be pleased, and so on. Ellaline might not be 
 rich, he explained, but she would have enough for her 
 own wants as a married woman. He thought her 
 husband, when she had one, ought to wish to do the rest; 
 and though Dick considered his own prospects good, a 
 partnership in a detective agency hardly seemed ideal. 
 
 I told him I could n't quite answer for you, as you had 
 always hoped your one boy might fall in love with a rich 
 girl ; but that I was sure Dick adored Ellaline. I asked if 
 I should write to you, when Dick did; and he said, half 
 reluctantly, perhaps I had better. Poor wretch, he 
 was afraid I might succeed in persuading you ! 
 
 I was pathetic on the subject of Dick, and our com- 
 radeship, which must be broken by the dear boy's mar- 
 riage, and as Sir L. was suffering himself, he was in just 
 the right mood to sympathize with me. I snivelled a 
 little; and at last, emboldened by success, I allowed 
 him to gather that there was someone I 'd cared for a 
 long, long time someone who did n't care for me. 
 At that he was so nice, that I liked him better than I ever 
 thought I could; and since then I feel I really can't and 
 shan't lose him.
 
 408 SETINSILVER 
 
 No sooner had he given my hand a warm yet disappoint- 
 ing "kind friend" squeeze, at parting, than I routed 
 out Dick in his own room. I promised him that I would 
 induce you to write a nice letter about the proposed 
 engagement to Sir Lionel if he in his turn would per- 
 suade Ellaline to put in a good word for me with Sir L., 
 to tell him that she believed I cared for him a good deal, 
 and was unhappy. 
 
 When I said "persuade" to Dick, I meant use his 
 unknown power to command; for if the girl would say 
 that to her guardian, her words would be the one stone 
 capable of killing two birds. It would prove to him that 
 of which I don't think he is perfectly sure at present: 
 her love for Dick, or, at worst, her complete indifference 
 to himself; and it would pop into his head the idea I 
 want to put there, though I have done all it 's safe to 
 do openly toward inserting it. 
 
 I saw when I softly hinted at a hopeless affection which 
 had spoiled years of my life, that he did n't think of 
 himself. Somehow, he must be 'made to think; and now 
 is the right time, for his heart is sore, and needs balm. 
 He would be so sorry for me that, in the state he is in, he 
 could n't be hard. He would argue that, as he was bound 
 to be unhappy anyway, he might as well try to make 
 others happy. I feel that everything would happen 
 exactly as I want it to happen if Ellaline Lethbridge 
 could be depended upon to say the right thing. 
 
 Of course, there lies the danger: that she won't. But 
 Dick boasts that she '11 have to do as he tells her. It 's 
 worth risking; but he won't give the word unless he 
 thinks that I 've coaxed you 'round.
 
 SET IN SILV ER 409 
 
 That 's the favour I ask. Will you, when you get this, 
 wire to me at once, "Writing according to your request 
 to Sir L." ? I can then show your telegram to Dick (you 
 must address it to me at Bamborough Castle, where we 
 are to spend a night, after staying one at Cragside) and 
 he will put pressure to bear on Ellaline Lethbridge. 
 
 You can be absolutely certain that no harm will come 
 of this. That Dick and she will never be married; 
 whereas, when I am married to Sir Lionel, I '11 give you 
 a present of five hundred pounds, within the first year, 
 to do with as you like. I 'd even be willing to sign a paper 
 to that effect. 
 
 Your anxious, yet hopeful 
 
 GWEN.
 
 XXXVI 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Bamborough Castle 
 
 September 9th 
 
 DEAR: I know you are miserable about me, but don't 
 be it, because I 'm not miserable about myself. Honour 
 bright! 
 
 I 've done the hateful deed. It was at Newcastle: and 
 I knew I was in for it, the minute I saw Dick. He 's got 
 his partnership, and thinks he 's got me. But there 's 
 many a slip 'twixt Dick Burden and Audrie Brendon. 
 
 I would n't tell Sir Lionel I was in love with the horrid 
 Boy Detective, and I 'm happy or nearly happy 
 to say that he refused to give his consent straight out to 
 an engagement. He told Dick the same thing; so there '11 
 be no leaving us two alone in lovesick corners (can corners 
 be lovesick?), or making announcements, or anything 
 appalling of that sort. 
 
 Perhaps it was easier, speaking to Sir Lionel, because 
 he had n't been kind to me since the last evening in Chester 
 I can't think why, though I can think why I deserved 
 unkindness. The ring was terribly on my mind; but he 
 can't have found out about that, because the man in the 
 shop promised he would n't try to sell it until next day. 
 
 I could n't get auite what Ellaline wanted, though I 
 410
 
 SET IN SILVER 411 
 
 sold two or three other things all I could sell; but it 
 came nearly to the right amount; and it went off to her 
 in Scotland, in the form of a post-office order, that same 
 night assured instead of registered, as the letter was 
 so valuable. 
 
 Sir Lionel being somewhat frigid and remote in his 
 manner, appearing to take no more interest in me than 
 if he were a big star and I a bit chipped off a Leonid, 
 I delivered myself of what I had to say without great 
 difficulty. I had a queer, numbed feeling, as though 
 if it did n't matter to him, it did n't to me, until just at 
 the last, when he said something that nearly made me 
 cry. Luckily I was able to swallow the sob. It felt like 
 a large, hot, crisp baked potato; and my heart felt like a 
 larger, cold-boiled beet soaked in vinegar. 
 
 It 's all over now, though, and I 'm comparatively 
 callous. Maybe the vinegar has pickled me internally ? 
 
 Bamborough Castle, where we arrived to-day with our 
 kind and delightful hosts of Cragside, is to be the northern- 
 most end of the tour. On leaving, we turn southward; 
 and would make straight for Warwickshire and Graylees, 
 if, in an evil moment, Mrs. Norton and I had n't for once 
 agreed about a place that we longed to see. It is Ha- 
 worth, where the Brontes lived, and Sir Lionel said that 
 our wish should be gratified. He planned a day in York- 
 shire: Ripon, Fountains Abbey, Ha worth, Harrogate 
 (not York, because Emily went there with the late Mr. 
 Norton, and has sad marital memories); and the plan 
 still stands. I have an idea that Sir Lionel is impatient 
 to reach Graylees now, so after the Yorkshire field-day 
 we will push on there; and I shall perhaps hear from
 
 412 SETINSILVER 
 
 Ellaline as to Honore's plans. He ought to be in Scotland 
 by that time. I 've written her to wire me at the nearest 
 post-office to Graylees Castle, as I don't like to receive 
 telegrams there. But I see no reason why you should n't 
 send a letter to Graylees the last letter, I hope, which 
 need ever be addressed to me as "Miss Ellaline Leth- 
 bridge." It will seem nice to get into my own name 
 again! Rather like putting on comfortable shoes after 
 tight ones that made blisters. And how divine to fly to 
 you a distracted chicken, battered by a thunderstorm, 
 scuttling back under its mother's downy wing ! 
 
