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OUR MANIFOLD NATURE 
 
 STORIES FROM LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 SARAH GRAND 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 IDEALA, A STUDY FROM LIFE, THE HEAVENLY TWINS, ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1894 
 
CoPTRiGHT, 1893, 1894, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed 
 
 AT THE APPLETON PrESS, U. S. A. 
 

 PREFACE. 
 
 These stories are simp]y what they profess to be — 
 studies from life. They appeared originally in magazines, 
 some of them in a more or less unsatisfactory condition, 
 having been mutilated for convenience of space, or in 
 order to remove from them any idea of unusual import. 
 Successful magazines dig deep grooves for themselves, and 
 anything that does not fit into these is shunned as dan- 
 gerous. Once established, they become for the most part 
 unprogressive, neither leading nor following, but continu- 
 ing to offer us the kind of thing that pleased our parents. 
 Consequently they cease to appeal to us, and finally expire 
 in a resolute effort to resist any attempt to induce them to 
 air the grievances, touch upon the interests, or meet the 
 special demands generally of the present generation. 
 Diffident young writers, full of the force which is carry- 
 ing us onward and upward, and cruelly perplexed be- 
 tween what they perceive and which those in authority 
 insist that they ought to be perceiving, crawl along in 
 them on feet of lead until the restraint becomes unbear- 
 able, and then they break out on their own account in 
 new directions, and their success proves to be the death- 
 blow of their oppressors. The old order changeth in this 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 as in all else. We arc growing and learning to walk, and 
 must have room to tumble about in ; if those who are left 
 to find out for themselves how to do it have the most 
 falls, they are also the strongest eventually. There is 
 more to be done than our ancestors did, and more to find 
 out than they ever discovered. Many thanks to them, 
 nevertheless, for all that we owe them. 
 
 Fiction has always been held to be at its best when it 
 was true to life. To be true to life seemed, therefore, to 
 be the noblest ambition of an author, and this has led in 
 our day to an effort to go beyond the mere semblance and 
 grasp the reality of life. But those who try it are immedi- 
 ately met with the objection that their work is inartistic. 
 Fiction is found fault with because it is not fact, and fact 
 because it is not fiction. It is the old story of the man, 
 the boy, and the donkey. Personally, I 'think the only 
 art worth cultivating is the art to be interesting. If a 
 book is readable, it is churlish to object to it because it 
 has not been made so by methods which succeeded in 
 somebody else's work. To " make school " is doubtless 
 gratifying to an author as a proof of success ; but all that 
 imitators make is much monotony for the reader. A 
 novel, it seems to me, should be like life itself — an unfold- 
 ing, and not a regular structure ; but at the same time I 
 recognise that in many moods, and to many minds only 
 artificial regularity is acceptable. That form was the 
 outcome of a day which we have not yet done with. 
 
 But there is one thing which strikes me as significant, 
 and it may be instructive, with regard to these little 
 essays of my own in the new direction, and that is that 
 it is not the embellishments, but the literal facts, which 
 
PREFACE. y 
 
 have been attacked by the critics as " melodramatic" and 
 " altogether impossible " — as, for instance, in The Yellow 
 Leaf. There is no fiction whatever in Evangeline's story. 
 It began, continued, and ended exactly as described, yet 
 nearly every one has fallen foul of the conclusion as 
 being improbable, especially for the reasons which are 
 shown to have led up to it. This would seem to in- 
 dicate that, in order to be convincing, a study from life 
 must be a garnished interpretation rather than a literal 
 translation. An actor has to paint his face to make it 
 look natural in the glare of the footlights, and some 
 analogous process must be resorted to by the writer who 
 would produce the effect of life in his work. We are ac- 
 customed to the false and conventional in this branch of 
 art as we are to the distorted figure of a fashionable 
 woman, and, consequently, when truth and nature are 
 presented to us, they strike us at first as strange ; we do 
 not recognise them, and we do not like them. 
 
 These studies were as experiments, and they now ap- 
 pear for the first time, unmutilated as well as carefully 
 revised. 
 
 Fehruary, ISO4. 
 
 Sarah Grand. 
 
 o^ 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Eugenia 1 
 
 The Yellow Leaf 53 
 
 Janey, a Humble Administrator 148 
 
 boomellen 181 
 
 Kane, a Soldier Servant . , . . , . , 204 
 
 Ah Man 221 
 
EUGENIA. 
 I. 
 
 I AM a humble artist, studying always in the life- 
 school of the world, blinking nothing that goes to the 
 making or marring of life, more especially to the marring 
 of it, for if we would make it lovely, we must know ex- 
 actly the nature of the diseases that disfigure it, and 
 experiment upon them until we discover the great specific 
 which, when properly applied, shall remedy all that. And 
 it so happened that, in order to be accurate in every detail 
 of a work upon which I was then engaged, I required to 
 study human nature, as it appears behind the scenes, at 
 the time of night when that part of a theatre is most 
 characteristically crowded with the company in costume, 
 and such visitors as are admitted. A brother of mine 
 made the necessary arrangements for me, and was so 
 good as to escort me himself, the leading managers, to 
 whom he had explained my difficulty, having most cour- 
 teously allowed me free access for my purpose. I have 
 only to mention here one of the numerous little items of 
 interest I noted at the time. It happened at the begin- 
 ning of the enterprise when everything was new and 
 strange,, and while the incident itself, although trivial, re- 
 mains distinctly impressed upon my mind, the surround- 
 
 Copyright, 1893, l)y I). Api.leton iS: Co. 
 
2 EUGENIA. 
 
 ing details, doubtless because of their number and nov- 
 elty, escape me for the most part, as in a well-balanced 
 picture when all is unobtrusive, save the main idea ; but 
 I remember that we were wedged in a crowd of theatrical 
 characters variously and even fantastically attired as if 
 for a fancy-dress ball, and that the clatter of tongues was 
 bewildering. Eauk odours of a variety of scents saluted 
 one's afflicted nostrils on all sides. This way white rose 
 flowed from a fan, which a much-bedizened, vulgarly 
 handsome daughter of the people was waving over a 
 repulsively dissipated-looking young man in evening dress 
 who was sprawling disrespectfully on a couch. On the 
 other side patchouly polluted the air, and wood violet on a 
 nymph in front of us was waging war with the whisky and 
 eau de Cologne which w^ere being wafted abroad by an old 
 unvenerable man who was essaying to ogle with dim v/atery 
 eyes, and to simper with loose lips that were too tremulous 
 to respond simultaneously to the weak-willed intention. 
 Every affectation of society was apparent about us, but 
 coarsened into caricature. Flirtations were more evident, 
 and grosser in the conduct of them, than in Belgravia, and 
 powder, paint, and paste-diamonds were flaunted more con- 
 spicuously. Tight lacing was also carried to a more painful 
 extent. Women's voices shrilled loudly, the cockney accent 
 predominating. Most of the things said struck me as being 
 disagreeably personal and flippant, when not actually coarse 
 and rude. The laughter was noisy and incessant, but mirth- 
 less, and although there was plenty of excitement in the as- 
 sembly, there was obviously little if any genuine pleasure, 
 and as to happiness, I could detect no line, even on the 
 youngest face, to indicate it. The predominant expression 
 
EUGENIA. 3 
 
 was one of anxiety, only relieved in the more callous by mo- 
 ments of sensual apathy. As a whole the scene remains im- 
 pressed upon my mind as an unlovely travesty of much to 
 which one becomes accustomed in society, but it possessed 
 the attraction of repulsion for me, and I could have stood 
 there studying all night. 
 
 My brother knew many of the people present, but I 
 only saw one man with whom I was personally acquainted, 
 and it so happened that I knew him well, for it was Brink- 
 hampton, the eldest son of a near neighbour of ours in my 
 childhood. The two families had always been intimate. 
 
 He was standing talking to some woman just behind 
 me, and I recognised liis voice before I saw him. 
 
 "I'm sure your waist's smaller than Kitty Green's," 
 he was saying quite earnestly. 
 
 " Aow, nao, you flatter me," the lady responded nasally. 
 " Only I daown't tight laice." 
 
 There was a little pause, then Brinkhamptou asked : 
 " What are you looking for ? " 
 
 " My fan. I laid it on the taible." 
 
 " Here it is. Let me have the pleasure of fanning 
 you." 
 
 " Pleasure, indeed ! Aow, I saiy ! What do you want, 
 I'd like to knaw ? With those sheep's eyes ! I'm up to 
 
 you " And so on all up the gamut of the cheapest 
 
 inanity, silly, sillier, and silliest. 
 
 I turned to look at the lady, expecting to see some- 
 thing so satisfying to the eye of man that no other sense 
 asked for anything, but she struck me as being a joyless 
 antique, largely proportioned, well-preserved, and still 
 able to aSect a sprightliness she must have been far from 
 
4 EUGKNIA. 
 
 feeling spontaneously at that time of life. " That was 
 the celebrated Sylvia," my brother told me as we came 
 away. 
 
 " Wherein lietli the charm of her fatal fascination ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " In irrcstige^ which lasts longer than anything," he 
 answered. 
 
 Out of the crowd and heat into the open air was an 
 intoxicating transition, so great was the relief of it. I 
 stood for some minutes on the pavement inhaling deep 
 draughts of the freshness, and feeling as if I could never 
 rid myself of the fever and fumes of that tawdry place. 
 
 II. 
 
 The next night, driving home late from some enter- 
 tainment, I was forced by a block in the traffic to sit for 
 some time at the entrance to a popular " Theatre of Va- 
 rieties." The lights blazed brilliantly, streaming across 
 the pavement and into the carriage so that I could have 
 read a book had I had one, and any of my friends seeing me 
 there must have recognised me. The thought was amus- 
 ing, particularly as I happened to be alone, but it was 
 also a trifle embarrassing, because the carriage I was in 
 belonged to friends with whom I was staying for the mo- 
 ment, austere people, whose livery was somewhat conspicu- 
 ous, and as they were well-known to the public, there was 
 always a chance of some enterprising reporter giving my 
 friends the credit in the next day's news of having spent 
 their evening at this garish resort. There was a fiendish 
 racket going on all about me. In the road, men, women 
 
EUGENIA. 
 
 and policemen, cabs, carts and carriages, seemed to be in- 
 extricably mixed, as if they had been performing some 
 mystical rite with which they were imperfectly acquainted, 
 the consequence of the confusion being great diilerences 
 of opinion, and eager, angry, incessant, loud disputes. I 
 "w^as busy looking out on that side, improving my knowl- 
 edge of the vulgar tongue by making notes in my own 
 mind of any peculiar expressions used, when I heard 
 myself addressed by name through the window on the 
 " Theatre of Varieties " side of me, and at the same mo- 
 ment recognised Brinkhampton. 
 
 " I thought I could not be mistaken," he was saying, 
 " however much I may be surprised by your choice of a 
 place of amusement." 
 
 " From whence come you?" I answered tranquilly. 
 
 "From these same halls of light," he replied, indicat- 
 ing the gaudy place behind him ; " and to tell you the 
 truth," he added, in a worn-out, weary, satiated way — " I 
 am sick of all that. I'm utterly used up. I think it's 
 time for me to reform and marry. Can you recommend 
 me to somebody who would make a nice wife ? I suppose 
 it wouldn't do for me to ask you for a seat in your car- 
 riage at this time of night?" This was said tentatively, 
 but I crushed the aspiration with a decided shake of my 
 head. Men have to have reputations nowadays, and I 
 should have been sorry to have been seen alone with 
 Brinkhampton under any circumstances — poor fellow — 
 although I had known him all my life. " I know you 
 are mighty particular," he went on, disconsolately, " but 
 I assure you I'm thoroughly in earnest this time. Let 
 me come and tell you all about it." 
 
6 EUGENIA. 
 
 As he blocked up the whole of the window, the fact 
 that he wus reeking of tobacco and stimulants could not 
 fail to impress me unpleasantly, and his somewhat bloated 
 features, inflamed eyes, and dissipated appearance gener- 
 ally rendered him still more unattractive to my fastidious 
 mind ; so, to get rid of him, I told him that I should be 
 " at home " next day, and if he came early enough, he 
 might find me alone for a few minutes. I quite expected 
 he would have no recollection of the engagement, but to 
 my surprise he arrived, and rather sooner too than was 
 altogether convenient. 
 
 It was evident from the way he was dressed, that the 
 matter had cost him some thought; but no care could 
 conceal the " used-up " look about his eyes, nor produce a 
 deceptive tinge of health on the opaque sallow of his 
 cheeks. The effort had not been wanting, his valet hav- 
 ing obviously done his best, but it is only a fresh and 
 healthy skin that really takes paint and powder well ; the 
 transparency once lost, artificial attempts to restore it 
 show on the surface like a light layer of dust on standing 
 water. But he was a 3'oung man still, and a good-looking 
 one too, of the big coarse-moustached type, a typical 
 guardsman, broad shouldered, and so apparently strong 
 that a casual acquaintance would never have suspected 
 flabby muscular tissue discounted by alcohol. He had a 
 pleasant voice, and his manners were easy and unaffected, 
 if a trifle too candidly self-complacent. With the old- 
 fashioned sort of society- woman he was a favourite, and I 
 confess I liked him well enough in a way myself, but 
 then I had acquired the habit of liking him when we were 
 children together. 
 
EUGENIA. 7 
 
 "Well, and so you are inclined to marry and settle?" 
 I said, as soon as we were seated. 
 
 " Not merely inclined," he answered, " I am quite de- 
 termined. I've had a good time, don't you know, rather 
 too much of a good time if anything, and now I feel it 
 would be better for me to settle ; and I want something 
 nice and young and fresh, with money, for a wife, so that 
 I may repair all my errors at once ; some one who has 
 lived all lier life at the back of beyond, never been any- 
 where nor seen anyone to speak of, and is refreshingly 
 unsophisticated enough to mistake the first man who pro- 
 poses to her for an unsullied hero of romance. And I 
 mean to be that man, don't you see." 
 
 " But where do I come into this delightfully delicate, 
 original plan?" I drily inquired. 
 
 " Well, you go a good deal to country houses," he 
 answered, with what might have been either a dash of 
 diffidence or a shade of anxiety in his manner. " You 
 must have met the kind of girl I want — good-looking, 
 you know, with an ivory skin and — and money. Don't 
 jeer at me. I'm in earnest." 
 
 I composed my countenance, and took time to reflect. 
 How to decline to help him without hurting his feelings 
 was the difficulty. There used to be a superstition in 
 society, that a man could at any time repair the errors of 
 his youth by making a good match, and there are women 
 still who will introduce " used-up " brothers and so on to 
 their girl friends as eligible husbands ; but I belong to 
 the party of progress myself, and would not under any 
 circumstances have done such a thing. I had not the 
 courage of my opinions, however, at that time to the ex- 
 
8 EUGENIA. 
 
 tent of saying so bluntly, and therefore I " smiling passed 
 the question by ; " but as I had not absolutely refused, he 
 chose to take it that I would help him if I could, and 
 thereupon he thanked me with effusion, and I could see 
 that he was more than satisfied, for it was as if a load of 
 care had been lifted from his mind and left him lighter- 
 hearted. 
 
 III. 
 
 That summer saw me seated one afternoon in a shady 
 nook on a cliff in the north, overlooking the sea. Behind 
 me there was a lovely stretch of country, hill and dale, 
 field and forest, with the gold of ripening grain, the 
 scarlet glint of intrusive poppies, and the manifold tints 
 of green, shooting to gray, and even to yellow and brown 
 in the woods, where the earlier trees were already assum- 
 ing a dash of their autumn bravery. Before me was the 
 mildly murmurous unrest of rippling wavelets, bursting 
 with incessant merriment as they feigned to fly from the 
 pursuit of the incoming tide, which flowed on always 
 swiftly over the long level reaches of the sandy shore. 
 It was a scene to soothe and enlighten, for such solitudes 
 people the mind with goodly companies of glad ideas, 
 and just and vigorous thoughts. My meditations were 
 not long uninterrupted that day, however, for in the most 
 absorbing midst of them I was aroused by the surprised 
 enunciation of my own name, and, on looking up, I dis- 
 covered Brinkhampton staring at me. 
 
 " Well ! " I ejaculated. " What are you doing here ? " 
 " Potting rabbits," he answered, sententiously. " I have 
 taken the shooting." 
 
EUGENIA. 9 
 
 " You mean to be in time for it, apparently." 
 
 " Oh, I thought I'd come and amuse myself with the 
 rabbits. It's the fresh air I want really, you see. My 
 nerves have all gone to pieces. I want to be out of sin- 
 ner's ways for awhile, and I knew fellows wouldn't come 
 bothering much before September. I've taken the shoot- 
 ing with leave to live about here for six months if it suits 
 me. In the absence of a lord, the lady of the manor lets 
 the right, I understand." 
 
 "Do you know her ? " I asked. 
 
 " No," he replied, " I have not that i)leasure. Do 
 you?" 
 
 " I am staying with her now." 
 
 Then there was a pause, during which Brinkhampton 
 carefully examined his gun, lock, stock, and barrel. " It's 
 a nice place," he remarked at last, glancing about him 
 comprehensively. " Is the lady as goodly as her acres?" 
 
 " Has she ' an ivory skin ' do you mean ? You may 
 judge for yourself, for behold her approach down yonder 
 forest glade, hatless, gloveless, robed in white, with a 
 purple parasol shielding the burnished brightness of her 
 lovely tresses from the too ardent kisses of the sun." 
 
 Brinkhampton stared with interest. 
 
 " She's quite young ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Twenty-one exactly," I replied. 
 
 He was about to say something else, but Eugenia had 
 come up to us by this time, and I hastened to present 
 them to each other. 
 
 " It is you who have taken my shooting oif my hands 
 this year, I suppose," Eugenia said, glancing at his gun. 
 
 " So I have just learnt," he answered, looking into her 
 
10 EUGENIA. 
 
 sweet grave face with undisgiiised interest and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 " I hope you will find it worth your while," she said. 
 *' The coverts are pretty well stocked this year, I believe. 
 Where have you put up ? " 
 
 " At the village inn," he answered with a grimace. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, " then you must be uncom- 
 fortable. When I heard you were coming alone, I hoped 
 you had friends in the neighbourhood with whom you 
 would stay." 
 
 " It so happens that I know nobody here as yet," he 
 replied. " But I really must get some decenter accom- 
 modation." 
 
 " Why not come to the hall ? " Eugenia asked easily. 
 *' It would be a kindness to help us to occupy a little 
 more of it. The house has suffered from having been so 
 long shut up." 
 
 The frank assurance of her manner seemed to sur- 
 prise him. He glanced at her gloveless left hand to see 
 if perchance she was married, and he confessed to me 
 afterwards he could not quite class her when he found 
 she wore no wedding-ring, being " puzzled to make out 
 whether she was Americanized, unsophisticated, or not 
 quite the right form, don't you know." But at any rate 
 the offer was a good one. 
 
 " I should be afraid of intruding," he feebly depre- 
 cated. 
 
 " No fear of that," she answered smiling ; then 
 appealing to me, she added : " I am sure I may say 
 we shall both be glad to see you. We dine at half-past 
 seven." 
 
EUGENIA. 11 
 
 We smartened ourselves up that evening somewhat in 
 honour of the young man, and I noticed that he and 
 Eugenia were studying feach other with a certain pleased 
 intentness which augured well for their future friendli- 
 ness. Certainly his coming had enlivened Eugenia as the 
 coming of an eligible should enliven a girl, and I waited 
 with interest to hear what she had to say about him. He 
 had been looking his best when they met in the after- 
 noon, the rough tweed shooting suit he wore being just 
 of the cut and colour best adapted to conceal his defects, 
 but his evening dress was altogether too calculated for 
 effect, too evidently the outcome of serious attention to 
 be manly. There was more than a suspicion of some hor- 
 rid expensive scent about him, and his cheeks had a vel- 
 vety texture which was cruelly suggestive of powder — 
 apropos of all of which Eugenia remarked to me after- 
 wards in a mysterious whisper laughingly : " I suspect 
 stays." But that was all she said about him, somewhat 
 to my surprise, for I should have expected that the ad- 
 vent of a man of that kind would have caused a flutter of 
 curiosity at least in the heart of a country girl. How- 
 ever in such a case not asking questions is no proof of an 
 absence of interest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Eugenia and I breakfasted at half-past eight next 
 morning, but Brinkhampton did not appear until after 
 ten. It was Sunday, and we were in the breakfast-room 
 ready dressed for church when he entered. 
 
 "What will you have?" Eugenia, as hostess, asked 
 him, thinking of tea, coffee or chocolate. 
 
12 EUGENIA. 
 
 " Aw," he answered, looking round to the sideboard, 
 " chiret or hock, I really don't care which." 
 
 Eugenia ordered both to be brought, and then we hur- 
 ried away to church. 
 
 In the middle of the Litany Brinkhampton entered, 
 and, lounging down the aisle with conspicuous delibera- 
 tion, took a side seat from which he could survey us all 
 at his ease. He was dressed, as usual, with extreme atten- 
 tion to detail, in the manner most approved for the 
 occasion, and it was certainly not his fault if the latest 
 thing in frock coats, as worn by himself, appeared to be 
 ridiculously singular to the rest of the congregation in 
 contrast to the archaic cut to which their eyes were accus- 
 tomed. He looked hard at Eugenia from the moment he 
 took his seat, but she was deep in her devotions, and took 
 not the slightest notice of him. 
 
 It was a quaint, old-fashioned little church, only at- 
 tended as a rule by tenants on the estates and the house- 
 hold at the hall, close to which it was so situated as to 
 seem more of a private chapel than a public place of wor- 
 ship. All about us, in the midst of the quiet people, Eu- 
 genia's ancestors were taking their long rest. Knight and 
 dame, lord and lady, soldier, sailor, and priest, good and 
 bad, looked dov>^n upon us or appeared prone in effigies of 
 stone upon old tombs, while tablets of brass or marble re- 
 corded the brave deeds of one, the learning of another, the 
 statesmanship of a third, and so on, ascribing every avail- 
 able virtue to each. I have often seen Eugenia beguiling 
 the tedious sermon-time by studying these tablets, and 
 always imagined her ignorant of the true characters of her 
 notorious ancestors, idealizing them all, and being elevated 
 
EUGENIA. 13 
 
 by the deep interest, the natural alTection, and the innate 
 reverence she must feel for those to whom she attributed 
 all that was best about her. 
 
 She was peculiarly situated, being one of a long line of 
 dominant women, the estates having descended from 
 mother to daughter in regular succession, in accordance 
 with a curse which had been laid upon all heirs male of 
 the family forever — so it was said — or, at all events, until 
 such time as an heiress should contrive to expiate the 
 crime for which the sons of her house were (somewhat un- 
 fairly, as it seems to our modern ideas of justice) doomed 
 to suffer. Eugenia had been left an orphan at an early 
 age, and brought up in the midst of a people who still 
 clung fervently to all the old-world superstitions. I did 
 not know how much of these she accepted literally, but I 
 always attributed a certain dignity and general air as of 
 one who is not to be trifled with, which settled upon her 
 early, to the romantic associations of the place, and her 
 faith in those who had gone before. They, her people, 
 having been noble, it was proper that she also should be 
 self-respecting and noble too — so, at least, I read her re- 
 flections when I watched her weigliing the worth of those 
 epitaphs in her own mind Sunday after Sunday as she 
 grew to girlhood, and I fancied that tlie gentle gravity, 
 which gradually became the habitual expression of her 
 countenance in repose, was due to thoughts like these. 
 
 This morning, however, she was not thinking of her 
 ancestors in the pauses of the service. AVhen her eyes 
 wandered at all it was to the green graves in the church- 
 yard, and the old trees that sheltered them. The day was 
 warm and bright, and through the open windows the 
 
1^ EUGENIA. 
 
 scented summer air streamed in upon lier, and also there 
 came an incessant twittering of birds, the coo of a wood- 
 jiigeon now and then, and the hoarse caws of rooks — not 
 as interruptions to the service, however, but rather as an 
 accustomed addition to it, the whole, with the rural 
 people, sober in dress, and solemnly attentive in their de- 
 meanour, producing an impression of remoteness from 
 the world and proportionate nearness to nature, which 
 was inexpressibly soothing. Even Brinkhampton's starved 
 soul expanded for the moment just enough to let him feel 
 some joy in life — something sufficiently worth having to 
 make him forget for once to measure time with a view to 
 shortening it, or " passing " it, as is the insane fashion of 
 those who have not learnt to live. 
 
 When the service was over he walked on with me to 
 the house, Eugenia having lingered in the porch talking 
 to the people. 
 
 "I have found my ideal ! " he exclaimed fervently, as 
 soon as we were alone. 
 
 " Ivory skin and all ? " 
 
 " Don't be malicious," ho answered. " I'm in earnest. 
 But I've a bone to pick with you. You seem to have for- 
 gotten your promise to me. Why did you not tell me of 
 this lovely lady hidden away here in the hills?" 
 
 " For the reason you mention," I answered coolly. " I 
 had forgotten your request." 
 
 " How could you ; when she is so exactly what I asked 
 you to find for me too ! But tell me about her. How 
 does she come to be so situated — here, you know, like 
 this?" 
 
 " She is in a somewhat unusual position," I answered. 
 
EUGENIA. 15 
 
 " She has no relation in the whole world but an old uncle 
 — who was once in your regiment, by the way. All her 
 own people died in her infancy, and she has been brought 
 up here principally by a very charming and excellent 
 woman who came to be her governess, and has remained 
 to be a mother to her. She is away just now, and I am 
 here on duty partly, looking after Eugenia, you know, 
 during her absence. The property's nice, is it not? It 
 was a good deal encumbered by debts, but has been well 
 nursed during Eugenia's long minority, and she is bent 
 upon economy herself until it is cleared." 
 
 " Then she really is sole heiress ? " he observed, look- 
 ing about him with an air of complete satisfaction, as if 
 he already had a proprietary right to the place. 
 
 " Sole inheritress, I should say. Half the neighbour- 
 hood is hers." 
 
 " But why should she be buried here still?" he asked, 
 then added : " But I am glad she has been. I should like 
 to see her wonder Avhen she enters the great world ! her 
 delight when she finds what it really is to be mistress of 
 means, with jewels and lace, a centre of attraction ! She 
 can't know what her wealth is worth a bit until she comes 
 into competition with other women and finds herself able 
 to eclipse them." 
 
 This noble thought seemed to enchant him, and I 
 could see he was hugging himself already ou the prospect 
 of her brilliant social success, and the glory which it would 
 reflect upon himself. 
 
 I made him no answer because I had determined to be 
 neutral. Here were the conventional elements of most 
 romances, youth, beauty, rank, wealth, experienced man. 
 
IQ EUGENIA. 
 
 inexperienced girl — but not a commonplace girl either. 
 There was no knowing exactly how she would act under 
 the circumstances, and the uncertainty was great enough 
 to relieve the story from insipidity. I thought it would 
 be interesting to watch the plot unfold, and I was anxious 
 to see for myself how this Ouidaesque hero would really 
 strike a modern maiden with ideas of her own. 
 
 That kind of man is accustomed to the Sylvias in and 
 out of society, who will sell their immortal souls for gew- 
 gaws, and his mind had probably continued to divert him 
 with promises of the irresistible attraction of such things 
 when used with women as an argument to influence their 
 feelings, for at our early Sunday dinner he said a good 
 deal about diamonds, to which Eugenia listened with evi- 
 dent interest. She was highly intelligent, and at an age 
 when the opposite point of view is always surprising. She 
 was not in the habit of saying much, however. Brink- 
 hampton was voluble, and she heard him out, then an- 
 swered with a smile and in a casual tone : " You seem 
 to be fond of diamonds. I have a lot upstairs somewhere 
 if you would like to see them. I used to delight in them 
 myself for their glitter when I was a child, but now of 
 course I only value them for the sake of any little family 
 history that attaches to them." 
 
 Brinkhampton stared at her, not at all perceiving that 
 the art of being agreeable to a Sylvia is not always effect- 
 ual with other girls, and divided between the pleasing 
 thought that Eugenia would appreciate her advantages 
 better by-and-by, when she came into competition with 
 other women, and had opportunities of testing the value 
 of diamonds as an aid to eclipsing them, and an uncom- 
 
v ^ c' EUGENIA. 17 
 
 fortable though vague perception of the unpleasant possi- 
 bility of a peculiar personal equation " that might by 
 some mischance be swaying her taste eccentrically in the 
 matter." 
 
 Out in the grounds later he began to fear that there 
 was not much to amuse her, that she must often find it 
 very dull in this benighted country place, whereupon she 
 made big eyes of astonishment at him, and ejaculating 
 " dull ! " glanced comprehensively at the surrounding 
 wonders of sky, and sea, and shore, then addded, " where 
 can dulness come into a life like mine?" 
 
 The question nonplussed him for the moment. To be 
 so unsophisticated as not even to have the slightest con- 
 ception of the better life which includes shopping in 
 London and the full swing of everything there in the 
 season, was a little too much. " But," as he remarked to 
 me afterwards, " all this enhances the charm, don't you 
 know ; it's so fresh, and it will be fun to see how her 
 views change as her mind is enlarged by intercourse with 
 the world, and to hear what she thinks by-and-by of this 
 rural retreat." 
 
 " But do you suppose she has any mind?" I ventured. 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes," he answered. " Quite enough for a 
 woman, especially if she's to be one's wife. A clever 
 woman is apt to have ' views ' and that sort of thing, and 
 lead a man a dance generally. What one wants in a 
 wife is something nice to look at and agreeable to caress 
 when one's in the mood, with average intelligence of 
 course, but conventional ideas." 
 
 " Are you going to have anybody down for the shoot- 
 ing?" 
 
18 EUGENIA. 
 
 " Well, I don't know," he answered. " That was my 
 idea at first. But my primary motive was to get away 
 from everybody and recruit. I told you in town. I've 
 had too good a time, and I'm quite used up. My nerve's 
 gone to that extent that I'm afraid to fire my own gun if 
 I think about it. It w^ould certainly be better for me to 
 settle, and the more I see of the place the more I like it. 
 The air's delicious, and suits me too. I'm beginning to 
 revive already." 
 
 He had just come in from " potting " rabbits, and we 
 were sitting on a seat in the garden, he nursing his gun, 
 when he said this, and after he had spoken he reflected a 
 little, then added : " It would suit me down to the ground 
 to have this quiet retreat and Eugenia to come to when- 
 ever I felt played out, as I am now." 
 
 " Then you've abandoned the idea of making a society 
 woman of her ? " 
 
 " Oh, not at all. But I should require her to be here 
 when I'm otherwise engaged, and can't look after her, 
 don't you know." 
 
 I admired his foresight, it being evident that he was 
 preparing, with playful toleration of his own weakness, to 
 be tempted back now and then to gloat on Sylvia's super- 
 abundant flesh, and at the same time was thinking how 
 refreshing it would be, when that kind of thing palled 
 upon him, to return to the rarefied atmosphere which 
 surrounded the lily of love whom he was also anxious to 
 secure. 
 
EUGENIA. 19 
 
 V. 
 
 Their acquaintance rapidly ripened into intimacy, and 
 very soon I perceived that they had adopted that tone of 
 light banter which enables young people to say so much 
 to each other. The playful controversy turned for the 
 most part on the relative merits of town and country, 
 and the brilliancy and wit of society compared with the 
 petty concerns which Brinkhampton held to be all there 
 was to discuss in a neighbourhood like this. 
 
 " I am sure," he maintained, " you would like to hear 
 people talk cleverly." 
 
 " I would much rather hear them talk kindly," she 
 answered. 
 
 She was always ready with some such response, but he 
 soon flattered himself that her perversity was a coquettish 
 assumption to pique him, and would try to provoke her 
 in return by assuring her that she would know better 
 when she was older. 
 
 The brightness which I had noticed on the first even- 
 ing of the coming of the young man into Eugenia's quiet 
 life did not diminish, but on the contrary increased if 
 anything with the ripening of their acquaintance. Her 
 nature was naturally joyous, and under Brinkhampton's 
 influence her manner, while losing none of its dignified 
 simplicity, became more girlishly playful, which was a 
 distinct improvement, for until now she had been apt to 
 display a too great earnestness for her age. Nothing in 
 her attitude, however, gave me the slightest clue to her 
 feelings for him. I did not know in the least whether 
 she had ever thought of him as a possible lover or not. 
 
20 EUGENIA. 
 
 With him it was quite different. He talked of her in- 
 cessantly, and of what he called his " love " for her. He 
 even got so far as to consider the settlements, and if there 
 would be ready money enough in hand at the time of the 
 marriage to pay off his innumerable debts and start them 
 clear, because it would be a pity to have to sell out any- 
 thing, don't you know. The " love " and the lucre long- 
 ings mixed in his conversation in curiously exact propor- 
 tions, but still the frank boyishness of it all was taking. 
 
 It was hot harvest weather ; radiant mornings turning 
 to turquoise and pearl-grey noons, and always exquisite 
 amethyst seas — an ideal love-time, and it would have been 
 strange if it had failed altogether of its effect upon two 
 young people so thrown together. The first positive sign 
 of serious feeling I detected in Brinkhampton was an im- 
 provement in his habits. On Sunday morning he had 
 breakfasted between ten and eleven, on Wednesday he was 
 up at seven o'clock. Eugenia and I were just starting for 
 the meadows with baskets to gather mushrooms for break- 
 fast when he appeared. He volunteered to accompany us, 
 and wanted to carry our baskets, but Eugenia said that 
 would only be robbing us of our occupation, and suggested 
 that he should have one of his own. 
 
 We straggled down the road after each other. The 
 morning was deliciously fresh, and so was Eugenia. Brink- 
 hampton could not take his eyes off her, and, although 
 she never glanced at him, I knew by the smile that con- 
 stantly hovered about her mouth, the brightness of her 
 eyes, the slightly heightened colour on her delicate cheeks, 
 and the buoyancy of her step, that she was aware of his 
 earnest gaze, and animated by his admiration. They 
 
EUGENIA. 21 
 
 chatted incessantly, disagreeing generally, but it was im- 
 possible to tell whether they were pulling apart or only 
 arriving at a better understanding. There was sufficient 
 difference of opinion to read both ways, but owing to the 
 cheerful playfulness of the tone in which it was all ex- 
 pressed, it was hard to determine how much either of them 
 really meant. 
 
 Cock pheasants crowed in the coverts as we passed, 
 rabbits ran nimbly out of the way. We crossed a limpid 
 trout stream in a little wood, and, coming out into the 
 open ground again, found ourselves on the edge of the 
 cliff in full view of the sun-smitten sea. The many-mur- 
 murous voice of ocean was in our ears, the vital breath of 
 it upon our cheeks. Eugenia, standing on the brink with 
 longing eyes, looked out first over the moving waters into 
 the morning mist where the sea-birds revel, then turned 
 to Brinkhampton brightly, and asked : " Did you ever see 
 anything like this in Bond Street ? " 
 
 Brinkhampton sighed sentimentally, but wisely held 
 his peace. 
 
 It was a high cliff upon which we were standing, and 
 there was a narrow precipitous winding path, cut out of 
 the chalk and very dangerous-looking, running down to 
 the beach. 
 
 " Let us go back by the sands," Eugenia exclaimed, 
 our baskets being full by this time, and away she went, 
 nimbly as a goat, I following without a thought. At the 
 bottom we looked back, and discovered Brinkhampton at 
 one of the bends about half-way down leaning against the 
 cliff — I had almost said clinging to it. 
 
 " Anything the matter ? " Eugenia cried. 
 
22 EUGENIA. 
 
 " I'm stuck," he answered. 
 
 " How thoughtless of me," I exclaimed, and ran back 
 to help him. He was pale, and clutched my hand eagerly 
 when I ollered it to him. 
 
 " You see I have not exaggerated," he said, dejectedly. 
 " I've no nerve left for anything. I'm used up. It's high 
 time I settled." 
 
 My hand, however, and also perhaps the now familiar 
 formula, helped to restore his confidence, and we got down 
 together pretty creditably. I could see that Brinkhamp- 
 ton expected some sympathy for his giddiness, but Eugenia 
 was throwing stones into the water unconcernedly when 
 we rejoined her, and went on without a word as if noth- 
 ing had happened. Near the house a tall good-looking 
 young man of distinguished appearance met us. 
 
 " There's Saxon," Eugenia exclaimed when he came in 
 sight, and greeted him familiarly, but did not introduce 
 him to Brinkhampton. 
 
 I knew him of old, and asked him why he had not 
 been to see me. 
 
 " We have had to make the most of this harvest weath- 
 er," he answered. " But I shall be able to call soon now, 
 I hope, if I may." 
 
 " Yes, do come, Saxon," Eugenia exclaimed. " There 
 are ever so many things I want to consult you about." 
 
 " Who was that ? " Brinkhampton asked afterwards. 
 
 " Saxon Wake, a friend of my youth," Eugenia an- 
 swered lightly. " His people have been here as long as 
 we have. They were Yeoman farmers, but now they own 
 a part of what were our estates." 
 
 " The yokel has passable manners," Brinkhampton 
 
EUGENIA. 23 
 
 said, patronisingly. " I suppose he picks up a little veneer 
 at race-meetings and hunt-breakfasts." 
 
 " The yokel was a wrangler of his year," Eugenia an- 
 swered icily. 
 
 Brinkhampton said no more, lie had not taken any 
 degree himself. 
 
 VI. 
 
 We had a private letter-bag at the hall which was 
 brought in for Eugenia to unlock every morning, and she 
 usually distributed the letters herself. That day she took 
 out one amons: others that instantlv filled the room with 
 some strong scent of which it was reeking. " Ugh ! " she 
 exclaimed ; " after the open air, how coarse this is. Who 
 can it be for ? You," — to Brinkhampton. " It savours 
 of ' Society ' to me, — ' the thick of life,' — ' excitement ! ' 
 but my rustic nose is unequal to the demands of such an 
 assault. Please take it ! " 
 
 Brinkhampton glanced at the superscription as she 
 handed him the note, and his countenance expressed 
 " Faugh ! " as clearly as a countenance can speak. He 
 was about to put the note in his pocket, but changed his 
 mind, and laid it beside his plate. It had occurred to him 
 that he might draw suggestions of the mysterious " fuller " 
 life of a man from it with which to enhance his j^^'^stige 
 with this little country girl. 
 
 " It is from Sylvia," he observed. 
 
 "The burlesque actress?" Eugenia asked. "I sup- 
 pose you know numbers of people of that kind." 
 
 He smiled complacently. 
 
24: EUGENIA. 
 
 " You must find it very different being here with us," 
 she remarked. 
 
 " Of course it is a change," he confessed. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, thoughtfully. " But I wonder 
 you can endure it, even for a change." 
 
 " Oh, one would endure a good deal for the sake of 
 some people," he blundered. 
 
 I noticed that the shooting claimed less and less of his 
 attention. He did not even make a pretence of going out 
 to-day, and Eugenia herself had scarcely paid a visit, or 
 had anyone at the house since his arrival. The young 
 man, set in sunshine with an accompaniment of lovely 
 languid autumn weather, had sufficed so far for an absorb- 
 ing interest, but now at last as we loitered in the dining- 
 room after lunch she raised that question of What shall 
 we do ? which usually implies the palling of an old pleas- 
 ure and a desire for something new. 
 
 She was sitting on the sill of one of the wide-open 
 windows with her feet on the deep-cushioned windows- 
 seat, and as she spoke there was a sound of horse's feet 
 spattering through the gravel below. 
 
 " Here's Saxon ! " she * exclaimed with animation. 
 " Saxon, I'm delighted to see you. ^Ye want something 
 to do this afternoon. Come and consult." 
 
 " Why not have out the coach, drive to Greenwood 
 Sound, send the saddle-horses by the short cut across the 
 fields to wait for you there, and race the tide home round 
 Towindard Head," Saxon rejoined from below. " The 
 tide will be just right for the ride if you get off in half an 
 hour." 
 
 " Excellent ! " Eugenia exclaimed. " But 3'ou must 
 
EUGENIA. 25 
 
 come with us, Saxon. One gentleman is not enough for 
 two ladies, and Lord Brinkhampton docs not know the 
 coast. Do ride round to the stables and order the coach 
 and despatch Gould with the horses while we are putting 
 on our habits. Come, boot and spur, my lord," she called 
 to Brinkhampton as she dragged me from the room. 
 
 " He doesn't look very gracious about it," she said, as 
 we ran upstairs together, " and I expect he'll take an hour 
 to adorn himself. I suppose I shall be obliged to let him 
 drive. Saxon won't, I know. But I do wonder what 
 kind of a whip he is. If he can't drive, however, he 
 shan't pretend to, for I don't believe true womanliness 
 consists in letting a man do badly what a woman can do 
 well, simply because men generally are more accustomed 
 to perform that particular exercise than women are. But 
 let us hope he has forgotten to provide himself with the 
 last thing in driving gloves. lie would never use any- 
 thing already out of date by a season." 
 
 This last little sarcasm, although playfully uttered, 
 sounded significant, but if Brinkhampton had gone down 
 in her estimation for any reason, he rose again when it 
 came to offering him the reins, by the frank way in which 
 he acknowledged he was no whip, and had never been 
 able to handle a team in his life. 
 
 Contrary to our expectation, he was waiting for us in 
 the porch when we went down, and was also, wonderful 
 to relate, amicably discussing the points of the horses 
 with Saxon. It was a smart turn-out, and doubtless the 
 possession of it, by adding an important item to other evi- 
 dences of Eugenia's many material attractions, had im- 
 proved his humour. .^ 
 
 \ VNIVER8(TY 
 
26 EUGENIA. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Brixkhamptox sat beside Eugenia on the front seat, 
 Saxon and I were behind them, and at the back were 
 Baldwin, the old family coachman, and a groom with the 
 coach-horn. The horses, dark glossy bays with black 
 points, were mettlesome beasts. They danced down the 
 drive as if unaware of the slight encumbrance of the coach 
 and its load behind them. It was a wonderful thing to 
 see Eugenia, a slender girl, almost standing against her 
 high seat with her feet planted firmly in front of her, 
 controlling the four great prancing creatures without 
 apparent effort. One could not help calculating what 
 the nerve-power must be behind such ease, and what the 
 strength of the sinews which were masked by her " ivory 
 skin." She never looked better than on that occasion. 
 Her riding habit, clinging close, showed the perfection of 
 her figure. The sun was still hot, and she w^ore, slightly 
 tilted back, a low-crowned white sailor hat, the roundness 
 of which set off the delicate oval of her cheeks. Her ripe 
 red lips were slightly parted in a smile showing the white 
 teeth between, her eyes danced in liquid light ; one could 
 trace the course of the blue veins beneath the transparent 
 skin, and the fresh air and exertion had brought a bril- 
 liant colour to her cheeks. But for those with the inner 
 eyes that see beneath the surface, there w^as more about 
 her to attract than mere good looks and the ineffable 
 charm of youth. There shone in her face the happy 
 spirit that makes much of the smallest joy in life, and 
 sees in the most obvious admiration of her friends only 
 an evidence of their own good dispositions. There is 
 
EUGENIA. 27 
 
 more beauty than character as a rule in the delicate curves 
 and lineless smootliness of a young girl's face ; but still, 
 in studying Eugenia, one felt that, for all her soft voice 
 and gentle courteous bearing, she was not a person to be 
 trifled with. There are natures which may be taught but 
 must not be dictated to, and hers was one of those. 
 
 She was, in fact, essentially a modern maiden, richly 
 endowed with all womanly attributes, whose value is fur- 
 ther enhanced by the strength w^hich comes of the liberty 
 to think, and of the education out of which is made the 
 material for thought. With such women for the mothers 
 of men, the English-speaking races should rule the world. 
 
 As he watched her, Brinkhampton's petty disdain of 
 Saxon the yeoman sank into the background of his con- 
 sciousness. One could see his countenance expand until 
 he looked superlatively happy, as his delight in her love- 
 liness gained upon him. 
 
 And Saxon, sitting beside me with his arms folded, 
 thoughtfully watched her too, but there was a somewhat 
 sad expression on his handsome face. They had been 
 playfellows, but still he saw in Brinkhampton only what 
 was appropriate to her station in the way of a suitor, and 
 there was no bitterness in him. It was what he had all 
 along prepared himself to be resigned to eventually. 
 Brinkhampton himself was not so proudly conscious of 
 the difference of position as Saxon was ; but Brinkhamp- 
 ton was accustomed to consider only his own interests in 
 regard to women, and naturally assumed that Saxon was 
 equally inferior. 
 
 It was ten miles from Towindard Hall to Greenwood 
 Sound, but the horses seemed to have covered the ground 
 
23 EUGENIA. 
 
 in no time, for it was still early in the afternoon when we 
 halted in a shady lane between the river on our left, seen 
 through a frame of foliage, and a high bank on our right, 
 a green bank dotted with clumps of fern, and crowned 
 with trees, beneath which sheep were quietly browsing. 
 No one would have suspected that we were in the near 
 neighbourhood of the treacherous ocean and a dangerous 
 shore. There was a deep glow as of approaching sunset 
 upon the placid river, a babble of birds in the trees 
 above us, and somewhere unseen, a cock crowed cheerily 
 at intervals. The horses, only refreshed apparently by 
 their ten miles' scamper, pawed the ground impatiently, 
 tossed their heads till the harness jingled, and recognising 
 their stable companions who were already awaiting us un- 
 der the trees with their saddles on, saluted them with 
 loud neighs joyously. 
 
 " We must make tea here, there is plenty of time," said 
 Saxon, as he clambered down. 
 
 " Oh, how delightful ! " Eugenia exclaimed. " I forgot 
 all about tea. You always remember everything, Saxon." 
 
 She threw down the reins. 
 
 " Come," she said to Brinkhampton, " come and collect 
 sticks." 
 
 Brinkhampton went of necessity, but he was not one of 
 those men who readily adapt themselves to any position, 
 and as he picked up the sticks his whole attitude was 
 awkwardly condescending, and he evidently did not agree 
 when Eugenia contended that it was half the fun on these 
 expeditions to do all that kind of thing for one's self. I 
 saw that she observed how he picked up the sticks by 
 their dryest ends, and held them away from him daintily ; 
 
EUGENIA. 29 
 
 but her countenance remained unruffled, and I could not 
 tell if she saw anything ludicrous in such extreme fastidi- 
 ousness. Stooping made Brink hampton red in the face, 
 and giddy, and he had to stop frequently to recover him- 
 self, and always when he did so, he looked about him 
 haughtily as if he were asking nature to be so good as to 
 observe that a Peer of the Realm was picking up sticks. 
 