 Nevertheless, I 'm not going to cheat you out of seeing 
 England through my eyes, because my pleasure just 
 a little of it is damped by Dick. I am resigned and 
 calm, and you must n't think me a martyr. I 've told 
 you I hate whiners, and I won't be one. Why, I ought to 
 be thankful for the chance of such a wonderful trip, and 
 not be cowardly enough to spoil it by a few private 
 worries ! 
 
 Cumberland is even lovelier than Wales, though I 
 should n't have thought that possible. Sir Lionel went 
 climbing with the nice Welsh guide, whom he invited to 
 Keswick, so he was n't with us much ; and Dick being in 
 London still, there were only Mrs. Norton, Mrs. Senter, 
 and I to be conducted by Young Nick. It did seem odd 
 being driven by him, and seeing his back look so inex- 
 pressive among the most ravishing scenes. I asked if he 
 did n't think Cumberland glorious, but he said it was 
 not like India. I suppose that was an answer? 
 
 We spun off into the mysterious enchantments of 
 Borrodaile in gusts of rain; but the heavenly valley
 
 SET IN SILVER 413 
 
 was the more mystic because of the showers. Huge white 
 clouds walked ahead of us, like ghosts of pre-historic 
 animals; and baby clouds sprawled on the mountain 
 sides, with all their filmy legs in air. 
 
 At Lodore the water was "coming down" like a minia- 
 ture Niagara. Heavy rains had filled the cup of its 
 parent river full, and the waterfall looked as if floods of. 
 melted ivory were pouring over ebony boulders. What 
 a lovely, rushing roar ! It was like the father of all sound 
 as if it might have given the first suggestion of sound 
 to a silent, new-born world. 
 
 Windermere and Derwent Water we saw, too, and each 
 was more beautiful than the other. Also I was much 
 excited about the Giant's Grave, near Keswick, which 
 has kept its secret since before history began. 
 
 All the way to Carlisle the country was very fair to see, 
 scarcely flagging in charm to the end; and Carlisle itself 
 was packed with interest, from its old cathedral to the 
 castle where David I. k of Scotland died and Mary Queen 
 of Scots lodged. 
 
 Now our thoughts were turned toward the Roman 
 Wall, and I thrilled a little, despite the forbidding stiff- 
 ness of Sir Lionel's disapproving back as he drove. 
 Because of Kipling's splendid story of the Roman soldier 
 in "Puck of Pook's Hill," I knew that for me the Great 
 Wall (all that 's left of it) would be one of the best things. 
 Parnesius, the young centurion, told Una and Dan that 
 "old men who have followed the Eagles since boyhood 
 say nothing is more wonderful than the first sight of the 
 Wall." And also that there were no real adventures 
 south of it. It was disappointing to think that nowadays,
 
 414 SET IN SILVER 
 
 on our way there, we could n't expect to meet "hunters 
 and trappers for the circuses, prodding along chained 
 bears and muzzled wolves" for the amusement of the 
 soldiers in the far northern camps; or that when we 
 should come to the Wall, we 'd find no helmeted men 
 with glittering shields walking three abreast on the 
 narrowest part, screened from Picts by a little curtain- 
 wall at the top, as high as their necks; no roaring, gam- 
 bling, cock-fighting, wolf-baiting, horse-racing soldier 
 town on one side, and heather wastes full of hiding, 
 arrow-shooting Picts on the other; yet I heard Sir Lionel 
 say we could still trace the guard-houses and small towers, 
 and see how the great camp of Cilurnum was laid out. 
 
 We had left the mountains before we came into Carlisle, 
 but not the hills; and after one of grandiose size, which 
 an old Northumbrian we met called "a fair stiff bank," 
 we were on the Roman road; the long, long, straight road 
 forging uncompromisingly, grimly up and down, ever 
 on, scorning to turn aside for difficulties; the road where 
 the Legions paced with the brave Roman step "Rome's 
 race, Rome's pace," twenty-four miles in eight hours. 
 
 Kipling illuminated the way through Haltwhistle and 
 Chollerford to the Chesters, a private park which is a 
 big out-of-doors museum, for it has in its midst the remains 
 of old Cilurnum. We got out at the gates, and wandered 
 among the ruins that have been reverently excavated; 
 a gray and faded scene, like a kind of skeleton Pompeii 
 with dead bones rattling; entrance gateways; ghost- 
 haunted guard -houses ; stone rings which were towers; 
 many short, straight streets whose half-buried pave- 
 ments once rang under soldiers' heels; the Forum; all
 
 SET IN SILVER 415 
 
 the camp-city plan; a map with outlines roughly 
 sketched in stone on faded grass. We had had our 
 first sight of the Wall of which centurions in Britain 
 bragged when they went back to Rome. Then it was a 
 Living Wall; but it is very wonderful still, where its 
 skeleton lies in state. 
 
 We had started so early from Keswick, that it was n't 
 two o'clock when we left the Chesters; and I was sur- 
 prised when, instead of drawing up before some country 
 inn for lunch, we skimmed through a gate only a mile 
 or two away, and stopped under the shadowy frown 
 of an imposing mediaeval stronghold. It was Haughton 
 Castle, whose towers and keep are crowded with stories 
 of the past, and the visit was to be a surprise for us. 
 Sir Lionel knew the owner, who had asked us all to 
 lunch, for the "dragon's" sake; and it looked quite an 
 appropriate resting-place for a dragon of elegant leisure. 
 It was as interesting within as without ; and after luncheon 
 they took us over the castle; best of all, down in the deep 
 dungeon where Archie Armstrong, a chief of moss- 
 troopers, was forgotten and starved to death by his captor, 
 Sir Thomas Swinburne, a stout knight of Henry the 
 Eighth's day. 
 
 There is a long story about Archie, too long to tell you 
 here; but each castle of Northumberland (the county of 
 castles, not of collieries) has dozens of wonderful old 
 stories, warlike, ghostlike, tragic, and romantic. I have 
 been reading a book about some of them, which I will 
 bring you. It 's more interesting than any novel. And 
 King Arthur legends are scattered broadcast over 
 Northumberland, as in Cornwall. Also the "Scots wha
 
 416 SET IN SILVER 
 
 hae wi' Wallace bled" did much of their bleeding and 
 fighting here. There 's history of "every sort, to please 
 every taste," from Celtic times on; but I 'm not sure that 
 the troublous days of the great feudal barons were n't 
 the most passionately thrilling of all. 
 
 If the first sight of the Wall was wonderful to the 
 Roman soldiers, so must have been the first sight of the 
 wide Tyne. I know it was so to me, as we flashed upon 
 it at the first important twist of the straight Roman road, 
 and crossed it on a noble bridge. 
 
 Of course, Newcastle has a castle; and it was "new" 
 when William the Conqueror was new to his kingdom. 
 Now that I 've seen this great, rich, gay, busy city, 
 ancient and modern, I realize how stupid I was to asso- 
 ciate it with mere coal, as strangers have a way of doing, 
 because of the trite remark about "taking coals to New- 
 castle." Why, the very names of the streets in the old 
 part chime bell-like with the romance of history! And 
 I like the people of Northumberland those I have 
 met; the shrewd, kindly townsfolk, and the country folk 
 living in gray villages, who love old, old ways, and emit 
 quaint wit with a strong, rough "burr." 
 
 They have the look in their eyes that Northern people 
 have, all the world over; a look that can be hard, yet 
 can be kinder than the soft look of more melting Southern 
 eyes. Sir Lionel is of the South born in Cornwall; 
 yet his eyes have this Northern glint in them as if he 
 knew and understood mountains. Just now they are 
 terribly wintry, and when they rest coldly on me I feel 
 as if I were lost in a snowstorm without hat or coat. 
 But no matter !
 
 SET IN SILVER 417 
 
 Now, what shall I say to you of Bamborough Castle, 
 which is the crown of our whole tour ? 
 
 I wish I were clever enough to make the splendour 
 of it burst upon you, as it did upon me. 
 
 Imagine us motoring over from Cragside (a very 
 beautiful and famous modern house, with marvellous 
 gardens and enchanting views) which belongs to these 
 kind, delightful friends of Sir Lionel's who own 
 Bamborough Castle. There was a house-party at 
 Cragside, and there were twelve or fifteen of us who left 
 there in a drove of automobiles. 
 
 Down the beautiful winding avenue; then out upon a 
 hump-backed, switchback road, a dozen miles and more, 
 past great Alnwick, on, on, until suddenly a vast, dark 
 shape loomed against the sky; a stone silhouette, not of 
 a giant's profile, but of a whole vast family of giants 
 grouped together, to face the sea. 
 
 To own a Thing like that must feel like owning 
 Niagara Falls, or the marble range of the Sierra Nevada, 
 or biting off a whole end of England and digesting it. 
 Yet these charming people take their ownership quite 
 calmly; and by filling the huge castle from keep to farthest 
 tower with their beautiful possessions, seem to have tamed 
 the splendid monster, making it legitimately theirs. 
 
 I thought Alnwick grand, as we passed, but its position 
 is insignificant compared with Bamborough, which has 
 the wide North Sea for a background. On a craggy 
 platform of black rock like a petrified cushion for a royal 
 crown, it rises above the sea, a few low foothills of golden 
 sand drifting toward it ahead of the tide. The grandeur 
 of the vast pile is almost overwhelming to one who, like me,
 
 418 SET IN SILVER 
 
 has never until now seen any of these mighty fortress- 
 castles of the North; but a great historian says that the site 
 of Bamborougb surpasses the sites of all other North- 
 umbrian castles in ancient and abiding historic interest; 
 so even if I had been introduced to dozens, my impression 
 must remain the same. "Round Bamborough, and its 
 founder, Ida (the Flame-Bearer), all Northumbrian his- 
 tory gathers"; and it is "one of the great cradles of 
 national life." 
 
 Bamborough village, close by, was once the royal city 
 of Bernicia, and the "Laidly Worm" was there to give it 
 fame, even if there had never been a Grizel Cochrane or 
 Grace Darling; but the history of the hamlet that once 
 was great, and the castle that will always be great, are 
 virtually one. I shall bring you Besant's "Dorothy 
 Foster," and lots of fascinating photographs which our 
 hostess has given me. (I don't think I need leave them 
 for Ellaline, as she would n't care.) But you know the 
 story of the Laidly Worm, because Dad used to tell it 
 to me when I was small. The wicked stepmother who 
 turned her beautiful stepdaughter into the fearsome Worm 
 used to live at the bottom of a deep, deep well that opens 
 in the stone floor of the castle keep; and there, in the rock- 
 depths, a hundred and fifty feet below, she still lurks, in 
 the form of a gigantic toad. I have been allowed to peep 
 down, and I 'm sure I caught the jewelled sparkle of her 
 wicked eye in the gloom. But even if she 'd turned me 
 into a Laidly Worm, I could n't be more repulsive than 
 I probably am at present to Sir Lionel; besides, I could 
 crawl away into a neighbouring cave with modern improve- 
 ments, and console myself with a good cry which I
 
 I 
 
 
 
 \
 
 SETINSILVER 419 
 
 can't do now, for fear of getting a red nose. I should 
 hate that, because Mrs. Senter's nose is so magnolia- 
 white, and the background of a magnificent feudal castle 
 sets off her golden hair and brown eyes so passing well. 
 
 There might be volumes of history, as well as romances, 
 written about Bamborough Castle as Sir Walter Scott, 
 and Harrison Ains worth, and Sir Walter Besant knew. 
 Why, the thrill of unwritten stories and untold legends 
 is in the air! From the moment I passed through the 
 jaws of outer and inner gateways, I seemed to hear whis- 
 pers from lips that had laughed or cursed in the days of 
 barbaric grandeur, when Bamborough was the king of 
 all Northumbrian castles. There are queer echoes 
 everywhere, in the vast rooms whose outer walls are twelve 
 feet thick; but more deliciously "creepy" than any other 
 place is the keep, I think even more thrilling than the 
 dungeons. Yet the castle, as it is now, is far from 
 gloomy, I can tell you. Not only are there banqueting- 
 halls and ball-rooms, and drawing-rooms and vast gal- 
 leries which royalties might covet, but there are quan- 
 tities of charming bedrooms, gay and bright enough for 
 debutante princesses. My bedroom, where I am writ- 
 ing, is in a turret; quaintly furnished, with tapestry on the 
 wall which might have suggested to Browning his "Childe 
 Roland to the Dark Tower Came." 
 
 It 's very late, but I don't like to go to bed, partly 
 because I can't keep jumping up and down to look out 
 of my window at wild crags and moonlit sea when I 'm 
 asleep; partly because I have such silly, miserable dreams 
 about Sir Lionel hating me, that I wake up snivelling; 
 and to write to you when I 'm a tiny bit triste is always
 
 420 SET IN SILVER 
 
 like warming my hands at a rainbow-tinted fire of 
 ship's logs. 
 
 To-morrow afternoon we are going back to Newcastle, 
 where we will "lie" one night, as old books say, and 
 then make a very matinal start to do our great day in 
 Yorkshire, passing first through Durham, with just a 
 glance at the great cathedral. Once upon a time we 
 would have given more than a glance. But, as I told 
 you, Sir Lionel seems to have lost heart for the "long trail." 
 
 I never saw him so interested in Mrs. Senter as he has 
 appeared to be these last two nights at Cragside and here. 
 Certainly she is looking her very, very best; and in her 
 manner with him there is a gentleness and womanli- 
 ness only just developed. One would fancy that a 
 sympathetic understanding had established itself 
 between them, as it might if she told him some piteous 
 story about herself which roused all his chivalry. 
 