 We soon had a big fire blazing in the shade, and while 
 we were waiting for the kettle to boil, we lolled about on 
 cushions taken from the coach, and by degrees were gained 
 upon by the enchanting day, the heavenly quiet, and the 
 associations of the place, so that insensibly our modern 
 mood slipped from us, the charm of ancient days was on 
 us, and we found ourselves a prey to thoughts of that 
 which is not seen or known, but only felt. 
 
 " Is this Greenwood Sound ? " Brinkhampton said 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Yes," Eugenia answered, "and when I am here I am 
 alwa3^s overpowered with a strange feeling of remoteness. 
 It is as if my kindred claimed me — not as if they came to 
 me here, but as if they took me to themselves — to their 
 own times. This is a spot which has been specially sanc- 
 tified by the sins of my ancestors.'* 
 
 Brinkhampton asked her if she were superstitious. 
 
 " I don't know," she answered, in a surprised tone. " I 
 never thought about it." Then she reflected a little. 
 "But certainly," she added, "no son of the house has ever 
 succeeded." 
 
 "Are these church lands then?" Brinkhampton asked. 
 
 " No, the tradition is older than that," she said. " By 
 the way, isn't it evident they worshipped the Evil One of 
 
30 EUGENIA. 
 
 old ? Their cursings were so effectual, while their bless- 
 ings were of such small avail. But, Saxon, tell the tale. 
 You know it best." 
 
 " The country folks hereabouts preserve it in ballads," 
 he answered unaffectedly. " They give the vague date of 
 hundreds of years ago, when Towindard Hall was a castle 
 owned by a miserly old earl. He was a direct ancestor of 
 yours, as you know, and he had an only daughter whom 
 he meant to barter for gold to the highest bidder when 
 she should be old enough to marry. She was a girl of 
 magnificent physique, with a spirit as fine as her form and 
 features, and moreover she was dowered, says the legend, 
 with caution, and the gift of silence, so that, when at last 
 her father ordered her to prepare to marry a man she had 
 hardly seen, and was not prepossessed by, she held her 
 peace instead of raising useless objections, and waited un- 
 til she should know more of him. It does not say that 
 she ever really disliked him, but at that time a man had 
 to have as much physical courage as he has nowadays to 
 have moral courage to recommend 'him to a girl " 
 
 "A man must have both," Eugenia put in, decidedly. 
 
 " Well, at any rate," Saxon pursued, " from what your 
 ancestress saw of Lord Willoughby, her suitor, before they 
 were married, she shrewdly suspected that he was a cow- 
 ard, * unmeet with me to wed,' as the ballad says ; but 
 there was no getting out of the match, she being her 
 father's chattel and entirely at his disposal. She deter- 
 mined, however, that before she settled down for life with 
 the man, she would test his courage just to see who should 
 be master; so she stipulated that on their wedding-day, he 
 should let her drive him from Greenwood Sound (where 
 
EUGENIA. 31 
 
 we are now), to Willougliby Chase (his place), by Towiii- 
 dard Head. He refused her nothing, the ballad says : 
 
 " The day broke cloudy, the wind was high, 
 The storm-clouds fought in a murky bky, 
 The wild waves whitened the sands with scud, 
 The sunset brightened the sky with blood. 
 O wild ! wild ! Ah, well-a-day ! 
 Does the bridegroom note that the bride is gay? 
 
 " The chariot stood at the castle door. 
 The hinds were holding the horses four, 
 The storm wind tosses the horses' manes, 
 The bride has gathered the fluttering reins. 
 O wild ! wild ! Ah, well-a-day ! 
 Does the bridegroom note that the bride is gayf 
 
 " From Greenwood Sound to Willoughby Chase, 
 By Towindard Head in a chariot race, 
 Four horses racing the rising tide, 
 A white-faced bridegroom, a desp'rate bride. 
 O wild ! wild ! Ah, well-a-day ! 
 For the gale blows fierce in Towindard Bay. 
 
 " ' Now, good, my lord, though art pledged to race, 
 From Greenwood Sound to Willoughby Chase, 
 To race the tide round Towindard Head, 
 But methinks thou art frighted, my lord,' she said. 
 O wild ! O wild ! Ah, well-a-day ! 
 * Crouch down on your knees at my feet and pray.' 
 
 " At Willoughby Chase there was dole that night. 
 The bride has arrived all scared and white. 
 And the four bhick steeds have reached the shore. 
 But the bridegroom cometh again no more. 
 wild ! wild ! Ah, well-a-day ! 
 Lord Willoughby sleeps in Towindard Bay." 
 
32 EUGENIA. 
 
 " Slie had drowned him then," Brinkhampton ex- 
 chiimed. 
 
 " So it was eventually supposed," Eugenia answered 
 easily. It is customary to assume a modest tone with re- 
 gard to the crimes committed by our remote ancestors, 
 and not to boast about them on account of their misdeeds, 
 however narrowly they may have escaped hanging, and 
 Eugenia always alluded to this one in the most becoming- 
 ly casual manner. " She was not suspected of having 
 done so at first, however," she pursued. "It was believed 
 to have been an accident, and so it may have been, for my 
 greatest great-grandmother was evidently one of those 
 people of strongly marked character and independent 
 habits, around whose names all kinds of stories collect by 
 degrees, until at last there are so many that they must 
 have done something notable on every day of their lives 
 in order to accomplish such an amount. By Lord Wil- 
 loughby's death she became mistress of Willoughby Chase, 
 and as she inherited Towindard also, she was in a power- 
 ful position for the times. She married again and be- 
 came my ancestress, but of her second husband, my an- 
 cestor, nothing is known except that there was such a 
 person. He was apparently one of those people who 
 don't count." 
 
 " And is that all ? " said Brinkhampton. 
 
 " No," Eugenia answered, " the most important part 
 is 3'et to come. According to the story, everything suc- 
 ceeded with my remarkable ancestress during her life, but 
 on her death-bed she was seen to be in sore distress of 
 mind, and at last she sent for a priest, but exactly what 
 she confessed to him was never revealed, only it was ob- 
 
EUGENIA. 33 
 
 served that, when he left her, his eyes were wild and his 
 cheeks were pale. And it is known that he had laid what 
 he thought to be a curse on one daughter of the family in 
 every generation. A celibate priest naturally did not un- 
 derstand women ; he thought property and power would 
 be a bane to us, so he condemned one of us to inherit the 
 estates always, until such time as we should discover how 
 to remove the curse ! " 
 
 " And you have not done so yet? " Brinkhampton said. 
 
 " Nobody has ever tried that I know of," Eugenia an- 
 swered naively. " It's rather hard on the boys, but if it 
 had not been for the curse, there probably would not have 
 been any property by this time." 
 
 " Churchman's justice is peculiar," I interjected. " I 
 can't see upon what principle the unoffending innocents 
 were condemned to death." 
 
 " But there was some sense in the penance which the 
 priest prescribed for your ancestress," Saxon pursued. 
 " He condemned her to drive her wild black horses 
 against the rising tide with her cowering bridegroom 
 crouching at her feet forever, or until such time as her 
 troubled spirit should be released by one of her descend- 
 ants — 
 
 "And so for evermore 
 
 Along the shore 
 She hears the swift wild surges roar, 
 
 For evermore slie urges 
 Hot headstrong steeds to brave the roaring surges. 
 
 With tightened traces 
 
 Full speed she races — 
 
 And those wlio ride 
 Shall hear their thund'ring rush against the rising tide." 
 
S4: EUGENIA. 
 
 " But has anyone ever heard them ? " Briukhampton 
 objected. 
 
 " We all have," I answered, whereupon he looked 
 mystified, because he did not consider me superstitious — 
 nor was he, oh dear no, not a bit ! 
 
 This broke the spell. The tea was ready, and tea with 
 cream and cakes and ravenous appetites brought us back 
 incontinently to the most sceptical mood of our own day. 
 
 " But what exactly are we going to do ? " Briukhamp- 
 ton asked. 
 
 " Oh, just race the tide round Towindard Head," 
 Eugenia answered casually. " If we are there first we 
 shall get round easily, and find ourselves near home, but 
 if the sea is before ns, it complicates matters. What 
 about the weather, Baldwin ? Here in the hollow it seems 
 to be perfectly stagnant." 
 
 The old man looked up at the sky, and then out over 
 the river through the gap in the greenery which formed 
 a frame for the shining sluggish water. 
 
 " There'll be no sea on to-day, missie," he answered 
 deliberately. 
 
 " You're coming with us?" said Eugenia. 
 
 " Ah'm certainly comin' wi' you, missie," he answered 
 decidedly. 
 
 The servants had had their tea by this time, and were 
 preparing to take back the coach. 
 
 We mounted our horses. 
 
 " I suppose you can calculate the state of the tide 
 pretty accurately," Briukhampton remarked as he settled 
 Eugenia in her saddle. I might have been mistaken, but 
 I thought I detected a shade of anxiety in his voice. 
 
EUGENIA. 35 
 
 " No, that is the difficulty," Eugenia replied. " The 
 weather affects it. Sometimes it is a rushing race-horse, 
 white-crested and impetuous, and sometimes it is a crawl- 
 ing snake, equally swift, you know, but insidious. You 
 are caught before you suspect there is danger." 
 
 " I suppose you love the sea," he rejoined, in a tone 
 which affected to be as casual as her own. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " and I also loathe it. I look 
 upon it as a treacherous enemy to be outwitted, and dote 
 upon its changeful beauty all the same." 
 
 AVe were off now, down the winding lane. The green 
 bank was behind us, grey sand-dunes were on either side, 
 ahead was the desolate wide waste of shore, and far out, 
 under a low and leaden sky, little bright sapphire wave- 
 lets, scarcely flecked with foam, crisped and broke with 
 baby impotence upon the sand. The scene was solemn in 
 its dreariness, but not depressing. Some suggestions of 
 boundless space are more elevating than the mountains. 
 Away to our right the flat shore shot up suddenly into 
 precipitous cliffs, and these, curving out with a fine sweep 
 seawards, resulted abruptly in the towering promontory 
 which it was our object to ride round. But between us 
 and it there were miles of desolation. 
 
 Our horses were now being tried by the ruts of the 
 heavy cart track which formed the only road across the 
 sand-dunes. 
 
 " This is slow going," said Eugenia, " but I warn you 
 they will pull like mad the moment we are on firm sand ; 
 so sit tight." 
 
 The w^arning was not unnecessary. A few more strug- 
 gles, then suddenly their feet were free of the heaviness, 
 
36 EUGENIA. 
 
 and, feeling the resistance of the firm sand, they plunged 
 about excitedly, and then set off in a frantic gallop — pit- 
 apat, pitapat, pitapat, the hoofs beat rhythmically. We 
 were well away now, with the sea on our left, the land 
 on our right, and on in front, looming gigantic through 
 the haze, Towindard Head — 
 
 " Onward and northward fierce and fleet, 
 
 As if life and death were in it ! 
 
 'Tis a glorious race, a race against time, 
 
 A thousand to one we win it." 
 
 The sea-sweet air was wildly exhilarating. Even the 
 horses seemed seized upon by the gladness there is in 
 rapid motion and in windswept spaces. Every face was 
 eager now. I felt I should shout aloud upon the slightest 
 provocation — 
 
 " This ride was ray delight. I love all waste 
 And solitary places ; where we taste 
 The pleasure of believing what we see 
 Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be : 
 And such was this wild ocean, and this shore 
 More barren than its billows." 
 
 Our gallop was checked by a sudden wild commotion. 
 I was aware of old Baldwin shouting something, of Saxon 
 spurring on ahead of me, of Brinkhampton's horse floun- 
 dering, of a scared look on his face, of Eugenia catching 
 his reins, giving her own horse its head, and swinging her 
 heavy whip with sounding slashes. The horses responded 
 gallantly, plunging and straining. I don't know if we all 
 shouted encouragement, but it seemed only an instant till 
 the incident was over, and we were off again, tearing along 
 
EUGENIA. 37 
 
 in a body, having swerved inland considerably. When the 
 pace relaxed, Brinkhampton wiped his forehead. " What 
 was it ? " he asked. 
 
 " The outer edge of the quicksand," Eugenia answered. 
 " It shifts. The last time it was here where we are now, 
 and I thought we were giving it a wide berth to-day. 
 Forgive me for touching your reins. There was sucli a 
 racket, I despaired of making you hear, and you were 
 pulling right into it. Look at the horses, poor brutes, 
 how terrified they are? It would be humane to pull 
 them up for a breathing space — " she looked on ahead, 
 then added significantly, " if there were time.'''' 
 
 So far we had been keeping a middle course between 
 the sea and shore, but now we began to bear down towards 
 the water. The horses glanced suspiciously this way and 
 that, ready to shy or swerve on tlie least occasion. They 
 kept their ears pricked too, or laid them back in a nerv- 
 ous way, and were foaming at their mouths ; and every 
 now and then they broke out of the steady canter at 
 which we were endeavouring to keep them in order to 
 save them for a big spurt, if necessary, towards the end 
 of the race, into a gallop which would soon have become 
 a wild stampede had we not held them well in hand. 
 But in the midst of these efforts, whilst I was altogether 
 intent upon them, and without the slightest warning, my 
 horse made an awkward stumble, which sent me grace- 
 fully circling from my saddle to a safer seat on the sand. 
 Old Baldwin, seeing what was coming, had roared : " Look 
 out ! " but not in time to save me. 
 
 Brinkhampton, being on in front, did not see what 
 had happened, and his shattered nerves, shaken already 
 
38 EUGENIA. 
 
 by horror of the quicksand, betrayed him. Tlie moment 
 he heard the shout, without waiting to see what was 
 wrong, he let his horse go, and galloped on some distance, 
 leaving us to our fate. 
 
 " 'is ludship 'e doan't like yer wdckstands an' yer 
 gliosteses," old Baldwin chuckled, as he picked me up. 
 
 But Brinkhampton had discovered his mistake by this 
 time, and was cantering back to us with a deprecating 
 look on his face like that of a diffident schoolboy who 
 finds he has done the wrong thing and is covered with 
 confusion. The expression suited him, and, being a 
 splendid horseman, he looked so handsome as he ap- 
 proached Eugenia, that I thought with a qualm : " She 
 will pity him." 
 
 " My horse is very nervous," he said, apologetically. 
 
 She glanced down at the horse's feet, and then looked 
 straight before her without a word, her air of calm in- 
 difference being exactly the same as she had worn when 
 Brinkhampton and I joined her after he had been stuck 
 on the cliff, and found her watching the stones she was 
 throwing make ducks and drakes on the water. On this 
 occasion her demeanour so disconcerted Brinkhampton 
 that he lost his head, and contradicted himself as soon as 
 he had spoken. . 
 
 " I thought it was a signal to double," he said to me. 
 
 *' No ; it was not a signal," I answered, " but a stone 
 which my horse apparently mistook for a bit of seaweed." 
 
 We had moved on again, and were close to the water's 
 edge by this time. The monstrous sea, oily and w^aveless, 
 crawled up in great irregular curves over the shining 
 sand. The horses kept their eyes fixed on the incoming 
 
EUGENIA. 39 
 
 stream in frightened anticipation, and leaned away from 
 it, as if ready to swerve if the horrid tiling should touch 
 them. Now and then, so insidious and imperceptible was 
 its oncoming, we found ourselves surrounded, and our 
 startled steeds strained away for the shore, prancing and 
 splashing till they churned the flint-coloured shallows 
 white with foam. A few more minutes would bring us 
 abreast of the great overhanging cliffs, and the space be- 
 tween the sea and shore was narrowing always, so that 
 presently w^e should be forced up under them. A certain 
 gravity had settled upon us, there was a look of expecta- 
 tion on our faces, and we pulled up abreast of each other 
 involuntarily, Baldwin and all. 
 
 " I confess I always feel awed," I said, with an uneasy 
 little cough, but Eugenia did not appear to hear me. She 
 was sitting straight, with her head held high, and her 
 eyes wide open, listening intently. 
 
 " Why awed? " Brinkhampton asked. 
 
 " The ghosts, my lud," old Baldwin ejaculated. 
 
 Brinkhampton looked about him with a superior smile, 
 and certainly anything more unlike a suitable setting as a 
 preparation for ghosts than this slumberous autumn after- 
 noon, with its stagnant tranquillity of sky and sea and 
 shore, could not have been arranged ; but the inappro- 
 priate is often as astounding as the unexpected. 
 
 And now suddenly in the distance, coming apparently 
 from under the cliffs, there arose a dull, muffled, thudding 
 sound. The horses noticed it as soon as we did, and 
 pricked their ears enquiringly. They had been going at 
 an easy canter, but in order to gratify their curiosity they 
 relaxed their pace, and instantly the sound ceased. The 
 
40 EUGENIA. 
 
 sudden silence startled them as a noise might have done, 
 and with one accord they bounded forward, Brinkhampton 
 being nearly unseated by the njiexpected move, and in- 
 stantly the thudding recommenced, drew nearer, and 
 swelled into the nnmistakable throb of galloping hoofs on 
 sand. It was as if a troop of cavalry had charged us in 
 the rear and w^as just npon ns to ride us down. The 
 horses broke into a frantic gallop, and Brinkhampton 
 rising to it, turned his head and looked back wdth strain- 
 ing: eves, first over one shonlder and then over the other: 
 but there was nothing to be seen even when the sound 
 was just upon us, deafening us. It came with a rush, 
 touchins: us as it were, and that instant it was over. The 
 horses stared right and left, at the same time slackening 
 their pace, and we realised a strange blank as of an empty 
 space in that region of consciousness upon which the 
 thundering hoofs had sounded. 
 
 Brinkhampton was the first to speak, after gazing up 
 at the tall cliffs critically : " I suppose it is an echo," he 
 said, looking hard at us each in turn as if he expected us 
 to deny it. " And the legend was probably invented to 
 account for the echo," he added. 
 
 " But the echo does not account for the failure of heirs 
 male in my famil}^," Eugenia objected drily. 
 
 From this point on, however, there was no time for talk. 
 
 " If we're to get round Towindard 'ead we mun ride, 
 missie," old Baldwin decided. 
 
 " And if we don't get round?" Brinkhampton asked. 
 
 " We must climb the cliff or take our chance with the 
 horses," Eugenia answered quietly. " Baldwin, we lead," 
 she said, and the old man rode on with her on the off- 
 
^^'V^^ 
 
 \ c. or EUGENIA. 41 
 
 side, beaming. Eugenia on the alert, with flushed cheeks 
 and sparkling eyes, her excitement well-contained beneath 
 a steady calm exterior, was lovely to behold in her youth 
 and strength as she passed on in front, and set the pace. 
 It was racing speed now, going against the tide full-tilt. 
 We could measure the rate at which we were going by the 
 lumbering look of the sea-bird's flight above us — 
 
 " 'Tis a glorious race, a race against time, 
 A thousand to one we win it ? " 
 
 The keen salt air through which we were rushing, meet- 
 ing us full in the face, had freshened us at first, but now all 
 at once I became aware of a change in it, and quite sud- 
 denly, as it seemed to me, the sea-voice sounded muffled. 
 The change in the air was from dry to damp. The gauze 
 veil on my hat was dripping. I looked up to see how far 
 we "were from the headland. The headland had disap- 
 peared — no, though, that must be it up in the air yonder, 
 up above us in the clouds — no, again. I could see now. 
 I understood. As the tide flowed in, moisture rose to the 
 surface of the sand, making the whole wide expanse into 
 a mirror, and it had seemed at the first glance as if the 
 sky had come down to look at its own reflection in this; 
 but what had deceived me was a light white curtain of 
 mist, drawn up by the heat till it was caught in a cold 
 current of air \vhich condensed it into a fog that was rap- 
 idly gathering density and would 2)resently envelop us. I 
 was behind Eugenia, but could see by her attitude that 
 she also was peering into the distance intently, and she 
 raised her heavy whip and held it suspended over her 
 horse's flank. 
 
42 EUGENIA. 
 
 Baldwin was standing up in liis stirrups and keeping 
 his sliarp old eyes about him. " Stick to the sea, missie," 
 he commanded in his hoarse voice, " stick to the sea for 
 your life." 
 
 We met the mist and plunged into it. There was no 
 fancy work about the horses' paces now. They had 
 buckled-to in spber earnest, with ears laid back and heads 
 stretched out, and anxious eyes that no longer glanced 
 askance at the treacherous water but strained on into the 
 mist as intelligently as our own. It was the snake-sea to- 
 day, swift but deceptive. The fog had gained on the 
 headland by this time ; the nearer we approached the less 
 we saw of it. 
 
 " For your life, missie, for your life," old Baldwin kept 
 muttering mechanically, and the hoarse growl mingled 
 with the mighty murmur of ocean appropriately : " For 
 your life, missie, for your life." 
 
 We were well-mounted, but it had been a long spin 
 and some of it was heavy going, and now the horses began 
 to flag perceptibly. Eugenia swung her whip round her 
 head and brought it down swish relentlessly. The horse 
 responded with a bound, and the others, animated by the 
 effort, followed his example. 
 
 " Surely that is the head ? " Eugenia cried. We looked 
 up simultaneously. Something certainly loomed black 
 above us. 
 
 " Stick to the sea, missie, stick to the sea-side for your 
 life," old Baldwin roared. There were ridges of rock all 
 about here under the cliffs that would have cost us many 
 precious minutes had we come upon them. 
 
 Eugenia went boldly on, but we were late. Splash — 
 
EUGENIA. 43 
 
 helter-skelter — the horses were scattering the shallow- 
 water now and inclined to baulk ; but down came that 
 relentless whip again, right and left, we following the ex- 
 ample, and once more the mettlesome brutes responded 
 gallantly. And now there was less helter-skelter and less 
 splash. The leaders were up to their knees. Were we 
 silent? Were we shouting? That last wave washed up 
 to our girths. That last wave was a seventh wave. Count 
 six more slowly. Supposing they are taken off their feet 
 by the next, could they swim with us ? Brinkhampton's 
 horse staggered on the slippery bottom which was stony 
 here, mine slipped too — ugh ! what a sickening sensation ! 
 now he went down, and the water came up cold about me. 
 Ugh, again — splutter ! what a ducking ! 
 
 Silence had settled upon us — tlie panting silence of 
 suspense. It was touch and go whether the horses would 
 be washed away or not. All at once, however, I noticed a 
 change in the tenseness of Eugenia's attitude. Surely 
 she is bearing away to the right — she is out of the water 
 — we are following — we are splashing through shallows 
 again — are ceasing to splash. The horses find firm foot- 
 ing and start away of their own accord for a final spurt of 
 relief. We are out of the fog, and there is the coach wait- 
 ing for us. Eugenia pulled up, threw her reins on her 
 horse's neck, dismounted, and stood, smiling and satisfied, 
 but wet through. 
 
 " We shall catch our death of cold if we have far to go 
 in these clothes," Brinkhampton exclaimed, impatient of 
 this discomfort. 
 
 " Pooh ! salt water will do you no harm," Eugenia re- 
 joined. 
 
 4 
 
44 EUGENIA. 
 
 " That was a near iin, missie," old Baldwin observed. 
 " All thowt it were all oop wi' us twicest." 
 
 " It was one of our best, I think," Eugenia answered, 
 " and I was agreeably surprised, for I was afraid it was 
 going to be tame." She was all animation, and when we 
 had taken our seats on the coach in the same order as be- 
 fore, she addressed Brinkhampton in the bantering tone 
 they used to each other as a rule : " Now tell me," she 
 said, " after this, do you still pretend to offer me in ex- 
 change the vitiated air of your great wicked city, and the 
 modest pleasure of a ride in the How, or of being driven 
 on a coach by way of squalid Hammersmith and preten- 
 tious Chiswick to eat without appetite at a tawdry hotel 
 in Kichmond ? " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The next morning, early, I was writing in my room 
 upstairs with the windows wide open, when I suddenly 
 became aware of an altercation between Eugenia and 
 Brinkhampton on the lawn below. 
 
 They went off together, however, with every evidence 
 of cordial agreement between them ; so much so, indeed, 
 that I sat on the window-sill long after they had crossed 
 the lawn and disappeared among the trees, once more 
 weighing the probabilities, and wondering if she would 
 accept him. 
 
 When they returned together to lunch, I could see 
 that something had happened, but as they were both 
 flushed and both looked discomfited, I fancied there had 
 only been a rather more serious dispute than usual. 
 
EUGENIA. 
 
 45 
 
 Directly lunch was over, however, Brinkhampton an- 
 nounced that he was going to order his man to pack. 
 
 " Are you ot^ then V " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, I'm off," he answered doggedly. 
 
 *' Now why should you go ? " Eugenia exclaimed. 
 
 " I can only stay here on one condition," he said with 
 severity. 
 
 " Well, that is the only condition on which I can't ask 
 you to stay," she answered instantly. " But I do think 
 you are stupid to give up your shooting on that account." 
 
 " You don't appreciate my feelings," he said with a 
 hurt air. 
 
 " I hope I do," she answered. She rose from the 
 table as she spoke, brushed a crumb from the front of her 
 dress, and quietly left the room. 
 
 Then Brinkhampton looked hard and inquiringly at 
 me. '' I can't think you have prejudiced her against 
 me," he said. 
 
 " I should hojoe not," was my dry response. 
 
 "But have you said anything about me to her?" 
 
 "As much as I have said about her to you?" 
 
 " Next to nothing, that is — then how does she know ? " 
 
 " If she does know anything about you, she must have 
 arrived at it by some process of induction," I answered, 
 not able to imagine what she could know. 
 
 " Well, I think you might have warned me," he ex- 
 claimed, and then began to pace the room with agitated 
 steps. 
 
 " I am afraid I have been to blame," I retorted ironi- 
 cally. " It would doubtless have pleased you better if I 
 had told you all I know about her opinions and character, 
 
46 EUGENIA. 
 
 while carefully concealing from her all that I know about 
 yours." 
 
 " A girl has no business to have opinions of any kind, 
 she should adopt her husband's when she marries," 
 Brinkhampton ejaculated. " Nothing but mischief comes 
 of women thinking for themselves. She would have ac- 
 cepted me but for her opinions." He reflected a little 
 upon this, frowning portentously, and then broke out 
 again : " I've been regularly taken in ! I gave her the 
 credit of being a nice little English country girl, quite 
 uninformed, and here I find her old in ideas already ; and, 
 worst of all, advanced. She didn't tell me coarsely in so 
 many words to my face that I'm not good enough for her, 
 but, by Jove ! that is what she meant. She says she 
 always thinks of me as a sort of man out of a novel by 
 Ouida. What on earth have you all been doing to let her 
 read such books ? " 
 
 " It was an old uncle of hers, an ex-guardsman of 
 your own corps, by the way," I rejoined, " who first in- 
 troduced her to that kind of literature. He used to give 
 Eugenia Ouida's books as they came out, with the em- 
 phatic comment, ' She shows 'em up ! she shows 'em up !' 
 and Eugenia, after careful study of them, has drawn her 
 own conclusions." 
 
 He pondered upon this also for a little, and then re- 
 sumed : " By Jove ! I was astounded ! What do you 
 think she said to me, right out plump? ' I have no taste 
 for nursing,' she said, ' and you are so delicate.' ' Deli- 
 cate ! ' I exclaimed in astonishment. ' Well, you require 
 to begin your day on wine, you know,' she said. ' I don't 
 require it, I take it because I like it,' I said. ' Oh, then 
 
EUGENIA. 47 
 
 you are self-indulgent,' she rejoined, as quick as thought, 
 * and if you are so much so now, the weakness will grow 
 upon you to a quite dangerous extent by-and-by, and 
 gout and bad temper will be the order of the day.' She 
 said it lightly, but, by Jove ! she meant it." 
 
 " Then she has rejected you ? " 
 
 " Emphatically ! Yet she doesn't see why I shouldn't 
 stay and finish the shooting ! " 
 
 " And why not if it amuses her to have you here ? " 
 
 He looked at me in tragic disgust. " Would you have 
 me stay here simply for her amusement ? " he thundered. 
 
 " Certainly," I said. " It is merely a turning of the 
 tables. You came here simply for your own benefit, and 
 in return the least you can do is to stay if it pleases her 
 to ask you." 
 
 " You have a nice consideration, both of you, for my 
 feelings ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Your what, Brinkhampton ? " I asked, laughing. 
 
 He stood before me a moment, trying to annihilate 
 me with a look, and then stalked straight out of the room. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " So you have rejected him," I said when next I saw 
 Eugenia. 
 
 She was taken aback at first. 
 
 " So he has told you," she ejaculated. " Well, I won- 
 der if he thought I should be mean enough to betray 
 him ! I asked him to stay on simply because I didn't 
 want you to suspect that I had had to humiliate him by 
 refusing him. It is hateful to hurt people's feelings. 
 
48 EUGENIA. 
 
 Besides, as a guest, I like him, and, further, it is good for 
 that kind of man to be with ladies." 
 
 " Then you are by way of elevating his tastes if pos- 
 sible?" 
 
 " Oh, by all means. My principle is to do anything 
 honourable for that kind of man but marry him." 
 
 I was silent, and she reflected for a little, then broke 
 out again : " He said I did not appreciate his feelings, 
 but indeed I think I do — debts, difficulties, debilitated 
 nerves, and everything else that went to make up his 
 motive for marrying me. Why, when I engage a servant, 
 he has to have a character." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I think he cares for you in his own 
 way. He told me he had found his ideal in you." 
 
 " Very likely," she answered. " But before one can 
 feel flattered by such an assertion, it is necessary to know 
 what his ideal is — a nice quiet little thing, I fancy, with 
 lots of money, and no inconvenient intellectual capacity." 
 
 I could not help smiling, she had gauged him so ex- 
 actly. 
 
 " But he is not my ideal at all," she pursued. " I want 
 Sir Galahad, and Society provides me with Gawain, or 
 Lancelot at the best, when all my longing is for ' the 
 blameless king.' " 
 
 " I wonder where you will find your ideal." 
 
 " In Saxon Wake," she answered instantly. " Bit by 
 bit his family have been developing every quality in which 
 my own was deficient. For hundreds of years the two 
 have been living here side by side, ours slowly deterio- 
 rating, losing by degrees much of what they possessed, 
 his, by their virtues, as gradually acquiring what we lost. 
 
EUGENIA. 49 
 
 Compare Saxon's father with Uncle Paul, for instance ! 
 and Saxon's career with Lord Brinkhampton's ! not to 
 mention their respective abilities. Give me him for a 
 husband ! " 
 
 " Whom ? " said Saxon himself, coming round the 
 
 corner. 
 
 " You," she blurted out, turning crimson. " Why 
 don't you care for me, Saxon ? " she went on desperately 
 — on the in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-pound principle, I sup- 
 pose. " Why won't you ask me to marry you ? But I 
 know. You will leave me lonely and miserable for all 
 my life just because I am richer than you are." She 
 wrung her hands as she spoke, and the young man, who 
 had stopped short, flushed and turned pale, looking from 
 her to me in confusion. 
 
 " I hope he has more sense," I cried, flinging the 
 words at him as I fled. 
 
 X. 
 
 Whejt I returned to the house, there was a carriage at 
 the door, and I found Brinkhampton ready to depart. 
 
 " I suppose there is really no chance for me ? " he 
 said, in the dubious tone of one who is still venturing 
 to hope. 
 
 " No, none," I answered. " Eugenia has just proposed 
 to Saxon Wake, and I left her trying to persuade him to 
 accept her. It seems that he has some scruples on ac- 
 count of the difference of wealth and position." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " Brinkhampton ejaculated, quite for- 
 getting himself. " If this is your modern maiden, then 
 give me a good old-fashioned womanly woman, who knows 
 
50 EUGENIA. 
 
 nothing and cares less so long as you put her in a good 
 position and let her have lots of money. But " — he looked 
 hard at me — " you are joking, surely." 
 
 " No, I am not," I said. 
 
 " And you approve. I can see you do." 
 
 *' Yes, I do," I answered, " under the circumstances." 
 
 The roar of the rolling spheres, astronomers say, is so 
 tremendous as to be beyond the hearing of our mortal 
 ears ; and so the sudden upward impulse of the human 
 race in this our day, as shown in the attitude of women, 
 is beyond the earthbound comprehension of most men. 
 Brinkhampton could conceive of nothing more eligible 
 for a husband than a man of good manners with a fine 
 position. He stood for some seconds looking down at his 
 boots after I had spoken as if considering, but nothing 
 came of it except another withering glance, the last token 
 with which he favoured me — poor fellow, as Eugenia said. 
 
 We were standing beside a table in the hall on which 
 his covert coat lay, and now he picked it up, put orchis 
 hat, took one last look round as if bidding farewell to the 
 comfortable possessions he had been so confident of mak- 
 ing his own, then walked straight out, got into the car- 
 riage without another word, and was driven away. 
 
 And now I hear he says the most unpleasant things 
 about myself and Mrs. Saxon Wake, but happily Eugenia's 
 maternal duties are too all-engrossing to allow her to 
 trouble herself about idle gossip from that section of 
 society which, as her Uncle Paul maintains, " Ouida 
 shows up." 
 
 Knowing the curious fatality which had befallen the 
 sons of her family ever since that legendary curse was pro- 
 
EUGENIA. 51 
 
 nounced upon them, I had a horrid qualm one day as I 
 sat watching her playing with her baby-boy. 
 
 " He looks strong enough," slipped from me inadvert- 
 ently. 
 
 Eugenia smiled. 
 
 " You are thinking about the curse," she said. " I 
 have thought a great deal about it myself since tliis 
 young gentleman arrived, and I believe I see the mistake 
 we women have all made in the choice of our husbands. 
 It is a universal mistake. AVe admired mere animal cour- 
 age in a man which is only one form of courage, instead 
 of requiring moral courage, which includes every other 
 kind — until I came. But I chose my husband for his 
 moral qualities." 
 
 " Then perhaps you have " 
 
 " I am sure I have," she concluded. " I have removed 
 the curse unawares." 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 " For if they do these things in a green 
 tree, what shall be done in the dry ? " 
 
 I. 
 
 *' There will be no one to see you o£E to-day, as I can- 
 not go myself," my mother said ; " but I suppose if I send 
 you to the station in the carriage you will be able to man- 
 age ; and, now that you are out, the sooner you learn to 
 look after yourself the better." 
 
 " All right," I replied confidently, under the impres- 
 sion that I had very little to learn. And so it happened 
 that, on this particular occasion in my early girlhood, I 
 found myself, with the most delightful sense of impor- 
 tance, travelling from London seawards, alone. The sen- 
 sation was more than agreeable — it was ecstatic. On the 
 way to the station I felt as if I had never been in a car- 
 riage before. I was looking at life from a new point of 
 view, and the people in the streets seemed to see me as I 
 saw myself — at least I fancied that their eyes expressed a 
 different feeling for me from any that had ever shone on 
 me before; but I did not try to translate it. Being 
 pleased and happy myself, it seemed only natural that a 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 53 
 
 pleased and happy expression should come into every face 
 that was turned towards me. 
 
 Having arrived at the station, found my train, and se- 
 cured a seat, I began to loiter up and down the long plat- 
 form, ostensibly watching the people, but really, witli the 
 happy conceit of youth, absorbed in myself, as it appears 
 to me now ; yet it was not altogether conceit, but rather 
 the blissful absence of that sense of comparison which 
 comes later on with chastening effect to show us our own 
 unimportance. The sudden sense of freedom had re- 
 vealed me to myself all out of focus, as it were, and mag- 
 nified, as objects appear at first to one who has just re- 
 covered his sight ; and I believe if I had done a portrait 
 of myself at that moment I should have made myself 
 seven feet high. 
 
 But pride goeth before a fall, and I was brought up 
 out of this happy state with a jerk which effectually upset 
 the dignity of my demeanour. I had perceived that the 
 train was in motion, and it flashed through my mind that 
 it was being inconsiderate enough to depart without me. 
 As it was the last one in the day that would suit my pur- 
 pose, I made a desperate dash for a carriage door, and 
 scrambled in, regardless of the howling officials on the 
 platform who would have hindered me. In doing so I 
 became aware of exactly the same performance taking 
 place at the farther end of the compartment ; it was as if 
 I had caught a flying glimpse of myself in a mirror as I 
 jumped on to the footboard, opened the door, and swung 
 myself in, after the deliberate manner peculiar to guards 
 on the Underground. But, as often happens, although 
 I had seen the thing done, the fact did not rise from my 
 
54 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 sub-consciousness to the surface of my thoughts, in order 
 to present itself for my consideration, for some time after 
 I had taken my seat. 
 
 The train slid out of the dingy station, and now every- 
 thing was of interest. I even strained my eyes to read 
 the advertisements paraded on blank brick walls, corners 
 of squalid houses, parapets and arches of railway bridges, 
 any- and everywhere, till my brain reeled. 
 
 But then came a glimpse of the river. The unpolluted 
 summer air streamed in upon me. The summer sun- 
 shine, unthinned by smoke, lit u]^ the landscape, sparkled 
 on the water, brightened the blue of the sky, whitened 
 the clouds, reddened the roofs, intensified the green, and 
 fl.ooded my whole soul with another kind of joy in life, 
 very different from that which I had just been experi- 
 encing". There had been excitement in the crowd, but 
 here alone there was supreme content. 
 
 It was a torrid day; but Fate had befriended me, 
 for it was a cushionless third-class compartment I had 
 stormed, all open and airy, and also empty, as I at first 
 supposed ; but in this I was mistaken. There had been 
 nobody visible to begin with, but, on looking across after 
 a while, I was surprised to see a pair of bright dark eyes 
 just appearing above the backs of the seats, at the farther 
 end of the compartment. These eyes were fixed upon me 
 in a confident way ; and involuntarily I felt, the moment 
 they met mine, that a flash of intelligence had passed be- 
 tween us. The immediate consequence was, that the 
 owner of the eyes, a lanky, dark girl, got up, fixed a strug- 
 gling bull pup under her arm, where she held it firmly in 
 spite of its kicks and yelps and snaps, clambered clumsily 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 55 
 
 over the backs of the seats from her end of the compart- 
 ment to mine, regardless of any disphiy she might make 
 of lean legs by the way, and sat down op^iosite to me. 
 
 " Two's company," she remarked oracularly. 
 
 " Quite so ; but you were two to begin with," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 *' Counting the bull pup," she said, drawing the crea-, 
 ture from under her arm as she spoke. " Isn't he a beau- 
 ty ? " She held him up by the forelegs, and shook him 
 playfully, addressing him the while in tender tones: 
 " Look at urn's chin, and urn's legs how um bows ; and 
 look at um's worry magnificent nose ! " 
 
 But the puppy, evidently not appreciating these compli- 
 ments, began again to kick and growl and snap impatiently, 
 exercises which drew from his delighted mistress assur- 
 ances that " he was a game un, den ! " as she settled him 
 comfortably upon her lap. He was already a formidable- 
 looking creature, a brindle of exceptional beauty, judged, 
 of course, by his own standard of excellence. 
 
 " I bought him," the young lady proceeded, " to draw 
 Aunt Marsh. I want to make her believe that the out- 
 come of Woman's Rights is bull pups. But now I'm be- 
 ginning to love him — a beauty, den I — for his own sake. 
 What a nuisance it is metaphors will mix ! I was just 
 going to remark that Aunt Marsh is the kind of bull you 
 must take by the horns if you would get on with her ; 
 and that's what I mean, only it isn't quite right, some- 
 how. Now, my mother is sixty thousand times cleverer 
 than Aunt Marsh, yet she gives in to her — they're sisters- 
 in-law, you know — but I'm a generation in advance of my 
 mother, thank goodness I " 
 
56 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 " I ought to tell you," I observed, " that I believe I 
 know your Aunt : Lady Marsh, is she not?" 
 
 She looked at me with a pitying smile. " Yes, that's 
 the person," she answered. " But, now, do you supj^ose 
 that I'm quite such an idiot as to express myself so freely 
 to a stranger of whom I know nothing ? " 
 
 " Well, then, you have the advantage of me, for I am 
 quite sure I have never seen you before, nor have I ever 
 heard of anything like you." 
 
 " Anything like me ! Now, that's delicious. But you 
 mean who am I ? I can't abide that roundabout way of 
 asking who a body is. But I'll tell you who I am, just 
 because you're not egotistical." 
 
 " How have you discovered that I'm not egotistical ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " Because you thought first of me rather than of what 
 concerned yourself. Most people would have wanted to 
 find out what I knew about them, and until I told them 
 they wouldn't have taken any interest in me." 
 
 " But you haven't told me " 
 
 " Oh, I'm Adalesa Shutt," she interrupted offhand. 
 " Adalesa Shutt-up is the form it genei^ally takes with the 
 impolite. I may mention that my parents are responsible 
 for the name. They still survive." 
 
 There was a pause after this, during which she hugged 
 her brindle bull dog absently, with her dark eyes fixed on 
 a far-away point of the horizon. 
 
 While under the influence of her bright, sharp, slangy 
 manner as she talked, I had supposed her to be about 
 fifteen. She wore her dress short, and her hair hanging 
 down her back in a thick plait, as girls of that age gener- 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 57 
 
 ally do ; but now, as she sat silently contemplative, she 
 looked older. 
 
 " But why should you ' draw ' your aunt, as you call 
 it ? " burst from me involuntarily, as I watched her. 
 
 She turned upon me with her infectious smile. " It 
 is the only possible attitude for me in her abode," she 
 said — " a don't-care-came-to-be-hanged kind of attitude. 
 I daren't be docile or affectionate, because I have to keep 
 her at a distance, otherwise she would give me good advice. 
 She did make me suffer the first time I stayed with her!" 
 
 » But " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know all that," she put in impatiently. 
 " She's the kindest woman in the world, you were going 
 to say. Everybody says so. But just you observe ! I 
 would rather have a termagant to fight. One wouldn't 
 be afraid of hurting her. But these soft, sweet women 
 bruise so easily, they make you suffer all round. There 
 are your nerves and your better nature both on the alert, 
 while your good sense is being outraged, and your worst 
 self is fighting to be up in opposition. Heaven help me 
 from having to encounter a feather-bed woman ! " 
 
 " But how did she make you suffer ? " 
 
 " Oh — I'll show you when we arrive." 
 
 " How do you know I am going there ? " I asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 Again she looked at me and laughed, but only re- 
 peated : " I'll show you when we get there. Mind you, I 
 don't suffer now." 
 
 The train pulled up at a little country station as she 
 spoke, and we both alighted. An open carriage was wait- 
 ing outside for us. 
 
58 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 "All, there is my frieud Barkins," Adalesa exclaimed, 
 meaning the coachman, "/'w going to drive, Barkins — 
 Barkins bein' willin'," she added aside to me. 
 
 " You and John must go inside," she further insisted, 
 " because Mademoiselle here only sits on the box. She 
 always travels third class, and sits on the box. Those are 
 her ladyship's orders. I have them here in my pocket " 
 — and she slapped that receptacle. 
 
 The coachman hesitated, and looked at me as if for 
 confirmation, but I preserved my gravity. The misstate- 
 ment Adalesa had made with regard to my usual mode of 
 travelling led me to infer that the rest of the story was 
 rather more facetious than accurate ; but I would not 
 have betrayed her for the world. I wanted to see what 
 next. 
 
 The coachman slowly descended from his box, keeping 
 a wary eye on Adalesa all the time, as if he were seeking 
 a sign for his guidance, or suspected firearms. As he de- 
 scended on the one side, however, she scrambled up on 
 the other, and when she had seated herself he handed her 
 the reins. I had followed her on to the box, so that there 
 was nothing now but for him and the footman to get into 
 the carriage. 
 
 " You'd better put the luggage in too," Adalesa sug- 
 gested ; and it was with a look of relief that the men 
 complied. " Otherwise," she whispered to me, " any one 
 meeting the carriage, and seeing you and me on the box, 
 driving the servants, might have mistaken us for a trav- 
 elling lunatic asylum." 
 
 " N'ot such a very great mistake, perhaps, after all," I 
 ventured. 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 59 
 
 *' Oh, my dear, speak for yourself," slie promptly re- 
 joined; "as for me, there's a method, you know." 
 
 She put the bull pup between her feet as she spoke, 
 and tightened the reins ; and then we were off — not at a 
 wild gallop, as I quite expected, but at that rapid, exhila- 
 rating trot at which only a good whip can keep a good 
 pair of horses. I understood the coachman's easy acquies- 
 cence better now. It was evident that the girl was ac- 
 customed to drive. She had that negligent look and atti- 
 tude, and apparently careless way of holding the reins, 
 which betoken mastery of the art. The road itself she 
 scarcely seemed to see. Her e3"es wandered away from it 
 on all sides, and at that moment one would have said they 
 were dreamy eyes, seeking sharp contrasts of sunshine and 
 shadow less than mystical effects of dimness and distance. 
 
 The drive left impressions in my mind of a dusty road 
 with heavy frondage of ferns by the wayside, all drooping, 
 as though wearied and reposing from the ardent summer 
 heat. Then there came a fertile land well wooded ; the 
 sheen of a copper beech ; low hills lifting a belt of sombre 
 pines up to the azure of the sky ; the grey- white wool of 
 sheep against the green of grass ; the reflection of indolent 
 cattle standing ankle-deep in a pool ; the heavy foliage on 
 overhanging boughs ; bracken on the banks, and wild 
 flowers everywhere. Adalesa pointed out two objects of 
 interest with her whip : " Those chimneys there in the 
 wood — you can see the smoke above the trees — that is the 
 house. And there, beyond, don't you see? that shining 
 line, that is the sea — the sea ! " She drew in licr breath 
 as if the very word were a joy to her. But presently she 
 burst out again in her usual w\ay : 
 6 
 
60 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " I should think you feel like a figure in a farce," she 
 said, on seeing me glance behind at the servants sitting 
 solemnly with folded arms and their backs to the horses, 
 opposite our trunks, which arrogantly occupied the other 
 seat. 
 