 Well, if she has told him any such story, I 'm sure it is 
 a "story" in every sense of the word. And I don't know 
 how I should bear it if she cajoled him into believing her 
 an injured innocent who needed the shelter of a (rich and 
 titled) man's arm. 
 
 Perhaps it is a little sad wind that cries at my window 
 like a baby begging to come in; perhaps it is just foolish- 
 ness; but I have a presentiment that something will 
 happen here to make me remember Bamborough Castle 
 forever, not for itself alone. 
 
 Afternoon of next day 
 
 It has happened. Best One, I don't quite know what 
 is going to become of me. There has been the most
 
 SET IN SILVER 421 
 
 awful row. It was with Dick, and Sir Lionel does n't 
 know about it yet, and we are supposed to be going away 
 in a few minutes; but maybe Dick is talking to Sir Lionel 
 now, and if he is, I don't suppose I shall be allowed to 
 proceed in the company of virtuous Emily and (com- 
 paratively) innocent Gwendolen. I shall probably be 
 given a third-class ticket back to Paris, and ordered to 
 "git." 
 
 It 's rather hard that, having sacrificed so much, large 
 chunks of self-respect among other things, it should all 
 come to nothing in the end. Ellaline will want to kill 
 me, for I have thrown her to the lions. It won't be my 
 fault if they don't eat her up. 
 
 Oh, darling, I do feel horribly about it, and really 
 and truly, without exaggeration, I would have died 
 sooner than repay her kindness to me by giving her away 
 like this. An ancestress of yours in the Revolution ran 
 up the steps of the guillotine laughing and kissing her 
 hands to the friends she left in the tumbril, and I could 
 have been almost half as brave if by so doing I might have 
 avoided this dreadful abandoning of Ellaline's interests, 
 trusted to me. But what can you do between two evils ? 
 Is n't it a law of nature, or something, to choose the 
 lesser ? 
 
 Dick went just the one step too far, and pulled the 
 chain too tight. He had begun to think he could make 
 me do anything. 
 
 A little while ago, I was alone in the armoury, absorbed 
 in looking at a wonderful engraving of the tragic last Earl 
 of Derwentwater, when suddenly Dick came up behind me. 
 I wanted to go, and made excuses to escape, but he
 
 422 SET IN SILVER 
 
 would n't let me; and rather than have a scene in case 
 anyone might come I let him walk me about, and 
 point out strange old weapons on the wall. That was 
 only a blind, however. He had something particular to 
 say, and said it. There was another thing I must do for 
 him: find a way of informing Sir Lionel, prettily and 
 nicely, that Mrs. Senter cared for him, and was very 
 unhappy. 
 
 I flew out in an instant, and said that I 'd do no such 
 thing. 
 
 "You must," said he. 
 
 "I won't," said I. "Nobody can make me." 
 
 " Oh, can't they ? " said he. " I can, then, and I mean to. 
 If you refuse to do it, I shall believe you 're in love with Sir 
 Lionel yourself." 
 
 "I don't care what you believe," I flung at him. " There's 
 no shame in saying I like Sir Lionel too well and respect 
 him too much to have any hand in making him miserable 
 all the rest of his life." 
 
 "Do you insinuate that marrying my aunt would make 
 him miserable?" Dick wanted to know. 
 
 "I don't insinuate. I assert," said I. And by that time 
 I was in such a temper, and my nerves had so gone to bits 
 that I did n't know, and cared less, what I was saying. I 
 went on and told Dick exactly what I thought of Mrs. 
 Senter, and that for a loyal, true sort of man like Sir Lionel 
 it would be better to die at once than have her for his wife 
 for that would be death, too, only slow and lingering. 
 Dick was white with fury, but I hardly noticed then, for I 
 was seeing red. 
 
 "If you call her deceitful, what are you ?" he sputtered.
 
 SET IN SILVER 423 
 
 "I 'm neither here nor there," said I. 
 
 "Certainly you won't be here long, or where Pen- 
 dragon is," said he. "I would n't marry you now, if 
 you 'd have me. You 're nothing more or less than an 
 adventuress." 
 
 "And you 're a blackmailer," I mentioned, because I 'd 
 gone back to primitive passions, like Eve's, or a Brittany 
 fishwife's. 
 
 " That 's a lie," he answered politely, " because black- 
 mailers only threaten; I 'm going to perform. It 's all 
 up with you." 
 
 "I don't care for myself," said I. But, as you know, 
 that was only partly true. 
 
 Then for a minute Dick seemed to repent. "No good 
 losing our tempers like this," he said. "Take back 
 your insults to my aunt, who is the best pal I ever had 
 though that 's not saying much and speak a good 
 word for her to Sir Lionel, whom she really loves, and 
 I '11 let you off." 
 
 " I 'd have my tongue cut out first," I answered. 
 
 "Is that your last word ?" he persisted. 
 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 "Very well, then," said he, "you '11 be sorrier for this 
 than you ever were for anything in your life." And he 
 stamped away, leaving me alone. 
 
 I flew up to my room, because I was n't going to run the 
 risk of his bringing Sir Lionel in and telling him every- 
 thing before me. So here I am, and that 's all; except 
 that Emily has come to my door to say her brother 
 wants to know if I can be ready to start in twenty 
 minutes.
 
 424 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Newcastle, Night 
 
 We 're back in our rooms at the County Hotel, and I 
 am dazed with the mystery of what is going on. I was 
 ready in twenty minutes; and all the automobiles that 
 brought us yesterday were waiting to take us away again. 
 When I came down, Mrs. Norton and Mrs. Senter were 
 in our car; Sir Lionel, cool but polite, prepared to help 
 me in, standing by. He has great control over his features, 
 but I did n't think, if he had heard Dick's story, and 
 intended to shed me at the nearest railway station (not 
 to make a scandal at Bamborough), he could be looking 
 as unmoved as that. 
 
 No Dick was in sight. Naturally, I did n't ask for 
 him, but perhaps my eye moved wildly round, for Mrs. 
 Senter read its question, and answered it in a voice like 
 insufficiently sweetened lemonade: 
 
 "Your Dick, dear child, has had another urgent sum- 
 mons to his mother's side, and won't be with us to-day. 
 His last words were that you would understand, so I 
 suppose he explained more to you than to me. But you 
 are privileged." 
 
 I could have boxed her ears, hard. 
 
 Emily went on, in her fussy way, to make things clear 
 to my intellect by adding that our host had kindly sent 
 Mr. Burden to the nearest railway station in his own 
 fastest motor, as it seemed he had just time to catch a 
 train leaving almost immediately. 
 
 I did n't know what to make of it all, and don't now. 
 Whether a telegram from the invalid mother did really 
 come in the nick of time to save me, like Abraham's ram 
 that caught in the bushes at the last minute; or whether
 
 SET IN SILVER 425 
 
 this sudden dash to Scotland is a deep-dyed plot; or 
 whether he is n't going, really, but means to stop and spy 
 on me disguised as a chauffeur or a performing bear 
 or what, I can't guess. 
 
 All I do know is that, so far, Sir Lionel's manner is 
 unchanged. Perhaps Dick left a note with Mrs. Senter, 
 which she is to put into Sir L.'s hand at an appropriate 
 moment? He may seem altered at dinner, to which I 
 must go down soon; or he may send for me and have it 
 out during the evening. I '11 add a line before we get 
 off to-morrow morning. 
 
 September Wth. 8.45 A.M. 
 
 We 're just going. He seems the same as ever. I 'm 
 lost in it! I '11 post this downstairs. Please write at 
 once to Graylees; for if I am sent away before, I '11 as^: 
 to have letters forwarded to my own address. 
 
 Your 
 
 AUDRIE.
 
 XXXVII 
 
 MRS. SENTER TO HER NEPHEW, DICK BURDEN, AT 
 GLEN LACHLAN, N. B. 
 
 Newcastle 
 
 September 10th 
 
 8 A Jf. 
 
 You might have told me what was up. Is your mother 
 really ill? Am anxious and puzzled. Don't think you 
 play fair. Wire, Midland Hotel, Bradford. 
 
 GWEN.
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 DICK BURDEN TO HIS AUNT, MRS. SENTER, 
 MIDLAND HOTEL, BRADFORD 
 
 Glenlachlan, 
 
 September 10th 
 
 8P.M. 
 
 Mother not ill. You will know everything to-morrow 
 or day after. 
 
 DICK. 
 
 427
 
 XXXIX 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Midland Hotel, Bradford 
 
 September llth 
 
 BELOVED ONE: Situation unchanged. I know now 
 how you felt when you had nervous prostration. However, 
 I 'm not going to have it, so don't worry. 
 
 If I had been in a state of mind to enjoy it fully, this 
 would have been a wonderful day. But I don't suppose 
 Damocles enjoyed himself much, even if they brought 
 him delicious things to eat and drink, and rich jewels, 
 and the kind of cigarettes he 'd always longed for, yet 
 never could afford to buy knowing that any instant 
 it might be the hair's time to break. 
 
 I don't believe he could have done justice to beautiful 
 Durham Cathedral and the famous bridge; or splendid 
 Richmond Castle on its height above the Swale; or the 
 exhilarating North Road; or charming Ripon; or even 
 the exquisite, almost heart-breaking beauty of ruined 
 Fountains Abbey, by the little river that sings its dirge 
 in music sweeter than harp or violin. No, he could n't 
 have put his soul into his eyes for them, and I did n't. 
 I was almost sorry that we were to go on and see Harro- 
 gate and the Strid and Bolton Abbey, because in my 
 restlessness I did n't feel intelligent enough to appreciate 
 428
 
 SETINSILVER 429 
 
 anything. I could only be dully thankful that the sword 
 had n't pierced me yet; but I wanted to be alone, and 
 shut my eyes, and not have to talk, especially to Mrs. 
 Norton. 
 
 Dimly I realized that Harrogate seemed a very pretty 
 place, where it might be amusing to stay, and take baths 
 and nice walks, and listen to music; and my bodily eyes 
 saw well enough how lovely was the way through Nidders- 
 dale and Ilkley to Pately Bridge, where we had to get 
 out and walk through enchanted woods to the foaming 
 cauldron of the Strid. The water, swollen by rain, 
 raced over its rocks below the crags of the tragic jump, 
 like a white horse running away, mad with unreasoning 
 terror. Nevertheless, my bodily eyes were only glass 
 windows which my spirit had deserted. It left them blank 
 still, at Bolton Abbey, which is poetically beautiful 
 (though not as lovable as Fountains), on, up the great 
 brown hill of Bard en Moor, through Skipton, where, in 
 the castle, legend says Fair Rosamond lived; until 
 Haworth. There before we came to the steep, straight 
 hill leading up to the bleak and huddled townlet bitten 
 out of the moor, my spirit rushed to the windows. The 
 voices of Charlotte Bronte and her sister Emily called 
 it back, and it obeyed at a word, though all the beauty of 
 wooded hills and fleeting streams had vanished, as if 
 frightened by the cold, relentless winds of the high 
 moorland. 
 
 Rain had begun to fall. The sky was leaden, the 
 sharp hill muddy; everything seemed to combine in 
 giving an effect of grimness, as the car forged steadily 
 up, up toward the poor home the Brontes loved.
 
 430 SET IN SILVER 
 
 Is n't it a beautiful miracle, the banishing of black dark- 
 ness by the clear light of genius ? It was that light which 
 had lured us away from all the charms of nature to a 
 region of ugliness, even of squalor. The Brontes had 
 lived there. They had pined for Haworth when away. 
 Emily had written about the "spot 'mid barren hills, 
 where winter howls, and driving rain." They had 
 thought there, worked there, the wondrous sisters; they 
 had illuminated the mean place, and made it a lodestar 
 for the world. 
 
 When we reached the top of the hill (which was almost 
 like reaching a ceiling after climbing the side of a hideous 
 brown-painted wall), I forgot my own troubles in think- 
 ing of the Brontes' tragedy of poverty, disappointment, 
 and death. 
 
 We were in a poor street of a peculiarly depressing 
 village, and could not even see the moor that had given 
 the Bronte girls inspiration, though we knew it must 
 stretch beyond. Even in bright sunshine there could be 
 no beauty in Haworth; but under that leaden sky, in the 
 thick mist of rain, the poor stone houses lining the way, 
 the sordid, unattractive shops were positively repellent. 
 All that was not so dark a gray as to look black was dull 
 brown; and not a single window-pane had a gleam of 
 intelligence for the unwelcome strangers. I could imagine 
 no merriment in Haworth, nor any sound of laughter; yet 
 the Brontes were happy when they were children at 
 least, they thought they were; but it would be too tragic 
 if children did n't think themselves happy. 
 
 There was the Black Bull Inn, where wretched Bram- 
 well Bronte used to carouse. Poor, weak, vain-glorious
 
 SETINSILVER 431 
 
 fellow! I never pitied him till I saw that gloomy stone 
 box which meant "seeing life" to him. There was 
 the museum where the Bronte relics are kept but we 
 delayed going in that we might see the old parsonage 
 first, the shrine where the preserved relics had once made 
 "home." Oh, mother, the sadness of it, tucked away 
 among the crowding tombstones, all gray-brown to- 
 gether, among weeds and early falling leaves! Here 
 already it was autumn; and though I could fancy a pale, 
 frosty spring, and a white, ice-bound winter, my im- 
 agination could conjure up no richness of summer. 
 
 The gravestones crowding the gray old house in the 
 churchyard, pushing it back toward the moor, were 
 thick as an army on parade a sad, starved army, where 
 dying soldiers lean on each other for support; and the 
 parsonage, shadowed by dripping trees, was plain and 
 uncompromising as a sermon that warns you not to love 
 the world or you will spend eternity in hell. But behind 
 
 just beyond the wall billowed the moor, monotonous 
 yet majestic, the scene that called to Emily and Charlotte 
 Bronte's hearts, always, when they were far away. 
 