 Then we entered the Chase, and began to catch 
 glimpses of a great house among the trees. Some places 
 have an aspect of self-denial impressed upon every feature ; 
 as you approach they seem to insist that you shall ob- 
 serve the economies they have had to practise ; but here it 
 was just the opposite. There was a self-indulgent, spick- 
 and-span, affluent air about everything. 
 
 " Oh ! " Adalesa exclaimed, " I begin to feel feather 
 bedding about, don't you? Nasty unwholesome stuffy 
 thing, feather bedding. Aunt Marsh is by way of soften- 
 ing me, rubbing off the rough edges, don't you know. 
 Just you watch ! " 
 
 11. 
 
 Lady Marsh must have heard the crunch of carriage 
 wheels as we drew up at the door, for she came hurrying 
 down to meet us ; but the men-servants had hopped out 
 alertly, and w^e ourselves had descended from the box 
 before she appeared, so that I doubt if she ever knew how 
 we had come. 
 
 " Do come in, dears ! " she exclaimed. " Come to the 
 drawing-room and have some tea. Evangeline is out. 
 She will be so sorry. She had to go for a ride, but of 
 course she expected to be back in time, only one can't 
 always calculate. Dear children! I am so glad to see 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 61 
 
 you. Why, you seem to have grown, Adalesa. You are 
 certainly taller and — and slimmer." 
 
 " Longer and lankier," Adalesa translated cheerfully. 
 
 " But isn't your dress just a little short, dearest, for 
 your age ? " Lady Marsh ventured in the gentlest way, 
 when we were seated. She was known as " a siceet woman," 
 " one of those whom it is restful to recall " ; and I was 
 not at all pleased to find that that seed of corruption, the 
 trick of absurdly associating her with feather beds, had 
 taken root in my mind ; but it had, and there it remains. 
 
 " Long dresses ! " Adalesa ejaculated : " no, thank you ! 
 I know what is expected of long dresses." 
 
 "Dignity, is it not, dear?" her aunt ventured, with a 
 deprecating smile. 
 
 *' Yes," Adalesa groaned ; " and dignity, they say, is a 
 mysterious carriage of the body to cover defects of the 
 mind." 
 
 Lady Marsh sat down at the tea-table, and began to 
 pour out tea. " But, you see, dear, men say such things," 
 she replied, in her gentle way. 
 
 " Ah — men ! " Adalesa drawled. " You see, I haven't 
 made up my mind to like men yet — a man, perhaps, 
 eventually — but men! too conceited, you know." 
 
 " Dear child ! what do ijou know about men ? " 
 
 " Absolutely nothing," was the candid rejoinder; "and 
 that's why I wear short dresses. I want to study man, 
 and he only shows himself to short frocks. He's off 
 guard with them. But I'll find him out ! My angles fit 
 me for the task. Thank heaven for my angles ! No 
 man who looks at me will think of me as a young lady, 
 that most awful of human weaknesses." 
 
62 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " I don't like to hear you speak in that flippant way, 
 dear," her aunt deprecated. " The man is the head of 
 the woman, you know." 
 
 " Yes, sometimes," said Adalesa, judicially ; " and 
 sometimes he isn't, because the woman is a long way 
 ahead of him. But the rule is much of a muchness, I 
 believe." 
 
 "Well, then, it would be a case of two heads are 
 better than one in a household," her aunt answered, good- 
 humouredly. 
 
 " Or too many cooks spoil the broth — you never 
 know," came the ready response. " But where's my 
 pup?" she broke off; then rushed from the room, ex- 
 claiming that she'd forgotten him. 
 
 " That child's cleverness is quite phenomenal," Lady 
 Marsh remarked when she had disappeared. " But, oh 
 dear, it is all so terrible — so very wrong-headed, you 
 know ! And " — stooping over to speak in an undertone, 
 as if the matter were not quite delicate — " I am afraid it 
 is all my poor sister's fault. She is so sadly what they 
 call ' advanced ' — woman's rights, the suffrage, short hair, 
 and all that, you know." 
 
 Lady Marsh spoke in a confidential tone, very flatter- 
 ing to a young girl from a woman of her age and station, 
 and also flattering in that it was natural to infer from it 
 that she thought I had been brought up in a superior 
 manner. 
 
 Adalesa returned with the bull pup under her arm. 
 " Isn't he siveet 9 " she demanded, putting him down, and 
 making him run towards her aunt. 
 
 " No ! " Lady Marsh exclaimed, drawing her skirts 
 
or THE \ 
 
 ^NIYER8(T< 
 
 ^^ THE YELLOW LEAF. 03 
 
 togetnei' lest he should touch her — " anything but sweet. 
 Oh ! — do take him away ! How could you bring such a 
 dreadful creature here ? " 
 
 " Dreadful creature ! " Adalesa repeated in an injured 
 tone ; then picking up her grotesque pet she hugged him 
 like a mother whose babe has just been insulted. " And 
 I thouglit Well, if it is womanly to be so hard-heart- 
 ed, I'd rather not be womanly." She tossed her head 
 haughtily when she had spoken, and managed to look 
 both hurt and offended. 
 
 " My dear child," Lady Marsh cried in consternation, 
 " what have I done ? You don't expect me to like that 
 dreadful creature ? I should be ashamed to have it seen 
 about the house. Who ever heard of a gentlewoman pet- 
 ting such a " 
 
 Adalesa uttered a little scream. " Don't — don't say 
 nasty things about him. I shall hate — amj one — who 
 doesn't appreciate him." She drew herself up, glanced 
 at me, and walked with dignity out of the room. 
 
 " Well ! " Lady Marsh exclaimed for the second time. 
 " Now, you see, my dear, what comes of this nonsense — 
 taking women out of their proper sphere and all that ! " 
 
 " Do you mean," I began, " that you think a fondness 
 
 for bull pups " But here I checked myself, for I 
 
 perceived that I was inadvertently playing into the hands 
 of the wicked Adalesa. 
 
 On my way upstairs to dress for dinner, I discovered 
 that young person's dark head inserted in a doorway, 
 round which she was peering. " Come in and kiss my 
 pup," she said, persuasively, looking at me with languish- 
 ing eyes. 
 
64, THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " Tell me," I said, ignoring this last impertinence, 
 " Tell me how much of your late misconduct was by way 
 of ' drawing ' your aunt, and how much was " 
 
 "Innate cussedness?" she suggested. 
 
 " Innate cussedness," I gravely repeated. 
 
 " Oh — you pays your money, et cmtera,^^ she answered 
 easily. " But I'm dressed and you're not," she proceeded ; 
 " and you're late. Let me go to your room and help you." 
 
 I led the way, smiling a little to myself as I pictured 
 the sort of help I thought I might expect from her ; but 
 I soon found I was utterly mistaken in my surmise. I 
 had imagined her awkward and inefficient, but found 
 her deftness itself, and, what is more, she was kind. It 
 was loving service that she did me when she laughed at 
 some inartistic arrangement of ornaments I had devised 
 for my hair, threw the artificial things aside, and clev- 
 erly replaced them with fresh and fragrant flowers. She 
 certainly did her best to make the most of me, but all 
 the time how she talked ! 
 
 "When I first saw you to-day I thought you were 
 older than I am," she said, " but it seems you are younger. 
 You say such wise things, though, and look so grave, it's 
 easy to be mistaken. But now I see you are only a babe 
 with a big head, and you want a lot of attention. You'll 
 have to go through a period of feather-bedasia, and you'll 
 suffer ; but don't be disheartened. Just do as I do. Be 
 vulgar, buy a bull pup, and chatter." 
 
 " I don't in the least see what I'm to suffer from," I 
 protested. " Your aunt is charming." 
 
 "Yes," she rejoined with a groan; "didn't I warn 
 you that she was ? " 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 65 
 
 " And as for your cousin Evangeline " 
 
 " Now, stop," she interrupted. " I won't let you com- 
 mit yourself to that stupid fallacy. Evangeline isn't 
 charming. I am the reaction from feather-bedasia ; she 
 is the consequence of it ; and she's a pig." 
 
 "I don't agree with you at all," I answered decidedly; 
 " and I should think I know as much about her as you 
 do, for we were at school together; and she was most 
 popular with all the girls." 
 
 " Oh, yes," Adalesa answered, imitating her aunt. 
 " She has such pretty manners, as Aunt Marsh says, ' so 
 gentle, so refined, so unaffected ' — a whole string of ad- 
 jectives, a set formula that has been flung at me — no, I 
 should say, gently insisted icpon for my benefit so often 
 that I am not likely to forget it. And then she always 
 promised to be a beauty, I suppose, which must have 
 added greatly to her prestige with girls at school. But 
 all the same, she's a pig. Why wasn't she here to receive 
 us to-day?" 
 
 " Her mother said she had had to ride " 
 
 " Her mother ought to know better than to excuse 
 her. It was a fine day, and Evangeline thought it would 
 be more amusing to go for a ride than to come in the 
 carriage to meet us ; so she went, and she has not yet re- 
 turned ; and that is Evangeline all over. Oh, I know 
 her ! And so would you if you'd ever been here before. 
 Have you, by the way ? " 
 
 " I thought you knew all about me ! You seemed to 
 say so in the train to-day." 
 
 " I knew your name and address, for I read them on 
 the luggage you were looking after when you came into 
 
QQ THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 tlie station," she answered, with charming candour. " I 
 saw you peacocking about as if you were somebody, and, 
 as your belongings were deposited under my eyes, I had 
 the curiosity to look and see. If I hadn't known that you 
 ^vcYe coming here you wouldn't have had the honour of 
 making my acquaintance so early in the day, for, although 
 free with my friends, I am not in the habit of picking up 
 any goodness-knows-who for a travelling companion." 
 
 "Aren't you?" I said in surprise. "I should have 
 thought " 
 
 " You would have thought ! " she exclaimed. " You 
 innocent babe ! You haven't learnt to think yet. But 
 you are very entertaining. I nearly missed my train 
 watching you. You w^ere so smily and pleased with your- 
 self and everybody else, anybody could see it was the first 
 time you'd ever been on your own hook. My, what a 
 blush ! It's running all down your back. Well, forgive 
 me ! I didn't mean to wound your pride. But you're 
 too sensitive, my dear — as sensitive as you're simple, and 
 as transparent. Those who run might read your every 
 emotion ; and that would be rapid reading too, for you 
 suffer from a singular variety of emotions in a short 
 time." 
 
 " You seem to be a singularly acute young person," I 
 observed, bridling. 
 
 " Well, yes," she rejoined, with unvarying cheerful- 
 ness, " I am sharp, very." She stood off as she spoke to 
 see the effect of a big bow she had pinned on my dress ; 
 adding, as she looked, with her head on one side, " So you 
 have never been here before ? " 
 
 " No," I answered. " Your aunt was a friend of my 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. (J7 
 
 mother's, long ago, before either of tliem was married ; 
 but they hadn't met for years until last season, when 
 Evangeline and I left school, and came out ; and then 
 they renewed their acquaintance. They agreed that Evan- 
 geline and I mustn't consider our education finished sim- 
 ply because we had left school ; and as Evangeline is an 
 only child. Lady Marsh entreated my mother to let me 
 come here for awhile to work with her. My mother is 
 great on the question of education. She says she has suf- 
 fered all her life long from having had hers curtailed, and 
 she is determined therefore that her daughters shall have 
 every advantage that her sons have. If we are not clever 
 enough to profit there will be no harm done ; and if we 
 are, she expects us to be thankful that we were allowed to 
 experiment and see what we could do, instead of being 
 kept ignorant in deference to a mere theory that we have 
 no mental capacity. But of course we are not coerced. 
 Since I left school I have been allowed to follow my own 
 inclinations, and I have chosen to be taught the same 
 things that my brothers are studying." 
 
 " Gracious, how clever the child talks ! " Adalesa ex- 
 claimed in her irrepressible way. " It's just like a book. 
 Perhaps you learnt it by heart. I begin to suspect you 
 have a mind. What a terrible thing! But, anyway, what 
 a blessing it is you met me ! A few years more, and you 
 would have been unendurable." She stood off again, with 
 her arms akimbo, and contemplated me from this new 
 point of view, derisively at first, but by degrees her face 
 softened. "And so you have come here to work with 
 Evangeline, you innocent babe ! " she said humorously. 
 " You must be clever. Only a very clever person would 
 
68 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 have done such a stupid thing — a hook-clever person I 
 mean, not a world-clever person. It isn't human to be up 
 to everything, and your world-clever people are all out of 
 it in literature, but your book-clever people fail in their 
 knowledge of life. Now, do you really suppose that Evan- 
 geline will keep up anything but showy accomplishments? 
 And even those she will only do superficially, — a little 
 music, a little drawing, rather more French because of the 
 naughty books, which she reads regularly, but never leaves 
 lying about, for Evangeline is wdse in her generation — 
 though not wise enough to conquer her amateurishness, 
 that curse of our sex — an amateur, that's what she is, a 
 cunning amateur imperfect in everything, one of those, 
 admired for their beauty and despised for their folly, 
 who bring ridicule upon us all. Yet you believe in her ! 
 Yah, Simple Sincerity ! Child of Light ! Hot water, 
 that's what's in store for you here— perpetual hot water. 
 You'll always be putting your foot in it." 
 
 " You encourage me," I said. 
 
 " Don't mention it," she answered. 
 
 III. 
 
 Hayixg dressed me to her satisfaction, much as a 
 nurse does a child without consulting it, Adalesa made 
 me a deep reverence, offered me her arm, and conducted 
 me downstairs in the most gentlemanly manner. She had 
 quite taken me under her wing by this time, and was pre- 
 pared to pet and patronise me ; but somehow I did not 
 resent her assumption of superiority, for her mind was 
 more mature than mine was, and I had to yield of neces- 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 09 
 
 sity to her force of character, having no strength of my 
 own at that time to oppose to it. 
 
 " AVhat a lovely old house ! " I exclaimed, on our way 
 to the drawing-room. 
 
 " Yes, it is like Uncle Henry," she answered — " big, 
 solid, comfortable, strong, warm, and good. He's early 
 English himself, and splendid. You'll see ! " 
 
 He was alone in the drawing-room when we entered, 
 in appearance a typical English country gentleman of the 
 best kind, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the 
 fireplace in the typical attitude. He received us both most 
 kindly, but with few words, contenting himself with look- 
 ing from one to the other with a benign smile on his face, 
 as if he were sorting our separate attractions, comparing 
 and approving of us. 
 
 " That pig, Evangeline, has not been near us yet," 
 Adalesa grumbled. " It's pretty bad manners to me, but 
 it's downright rude to " 
 
 The door opened as she spoke, and Evangeline- herself , 
 all in white tulle, floated towards us, exclaiming : " So 
 sorry. I was afraid you would think me rude " — she 
 clasped her hands towards me with a little entreating 
 gesture — " but, oh, pray don't. I really have an excuse." 
 
 " Let's hear what it is, then," Adalesa answered 
 bluntly. 
 
 " My horse — I rode too far," she commenced, stam- 
 mering. 
 
 " That's no excuse," Adalesa interrupted. 
 
 " Dear, do excuse me," Evangeline said to me ; and 
 when I found her so sweetly apologetic I did excuse her 
 at once, and, moreover, felt angry with Adalesa for mak- 
 
70 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 ing such a scene, although the moment before, while under 
 her exclusive influence, I had agreed that Evangeline was 
 rude. Now, however, with Evangeline there to delight 
 my eyes and soothe my senses with her gentleness and 
 grace, I could not believe anything of her that was not 
 altogether lovely and adorable. 
 
 " You may say what you like," Adalesa added ; " but 
 you have committed a breach of hospitality, and for the 
 honour of the family I take upon myself to reprove you." 
 
 " Thanks," Evangeline said^ smiling with unruffled 
 sweetness. 
 
 Sir Henry sat down in an easy chair, fixed his eyes on 
 some ferns in the grate, and looked as if he had not heard ; 
 but when Adalesa went presently and lounged on the arm 
 of his chair, with her elbow on his shoulder, he took her 
 hand and caressed it gently. 
 
 Lady Marsh came into the room just then, smiling 
 amiably as usual, and dressed in an opulent manner. 
 " Adalesa, dear^'' she said : " do move away. You will 
 make your uncle quite hot." 
 
 Adalesa languidly complied, and Sir Henry leant back 
 in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. His silence 
 struck me as significant. He seemed to be, either by way 
 of acquiescing in, or of utterly ignoring the sayings and 
 doings of the ladies of his family, a singularly indifferent 
 or singularly neutral person ; and I wondered if he always 
 let Lady Marsh decide whether he was too hot or not, and 
 that sort of thing. 
 
 There were a few good pictures in the dining-room, 
 and after dinner he showed them to me, and told me anec- 
 dotes, also, about some family portraits that hung in the 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. 71 
 
 hall, and some ancient armour. The house was several 
 centuries old, with a long, unbroken family history, wliich 
 was illustrated by most of its contents. The old carved 
 cabinets, and everything else in the way of ornament, had 
 their associations, and even the furniture, some of it, had 
 a history attached to it, to which I listened with an hon- 
 est interest that satisfied Sir Henry. Lady Marsh and 
 Evangeline had remained at table discussing the details of 
 a dinner-dress they had seen somewhere ; but Adalesawent 
 with us, clinging to her uncle's arm with both hands. 
 
 " I would have you observe that there are no meaning- 
 less feminine fripperies here," she cried. " This has been 
 the cradle of a sturdy race ; and it looks like it. I'm one 
 of the race," she added, laughing up at her uncle. 
 
 " Dear child ! " Lady Marsh exclaimed, coming out of 
 the dining-room at that moment, " don't hang on your 
 uncle so ; you will tire him." Then to me, in her amiable 
 way : " This is but a bare old place at present, but now 
 that Evangeline is old enough to take an interest in it, 
 we must see what can be done." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " Adalesa groaned ; " if Aunt Marsh and 
 Evangeline are to desecrate it, the good old oak and 
 ebony will be disguised in down cushions and dimity in 
 no time." 
 
 " Dear, is that quite respectful ? " Lady Marsh ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " No ; nor would it be respectful for an alien to alter 
 anything here," Adalesa rejoined doggedly. 
 
 " I am afraid, dear, your uncle spoils you," Lady 
 Marsh said in her gentlest way, and tlion swept on to the 
 drawing-room, arm-in-arm with Evangeline. At the door 
 
72 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 she looked back over her shoulder, and said to Sir Henry : 
 " Don't make that child do too much, dearest. She has 
 had a journey, you know." 
 
 " AVhich child ? " he asked in an undertone, looking 
 from one to the other, as soon as the drawing-room door 
 was shut. 
 
 " Neither," Adalesa said, scornfully. 
 
 " Then take an arm each, my dears," he rejoined, al- 
 most in a whisper, " and we'll see what there is to be 
 seen." 
 
 From which I perceived that this benign-looking gen- 
 tleman, seemingly so yielding, was in reality a bold, bad 
 man, capable of opposition, who had put himself in my 
 power; and I slipped my hand through his arm, and 
 smiled up at him confidently, just as Adalesa, on the 
 other side, was doing. He beamed down upon us both, 
 and led us away to the library, where he lived as a rule 
 when he was not out of doors ; and there he shovv'ed us 
 miniatures, arms, and ancient gems of his ancestors, who 
 seemed to fill the great comfortable room as he talked 
 about them, and to be nearer to him than the wife 
 and daughter, with their marvellous charms of manner, 
 whose tastes and interests were all so modern, of the 
 Society kind, so far removed, if not so utterly opposed, 
 to everything he cherished. 
 
 IV. 
 
 EvAKGELiNE had a sitting-room of lier own, a sunny 
 south room, and here w^e girls were to work. We settled 
 down to it next day, and during the morning Lady Marsh 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. Y3 
 
 looked in, "just to see how you are getting on, dears! 
 And what are you doing?" meaning me. 
 
 " Mathematics," I answered. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " she exclaimed. " You must excuse me, 
 dear child, but is it nice for a young lady to study such a 
 very masculine subject? A girl's manner, you know, 
 should be so very different. The woman's sphere is to 
 refine and elevate man." 
 
 " But do mathematics make one's manners mascu- 
 line?" I asked in alarm. I was diffident in those days, 
 as became my age, and the least shade of disapproval 
 made me unhappy. 
 
 " Well, they have not done so as yet in your case, dear 
 child," Lady Marsh answered, with infinite tact. " But 
 still, you know, dear, they are not womanly pursuits. 
 You will not be fit for the duties of wife and mother by- 
 and-by if you injure your constitution now. I know your 
 mother's idea, but I cannot agree with her, and I often 
 tell her I am sure she would not now be the dear, sweet, 
 ivomanly woman she is, if she had been taught these new- 
 fangled notions as a girl. I cannot think it is right for 
 young ladies to be educated like their brothers, and go to 
 the university and all that nonsense, getting such ideas ! 
 I don't believe that a woman's mind is inferior to a 
 man's, you know — far from it ; and, in fact, in some 
 things" — she looked round and lowered her voice — 
 " there can be no doubt as to which is the superior sex, 
 only it doesn't do to say so, men make such remarks. 
 But, as to professions for women, and that sort of thing, 
 why, fancy me a professional woman ! Evangeline, dear- 
 est^ put your French away, that's a good child, and get 
 
74 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 a story book. I am sure you have done enough for to- 
 day." 
 
 When she had spoken she patted my shoulder kindly, 
 smiled on us all, and left the room. 
 
 " Now see what you have brought on yourself, with your 
 mathematics ! " Adalesa exclaimed, her dark eyes dancing 
 mischievously. " Aunt Marsh knew your mother's idea, 
 and I believe she's got you down here to cure you of it. 
 That's the sort of kind thing she's celebrated for. She 
 suspected mathematics this morning, and came in pre- 
 pared." 
 
 Evangeline, who had risen with cheerful alacrity to 
 put her books away, in obedience to her mother's sugges- 
 tion, turned now from the bookshelf at which she was 
 standing dipping into a novel, and looked at Adalesa in- 
 dignantly. " I don't think it is nice of you," she said, " to 
 speak like that about my mother. She must know better 
 than either you or I. Why, just think ! You will own 
 that we were intended to be healthy and happy — that we 
 require to be so in order to be equal to such duties as we 
 have to perform — and how can we be so if we go and in- 
 jure ourselves with work we are not fit for? It's only 
 common-sense, if you will think. Men were clearly in- 
 tended to do all the hard work, and keep us in comfort, 
 and screen us from anything objectionable. My ambition 
 is to be a ivomanly woman. I think mamma is quite 
 right." 
 
 By this time I was feeling very uncomfortable. To be 
 thought unwomanly seemed to me as dreadful as to be 
 thought wicked ; but yet I felt there was something 
 wrong somewhere, for I could not see sex in a subject of 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 75 
 
 study. Why should one be masculine and another femi- 
 nine? Surely there is no sex in mind? The ques- 
 tion of what we shall be taught should be answered by 
 finding out for us what we have the ability to learn. If 
 a boy has a genius for cooking and a girl the faculty for 
 medicine, he must be a sorry educator who takes pains 
 to pervert either of them from their natural bent, with 
 the inevitable result that the girl becomes a bad cook 
 and the boy an indilYerent doctor. Happily this time- 
 honoured idiotcy is dying out, but, like all conventions 
 based on prejudice, it will linger long in secluded minds 
 — where the fact that he as a man and she as a woman is 
 indication enough for both general and special purposes 
 of education, and will be until preceptors are made to 
 suffer at the hands of the bad cooks, indifferent doctors, 
 and other mistakes they have helped to produce — com- 
 monplaces, by the way, known well to all of us, but by 
 how few applied ! 
 
 Evangeline had departed, and Adalesa was watching 
 me with a grin on her intelligent countenance. " Tliere 
 is no resisting a feather bed, is there ? " she asked. " Aunt 
 Marsh is on the war path, I think, this morning. She'll 
 go and order Uncle Henry's day till she's feather-bedded 
 all the comfort out of it. Let's go and see ! " 
 
 She jumped up, seized me by the arm, and dragged me 
 
 away to the library, where we found Sir Henry slowly 
 
 pacing up and down, deep in thought. He looked from 
 
 one to the other of us almost sadly when we entered, but 
 
 smiled indulgently at Adalesa when she dropped my arm 
 
 and, seizing his in her energetic way, squeezed it between 
 
 both hands, and then worked it up and down like a pump 
 6 
 
76 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 liandle, as if she could get what she wanted out of 
 him so. 
 
 " Tell us about education," she demanded. 
 
 " Ah — education," he answered. " Your aunt has 
 just been talking to me about education. She thinks you 
 have been foolishly over-educated, and that has made you 
 rough ; and she fears for this little lady here " — meaning 
 me — "she is anxious about you, my dear. She has a 
 great loving heart, and every girl is her daughter. She 
 wants you all to have a good time.'^'^ He used this last ex- 
 pression apologetically. 
 
 " And so do you," Adalesa exclaimed, on the defensive. 
 She had dropped his arm, and stood frowning intently, 
 and biting one of her fingers between her words. " But, 
 isn't it nonsense ? Of course I'm rough. I'm rough on 
 purpose. I'm rougher here than anywhere. If I lived 
 like Evangeline, in cotton wool, I should grow flabby ; 
 and she says it's education ! When she sees, too, that it 
 hasn't had that effect in this other most notable case " — 
 looking at me. " Tell me all over again about education. 
 Uncle Henry. I'm all ruffled. I want to know." 
 
 Sir Henry began to walk up and down the room with 
 his hands behind him. " What we learn is but a small 
 part of education," he said, and it sounded as if he were 
 reflecting aloud. " It is what we think of things, not 
 what we know of them — our opinions — that affect our con- 
 duct. If you learn the multiplication table by heart, and 
 merely remember that you know it, the knowledge will 
 have no consequence one way or the other ; but if you are 
 taught to think that because you know the multiplication 
 table you ought to be a very high-principled person, you'll 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. Y7 
 
 find yourself insensibly seeking to live up to tliat idea. 
 If, however, on the other hand, you hear continually that 
 a knowledge of the multiplication table must be lowering 
 in effect upon the character — if it is insinuated that your 
 taste will be corrupted by it and your manners coarsened, 
 until the notion that such a consequence is inevitable 
 takes possession of your mind in spite of yourself — then it 
 is only too probable that that will be the case." 
 
 "Now, that is true!" Adalesa exclaimed, "and here 
 are we two in evidence of the fact." 
 
 Sir Henry stopjDcd a moment to look at us, and then 
 resumed his walk. " There's a great deal of cant rife just 
 now on the subject of women and their education," he 
 observed, " most of which, being summed up, amounts to 
 a firm conviction that a half -educated girl, a creature who 
 has learnt to live for the pleasure of the moment, to love 
 for the joy of loving, and to marry in order to secure as 
 many of the good things of this world as she can, is in 
 every way a suitable and congenial companion for an edu- 
 cated man, and an admirable specimen of the ' woman's- 
 sphere-is-home ' woman. A to}" — that's what the creature 
 is, an unreasonable and illogical toy, neither reason nor 
 logic having entered into the curriculum of that kind of 
 * womanly woman,' it having been supposed that a large 
 establishment is most admirably managed by a mistress 
 whose reasoning powers have never been cultivated, and a 
 young family best brought up on the superstitious prac- 
 tices solemnly confided in mysterious whispers by Mrs. 
 Gamp " 
 
 The windows stood wide open, and Lady Marsh looked 
 in at one of them. " Dearest children ! " she cried, " don't 
 
78 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 you see how fine it is ? You ought to be out. Adalesa, 
 what are you worrying your uncle about ? I am sure he 
 doesn't want you here at this time of day." 
 
 V. 
 
 In" the afternoon I went out for a ride with Adalesa. 
 Evangeline would not accompany us. She had a packet 
 of sweets in her pocket, and was deep in an entrancing 
 novel by that time, from which she could not be induced 
 to separate herself for the rest of the day, and on the next 
 she had a bad headache. " Which just shows," her 
 mother protested, with gentle emphasis, " how very neces- 
 sary it is to supervise a young girl's studies, and what it 
 would be if the dear child were being brought up, as too 
 many young ladies are nowada3's, alas ! learning quite 
 masculine matters : it is really dreadful I " 
 
 Adalesa looked older and better in her riding dress 
 than I had yet seen her, and perhaps some consciousness 
 of this had its effect upon her manner. So far, while 
 looking like a child, she had talked like a cynical worldly 
 woman ; but now, as she took her horse skilfully down a 
 difficult rutty lane, her face fanned by the balmy country 
 air, heavy with odours of full-blow^n flowers, and at the 
 same time freshened by the near neighbourhood of the sea, 
 there came a far-away look into the girl's eyes, an expres- 
 sion of )^earning tenderness which culminated, as seemed 
 most natural, in a long-drawn sigh. 
 
 The lane we rode in was a steep'by-way — a short cut 
 to the shore, she said — only just wide enough for our two 
 horses abreast, and so uneven that we had to look well to 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. ^JQ 
 
 their going. On either hand green banks, bedecked with 
 foxglove and harebell, rose high above us and before us, 
 making the winding way look like a cul de sac, and shut- 
 ting out all view save that of the sky above us, a radiant 
 strip of sky, intensely blue — blue like a dark sapphire, and 
 full of colour, which contrasted well with the opaque blue- 
 green of a belt of firs that crowned the summit of the bank 
 and held their heavy plumes up motionless against the 
 brightness. The air was so still that inanimate nature 
 scarcely seemed to breathe; but all about us a myriad atoms 
 of life buzzed, and chirped, and fluttered, rejoicing to be, 
 making the most of their moment, and claiming a kinship 
 with us in inarticulate murmurs, quite untranslatable, and 
 yet becoming curiously comprehensible to some sense the 
 longer we lingered to listen to them. The horses glanced 
 hither and thither with big sagacious eyes, flipping a long 
 ear swiftly towards each separate sound — now to the croak 
 of a yellow frog in the grass, and now to the cheep of a 
 nestling up on a branch, the bleat of an unseen sheep 
 in the meadow above to its lamb, the low of a cow 
 to her calf ; seemingly anxious to understand, nervously 
 glad to know ; gathering the import of everything with 
 an intelligence beyond ours, perhaps, that made them 
 more one with the teeming beings about us than we were. 
 
 But after that sigh Adalesa burst into the midst of my 
 meditation abruptly. 
 
 " Did you ever feel a glow in your chest, and have 
 little warm shivers run down your backbone, and all the 
 time keep smiling?" she demanded. 
 
 " No, never," I answered decidedly. 
 
 " Ah ! then you have never been in love," she observed 
 
so THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 in a disappointed tone. " I thought, perhaps, with those 
 eyes, — and you're not so plump either." 
 
 " I don't see the connection." 
 
 " Why — don't you know ? Oh, I think when girls are 
 plump, like Evangeline, it is because they haven't felt 
 much. Kow, I'm skinny because I have a burning fiery 
 furnace within that consumes me. So many things — 
 interests, passions, affections, — I don't know what all ! are 
 fuel to my fire ; it never goes out." 
 
 " But love ?" I said, shy of the subject, yet aglow 
 
 on a sudden with natural girlish curiosity about it, newly 
 inspired ; for the moment she mentioned love I knew what 
 was in the air. 
 
 She laughed, whipped up her horse, and rode on ahead 
 recklessly. 
 
 When I overtook her we were in the open country, on 
 a hard high road, with a long level of fields on either 
 hand, and not a glimpse of the sea. 
 
 " Where are we ? " 1 asked. 
 
 " Oh, I had forgotten," she answered apologetically. 
 " I was leading you away in the wrong direction. I'm 
 sorry — I was thinking. I was thinking of him ! " and 
 she flipped at the hedge with her whip, and laughed in a 
 shamefaced way. 
 
 "Of whom?" I asked. 
 
 " Of my man," she replied. " Oh, you're obtuse ! 
 Don't you gather? I'm in love. Sometimes I'm sick 
 with love — love-sick. But you don't know what that is, 
 and you're a little shocked ! " She looked at me keenly. 
 " You think I am committing a breach of decorum. So 
 it would be, perhaps, for most girls ; but, don't you 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 81 
 
 see — with me — oh, you must let it be different with 
 
 me 
 
 !" 
 
 The high road was taking us towards a belt of wood 
 now, above which the chimneys of the great house ap- 
 peared, smoking cheerfully. 
 
 " Why, we're going back ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, a little way," she answered. " Tm sorry. I 
 took the wrong turn. We should have gone to the left 
 through the wood, instead of to the right, down that lane. 
 But here we are. I'd better lead the way. Look out for 
 your hat under the branches ! " 
 
 The high road ran through the wood at this point, and 
 was bordered on either side by trees, which looked like a 
 forest of slender masts, canopied and curtained with 
 greenery, through which the sunlight filtered in shining 
 shafts, making mystical pathways of dazzling brightness, 
 beyond which the tender gloom beneath the branches 
 deepened perceptibl}'. Adalesa had turned off under the 
 trees, taking a diagonal course confidently, although there 
 was no track that I could see ; but 1 followed her, now in 
 sunshine and now in shadow, winding in and out about 
 the tree-stems, watchfully, like a princess in a land of 
 weird enchantment, who goes, with wide-open, wistful 
 eyes, seeking to see deep into the verdant shadows, in 
 timidly glad anticipation of something to come that would 
 satisfy the hunger at her heart, that strange importunate 
 ache. 
 
 Branches broken by last year's storms crackled beneath 
 our horses' feet, or their hoofs sank deep in delicious 
 moss. Rabbits ran at our approach, and the shrill cry or 
 clumsy flight of a startled pheasant sounded oddly insult- 
 
82 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 ing, as if uttered to injure the charmed silence. And 
 here again there was life — superabundant, palpitating, 
 generous — a joyous riot, in which we were asked to join 
 by every little living thing that spoke. At first, in the 
 wood, the soothing susurrus of leaves, stirred by light 
 airs, sounded incessantly, a sort of softly whispering 
 sound, all-pervading yet unobtrusive, not the main mel- 
 ody, but a manifold accompaniment. Presently, however, 
 we were seized upon by a mightier voice, muffled at first 
 and murmurous, but growing in distinctness and volume 
 as we advanced ; and at the same time we ceased to see 
 sunshaf ts and shadows through the Avood ; the green 
 depths disappeared ; and now between the trees there 
 sparkled into view the yellow sands and the sea. We had 
 come out upon the shore, and both involuntarily drew 
 rein. 
 
 " Yes," Adalesa resumed, as if there had been no 
 break, "you must let it be different with me. I take 
 everything so severely — measles, whooping cough, mumps, 
 scarlatina — all infantile diseases. Each in its turn has 
 threatened to kill me, and now comes this new fever — 
 love. I had to tell Evangeline even. I should have died 
 if I hadn't said something to some one. But now I am 
 sorry. I wish you had come sooner. Simple Sincerity : 
 you are another sort. If only I hadn't told Evangeline 
 that we are engaged ! " 
 
 " Engaged ! '* I exclaimed. " Secretly 9 " 
 "Yes: isn't it dreadful?" she answered, laughing at 
 my horror. " But it happened in this way. I was stay- 
 ing with his people, and he and I were always together 
 because we were the only young pair on the premises; 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 83 
 
 and at last — oh, the usual thing, you know ! And I 
 wanted to tell Uncle Henry, but he seemed to dislike the 
 idea. My father and mother are in India, you know — 
 that is why lam here; and Percy said, weren't they the 
 proper people to be first informed? They are on their 
 way home by this time, I believe, round the Cape — oh, 
 the weary time of waiting ! months ! And I hate to keep 
 Uncle Henry in the dark. I always tell him everything. 
 But then of course there is Aunt Marsh. If I told him 
 he would make me tell her, and then we should have the 
 affair confided to the whole county in solemn confidence. 
 At least," she corrected herself emphatically, "/ don't be- 
 lieve he would tell her ; he's too good altogether ; and 
 besides, I've told him lots of other things, but I can't 
 make Percy understand, and he says, too, that his know- 
 ing would put the affair on quite a different footing — 
 whatever he may mean by that. I hate concealment my- 
 self; but perhaps he has finer feelings than T have, for 
 he says something about this being altogether sacred to 
 ourselves — not an ordinary concealment. It sounds all 
 right as he puts it ; but I am sadly afraid I don't feel 
 about it quite what he does, because I want to tell. I 
 must talk. My joy bubbles up and bursts out so that I 
 cannot contain it. There's a singing at my heart I can't 
 quite smother ; if only Uncle Henry suspected, he would 
 hear it and question me, and then I should be glad in- 
 deed — satisfied. Xow at times it is only a kind of luilf 
 glad. However, are you relieved ? I am not so sly as 
 you suspected, perliaps." 
 
 " I should never have tliought you sly," I declared. 
 
 " Well, reckless then," she replied, " as when 1 told 
 
84 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 Evangeline. That was an instance of a bubbling up and 
 a bursting out. If I had had Uncle Henry to talk to — 
 but there ! Yet I know Evangeline is not to be trusted, 
 for all her promises." 
 
 " Oh, surely she will not betray you if she promised I" 
 I exclaimed, shocked by the accusation. 
 
 For a moment the cynical expression returned to Ada- 
 lesa's face. 
 
 " It just depends upon what will suit her own con- 
 venience," she answered, with her usual downright direct- 
 ness. 
 
 The horses, tired of standing, sniffed the salt air, 
 tossed their heads, and pawed impatiently. 
 
 " We'll let them go for a gallop in a minute," she said ; 
 " but first, just look at the sea, and listen to it. That 
 inarticulate murmur is full of meaning to me now ; and 
 so it is with the sough of the breeze in the branches and 
 the rustle of leaves. Since he came into my life I have 
 awakened to full consciousness of a curious kinship with 
 all things animate and inanimate. The gladness in me, 
 the singing in my heart, is all a part of some great whole, 
 some universal plan, something I knoio^ but can't express. 
 But wait ! — wait till you know it too ! " 
 
 She had looked down at the sand as she spoke, frown- 
 ing intently in the effort to put what she felt into human 
 speech; and her horse, as if waiting upon her words, 
 ceased for the moment to be restive ; the very sea- voice 
 seemed suspended, and the scene itself — sandhills, and 
 shore, and grey-white, green-crowned cliffs, curving arm- 
 like about the bay, passed from my consciousness. I saw 
 and heard her alone till she stopped ; then the waves rang 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 85 
 
 out their merry murmur, the cliffs whitened into view in 
 tlie sunsliine, the breeze sang in my ears, the open space 
 invited, and our horses, with one accord, as though they 
 felt our own fine impulse to fly, to be free, plunged out 
 from amongst the heavy, dry drifts, on to the smooth, 
 hard sand, and carried us off at a gallop into another 
 world. 
 
 VL 
 
 Evangeline came to my room late that night. We 
 had not had an hour's talk together since my arrival. 
 The moon was near the full, and she found me with my 
 window wide open, luxuriating in the sense of stillness, 
 which is peculiar to the exquisite, shadowy, silent night. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, with a little shiver. " Won't 
 you take cold ? Isn't that mist down there on the mead- 
 ows ? and aren't the trees black ? It is all so comfort- 
 less " 
 
 I shut the window. 
 
 " Ah, that's better ! " Evangeline pursued, as she 
 curled herself up in an easy chair. " I love lays of the 
 moon, and the ecstatic solitudes one reads about ; but 
 the real thing falls far short of the description. I be- 
 lieve those rhapsodies are written in bed at night, with 
 the curtains drawn, and a big fire blazing. At all events, 
 that's the best way to read them. One forgets then, as the 
 poet seems to have forgotten, all the unpleasant details 
 — that it is chilly out in the merry moonlight ; fatiguing 
 to linger or loiter long, though it sounds so nice ; and 
 too damp to sit, couch, or recline on anytliing growing or 
 blowing. I love poetry, but preserve me from having to 
 *'■' \ ct .^ ■■ 
 
 / ^^ or THE 
 
 : UNIVERSITY i 
 
86 TUE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 live it ! Cushions and comfort are my delight, ease is my 
 ambition, and all things ordered to please me by some 
 competent person as long as I live, my one desire ! " 
 
 She cooed all this so prettily that I began to draw an 
 invidious comparison between the sound of her words and 
 of Adalesa's. The sense did not impress me. The gen- 
 tleness of her manner, the sweetness of her voice, and the 
 charm of her appearance disarmed criticism. One felt at 
 rest in her presence ; one did not think. 
 
 She left the easy chair, and came and sat down beside 
 me. " Pet me," she said, putting her arms around me. 
 *' I don't seem to have seen you at all since you came ; and 
 oh, I have such lots of things I want to talk to you about. 
 How pretty your neck is ! — just like a baby's. I must 
 kiss it ! I could eat you, I think, you're so sweet ! But 
 you're not very responsive, I must say ! I believe you like 
 Adalesa best. Tell me, do you ? I should be so miserable 
 if I thought you did. But what do you think of her ? " 
 
 " I think her delightful." 
 
 " So she is," Evangeline answered, returning to her 
 chair. " But isn't it rather a pity, when she's so nice, that 
 she shouldn't be perfect ? She does say and do such out- 
 rageous things. She has gone and engaged herself secret- 
 ly." This breach of confidence slipped out so easily and 
 so naturally that I should have hesitated at the moment 
 to apply any harsh epithet to it. " Yes," she pursued ; " I 
 met the man in London afterwards, and now he has be- 
 come quite an ally of mine. When he found I knew all 
 about the affair, he said he was glad, and would like to 
 discuss it with me. You do believe, don't you, that men 
 and women can have Platonic friendships ? I think it so 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. 87 
 
 cynical for people not to believe in disinterestedness, lie 
 says he loves to talk to me ; and of course there can be 
 no harm when it is all about another girl. What do you 
 think ? " 
 
 " I think I'm inclined to be sorry for the other girl." 
 
 " Oh, now that is not nice of you ! " she said reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 " Well, the things that are said about the kind of man 
 who spends all his time with one girl in order to talk 
 about another, are not nice either." 
 
 " Oh, but I'm sure you would never judge a man by 
 the unkind things people say ! " She said this so earnest- 
 ly, so caressingly, she made me feel mean. *' And, besides," 
 she went on gravely, " I don't think he is quite satisfied, 
 somehow. It is not that he says anything, you know, only 
 he makes me fancy — and I think it just as well that the 
 engagement was not announced. If there is any change 
 — if nothing comes of it, you know, nothing can be said. 
 I only tell you about it in confidence, because I know you 
 are safe, and I did so want to consult some one. You 
 see, he confided in me, and asked my advice, and I feel 
 it is such a responsibility. But perhaps Adalesa told you 
 
 herself. I thought she might, as you get on so well " 
 
 She stopped here, and looked at me expectantly, but as I 
 only replied with a steady stare, she demanded, point- 
 blank : " Did she ? " 
 
 " How can you ask ? " I answered without emphasis, 
 so as not to betray my friend ; and I saw that she was 
 baffled, but she did not like to repeat the question. 
 
88 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Evangeline had been complaining of some mysteri- 
 ous pain in her arm, and the next day a famous physician 
 who was staying in the neighbourhood came to see her. 
 He was brought to our sitting-room, and I helped Evan- 
 geline, at her mother's request, to take off her bodice, to 
 enable him to see what was the matter with the pretty 
 limb. It was evident that the old gentleman was inter- 
 ested in his charming patient, his manners, which were 
 naturally suave, took on such an obviously extra shade of 
 delicate, courtly consideration. Standing a little apart 
 with Adalesa, I became deeply interested in his method 
 of inquiring into the cause of the trouble ; but he talked 
 about " the long bone of the arm," until at last, bored by 
 the repetition, I ventured to vary the monotony for him 
 by suggesting the word humerus aside to her. 
 
 The doctor overheard me, however. " Oh — hem — ha 
 — yes," he observed deliberately, giving me to understand 
 at the same time, with a look, that I had sunk low in his 
 estimation ; after which he took no further notice of me. 
 
 " I am afraid you offended the doctor, dear," Lady 
 Marsh said afterwards. " You really must be careful by 
 what names you call things. You see, any indelicacy in 
 a young lady shocks a refined and cultivated man." 
 
 " But humerus is the proper name of the bone," I ven- 
 tured, with a faint flicker of spirit, in spite of the softly 
 smothery effect of her manner. 
 
 " We do not call things by their proper names," she 
 answered with gentle dignity. 
 
 " But is it really more delicate to call it the long bone 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 89 
 
 of the arm ? " I exclaimed. " Do forgive me for pestering 
 you, dear Lady Marsh," I added, seeing a shade of dis- 
 approval on her face ; " but I am always being met witli 
 queer contradictions and singular gradations of right and 
 wrong, and the effort to understand them wearies my 
 brain." 
 
 " Of course ! " she exclaimed, triumphantly. " That 
 is what I and any sensible person would have foreseen. 
 A young girl's brain must suffer if she studies subjects 
 only fit for men." 
 
 When we were alone, Adalesa asked me what I thought 
 no}v of her sweet Aunt Marsh. 
 
 " I am trying to allow for opposite points of view," I 
 answered, laughing. 
 
 But in my heart I acknowledged that Adalesa had 
 not exaggerated ; for the mental agonies that perfectly 
 delightful woman caused me to suffer, on account of the 
 difference between her point of view and that from which 
 I had been brought up, no one who has not been a girl 
 under similar circumstances can possibly conceive. I be- 
 gan to wonder at last, when I got up in the morning, 
 what I should blunder about that day ; and from the easy 
 absence of self-consciousness which comes of living among 
 people who encourage discussion and allow the most ex- 
 treme differences of opinion as a matter of course, I be- 
 came so nervous that I shrank from speaking at all, or if 
 by chance I did commit myself, I would have recanted 
 every syllable in my extreme timidity rather than suffer 
 the disapproval I detected in the attitude of those about 
 me. Lady Marsh laboured incessantly to repair the 
 errors of my education ; and often she talked for an hour 
 
90 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 without provoking me to say anything offensive, but the 
 moment she interested me, the moment she roused me to 
 think for myself, I was lost. The duty of being a social 
 success was one of her favourite themes; and she con- 
 sidered it the beginning of wisdom for a woman to make 
 herself attractive. So did my mother ; but when it came 
 to ways and means, their principles Avere diametrically 
 opposed to each other. Lady Marsh often talked to us 
 girls earnestly on the subject, her teaching, as I now per- 
 ceive, having been a fair mixture of worldly wisdom and 
 amiable foolishness. So far as our conversation was con- 
 cerned, it might be summed up in the advice : never to 
 dispute ; never utter an emphatic word ; talk principally 
 about little things that have happened ; to recount and to 
 listen well is the great thing ; men like to be listened to ; 
 but as we valued our reputations for womanliness we were 
 never to express opinions. It was really better not to 
 have any. Men do not care about women who have 
 opinions. But it was upon the subject of personal ap- 
 pearance that she was greatest. A girl who was good- 
 looking was a matter of grave importance to her, and she 
 would appraise the marriage-market value of us all quite 
 seriously, but never would have allowed the calculation 
 to be defined by any such expression. She would have 
 called it " considering our prospects of happiness." She 
 expected Evangeline, whom she considered a poem in 
 appearance, to make a brilliant match ; and she was gra- 
 ciously pleased to express some hope for me too : " Only 
 you must be careful, dear. Don't let a man imagine for 
 a moment that you have ever thought about anything." 
 But for Adalesa she had little hope. " She might marry 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 91 
 
 a Radical Member, or something of that sort," she said 
 to me confidentially one day, but she spoke dubiously. 
 " She is so thin, you see," she added. 
 