 My heart contracted as I thought of them there; and 
 when we 'd walked back to the village street, and been 
 admitted to the museum, I was on the point of crying 
 
 not for myself, but with the choked grief one might 
 have on opening a box of old letters from a loved, dead 
 friend. It is the most intimate, touching little jumble 
 of pathetic souvenirs you ever saw in a museum; more 
 like treasures guarded by near relations than a collection 
 for public eyes to see; but that makes the poignant charm 
 of it. I could have sobbed on a pink print frock with a
 
 432 SET IN SILVER 
 
 cape, such as Jane Eyre might have worn at Thornfield, 
 and on bits of unfinished needlework, simple lace collars, 
 and water-colour sketches with which Charlotte tried 
 to brighten the walls of her austere home. There was the 
 poor dear's wedding shawl, and a little checked silk dress 
 of which I 'm sure she was innocently proud; a few 
 fantastic drawings of Bram well's; a letter or two from 
 the sisters; and a picture of the Reverend Carus Wilson, 
 who was supposed to be Mr. Brocklehurst; just the 
 rather handsome, well-fed, self-satisfied man you would 
 expect him to be. 
 
 I think, dear, that Haworth has done me good, and 
 helped me to be brave. Again and again I turned, when 
 we 'd left, to look back at the church tower, and try to 
 gather some of the Bronte courage before we slipped 
 away down many a dark hill toward Bradford, as night 
 gathered us in. 
 
 I may need all the courage that I have borrowed and 
 cashed in advance, because suspense is worse than the 
 pain of any blow. 
 
 We leave here early to-morrow morning for Gray lees 
 Castle in Warwickshire and the tour is at an end. 
 
 Your AUDRIE, who loves and 
 longs for you.
 
 XL 
 
 AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER 
 
 Graylees Castle 
 Night of September 12th 
 
 DEAREST AND WISEST: I remember the first letter 
 I wrote you (on July Fourth) about the Ellaline business 
 began with expressions something like this: "Fireworks! 
 Roman Candles ! ! Rockets ! ! ! " 
 
 Well, my last letter about the Ellaline business begins 
 with explosions, too. A whole gunpowder plot has 
 exploded: Dick's plot. 
 
 We got here in the afternoon; an uneventful run, for Sir 
 Lionel was always the same; cool but kind. I could n't 
 believe Dick had told him anything. 
 
 Graylees is a place to be proud of, and you would 
 never know there had been a fire in the castle but no 
 injury was done to the oldest part. Mrs. Norton says 
 Graylees is called the "miniature Warwick," but it 
 doesn't look a miniature anything: it seems enormous. 
 There 's a great hall, with suits of armour scattered about, 
 and weapons of all periods arranged in intricate patterns 
 on the stone wall; and a minstrels' gallery, and quantities 
 of grand old Tudor and Stuart furniture; there 's a 
 haunted picture-gallery where a murdered bride walks 
 each Christmas Eve, beautifully dressed; there 's a suite 
 433
 
 434 SET IN SILVER 
 
 of rooms in which kings and queens have occasionally 
 slept since the time when Henry Seventh reigned ; there 's 
 a priest's "hidie hole," and secret dungeons under the 
 big dining-hall where people used to revel while their 
 prisoners writhed ; and but I have n't seen nearly 
 all yet. 
 
 The room allotted to me looks down from its high 
 tower on to a mossy moat choked with pink and white 
 water lilies; on a stone terrace this side of a sunken 
 garden, a peacock plays sentinel, with his tail spread like a 
 jewelled shield; and against the sky dark, horizontal 
 branches of Lebanon cedars stretch, like arms of black- 
 clad priests pronouncing a blessing. May the blessing 
 rest upon this house forever! 
 
 I hardly saw the country through which we came, 
 though it was George Eliot's country; and I half expected 
 something to happen as soon as we arrived; Sir Lionel 
 perhaps turning on me at last, and saying icily: "I know 
 everything, but don't want a scandal. Go quietly, at once." 
 
 Nothing of the sort came to pass, however. We had 
 tea in the great hall, brought by an old butler who had 
 known Sir Lionel when he visited the uncle who left 
 Graylees to him. Afterward, Mrs. Norton showed me 
 "my room," where already a maid engaged for "Miss 
 Lethbridge" had unpacked most of my things, the 
 big luggage having arrived before us. My heart gave 
 a jump when I saw the drawers, and big cedar-lined 
 wardrobes full of finery; but settled down again when I 
 remembered that almost everything belonged to Ellaline, 
 and that my legitimate possessions could be packed again 
 in about five minutes.
 
 SETINSILVER 435 
 
 Before the change of friendship's weather at Chester, 
 I think Sir Lionel would have wanted to take me round 
 his domain, indoors and out, but no such suggestion was 
 made. I was in my room, and there I stayed; but I felt 
 too restless to settle down and write to you. I kept wait- 
 ing for something, as you do for a clock to strike, when 
 you know it is bound to strike soon. 
 
 By and by it was time to dress for dinner. I could n't 
 bear to wear one of the grand Ellaline dresses, so I put 
 on the old black. I did look a frump in it, in such a place 
 as Graylees Castle, where everything ought to be beau- 
 tiful and rich, but I did my hair as nicely as I could, and 
 from the top of my head to my shoulders I was n't so bad. 
 
 I went downstairs at eight o'clock, and Mrs. Senter 
 was already in the great hall, standing in front of the 
 splendid stone fireplace, watching her rings sparkle in 
 the light of the wood fire, and resting one pretty foot on a 
 paw of the left-hand carved stone wolf that supports a 
 ledge of the mantelpiece just as if it belonged to her 
 and she had tamed it. She glanced up when I appeared, 
 and smiled vaguely, but did n't speak. She seemed 
 thoughtful. 
 
 After awhile, Emily came, swishing silkily. Mrs. 
 Senter began to talk to her, praising the place; and then, 
 just before the quarter past dinner-time Sir Lionel 
 joined us, looking nice, but tired. Mrs. Senter gave 
 him a sweet smile, and he smiled back, absent-mindedly. 
 He gave her his arm in to dinner, and she did clever things 
 with her eyelashes, which made her seem to blush. She wore 
 a white dress I 'd not seen yet, a simple string of pearls 
 round her neck, and quite a maidenly or bridal look.
 
 436 "SET IN SILVER 
 
 I could n't wonder at Sir Lionel if he admired her! At 
 the dinner-table (which was beautiful with flowers, lots 
 of silver, and old crystal a picture against the dark oak 
 panelling) Mrs. Senter was on his right hand, I on his 
 left, his sister playing hostess. This was as usual; but 
 as it was the first time in his own house, somehow it made 
 Mrs. Senter seem of more importance. He and she 
 talked together a good deal, and she said some witty things, 
 but spent herself mostly in drawing him out. He did n't 
 speak to me, except to deign a question about my room, 
 or ask whether I would have a certain thing to eat. I 
 felt a dreadful lump, and worth about "thirty cents," as 
 Dad used to say. 
 
 After dinner, when Emily took us to a charming 
 drawing-room, all white, with an old spinet in one 
 corner, Sir Lionel stopped away for a few minutes; but 
 when he came Mrs. Senter grabbed him immediately. 
 She would n't let him hear, when Emily inquired if 
 I could sing, accompanying myself on the spinet, but 
 began asking him eagerly about the library, which it 
 seems is rather famous. 
 
 "You shall see it to-morrow, if you like," said he. 
 
 "Oh, mayn't I have a peep to-night?" she begged, 
 prettily. "Do take me. Just one peep." 
 
 So he took her, of course, and the peep prolonged itself 
 indefinitely. I had a sinking presentiment that my 
 dreadful flare-up with Dick had been in vain, and that 
 after all she would inveigle him into proposing to her 
 this very night. Since I refused to tell him that her 
 damask cheek was being preyed upon by love of him, 
 she would probably intimate as much herself, and bury
 
 SET IN SILVETl 437 
 
 her head between her hands, looking incredibly sad and 
 lovable. Sir Lionel would n't be the man to fight such 
 tactics as those! I knew he didn't, wouldn't, and 
 could n't love her one little bit, but he would be sorry 
 for her, and sacrifice himself rather than she should suffer 
 for his sake, when he might make her happy. 
 
 Emily chatted to me pleasantly about the church, and 
 the vicar at Graylees, and family tombs, and such cheer- 
 ful things, to which I said " Yes " and " No " whenever she 
 stopped; but a cold perspiration was coming out on my 
 forehead. I was just as sure as that I was alive, that 
 Mrs. Senter did n't meaii to leave the library until Sir 
 Lionel had made her a present of himself, his books, and 
 his castle. Probably my sub-conscious self or astral 
 body was there, hearing every word they said. Anyhow, 
 I knew. And I could do nothing. A thumb-screw or a 
 rack would have been a pleasant relief. 
 
 Suddenly we heard the sound of a carriage driving 
 quickly up to the house. 
 
 "Who can that be?" wondered Mrs. Norton. "It's 
 after half-past nine." 
 
 "Very likely it 's Mr. Burden," said I; the first mod- 
 erately intelligent remark I 'd made since we were left 
 together. 
 
 She agreed with me that this was probable; but when 
 fifteen, twenty, forty minutes passed by the clock, and 
 Dick did not appear, she changed her mind. It must 
 have been someone to see Sir Lionel, she thought, on 
 business that would n't wait. I was not convinced of 
 this, and longed for her to ring and ask a footman who 
 had come; but I could n't very well suggest it.
 
 438 SETINSILVER 
 
 The house did sound so silent, that my ears rang, as 
 they do when one listens to a shell! 
 
 Ten; ten-fifteen; ten-thirty; a Louis Quatorze clock 
 chimed. Hardly had it got the last two strokes out of 
 its mouth, when Sir Lionel opened the door. He was 
 pale, in that frightening way that tanned skins do turn 
 pale, and he did n't seem to see his sister. He looked 
 straight past her at me, and his eyes shone. 
 
 "I want very much to speak to you," he said. His 
 voice shook ever so slightly, as if he were going 
 into a battle where he knew he would be killed, and 
 felt solemn about it, but otherwise was rather pleased 
 than not. 
 
 Then I knew my time had come. I almost looked for 
 the steps of the guillotine, but I was suddenly too blind to 
 see them if they had been under my nose. 
 
 "Very well," I said, and got up from my chair. 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed Emily, "don't go. "If you have 
 anything to say to Ellaline, which you 'd like to say to her 
 alone, let me go. I am getting sleepy, and was just 
 thinking about bed. Perhaps I might say good-night 
 to you both?" 
 
 "Good-night, dear," answered Sir Lionel. I had 
 never heard him call her that before. 
 
 " Say good-night to Mrs. Senter for me," went on Emily 
 to us both. 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Lionel. But I don't think he had 
 heard. 
 
 Mrs. Norton swished silkily out. The door shut. I 
 braced myself, and looked up at him. His eyes were on 
 my face, and they were full of light. I supposed it
 
 SET IN SILVER 439 
 
 must be righteous anger; but it was a beautiful look 
 too good to waste on such a passion, even a righteous 
 form of it. 
 
 "You poor child," he said in a low voice, standing 
 quite near me. " You have gone through a great deal." 
 
 I started as if he had shot me that way of begin- 
 ning was so different from anything I had expected. 
 
 "Wh-what do you mean?" I stammered. 
 
 " That I always knew you were brave, but that you 're 
 a hundred times braver than I thought you. Dick has 
 come back. He has brought with him a girl and a man 
 from Scotland bride and groom." 
 
 All the strength went out of me. I felt as if my body 
 had turned to liquid and left only my brain burning, and 
 my heart throbbing . But I did n't fall. I fancy I caught 
 the back of a tall chair, and held on for dear life. 
 
 "Ellaline," I murmured. 
 
 "Yes, Ellaline," he said. "Thank God, you are not 
 Ellaline." 
 
 " Thank God ? " I echoed in weak wonder. 
 
 " I thank God, yes, because it was killing me to believe 
 that you were Ellaline to believe you false, and friv- 
 olous, and a flirt, just because of the blood I thought 
 you had in your veins. And I exaggerated everything 
 you did, till I made a mountain out of each fancied fault. 
 That fellow Burden brought Ellaline here just mar- 
 ried to her Frenchman to-day because he wanted to 
 ruin you. He told me with pride how he 'd ferretted out 
 the whole secret traced you to your address in Ver- 
 sailles, learned your real name told everything, in fact, 
 except that he 'd been blackmailing you, forcing you for
 
 440 SETINSILVER 
 
 your friend's sake to actions you hated. He did n't tell 
 me that part, naturally, but there was no need, because 
 I 
 
 " What what have you done to him ? " The words 
 came limping, because of the look in his eyes, which shot 
 forth a sword. 
 
 " Oh, unluckily it 's under my own roof, so I could do 
 no more than bid him clear out if he did n't want to be 
 kicked out!" 
 
 "Gone!" I whispered. 
 
 " Yes, gone. And as Mrs. Senter 's very loyal to her 
 nephew, she prefers to leave with him, though she has 
 had nothing to do with his plottings did n't even know, 
 and I asked her to stay. She insists on going to-night when 
 he does. I 'm sorry. But it can't be helped. I cannot 
 think of her now." 
 