 We were waiting with Evangeline for tea in the draw- 
 insr-room, and Adalesa herself came in at that moment 
 with her bull pup under her arm. 
 
 " I'm the thin party, I expect," she said, her dark eyes 
 dancing mischievously. 
 
 " Party ^ dear child ! " Lady Marsh ejaculated. " What 
 an expression for a young lady ! " 
 
 *' Diddums, den ! " Adalesa said to the bull pup. " Just 
 look at him, auntie, how he wrinkles his forehead." 
 
 " I wish, dear, you would not bring that creature into 
 the drawing-room ; he is not a proper pet for a young 
 lady." 
 
 " But, Aunt Marsh, men love sporting dogs," Adalesa 
 remonstrated, with an injured air. " And he'll be what I 
 never shall, and that's a beauty of his kind." 
 
 " You make a great mistake," Lady Marsh answered. 
 " Any girl not absolutely ugly may be good-looking if she 
 will, and you might be most elegant with that slender 
 figure if you chose. And then also manner goes a good 
 way. A girl with a very gentle, rather timid manner is ir- 
 resistible to most men. Men like women to be dependent 
 and clinging. And further, I know, for a fact, that if you 
 bring up a girl to be a beauty she will develop into one.'* 
 
 " It's odd that you should say that," Adalesa answered 
 ambiguously, " for I was just thinking something of the 
 same sort. I was thinking if you bring up a girl to be 
 wise she will be wise ; but the custom is to bring up a 
 girl to be a fool." 
 7 
 
92 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " Your mother used to be a lovely girl," Lady Marsh 
 said to me, pointedly ignoring Adalesa. " I suppose she 
 wishes her daughters to be beautiful." 
 
 " My mother does not despise beauty, but she considers 
 it a charming incident, that cannot last, rather than a 
 serious object in life," I blundered. 
 
 A solemn silence followed upon this, which Lady 
 Marsh broke at last by remarking to Evangeline, with sig- 
 nificant sweetness, — 
 
 " There is something wrong about that dress at the 
 waist, dearest. It drags." 
 
 " I'll tighten my stays, mamma," Evangeline answered 
 amiably. 
 
 "You'll make your nose red if you do — or hust!^^ 
 Adalesa observed, with her mouth full of cake. 
 
 " Adalesa, how can you ! " her aunt remonstrated. 
 
 It was interesting to see Evangeline expand sympa- 
 thetically under her mother's teaching. Her mind im- 
 bibed it with reverence as well as with relish, but to what 
 it would be transformed when it was thoroughly assimi- 
 lated, girls like ourselves could not foresee. From a chance 
 remark of Sir Henry's, however, I gathered that he had 
 his doubts about its being a soul-making substance. 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Lady Marsh was by way of doing her best for us, as 
 the society mothers delicately express it, and one of the 
 delights of that visit was to be a ball. 
 
 The joy of that ball began for us from the first moment 
 it was discussed. In a matter of that kind Lady Marsh 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 03 
 
 knew how to make girls happy, and she let us arrange it 
 all ourselves and choose our own dresses. We sent to 
 town for specimen programmes, and drew up a formal invi- 
 tation, which we had printed ; and when the cards arrived 
 we spent a long delicious morning in our sitting-room 
 addressing them. There were no improving books about 
 on that occasion. The table was covered with invitations 
 and envelopes, and we all three talked nineteen to the 
 dozen as we addressed the latter, making many mistakes 
 in our eagerness and glee, and giving ourselves much 
 unnecessary trouble ; but it was all a part of the pleasure. 
 
 Lady Marsh came in during the morning, and found 
 the floor strewed with evidences of these mistakes; but 
 she only smiled indulgently. 
 
 Then came the discussion about the dresses. We de- 
 cided upon red, white, and blue. Adalesa's was to be red, 
 with coral ornaments, because of her dark eyes and hair, 
 and olive skin. Pale passion colour, she chose, and it 
 looked like an expression of herself. Evangeline's was to 
 be white — white satin with tulle and pearls, the kind of 
 conventional thing a 3'oung lady looks her loveliest in ; 
 and also, perhaps, in that it was conventional, an exact 
 expression of herself. Mine was to be pale blue; "Be- 
 cause of your white skin, my dear," Adalesa said. " And 
 also because simple sincerity should be in true blue. 
 Your ornaments must be turquoise and pearls and dia- 
 monds. Do you happen to have any ? " 
 
 I laughed, as at an absurdity, for I was not an heiress. 
 
 The discussion about the dresses took place at luncheon 
 one day, and Sir Henry paid much amused attention to 
 our chatter. 
 
94 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 "But where are you to get these fine gowns?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Where are we to get the money for them, you mean ? '* 
 said Adalesa. 
 
 Sir Henry looked at Lady Marsh expressively, and 
 then Lady Marsh beamed round upon us : " My dears, / 
 am going to give you your dresses," she said. 
 
 The next excitement was the coming of the answers to 
 the invitations. Adalesa slipped up to me shyly one 
 morning, with very bright eyes and very pale cheeks. 
 " He has accepted," she said, in a breathless whisper. 
 " He is coming." The words were gasped between two 
 sighs, heavy with heart-beats. From that time the tire- 
 some child in her slumbered and slept. She never " drew " 
 Aunt Marsh now, and she had rolled up her elf-locks and 
 left off short petticoats. She was feverishly flushed for 
 the most part, but she was very quiet, and would steal 
 away alone for a ramble through the woods or a ride by 
 the sea : " To listen to the voices," as she said ; " to be 
 one with Nature, which Jcnoivs " 
 
 Evangeline also knew that " he " was coming, and men- 
 tioned the matter with a self-satisfied smile : " dear ! I 
 suppose I shall be called upon again to resolve doubts and 
 difficulties," she observed. 
 
 " You don't mean that he will take you into his confi- 
 dence when she is here ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 She smiled again enigmatically. " Well, really — one 
 never knows," she said. " I can't think how it could ever 
 have happened. But, there ! you know Adalesa. Wait 
 till you see him, and then judge if she is suitable. It is so 
 lucky, I think, the engagement was never announced." 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 95 
 
 She smiled complacently when she had spoken, then 
 blushed at nothing, and finally ran away laughing. I 
 could not make her out. 
 
 Our lovely dresses arrived some days before the event, 
 and were duly doted upon. It seemed as if our delight 
 had culminated in them, and could rise no higher ; but 
 when we went to dress for dinner on the eventful day it- 
 self, three cries of joy, uttered simultaneously in our three 
 respective rooms, announced yet another item added to 
 our ecstasy, for there, on our dressing-tables, a present 
 from Sir Henry, were the very jewels Adalesa had de- 
 scribed as essential to complete our happiness. 
 
 When we were dressed we ran down to the drawing-room 
 together, with our arms round each other, red, white, and 
 blue, all silk, satin, and tulle, to be inspected, only ex- 
 pecting to see the old people ; but there, on the hearth- 
 rug, stock a romantic-looking young man, tall, with deep 
 dark eyes, a stranger to me, but I knew in a moment 
 who it was. I had met him in many books, and dreamt 
 about him too. I knew him first by the way Evangeline 
 started and Adalesa hung back. My own heart beat to suf- 
 focation when his eyes met mine ; but what with dresses 
 and jewels and joyful anticipations, it was a highly 
 emotional moment with all three of us — this last ele- 
 ment, a young man to admire us, having completed the 
 circle. 
 
 Evangeline was the first to recover herself and greet 
 him, and then she introduced him to me ; and Adalesa, 
 at last, summoning her courage, shyly held out a seem- 
 ingly reluctant hand, the damask rose on her cheeks 
 deepening the while ; but the magnetism of her dark 
 
96 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 eyes was absent from her greeting, as she never raised 
 them from the ground. 
 
 The young man looked from one to the other of us 
 with a kind of pleased surprise. 
 
 " Three Graces, by Jove ! " Sir Henry exclaimed, as he 
 received our thanks. " Impossible to choose between 
 them. I'd turn Mohammedan if I were a young man." 
 
 " Then you wouldn't marry me," Adalesa flashed out 
 at him. 
 
 "That's right, my dear," answered he good-humou red- 
 ly. " I like your spirit and the way you show it. None 
 of your pet pussy-cat girls for me, concealing their claws 
 till they're married. You stick to that — the whole man, 
 body, soul, and spirit, or nothing." 
 
 Several more guests arrived for dinner. Evangeline 
 whispered to her mother. It is strange how one some- 
 times sees the significance of things one cannot hear on 
 occasions of excitement, when all our faculties are on the 
 alert. Until Evangeline spoke to her mother I had not 
 thought of whom Mr. Perceval would take in to dinner, 
 but both question and answer occurred to me on the 
 instant. Evangeline had suggested, and Lady Marsh, not 
 knowing, had acquiesced : he was to take Evangeline in, 
 and, as he offered his arm to her, he looked into her eyes 
 ardently. He looked at me, however, in just the same 
 way a moment later, and I thought, perhaps, that that 
 was his habitual expression ; but all the same I began to 
 feel sore and sorry for Adalesa. 
 
 They sat opposite to me at table, and talked to- 
 gether in undertones confidentially, Evangeline cooing 
 softly and looking lovely all the time, while Adalesa, poor 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 97 
 
 child, a little lower down, out of some growing feelinfy of 
 dissatisfaction, uttered small aggressive raileries in high- 
 pitched tones, doing more damage to her own cause 
 thereby than any one else could have done. I inter- 
 cepted a glance of disapproval from the otlier side of the 
 table, and felt that comparisons were inevitable. Lady 
 Marsh, who was not far from Adalesa, put in an amiable 
 remonstrance at last : — " Now, dearest," she began, smil- 
 ing, " do not rail, it is such a bad habit, and people are so 
 apt to think you mean it — ill-natured people, of course," 
 she hastened, to add generally, beaming round on us all 
 as if begging us to observe that she considered it impossi- 
 ble to include us in such a category. 
 
 But the remonstrance was unfortunate from Lady 
 Marsh's point of view, as its immediate effect was to 
 stimulate Adalesa to one of those flashes of mature opin- 
 ion which her aunt considered so undesirable in a girl : — 
 " Ah, you don't know the value of raillery. Aunt Marsh," 
 she burst out. " I believe myself that it is the railers who 
 do all the good in the world. They are the first cause 
 of a change for the better, because when they don't like 
 things, they have a way of expressing themselves which is 
 so exceedingly disagreeable to those who only want to be 
 content and not think, that the latter are only too glad 
 to accept their suggestions in order to silence them. It 
 is really the heathen railers who keep a spark of religion 
 alight in the land ; they show up the difference between 
 precept and practice, and make the professors ashamed 
 of their own inconsistencies." 
 
 Lady Marsh shook her head solemnly: — "Dear child, 
 what have you been reading now?" she exclaimed, and 
 
98 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 then she meandered off in an undertone to her next neigh- 
 bour on the necessity of supervising a girl's education. 
 
 " Poor Adalesa! " Evangeline murmured, with a dep- 
 recating sigh. " But she is such a child ! And of course 
 she will get over all these exaggerated ideas when she is 
 older and has more sense." 
 
 " With such gentle womanly surroundings she should," 
 he answered, gazing again at Evangeline, whose white 
 bosom heaved with another little sigh. 
 
 " But is it not strange that the sense should be so long 
 in coming," she said, " considering that Adalesa has had 
 
 exactly the same opportunities ?" She stopped, 
 
 blushing alluringly, as if modestly afraid of even having 
 indicated herself. 
 
 After dinner she singled me out for a confidence. 
 "Hasn't he exquisite Oriental eyes?" she said. "And 
 don't you think I succeeded ? " 
 
 " I hope not : how do you mean ? " I stammered. 
 
 " Succeeded in preventing any suspicion," she answered. 
 " I was so afraid mamma might see something." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think you need have alarmed yourself,'* 
 I dryly rejoined. 
 
 " But, now, do you think they are suited ? " she asked, 
 in a tenderly anxious tone. 
 
 " I think that is altogether their business," I replied. 
 
 She looked at me reproachfully, and then left me. 
 
 Mr. Perceval danced with me several times during the 
 evening, and towards the end of the ball we were engaged 
 for another dance ; but when the time came I was tired, 
 so we decided to sit it out. His manner the whole even- 
 ing had shocked and offended me, as the manner of a 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 99 
 
 married man who wanted to flirt would have done. He 
 was Adalesa's property, and yet I felt 'that upon the slight- 
 est encouragement he would have made love to me ; and I 
 had an uncomfortable doubt as to how far he might not 
 actually have gone with Evangeline, which proved that 
 my faith in her was shaken. I judged him harshly then — 
 I think I could have called him a villain — but now all I 
 feel is a sort of amused contempt for him for acting after 
 his kind, an ordinary animal kind. He was a common- 
 place young man in the mood for marriage, and would 
 have made any one of us three that had chanced to accept 
 him a good and agreeable husband — or rather his wife 
 would have made him pretty much what she pleased. 
 
 Because of my suspicion of him I chose to sit in the 
 ball-room so as not to give him a chance ; and, finding I 
 would not flirt, he sat beside me quietly, and turned his 
 attention to Evangeline and Adalesa, who were dancing, 
 observing them closely and comparing them, as I suspected 
 — a comparison which was far from fair to Adalesa at that 
 age ; for she was one of those girls who, in appearance, 
 mature late. Her active mind gave her slender body no 
 leisure to cushion itself with redundant plumpness. Evan- 
 geline might, as her mother maintained, be a poem in ap- 
 pearance, but Adalesa was one in fact in spite of her angles. 
 This ordinary young man, however, with only an ideal of 
 fleshly perfection in his mind and before his eyes, was not 
 likely to suspect it ; and, even if he had, what pleasure 
 would it have been to him, or profit, seeing that he had 
 no capacity to appreciate a poem ? 
 
 Judged, too, merely upon that kind of observation, 
 there was another point against Adalesa. She did not 
 
100 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 waltz well, but Evangeliue floated like thistledown above 
 the boards. Adalesa soon wearied of waltzing ; she 
 thought it monotonous, and only went on to the end of 
 the ball to make herself useful. She excelled, however, 
 in a higher branch of the art, to her aunt's horror. We 
 should call it skirt-dancing now, and be applauded for the 
 accomplishment; but at that time it was a nameless 
 enormity for a young lady to indulge in. Adalesa, never- 
 theless, would take her castanets sometimes, and give us 
 an entrancing benefit of " woven paces and of waving 
 arms " ; but Lady Marsh regularly put down this exhibi- 
 tion when she caught her at it ; and it was hardly likely 
 the young man knew of the accomplishment, nor could 
 one expect him to appreciate the self-sacrifice Adalesa was 
 making when she accepted one eligible partner after an- 
 other the whole evening, " boring herself to one, two, 
 three, turn, for the good of the house," as she elegantly 
 expressed it. 
 
 There came to me a curious fancy as I watched those 
 girls. I seemed to see the soul of each through the casing 
 of finery and flesh that enveloped them. 
 
 " One of the two is as good as gold without alloy," I 
 said to Perceval ; " but the other is " 
 
 " An inferior compound ? " he suggested ; " and I 
 know which it is." 
 
 But he looked at the wrong one ; and I let him, for I 
 did not think him worth pure gold, for all his " exquisite 
 Oriental eyes." 
 
 When the dance was over he left me, and Adalesa took 
 his place. It had been pathetic to watch her during the 
 evening. Her eyes had been eloquent at first of shy ex- 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. 101 
 
 pectation, half joyful, half frightened ; but then came sur- 
 prise and inquiry ; then an interregnum of blankness, no 
 explanation occurring to her ; and now the expression was 
 altogether pained. 
 
 " My heart is heavy within me," she said, in a whisper- 
 ing way she had, which made me think of the soft sighing 
 of summer air through the leaves. " He seems to have 
 forgotten." 
 
 From where we sat I particularly noticed one of the 
 decorations of the ball-room — a great palm, standing in a 
 corner between a window and a door, and all in shadow 
 with the exception of one long leaf, which it held to the 
 light, one glossy dark green leaf, that shone and quivered 
 like a sentient thing in the fitful airs set in motion by the 
 whirl of the dancers. It seemed to be taking its part in 
 the revel with delight. It had its moments of excitement 
 when the music went mad towards the end of a dance, and 
 the pace became frantic. Then it would flutter fan-like 
 with pennants streaming in time to the tune, and only 
 gradually cease to wave as the room emptied, after the 
 crash of the final chords. I was fascinated by the emo- 
 tions of that leaf, or rather its demonstrations of emotion, 
 and found myself gauging the success of the entertain- 
 ment by it. When the spirit of the ball was at its highest, 
 there seemed to be an extra shine on its glossy surface, but 
 as the night waned and exhaustion began to sap the ener- 
 gy of the dancers, the dust settled and the leaf grew dim. 
 It quivered still as the rooms thinned, but no longer 
 waved ; and when the last carriage had driven away I 
 found it drooping in the vitiated air. Tliere was a lounge 
 beneath it, and on this Evangeline, who was also droop- 
 
102 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 ing by this time, had thrown herself. I had seen her, 
 during the evening, sitting there with Perceval, laugh- 
 ing and looking into his eyes. The arm of the plant 
 was held out over her then, but whether menacingly or 
 whether to protect her, I could not tell. It might have 
 had an evil spirit in it encouraging her to her destruc- 
 tion, or a good one warning her back ; and my imagina- 
 tion busied itself with both possibilities. I longed to be 
 allowed to look into the future for a moment, so that I 
 might see enough to interpret the sign; but my soul 
 yearned and ached on in that direction vainly : it was 
 all impenetrably dark. From that moment, however, the 
 great glossy plume of the palm seemed somehow to be 
 specially associated with Evangeline, and before I saw 
 them drooping together I had felt that I should find her 
 there. 
 
 Lady Marsh had retired by that time, the men were in 
 the smoking-room, and only we three girls were left of 
 the brilliant crowd that had flaunted there so short a time 
 before. Scraps of ribbon and lace and tulle, torn gloves 
 and faded flowers, bedraggled flotsam and jetsam of the 
 ball, strewed the floor. At the farther end of the room a 
 servant was putting out the lights. 
 
 "I am tired to death," Evangeline said, with a 
 yawn. 
 
 " Tired, but happy, I hope ? " Adalesa answered, with 
 peculiar gentleness. 
 
 Evangeline looked sharply at her, doubtless to see if 
 she meant it, before she replied with effusion : " Oh, yes, 
 darling, thank you. I have enjoyed myself ! I hope we 
 all have ! But I'm dying of hunger." 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. IO3 
 
 I went with Adalesa to fetch something to eat from 
 the supper- room, and at the same time I brought a jug of 
 water for the palm. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Perceval had come down for the dance, and was to 
 stay a few days. He was in every way an eligible, and 
 Lady Marsh was exceedingly gracious to him ; but I could 
 see that Sir Henry was inspecting him critically, as if he 
 were not sure of him, and our attitude towards the young 
 man also came in for a share of Sir Henry's attention. 
 Mine was morose, I confess ; in Adalesa's eyes was per- 
 petual pained inquiry ; only Evangeline was natural and 
 happy. She was extra gentle, and gracious too, as if 
 amiably disposed to atone for what must have looked like 
 our shortcomings. 
 
 The morning after the great event we did nothing but 
 discuss the ball. At luncheon, however. Sir Henry sug- 
 gested that we should go out : " Rest is the right thing 
 after a dance," he said, " and then exercise in the open 
 air. You four young people should go for a ride." 
 
 Evangeline put on a pretty little pout. " I am afraid 
 / can't," she said, in a heigh-ho tone. " My horse has 
 gone to be shod." 
 
 " I wondered why you insisted on sending him this 
 morning," Adalesa muttered. 
 
 " But why shouldn't you three go without me ? " Evan- 
 geline said sweetly. 
 
 "Why shouldn't yoii ride some other horse?" Sir 
 Henry asked, rather sternly. 
 
 "Nothing would induce me to," she answered with 
 
104 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 her set smile, looking him full in the face ; after which 
 she rose with an easy, unconstrained air, carefully brushed 
 a crumb from the front of her dress, and left the room, 
 humming a little tune. 
 
 Adalesa had also risen from the table. 
 
 " What are we going to do ? " I asked, following her 
 into the hall. 
 
 " Nothing," she answered, sombrely. " Evangeline is 
 going to carry out some manoeuvre of her own." 
 
 " Adalesa ! " Lady Marsh called. 
 
 We returned to the dining-room. The two old people 
 were still at table, but Perceval was standing at one of the 
 open windows, looking out into the garden. 
 
 " Just run upstairs, dear child," Lady Marsh added, 
 " and see if you can find my yellow-and-black sunshade. 
 It's somewhere, I'm sure." 
 
 Adalesa complied without a word, but she sauntered 
 off slowly, as if reluctant to go. 
 
 " That child is so ungracious at times," Lady Marsh 
 observed to Sir Henry in a stage aside. " She compares 
 unfavourably with Evangeline, I am afraid. Evangeline 
 is always so sweetly unselfish and good." 
 
 Sir Henry pursed up his mouth, and toyed with a 
 glass on the table. Perceval's back was turned to us, but 
 I fancied I saw him stiffen to attention when Lady Marsh 
 mentioned Evangeline, and I believed the young man had 
 heard and marked, for all the air of indifference with 
 which he affected to look out over the lawn. 
 
 It was one of those radiant days when one seems to see 
 the heat throbbing in the crystal atmosphere. The gar- 
 den borders were a blaze of colour. The odour of mignon- 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 105 
 
 ette streamed in through the open windows. Perceval 
 looked out sleepily a little longer; then suddenly the 
 dreamy look in his eyes gave way to a flash of interest. 
 He said something about fetching a hat, and left the room 
 as if with a purpose. Evangeline had appeared on the 
 other side of the lawn, lingering among the roses, with a 
 pair of scissors in her hand ; but, judging by the way she 
 lifted a heavy bud here, touching it tenderly, or stooped 
 to inhale the fragrance of a full-blown flower there, she 
 was reluctant to gather them. Perhaps she thought it 
 cruel to shorten their pretty lives ! At all events she hesi- 
 tated, and in that attitude she made a charming picture ; 
 and I am sure Perceval must have thought so as he crossed 
 the lawn. She had apparently not heard him approach, 
 for she started and blushed when he accosted her, then 
 looked up and said something in her winning way, to 
 which he responded smiling. Then they turned off down 
 a shady alley together, and disappeared from sight. 
 
 Adalesa returned without the parasol, but Lady Marsh 
 did not seem disturbed because she had failed to find it. 
 
 The whole day passed, looking like other days on the 
 surface, and the night with its heavy shadows settled 
 down silently. When we went to bed I hoped Adalesa 
 would come to my room and talk the trouble out, and I 
 waited awhile, but as she did not come I went to her. 
 She had taken oflf her dress, and was standing at her win- 
 dow looking out. Her bull dog sat beside her on the 
 floor, leaning against her and looking up at her sympa- 
 thetically. I was oppressed by a horrid sense of things 
 gone wrong, and he seemed to be suffering from the 
 same. 
 
106 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 *' I thought I had said good-night to you," Adalesa 
 muttered, turning on me as I entered. 
 
 " I hoped you would come to my room," I replied. 
 
 She looked at me intently from under her dark eye- 
 brows ; but I doubt if she saw me. 
 
 " He has not spoken," she said at last. " He treats 
 me as if we had never met before. That is all there is to 
 tell you. Now go : excuse me, but 1 am better alone. I 
 want to think." 
 
 The dog whined and nestled up closer, and the sound 
 of a great, deep, human sigh, almost a moan, accompanied 
 me down the dark corridor as I returned to my room. 
 
 But my nerves were strained by that time. My own 
 breath came in a succession of sighs ; and, in order to 
 tranquillise myself, I went and sat by the open window, 
 and leant out, looking at the misty margins of the moon- 
 lit spaces, and listening to the inarticulate murmurs of 
 the night. Very soon the sense of silence settled upon 
 my spirit soothingly, and I was beginning to feel as if I 
 could lie down and rest, when all at once my attention 
 was quickened by a sharp sound from below — the sound 
 of gravel crunched by a springy footstep. I knew who it 
 was before I saw her. What was she going to do ? And 
 oh, what a waste of good emotion upon a worthless object 
 all this seemed ! 
 
 I had taken off my evening dress when I came up- 
 stairs, and now had only to slip on a cap and a pair of 
 walking shoes, which I did not wait to lace, and snatch a 
 long cloak from my wardrobe, and I was ready to follow 
 her. I had to put the cloak on and button it as I went, 
 but I was in time to see which road she took. It was the 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. 107 
 
 road through the wood to the sea. She had on her short- 
 est gown again, with her elf-locks hanging, and nothing 
 on her head. Her faithful brindle, rubbing up against 
 her still, endeavoured to keep pace with her, snuffling as 
 he went. I could hear him. But she took no notice of 
 him. She was looking on ahead with the same kind of 
 look, I imagined, as that with which she had greeted me 
 when I went to her room ; yet her gait was not at all 
 agitated, but rather lingering, as if she were taking the 
 air in a leisurely way. Had I not known she was in trou- 
 ble I should have supposed that she was enjoying the 
 novelty of being out alone at that hour. It was dark in 
 the wood, but she seemed sure of the way, and walked on 
 confidently until she passed out from under the trees on 
 to the sand-dunes. Here she paused a moment, looking 
 up to where, on the left, the tall cliffs rose bold and black 
 against the night sky. On in front the moonlight silvered 
 the sea. It was a desolate scene. The tide was a long 
 way out. For a moment I thought she was going to turn 
 back, but she was merely looking about her before she 
 went a little farther on and sat herself down on the shore. 
 Her dog nestled closer, and uttered a piteous " Whuff!" 
 and then she looked at him for the first time, and put her 
 arm round him, and rested her cheek on his big broad 
 forehead, which seemed to satisfy him. 
 
 I made a little detour to the right among the sand- 
 hills, and stole up closer, so as to see her without being 
 seen. She was gazing at the broad path of light made by 
 the moon on the water. She was passionately fond of her 
 father, and that was the way he would come. Did she 
 
 remember? 
 
 8 
 
108 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 The wind soughed among the sandhills, rustling the 
 rank grass. The eternal sea-song sounded afar off, muf- 
 fled, monotonous, yet mighty in that it was eternal. It 
 made me wonder once more if the sufferings of such 
 ephemeral specks in the great universe as we are could 
 possibly signify. AVe seemed so unimportant, out there 
 on the barren sands, that, for the first time for twenty- 
 four hours, I ceased to care what became of us. I lay my 
 length upon the dry, white sand, pillowing my head upon 
 my folded arms in front of me, inhaling deep draughts of 
 the sea-sweet air and rejoicing in its healthy fragrance. 
 Then for awhile I w^atched the gem-like stars shine out in 
 the radiant blue dark above me, and saw the shadows shift 
 upon the cliffs, and the sea approaching. By that light 
 the wavelets showed black-grey, like shining flints, wdth 
 clialk-white rims for crests. When Adalesa sat down 
 they were too far off to be distinguished except as a dark, 
 moving mass, relieved by burnished sparks and flashes of 
 moonlight ; but before she rose they were close upon her ; 
 the moon had set, the stars were extinguished, and low 
 down in the east the grey dawn shone primrose and green 
 and white shot with flame in opaline splendour. 
 
 X. 
 
 I BELIEVE in my heart that Sir Henry, in his quiet 
 way, had more real sympathy with us girls, and more 
 comprehension of us, than Lady Marsh, for all her 
 demonstrations. It was to him I should have gone in 
 any trouble rather than to her, I know ; and I suppose 
 Adalesa felt the same ; for when she crawled down next 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 109 
 
 morning, very late, she encountered me in the hall, and 
 asked me where he was, and then,, slipping her hand 
 through my arm, drew me along with her to look for 
 him. He was sitting alone in the dining-room in an easy- 
 chair, reading a newspaper, which he put down when we 
 entered. Adalesa went up to him and kissed him, and 
 then sat herself down on the arm of his chair. She 
 moved listlessly, as if there were no life left in her, and 
 looked ill, and I could see that her uncle observed her 
 with particular attention as she approached. 
 
 "You did not come down to breakfast," he said 
 tentatively. 
 
 "No," she answered. Then she put her arm round 
 his neck, and rested her cheek on his head. " I don't 
 want to come down again," she added, with an effort. 
 " I want to go away from here — at once." 
 
 Sir Henry seemed to reflect. " What is the matter, 
 little girl ? " he said at last. " Any thing mentiouable? " 
 
 " No," she answered. " I want to go and meet my 
 father. If you will telegraph to Aunt Morris she will be 
 glad to have me. I want to wait for him there, in town." 
 
 Again Sir Henry took time to reflect. " Well," he 
 said at last, slowly, "you shall go, and at once too, if you 
 like." 
 
 He looked at me when she left us. " You know what 
 is wrong, I suppose ? " he said. 
 
 " Nothing mentionable," I answered. 
 
 He smiled at the retort, and then shook his head. 
 " Not mentionable," he repeated — " no, nor visible. One 
 scents it, though, without seeing it. One feels it in the 
 air. It is knowable without being nameable. But if one 
 
110 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 could name it one would call it " He gave me one of 
 
 his shrewd glances. 
 
 " Treachery," I blurted out. " Robbery with violence 
 — and you will be sanctioning it with a blessing by- 
 and-by." 
 
 He seemed amused at my vehemence. " It is contrary 
 to the law to condemn without proof," he said. " I am 
 here to administer the law, and if I am not furnished 
 with any proof of guilt, I must acquit." 
 
 And so it seemed, for my tongue was tied. 
 
 I should have expected fight rather than flight from 
 Adalesa ; but perhaps some sense of the unworthiness of 
 such a contest restrained her, for the girl was self- 
 respecting. 
 
 She left us early that afternoon, " to await her father's 
 arrival in town " — which was great nonsense, Lady Marsh 
 said, since it was so uncertain when he would come ; but 
 Adalesa could do what she liked with her uncle, and 
 when he ordered there was nothing for it but to obey. 
 
 Late that night Evangeline came to my room in a 
 flutter. " It is just as I suspected," she burst out. " He 
 has told me all about it. He never really loved her. 
 But he did not know his own mind until " 
 
 " Until you stepped in ? " 
 
 " Until she went off in that heartless way to-day. He 
 was afraid she might care for him, but you see for your- 
 self no20 ! So he has written to tell her he understands 
 by her going that she wishes to be released, and therefore 
 he offers to release her. He didn't utter a word of re- 
 proach, I know, for he showed me the letter." 
 
 *' Noble creature ! " I ejaculated. 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. HI 
 
 " Is he not ! " she exclaimed with enthusiasm. " And 
 — oh, don't be cold and. horrid ! " She caught my arm 
 and fairly shook me in her wild excitement. " Do con- 
 gratulate me ! " 
 
 " What, so soon ? " I cried aghast. 
 
 " Oh, you wonH understand," she rejoined, wringing 
 her hands. "Yet you know, you must know, that a 
 young man may make a mistake. They were utterly 
 unsuited. It is all for the best. They would only have 
 made each other miserable." 
 
 " Well, perhaps you are right," I said, upon reflection. 
 " Adalesa is certainly difficult. And she is far above the 
 average too. But I shall wait for the second part of the 
 piece before I offer any of you my congratulations." 
 
 " You are horrid ! " Evangeline exclaimed, with tears 
 of mortification in her eyes. "And now I know why 
 some of the girls at school said nasty things about you." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 " I have lived long enough : my way of life 
 Is fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf." 
 
 XL 
 
 It arrived to me, as the French phrase it, to wait once 
 more for a midday train at that same station from which 
 I journeyed on the occasion when Adalesa and I had first 
 encountered each other, and to lose myself — and my train 
 again, very nearly — in the contemplation of the crowd 
 about me. Pullman cars had come into existence by this 
 
112 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 time ; and instead of coming to in a third-class compart- 
 ment, as on that first occasion, I awoke in my rightful 
 place in one of these ; and, on looking out of the window 
 on my left, saw something familiar in the shifting scene 
 that recalled the bygone time with a flash. Involuntarily 
 I glanced to the opposite end of the carriage ; and there, 
 on the same side as myself, facing me, sat a slender, ele- 
 gant woman, whose dark eyes met mine with a look of in- 
 quiry, which resulted in a sudden mutual recognition of 
 each other. We rose simultaneously, and meeting half- 
 way, embraced, there being no spectator, happily, whose 
 presence might have checked the impulse. Adalesa re- 
 turned with me to my corner and sank into the opposite 
 seat. 
 
 " History repeats itself," she said. 
 
 " Only the framework : the details are different," I re- 
 plied, recalling the tall, gaunt girl, who had thrown her- 
 self so recklessly across the intervening space, and com- 
 paring her with this richly-dressed woman, whose every 
 move was marked with a slow, deliberate grace, as capti- 
 vatinsr as it was disrnified. " When we first met we had 
 everything to look forward to, but now we must both look 
 back." 
 
 " True," she said. " Yet our destination is the same, 
 I imagine. I am again going to my Aunt Marsh." 
 
 " So am I," I answered, " to welcome Evangeline back 
 from Brazil. I haven't seen her since her marriage. Her 
 husband is something out there, isn't he?" 
 
 " Yes — silver, or diamonds, or something. Dear Per- 
 ceval ! Do you remember him ? But of course you re- 
 member him ! " she concluded, in the old downright way, 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 113 
 
 laughing a little as she spoke. Then she said, with a sigh, 
 seriously, " But if you have not met any of them since the 
 marriage, I am afraid you will see great changes." 
 
 " Changes are what one alwavs seems to be seeins: 
 from the moment one has lived long enough to compare 
 this with that," I answered. " Just now I am conscious 
 of a great change in myself. You didn't notice me ' pea- 
 cocking ' about the station this time, and wonder if I were 
 anybody because of the airs I gave myself." 
 
 Adalesa smiled. 
 
 "And I don't want to read the advertisements any 
 more. Just look at the hideous procession ! I vow I 
 never will use anything that is advertised to death like 
 that." 
 
 " It would be no pleasure to you now to be recog- 
 nised ? " Adalesa asked. 
 
 " Oh, none," I answered. " I caught my train to-day 
 because I heard my name mentioned, and slunk into the 
 carriage for fear my face should also be known. Yet I 
 remember what the joy would have been " 
 
 " Had it come earlier ? But you anticipated it. I re- 
 member so many sayings of yours that show you must 
 have felt you would be known." 
 
 " Tell me about yourself," I put in. 
 
 " Oh, I am distinguished too in my own way," she an- 
 swered, in the old vein. " I lounge about the world, lov- 
 ing my husband, and longing for the babes that never 
 come ; and it is such an extraordinary thing for a duchess 
 to do that I get a kind of credit for it, which I enjoy. 
 You always said I should end by being something ec- 
 centric." ........^ 
 
 f ^ Of THt 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
114 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " What became of Brindle ? " I asked. 
 
 " Poor dear old boy ! " she ejaculated. " He at- 
 tained to an honourable old age, and only lately — left 
 me." 
 
 " Do you remember that night on the shore ? " slipped 
 from me unawares. 
 
 She raised her eyebrows, and looked at me inter- 
 rogatively ; and then I was obliged to confess that I had 
 followed her. "I thought you had some desperate in- 
 tent," I explained, apologetically. 
 
 " Such an idiotic idea would never have occurred to 
 me," she answ^ered bluntly. " It is your old-fashioned 
 peoj^le w^ho do that. I knew even then that there are more 
 emotions than one worth living for, if I did not suspect 
 that even that one, when abortive, might repeat itself per- 
 fectly. The barren sands, with the sea, and the night sky 
 arching over all, invited me, that was all. I stole out to 
 secure the sense of immensity w^hich is sustaining and en- 
 nobling as well as being restful. I thought I should find 
 there w^hat would enable me to renounce — and I succeeded. 
 I am most devoutly thankful to say that I succeeded." 
 She had clasped her hands as she uttered these w^ords, and 
 was silent for a little afterwards. Then her countenance 
 cleared, and she turned to me with the air of one w^ho has 
 put something serious aside, and means to be brighter. 
 " Tell me about yourself," she said. " Why did you 
 never answer my letters ? " 
 
 " For fear of having to do so again ! " I replied. 
 
 " Try another," she said, smiling. 
 
 " Because I had nothing to say." 
 
 " That's no better. Once more." 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 115 
 
 " Well, because I had too much to say." 
 
 " I should think so ! " she ejaculated. 
 
 " And after all," I protested, " I am only an onlooker. 
 I am always an onlooker, with no claim to a personality 
 of my own which would interest my friends. I see and 
 foresee. I have seen the setting of several old ideas, and 
 the dawn of divers new ones. The electric light has come 
 to extinguish the gas, and London is bursting out into 
 flats, huge caravansaries, admirably arranged for the cre- 
 mation of the dead in case of fire. Eternal punishment no 
 longer holds up its head ; and the commercial part of the 
 church enterprise will soon be in a bad way if the priests 
 don't discover that we shall all reappear rich and beauti- 
 ful on earth if we are good. That is all I can think of at 
 this moment." 
 
 Adalesa's eyes twinkled, but she said nothing ; and we 
 both looked out of the window in silence for awhile, the 
 truth being that we were suffering from the pressure of too 
 much to say, so that our words only came out in jerks like 
 water glug-glugging from full bottles. We had not met 
 because I had been abroad so much ; but of course we had 
 received all the important heads of intelligence concerning 
 each other ; and I confess that I crowed when the news 
 came that Adalesa had proved to have been her Aunt 
 Marsh's ugly duckling by marrying a duke. 
 
 At the station we found carriages waiting for us and 
 our servants; Barkins, now a very old man, being on the 
 box of one of them. 
 
 "Ah, Barkins, my friend, how are you?" Adalesa ex- 
 claimed, reaching up to shake hands with him. " So 
 you've come to drive me yourself ? I call that kind j for 
 
il6 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 I know you don't often drive anybody but her ladyship 
 now." 
 
 " Eh," lie rejoined, touching his hat, " I'd be main 
 bad when I didn't come to fetch your grace. You'll not 
 be driving madam there to-day, perhaps?" he added, 
 grinning. 
 
 " Barkins will never forget our first arrival together," 
 Adalesa said, when we were seated. " But, oh, the like in. 
 unlikeness to-day ! Look round : the station — the trees 
 — the fields — the very dust on the road is exactly the 
 same ; but look at us ! My heart contracts ; yet I don't 
 know why, for I am happier now " 
 
 She did not finish the sentence ; but I knew what she 
 meant, for I felt very much the same. There was a cer- 
 tain solemn satisfaction in the feeling, though I cannot 
 explain it; but I would not have had the day that was 
 dead back for all " the tender grace" of it. One change 
 in myself I noticed with interest. The first time I had 
 driven along that road I was all anticipation, but now I 
 found in myself nothing but reflection. The principal 
 events in life lay behind me ; I could think of but little 
 more that there might be to come. 
 
 As we approached the house, I was again struck with 
 the air of affluence about the place. It looked like a toy 
 territory, all spick and span, and there was such an affec- 
 tation of defence about it in the crenelated walls that 
 bounded the chase, and the castellation of every building, 
 from lodge to coach-house, that one almost expected to 
 see ornamental soldiers at regular intervals, ordering arms 
 mechanically. 
 
 Lady Marsh did not come out to meet us this time — 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 117 
 
 another note of change. She found it necessary to save 
 herself as much as possible now. But she rose and came 
 forward to receive us with the stiff haste of age, when we 
 were shown into the drawing-room, embraced us both ten- 
 derly, then held us off from her, each by a hand, looked 
 at us, shook her head, sighed, and looked again, especially 
 at me, whom she had not seen in the interval. While we 
 were greeting each other, Sir Henry came pottering in — 
 oh, so shrunken in appearance, but more benign than 
 ever. Adalesa seized upon him, hugged him, wheeled up 
 a big easy chair for him, and then sat herself down on a 
 stool at his feet, with her arm on his knee. The old 
 man's hand wandered over her head, and rested on her 
 neck, and she took it in hers and held it, after which they 
 both seemed satisfied. 
 
 "Adalesa, darling, it is so sweet to see you again,'* 
 Lady Marsh exclaimed, turning round upon her just as 
 she had settled herself ; " but wouldn't you be more com- 
 fortable in a proper chair ? " 
 
 " We're all right, thank you, dear Aunt Marsh," Ada- 
 lesa said ; and I saw her signal to her uncle by squeezing 
 his hand, upon which he leant back in his chair and 
 looked up at the ceiling abstractedly. But the little scene 
 was reassuring, showing as it did that in point of charac- 
 ter there was no disheartening difference here. 
 
 There were three other ladies present — Lady Parkin- 
 son and Miss Creamer Patterson, both women of prop- 
 erty living in the neighbourhood, who had come to call ; 
 and a Mrs. Crowther, who was staying in the house, a 
 somewhat simpering, excessively-dressed, youngish per- 
 son, the kind of pretty thing who lights up when men 
 
lis THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 are present, but languishes if there are only ladies in the 
 room. 
 
 Before we had well settled ourselves, yet another lady, 
 of much the same age and type as Mrs. Crowther, but 
 looking more animated for the moment, hurried across 
 the lawn, entered by one of the open windows, and pro- 
 ceeded to embrace Adalesa with effusion. Then she 
 turned to me with the same intention, but I was so sur- 
 prised that I hung back, and it was some seconds before 
 it dawned upon me that this must be Evangeline. 
 
 " I believe you don't know me ! " she ejaculated ; and 
 I could see that this was a shock to her. Patches of red 
 appeared on her somewhat sunken, sallow cheeks, and the 
 look in her eyes quite startled me, it was so scared. She 
 had evidently had no notion of the change in herself until 
 I failed to recognise her, and had perhaps been cherishing 
 the fond delusion that, however much others might alter, 
 time had only touched her charms to round and ripen 
 them. " I should have known you anywhere," she added 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " And I you — by your voice." I blundered again, in 
 my anxiety to be truthful as well as to atone. I felt angry 
 w^ith Adalesa. She should have prepared me. Changes, 
 indeed ! Evangeline was a wreck. 
 
 " I know I am looking washed out," she continued, 
 glancing anxiously from one to the other of us. " The 
 hot climate, you know. But one always recovers one's 
 complexion at home." 
 
 The manner was much the same, at all events, show- 
 ing that here again in her case the change had been in- 
 complete, which was a pity ; for the simplicity which had 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 119 
 
 been winsome at eighteen seemed silliness now, and the 
 little moues and attitudes she still al!ected sat incongru- 
 ously upon her altered looks. She was girlishly dressed, 
 in a white frock and a large hat, much as she might have 
 been when first we met. Her unconcealed sensitiveness 
 about her appearance had made us all feel awkward for a 
 moment; but Lady Marsh diverted the rest of the party 
 by directing their attention to me. 
 
 "So now you write books?" she said, shaking her 
 head involuntarily. 
 
 Miss Creamer Patterson changed countenance, and 
 edged her chair away from me a little, and then edged it 
 back again, as if, on second thoughts, she regretted the 
 impulse. Old Lady Parkinson peered at me, with undis- 
 guised interest, through a single eyeglass. She was pre- 
 pared to relish any impropriety there might be in my oc- 
 cupation. 
 
 " Do tell me how you do it," she said, in an undertone, 
 looking about her mysteriously, and then leaning forward 
 as if she were about to hear something one only mentions 
 in a whisper. " I am curious to know how things are 
 written. I've often thought I should like to do something 
 of that kind m3^self — on the sly, yoii Icnow. It must be 
 so pleasant to write things. But," she added quickly, " I 
 shouldn't like to do anything to interfere with my night's 
 rest." 
 
 Miss Creamer Patterson, having overcome her first in- 
 stinctive shrinking, and being kindly anxious to atone if 
 she had hurt my feelings, now decided to countenance me, 
 while, of course, carefully avoiding any allusion to my 
 lapse. 
 
120 TDE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " It has been a very dull day," she said. 
 
 But before I could do more than glance at her in re- 
 sponse, Lady Parkinson began again. 
 
 " And when you write a book do you put in the stops 
 yourself? Stops and everything ! Oh, no! not the stops, 
 of course ! All that must be done for you." 
 
 This was added as if she feared I should think she had 
 been expecting too much of me. 
 
 " It is really most • enjoyable weather " Miss 
 
 Creamer Patterson recommenced. 
 
 " But, now, do tell me," Lady Parkinson interposed. 
 "Do you really only write on one side of the paper ? I've 
 been told so, but one never knows. People spread such 
 reports about, you know. Then, I suppose, you make your 
 notes on the other side ? " 
 
 " This is most enjoyable weather for the country," 
 Miss Creamer Patterson again essayed, with exaggerated 
 mildness — as an example, doubtless, to Lady Parkinson, 
 wdio spoke out authoritatively; but the correction was lost 
 upon the latter. 
 
 " You must write very legibly, of course," she broke in 
 once more. 
 
 " They say I don't," I had time to reply. " But it 
 doesn't much matter now, as we can have our things type- 
 WTitten." 
 