 "Ellaline " I began faintly; but he cut me short, 
 
 with a kind of generous impatience. "Yes, yes, you 
 shall see her. She wants to see you, now that she under- 
 stands, but " 
 
 " Understands ? " 
 
 " Why, you see, that little beast, Dick Burden 
 whose mother 's staying near where Ellaline was in 
 Scotland went there straight from Bamborough, and 
 put the girl up to believe you 'd been playing her false 
 prejudicing me against her interests, trying to keep for 
 yourself things that ought to be hers; so apparently she 
 worked herself into a hysterical state must have, or 
 she would n't have believed him against you; and the 
 instant she was married to her Frenchman, who 'd come 
 to claim her, all three dashed off here to ' confront ' you,
 
 SET IN SILVER 441 
 
 as that cad Burden explained to me. I could n't under- 
 stand what they were all driving at just at first, but I saw 
 that the girl was the living image of her mother, con- 
 sequently the thing did n't need as much explaining in 
 any way as it might otherwise." 
 
 " She was horribly afraid you would n't let her marry 
 him," I broke in, getting breath and voice back at last. 
 
 "So she said. Oh, when she knew Burden had lied 
 to her about you, she repented her disloyalty, and told 
 me how you hated the whole thing. I don't wonder she 
 thought me a brute, never writing, never seeming to care 
 whether she was alive or dead; I see now I was a brute; 
 but it 's you who 've shown me that, not she. However, 
 she will reap the benefit. I daresay three months ago I 
 should have growled over such a marriage, felt inclined 
 to wash my hands of the girl, perhaps, but now now 
 I 'm delighted to have her married and off my hands. 
 That sounds callous, but I can't help it. It 's true. 
 The Frenchman seems a gentleman, and fond of her 
 trust Ellaline de Nesville's daughter to make men fall in 
 love! and I wish them both joy." 
 
 " But but if he 's poor ? " I dared to question. 
 
 " Oh, that '11 be all right. I 'm so thankful for the way 
 everything has turned out, I 'd give her half my fortune. 
 That would be asinine, of course; but I shall settle a 
 thousand a year on her for life, and give her a wedding 
 present of a cheque for twenty thousand, I think. Should 
 you say that would be enough to satisfy them ?" 
 
 "They ought to be distracted with joy," I said 
 (though deep in my heart I knew that Ellaline is never 
 likely to be satisfied with anything done for her. She
 
 442 SET IN SILVER 
 
 always feels it might have been a little more). "But," I 
 went on, " maybe it 's selfish to think of myself 
 now but I can't help it for a moment. I have been 
 so ashamed so humiliated, I could hardly bear 
 and yet I know you won't, you can't, see that there 's 
 any excuse " 
 
 " Did n't I tell you that I thought you very brave ? " 
 he asked, looking at me more kindly than I deserved. 
 
 "Yes. And I was brave." I took credit to myself. 
 " But brave people can be wicked. I have hated myself, 
 knowing how you 'd hate me when " 
 
 " I don't hate you," he said. " The question is do 
 you hate me ?" 
 
 I gasped because I was so far from hating him; and 
 suddenly I was afraid he might suspect exactly how far. 
 "No," said I. "But then, that is different. I never 
 had any reason to hate you." 
 
 " Did n't EUaline warn you I was a regular dragon ?" 
 
 I could n't help laughing, because that had been our 
 
 very name for him. " Oh, well, she " I began to 
 
 apologize. 
 
 " You need n't be afraid to confess," said he. " In the 
 exuberance of her relief at finding all well, and not only 
 being forgiven, but petted, she told me what a different 
 man I was from the murderous image in her mind; and 
 that she saw now you were right about me. Is it possible 
 you defended me to her?" 
 
 " But of course," I said. 
 
 " In spite of all the injustice I did you and showed 
 that I did you ? " 
 
 " I always felt myself to blame, and yet yet it
 
 SET IN SILVER 443 
 
 hurt me when I saw you disapproved of me. Since 
 Chester " 
 
 " It was that ring stuck in my throat," said he. 
 
 "You knew?" I stammered, turning red. 
 
 " Saw it in a shop window. And now I know why you 
 did it why you did everything, I think. Heavens, 
 what good it would have done me to kick that little beast 
 Burden all around the park!" 
 
 "There wouldn't have been anything left of him, if 
 you had," I giggled, beginning to feel hysterical. "Oh, 
 I am glad he 's gone, though. I shall be going myself 
 to-morrow, of course, but " 
 
 " No," he said. "No, that must not be. I Ellaline 
 wants you." 
 
 "Had n't I better see her now ?" I asked meekly. 
 
 " Not yet. Tell me did that cad try you too far 
 at Bamborough, and did you defy him ?" 
 
 I nodded Yes. 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 " He did n't do anything. He wanted me to promise 
 something." 
 
 "To marry him at once?" Sir Lionel was looking 
 dangerous. 
 
 " No-o. It was n't anything about me. I can't tell you, 
 because it concerns someone else. Please don't ask me." 
 
 "I won't. If it concerns someone else, not yourself, 
 I don't care. Yes, I do, though. Did it concern me? 
 Can you answer me that?" 
 
 "I can answer so far, if you don't press me further. 
 
 It did concern you. I would not sacrifice vou to 
 
 but I don't want to go on, please!"
 
 444 SETINSILVER 
 
 "You shan't. That 's enough. You sacrificed your- 
 self rather than sacrifice me. You " 
 
 "I 'd sinned enough against you." 
 
 "You gave me back my youth." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 "Don't you know I love you worship you adore 
 you ?" 
 
 Yes, he said that, mother. His lips said it, and his 
 dear, dear eyes. I looked up to them, and mine over- 
 flowed, and he needed no other answer, for he took me 
 in his arms. I did n't know people could be so happy. 
 I could have died in that moment, only I would much, 
 much rather live. 
 
 In a few minutes we told each other heaps of things 
 about the way we felt, and the way we had felt, and com- 
 pared notes; and it was heavenly. He 'd bought back 
 the darling ring in Chester, and now he put it on my 
 finger again; and I 'm sure, dearest, that you won't mind 
 our being engaged ? 
 
 He says he has adored me ever since the first day, and 
 will to the last, then on into the next world, because 
 there can't be a next world that won't be full of his love 
 for me. And I adore him, ah, how I adore him and you 
 will come here to live wth us in this beautiful old castle, 
 where, like the Prince and Princess of the fairy stories, 
 we will be happy ever after. 
 
 I have seen Ellaline, and she is well and hugged me a 
 great deal. Her Honore is really very handsome; but I 
 can't write about them now, though they have been so 
 important in my life; and without them there would have 
 been no life worth speaking of.
 
 SET IN SILVER 445 
 
 Emily and Lionel (I am to call him that now) will take 
 me to you, and everything shall be arranged as you wish. 
 Dear little, wise mother, I wonder if you ever thought 
 it might end like this ? I did n't. But he is the most 
 glorious man who ever happened. Only, he didn't 
 happen. All the rest of the world not counting you 
 happened. He just had to be. 
 
 Your loving, perfectly happy 
 
 AUDRIE. 
 
 THE END
 
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