 " Ah ! type- written," Lady Parkinson repeated know- 
 ingly. " I know what that is — that long, thin kind of 
 writing. They put it on cards of invitation. But it 
 must spoil your night's rest. Surely it does ! " 
 
 " No," I answered ; " I only write in the morning. 
 Large entertainments do that when I go to them ; but I 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 121 
 
 seldom go. People are never at their best in a crowd, and 
 I like to see my friends at their best. Numbers take the 
 individuality out of them, somehow; and the man or 
 woman who is excellent good company by one's own fire- 
 side, feet on fender, can only cackle in a crowd like every- 
 body else. That which makes us kin only comes out at 
 quiet times. When there is silence, we say an augel is 
 passing.'* 
 
 She stared at me vacantly, as though not comprehend- 
 ing in the least, and then her eyes wandered over the floor 
 as if she were looking for something. 
 
 " I should have thought it would interfere with your 
 night's rest," she said at last. " And of course it must 
 prevent your going into society as much as you ought." 
 
 " Society would interfere with my writing if I would 
 let it," I answered. " But I never let it. I hate society." 
 
 She gave a sort of little jump. " Hate society ! " she 
 echoed under her breath. " Oh ! " 
 
 If I had blasphemed she could not have been more 
 horrified. 
 
 Mrs. Crowther and Evangeline were talking about 
 some lady-milliner. 
 
 "I don't like lady-milliners, because you can't beat 
 them down in their prices," Mrs. Crowther declared lan- 
 guidly. 
 
 " That is so like you, dear child," Lady Marsh ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " What I object to about her is that she has taken to 
 selling cheap things," Evangeline remarked. " She of- 
 fered me a bonnet for two guineas the other day." 
 
 " Ridiculous ! " said Mrs. Crowther. 
 
123 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 Miss Creamer Patterson had had a little confidential 
 chat with Evangeline since she last addressed me ; and 
 now she turned and beamed upon me cordially. " I hear 
 you are a cousin by marriage of the dear duchess's," she 
 said. 
 
 " I am distantly related to her husband," I answered 
 stiffly, seeing that she meant to wait until I spoke. 
 
 " I hope you'll come and see me," she rejoined. " It 
 has been nice bright weather to-day, hasn't it? But the 
 country is always fresh, don't you think so ? I was three 
 months in London this year. I am going to give an at- 
 home. I hope you will come. It is so nice to have inter- 
 esting people at one's parties, you know. People always 
 like to meet writers and that kind of thing, don't you 
 know — when they are of good family. Of course that is 
 the difficulty. But there are some undoubtedly — eccen- 
 tric, don't you know ; only that is amusing, and people 
 like to meet them'. Now, you will come, won't you ? Do 
 promise me." 
 
 On the way upstairs I asked Adalesa if she thought 
 women were ready for the suffrage. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she answered carelessly. " Fe- 
 male fools are not worse than male fools; and if you 
 tested the sexes for folly by examination you would find 
 them much of a muchness. You can't make flour with- 
 out corn, my dear. When people have nothing to think 
 about they don't think." 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 123 
 
 XIL 
 
 In" going through the old house I became aware of a 
 change in it also, as sorrowful in its way as that which I 
 had observed in the old people. I remembered it as spa- 
 cious above everything, a place where one's lungs rejoiced 
 in pure air always, and body and soul could expand 
 healthily and be at ease. It had been Sir Henry's house 
 at that time ; but as the years rolled on, that trick of not 
 troubling had grown upon him, and he had retreated 
 further into himself, and oftener into his library, leaving 
 his wife and daughter to have their way, even to the blot- 
 ting out of every sign of his own personality if they chose, 
 so long as they never meddled with his own sanctum and 
 private place of abode, the big library. There he and the 
 things he loved grew old together in gentle fellowship, 
 built up of interest and early association ; and there he 
 had preserved the space he had been born to move in, and 
 kept the memory of his people and the traditions of his 
 ancient house alive. I went to see him in the library next 
 morning, and found him with a little book in his hand, 
 looking idly out of one of the windows; and, coming 
 upon him unawares, surprised a look of patient resigna- 
 tion on his face that saddened me. It was a grand old 
 age, upright and uncomplaining, but terribly pathetic in 
 its loneliness. Adalesa was the one creature upon earth, 
 I believe, with whom his soul found fellowship, and she 
 did what she could for him with joy, her great grief being 
 that they could not meet except under the sombre shadow 
 of an approaching parting : " If only you were a pauper, 
 9 
 
124: THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 Uncle Henry," she used to exclaim in her quaint way, " I 
 could have you with me always." 
 
 Outside that room the house was crowded now to suffo- 
 cation with curtains, cushions, couches, ottomans, and 
 easy chairs, upholstered in the modern manner with mere 
 trivialities of a costly fashion, devoid of association with 
 the past, and not likely or even intended to last into any 
 distant future. It was decorated, too, in excess with pic- 
 tures, statues, china, arms and ornaments of every sort, 
 stuck any- and everywhere till the eye was satiated ; and 
 it would have been a relief to it to have found a square 
 yard of old oak panelling to repose upon, and a stimulant 
 to the mind had there been any story connected with the 
 panel to arouse reflection. It was a house furnished to 
 death, to the great discomfort of people like myself, who 
 crave for light to luxuriate in, air to breathe, and space in 
 which to move freely. The excessive air of affluence out of 
 doors had been bad enough in its suggestion of a little toy 
 territory, but indoors it was worse, being oppressive. 
 Every appointment was too luxurious, and it seemed im- 
 possible for human beings to live long in such surround- 
 ings and not become enervated, both from want of thought 
 and in consequence of habitual self-indulgence. Lotus 
 eaters they were bound to be, growing flabbier from day 
 to day, morally and physically, through having had every- 
 thing excluded from their lives that might have served to 
 stimulate them to the wholesome exercise of their minds 
 and muscles. It was impossible to think of such a place 
 as belonging to a man, or at all events as the outcome of a 
 vigorous character. Everything about it now was woman- 
 ish, to such a degree as to create a prejudice in advance, 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 125 
 
 in the mind of one who likes men to be manly, against 
 any man who lingered there. It seemed unlikely that he 
 could be anything but of the tame cat kind, a domestic 
 animal kept about the place by the ladies, like their otlier 
 pets, for his usefulness, or to delight their eyes, and serve 
 at odd times as an excuse for something to lavish their 
 love upon. 
 
 Evangeline, being an only child and not very fond of 
 the tropics, had naturally lived much of her married life 
 at home. Our old schoolroom was now her boudoir. She 
 had made it stuffily effeminate in the fashionable man- 
 ner, with tambourines and ribbons, painted plaques, and 
 things of all kinds converted from their honest use to 
 serve as ornaments absurdly — as, for instance, a salad-oil 
 bottle with a pink ribbon tied round its neck, filled with 
 grasses and hung upon the wall — dusty fripperies ! " Just 
 like a beastly bazaar," as Adalesa remarked. " Don't I 
 know them, for my sins? I'm always having to open 
 them. And I always buy these kind of things, and then 
 give a children's party, so that some one may get some 
 pleasure out of them, if it's only the pleasure of demolish- 
 ing them. I should so like to see Evangeline the Second 
 throw billiard balls at that oil bottle." 
 
 It was the day after our arrival, and we had looked in 
 there for a moment on our way to the drawing-room for 
 afternoon tea. Tliis meal was quite a function wlien 
 Adalesa was in the house. People dropped in for it from 
 all parts of the county, and one could see that none of 
 them ever forgot that she was a duchess. 
 
 TVe found the room full on this occasion, and Evange- 
 line, very much in her element, flitting about from one 
 
126 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 to another, all little airs and graces, gesticulating with 
 her pretty hands to help her words out, and altogether 
 very youthful indeed. Two lovely little children, a boy 
 and a girl, dreadfully over-dressed, were brought in 
 presently. 
 
 " My babies ! " she exclaimed, fluttering off to meet 
 them, and then flopping down on her knees and holding 
 out her arms, into which the little girl sprang confidently. 
 The boy hung back. 
 
 " Ah, this is my child, this is my darling ! " Evange- 
 line cried, covering the girl with kisses. " You go away," 
 she said to the other ; " you're not my boy at all." 
 
 If this were meant for playfulness the little fellow 
 did not see it, for he shrank off sensitively, and seemed 
 too preoccupied to respond when Adalesa took him upon 
 her knee and began to lavish attentions upon him. He 
 Bat with his eyes fixed on his mother and sister, watch- 
 ing them with a countenance so blank, one wondered at 
 it, but could not understand it. I discovered afterwards, 
 however, that he was utterly neglected, if not absolutely 
 ill-treated, by his mother, because a dark drop that there 
 was in his father's family had come out in him. Evan- 
 geline had been sentimental, as a girl, on the subject of 
 Perceval's " exquisite Oriental eyes," but during her so- 
 journ in the tropics she had acquired some further in- 
 formation on the subject of such eyes, and now associated 
 them with other than romantic ideas. The little girl was 
 as fair as herself, but abroad the boy had been stigmatised 
 as " coloured." He was a charming child, but almost 
 morbidly sensitive, and one could see that his mother's 
 continual jibes, although always delivered with an affecta- 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. 127 
 
 tion of playfulness, never failed to cut him to the quick. 
 Adalesa and I both begged hard to bo p,llowed to keep him. 
 
 "You can halve him between you if you like," his 
 mother rejoined. " I only want my girl — my beauty ! " 
 
 " You are a brute, Evangeline ! " was Adalesa's gentle 
 comment. 
 
 *' Ah, my dear," said Evangeline airily, " it is fortunate 
 for the family that you became a duchess. In a less ex- 
 alted position people might have tried you by your lan- 
 guage, and found you wanting in refinement." 
 
 " Good, by way of tu quoque^^ said Adalesa apprecia- 
 tively. 
 
 They had an encounter of this kind almost every 
 time they met, and it was strange to find these two mature 
 women jarring still, without ever quarrelling exactly, just 
 as they used to do in their early girlhood. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Mrs. Crowther was Evangeline's bosom friend at this 
 time ; but they had two other bosom friends, Mr. Regy 
 Vincent and Mr. Paul Marks, w^ho came continually to the 
 house to pay them that kind of court which very young 
 men are apt to lavish on dressy young women, a good deal 
 older than themselves, if they are encouraged ; and it was 
 evident to me, so far as Evangeline was concerned, that 
 what she lived on now was the adoration of these 
 
 " Things whose place 'tis over ladies 
 
 To lean and flirt and stare and simper, 
 Till all that is divine in woman 
 Grows cruel, courteous, smooth, inhuman; 
 Cruciiied 'twixt a smile and a whimper." 
 
128 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 She took either or both about with her impartially, ac- 
 cording to circumstances, or as they might become avail- 
 able for purposes of escort. She shared them fairly with 
 Mrs. Crowther, but would show signs of dissatisfaction if 
 they ventured to pay any but the most unavoidable at- 
 tention to other ladies. Beyond these young men, how- 
 ever, and the constant care and thought she bestowed 
 upon her dress and appearance, she did not seem to have 
 any special interest in life. It was a continual case of 
 *' What shall we do next ? " with her — an inveterate run- 
 ning from one trivial amusement to another in order to 
 pa€s the time — to get it over with as little consciousness 
 of its flight as possible. The only moments she really 
 lived were those which brought her some petty personal 
 social triumph, emphasised by a tribute of admiration or 
 of envy, no matter which, since either proved that she 
 was still a success. 
 
 " One would think it was something glorious you were 
 hurrying to arrive at," Adalesa said to her one day, " in- 
 stead of old age, which w^ill be upon you soon enough, I 
 should think, without going to meet it half-way as you 
 do, seeing that you dread it so." 
 
 Mr. Regy Vincent and Mr. Paul Marks lounged in 
 after dinner on the evening of our arrival. They were 
 stiff and neglectful in their attentions to Lady Marsh on 
 account of her age, familiar with Evangeline and Mrs. 
 Crowther, deferential to " the duchess," and suspicious of 
 me. Sir Henry they would have treated as an equal had 
 he not overlooked them altogether. 
 
 " Awful fun at the cricket match this afternoon," Mr. 
 Vincent remarked to the ceiling. He was sprawling in 
 
TUE YELLOW LEAF. 129 
 
 an armchair beside Mrs. Crowther, with his hands in his 
 trousers pockets and his legs spread out before him. 
 
 " Oh, did you hear that girl ? " said Mr. Marks, who 
 stood near with an eyeglass in his right eye, looking 
 down on the ladies in every sense of the word. " I can't 
 remember exactly what she said, but I know it was awfully 
 good. Some one had been caught out, or something of 
 that kind, don't you know, and so she thought that side 
 had lost ! " 
 
 " Yet women want the suffrage ! " Mr. Vincent said 
 softly to the ceiling. 
 
 Mr. Marks very much appreciated this good thing; 
 and the three ladies also smiled, as though to show their 
 perfect agreement with the conclusion that, because one 
 woman, not having learnt the ins and out of such an im- 
 portant thing as a game of cricket, makes a mistake, there- 
 fore the pretensions of all women to be considered reason- 
 able beings are absurd. 
 
 " Take care ! " Lady Marsh said to Mr. Vincent play- 
 fully. " That dear child there " — meaning Adalesa — 
 *' claims equality with you." 
 
 " Oh, for heaven's sake — pardon me," Adalesa cried, 
 with more than necessary emphasis, after a horrified glance 
 at the young man's sloping skull — " not equality ! I could 
 never come to that I " 
 
 Mr. Vincent frowned thoughtfully, and even Mr. Marks 
 seemed to think there might be more than he perceived in 
 this reply ; but Lady Marsh smiled on serenely. There 
 was a little pause, however, and some remarks made in 
 undertones before the chatter recommenced ; then some- 
 body began about hands and feet. 
 
130 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " I know who has the smallest feet I ever saw," Mr. 
 Vincent declared, looking significantly at Evangeline, who 
 assumed a simpering air of unconsciousness. 
 
 " Well, I know whose feet are the best shaped," Mr. 
 Paul Marks declared, with a companion glance at Mrs. 
 Crowther. 
 
 " I'll bet you ten to one Mrs. Perceval has the smallest 
 foot in the room," Mr. Vincent cried. 
 
 " Done with you," said Mr. Marks. " Ladies, a slipper 
 each, please, to measure." 
 
 " I beg to be excused," Adalesa said, with dignity. 
 
 *' How horrid of you ! " Evangeline exclaimed. " How 
 is the bet to be decided ? ' It is only fun." 
 
 " I fail to see the fun," said Adalesa. 
 
 Others were not so fastidious, however, and the vulgar 
 competition went on without her, one inanity leading to 
 another until it was time to retire. 
 
 " Isn't it delightful to see Evangeline so young and 
 fresh ? " Lady Marsh whispered to me as I wished her 
 good-night. " She is quite a girl. Every little thing 
 amuses her." 
 
 I smiled as well as I could, thinking the while that it 
 might have been better had she been less " a girl " and 
 more fastidious. 
 
 " Oh, by the way," Mr. Vincent exclaimed, " will you 
 come out for a row to-morrow ? We can carry four ladies 
 in the back of the boat." 
 
 " Where ? " I asked. 
 
 " Mr. Vincent means the stern," Adalesa explained ; 
 " but he didn't think a lady would understand." 
 
 We were leaving the room together at the moment ; 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 131 
 
 and she continued laughingly, when we were out of ear- 
 shot, " I always think it so kind and considerate of those 
 dear boys to talk down to our ladylike level." 
 
 Adalesa laughed ; then asked if I felt sleepy, because 
 she did not, and proposed that we should go to Evange- 
 line's room and cackle. 
 
 We surprised Evangeline dabbing some cosmetic on 
 her faded cheeks. 
 
 " Don't you do anything to your face ? " she asked 
 Adalesa, in a sort of gently reproachful tone, as if it were 
 not honourable to neglect cosmetics. 
 
 " I wash it," said Adalesa. 
 
 Evangeline had left her husband in Brazil, but he was 
 expected home next day. 
 
 " How delighted you will be to see him ! " I said inno- 
 cently. 
 
 Evangeline failed in an attempt to look so. 
 
 " You haven't seen him since Evangeline took him off 
 my hands for his good, have you ? " Adalesa remarked, in 
 her flippant way. 
 
 I had been nervously toying with some bottles on the 
 dressing-table when she spoke, and now I knocked one 
 over. 
 
 " My drops ! " Evangeline exclaimed. " I am obliged 
 to take something. The doctor prescribed them for my 
 nerves : I can't trust my nerves ; I can't keep up without 
 something." 
 
 This was said almost defiantly, as if she thought we 
 should object ; but Adalesa recommended her to have 
 some drops. 
 
 " Judging by your appearance, I should say you will 
 
132 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 never want them more than you do at this moment," she 
 said. 
 
 When I was alone with Adalesa, I could not help re- 
 marking on the change in Evangeline. 
 
 " It amazes me," I said. 
 
 " Do you mean the change in her appearance or in her 
 character ? " she asked. " Or the further development of 
 her character rather, I should say, for essentially she is 
 the same." 
 
 " Both," I answered. 
 
 " Well, neither need," she said ; " for those soft, plump, 
 pink-and-white girls, who mature early, and have no mus- 
 cular training to strengthen and develop their physique, 
 go off early as a rule ; and if you will remember how she 
 was taught to believe that a woman's great aim in life is 
 to be attractive, particularly in appearance, to men, you 
 won't wonder that she begins to be embittered by the sus- 
 picion that she is less so than she was." 
 
 " What is Perceval like now ? " 
 
 " Stoutish — the last time I saw him ; and I expect by 
 now he will have quite lost his girlish figure. But in one 
 respect he has not altered. He is still much as he was 
 when he thought he preferred Evangeline to me — the 
 sort of man, that is to say, who hasn't the brains to know 
 what a fool he is." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 It was Adalesa, as it happened, who welcomed the 
 traveller back next day, Evangeline having gone out early, 
 with Mrs. Crowther and the two voung men, on some ex- 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. I33 
 
 jiedition, from which she did not return in time to meet 
 her husband. 
 
 He looked to me now a somewhat irritable, elderly, 
 
 . careworn man, more altered for the worse, I thought, in 
 appearance and manner than she was even. But he won 
 my heart by his devotion to his dark little boy. The way 
 the two clung to each other was significant. When the 
 father was reading his paper in the morning, the child 
 would steal in stealthily, glancing about, as if afraid of 
 being captured and ordered off, and would climb up on 
 his father's knee, and nestle there happily so long as he 
 was left in peace, his father fondling him half-uncon- 
 sciously with his disengaged hand. And they would talk 
 to each other, too, when nobody seemed to be noticing 
 them ; but if Evangeline came and caught them, she 
 would gently insist upon sending the boy off to the 
 nursery, or out for a walk, arranging and ordering for 
 them according to her own mood of the moment, after 
 her mother's manner ; and neither he nor his father ever 
 had the courage to disobey her. 
 
 These episodes were painfully significant. They made 
 one heartsore and sorrowful, and all the more so because 
 there was such a falsification in it all of the unvarying 
 sweetness of manner and womanly graces Evangeline cul- 
 
 , tivated. She was enough to make one distrust all simj^le- 
 seeming, apparently amiable women ; and one felt one 
 would rather have had downright roughness with some 
 affection, than that silken selfishness which had spoilt the 
 only chance a man ever had to become better than his 
 natural self, was crushing his son, and bringing his 
 daughter up to be detestable. 
 
134 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 One of Evangeline's ideas was to have a ball while we 
 were all together, " jnst like the one we had when we 
 were girls," she said, clapping her hands youthfully. It 
 did not seem to me to be a very happy idea, considering 
 what Adalesa had suffered on that occasion ; but the lat- 
 ter was too healthy minded, even if she had not been too 
 happily situated, to be troubled by inconvenient reminis- 
 cences. 
 
 Lady Marsh aided and abetted Evangeline. We should 
 arrange it all ourselves, she said, just as we did before, in 
 the same sitting-room, and all be girls again. But, oh, 
 the pathetic absurdity of the attempt ! three married 
 women at the meridian expected to ape themselves as 
 they were in the morning of life. Only Evangeline could 
 seriously think of such a thing. She insisted that our 
 costumes for the ball should be red, white, and blue again ; 
 and that we should wear the jewels Sir HeTiry had given 
 us for the first event ; and she sorrowed because the very 
 same dresses were not in existence to be worn again. 
 
 " What should we look like ! " Adalesa exclaimed, with 
 her frank laugh. She was sitting beside her uncle, and 
 now proceeded to make merry with him over the disap- 
 pearance of her angles, and the apparition of a wrinkle : — 
 " I was so surprised when I first caught a glimpse of one 
 at the corner of my eye," she said. " I thought there 
 was something the matter with the glass. It had never 
 occurred to me that / should become wrinkled." 
 
 Evangeline was shocked at such levity. She thought 
 any allusion to altered looks very bad taste ; and besides, 
 she was treating the whole thing like a sacred function, 
 which, if solemnly performed in the right spirit, would 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. I35 
 
 rejuvenate us all. " You always had those wrinkles," she 
 said severely. " It is the way you laugh. You pucker 
 up your eyes." 
 
 One of Evangeline's wearing tricks was to exact a 
 lover-like devotion from her husband ; but only by fits 
 and starts, when others failed or their attentions palled 
 upon her, or when she suspected him of having looked 
 admiringly at some one else. The poor man always did 
 his best to respond to these exactions ; but it was pitiful 
 to witness what the effort cost him, and ridiculous to see 
 him attach himself to her train, and feign again to be a 
 passionate young lover. At such times he made me think 
 of a performing dog in a state of trepidation, doing his 
 best with one eye on his master's whip, in dread anticipa- 
 tion of what will follow if he fails to satisfy him. 
 
 I was standing beside her when the ball began. 
 
 " How delightful to renew all the old associations ! " 
 she exclaimed. " I feel quite as excited as I did — then, 
 you know." 
 
 I could see, however, that it was an anxious kind of 
 excitement, more painful than pleasurable. This ball 
 was to be decisive in some w^ay. She kept glancing at 
 herself in a mirror near. She had always loved the good 
 points of her own anatomy; it had been a positive pleas- 
 ure to her to consider them ; but now there was no 23leas- 
 ure in her eyes, only incessant inquiry. 
 
 " I think we look pretty much the same," she said at 
 last, airily, but tentatively also. 
 
 " The same considerably older," I answered, but in- 
 stantly regretted the careless speech when I saw its effect 
 upon her. She was not so much offended as frightened, 
 
136 THE YELLOW LEAP. 
 
 I thought, and I was glad to see her husband approach- 
 ing to make a diversion. 
 
 " We will have the first waltz together for old sake's 
 sake," he began, with a kindly smile. 
 
 " I am engaged for it. You should have come sooner," 
 she answered shortly. 
 
 " Well, never mind, dear," he rejoined. " Keep me 
 one during the evening." 
 
 " If you really care about it, I think you might par- 
 ticularise the one," she answered. 
 
 He took her programme, and looked at it quietly ; but 
 there was no longer any of the animation in his face with 
 which he had approached her. She had banished the light 
 of other days effectually ; and in its place there reappeared 
 the lines which had been deeply graven there by the fric- 
 tion of such scenes as these. 
 
 Evangeline's partner carried her off, and then her hus- 
 band turned to Adalesa, who was also standing by. I had 
 noticed that it was always to her he turned in times of 
 trial. " You see I never do the right thing," he said, 
 dejectedly. 
 
 " I should have said that you did so just then," she 
 answered. 
 
 *^ Ah ! well, then," he rejoined, " I suppose I did not 
 do it in the right way." 
 
 He sighed as he spoke, and at that moment Evangeline 
 glided by with Mr. Vincent, to whom she whispered and 
 simpered as they waltzed. 
 
 There was a bevy of girls at the ball, charming, fresh, 
 merry girls, whom it was a pleasure just to sit and watch, 
 their enjoyment of everything was so hearty. It was a 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. 137 
 
 joy to us elder women to have them come and cosy up to 
 us with frank, affectionate confidence, sure of our sym- 
 pathy and discretion. There was a double delight in it 
 for us, the pleasure of entering into all their feelings, and 
 the hope of being able to help them to realize some of 
 their anticipations. 
 
 Adalesa and I busied ourselves in finding partners for 
 them. Evangeline had fought against having so many 
 girls asked, but we ultimately overruled her objection. A 
 ball without plenty of girls would be intolerable. In my 
 leisure moments — that is, to say when a dance was in 
 progress — I saw her several times sitting out ; and towards 
 the end of the evening an unmistakable air of deep dissat- 
 isfaction settled upon her. She had determined to dance 
 till daylight, but only her husband, Mr. Vincent and Mr. 
 Marks had asked her ; by all the other men she had been 
 overlooked. 
 
 Once during the night I saw her hurriedly leave the 
 ball-room alone, and followed her, fearing she might be 
 ill. I found her in her own room, having recourse to 
 those fatal " drops," without which she professed to be so 
 seldom equal to anything now. They seemed to raise her 
 spirits for the moment ; but, later on, during a dance, she 
 came to where Adalesa and I were sitting out together, 
 and sank on to the ottoman beside us with such a weary, 
 dejected air that I felt sorry for her, and tried to think of 
 something to say that would solace her. The effort brouglit 
 back a vivid recollection of the day that we were commem- 
 orating. I recognised the very spot where I had sat look- 
 ing on at the ball and wondering at her conduct; and 
 recalled with a rush the yearning to peep into the future 
 
138 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 — and the jialm. I looked across to the corner where it 
 had stood, and tliere, by a natural coincidence, was again 
 a palm. Probably one had been placed on that same spot 
 for every ball given in the house. But this palm looked 
 so exactly like the other, even to the position of that par- 
 ticular leaf on which the light had shone as it waved to 
 the whirl of the dancers, or bent, in quiet moments, above 
 those who sat under it, that it might have been the same 
 plant, especially as time had touched it, so that the leaf 
 was no longer fresh and green, but dry and brown, with 
 frayed edges much in need of the gardener's shears. 
 
 I had confided my fancy of long ago about it to Ada- 
 lesa, and now she remarked upon it. 
 
 " Does it speak of spirits still? " she asked. 
 
 " Alas ! no," I answered. " It has ' fallen into the sere, 
 the yellow leaf ' and is altogether prosaic. I should have 
 it cut off; it only disfigures the plant." 
 
 Evangeline looked up at it absently ; then suddenly 
 her eyes gleamed. 
 
 "Do I look like a horrid, wizened old woman?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 " No," I answered sincerely. 
 
 "And what would it matter if one did?" Adalesa 
 asked. 
 
 " What would it matter ! " she groaned. " It would 
 mean an end of everything that makes life endurable." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Adalesa. " Every age has its pleas- 
 ures ; and how a woman can care to be a day younger than 
 she is — can crave for the admiration paid to twenty when 
 she should be enjoying the homage due to forty, I cannot 
 conceive. The buds are beautiful in the spring, and there 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 139 
 
 is beauty also in the full-blown foliage of summer ; but 
 are either more admirable in their clay than the exquisite 
 autumn leaf ? " 
 
 " But men say such things about old women," Evange- 
 line wailed. 
 
 " Ah — men ! " Adalesa laughed. " Well, my man is 
 sound on the subject. But why be for ever thinking 
 about men, Evangeline ? Why don't you go in for some- 
 thing sensible now? Look at Mrs. Crowther! It is for 
 men, I suppose, that she makes up so abominably. And 
 what does she gain by it? Nothing but ridicule; for if 
 there is one thing men despise more than another, it is an 
 artificial woman. Are you ill ? " 
 
 This was said with concern, on seeing Evangeline's 
 face contract, as if with a spasm of pain. 
 
 " No, thank you," she answered faintly. Then, after 
 a little, she exclaimed, " But what is there to live for, if 
 you cease to be attractive ? " 
 
 " Oh, if we are careful, we need never cease to be 
 attractive," Adalesa answered easily, and then abruptly 
 changed the subject. 
 
 XV. 
 
 When" the guests had gone, and we had got into our 
 dressing-gowns, Adalesa came to my room, and found me 
 sitting by the open window looking out at the lingering 
 night. She drew up a chair, and sat beside me silently for 
 some time. 
 
 There was no moon, and only a few stars appeared low 
 down on the horizon ; but still it was possible to see the 
 10 
 
140 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 shadowy outlines of trees and shrubs; and the scent of 
 summer flowers was wafted up to us, the chirrup of a bird 
 disturbed, the mournful cry of some creature far away — 
 bird of night or beast in distress, it was impossible to say 
 which at so great a distance — and even the round clear war- 
 ble of a nightingale arose now and then, though it was 
 late in the season for these ; occasionally, too, one of the 
 dogs would set up a dismal howl, which would arouse the 
 others in the neighbourhood, one by one, till a whole pack 
 had joined in vigorous chorus, which subsided again into 
 single barks, as it had begun, making room for the silence 
 proper to the hour — that silence, never empty or distaste- 
 ful to the healthy mind, which is as an atmosphere wrapped 
 about us, through which we are conscious of the throbbing 
 of continuous soft sounds. There came to us now from 
 far away the solemn, deep-toned tolling of a bell ; while 
 the constant gurgle and drip of water near at hand and 
 the voices of whispering leaves filled up every pause with 
 lingering crescendo murmur and rustle, inexpressibly 
 soothing. 
 
 " "What an exquisite hour ! " Adalesa said at last softly ; 
 " a night like that other night long ago ; but, oh, the dif- 
 ference ! the like in unlikeness ! I did suffer. And now 
 I have everything — by which I mean that in myself which 
 
 is everything ; while Evangeline I do pity her ; and 
 
 I am anxious about her too. I never dreamt any sane 
 woman could be so seriously affected by the suspicion that 
 she has gone off. She has everything in the world but 
 the charm of youth and the tribute paid to it, and that, it 
 seems, is the only thing she cares for." 
 
 " Oh, well, it is natural to mourn when a sudden sense 
 
THE YELLOW LEAP. 141 
 
 of loss comes upon us," I answered temperately. " I 
 don't believe, until to-night, she ever even suspected that 
 she could go off. It must have been a blow to find her- 
 self set aside all at once. But let us hope she is sleeping 
 now, and will awake with her mind strengthened." 
 
 " Yes, let us hope it," Adalesa answered. " Let us 
 hope she will reconcile herself to the loss of her beauty, 
 and begin to look about for more lasting interests. And 
 let us slip out, you and I, just to mark the good time we 
 
 are having, and the great change let us slip out and 
 
 sit on the shore, and watch the sun rise over the sea. 
 Come and invoke ' tender morning visions of beauteous 
 souls,' and be glad. You can be glad now ? " she said, 
 with sudden sympathy, recollecting. 
 
 " Oh yes," I answered quickly ; " I enjoy every hour 
 of my life now." 
 
 " That's right. That is how it should be as we get 
 older," she replied. " Here, let me help you into a walk- 
 ing-dress. Don't you appreciate things better now than 
 you did ? — at the moment, I mean. When one is j'oung, 
 one is never so satisfied. One looks back and lives those 
 delights over again ; but at the time we did not under- 
 stand, and so lost the full flavour. Later one has realised 
 how precious it is just to be alive ; and then, I think, it is 
 that one begins to live." 
 
 We were ready by this time, and, having slipped out 
 by a side-door, we took our way through the murmuring 
 pine wood to the beach. It was so dusky under the trees 
 that we could see no path ; and now onr feet sank deep in 
 moss, and now dry branches crackled beneath them, 
 making what seemed, by contrast, to be a terrific noise in 
 
1^2 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 the stillness. In the thicker part of the wood great 
 shadows rushed out upon and then engulfed us; and 
 filmy forms that hovered above the path flitted aside to 
 make way for us ; while the pine-needles falling kept up 
 a continuous patter, as of lively little feet ; and the 
 fragrant pine-plumes, answering to a touch, bent above 
 us caressingly. 
 
 Presently^ however, we raised our heads again out in 
 the open. It was a very different scene. The breezy 
 sandhills lay about us, desolate as deserted streets, which 
 they somewhat resembled in their irregular outlines, by 
 that light — streets that the dust of ages has settled upon, 
 making mounds, beneath which all outward semblance of 
 human habitation is blotted out. The coarse grass, 
 through which the wind swished, and the heavy sand 
 hindered our feet as we stumbled on ; but presently we 
 came out upon the beach, close beside the sea, for the tide 
 was up. And there we sat us, and together saw the 
 sapphire dark melt out of the sky, and the first faint grey 
 streaks of dawn shoot up in the east, shaft-like, from 
 horizon to zenith, then slowly take on a faint flush of 
 pink, scarcely a shadow at first, but growing momentarily 
 deeper, and spreading till the whole east shone crimson, 
 and the sea responded to the glory of it. Then the rim 
 of the sun arose from the waters, and the wavelets wel- 
 comed it with merry murmurs as they broke upon the 
 sandy shore. We saw in silence, there being no word of 
 human speech to express the emotions of such a moment. 
 The sea- voice sang in our ears ; we scented the exquisite 
 iodine freshness of the air, the joy of nature filled and en- 
 compassed us. No hour of earthly triumph can exceed 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. I43 
 
 iu ecstasy tlie gladness of such a time. The holy calm of 
 it settled upon us, and when at last >ve rose and returned 
 arm in arm, our souls were satisfied, and our hearts were 
 strengthened as by a solemn service, 
 
 XVL 
 
 Next morning, at a late hour, I was dressing in a 
 leisurely manner for a late breakfast ; and as I dressed I 
 sang to myself, until the saying " Sing before breakfast 
 cry before night " flashed through my mind, bringing 
 with it a hundred memories of happy mornings when 
 the songs would out in spite of the saying. Now, how- 
 ever, somehow it silenced me, and I was just think- 
 ing, when without warning, Adalesa burst in upon me 
 and stood on the threshold gasping, with scared, white 
 face. 
 
 " Come ! " she tried to articulate, but her voice failed 
 her. 
 
 I understood, however, and followed her from the 
 room without a word. 
 
 Outside in the corridor we encountered Sir Henry and 
 Lady Marsh. He, with a blank, stunned look on his fine 
 old countenance, was tenderly supporting her as he led 
 her to her room. Poor old people, fast failing both of 
 them, — it was a terrible sight. She was all dishevelled 
 in appearance, as if she had rushed out from her bed, 
 with white hair streaming, and the pleased, perpetual 
 smile banished at last and for ever from her distorted 
 features. When slie saw us she sent up a shriek, like one 
 distraught. 
 
144 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 " Wliat horror has happened ? " I tried to say, but my 
 Yoice was strangled in my throat. 
 
 Adalesa, clasping her hand round my arm, hurried me 
 on to Evangeline's room. The door was open, and several 
 servants, with awestruck countenances, stood outside 
 craning their necks to peep in over each other's heads and 
 satisfy their curiosity. As we approached they silently 
 made way for us, and we entered. The blinds were up, 
 and the summer sun exposed the scene, touching with 
 tawdriness what the moon would have enriched, and mak- 
 ing merely revolting that which night would have divested 
 of all but romantic interest. Was it only a few hours 
 since we had seen that same sun rise resplendent, and felt 
 we could cling to every hour of life only to see and salute 
 him again and again? We had flattered ourselves then 
 that Evangeline was sleeping oS her childish pique ; and 
 now, at the first glance, she seemed to be sleej^ing ; but at 
 the second we stood transfixed, seeing but not believing, 
 knowing but not acknowledging. 
 
 There was a large luxurious couch near the window ; 
 and there, still in her ball dress and her jewels, lit by the 
 full blaze of day, she lay prone, with eyes half-shut and 
 lips drawn back in a dreadful grin. She had many more 
 jewels on than she had worn at the ball the night before ; 
 and I was seized with the horrid suspicion that the ball 
 dress had been kept on for effect, and the extra diamonds 
 added to complete the picture. But oh ! if she could 
 have seen the effect ! I wish — I wish /never had, for I can- 
 not forget it. Patches of rouge stood out on her sallow, 
 shrunken cheeks, making her whole face look like old ill- 
 coloured wax, the rigidity being further emphasised by a 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. 145 
 
 fly, which buzzed about, lighting now liere, now tliere, 
 with impunity. It was horrible not even to expect her to 
 feel it, and flip it away. 
 
 Her husband stood beside her; looking down at her, 
 but there was neither love nor grief in his face — only a 
 kind of wonder mingled with repulsion. It is dreadful to 
 see death and not weep ; but all who stood by, her lovers 
 and her friends, were dry-eyed ; and the fact that there 
 was not one tearful face to relieve the tension with a 
 touch of pathos made the tragedy more hideous. 
 
 Mr. Regy Vincent outside said audibly to Mrs. Crow- 
 ther : " She looks too horrid ; you mustn't go in." 
 
 Could she have heard him, had she had imagination 
 enough even to have anticipated such a thing, she might 
 have been saved ! 
 
 Suddenly a child set up a shrill cry. It was her little 
 boy, who had slipped in unnoticed, and now clung, shriek- 
 ing and terrified, to his father. A servant, shrinking 
 from the task, hastily tore the coverlet from the bed ; and, 
 with lips compressed, as if nerving herself, covered the 
 couch and its ghastly burden, and then, snatching up the 
 child, hurriedly made her escape. 
 
 Outside, Mrs. Crowther was asking Mr. Vincent if 
 there would be an inquest. 
 
 " Oh yes ! and we shall be asked to give evidence," he 
 answered. 
 
 " What — me 9 " she cried. *' How horrid ! I was 
 never mixed up in anything so dreadful in my life. Can't 
 I get away?" 
 
 " Well, Fm going," he rejoined ; " I'll see you safely 
 to town if you like." 
 
146 THE YELLOW LEAF. 
 
 Now that there was nothing to be seen but the dim 
 suggestion of a figure beneath the coverlet, we were able 
 to speak to each other. 
 
 Perceval was the first to find words. 
 
 " Slie seemed dreadfully depressed after the ball," lie 
 whispered. " I could not understand why exactly. She 
 said several times she had nothing left to live for. Then 
 she begged me to leave her for the night. She wanted to 
 be alone. She said she thought she should sleep if I left 
 her alone. So I went into the next room, and was soon 
 asleep myself, never dreaming " 
 
 He looked absently at a little bottle he held in his 
 hand, and muttered something about a dangerous medi- 
 cine. 
 
 Adalesa slipped her hand through my arm, and whis- 
 pering " I want to speak to you," led me away to her 
 room. " Look," she said, drawing a paper from her 
 pocket when she had shut the door and looked round care- 
 fully to make sure that we were alone, " I found this, but 
 no one else has seen it. It is not addressed to any one, 
 and there is no signature, you see. What shall I do with 
 it ? She had it in her hand. I was the first to find her. 
 I went in early, because I was anxious. I thought I could 
 cheer her. She seemed to be holding it out to me, as I 
 entered ; and I took it, and kissed her, and asked her 
 pardon if I had hurt her — before I saw. I ran in, you 
 know, and floj^ped down on my knees beside her, giving 
 myself no time either to see or think ; so that it did not 
 strike me as strange that she should be lying there in her 
 ball dress and jewels, with the sun streaming in upon her. 
 It was the cold of her cheek " 
 
THE YELLOW LEAF. I47 
 
 She finished by crushing the crumpled sheet into my 
 hand with a shudder; and I shuddered too, as I opened 
 it. One does not shrink from anything that the honoured 
 dead have touched : but this was different — this firmlv 
 written, cool, cynical, heartless expression of a selfish 
 determination. 
 
 When I had read it I looked at Adalesa, and made as 
 if I would have torn it up. 
 
 " Yes, yes," she said eagerly ; " or burn it — for the 
 sake of an honoured name — for the old people — for the 
 children's sake — burn it. Ko one need ever know. 
 Thank Heaven we were here ! " 
 
 Accordingly, a large and sorrowing circle of shocked 
 and sympathetic friends were informed eventually by the 
 verdict that the sad occurrence had been the result of 
 misadventure, in the shape of an overdose of morphia 
 " taken to relieve pain." 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 How it happened that Janey could ever have lived 
 and not been in Dickens, I cannot imagine, unless it was 
 that the master was cut off prematurely before he came to 
 her. The nearest approach in his works to the type is 
 " Miss Jenny Wren," the dolls' dressmaker ; but that 
 small creature was mainly fantastical, whereas our Janey 
 could under no circumstances have been anything but 
 dignified, so simple were her manners, so direct her speech, 
 so great her intelligence, so clear her judgment, and so ex- 
 emplary her patient fortitude under circumstances of pe- 
 culiar trial. She was one of the best specimens I ever 
 met of that highly complex creature, "a true gentle- 
 woman " ; a being compounded of courage and timidity, 
 strength and weakness, sense, delicacy, refinement, pene- 
 tration, taste, tact, and a few foibles — though the latter 
 were not innate in Janey's case, I should say, but rather 
 an accretion sown by circumstances, an outcome of the 
 influence of such externals as of necessity surrounded her 
 unusual position, and of the close contact with a number 
 of very diverse people which it entailed. 
 
 But although I maintain that Janey was a gentlewom- 
 an, it would be misleading to call her a lady. Gentle- 
 woman in our day is a title which must be won by esti- 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. I49 
 
 mable qualities ; a lady may be any kind of a character, the 
 term merely referring to position and means — those fine 
 feathers which cover many contemptible birds. Janey's 
 position was low in the social scale — she had been a 
 kitchen-maid ; and her pedigree was certainly not exalted. 
 It is, however, valuable in its significance to the student 
 of human nature as showing from whence she possibly 
 derived her own good qualities. Her father's family were 
 mostly tenant farmers in a small way, or market garden- 
 ers, and had been so for generations, the girls having gone 
 into service when they did not marry and were not want- 
 ed at home. On her mother's side she was the descend- 
 ant of a respectable line of gentlemen's servants, a race 
 whose daily bread depended upon their moral worth. Her 
 grandmother had been a housekeeper, grandfather stud- 
 groom, great grandmother lady's-maid, great grandfather 
 butler, and so on, all people on whose competence and 
 honesty their employers had to rely for their comfort and 
 safety in life. And it would appear as if her ancestors on 
 that side had been a kind of imitative insect also, taking 
 on the colour and characteristics of their surroundings, 
 both of which had culminated in Janey to such perfection 
 that, had she been placed early enough among the nobility 
 and gentry to acquire for herself the one thing wanting to 
 her, their trick of speech, she could not have been distin- 
 guished from one of that order. Her father and mother 
 had both struck out in a new direction for themselves. 
 The father had gone into the service of a railway com- 
 pany, which employed him to drive a lorry and deliver 
 goods ; while the mother had been a straw-plaiter by trade 
 up to the time of her marriage, doing the work at home. 
 
150 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 I made Janey's acquaintance through our good vicar, 
 to wliom I had applied for work to vary the stultifying 
 monotony of my elegant leisure. 
 
 " What would you like to do ? " he asked. 
 • *' Something for somebod}^" I answered. 
 
 " There is district visiting," he suggested dubiously. 
 
 " No, certainly not," I answered without hesitation. 
 " You must let me go where I am sure to be welcome?" 
 
 " As for instance ? " 
 
 " Well, the sick poor, you know. There must surely 
 be something to be done for them." 
 
 He considered a moment. " There is Janey," he began 
 meditatively — " and indeed her whole family for the matter 
 of that ! The father is suffering from some brain disease, 
 brought on by debauch ; the mother is worn out by the 
 reckless production of too large a family ; and Janey her- 
 self is paralysed from the waist down. I shall pass them 
 on my way back, and," he added in his slow way, " I was 
 thinking of going in." 
 
 " Please decide to do so then, and take me wdth you," 
 I exclaimed. 
 
 We stopped at a row of squalid cottages — not country 
 cottages, but the dreary town variety, two-storied, ugly, 
 dingy, depressing, swarming with human beings, the 
 children overflowing into the street and crowding the 
 curb, multitudinous, restless, and repulsive on the first 
 glance in their dirt and movements as maggots on meat ; 
 but proving on closer inspection to be handsome, sturd}^ 
 and delicate of skin, the strong survivals of a race from 
 which the weakly weeds were subtracted between the 
 ages of one and eleven by the rough exigencies of their 
 
JANEY, A IlUiMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 151 
 
 existence, as the little headstones in the cemetery showed, 
 only the hardier plants being left to flourish. In front of 
 the cottages was a broad main thoroughfare, the houses 
 on the opposite side being those of well-to-do artisans ; at 
 the back were the great iron works where hundreds of men 
 toiled day and night, " six hours on and six hours off," in- 
 cessantly. Eighteen big chimneys towered above Janey's 
 tiny abode, monsters whose black breath ♦begrimed the 
 country for miles around, and compared with which the 
 human being is as insignificant as the coral insect is to 
 the atoll. There was a small pretence of garden ground 
 in front of the cottages, tiny strips of clay beaten hard by 
 the children's feet as a rule, and with scarcely a green 
 blade growing in any of them. These were divided from 
 each other and from the footpath by iron railings, and 
 little gates upon which the children swung. The vicar 
 stopped at one of these, and entering went up to the cot- 
 tage door, which was ajar. This he pushed open, then 
 knocked at the door of the front room on the ground floor. 
 
 " Please come in, sir," was the gentle response. " I 
 know who it is by your step, sir. I knows 'em all now 
 pretty nearly." 
 
 The vicar looked in. " How are you to-day, Janey ? " 
 I heard him say. " I have brought a lady to see you." 
 
 " Thank you kindly, sir," was the soft response, and 
 then the vicar stood aside to let me pass. 
 
 On my right, behind the door as I entered, was a small 
 iron bed, upon which a young girl lay on her back, wdth 
 her head slightly raised. Her thick, short, dark hair was 
 loose on the pillow. She looked at me gravely as I ap- 
 proached her, but a pleased expression came into her large 
 
152 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 luminous eyes when we had shaken hands. There was a 
 striking peculiarity about her eyes. The iris, which was 
 the grey of chinchilla in colour, had an outer edge of 
 black. 
 
 " Sit down, miss, please," she said. " Would you 
 kindly give the young lady a chair, sir ? " 
 
 " The young lady is a married lady," the vicar informed 
 her, smiling, as he complied with her request. 
 
 Janey looked at me solemnly, as if she thought it a 
 pity, or was making an effort to alter her first impres- 
 sion. 
 
 " Have you been ill long ? " I asked, when the vicar 
 had left us. 
 
 " Two years," she answered, raising her hands to catch 
 hold of a round ruler-like stick which hung suspended 
 above her by a rope from the ceiling, forming a handle 
 within easy reach, by grasping which she was enabled to 
 alter her position a little. " Me arms and 'ead is all I can 
 move," she explained ; " but it's a mercy I've got the use 
 o' them." 
 
 She spoke in the mellow north-country manner, smooth- 
 ing the rugged aspirates out as it were, so that in the soft- 
 ened effect of her phrases their absence did not strike un- 
 pleasantly. 
 
 The head of her bed just fitted into a space beside the 
 window, and, her back being turned to the light, she had 
 nothing to look at but the opposite wall, from which the 
 dingy paper, unrelieved by any picture, was dropping. 
 Fancy, for two years lying looking at that ! was my mental 
 ejaculation. 
 
 " I'm most tired o' countin' the squares on it," Janey 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 153 
 
 cheerfully observed, as if she had divined my thoughts 
 when I turned round to look at it. 
 
 Iler face contracted with pain after she had spoken, 
 and she caught at her knee with one hand. " It's me 
 legs," she explained ; " they're all drowered up, and they 
 do twitch. When I cam' out o' 'ospital the doctor 'e tol' 
 mother to keep 'em stretched out an' not on no account to 
 let 'em drower up ; but mother she 'ad nobbut this little 
 bed for me, an' it 'as to be too short because o' the door, 
 which wouldn't open with it any longer, so they had to 
 drower up. It was to be, you see." 
 
 '' Why, you must be tall ! " I exclaimed. " I thought 
 you were quite a little body." 
 
 Janey smiled. " Eh, but I'm bigger nor you are, four 
 inches, I should think." 
 
 This would make her between five feet eight and nine, 
 and the bed could not have been more than five feet 
 long. 
 
 " What did they do for you in the hospital ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, they brought amany doctors to see me," she an- 
 swered, " 'an they put weights on me legs, to keep 'em 
 straight. My ! they did 'urt ! But I was gettin' on well 
 enough, until one night when there was a great storm, and 
 me bed was under a window, an' it blowed in, an' I called 
 an' called, but the nurses didn't come an' I couldn't move 
 meself, nor not another in the ward could move me, for 
 we was all on us 'elpless. An' the rain blew in on me all 
 night, an' no nurse cam' till seven nex' mornin', an' then 
 one come for something, an' I ses to 'er, ' nurse, it's bin 
 rainin' on me, an' I'm all cold an' wet.' ' You just wait 
 till your betters 'as breakfasted,' she ses, an' off she goes. 
 
154 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 an' it was 'alf past eight an' more before she corned to 
 move me, an' me teeth chatterin' that 'ard you could 'ear 
 'em. An' one of the women in the ward, she said it was 
 sliameful neglec', an' she'd tell the doctor, an' the nurse 
 said, threatenin' like, ' You'd better ! ' But she did, an' 
 my, 'e did go on at that nurse awful ! He icas vexed ! 
 An' she did treat that poor woman cruel afterwards. 
 She'd do nothin' for 'er. I've 'eard 'er call an' call an' 
 call, for she was 'elpless too, an' nurse 'ud come back an' 
 look at 'er an' laugh, and she in that pain ; an' the nurse 
 would say, ' You'll tell tales o' me again, will you ? ' They 
 isn't lady nurses they 'as 'ere, you know, m'am," Janey 
 broke off to explain tolerantly. " They's just common 
 ignorant servants, an' when they gets called nurse, an' the 
 doctors speaks to 'em confidential like, it seems to turn 
 their 'eads, an' they don't know 'ow nasty to be. There's 
 gentlemen comes round every week to ask if we 'aven't no 
 complaints, an' we said as we'd tell 'em, but we was timid 
 of 'em ; and there was one woman who'd bin there afore 
 said it wasn't no use neither, because it 'ad bin doue in 'er 
 time, an' the patient wot complained got the wost of it, 
 because the nurses all swore she was a untruthful, trouble- 
 some person, an' the other patients i' the ward was afraid 
 to contradict 'em for fear they'd use 'em awful after- 
 wards." 
 
 " And did it do you no harm, that wetting ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered in a casual way ; " I had 
 rheumatic fever an' inflammation of the lungs, an' it 
 seemed as if there wasn't much to be done for me after- 
 wards, for the doctor sent me 'ome, an' on'y tol' mother 
 to keep me legs straight." 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 155 
 
 " And while you were so ill were the nurses good to 
 you?" 
 
 " Well, you see," she answered temperately, " they 'ad n't 
 much to do for me, for mother she used to slip in reg'lar 
 an' make me comfortable 'erself, an' the nurses they'd 
 wink at 'er comin' cos it saved 'em a deal o' trouble." 
 
 This happened in the confident days of my youth, 
 when I was still under the delusion that wrongs would 
 be righted directly if those in authority were informed 
 of the fact ; and when I left Janey that afternoon I has- 
 tened to see an old lady whose husband was one of the 
 gentlemen visitors to the hospital, and who was herself 
 much interested in the institution. They were both by 
 way of being kind and charitable, and were also people 
 of position who could have instituted searching enquiries 
 into the truth of Janey's statements, but to my conster- 
 nation when I told her story, the old lady answered in a 
 tone which showed that she resented my interference : — 
 " Oh, these people are never satisfied ! They are always 
 complaining of something. You should know better than 
 to listen to them. We both visit the hospital regularly 
 and have never yet seen anything wrong." 
 
 As Janey finished speaking, the door behind me 
 opened, and some one entered with a slouching step. 
 
 " It's on'y father," Janey explained. 
 
 I turned to speak to him, and he came up to me with 
 an imbecile smile, holding out his hand. 
 
 " For shame, father ! " Janey exclaimed as if she were 
 
 chiding a child; "you did oughter know better nor to 
 
 offer yer 'and to a lady. Touch yer 'ead now, an' be'ave, 
 
 else go away." 
 11 
 
156 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 Fatlier went away. 
 
 " You must acscuse 'im, m'am," Janey proceeded ; 
 " 'e's got the softenin' of the brain, an' knows no more 
 nor a child, an' 'e's very troublesome at times; it takes 
 me all I can do to mind 'im. The neighbours says whv 
 don't we put 'im away,* but mother she say no, 'e 'ave 
 bin a good 'usband to 'er, an' please God she'll do for 'im 
 as long as she can do for 'im, us 'elpin' 'er, an' 'e'll not be 
 put away afore 'e goes to 'is long 'ome. Ah ! " she burst 
 out on hearing the slouching steps returning, " would you 
 now? You'll not come in an' sit down an' a lady 'ere, 
 you know ; you just go an' take a walk. See ! there's the 
 sun out. Make your bow an' be off wi' you, an' you shall 
 'ave summat good to eat." 
 
 Father raised the tips of his fingers to his forehead, 
 and slouched off again obediently — out of the house this 
 time, for I saw him pass the window with his eyes fixed on 
 the distant prospect of that " summat good to eat," I judged 
 by the idiotic smile which had remained on his lips since 
 the bribe was held out to him. " Bless you, 'e knows 
 ev'ry word I ses to 'im," Janey proudly declared, grasp- 
 ing the handle which hung from the ceiling and altering 
 her position uneasily. " It's me legs again," she ex- 
 plained ; " they do pain wi' them twitches. Look at 'em ! 
 I can do nothin' wi' 'em." 
 
 A series of jerks here under the bed-clothes testified 
 to the troublesome twitches. 
 
 * The poor here never use the word asylum if they can help it ; 
 the insane are said to be " put away," like precious things, " to be 
 taken care of." 
 
JANEY, A nUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. I57 
 
 "You can't control them, then?" I inquired. 
 
 " Oh, no, I can't do notliin' wi' 'em," she repeated. 
 "I can't move 'em at all, /can't. It do seem wonder- 
 ful, don't it, 'ow they can go o' themselves ? " 
 
 Here her mother entered, a stout woman who would 
 still have been comely but for the deep lines which the 
 " reckless production " of her large family had worn 
 upon her face, marking it with a permanent expression 
 of exhaustion. 
 
 She apologised querulously for disturbing me, but 
 would I " acscuse " her if she spoke to Janey, because 
 " the baker 'ad come an' she didn't know about the 
 bread, there bein' nobbut a 'eel left in the jar, them boys 
 ate so much." 
 
 " Well, I got three yeste'day," Janey said, pulling a 
 little purse out from under her pillow, " an' two to-day's 
 as much as you can 'ave, let who will do wi'out." She 
 handed her mother some coppers as she spoke, and the 
 latter, after curtsying to me, meekly withdrew. 
 
 " There's a deal to think of i' a 'ouse like this," 
 Janey remarked. " Father gets twelve shillin's a week 
 from the club, an' the railway allows 'im another six, 
 that's eighteen, and two o' the boys bring in four a week 
 each, that's eight, an' eighteen — two eights six — twenty- 
 six, an' eight for rent out 0' that, and then there's clo's, 
 not to mention boots, and the children do wear out 
 aman}^, you'd be surprised, specially the boys. They're 
 thro' 'em i' no time, an' repairs comes 'eavy. It takes 
 me all my time lyin' 'ere to think an contrive for 'em, for 
 mother she can't be axspected to do much. She gets the 
 boys' breakfasts at five i' the mornin', an' keeps about 
 
158 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 a bit, washin' up an' cleanin', an' doing odds an' ends, 
 but by the time she's dressed me an' father, she's about 
 done 'erself, an' 'as to lie down till tea, an' as to thinkin', 
 it can't be axspected of 'er wi' father that 'elpless, an' 
 that troublesome at times, an' all, you wouldn't believe ! 
 'E won't stay in, an' 'e won't go out, nor do nothin', an' 
 'e can't talk much, you know, to tell you what's the mat- 
 ter. Are you going, m'am? Well, thank you kindly for 
 the visit. An' p'raps you'll come again. I'd be glad to 
 see you. There was amany corned at first, ladies an' all, 
 but now I scarcely sees a one, an' it do seem to do a body 
 good like, you know, to see company. You don't get 
 tired o' your own folks, but you want a change. It's 
 like breathin' ; you go on doin' of it whatever the air is, 
 but when the winder's bin shut a long time an' someone 
 comes an' opens it, my ! " — she drew a deep breath — " it's 
 like new life, the freshness is." 
 
 After this first visit, I made it a rule to go and see 
 Janey regularly every Monday afternoon, an arrangement 
 of which she highly approved. " It gives you something 
 to look forward to like," she said, by which ambiguous 
 expression she meant humbly to allude to her own feel- 
 ings in the matter. But, indeed, I very soon learnt to 
 look forward myself to the time I should spend with 
 Janey, listening to her simple talk, and taken out of my 
 own narrow groove by the largeness of nature which 
 found an interest and had some sympathy for every phase 
 of human being. It was Janey who taught me to per- 
 ceive that there is no distinction of great or small in the 
 value of the details of such daily life as we discussed. 
 The placing of the sons of a gentleman in professions may 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. I59 
 
 seem at a glance to be a more important matter than the 
 finding of work for such small fry as Janey's brothers ; 
 but as an evidence of human worth, when you come to 
 compare the resources of the one with the poverty of the 
 other, the position of the gentleman with that of the 
 paralysed girl who, doubled up with pain on her short 
 bed, thought and arranged and " fended " for her whole 
 family, all the wonder and respect was for the latter, as it 
 is for the skilful if less perfect work of a man as distin- 
 guished from the mechanical exactness produced without 
 thought by machines. 
 
 My fellow sheep in society, all crowding one after the 
 other to get through the fashionable gap of the moment 
 together, would have stared as at an imbecility had they 
 heard it asserted that mine was the petty existence with 
 its dinners, dances, dresses, and all the stultifying round 
 of accustomed inanities, and Janey's was the larger life ; 
 but that was the fact. Janey was the human being, 
 purposeful and versatile ; I was the society machine, doing 
 just what was expected of me exactly as the other 
 machines did, without happiness and without heart in it. 
 I knew this from the difference between Janey's effect on 
 me and that of the other machines. The latter had the 
 power of expressing the correctest sentiments on all 
 occasions, and I could reply in like manner, each being 
 the better perhaps for the exercise of politeness, but 
 neither touching the other because neither felt. Now 
 with Janey it was just the opposite. Her powers of ex- 
 pression were chiefly facial : the look in her large grey 
 eyes, tlie slight smile or compression of her lips, the nod 
 of her wise head indicated depths of feeling not to be 
 
IGO JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 plumbed ; and witliout words, solely by force of feeling, 
 she made me recognise in her a very loving loyal friend, 
 and one who more than any lived in my interests most 
 sincerely. The story of my life from week to week was 
 of vital importance to her. She drew forth by dint of 
 sympathy confessions and confidences no other woman 
 could have wrung from me, and on many a weary day, 
 sitting beside her little bed, I have felt my sorely con- 
 tracted heart expand, and the hard burden of my own 
 coldness melt in the warmth that came glowing with the 
 return of the power to care— to love. 
 
 I was also indebted to Janey for many a valuable hint 
 on the management of my household. She had made the 
 most of her time in service, and observed just where the 
 mistress was in fault as well as the maids ; but she dealt 
 impartially with both of us. 
 
 At first I used to shrink from telling her of walks and 
 rides and drives, the contrast seemed so cruel ; but she 
 was too finely tempered to think of that, and soon showed 
 me that such small share in my advantages as the descrip- 
 tion of these could give her w^as an enlivening pleasure to 
 her, not a source of envy and despair. We had many a 
 merry laugh together in that close little room, carefully 
 smothered though for fear of disturbing mother, who 
 would be asleep in the room above ; and we had many 
 long silences too, listening to the intermittent regularity 
 of the weary steam-hammer, going in the great ironworks 
 at the back — breaking out into heavy beats that made the 
 cottage quiver, then pausing for an appreciable time, 
 then on again, thump, thump, thump, incessantly day 
 and night. Poor Janey ! " Sometimes it seems to shake 
 
^^S£U;,\ JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 101 
 
 me," she said, " an' when I sleep I feel it crushin' me 'ere 
 an' crushin' me there, an' when I wake it goes on i' me 
 'ead till I long not to feel nothin' no more — if you know 
 what I mean. I don't want to be dead, which 'ud be 
 wicked; but I just do want not to 'ear or know. Then 
 there's the men. They comes out from their work i' 
 there 'eavy clogs, changin' shifts, six hours on an' six 
 hours off, an' I do dread 'em comin', for the clatter's 
 awful. But of course there must alius be somethin'," 
 she concluded, " an' you 'ave your troubles too as keeps 
 you wakin' o' a night as well as me " — and so she would 
 return to my affairs. 
 
 I had made her a picture gallery, with colored prints 
 from the Christmas papers, by this time, and kept her 
 room sweet with flowers, both cut and growing. And I 
 had also taught her how to crochet edging, and make 
 warm woollen comforters on a frame, light w^ork that 
 could be done in a recumbent position, and- afterwards 
 sold. Being able to make a little money in this way was 
 a great addition to Janey's happiness just then, for her 
 brothers had got out of work, and the family were in 
 poorer circumstances than ever. A few days before Christ- 
 mas I happened to ask her what they were all going to 
 have for their Christmas dinner. 
 
 She put her hand under her pillow where she kept the 
 family purse, and answered cheerfully : " Oh, I'll just get 
 mother to go out and buy some beef pieces to make a pud- 
 din' for the childer. You don't know what beef pieces 
 is ? The bits, you know, the butcher trims off of joints. 
 'E sells 'em cheap at night, an' if you boil em long enough 
 they're not too 'ard." 
 
162 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 Neither Jiiuey nor any of her family were beggars, and 
 I had always felt great delicacy about offering them 
 money ; but when I went home that day it occurred to me 
 that Santa Claus might send them a surprise at Christmas. 
 So we got a big hamper, and filled it with Christmas fare 
 — beef, mince-pies, a plum pudding, apples, nuts, toys for 
 the children, a fowl for the invalids, fuel for cooking, but- 
 ter, eggs, lard, and anything else we could think of ; and 
 after dark, on Christmas eve, two of the servants put it 
 down at the door, knocked, and ran away. 
 
 I missed my regular day, and did not see Janey for 
 some time after this, hoping that, when I did go, the 
 hamper would be forgotten, and Janey would have ex- 
 cused my absence on the ground of the busy time I had 
 had ; but in this I was allowing little for Janey's discern- 
 ment. 
 
 " It seems quite a long time since I saw you," I began. 
 
 " Yes," Janey answered, " but you needn't 'a' stayed 
 away for fear we'd thank you too much for the 'amper. I 
 know what it is meself. You feel awkward like when 
 you've got to be thanked ; an' I ses to mother, don't you 
 go an' say too much now. Eh ! it was a surprise ! I just 
 'appened to be readin' a story in a paper that mornin', of 
 'ow some poor folks 'ad a big 'amper left at their door, an' 
 I told it to mother while she was washin' me, an' mother 
 she ses, ' Oh, yes ! them things 'appens in books, but not 
 in real life. It's easy enough to make things come right 
 when a scratch o' the pen can do it.' But, 'owever, that 
 very night I was lyin' 'ere i' the dark, to save candle, an' 
 there cam' a big knock at the door that fairly made me 
 jump, an' then I 'card footsteps runnin' away, an' I calls 
 
JANEY, A UUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 1G3 
 
 out to mother, * Don't go, mother, it's a runaway.' But 
 she went all the same, an' I 'eard 'er exclaim, an' then 
 there was a draggin' of summat 'eavy about, an' mother 
 she comes in, an' I could 'ear by 'er voice she was all of a 
 trimble like, an' she ses to me solemn, ' Janey,' she ses, 
 ' tilings do 'appen sometimes in real life like as if it was a 
 book.' An' then ! if I didn't know the moment she said 
 it what she meant ; but I couldn't say nawthin', I was so 
 took to. Then mother, she got a light, an' she an' Walter, 
 me eldest brother, brought in the 'amper for me to see it 
 unpacked, an' all the other childer stood around, and 
 Tommy 'e say, ' Suppose it's a 'oax ? ' An' AValter told 
 'im it would 'a' bin if 'e 'a' 'ad anything to do wi' it, an' 
 punched 'is 'ead to make 'im shut up ; an' then mother 
 began, an' took the things out one after the other as 
 solemn as could be all the time, though the children 
 shouted, on'y when she cam' to the beef she weighed it i' 
 'er 'and like, an' ses : ' Sixteen pounds, I do believe ! ' 
 An' then she puts 'er 'and into the 'amper again, an' 
 there at the bottom was the firin' to cook it, an' at that she 
 just throw'd 'er apron up over 'er face, an' sat 'erself down 
 in that there chair, an' rocked 'erself to an' fro, an' 'ad a 
 good cry, an' that relieved 'er. An' little Georgie 'e say : 
 ' Go's 'urt mother?' An' I ses : ' 'Ush, Georgie, no one's 
 'urt mother. Mother's on'y very glad, that's all.' An' it 
 was queer to see the little chap stannin' lookin' at 'er puz- 
 zled like, you know^ 'E don't cry when 'e's glad, 'e don't ! 
 An' eh ! that beef, m'am ! It was as sweet as a nut ! an' 
 that tender I could eat it i' spite o' me teeth." 
 
 She had lost almost all her teeth, a defect which did 
 not disfigure her because she scarcely parted her lips when 
 
lOi JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 slic smiled. " But indeed I'm glad they're gone," she said 
 to me, alluding to her teeth, "for they was nobbut a 
 trouble while I 'ad any. They began to go while 1 was in 
 service i' London, an' my missus, as was a very good livin' 
 lady an' kind to us all, down to me as was nobbut scullery 
 maid then, she 'card I 'ad toothache, an' she ses she'd send 
 me to a dentist place. It's a kind o' charity. You don't 
 pay. I think young gents goes there to learn the dentistry 
 business, an' my ! they do torture you. I didn't know 
 what it was, else I'd not 'ave gone, not was it ever so. 'Im 
 as did my teeth used to get me 'ead fast in a chair, an' put 
 a thing in me mouth to 'old it open, an' then 'e'd leave me 
 like that, an' go an' laugh an' talk wi' the other young 
 gents ; an' when 'e 'urt me an' I'd make a noise, 'e used 
 to say : ' Now jest you shut up. You know you're a pau- 
 per an' gets all this 'tendance for nothin', an' good den- 
 tistry too.' But it wasn't good dentistry," she added, " for 
 it 'urt awful all the time, an' didn't last." 
 
 This casual glimpse of the price which the unfortu- 
 nates who have to rely upon " charity " pay for the same 
 is the kind of thing which makes one long to visit such 
 " young gents " with a big stick while one's blood is boil- 
 ing ; but Janey was not by way of complaining. She held 
 that to do and to suffer were an inevitable and necessary 
 part of to be. 
 
 "Then," she continued, "I did for 'em in 'ospital 
 meself, for they 'urt that bad I begged 'em to give me 
 summat, an' they got me creosote, an' one of the nurses 
 she tol' me, ' If you use that, you'll not 'ave a tooth left i' 
 your 'ead. It'll destroy them all.' 'An',' I ses, 'all the 
 better.' An' sure enough it did destroy 'em all, axpress, 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 1C5 
 
 but a stump or two, an' I wisli they'd go as well, I do, for 
 they're nowt but a bother." She smiled as she spoke, then 
 pulled herself up a little by the rope hanging from the 
 ceiling, and apologised for the vagaries of her legs, " which 
 do jum]) so as never was to-day." 
 
 "How did your illness begin, Jauey?" I asked. 
 
 " It was carryin' 'eavy weights before I'd done growing 
 begun it," she answered. *' Me aunt, me father's sister, 
 ^vas cook in a gentleman's 'ouse, an' when I was fifteen I 
 was a big gell, and she ses, ' Send Janey to me an' I'll 
 make 'er scullery maid, an' she'll get to be kitchen maid 
 an' cook in time.' An' me aunt was that particular it 
 seemed like as if I'd niver no rest, for when I wasn't 
 workin' 'n the kitchen, she made me sit down to sewin', 
 makin' me own things — an' eh ! I did get together a good 
 set out! But I 'ad to carry 'eavy saucepans of water an' 
 things, an' likely strained meself even afore I got to be 
 kitchen maid, an' after that the work was 'arder nor ever ; 
 but I sent mother 'ome a lot of money ! Then I began to 
 feel queer i' me legs, an' one day I jest flopped down on 
 me knees an' couldn't get up again, an' me aunt was cross. 
 She thouglit I was shammin'. But that passed off, on'y I 
 went on gettiu' weak an' feelin' bad i' me back, till at last 
 you could see as I couldn't drag on any more, an' I ses* 
 * Oh, aunt, you'll not scold, for I can't ; I tol' you I'd go 
 on till I dropped, an' I 'ave.' Then she spake to missus 
 to send me 'ome for a rest : an' while I was at 'ome me 
 legs lost all power on a suddent, an' that time it didn't 
 come back, an' then mother took me to a 'ospital, an' the 
 very first question the doctor ast me was 'ad I 'ad a fall. 
 An' at first I ses no, an' then it come back to me all of a 
 
166 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 'eap. I was 'urrying down stairs one day afraid aunt 'ud 
 scold me for bein' late an' lazy, an' I slipped an' fell on 
 me back ; an' when I came to think on it as sure as enny- 
 think it was from that time I felt the pain." 
 
 Armed with these details, I went to consult a specialist 
 about Janey, in the forlorn hope that there might still be 
 something to be done for her. He said, so far as he could 
 form an opinion without seeing her, he should be inclined 
 to suppose that it was a case of hysterical paralysis, a thing 
 which might have been cured if properly treated in time. 
 But he shook his head and was doubtful now when he 
 heard about her legs being drawn up to her. The thing, 
 however, was to arouse in her a strong desire to recover. 
 Singularly enough I had never heard her express any wish 
 on the subject. She had evidently been a "show case " in 
 the hospital, a subject of peculiar interest to the medical 
 men which led to her being made much of ; and when first 
 she returned home after she was stricken hopelessly, as it 
 was supposed, numbers of people had come to see her, 
 more out of curiosity than kindness — the sort of people 
 who are collected by the excitement of a great calamity, 
 but disappear when its effect upon themselves wears off. 
 Janey, however, had enjoyed her little notoriety, and the 
 being " fussed up," too much at the time to suffer acutely 
 from fear of the dreadful future before her. As the days 
 wore on, however, and there was no change in her to keep 
 the first fiash of interest alive in her visitors, their visits 
 became fewer and fewer, until at last the good vicar, his 
 wife, the scripture reader and myself were all who ever 
 came to vary the monotony of the long dull days. A propos 
 of this falling off of her friends Janey gave me a bright 
 
JANEY, A nUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 167 
 
 instance of her patient moderation. I had been feeling 
 indignant with tliose people who had only paid Janey 
 attention while they could make capital of her case from 
 which to draw large interest for their conversation ; and I 
 was especially angry with one lady who accepted credit for 
 her supposed devotion to the poor girl while all the time 
 neglecting to visit her. 
 
 " She has not been to see you yet, then ? '* I happened 
 to remark one day, involuntarily implying a reproach, I 
 am afraid. 
 
 " Ah, well, you sec," said Janey tolerantly, " she 'as 
 amany things to do, an' must find it 'ard to remember 'em 
 all. When she ses she'll come she means to right enough ; 
 but one thing crowds another out o' 'er mind, an' that's 
 'ow it 'appens she forgets me." 
 
 Shakespeare puts it more concisely : 
 
 " What we do determine oft we break ; 
 Purpose is but the slave to memory." 
 
 But Janey's kindly wisdom only differed from his in 
 the expression of it. 
 
 "Do you like being read to, Janey?" I asked, soon 
 after our acquaintance began. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, not very enthusiastically. 
 " Scripter reader and the vicar they comes an' reads." 
 
 " What do they read to you ? " 
 
 " The Bible, as is what they're paid to do, you know," 
 she answered, with a fine appreciation of the obligation 
 entailed to honestly earn one's wages. " An' Miss Ilawke, 
 she used to read to me about the martyrs till I got the 
 'orrors thinkin' of 'cm. Mrs. Miller used to read too, 
 
1G8 JAXEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 an' Mrs. Frier, about this miserable world an' all people 
 'as to bear, till I was that low sperrited I used to lie 'ere 
 an' cry to meself alone. An' they used to read about 
 'eaven too, an' ow' 'appy we should be to think o' goin' 
 there, an' 'ow all this affliction was sent to try us. I used 
 to be thinkin' too much about gettin' well at first, but 
 Mrs. Frier she tol' me that w^asn't right, that we should 
 bear what the Lord sends us wi'out repining, an' be 
 thankful when 'e doesn't make it no 'arder for enny on 
 us nor 'e 'as for me, black sinner as I am." 
 
 " Then Mrs. Frier told you all wrong," I answered 
 boldly. " That is a demon she worships, a frightful spirit 
 who wantonly tortures us." Janey look startled. *' Does 
 a father afflict his children ? " I asked her. She shook 
 her head dubiously. *' He may chide and punish, but he 
 doesn't injure them," I pursued — " and you are to think 
 of getting well." 
 
 After that I began to read her cheerful secular stories 
 to fill her with a wholesome love of life, and carefully 
 avoided all those goody-goody productions which, by 
 preaching a stultifying resignation, would naturally tend 
 to confirm her in her hopeless condition. 
 
 After Christmas the circumstances of the family had 
 greatly improved, thanks to Janey, who had worked won- 
 ders from her sick bed, having, by dint of boldly sending 
 for people to beg their help, and writing curiously spelt 
 missives in her queer unpractised hand, succeeded in 
 placing three of her brothers and a sister in situations — 
 one brother as grocer's assistant, another in a printing 
 office, the third in the " works," and her sister in service ; 
 and as all four children, according to the custom of the 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 169 
 
 county, contributed to the support of " the home," the 
 pinch of poverty was no longer felt there. Janey herself 
 too, not content Avith "minding father," ordering his go- 
 ings out and his comings in, his food and clothing, ad- 
 ministering the funds of the family to the best advantage 
 for everybody, and managing the household generally, 
 had taken the child of a girl in the neighbourhood who 
 had " 'appened a misfortune " — to use her own quaint 
 euphemism — " to tend," by which she made a few more 
 shillings a week herself. The child, a little girl, required 
 a good deal of " tending," being about a year old, very 
 sturdy, and just able to toddle ; but Janey, lying on her 
 back in bed, only just able to move her arms, did wonders 
 with her, keeping 'her amused from the time she woke 
 till she fell asleep again, simply by talking to her, and 
 " all the while 'aving an eye to father," who was apt to be 
 troublesome if Janey's vigilance relaxed. She had a long 
 stick with a handle now, a most useful instrument with 
 which she could reach to any part of the room, using it 
 like a shepherd's crook, opening and shutting the door 
 with it, pulling the baby back to her bedside by her waist- 
 belt when she crept out of reach, and administering 
 condign punishment to father if she caught him " at his 
 tricks," to which, after the arrival of the baby, he had 
 added breaking her playthings, stealing her sweets, and 
 slyly pinching her. 
 
 " Poor father ! " Janey exclaimed tenderly. " When 
 mother goes out an' leaves 'im for me to tend, it do seem 
 as if 'e knew I Avas 'elpless, 'e do be'ave that bad. An' 'e 
 can't abide the baby. 'E's kind of jealous of 'er, I think, 
 an' would do 'er a mischief if it wasn't for the stick. I 
 
lYO JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 catches 'im glowerin' at 'er, but if 'e sees I sees 'im 'e 
 pretends it's summat else 'e's lookiu' at, for e's that cun- 
 ning — you wouldn't believe ! But I jest shakes the stick 
 at 'im, an' ses : ' Ugh ! you would, would you ? ' an' e's as 
 meek as Mary 'ad a little lamb." 
 
 Xow that they were more comfortably off, Janey de- 
 cided at my instigation to move to a better house, where 
 there would be room for her to have a full-sized bed and 
 more accommodation generally, besides the relief of quiet 
 after the thud of the steam hammer and roar of the big 
 ironworks at the back, and the heavy patter of clogged 
 feet on the petrified pats of butter of which the pavement 
 in front appeared to be composed. The mother, helpless, 
 querulous, fatalistic, and a chronic sufferer from extreme 
 debility, had no energy for the move. It would upset 
 Janey, she was sure, and disagree with father, and so on ; 
 but I overcame her opposition by showing her that she 
 had already been to blame for allowing Janey's legs to 
 contract so much, and it was her duty now to put herself 
 out to any extent necessary for Janey's good. The latter 
 was nervous herself about being moved. She had not 
 been out of her little room for three years, and the 
 thought of being carried through the streets " an' seein' 
 'em all again " excited her ^ so much that she was pros- 
 trated for days before the event. When the ordeal was 
 over, however, and she found herself in a, comparatively 
 speaking, large bright room, newly papered, with plants 
 growing in a box outside the window, pictures in frames 
 on the walls, a big armchair for father, a delightful 
 spring bed for herself, and a cot for baby, she said she 
 felt as if she could sit up ! 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 171 
 
 " Of course you will sit up," I answered. " It is only 
 a matter of time." 
 
 I had been telling her this, and trying to rouse her out 
 of the depressing state of resignation I had found her 
 preached into, ever since I had consulted the specialist on 
 her account. After I had spoken she looked at me in 
 a shy timorous way, as if she wanted to say something, 
 but did not like to, and she had a cheap-looking publica- 
 tion in her hand which she was fingering nervously. 
 
 " What is it, Janey ? " I asked. " You must tell me." 
 
 She bent her head towards me, and spoke in a mys- 
 terious whisper. 
 
 " Do you believe in faith-healing ? " she asked, and 
 then she held out the penny publication. 
 
 There was a good deal in the papers just then about 
 faith-healing a propos of the " miraculous cures " brought 
 about by pilgrimages to Lourdes and elsewhere, and know- 
 ing that marvellous results really had followed the effects 
 of excitement and " faith " in the minds of hysterical pa- 
 tients, I saw a possible chance for Janey, and answered 
 without hesitation, " Yes, I do." 
 
 One of her brothers had brought in a paper on the 
 subject published by a society then practising faith-heal- 
 ing in London. Many most interesting accounts were 
 given of cures effected at prayer meetings, and on what 
 would otherwise have been the patient's death-bed. The 
 reports were worked up with much detail, which made 
 them exciting reading for one in Janey's condition, and I 
 could feel that she was watching me with great anxiety 
 and trepidation as I perused them. 
 
 " Do you believe it ? " she asked again eagerly. 
 13 
 
172 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 *' I believe you are just one of the best cases to try it 
 on. I think you could be greatly benefited by this kind 
 of thing," I answered. " I will write them an account of 
 your trouble, if you like, and ask them what they would 
 recommend." 
 
 Janey pulled herself half up by her rope hanging from 
 the ceiling, then let herself drop on her pillow again, not 
 knowing how to contain her eagerness and anxiety. 
 
 My letter was addressed to a lady who seemed to be 
 one of the leaders of the faith-healing movement, and by 
 return of post I received a gentle, courteous reply, the 
 sum and substance of which was : " Is not this dear child 
 
 committed to your care ? Eead " then followed a list 
 
 of texts, which, I regret to say, I have lost and forgotten. 
 I had boldly suggested that the faith-healers should come 
 and cure my Janey if they could, but they preferred to 
 let me have the credit of curing her myself, it seemed — 
 also if possible, I suppose. But, allowing that " this dear 
 child " was committed to my care, how much should I be 
 justified in doing to enable her to apply her strength of 
 mind to the healing of her body ? I knew well what ex- 
 traordinary results have been brought about by the influ- 
 ence of mind on matter, and also knew with what child- 
 like confidence she would carry out any suggestion I might 
 make ; would it be right to try ? But how could it be 
 otherwise ? I did think of consulting some one wiser 
 than myself, but then I was afraid of being discouraged, 
 and I knew the experiment could only be well made by 
 one without doubt and all enthusiasm. 
 
 I took the whole week to screw up my courage, I con- 
 fess, but when my next day came for visiting Janey I went 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 173 
 
 in bravely and told her I could help her to cure herself, ex- 
 plaining that I was not able to do it by the means which 
 the society employed, but that I had a method of my own 
 which was just as effectual. I told her also that I should 
 require a piano to help me, and would send one during 
 the week, and recommended her to begin at once to be- 
 lieve firmly that she was going to be cured. 
 
 Janey heard me with reverent attention, and when I 
 left her there was a glow in her grey eyes and an expres- 
 sion of exaltation on her face that frightened me. Sup- 
 pose I made bad worse ? The thought was alarming ; but 
 I felt I must go on now and do something, otherwise I 
 should be running the risk of making bad worse in an- 
 other way, by inflicting a dreadful disappointment on 
 Janey, and robbing her through myself of her faith in 
 her fellow-creatures. 
 
 We had decided, between ourselves, not to mention 
 the experiment to any one until we had tried it. Janey 
 agreed with me that the attempt would create a disturb- 
 ing amount of interest among her people, and I was afraid 
 of the criticism, not to mention the ridicule of my own. 
 
 Janey was delicately emotional, I knew, for I had read 
 her Tennyson and Longfellow, and seen her transparent 
 skin suffused with pale pink flushes of pure pleasure when 
 I came to the passages that specially appealed to her. She 
 would repeat such words as : 
 
 " . . . . the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, 
 And the musk of the roses blown," 
 
 lovingly ; and mount to an evident devotional enthusiasm 
 on lines like : 
 
174 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 " Ah, Lover ! Brother ! Guide ! Lamp of the Law ! 
 I take my refuge in thy name and thee ! 
 I take my refuge in thy Law of Good ! 
 I take ray refuge in thy Order ! Om ! 
 The dew is on the lotus ! — Rise, Great Sun ! 
 And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. 
 Om mani padmi hum, the Sunrise comes ! 
 The Dewdrop slips into the shining Sea." 
 
 And it had occurred to me that if words whose mean- 
 ings she could only gather approximately had power to 
 move her deeply chiefly by the rhythm and sound of 
 them, then music must certainly be a most effectual 
 adjunct to any attempt to work upon her will pleasurably 
 through her emotions ; and therefore the piano. 
 
 I found her on the eventful day in a state of quiet ex- 
 altation, which contrasted favourably with the inward 
 trepidation from which I was suffering. She was full of 
 confidence — faith, she called it. Father and the baby had 
 been sent out for the afternoon, that there might be no 
 interruption. The piano had been placed by her direc- 
 tion so that she might see my fingers as I played, and I 
 found she had put her best dressing-jacket on, and had 
 herself and the room smartened up to the utmost extent, 
 as for a festive occasion. 
 
 I dared not hesitate, so I began at once — feeling all 
 the time as if I were doing a deed of darkness — practising 
 a black forbidden art. 
 
 "You know what faith is, Janey?" I said sol- 
 emnly. " You must believe that there is a great power 
 which can and will cure you, and that presently you 
 will be able to sit up again. You must rest on that 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 175 
 
 thought, as it were, and let it make you feel happy and 
 strong." 
 
 Janey grasped the handles of the rope suspended 
 above her with both hands, and drew a deep breath. 
 " Will it come all of a sudden ? " she whispered. 
 
 " I cannot tell," I replied. " But don't look about the 
 room. Watch my fingers as I play ; listen to the music ; 
 and, above every thing, /eeZ it. Open your heart to it as 
 to a great joy ; let it tingle through you ; and be sure that 
 it will bring new life to you." 
 
 I had begun to believe in it myself by this time, and 
 sat down to the piano in nearly as great a state of exalta- 
 tion as Janey was, fortunately, for otherwise I should have 
 been nervous ; but as it was I could play — better than my 
 best, I fancied. I chose the music which " speaks to the 
 heart alone," and was conscious at first of how it was 
 affecting Janey ; but presently I forgot her, and, drifting 
 off to measures that affect the imagination, I became 
 absorbed. The world without passed from my compre- 
 hension. There was an interval filled with sensations of 
 sound alone, then the faculty by the aid of which we 
 walk in dreams awoke, uncertainly at first, scenes ap- 
 pearing as on a misty morning, blurred into vagueness. 
 This, however, was but a borderland of shadows, which, 
 rapidly stirring, left me wrapped in the contemplation of 
 a great procession which was passing slowly between high 
 houses down a narrow street. The houses were yellow 
 stone, and above them there was a slender strip of sky, 
 intensely blue, with one great white dazzling mass of sun- 
 briglit cloud upon it. It was a procession of women in 
 flowing robes of exquisite amethyst tints. They walk in 
 
176 JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 step, carrying harps, on which they played an accompani- 
 ment while they sang : — " To us ! to us it is given to do 
 great deeds ! " And so singing they came to the end of 
 the long street of flat-roofed Oriental houses with tiny 
 casements, and passed out into the open desert, where the 
 heat radiated upwards from the yellow sand. And here 
 they sejoarated as water separates, spreading widely when 
 it emerges from a narrow channel into an open space, but 
 still flowing on in one direction ; so they separated, each 
 reclining on the invisible air, as it seemed, and floating 
 off apart. Their dresses flashed like gems in the sun- 
 shine. Their hair shone. Their harps resounded to the 
 touch of their milk-white hands, and their clear rich 
 voices rang out always triumphantly : — " To us ! to us it is 
 given to do great deeds ! " And so singing they passed on 
 over the desert into the west, their voices falling fainter 
 and fainter, their forms growing more shadowy and. indis- 
 tinct, till the ono was invisible and the other had died 
 away. 
 
 But where was Janey? My conscience smote- me for 
 having left her alone, for I knew that she could not go 
 unguided into the wonderful land of light which music 
 made me free of ; and as I struck the last soft quivering 
 chord arpeggio^ I turned to look at her. 
 
 She was sitting up. 
 
 And from that day too she continued to sit up — in 
 bed at first, but by degrees she became strong enough to be 
 moved into a chair, and dressed. Then she got so far as to 
 be able to get out of bed, dress herself, and hobble about 
 the room ; and I have no doubt that, but for her moth- 
 er's fatal apathy in letting her legs contract, she would 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 177 
 
 eventually have quite recovered. There was no stretch- 
 ing those stiff, shortened tendons back to their normal 
 length, however, and poor Janey remained a cripple ; but 
 happily a very active one. 
 
 We got her a bath chair next, and her brothers by 
 turns wheeled her out every day. The first visit she paid 
 was to me. I had often described our house to her, and 
 the rooms and furniture, and when she arrived she was 
 wheeled into all the ones on the ground floor, and was 
 loud in the expression of her amazement because she said 
 she hadn't imagined it at all like that. 
 
 But all this time father was getting more troublesome, 
 and was " that cunning it did seem sometimes as if 'e 
 would 'ave to be put away." I had had a little window- 
 garden made outside Janey's window and filled with flow- 
 ers, of which she took the greatest care ; but one evening, 
 when she went as usual to trim and water them, she found 
 they had all been pulled up by the roots, and strewn on 
 the ground outside. I thought the rough hands from the 
 ironworks had done it; they used to destroy our grounds 
 when they could effect an entry ; but Janey said " no," 
 with a wise shake of her head. " Hawks dinna peck out 
 hawks' een. The men '11 not touch our flowers now 
 Sammy's at the works. It's father ; I know it's father. 
 'E throwed a plate at baby yesterday, 'e's that jealous or 
 summat 0' the child ; an' 'e doesn't know what mischief 
 to be up to next. But then, it's father, you know, an' if 
 it wasn't that it 'ud be summat else." 
 
 I had risen to take my leave, and she looked up at me 
 with her peculiar little smile that scarcely disturbed a 
 feature, and held my hand a moment affectionately. A 
 
17S JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 tinge of colour had come to her delicate cheeks since she 
 was able to go out into the fresh air, and her large grey 
 eyes were brighter, It was a most interesting face, mel- 
 ancholy in repose, but beaming with good feeling and 
 clear intelligence, 
 
 *' Good-bye, Janey," I said, " until next Monday, un- 
 less you can come to see me." 
 
 " Good-bye, m'am," she answered, " an' thank you 
 kindly. If the boys are either of 'em back i' time to take 
 me I'd like to go ; but I'm afraid this week " — she heaved 
 a little sigh, then added in her usual cheerful way — " But 
 of course if it is to be it will be." 
 
 The following Monday I laid up a life-long regret for 
 myself by going to see Janey much later than I had ever 
 done before. A game of tennis was the important matter 
 that detained me ! 
 
 The cottage door stood ajar, as it always did on my 
 visiting day, so that I might walk in without disturbing 
 the siesta of mother upstairs by knocking. The first 
 thing I saw on entering Janey's room was father sitting 
 comfortably by the window in his big armchair. He 
 greeted me with a cunning grin. Janey was prostrate on 
 the floor, and the baby girl was sitting beside her patting 
 her cheek. I thought it was a game at first, but Janey 
 turned a ghastly face to me when she heard my step, and 
 moaned. There was a horrid wound on the side of her 
 head, and there was a heavy wooden stool lying near her 
 with blood upon it. I called through the open window to 
 a man who was passing. He helped me to lift Janey on to 
 her bed, and then hurried off for a doctor, father looking 
 on mean while with a self-satisfied smirk, and every now 
 
JANEY, A HUMBLE ADMINISTRATOR. 179 
 
 and then chuckling to himself as if hugely delighted with 
 something. Janey held my hand convulsively. She was 
 sensible, and looked up at me with a piteous expression 
 in her beautiful eyes. " I don't know as 'e 'ad n't better 'a' 
 bin put away," she whispered, " for where mother an' the 
 childer will be if ennything 'appens to me, I can't imag- 
 ine." She stopped, closed her eyes for a little, then 
 looked up again. " It seemed to come over 'im all of a 
 minute," she said — " just afore you came. I was sittin' 
 on the floor playin' wi' baby, an' 'e jest took up the stool, 
 an' throwed it at me, grinnin' all the time. Oh ! you bad 
 man ! see what you've done ! Eh ! but it 'urts, me 'ead 
 does. I misdoubt me I'll never think for 'em all no 
 more." Two great tears ran down her cheeks as she 
 spoke. The blow would not have killed a robuster person, 
 but Janey had no recuperative power in her fragile body, 
 and never rallied from the shock to her system. Dear, 
 good, gentle loving creature ! She managed " to think 
 for 'em all "a few days longer, arranging, directing, advis- 
 ing to the last. She had been silent some hours before the 
 end, and we who were sitting beside her thought we 
 should never hear her low sweet voice again making the 
 harsh words musical by smoothing out the rugged aspirates 
 — when suddenly she began to murmur something about 
 Georgie, her youngest brother, a very delicate child : — 
 " Watch when 'e's white," she said, " an' never you mind no 
 schoolmasters nor magistrates. Jest you keep 'im at'ome. 
 'E'll niver do no 'ard work, but if you take care of 
 'im 'e'll be good for a light business — stationery and 
 
 books " 
 
 She broke off, and looked at the piano. I had de- 
 
 
180 JANEY, A nUMBLK ADiMlNlSTRATOR. 
 
 scribed that vision of the singiug women to her, and told 
 her how to interpret it, and we had summoned them since 
 more than once for our encouragement, so that I knew 
 what she meant when she said in a stronger voice, with a 
 last little smile : " Would you play it again — very soft like 
 — while I watch your fingers — an' may be they'll come 
 and 'elp me — 'elp me up — this last little bit o' the way." 
 
 I sat down to summon the singing women, and pres- 
 ently we heard their song — " To us ! to us it is given to 
 do great deeds ! " — and down the narrow street of the 
 Oriental city they swept in their gem-tinted garments, 
 and floated out into the desert, and on towards the sunset. 
 But before they faded quite from sight and hearing, some 
 one touched me lightly on the shoulder. The look of 
 pain had passed from Janey's face, a tender smile lingered 
 about her lips, and it was plain that " they" had lovingly 
 helped her gentle spirit up — that last little bit of the way. 
 
BOOMELLEN. 
 
 " Son of a sad dog in his day, sir." 
 
 Su]srsHiNE and soft airs, scent of flowers and twitter of 
 birds, all summer signs recall Boomellen. Where bright 
 seas were, or burnished trout streams, or murmurous water- 
 falls sparkled in the heat, there was he likely to be seen 
 loitering. Where he hid himself in murky weather it 
 it would be hard to say, but certain it is that none of us 
 can recollect an occasion of the kind upon which he ever 
 appeared among us. 
 
 But although associated in one's mind with warmth, 
 brightness, and the music of moving water, he was not 
 an ethereal being in point of appearance, such as would 
 suggest, according to all ideal notions on the subject, 
 a kinship with the kindly elements, a member of the 
 family of Undine; but a big, broad-shouldered, substan- 
 tial fellow, six feet high, and of a remarkably healthy as- 
 pect ; with a delicate skin that never flushed but was 
 always pinky like that of a sleeping girl, a splendid head, 
 thick, glossy, light brown curling hair, worn rather long 
 and never parted, small ears, and features delicate and 
 handsome, but of a strange immobility. The impression 
 left by his face was always as if its impassive calm had 
 never been ruffled by any passion of earth. Xo other 
 
1S2 BOOxM ELLEN. 
 
 human countenance has ever produced the same effect 
 upon me, but while standing before the great bronze 
 Buddha, Dai-butsu, as he sits, the image of contemplative 
 calm, the passionless perfection of repose, among the trees 
 of his grove of Karmakura, in Japan, the peculiar sensa- 
 tion recurred, and instantly I thought of Boomellen. But 
 Dai-butsu felt further away than Boomellen did — he was 
 not of the earth, while on the contrary there seemed to be 
 something of the great spirit which pervades all inanimate 
 nature in Boomellen, uniting him closer to that portion of 
 it which neither wakes nor sleeps, nor thinks nor feels 
 nor knows, but just lives and dies, than the human 
 race. When he spoke his lips and eyes moved of neces- 
 sity, but this did not disturb the character of that imper- 
 vious mask, his face, any more than the waving of branches 
 and rustle of leaves produces an impression as of sentient 
 being in a tree. What was behind that mask? The 
 question was inevitable, for his countenance was one 
 which excited interest and expectation, and you waited 
 anxiously when you met him first to hear him speak. 
 With such a head, it seemed impossible that he should 
 not be something distinguished, or on the way, well 
 dowered with capacity, to become so. But expectation 
 and interest invariably went dissatisfied away, either 
 thwarted by silence or puzzled by insignificant words. 
 Still he always looked as if he had so much in him that no 
 one was ever quite convinced to the contrary, perhaps 
 because his habit was to meet any attempt to draw him 
 out with an impressive stare, as if, although his eyes were 
 fixed upon you, his thoughts were concentrated on some- 
 thing worthier of his attention, which was disconcerting. 
 
BOOMELLEN. 183 
 
 His father's estates lay in the wild west country, run- 
 ning down to the rocky rugged coast, and back among 
 the purple mountains ; and it was natural to suppose that, 
 having been born and bred upon the spot, he would have 
 in himself an innate appreciation of the grandeur of the 
 scenery, and a cultivated eye for the shades and colours 
 of changeful cloud-forms, and the vast varieties of grand 
 Atlantic seas. 
 
 The first time we saw him, I remember, we were sit- 
 ting with windows wide open, looking out upon a bay 
 into which at the moment mighty waves were rolling 
 under a summer sun up to the beetling grey-black cliffs 
 against which they burst with a roar like muffled thunder, 
 casting great showers of spray upward into the air, high 
 enough at times to sprinkle the short grass and sea-pinks 
 which grew on the brink. Every now and then a broad- 
 winged sea-bird would hover above the boiling cauldron, 
 look down into the turmoil intently for a little, and then 
 sail on with scarcely any perceptible effort, having added a 
 curious touch of life and intelligence to the scene, a sen- 
 sation in our minds, as it were, containing the involuntary 
 comparison of the superiority of one little atom of life to 
 all that rude irresponsible force. 
 
 Boomellen looked out with the rest of us, his big 
 brown eyes distended, his whole face full of a dreamy 
 intensity. 
 
 " This is a wonderful country of yours ! " one of us ex- 
 claimed enthusiastically. " Is it possible to live licre, and 
 not be a painter, or a poet, or inspired in some one way 
 to reproduce and perpetuate such beautiful wonders of 
 sublimity and power? You must love the place." 
 
184 B0031ELLEN. 
 
 Boomellen turned his wistful eyes from the scene, and 
 gazed at the speaker. 
 
 " Yes," he said, slowly, after some seconds, " we like 
 the place." 
 
 " Only like it ! Why I never saw anything so glorious 
 as this view ! Don't you think so yourself, although you 
 are accustomed to it ? " 
 
 " Yes," Boomellen repeated in measured accents, mo- 
 notonously, and without the slightest show of animation ; 
 "yes, it's a nice view." Then, seeming to see that some- 
 thing else was expected of him, he added : " There won't 
 be any porpoises to-day, but sometimes they come when 
 the tide is rising." 
 
 Soon after making this last remark he rose abruptly, 
 shook hands with us all, and withdrew, without having 
 littered another word. But when he had gone, and we 
 tried to sum him up, some one said something about his 
 " cheerful silence," and remarked that it was companion- 
 able as that of the dumb dog who looks up lovingly into' 
 your eyes. 
 
 Boomellen was of ancient and aristocratic lineage. 
 His descent could be traced back clearly, both on his 
 father's and mother's side, further than anybody cared to 
 follow it. 
 
 " Eh ! that's so, yer honour," an old woman on the es- 
 tate, who had been descanting about the family to my father 
 one day, informed him : " They was kings in these parts, 
 shure enough, wonst, though now his own father's nuthin' 
 but a common Justice of the Peace, 'deed an' he isn't. 
 But phat cou' yer honour expect? It's the oulder the 
 seed the warse the crop, it is, och ! yes." 
 
BOOMELLEN. 185 
 
 Boomellen had arrived at the weary end of his ances- 
 try, being the last male rejiresentative and heir of two 
 nsed-np races. His father had been " wild " in his youth, 
 but his degrading habits were cut short by something 
 which suspiciously resembled epilepsy. He then married, 
 at the instigation of his spiritual director — the girl he 
 chose being herself the daughter of a drunken father and 
 an arrogant, nervous, irritable, self-indulgent mother. 
 The consequences of this combination in Boomellen's 
 mother were markedly neurotic, her symptoms appearing 
 in the form of an exaggerated piety. She would at any 
 time (an she could) have upset the order of the universe 
 had she found that it was going to check her indulgence 
 in the religious exercises which were her favourite pas- 
 time. She had been brought up in a convent, and indif- 
 ferently educated, her reasoning faculty not having been 
 at all developed, while the emotional tendency which 
 naturally threatened the balance of her intellect had been 
 incessantly worked upon. In the convent she was de- 
 scribed as of exalted piety, in the consulting-room her 
 diathesis would have been pronounced hysterical. Train- 
 ing and habit had also confirmed in her a predisposition 
 to unquestioning obedience to the priest. The latter had 
 taught her that it is good to save souls, that the soul of a 
 reprobate may be saved by marrying him, therefore it is 
 good to marry a reprobate, and she had accepted Boom- 
 ellen's father upon this conviction, remaining as blind as 
 her short-sighted director himself to the conclusion that 
 by doing so she was lending herself to the manufacture 
 of more reprobates, descendants of the saved one. A man 
 may change his habits when he marries, but his con- 
 
186 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 stitution remains the same, and it is the constitution, 
 laden with his predominant propensities, which he most 
 inevitably transmits. There were four children of this 
 marriage — Boomellen, and three daughters, the eldest of 
 whom entered a convent by way of the Divorce Court, the 
 second did not get so far as the convent, and the third 
 committed suicide. These troubles Boomellen's mother 
 attributed to her ^laker, it had been His will so to afflict 
 her ; but He had also been merciful in giving her Boom- 
 ellen, her precious youngest child, who had never cost her 
 an hour's anxiety in his life, and was all sweetness and 
 goodness — too good, in her estimation, for his position ; 
 he ought to have entered the priesthood. 
 
 And no doubt Boomellen would have done so had that 
 course been suggested to him ; it not being at all his way 
 to offer active opposition to those in authority over him. 
 
 His education had been effected in England, and there 
 he had learnt to write a beautiful hand, clear, distinct, 
 firm, and invariable. He was also apt at orthography, 
 and good at mathematics. But what cultivation his mind 
 had otherwise received only his tutors knew, for he never 
 betrayed the slightest knowledge of any subject whatever 
 to any one, so far as we could ascertain. His mother, al- 
 luding to his dreamy ways, and the pure simplicity of his 
 nature, called him playfully — 
 
 " A child of the age of a man, 
 Whom the fairies have always in tow." 
 
 She had all kinds of convictions on the subject of his 
 mental attributes, and told us illustrative anecdotes which 
 at first impressed us ; but we learnt eventually to doubt 
 
BOOMELLEN. 187 
 
 her knowledge of his character, for she had evidently 
 not observed him much since his extreme youth, the 
 tastes and habits she still ascribed to him being those of 
 his childhood. As he grew up, her attention had be- 
 come more and more absorbed by her own pursuits, and 
 these had gradually weaned her away from him, he going 
 his own way, while she was rioting in pious exercises 
 which left her unaware of the flight of time, and of cer- 
 tain practices which might have caused her to reflect be- 
 fore she again uttered her oft-repeated conviction that 
 Boomellen was too good for anything but the priest- 
 hood. 
 
 We were new to the neighbourhood, but he made him- 
 self at home with us at once, and tVould ride over often to 
 see us. lie was not fond of active exercise as a rule, but 
 riding did not seem to be an accomplishment of his so 
 much as a part of his nature, costing him as little effort 
 as it costs a fish to swim or a bird to fly. But he was truly 
 an incorrigible loiterer, and would often stay all night with 
 us ; not because there was anything special to stay for, 
 but only because, being expected to return to dinner, he 
 felt himself detained by an imperative disinclination to be 
 in time. lie was always late for every meal, and always 
 the last to come down in the morning, but such breaches 
 of etiquette in no way affected his own equanimity, and if 
 a remark were made on the subject it always seemed to 
 surprise him, as though he could not comprehend why 
 habits that suited himself so perfectly should not be 
 equally agreeable to everybody else. 
 
 His father was very impatient with him. 
 
 " Gad, gad, gad, sir !" he would exclaim in his quick, 
 13 
 
188 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 nervous, irritable way — " wliat are you dawdling about 
 now for ? What the devil you are always thinking about 
 T can't imagine." 
 
 To which Boomellen made an ox-like answer, dumbly, 
 with big brown eyes. 
 
 But we discovered he did pay some deference to his 
 father's wishes — in a way that was quite his own. He 
 began to appear with a book under his arm. Riding, 
 driving, walking, eating or sleeping, the book was always 
 beside him, but no one had ever seen him open it. I 
 asked him one day what that book was. He took it 
 slowly from under his arm, and held it out for me to read 
 the title. 
 
 " Why, I don't believe you know what it is yourself," 
 I exclaimed. 
 
 " No, I don't," was his candid and unexpected answer, 
 as he returned it to its place under his arm without hav- 
 ing had the curiosity to see what it was. 
 
 " Then, what in the world are you doing with it ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Well, you see," he answered dreamily, " my father 
 has been at me continually about books. He was always 
 saying, ' I should like to see you with a book, my boy.' 
 So at last I went to the library and took this one out be- 
 cause it was a comfortable size, and I carry it about so 
 that he may see me with a book as he wishes, and be 
 pleased. He reads books himself." 
 
 These last words might have been uttered by an auto- 
 maton, so curiously even; mechanical, and void of all em- 
 phasis were they ; yet the impression they made was not 
 impartial, but rather as if Boomellen were criticising his 
 
BOOMELLEN. 189 
 
 father for doing something which he himself found to be 
 not worth while. 
 
 He lingered a little in his loitering way after he had 
 spoken, and then he strolled from the room, and when 
 next I saw him he was lounging about the lawn alone, 
 flipping leaves from the trees with his riding- whip. 
 Eventually he settled himself in a sunny spot, lying full 
 length on the grass, watching the bees and butterflies, the 
 birds skimming about, and the changeful clouds above 
 him. As he looked up into the sky, I was painfully 
 struck with the expression of his face — an expression of 
 settled melancholy. I have often seen the same look 
 since on other faces, and always found that those who 
 wore it were the last survivors of a worn-out race. It is 
 as if they foresaw their inevitable doom, and mourned for 
 the extinction of their family. Some people see the same 
 marked melancholy in the autumn season, and recognise 
 it as a symptom of decadence. 
 
 Boomellen spent the rest of that afternoon lying alone 
 contentedly upon the grass, with the book beneath his 
 head as if he were imbibing information through the 
 pores, on Joey Ladle's principle. My father came into 
 my room once, and, looking out at him, shook his head. 
 " Fatal apathy ! " he ejaculated, " and what a pity it 
 seems ! " 
 
 And I knew from the way he spoke that he thought it 
 a hopeless case. BfimmeJn, an incorrigible loiterer, was 
 what my father constantly called him, and the word, by 
 mispronunciation of his children, was converted into 
 Boomellen, which in time became our only name for him. 
 
 There was a long low room situated in an otherwise 
 
100 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 disused wing of onr house, which had been fitted up for 
 the boys as a work-room. It was far enough from the 
 inhabited part of the house to prevent any one being dis- 
 turbed by the noise they made, and they were con- 
 sequently at liberty to amuse themselves as they pleased 
 unrestrainedly. Double doors shut them off from the 
 rest of the house, and their privacy was seldom invaded 
 by the authorities. Faint sounds of hammer and saw and 
 plane, of boxing-gloves, and fencing foils, with shouts of 
 laughter and loud disputes would come from thence 
 through the double doors or open windows on occasion, 
 betokening occupations or amusements never suspected of 
 being otherwise than manly ; so that there was no super- 
 vision, and the boys developed trustworthiness in propor- 
 tion to the confidence which was placed in them. 
 
 Boomellen found his way at once to this room, and 
 would put the gloves on himself sometimes, and make a 
 languid show of boxing if urged thereto, or would handle 
 the foils for a little, but without interest. He liked to 
 look on best, and often sat by the hour together, silently 
 watching the other boys ; presenting a pathetic contrast 
 in his quietude to the restless and noisy display of super- 
 abundant vitality which kept them going. Yet, at the 
 first glance he, with his magnificent physique, his finely 
 formed hands and feet, and delicate, regular, high-bred 
 features, looked like a superior being who was sorry and 
 sore to find himself matched with the irregular profiles 
 and the undignified exuberance of his companions. No 
 one would have supposed for a moment that his impres- 
 sively handsome husk contained not a tithe of the im- 
 mortal soul which animated their obviously inferior clay. 
 
BOOM ELLEN. 191 
 
 Oue evening my father, hearing that Boomellen was 
 in the work-room, went there to look for him in order to 
 get him to take a note back with him. On entering the 
 room he discovered Boomellen, apparently alone, sitting 
 at the table with his arms folded in front of him, and his 
 face resting upon them, as if he were asleep. Beside him 
 were two huge jugs and some empty glasses. 
 
 " Where are the boys?" my father exclaimed. 
 
 Boomellen slowly raised his head, and greeted him 
 with the besotted stare of a drunken man. 
 
 "Boomellen! how is this?" my father demanded 
 sternly. 
 
 " You mush exsheush me, sir," Boomellen answered 
 with thick utterance and exaggerated formality, " but the 
 truth isli by achsdent I've got myshelf vulgarly drunk on 
 beer." 
 
 That was not the worst of it, however, for presently, 
 under the table, my father discovered one of his sons still 
 more "vulgarly drunk " than Boomellen himself. 
 
 It seems that the other boys had gone out, leaving 
 these two alone together, Boomellen idly sitting on the 
 sill of an open window, in apparently rapt contemplation 
 as was his wont, his companion quietly reading a book of 
 adventures in which, as ill-luck would have it, he had just 
 come upon a graphic account of an heroic drinking-bout. 
 He was absorbed in this when Boomellen muttered some- 
 thing about drink, and left the room. On inquiry it was 
 found that he had gone to one of the servants and asked 
 him for the jugs of beer and glasses, and the man, sup- 
 posing that they were required for the whole party, gave 
 him as much as he wanted. 
 
192 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 " Let us drink," lie said when lie returned with the 
 beer, and the suggestion, immediately after the vivid de- 
 scription he had been reading of this refined and manly 
 sport, was too great a temptation for the other boy. He 
 tried one glass, and then another, and so on until he 
 collapsed. In his case, however, there w^as no great harm 
 done, but rather the contrary perhaps, for the affair was 
 a lesson to him, and he was so thoroughly ashamed of him- 
 self that he made a vow never to make a beast of himself 
 in that particular way again, and kept it. 
 
 But with poor Boomellen it was far otherwise. He 
 inherited a craving for drink, and from that time he had 
 periodical attacks of it to which he yielded without a 
 struggle. No effort had been made to teach him to com- 
 bat any propensity of the kind, and the idea of resistance 
 never occurred to him apparently. There were those 
 who tried to exercise a kindly preventative influence with 
 him in the matter when it was too late, that is to say, 
 after the disease had declared itself, and he would listen 
 politely to all they had to urge, but at the same time he 
 conveyed the impression that he thought they were giv- 
 ing themselves most unnecessary trouble about a trivial 
 matter, for it was evidently as natural for Boomellen to 
 drink when the craving was on him as it was to eat when 
 he was hungry. It was a sad. and significant sight to see 
 him drink. Alone or in company he would settle down 
 to it as if he were doing indifferently an accustomed task 
 that must be done. His favourite place for the purpose 
 was at an open window, and there he would sit in an 
 easy chair, with a little table at his elbow to hold his 
 bottle or jug and glass ; and gradually, as he drank, his 
 
BOOMELLEN. 193 
 
 eyes would oi^en wider and wider on the outward prospect 
 to begin with, as if he saw by degrees further and further 
 beyond the range of mortal vision into the unimaginable, 
 and was amazed. But imperceptibly as he proceeded 
 the brightness was overcast, the lids became swollen and 
 heavy, his muscles relaxed, his back bowed, his lips lost 
 their firm set, and the expression of his mouth grew weak 
 and vacillating. Then he stretched his long legs straight 
 out before him, and put his hands in his trouser pockets, 
 w^hile his head sank forv/ard on his chest; and so he 
 remained, with eyes staring wide open, yet seeming not 
 to see at all, and motionless save for the regular mechan- 
 ical effort to lift the fatal glass to his lips, which continued 
 some time after all other power to move voluntarily had 
 ceased. But during no stage of the process did he depart 
 from his habitual manner ; he neither laughed, shouted, 
 sang, wept, became quarrelsome, affectionate, nor even ex- 
 cessively maudlin, but just maintained his habitual cheer- 
 ful silence, and gazed into vacancy until he could see no 
 more. If anything, he rather preferred to be alone at these 
 times, but he never made a point of secluding himself. 
 
 When his father heard of these lapses he was extreme- 
 ly angry, because, he said, Boomellen did not conduct the 
 affair like a gentleman : " Gad, gad, gad, sir ! " he assured 
 him, "a gentleman gives an entertainment — asks his 
 friends on these occasions, and enjoys himself in good so- 
 ciety. He doesn't settle down alone like a hog to stupefy 
 himself. No gentleman drinks for the sake of drinking, 
 but to sharpen his wits and increase his conversational 
 powers. Let me hear that you have done it decently the 
 next time." 
 
194 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 Boomellen did not develop this unliappy propensity 
 until he was about nineteen, and he had not up to that 
 time evinced any disreputable tendency : but immediately 
 after that first sudden attack at our house, he began to 
 shock his father's prejudices in another way. As I have 
 said, he was an incorrigible loiterer, but heretofore his 
 loiterings had been solitary. Kow, however, he began to 
 appear — in the highways as a rule — accompanied by one 
 of the peasant's daughters — one at a time that is, but not 
 always the same one. The peasantry themselves, good 
 judges in these matters, said : " Och ! sir, let his honour 
 alone. Shure the girls is all right, and they'll kape him 
 shtraight." And my father, knowing that all-rightness 
 is the rule among Irish peasant girls, took the same view 
 of the matter. Boomellen merely sought in their society 
 a kind of comradeship. The sex of his companions in- 
 fluenced his choice only insensibly, if at all ; it was their 
 lack of ideas and happy silence that suited him. The 
 county, however, was naturally scandalised, and deter- 
 mined not to tolerate such conduct, and accordingly 
 Boomellen was " cut " for the time being by everybody 
 who met him anvwhere in the neis^hbourhood in such 
 strange company. But this did not disturb him at all. 
 He was absolutely unaffected by public oj^inion, and also 
 by the wrath of his father, who grossly misjudged him in 
 this, his own moral nature being so constituted that he 
 could not conceive even the possibility of such a lapse 
 from the established order of iniquity as the innocent 
 roamings of Boomellen with his friends implied. 
 
 " Gad, gad, gad, sir ! " he said to my father, " the pub- 
 licity, you know ! the publicity ! There's no necessity to 
 
BOOiMELLEN. ^[95 
 
 make a parade of that kind of thing. A gentleman never 
 does, you know. I strongly ohject to" his making a parade 
 of it. It's deuced bad form." 
 
 He reproved Boomellen himself to this effect, but the 
 latter merely gazed into his face with bovine stolidity, as 
 if he sympathised with his mood much better than he un- 
 derstood his remarks, and went his way along the public 
 roads with the peasant girls as before. 
 
 The drinking scandals had been carefully concealed 
 from his mother, but some busybody made her acquainted 
 with this new difficulty, and in consequence of her dis- 
 tress it was decided to send Boomellen abroad with a 
 tutor, with a view, it was understood, to having him 
 taught to sow his wild oats conventionally. Boomellen 
 raised no objection. So long as he Avas not required to de- 
 cide for himself, he was sure to acquiesce and be satisfied. 
 
 He was close upon his majority by this time, and his 
 travels were delayed until after his birthday that he might 
 receive the congratulations of his friends, and the honours 
 due to him as heir to a great estate, on his coming of age. 
 The day itself was the 29th of October, which was late in 
 the year for open-air festivities in that climate, and it 
 was very much feared that the preparations would be 
 spoilt by the weather, especially after the 25th, when a 
 dreadful storm set in, and continued to rage till far into 
 the night of the 28tli. The morning itself broke brightly, 
 however, the wind had abated, but a terrific sea still broke 
 in the bay. 
 
 Of his own accord, and without a word to any one, 
 Boomellen rose early, went fasting to confession, and re- 
 ceived the sacrament of his church. 
 
19G BOOMELLEN. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the tenants were to make him a 
 presentation and read an address, to which he would be 
 oblio-ed to reply. How he would comport himself on so 
 momentous an occasion, and, above all, what he would 
 find to say — if anything — was matter of serious conjecture 
 and anxiety to his friends, several of whom were able and 
 willing to coach him well had he consulted them, but he 
 never mentioned the subject at all to any one, nor would 
 he allow any one else to approach it. His father had 
 attempted to do so in his nervous, fidgety way, but Boom- 
 ellen simply walked off without ceremony the moment he 
 began. 
 
 " It will come to him, dear, it will come to him. I 
 have full faith," his mother piously ejaculated. But no- 
 body else was confident. 
 
 The ceremony took place out on the lawn, on the west 
 side of the family mansion. Boomellen stood at the top 
 of a broad flight of shallow stone steps which led down 
 from the terrace in front of the house to the grass, upon 
 which the tenants were crowded in rows looking up to him. 
 Just behind him his father and mother stood, and behind 
 them again was a goodly array of the neighbouring gentry 
 with their ladies in bright and becoming costumes. It 
 was a gay and beautiful scene as well as a touching and 
 impressive one. There w^as a suspicion of sharpness in 
 the air, and the wind, coming in great gusts intermit- 
 tently, showered the autumn leaves down upon the spec- 
 tators from the old trees that sheltered the lawn, and 
 whirled them about sportively, while the sun shone, and 
 the odours peculiar to the season smote the sense of smell 
 agreeably. The sounds were soothing, too. They seemed 
 
Of TMC 
 
 UNIYER8 
 
 ^^ -' BOOMELLEN. 197 
 
 to lie in layers upon the consciousness — first the sharp 
 call of a bird, insistent, incessant; then the susurrus of 
 the breeze through the branches; and further off, yet 
 immeasurably more impressive, the great sea-voice, 
 swelling, lapsing, thunderous, murmurous, all-pervading, 
 distinct from the rest yet somehow including them all. 
 
 Boomellen never looked better than at that moment. 
 His great personal beauty showed to perfection as he stood 
 there negligently with his hat in his hand, and the wind 
 tossing his thick, glossy brown hair about picturesquely. 
 It cannot be said that the strange immobility of his 
 countenance was affected by any emotion he may have felt, 
 but there was a bright, though rapt expression in his dark 
 eyes as he gazed down on the nervous old man who, stand- 
 ing a step or two below him, made him the presentation 
 in the name of the other tenants, and then proceeded to 
 read the address. The tenants wished to express their 
 affection for Boomellen. They reminded him that he had 
 been born and bred upon the estate, and grown up 
 amongst them to the delight of their eyes and the joy of 
 their hearts. " It's a proud woman your mother must be 
 the day, yer honour " — so ran in unaffoeted sincerity the 
 simple language of the address — " for tliere's neither man 
 nor woman, boy nor girl, in the country but has a good 
 word for ye, for ye niver wronged a sowl in all yer life, 
 nor gave wan any other than was their due." 
 
 There was a murmur of assent to this among the 
 tenants. Boomellen's mother pressed her handkerchief 
 to her eyes convulsively, and some fancied that the rapt 
 look on his own face became intensified. 
 
 The old farmer who had read the address rolled it up 
 
^98 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 as he concluded, handed it to Boomellen with a stiff 
 obeisance, awkwardly stumbled down the steps, and took 
 his place again with the other tenants. Then there was a 
 pause, and many hearts began to beat to suffocation. 
 Would he ever be able to utter a word ? 
 
 Boomellen gazed before him with parted lips for some 
 seconds before he attempted to speak, and all agreed 
 afterwards that during the pause the look on his face was 
 as of one who listens with pleased, though strained atten- 
 tion. The crisp crackle of autumn leaves, the rush and 
 swish of a sudden gust through the branches of the trees, 
 and the sullen roar of monstrous waves lashing themselves 
 furiously in ineffectual might against the rocky barrier of 
 the stupendous cliffs alone filled our ears in the interval, 
 but it was always believed by the people that, over and 
 above this, Boomellen had heard what was not for us, and 
 seen that which was invisible to all but him. 
 
 He was not nervous. 
 
 " My friends — ladies and gentlemen," he began at last, 
 gathering the words slowly and with difficulty, but com- 
 posedly, " I am glad to see you here to-day. I thank you 
 for your kind congratulations. My heart is touched." 
 Holding his hat and the rolled-up address in front of him 
 in his left hand, he folded the right upon it, and, looking 
 at the ground, paused a minute as though to collect his 
 thoughts, while those about him, strongly impressed, 
 broke out into a low murmur of encouragement. He 
 looked up. "You tell me that I am called to a high 
 position," he recommenced in the same slow, difficult way 
 — " to honours, which I should deserve — to riches, which 
 I should dispose of to the glory of God and for the good 
 
BOOMELLEN. 199 
 
 of mankind. And that is true — I am called. It is not 
 my choice to be here." Again he paused, but this time 
 there was absolute silence. " I have — there is something 
 — comes into my mind — about " — he raised his right hand 
 and brushed the hair, which a gust of wind had blown 
 upon his forehead, back out of his eyes, then, with bent 
 brows, peered out into the distance over the heads of the 
 people, as though trying to make out something he could 
 not clearly distinguish — " about," he repeated, exactly as if 
 he were deciphering a difficult handwriting — " about being 
 taken from the wrath to come." A curious expression of 
 intentness settled upon the upturned faces. " If I am not 
 worthy," Boomellen pursued more fluently, " not worthy 
 of my position — if I am not equal to the duties which, as 
 you say, in course of time must devolve upon me ; then I 
 pray that I may be taken from the ivratli to come. I 
 pray that I may be removed before I lose your hearts — or 
 — forfeit your good opinion." 
 
 Anything more unexpected Boomellen could not have 
 uttered, and a deep, inarticulate murmur of emotion arose 
 from the crowd, an unintelligible murmur, for the people 
 were at a loss to know how such sentiments should be 
 acknowledged. A great uneasiness had gradually taken 
 possession of us all. Everybody felt that there was some- 
 thing wrong, but none of us could have defined the feeling. 
 
 We held our breath while waiting for him to speak 
 again. 
 
 He was looking beyond us now in the same strange 
 way he had done at first; then all at once, but quietly, he 
 put on his hat and, raising his arm, pointed over the heads 
 of the tenants, towards the sea. 
 
200 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 •" There is a ship in distress," he said. 
 
 Those on the lawn glanced nervously over their shoul- 
 ders and everybody listened, while in the painful silence 
 that ensued the tension became so pronounced that, on 
 the sudden booming of a great gun, many of the ladies 
 shrieked. 
 
 In a moment all order was over. The people on the 
 lawn broke their ranks, and, turning from the house, 
 made for the cliffs in haste, while those on the terrace 
 streamed down the steps, mingled with the tenants, and 
 all together hurried in confusion in the same direction. 
 It was not far, but once out of the shelter of the grounds 
 we were met and hindered by the full force that remained 
 to the gale, which was blowing in off the sea. Petticoats 
 became unmanageable, fluttering ribbons bound their 
 wearers to each other in wild entanglement, hats were 
 whirled away, but nobody heeded any inconvenience of 
 that kind — especially when we came within sight of the 
 sea, and stood in our gay holiday-attire, conscious of the 
 cruelly incongruous contrast we presented to the white- 
 faced, storm-battered wretches on the wreck, which was 
 being driven to destruction before our eyes — with small 
 hope of rescue — on the rocks below. There was no life- 
 boat on the coast at that time, and no other boat that 
 would be likely to live in such a sea. Up at the coast- 
 guard station, from whence the gun had been fired, rock- 
 ets with life-saving apparatus were being got ready, but all 
 too slowly, as it seemed to the horror-stricken spectators. 
 
 " Will no one do anything ?" Boomellen's mother ex- 
 claimed indignantly, wringing her hands. " Are none of 
 you men enough to do anything ? " 
 
BOOMELLEN. 201 
 
 Boomellen was standing beside her, and she seized his 
 arm, as if to shake him out of his apathy, for he appeared 
 to be quite unmoved, although we we're so close that we 
 could have recognised the people on the ship had we 
 known any of them, and their sufferings were terrible to 
 see — and all the more terrible because we were so near, 
 and yet so powerless to render them any assistance. 
 
 The wreck was a large brig. One mast was gone, the 
 other was hanging over the side, and there was a dead 
 man entangled in the rigging. On deck a poor woman 
 was clinging to a bit of cordage with one arm, while she 
 held a baby on the other. Her dress was open at the 
 neck, and being saturated, clung close to her gaunt figure, 
 making her look as if she had nothing else on. Her short 
 thin dark hair was also plastered in ragged patches about 
 her forehead and neck by the water. She seemed to be 
 shivering, her face was haggard and colourless, and she 
 stared up at us with wild eyes, but her mouth was firmly 
 set. The men beside her uttered heartrending cries for 
 help, but she was mute, and the child hung limply on her 
 arm as if it were dead. 
 
 From among the mountainous cumuli which fled 
 across the sky before the wind, pitilessly bright sunbursts 
 flashed full upon the wreck, giant waves met with a shock 
 in her wake, rose high in the air, and fell with a thud 
 upon her, and great green foam-flecked masses of treach- 
 erous water swept her decks now and then from stem to 
 stern, threatening to submerge her. About her, as if in 
 ghastly anticipation, a throng of broad-winged sea-birds 
 hovered — up and down, in and out, back and forth, up 
 and down, da capo, all dancing a regular, rhythmical. 
 
202 BOOMELLEN. 
 
 mocking, aerial measure, with sharp- shrill cries, to the 
 tune of the winds and waves. 
 
 When the shrieks of the people on the wreck arose, 
 those on the clilf responded to them, and men and women 
 liere and there threw themselves down upon their knees, 
 and lifted their hands to heaven. 
 
 In the midst of this awful scene, a tiny boat suddenly 
 shot out from under the cliif, a toy-tub of a dinghy not 
 safe for an instant in such a sea. It was being rowed in 
 a diagonal direction towards the WTeck, and the people 
 on the cliff with a groan recognised Boomellen. Why it 
 should have occurred to him alone to do such a desperate 
 thing, those who had caught the petulant reproach im- 
 plied in his mother's manner never doubted ; but that it 
 was desperate he did not seem to realise, for his face was 
 set serenely — rapt as it had been when he had stood in 
 safety, seeming to listen, on the steps of his father's 
 house half an hour before. His hat had gone, and the 
 wind tumbled his hair. As he shot out from under the 
 cliff, he looked up at us all with 
 
 "... such a brightness in his eye ! 
 As if the ocean and the sky- 
 Within him had lit up and nurst 
 A soul God gave him not at first, 
 To comprehend their majesty." 
 
 W^e could not see where the waves broke beneath us for 
 the shelving of the cliff, but from time to time a shower 
 of blinding white spray rose high in the air above us, a 
 lace-like veil of foam, concealing the sea, and falling back 
 upon us in heavy showers. This occurred almost immedi- 
 
BOOMELLEN. 203 
 
 ately after Boomellen appeared. Holding our breath 
 in an agony of suspense, we saw him for one moment, 
 then came the blinding spray, but when we looked again 
 he was gone. He had vanished for ever, and as utterly as 
 if he had never been. 
 
 Ineffectual life, ineffectual death ; but perhaps it was 
 appropriate that the shining sea should take him. 
 
 14 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 His real name was Keene, but Cain he mispronounced 
 it, being of Irish blood ; and Society, reluctant to brand 
 him with the accursed appellation of Adam's eldest son, 
 compromised the matter by spelling it Kane. And Kane 
 he remained to us all till the end of the chapter. 
 
 He was a reprobate, and he looked old, but was in 
 point of fact not so well up in years as he was in wicked 
 ways, being only about forty when he came to us. He 
 had served in the tropics for many years, and had had a 
 hard life in other aspects both in and out of the service, 
 and that had aged him. 
 
 He was a short man, narrow-chested for a soldier, 
 *' bad on his feet " — rather hobbling in his gait, as if his 
 ammunition boots hurt him. His mouth was large and 
 straight, a mere gash, hidden by a heavy moustache. 
 His nose was broad at the nostrils, his eyes small, bright, 
 " peery," and quick-glancing, but expressionless, and set 
 so deep in their sockets and so shaded by bushy eyebrows 
 that their vivacity was not striking. His hair, innocent 
 of parting, stood up on end all round his forehead, which 
 was low, as it does in some monkeys. It was grey, and 
 abundant. So also were his moustache and whiskers. 
 The latter he chose to wear Dundreary fashion, although 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 205 
 
 contrary to regulation, and the consequence was a stand- 
 ing order to shave, whicli order Kane, met by a standing 
 objection to do so. At first, under compulsion, that is to 
 say in the presence of a non-commissioned officer told ofT 
 to see the duty done, Kane had been compelled to dock 
 his beloved whiskers. He would look ashamed of him- 
 self, and exhibit symptoms of mental depression for some 
 time afterwards, but would appear eventually with his 
 whiskers as big as ever, and an air of mild triumph not to 
 be concealed. And this happened so often that at last 
 none but new-comers ever thought of interfering with his 
 whiskers — or, indeed, of interfering with him at all. For 
 Kane was a privileged person. He was always being 
 humoured and let off, and had managed by dint of perse- 
 verance to get his own way in everything. But whether 
 his persistence was due to obtuseness or to force of charac- 
 ter, I cannot say. Only his position at the depot was 
 unique, and he had made it for himself somehow. One 
 day a newly appointed commanding officer held a kit in- 
 spection. All the men's clothing had to be laid out neatly 
 on their beds, and of course our own Kane's with the rest. 
 His things appeared to be in good order, especially the 
 socks, which were folded to perfection, with the long welts 
 uppermost. Kane stood to attention beside the bed, with 
 a face as impassive as that of an ape in mischief. The 
 Colonel seemed satisfied and was passing on, when, as ill 
 luck would have it, somebody stopped him with a word. 
 He paused to reply, absently turning the socks over with 
 his swaggerstick as he spoke, and finally picking one up 
 on the point of it. The welt was whole, but the rest of 
 the sock, alas ! dropi)ed into what looked like an elaborate 
 
206 RANK, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 pattern in woollen lace. The trick caused some amuse- 
 ment, but it also called the Colonel's attention to Kane 
 himself, and he asked who that shambling old fellow was. 
 Kane was a time-expired man, who ought to have been 
 retired long before, and was only kept on by the conniv- 
 ance of everybody — at least of all who knew him ; and 
 there was always a chance of our losing him in the event 
 of a commanding officer coming who knew him not, and 
 sending him about his business before he had the pleasure 
 of making his acquaintance. The evil day was deferred, 
 however, on this occasion by the timely tact of the Adju- 
 tant, and afterwards, when the Colonel himself was heard 
 to speak of Kane as " old heel-and-toe," we knew he 
 was safe for a while. He could not have marched a 
 mile or carried a rifle to save his life, and had therefore 
 to be returned in some capacity w^hich would get him ex- 
 cused from drill, and, accordingly, before he became a 
 soldier-servant, he was attached to the hospital, and slept 
 there. On arriving at the depot, his master lived in bar- 
 racks for a short time, and, trained servants being scarce, 
 Kane was appointed to wait on him as a temporary ar- 
 rangement, but continued to sleep in hospital. He had 
 never been an officer's servant before, but it was thought 
 that his honesty would make up for his ignorance ; and 
 the latter was not such a great inconvenience after all, as 
 he soon learnt from the other servants what was required 
 of him. In this new billet he was also exempt from mar- 
 tial duties. 
 
 He proved himself from the first to be the most me- 
 thodical old machine on earth. Having set himself to 
 perform a duty at a certain time nothing short of physical 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 207 
 
 force would prevent him. Lighting the fire in the morn- 
 ing was the first difficulty. It was very cold weather, and 
 Kane chose to light it at an inconveniently early hour, 
 and would come clattering down the bare passages in his 
 heavy ammunition boots before daylight, humming like a 
 steam saw. He hummed always, whatever he might be 
 doing and wherever he might be, keeping up a sort of 
 buzz on and about one note, scarcely ever as much as a 
 semitone above or below, and this, together with his pe- 
 culiar step, woke everybody, and many were the boots and 
 blessings showered upon him by the young officers, and 
 much was he remonstrated with about the early hours he 
 kept, but arguments of all kinds were unavailing. His 
 master ordered him to come later, and he answered " Yes, 
 sorr," respectfully, but appeared next day as usual. The 
 order was repeated, but the result was the same. When 
 asked what he meant by coming so early, he would meek- 
 ly hold his peace, but would look at the clock in such a 
 way as to make his master doubt if he had not inadvert- 
 ently mentioned that time, and the result would be a low- 
 ering of the master's tone, and the eventual triumph of 
 the man. 
 
 "When we, " the family," arrived, Kane kindly came to 
 help us to settle, and I made his acquaintance among the 
 packing cases. I was in tlie front kitchen, and, hearing 
 a curious, monotonous humming, I looked about to see 
 whence it came. At first nothing was visible but a big 
 box in the back kitchen and a stack of straw ; but on 
 peering over this I caught the blaze of a scarlet coat, and 
 there was old Kane on his knees, his bushy grey whiskers 
 all powdered with sawdust, unpacking some Oriental china 
 
208 KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 with a loving touch that won my heart. He was too ab- 
 sorbed to notice me, but that does not mean that he was 
 working hard. He was merely interested in some good 
 specimens of an art entirely new to him. He took each 
 plate up tenderly and admired it on all sides, and then 
 laid it on the ground and looked at it from a distance 
 with a pleased expression of countenance ; and all the 
 time he kept up a hum as incessant as the babble of a 
 brook. 
 
 He had come to help us also as a temporary arrange- 
 ment. As a servant he was practically useless. The no- 
 tion of Kane with his curious feet, in livery, or Kane 
 with his bushy whiskers waiting at table, was ridiculous ; 
 but before he had been a week in the house he had cast 
 his spell upon us. A sense of humour is in the family ; 
 he amused us ; and so we kept him — and got a maid to 
 do his work. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that he did absolutely 
 nothing. He took a certain amount on himself when 
 he first came, and did that amount with the regularity of 
 clockwork, but neither more nor less, however much he 
 might be begged, prayed, conciliated, threatened, com- 
 manded, or caressed. In the early morning he brushed 
 boots, polished some brass-work about the front door, 
 rubbed up his master's spurs and spur-chains, and brushed 
 his coats and hats. The latter he did with an energy and 
 frequency that destroyed the nap very early in their ex- 
 istence. He must have found something morally elevat- 
 ing in the brushing of hats, for if he happened to be in 
 a more than usually conscientious mood, he returned to 
 them and did them again. The overcoats he brushed as 
 
KAXE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 209 
 
 they hung from the pegs as if he were grooming a horse 
 — bahincing himself against them with his left hand, cur- 
 rycombing with his right, and looking out sharply as if 
 it were for a kick, while he kept up that buzzing noise 
 through his puffed -out lips, which seems to be indispen- 
 sable in the grooming of a horse. 
 
 In the afternoon he cleaned the knives and plate, and 
 smoked a pipe ; and I think that was all he did do. He 
 also fed the birds and cats, but that was in the morning 
 before breakfast. The cats he did not like, but as they 
 were members of the family he was always polite to them. 
 For Kane was loyal before everything. 
 
 His attachment to the youngest of our party, a little 
 golden-haired boy of six, was dog-like in its dumb fidelity. 
 They were always together if Kane could manage it, and 
 he never objected to anything he had to do for the child. 
 He would grub about in the ditches for monsters to put 
 in his aquarium, and bring buckets of water of his own 
 accord for it ; and he would even carry parcels up from 
 the town for the boy, although it is against orders for a 
 soldier to be seen carrying a parcel, and is the thing of all 
 others that they most dislike to have to do. They were a 
 curious pair, the bright intelligent child with his babble 
 of innocent talk and laughter, and the wreck of a man, 
 vice-worn, silent, and subdued. What passed through 
 his "dim, dreaming consciousness" as he listened to the 
 boy was often a subject of speculation, but Kane could 
 not have expressed it himself. He had not even been 
 taught to read and write ; every intellectual faculty was 
 dormant ; probably his command of language was limited 
 to the fewest possible number of words ; his powers of 
 
210 KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 comprehension were purely emotional ; it was through his 
 senses that his brain was reached ; but he did feel, I am 
 sure of that. Things beautiful delighted him as they do 
 a child, he appreciated without understanding them, and 
 they made him " feel nice," as his little master used to 
 express it — " Oh, mamma, do sing that song again ! It 
 makes me feel so nice ! " 
 
 It was curious though to mark Kane's limitations. 
 Certain things which delighted us had no power whatever 
 to move him, the songs of birds for instance. He knew 
 that I enjoyed them. I brought up a thrush by hand one 
 summer, and waited eagerly to hear him sing. He made 
 no attempt for a long time, but at last one morning, 
 when I was not thinking of him, I was disturbed by a 
 noise which sounded like a cork being rubbed on a win- 
 dow-pane, and Kane came hobbling in, the bearer of 
 good news evidently. " Ma'am ! " he exclaimed, " will ye 
 haarrk to the meelodious throosh ? " One noise from a 
 bird's throat was as pleasant as another to poor Kane. 
 
 Kane's strong point was his honesty, his weak point 
 an amorous disposition. To be good looking was in 
 Kane's estimation to be virtuous, and he was consequent- 
 ly at the mercy of every worthless creature wearing a 
 petticoat who chose to smile upon him. On one occasion, 
 while he was with us, he stayed absent without leave, and, 
 on being sought, was found in a small public-house with 
 fourteen damsels, treating them all. 
 
 There was some depth, doubtless, in this poor man 
 which we never plumbed, some power to care beneath 
 that surface of quaint ways. But it was a curious, lonely 
 life he led, such a life as would have driven most men 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 211 
 
 mad. As he could not read, he had no resources in him- 
 self, and his pipe was his only solace at idle times. In 
 the afternoon when he returned to Barracks, his day's 
 work was practically done. lie left our house between 
 three and four, and did not reappear until seven next 
 morning: and usually spent the interval in sleep. He 
 had no relations that I ever heard of, and made no 
 friends. There was another prematurely old reprobate, 
 very like him in appearance, who was said to be his 
 "chum," but I do not know upon what authority, as 
 they were never seen together. Perhaps it was the 
 singular resemblance which made the men say first of all, 
 that they ought to be " chums," and afterwards drift 
 into the habit of thinking that they were. They were 
 men of kindred vices, which is always a bond of union, 
 and of the same standing in the service, having been re- 
 cruits together ; but still I do not believe that they were 
 friends, and I am inclined to think that Kane never really 
 had a friend. The other men tried " to chum " with him, 
 but he repelled them all, and went his own solitary way, 
 silent and uncomplaining. I was going to say unobserv- 
 ant too, but those deep-sunk eyes of his looked out from 
 under his bushy brows at times, and sparkled in a way 
 tliat, taken with a slight quivering of the lips under his 
 moustache, betrayed some change of expression disguised 
 by that crinose mask, which suggested a doubt on the 
 subject. But at any rate there must have been a time 
 when even Kane was young and ardent, full of pride and 
 pleasure in the present, and plan and purpose for the 
 future ; a love-time when the ignorant private soldier 
 had felt himself for the moment "equal to the god." 
 
212 KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 We never heard the details of the story. All of it that 
 we do know, is what every raw recruit was told when he 
 came to the barracks. " Do you see that old fellow there? 
 Well, he cut his throat once." " What for ? " " 'Cos he 
 was a fool." " But why was he a fool ? " " Oh, some- 
 thing about his young woman. They didn't hit it off. 
 Deserted him or something. At any rate, he cut his 
 throat." "And he didn't die?" "Why no, ye idiot! 
 how could he be there if he'd died?" And how, one 
 wonders, after feeling strongly enough to do such a deed, 
 did he drift into such passivity, taking no thought for the 
 morrow, nor for anything else apparently ? 
 
 But, although the apathetic state in which we found 
 him had become his normal condition, he had his moods 
 like other men, and would break out occasionally — break 
 out of barracks and disappear for two or three days at a 
 time. On his return he would be made prisoner for be- 
 ing absent without leave, and let of as a rule with a fine. 
 Then he would return to us, slink into the back kitchen, 
 looking very much ashamed of himself, and behave as 
 usual till the next time. We were very much troubled 
 about these drunken bouts of his, but the difficulty was to 
 know what to do. Should he be sent to his duty if it oc- 
 curred again? Surely not, for in that case he would be 
 discharged from the service, and then what would become 
 of him? But wasn't he a Eoman Catholic? Why not 
 try the priest? There was one in the town at the time, 
 of whom we knew something, and as a forlorn hope Kane 
 was sent to him one morning with a note, detailing the 
 circumstances of the case, and begging him to use his in- 
 fluence to induce Kane to take the pledge. The latter, not 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 213 
 
 knowing the object of the visit, was surprised into com- 
 pliance. The priest only induced him to take it for tliree 
 months, thinking it not wise to dishearten him by trying 
 his fortitude for too long a period to begin with. And 
 Kane kept the pledge religiously to the day, and then he 
 " went on the spree." He certainly did " go on the 
 spree." He must have been looking forward to that 
 " spree," and thinking of little else during the whole three 
 months. When he returned he was still suffering from 
 the effects thereof, and, taking advantage of the conse- 
 quent depression, we sent him again to the priest, and 
 again he took the pledge for three months, kept it, doubt- 
 less enjoying the novelty of having something to look for- 
 ward to the while ; and then he had his " spree." And 
 this happened regularly for two years, during which time 
 we had nothing but his periodical absences to complain of, 
 as he never came to the house drunk. But about the end 
 of the second year, the other servants began to find fault 
 with him. They said he did nothing, and made himself 
 objectionable, and they would rather do his work than 
 have him about. 
 
 We did not listen to these hints for some time, think- 
 ing the real truth was that a younger and smarter man 
 would please the maids better; but, unfortunately for 
 Kane, he broke through his rule at Christmas, and came 
 to the house one day the worse for drink. He had a black 
 eye, too, which he said was caused by a splinter that flew 
 in his face, when he was chopping firewood. The fault 
 was overlooked on that occasion, it being Christmas time, 
 and every temptation having been put in the poor man's 
 way. But it happened again a short time afterwards, and 
 
2U KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 what with that and the other servants' complaints, we 
 felt we must get rid of him. 
 
 It would be hard to say why we were all so attached 
 to this old good-for-nothing, but of all the household re- 
 tainers we have had to part with, I think he was the one 
 about whom we felt heaviest-hearted when it came to the 
 point. The quality of faithfulness which we had discerned 
 in him from the first was, perhaps, at the bottom of it. 
 He was a worthless old dog, but he was our own old dog, 
 and for that we valued him. That he felt as much as we 
 did about it I cannot say, for he made no sign, but just 
 plodded on in his old way to the last, and then stumped 
 out, without a word to any of us. One day, he came and 
 did his work as usual, but he did not return on the next. 
 That was all. We shall not forget him, however. His 
 accustomed place is still empty, and wijl not again be 
 filled. 
 
 I have thought since he left us, that his apparent in- 
 difference was entirely due to a certain shyness, the kind 
 of shyness which makes a sensitive child dumb. He had 
 no power of expression, and was shamefaced ; but he 
 must have felt. He left the barracks, however, when he 
 was discharged from the service a short time afterwards, 
 as he had left us, without a word ; and from the day of 
 his departure nobody ever saw him there again. He had 
 considerably over twenty years' service, and most men 
 would have gone back to talk over old times, but not so 
 Kane ; nor did he leave any address behind him, so that 
 nobody at the depot ever heard anything about him after 
 he took his discharge. There had been a rumour for 
 some time before he left us, that he was " keeping com- 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 215 
 
 pany with a young woman," which meant a serious en- 
 gagement, but the notion seemed so. preposterous we took 
 no notice of it, thinking it was chaff. Then it was said 
 that the " young woman " was not young at all, but an 
 elderly widow with five children, and this news struck us 
 as even more objectionable than the other, for we all 
 imagined a big coarse woman with red arms, a perfect 
 termagant in fact, for whom poor old Kane, who was 
 quite decrepit, would be no match. The idea of Kane in 
 love was ridiculous, but the idea of Kane in bondage was 
 not to be tolerated, so we dismissed it. AVe felt he was 
 one of those characters round whom the myth and story 
 collect inevitably after their disappearance, and were pre- 
 pared to accept all that might be said of him in future 
 with caution. 
 
 It was months after his departure before we heard 
 anything definite about him, and then one of the boys 
 burst in upon us suddenly with the startling news that 
 Kane had gone on the stage ! We received the announce- 
 ment with derision, but there was some truth in it after 
 all. A circus had been settled in the place for some time, 
 and Kane was employed there to carry a flag in a proces- 
 sion at a shilling a night. This was the first positive 
 news we had had of him, but soon afterwards I met him 
 in the street. He was dressed in blue serge like a work- 
 ing man in his best things, but looked more soldier-like 
 than he had done in uniform. I stopped to speak to 
 him. 
 
 " And is it true that you are married, Kane ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
216 KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 " I should like to go and see your wife if I may. 
 Where do you live ? " 
 
 lie at once gave me an address; but Mrs. Kane did 
 not live there, and no one in that neighbourhood had ever 
 heard of such people. 
 
 Conchiding that he had his own reasons for mislead- 
 ing me, we determined to respect them, and accordingly 
 made no further enquiries. The next news we had of him 
 was equally startling, but in another way. We were told 
 that Kane was in prison for neglecting to maintain his 
 wife and step-children. AVe doubted this, however, for 
 we learnt at the same time that his wife was a fustian 
 cutter, and as work was plentiful just then she could not 
 be in absolute want. We meant to make proper enquiries, 
 however, but delayed for some reason or other, and the 
 next thing we heard of him was the sad news that he had 
 committed suicide. It was said that he had hanged him- 
 self because of his wife's misconduct. We blamed our- 
 selves then for not doing more for him in spite of himself, 
 and had rather a lively discussion on the subject one even- 
 ing, half our party maintaining that since he chose to 
 sever the connection we were not at all bound to look 
 after him, while the rest retorted that as we were attached 
 to him we were bound to look after him, attachment being 
 a bond which carries obligation as well as pleasure. In 
 the midst of the discussion the Colonel came in. " Is it 
 Kane you are bothering about?" he said. "The old 
 scoundrel ! I saw him in the town just now, selling 
 sticks." 
 
 For the next two years we heard nothing more of 
 him. During the winter of the second year the Lanca- 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 917 
 
 sliire operatives suffered terribly from the prevalent com- 
 mercial depression, and consequent want of work. Soup 
 kitchens, and clothing clubs, and every other effort 
 known to the charitable, was being made to prevent 
 starvation and relieve distress, but numbers of the people 
 died nevertheless, and quite a third of the population 
 tramped away to other places in search of work ; and as 
 we heard nothing of Kane we thought it likely that he 
 had drifted away with the rest. One day, however, I was 
 told that a poor woman wanted to see me. This was an 
 hourly occurrence, and we were all more or less worn with 
 the constant strain. She was a delicate-looking woman, 
 poorly, but cleanly clad, with a sweet and patient face. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ma'am," she said, " but will ye 
 plaze come to see me husband ? Shure he's dying, he is. 
 He wouldn't let me come to ask ye for nawthing, but, 
 now he's going, he'd like to spake wid ye, if ye'd be so 
 good." 
 
 " Who is your husband ? " I asked. 
 
 « Kane ! " 
 
 She led me up a narrow stair into a large, light garret, 
 a poor place, furnished with a chair and table and box or 
 two, but little else. 
 
 On the floor in the corner nearest to the scrap of Are 
 was a straw mattress covered with canvas, and on this the 
 old, worn soldier lay, partially dressed, and propped with 
 a pillow made of a sack stuffed with straw and covered 
 with an old rug. His wife took off her shred of a shawl 
 and spread it over his feet, which were bare. He was evi- 
 dently dying, but the bushy beard which he had grown 
 since I saw him lust was neatly trimmed, so also was his 
 
218 KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 liair, and tliere was a general air of cleanliness about him, 
 as of discipline and order successfully struggling to the 
 last with poverty and death. 
 
 He brought his thin right hand to his forehead when 
 I entered, and tried to look impassive as the men do when 
 tliey salute their officers, but he was too weak to conceal 
 the gleam of satisfaction that lit his haggard countenance 
 on seeing me. 
 
 There was a little box near the bed, and I sat down 
 upon that. The snow was falling softly outside, and 
 Kane was very cold, but fortunately we knew only too 
 well what would be wanted when we were sent for in 
 those days, and a servant had followed me w^ith food and 
 fuel and wine and warm blankets. When I covered Kane 
 up with the latter, he patted them with a pleased ex- 
 pression, and then hid his poor benumbed hands beneath 
 them, glad of the grateful warmth. His wife resumed her 
 thin shawl, and stood in apathetic silence, watching the 
 servant making up the fire. I gave her some wine, and 
 then she sat down, staring stupidly before her, while 
 great tears fell at intervals unheeded on her folded hands. 
 
 " Oh, Kane ! " I said, " why didn't you send for me 
 sooner ? " 
 
 The woman roused herself upon that, and answered 
 for him. 
 
 " He wouldn't, ma'am, because we wasn't married — 
 leastways, not as you would like. I had another husband, 
 and he bate me, and he bate the children, and he took 
 every penny I earned, and spent it on dhrink ; and Kane 
 ses, ses he, ' Mary,' ses he, ' if you'll marry me, I'll pertect 
 ye,' says he, and I couldn't because of the other mon. 
 
KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 219 
 
 But he went away, and it was a hard battle to keep the 
 childer, but I did it, and got a little home about me, an 
 had a shilling in mo pocket, and me close daccnt, and the 
 childer nate and clane ; and then he come back and bate 
 me again, and druv the childer out into the street, and 
 used language such as niver was, and sould all me things 
 for the dhrink, and Kane ses, ses he, ' Mary,' ses he, ' don't 
 ye be afther standing it,' ses he. * Hev him up, and the 
 magistrate '11 separate ye, and thin ye can marry me,' ses 
 he. ' I've got me pension, and you and the childer shan't 
 starve, whatever comes,' ses he. So I had him up, and 
 the magistrate separated us, and gave him six months; 
 but the praste wouldn't marry me and Kane. He said I 
 was still me other husband's wife, but Kane wouldn't 
 belave it after all the magistrate had said about granting 
 a separation ; so we went to the Registry, and Kane tould 
 him I hadn't a husband, and he married us his way. And 
 Kane kep' his worrd by me and the childer, he did, true 
 for ye, ma'am. But the bad times cam', and I could get 
 no worrk, neither could he, and what was his pension, 
 ma'am? a shilling a day, and three of them a week for 
 lodgings, and five childer to keep. And I wanted him to 
 go to you, and he wouldn't, because why, he ses, ses he, 
 we wasn't married as you would like. And Kane got 
 waker and waker wi' givin' his bread to the childer ; and 
 thin, ma'am, me firrst husband cam back, and they had a 
 set-to, and Kane got the worrst of it, and he's laid there 
 iver since, three months. And I wanted to go to you, and 
 he wouldn't let me, because, he ses, ses he, we wasn't mar- 
 ried as you would like. But me firrst husband was killed 
 last week, ma'am, in a street row, and then Kane ses to me, 
 15 
 
220 KANE, A SOLDIER SERVANT. 
 
 ses he, * Fetch the praste, Mary,' ses he. And the praste 
 cam' this morning, and we was marrid again, and then 
 Kane ses, * Mary,' ses he, * go for the missus now.' So I 
 cam'." 
 
 Too late. Three days afterwards I covered the straw 
 mattress with flowers, the best to be had for love or money, 
 and stood looking down at the quiet face, pinched from 
 privation, but placid, with the look of content upon it 
 which it had worn from the moment I entered his room. 
 
 Poor Kane ! — poor ignorant Kane ! immoral old Irish 
 reprobate, liar, drunkard, inciter to bigamy, would-be 
 suicide — dead for want of the bread he had given to his 
 rival's children, dead defending them and the woman he 
 loved — faithful, honest, uncomplaining, considerate to the 
 last ; his poor, decrepit body gone to its hard-earned rest, 
 but the chivalrous soul so long concealed from the world 
 that wants words, ah ! where in Heaven's justice will it be 
 when opportunities are considered, virtues weighed against 
 vices, and the award of merit meted out to prince and 
 private alike by the power which is no respecter of persons ? 
 
AH MAN. 
 
 A HOUSE managed by Chinese servants works as if it 
 were subject to natural law which is inevitable rather than 
 to human discipline that can be evaded. If you dismiss 
 your butler at breakfast, his substitute will stand behind 
 your chair at lunch, and go about his business from the 
 moment he arrives as if he had been in your service all 
 his life. Once let him know your wishes, and everything 
 will be arranged to suit them ; but woe be to you if you 
 are not a person of regular habits, for his motive power is 
 a kind of clockwork which resents interference, and if 
 you would put him back or hurry him on the probability 
 is he will stop or break up altogether — at least, this is the 
 view of him that is generally accepted. Ordinary Euro- 
 peans who come in contact with him never seem to sus- 
 pect that a servant so methodical can be anything but a 
 machine. What precisely the human nature of him is in 
 detail, wherein exactly he resembles or differs from us, 
 opportunities never enabled me to decide ; but once there 
 came under my observation a profoundly interesting speci- 
 men, interesting as an enigma, the solution to which I 
 seem to see, although I cannot find a formula in which to 
 express it. 
 
 Our butler had deen dismissed in the morning; and 
 
222 All MAN. 
 
 in the afternoon I was sitting alone upstairs in the veran- 
 dali overlooking a grove of mango trees, the heavy foliage 
 of which formed a screen between me and inquisitive 
 amahs and coolies who might be loitering in the road be- 
 low. The fruit shone ochre against the green in the 
 cloudless sunshine. There were two doors to the verandah, 
 one leading into my sitting-room, and another on to the 
 landing. Ascending to the latter was a carpetless stair- 
 case which echoed noisily to every tread, and as I sat 
 fanning myself drowsily with a book on my lap, I became 
 aware of the dull regular thud of rigid wooden soles 
 clumping up, and knew that a Chinaman was ascending. 
 It was a peculiarly emphatic, doggedly determined clump, 
 clump up, not at all like the step of any of our own servants. 
 I thought there was the stiffness of age in it, and when it 
 stopped an undue time outside the closed door, I sup- 
 posed my visitor was recovering his breath before he 
 knocked. He omitted the latter ceremony altogether, 
 however, as being a foolish, " foreign devil " fashion, per- 
 haps, to which a superior Chinaman could not be expected 
 to conform, and, opening the door at his leisure, looked 
 in. His eyes met mine in the act, but his sallow face 
 might have been a mask worn to conceal his emotions, so 
 perfectly blank was it of any intelligible expression. 
 
 We surveyed each other some seconds in silence, then 
 he suggested abruptly in a gruff voice, uttering the words 
 without emphasis, as if they had been let loose mechanic- 
 ally : " Wanshee butler ? " 
 
 Certainly I wanted a butler, but my first thought was, 
 " Not one with your manners, my friend, nor with such a 
 cast of countenance." I did not say so, however. In 
 
All MAN. 223 
 
 fact I said nothing, but sat still and stared hard at him, 
 thereby causing his conscience to smite him without in- 
 tending it, for as I continued to gaze he removed his little 
 black silk cap, slowly unwound his long thick pigtail, 
 which had been coiled round his head, dropped it behind 
 him, and replaced his cap. It is disrespectful for a serv- 
 ant to appear with his pigtail rolled up, but I could not 
 tell if his coming so had been insolence or inadvertence. 
 In any case, however, I considered that he had apologised, 
 and let it pass. 
 
 He had a bundle of what looked like foreign * letters 
 in his hand, " chits " of character doubtless from former 
 employers, and these he handed to me now without 
 further preliminary. " Ah Man has asked me to write 
 him a recommendation," I read on the first, " and as I am 
 convinced that he will bathe in my blood if I refuse, I 
 write him this in self-defence." " This is to certify," the 
 next ran, " that Ah Man is the wickedest old scoundrel 
 in China." " If you have courage for anything engage 
 Ah Man, but not otherwise, as with him you never know 
 what to expect," I read further; and yet another was 
 couched in similar terms. 
 
 Ah Man had watched me reading these productions. 
 *' Very good chit ? " he suggested with some show of self- 
 satisfaction when I looked up. 
 
 " Remarkable," I answered. " There is a kind of 
 agreement about them that is convincing." 
 
 "My stop?" he asked. 
 
 I pursed my mouth, and shook my head. 
 
 * In China everything that is not Chinese is called foreign. 
 
224 An MAN. 
 
 He turned imperturbably to go, or so I should have 
 thought had I not surprised a glance of his oblique brown 
 eyes, a flash expressive of despair if ever an eye expressed 
 anything, or so I feared, and I hesitated. 
 
 " Wait, Ah Man," I said. " To-morrow I let you 
 know." 
 
 " Chin chin," he responded, taking his left hand in 
 his right and shaking it towards me, Chinese fashion. 
 " Chin chin," he muttered again as he slowly closed the 
 door. Clearly, it seemed to me, his courtesies depended 
 upon my good manners ; if I showed him no considera- 
 tion, I need not expect any. 
 
 My next visitor was a colonial official, who arrived so 
 soon after Ah Man had retired that I was sure they must 
 have met on the stairs, and I was right. 
 
 " What was that old rascal, Ah Man, doing here ? " he 
 began immediately. 
 
 " You know him, then ? " 
 
 " Know him ? I should think so ! Everybody knows 
 him, and no one will have him in their service. He's no- 
 torious." 
 
 '^ But what has he done ? " I asked. 
 
 " Everything, I should think. He made his name and 
 became celebrated through taking advantage of an indis- 
 cretion on the part of one of his masters. There is a cer- 
 tain kind of British officer, you know, who thrashes his 
 servants. He comes from India, where the natives are 
 weakly and cannot retaliate, and therefore it is safe to 
 thrash them. One Captain Guthrie Brimston, who was 
 quartered here, entertained the same delusion with regard 
 to the Chinese at first. Ah Man was his servant and an- 
 
AH MAN. 225 
 
 noyed him one day, and he determined to thrash him. 
 He called him in for the purpose, and gave him fair warn- 
 ing of his intention. 'All light,'* Ah Man responded 
 cheerfully. Then he went to the door and bolted it, 
 which, having accomplished, he squared up to Captain 
 Guthrie Brimston, politely intimated that he was ready, 
 begged him to come on, and offered to wipe him ' off of a 
 face of cleation.' By that time, however. Captain Guthrie 
 Brimston had changed his mind ; but, unfortunately for 
 him, Ah Man, with the tenacity for which his race is dis- 
 tinguished, stuck to the point ; and it was a poor satisfac- 
 tion which Captain Guthrie Brimston afterwards secured 
 at the police court." 
 
 " Ah Man is interesting ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, laughing; "he has distinguished 
 himself in some equally unexpected way in every house 
 he has entered yet." 
 
 " He is decidedly interesting," I repeated. " There is 
 the charm of the unexpected in his character, which is ir- 
 resistible." 
 
 " Well, I warn you, if you have anything to do with 
 him you'll repent it." 
 
 When my visitor had gone I rang for the boy. " Go 
 catchee Ah Man chop chop," f I said. " My likee he for 
 butler." 
 
 So many original recommendations had been too much 
 for me ; I was impatient to secure him, and felt that if I 
 failed I should have lost one of the great chances of my life. 
 
 * In pidgin English I is substituted for r. 
 f Immediately. 
 
22G All MAN. 
 
 Next day when I came down to breakfast I found be- 
 side my plate an exquisite arrangement of pinky blossom 
 in a blue and white china jar of quaint design. Jar and 
 flowers together were a work of art. " Where did they 
 come from?" I exclaimed. 
 
 " My no savee," the boy answered stolidly. 
 
 A servant came round from behind and handed me a 
 dish at the same moment, and on looking up in surprise 
 to see who it was, for I had not noticed another in the 
 room, I recognised the sinister visage of Ah Man, the new 
 butler ; but I never dreamt of associating him with the 
 exquisite offering of flowers. 
 
 Besides the butler and " boy," who answers to a foot- 
 man at home, we had a Larn-pidgin in our household at 
 that time. Larn-pidgin (literally Learn-business) is a 
 young boy who comes to be trained ; he gives his help in 
 return for the training, and does as much damage as he can 
 in the time. We happened just then to have a particu- 
 larly interesting Larn-pidgin. He was a Christian by 
 profession, a thief by nature, devoured by curiosity, and 
 garrulous to a degree, his favourite role being that of 
 chorus to cast light on all that was obscure in the conduct 
 of the other members of the establishment. I was his 
 audience, or rather his victim, for he never spared me the 
 result of his observations if it pleased him to keep me in- 
 formed. He did not profess to have any respect for me, 
 but spoke of me habitually as the " foreign devil's " wife, 
 mimicked my manners, and laughed unaffectedly at my 
 dress. 
 
 Larn-pidgin was privileged to be present at every 
 meal, and took advantage of the privilege more or less 
 
AH MAN. 227 
 
 regularly. As might have been expected, he had come in 
 that morning to study Ah Man, and iound the pursuit so 
 absorbing that he did not trouble himself to wait upon us, 
 but tacked about the room, taking observations appar- 
 ently from different points of view. Suddenly there was 
 a tremendous crash behind me, and boy and butler rolled 
 on the floor amidst much wreckage of plates and dishes. 
 They had been going quickly in opposite directions, but 
 had been brought up short with a jerk, Larn-pidgin hav- 
 ing managed, as they stood at the side-board taking things 
 up to carry away, to tie their pigtails together. So I 
 thought we might anticipate wild times of trouble be- 
 tween him and Ah Man. 
 
 The next time he had me at his mercy, being alone, 
 he began about the dainty gift of flowers. Having been 
 brought up by the missionaries, he spoke much better 
 English than the other servants. 
 
 " Wanshee know who kumshaw* you them flowers?" 
 he began. " / savee. That Ah Man." 
 
 " Why should he give me them ? " I asked. 
 
 " Lord knows," Larn-pidgin piously ejaculated. 
 
 In spite of ominous predictions, all went well in the 
 household from the time that Ah Man took charge of it. 
 He was an excellent servant. There was the occasional 
 hubbub of a fierce dispute down in the servants' quarters, 
 and in looking over the verandah one caught glimpses of 
 Larn-pidgin fugitive, and Ah Man with a stick in hot 
 pursuit ; but these were outdoor incidents that did not 
 affect the indoor comfort of our daily lives, or the re- 
 
 * Present. 
 
228 AH MAN. 
 
 spectable decorum of our attendants when on duty. Most 
 of my time was spent in reading, writing, and music, and 
 I soon noticed that Ah Man took a curious interest in my 
 pursuits. He alarmed me at first by persistently dusting 
 my papers, about the arrangement of which I was particu- 
 lar ; but I soon found that although he lingered long over 
 them, patting them as if he were petting them, he never 
 disturbed their order. My music, too, invariably brought 
 him upstairs, and he would loiter about listening as long 
 as I played. Larn-pidgin had done the same at first, and I 
 had been so glad to think I was giving the poor boy 
 pleasure that in a weak moment I asked him what he 
 thought of my playing. 
 
 " I tinkee awful," he rejoined. 
 
 There come crises in life, whether of mental or physi- 
 cal origin, which set in with a sudden distaste for every- 
 thing hitherto habitual. Interest goes out of the old 
 pursuits, joy from the old pleasures, life is blank as a wall 
 without windows, and the patient sinks at last utterly 
 enervated. When one falls into this phase in the tropics 
 the result is apt to be serious. You pass from an ener- 
 getic attitude to an easy chair, from the chair to a 
 couch, and then to bed, from whence you will not again 
 arise unless roused by some vitalising force from without. 
 It was the hot weather when Ah Man came to us, and 
 soon afterwards I fell into this state of indiiference. It 
 grew upon me gradually until all the old occupations 
 were abandoned. I was not very observant at the time, 
 but it has since occurred to me that as my health de- 
 clined I began to see more and more of Ah Man. He 
 never spoke except in answer to some remark of mine, 
 
All MAN. 229 
 
 and then his replies consisted of a single syllabic, or even 
 a grunt if he could make that do, but he began to hover 
 with his feather dusting-brush in his hand about my sit- 
 ting-room, and especially about my writing-table, at hours 
 that were unconscionable for dusting, and now I believe 
 that on those occasions he came to satisfy himself ; he 
 wanted to see if I had been able to work. When I could 
 not eat my breakfast, he would appear in the middle of 
 the morning with a cup of beef-tea, which he would set 
 down beside me silently, and if I had not touched it when 
 he returned he would quietly take it away, and come 
 again later with something else. He never said a word, 
 nor did I, except to thank him. 
 
 Larn-pitlgin was naturally very much on the spot at 
 this time, interpreting in his character of chorus. Larn- 
 pidgin was a cynic without any conception of what wo 
 mean by disinterested affection. 
 
 " Ah Man tink you makee die," he told me one day 
 cheerfully, " and he not get 'nother number one mis- 
 sissee." 
 
 When I was in the last stage of the subtle disorder, 
 and could no longer get up, his attentions redoubled. I 
 had an English maid, but he came into my room as by 
 right whenever he could frame a pretext, and watched 
 my face furtively as I had seen him examine my writ- 
 ings, as if he would fain decipher the signs he could not 
 comprehend. He was an artist in the arrangement of 
 flowers, and would bring me fresh ones almost every day, 
 each more exquisite than the last. It was all done, how- 
 ever, with a singular gravity. There was never a smile 
 on his face, never a sign of any emotion ; only his eyes 
 
230 An MAN. 
 
 showed the intelligence within, but even they said no 
 more than we see in the eyes of animals when they are 
 watchful. 
 
 A friend of mine had an amah,* a nice woman, whom 
 she often sent to me with messages at this time. Ah 
 Man would show her in, but he always did it in a 
 lordly way, as if he despised her. Larn-pidgin came con- 
 tinually, waiting and watching doubtless with the deepest 
 interest for early symptoms of my dissolution. On one 
 of these occasions I had been wondering why Ah Man 
 was so ungracious to the comely amah, and I asked Larn- 
 pidgin. 
 
 " Ah Man mallied f to her," he grunted contempt- 
 uously, as if he considered that being married to a woman 
 was enough to account for any amount of ungraciousness. 
 
 The amah brought me some unbound numbers of the 
 Cornliill Magazine one day, with a note from my friend 
 entreating me to try and read the story, " Far from the 
 Madding Crowd," that ran through them. She said it 
 was by an anonymous writer, they thought George Eliot, 
 and would revive me. I took up the first number with- 
 out the slightest interest, merely to please her, and began 
 to read. I had not looked at a book for weeks, and found 
 it an effort at first, but by degrees all consciousness of 
 strained attention wore off insensibly. I ceased, as it 
 were, to read, and began to live in the book, and I found 
 something neither visible nor definable, but perfectly per- 
 ceptible to me, something vivifying, worth having, worth 
 
 * Woman servant. 
 \ Married. 
 
AH MAN. 231 
 
 using, and more, worth contemplating in another, a power 
 that wrought itself into feeling and claimed in me a hum- 
 ble kinship. 
 
 After the third number I sat up, and asked for strong 
 tea and bread and butter. Kext day I struggled on to a 
 couch. At the end of a week my brain was busy again, 
 and only the state of skin and bone to which I had been 
 reduced remained to show that I had ever been ill. 
 
 Ah Man watched my progress with simmering excite- 
 ment. When I sent for strong tea, he brought it himself, 
 quite fussily for him. Later he tried champagne and an 
 omelette as an experiment on his own account, and, find- 
 ing it eminently successful, he redoubled his efforts ; and 
 every time he came in he eyed the orange covers of Corn- 
 hill with undisguised interest. At last, under an elabo- 
 rate pretence of dusting, he managed to abstract one of 
 the numbers, and retired with it to the next room. From 
 where I was lying I could not see him through the door, 
 but there was a mirror on the wall beside me which reflect- 
 ed his subsequent proceedings accurately, to my no small 
 edification. Wben he thought himself out of sight, the 
 dusting-brush fell from his hand as if he had forgotten 
 that he held it, and he sat himself down in my special 
 easiest chair, drew a pair of huge spectacles with tortoise- 
 shell rims from his voluminous sleeve, adjusted them, and 
 then proceeded to turn the pages of the magazine over 
 conscientiously from beginning to end, looking up and 
 down each carefully as if in search of something, I could 
 see that the pictures excited a tragic interest in him. 
 He gazed into them close to, then held them off a little, 
 then raised them above the level of his eyes and looked 
 
232 AH MAN. 
 
 up to them, his face meanwhile intently set, and yet with 
 a show of excitement on it, and a glow such as samshu 
 brings to a Chinaman's cheeks ; it was as if he had at 
 last obtained something deeply desired, and was revelling 
 in the first ecstasy of possession. He was not left long 
 in peace to enjoy it, however, for Lam-pidgin was in the 
 neighbourhood, patiently waiting till he should be thor- 
 oughly absorbed, when he stole a march on him from 
 behind, tied a cracker to his pigtail, which was hanging 
 down over his back of the chair, lighted it from a taper 
 he had brought for the purpose, and retired with cautious 
 precipitation to a distant post of observation to await 
 events. When the cracker exploded, Ah Man bounced 
 out of the chair, and the episode ended, so far as I could 
 see, in hot pursuit of the evil one. 
 
 For the next few months the heat was excessive. By 
 day it beat down upon us from a sky bare as a lidless eye 
 of all solace of cloud, and at night it arose from the earth 
 and radiated upwards. It seemed each day as if we could 
 never endure another without a breath of fresh air, but 
 we lived on nevertheless in the hope that the monsoon 
 might change as by a miracle earlier than usual and re- 
 lieve us. The longing for fresh air became such a passion 
 at last that always when I slept I dreamt it was snowing. 
 One day in particular I remember, when the heat seemed 
 to come to a climax ; a dark day it was, too, with a low, 
 grey sky, but all the more oppressive on that account. 
 Even the servants, methodical as they were, did as little 
 as possible, and nobody else did anything but lounge about 
 the house, too hot to talk, too exhausted to eat, but de- 
 voured with thirst, and conscious all the time of the 
 
AH MAN. 233 
 
 effort to endure. It might have been supposed, to look 
 at us, that we were all a prey to a terrible suspense, so 
 obviously were we waiting for something. After dark 
 there was a slight decrease of temperature, and I took my 
 weary self to bed early, in the hope of finding some relief 
 in sleep. As usual I dreamt of ice and snow. I was on 
 a great ship, approaching an iceberg. We were in immi- 
 nent danger, and all was confusion. Officers and crew 
 were making frantic efforts to keep the ship clear of the 
 ice. She did not respond, however, but kept on her 
 course at a fearful rate, and I held my breath, waiting for 
 the collision. It came with a crash. The deck quivered. 
 I started up in bed. Ah Man was standing over me, 
 holding a little saucer of oil, in which burnt some slender 
 strips of pith for a wick. With the feeble light flickering 
 upon his sinister face, he looked grotesque as a bronze de- 
 mon, yet it never occurred to me to be afraid of him. 
 
 " What you wanshee, Ah Man ? " I demanded. 
 
 He held his head in a listening attitude significantly, 
 and, following his example, I became aware of a tumult 
 in the street, with cries and trampling as of excited 
 people. 
 
 "What is it?" I asked. 
 
 " Dat earth hab catchee too muchee bad inside," he 
 answered. 
 
 I could not think what he meant, but he had hardly 
 spoken before there came an appalling uproar ; it was as 
 if a mighty engine were crashing along under the house 
 and threatening to shake it down. Ko need to ask an- 
 other question, although it was my first experience of an 
 earthquake. Ah Man was shivering nervously. 
 
234: AH MAN. 
 
 " What shall I do ? " 
 
 " Get up," he answered laconically, and at the same 
 time he handed me some garments that were lying on a 
 chair, and held the light while 1 scrambled into them. 
 Ah Man never stood upon ceremony, but indeed I think 
 it is hardly necessary when there are earthquakes about. 
 
 A great stillness succeeded the shock, and it was evi- 
 dent to me as we hurried downstairs that only he and I 
 and my English maid were left in the house ; every one 
 else had deserted it. Out in the street, among the howling 
 Chinese, it was pandemonium let loose. The crowd was 
 making for an open space on the hillside, and thither Ah 
 Man piloted me safely. He found me a place among 
 some decent amahs, and then all at once he disappeared. 
 Two great shocks and some slighter ones succeeded each, 
 other during the night, and always after each the howls 
 of the people were awful. In the intervals they let off fire- 
 crackers and burnt joss-sticks* to propitiate the demons, 
 but looked by the fitful flare and flash of these like the 
 very worst of demons themselves. All eyes were turned 
 towards the city as the dawn broke, and it emerged, as it 
 were, out of darkness. There was little enough to see. 
 Some of the buildings had fallen from the perpendicular, 
 one here and there had collapsed altogether, great cracks 
 appeared on others, and roofs had fallen in ; but the 
 damage looked old and accustomed already in the first 
 glow of the sunrise. 
 
 I made my way back to our house alone. It was in 
 the part of the town which had suffered most, and was 
 
 * Joss is a god. 
 
All MAN. 235 
 
 cracked from top to bottom. I ascended the stairs nerv- 
 ously, and heard subdued voices muttering in my sitting- 
 room, one wall of which had fallen forward into the ve- 
 randah. There had been a heavy beam in the ceiling 
 above my writing-table, and this had coma dow^i. 
 Several servants were crowded together beside it, looking 
 at something lying on the floor, but when they saw me 
 they separated to let me see, and there, beneath the beam, 
 face downwards, grasping a bundle of papers in his hand, 
 but ghastly still, I recognised Ah Man. He had returned 
 to rescue my wretched writings. 
 
 Larn-pidgin was there too, deeply interested in the 
 details. When he saw me all overcome, he sidled up to 
 me and explained, but less in his habitual character of 
 chorus than in that of unctuous Christian convert, im- 
 proving the occasion. " He tinkee you all same joss," he 
 said, " dat Ah Man I He pay you joss-pidgin." * The 
 obvious moral, according to Larn-pidgin, being that it 
 would have been better for Ah Man had he kept himself 
 from idols. 
 
 * Worship. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
 
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 ceptable to the friends Miss Whitby has already made on this side of the Atlantic."— « 
 Philadelphia Bidletin. 
 
 "Very dainty, not only in mechanical workmanship but in matter and manner."— 
 Boston A dvertiser. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
D. AP PLETON cS^ CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 HANDY VOLUMES OF FICTION. 
 
 Each, i2mo, flexible cloth, with special design, 75 cents. 
 
 7^HE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. By 
 Gilbert Parker. 
 
 "To tell such a story convincingly a man must have what I call the rarest of 
 literary gifis — the power to condense. Of tlie good feeling and ho:ilthy wisdom of this 
 little tale others no d<nibt have spoken and will speak. But 1 have chosen this techni- 
 cal quality for praise, because in this 1 think Mr. Parker has made the furthest adva> ce 
 oil liis previous work. Indeed, in workmanship he seems to be improving faster than 
 any of tlie younger novelists." — A. T. Quiller-Couch, in the Loudon Spectator. 
 
 HTHE FAIENCE VIOLIN. By Champfleury. 
 -« Translated by W. H. Bishop. 
 
 " The style is happy throughout, the humorous parts being well calculated to bring 
 smiles, while we can hardly restrain our tears when the poor enthusiast goes to excesses 
 that have a touch of pathos." — Albany Tunes-Union. 
 
 n^E UE RICHES. By FRAN901S Copper 
 
 " Delicate as an apple blossom, with its limp cover of pale green and its stalk of 
 golden rod, is this little volume containing two stories by Frangois Coppee. The tales 
 are charmingly told, and their setting is an artistic delight." — 1 hiladelphia Bulletin. 
 
 "The author scarcely had a thought of sermonizing his readers, bui each of these 
 little stories presents a moral not easily overlooked, and whose iiilluence Imgcrs with 
 those who read them." — Baltimore A vierican. 
 
 A 
 
 TRUTHFUL WOMAN IN SOUTHERN 
 
 CALIF0RNI.4. By Kate Sanborn, author of "Adopting 
 
 an Abandoned Farm," etc. 
 
 " The veracious writer considers the pros of the 'glorious climate' of California, 
 and then she gives the cons. Decidedly the ayes have it. . . . The book is sprightly 
 and amiably entertaining. The descriptions have the true Sanborn touch ot vitality 
 and humor." — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 "Those who have read Miss Kate Sanborn's book entitled 'Adopting an Aban- 
 doned Farm' will look to her ne^v volume for vivacity and cheerful conmient. They 
 will not be disappointed, for the little book is readable from cover to cover." — 1 he 
 Outlook. 
 
 A 
 
 BORDER LEANDER. By Howard Seely, 
 
 author of " A Nymph of the West," etc. 
 
 " We confess to a great liking for the tale Mr. Seely tells. . . . There are pecks of 
 trouble ere the devoted lovers secHre the tying of their love-knot, and Mr. Seely de- 
 scribes them all with a Texan flavor that is refreshing." — N. Y. Times. 
 
 " A swift, gay, dramatic little talc, which at once takes captive the reader's 
 sympathy and holds it without difficulty to tbe end." — Charleston News and 
 Courier. 
 
 New York: U. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 GOOD BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS. 
 
 /I LONG THE FLORIDA REEF. By Charles 
 '^^ F. Holder, joint author of " Elements of Zoology." With 
 numerous Illustrations. 
 
 •' The adventures of this book do not belong to the realm of fiction. They are the 
 actual happenings in the life of several boys, the book would be just the one to give 
 to pupils to awaken an interest in natural history." — New York School Journal. 
 
 "The reader will be entertained with a series of adventures, but when he is done 
 he will find that he has learned a good deal about dancing cranes, corals, waterspouts, 
 sharks, talking fish, disappearing islands, hurricanes, turtles, and all sorts of wonders 
 of the earth and sea and air."— AVw York Suu. 
 
 " As excellent a juvenile for the large number of j'oung people who like natural 
 history mixed with their boyish stories as has appeared this season." — Chicago limes. 
 
 JN THE BO YHOOD OF LINCOLN. A Story of 
 •»■ the Black Hawk War and the Tunker Schoolmaster. By 
 Hezekiah Butterworth, author of " The Zigzag Books," 
 " The Log School-house on the Columbia," etc. With 12 Illus- 
 trations and colored Frontispiece. 
 " There is great fascination in these glimpses of Lincoln's early life, and the artist's 
 accompanying pictures are very clever and welcome." — Btocktyn Times. 
 
 "The author presents facts in a most attractive framework of fiction, and imbues 
 the whole with his peculiar humor. The illustrations are numerous and of more than 
 usual excellence." — New Haven Palladium. 
 
 7^HE BATTLE OF NEW YORK. By AVilliam 
 O. Stoddard. With 11 full-page Illustrations and colored 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 "No living WTiter surpasses William O. Stoddard in the art of constructing a story 
 to hold the interest of boy readers." — Philadelphia hiquirer. 
 
 " Young people who are interested in the ever thrilling storj' of the great rebellion 
 will find in this romance a wonderfully graphic pictuie of New York in war time." — 
 Boston Traveller. 
 
 " The description of these terrible days and more awful nights is very animated." — 
 New York Evening Post. 
 
 E 
 
 NGLISHMAN'S HAVEN'. By W. J. Gordon, 
 
 author of "The Captain-General," etc. With 8 full-page 
 Illustrations. 
 
 "The story of Louisbourg, which because of its position and the consequences of 
 its fall is justly held one of the most notable of the world's dead cities. The story is 
 admirably told." — Detroit Free Press. 
 
 " Full of exciting adventure, battle and siege. The hero is a brave j'oung English 
 boy who is with the soldiers at the fort." — Chicago Times. 
 
 " Casually the youthful reader will get much interesting historical information." — 
 San Francisco Bulletin. 
 
 Uniform binding, cloth, silver. i2mo. $1.50 each. 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 GOOD BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS. 
 
 OIV THE OLD FRONTIER. By William O. 
 Stoddard, author of " Crowded Out o' Croficld," "Little 
 Smoke," " The Battle of New York," etc. With lo full-page 
 Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "A capital story of life in the middle of the last century. . . . The characters in- 
 troduced really live and talk, and the story recommends itself not only to boys and 
 girls, but to their parents." — X. K. Times. 
 
 "An exciting narrative. Mr. Stoddard's stories of adventure are always of the 
 thrilling sort which boys like most to read. This tale, which relates to the last raids 
 of the Iroquois, is as stirring as the best of those which have come from his pen." — 
 Philadelphia JEvening BuUetitt. 
 
 nr^HE BO YS OF GREEN WA V CO UR T. A Story 
 J- of the Early Years of Washington. By Hezekiah Butter- 
 worth, author of "In the Boyhood of Lincoln," "The Log 
 School-house on the Columbia," " The Zigzag Books," etc. 
 With 10 full-page Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Mr. Butterworth has written an excellent book, and one that young people will find 
 
 delightful reading." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 " Skillfully combinin-^ fact and fiction, he has given us a story historically instruc- 
 tive and at the same time entertaining." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 CYOHN BOYD'S ADVENTURES. By Thomas 
 
 Jj W. Knox, author of " The Boy Travelers," etc. With 12 full- 
 page Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "Few modern authors write a more interesting story of travel and adventure for 
 boys than does Colonel Knox. He always seems to know just what the boys want to 
 know, and regulates his chapters accordin2;ly. . . . I'he whole story will hold the close 
 attention of the reader." — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 " The hero is alternately merchant, sailor, mano'-war's-man, privateer's man, 
 pirate, and Algerine slave. The bombardment of Tripoli is a brilliant chapter of a 
 narrative of heroic deeds." — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 P 
 
 A UL JONES. By Molly Elliot Seawell, au- 
 thor of "Little Jarvis," " Mid.shipman Paulding," etc. With 
 8 full-page Illustrations. " Young Heroes of Our Navy " 
 Series. i2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "A concise, clear sketch of the ranking officer of the Continental marine, who in 
 his day played a large part, and did it so well as to command the applause of every 
 patriotic American. To forget the name of Paul Jones would be an act of national 
 ingratitude." — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 " The writer is at home on the decks of the old-fashioned craft. The atmosphere is 
 thoroughly salty. Numerous illustrations depict the scenes of Paul Jones's hazardous 
 adventures. So good a sea story has not been written for a long time." — Philadel- 
 phia Ledger. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
D. APPLETON «& CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 "J^IIE STORY OF WASHINGTON. By Eliza- 
 
 •^ BETH Eggleston Seelye. Edited by Dr. Edward Eggleston. 
 With over lOO Illustrations by AUegra Eggleston. A new vol- 
 ume in the " Delights of History " Series, uniform with " The 
 Story of Columbus." i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 " One of the best accounts of the incidents of Washington's Hfe for young people." 
 ^Nevj York Observer. 
 
 "The W.ishington described is not that of the demigod or hero of the first half of 
 this century, but the man Washington, with his defects as well as his virtues, his unat- 
 tractive traits as well as his pleasing ones. . . . There is greater freedom from errors 
 than in more pretentious lives." — Chicago Tribune. 
 
 "The illustrations are numerous, and actually illustrate, including portraits and 
 views, with an occasional map and minor pictures suggestive of the habits and customs 
 of the period. It is altogether an attractive and useful book, and one that should find 
 many readers among American boys and girls." — Philadelphia Titues. 
 
 " A good piece of literary work presented in an attractive shape." — A^ew York 
 Tribune. 
 
 " Will be read with interest by young and old. It is told with good taste and ac- 
 curacy, and if the first President loses some of his mythical goodness in this story, the 
 real greatness of his natural character stands out distinctly, and his example will be all 
 the more helpful to the boys and girls of this generation." — Neiv York Churchman. 
 
 "The book is just what has been needed, the story of the life of Washington, as 
 well as of his public career, written in a manner so interesting that one who begins 
 it will finish, and so told that it will leave not the memory of a few trivial anecdotes by 
 which to measure the man, but a just and complete estimate of him. The illustrations 
 are so excellent as to double the value of the book as it would be without them." — 
 Chicago T lines. 
 
 n^HE STORY OF COLUMBUS. By Elizabeth 
 
 J- Eggleston Seelye. Edited by Dr. Edward Eggleston. With 
 100 Illustrations by Allegra Eggleston. " Delights of History " 
 Series. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 " A brief, popular, interesting, and yet critical volume, just such as we should wish 
 to place in the hands of a young reader. The authors of this volume have done their 
 best to keep it on a high plane of accuracy and conscientious work without losing sight 
 of their readers." — Neiv York hidepettdent. 
 
 " In some respects altogether the best book that the Columbus year has brought 
 out." — Rochester Post-Express. 
 
 "A simple story told in a natural fashion, and will be foimd far more interesting 
 than many of the more ambitious works on a similar theme."— iV^w I'ork Jouj-nal 0/ 
 Commerce . 
 
 " This is no ordinary work. It is pre-eminently a work of the present time and of 
 the future as weW."— Boston Traveller. 
 
 " Mrs. Seelye's book is pleasing in its general effect, and reveals the results of 
 painstaking and conscientious study." — New \'ork Tribune. 
 
 " A very just account is given of Columbus, his failings being neither concealed nor 
 magnified, but his real greatness being made plain." — Neiu York Examiner. 
 
 " The illustrations are particularly well chosen and neatly executed, and they add 
 to the general excellence of the volume." — Neiv York Times. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3. & 5 Bond Street. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 nrHE COUNTRY SCHOOL IN NEW ENG- 
 
 J- LAND. By Clifton Johnson. With 60 Illustrations from 
 Photographs and Drawings made by the Author. Square 8vo. 
 Cloth, gilt edges, $2.50. 
 
 " An admirable undertaking carried out in an admirable way. . . . Mr. Johnson's 
 descriptions are vivid and lifelike and are full of humor, and the illustrations, mostly 
 after photographs, give a solid effect of realism to the whole work, and are superbly re- 
 produced. . . . The definitions at the close of this volume are very, very funny, and yet 
 they are not stupid; they are usually the result of deficient logic." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 *' A charmingly written account of the rural schools in this section of the country. 
 It speaks of the old-fashioned school days of the early quarter of this century, of the 
 mid century schools, of the country school of to-day, and of how scholars think and 
 write. The style is animated and picturesque. ... It is handsomely printed, and is 
 interesting from its pretty cover to its very last page." — Boston Saturday Evening 
 Gazette. 
 
 " A unique piece of book-making that deserves to be popular. . . . Prettily and 
 serviceably bound, and well illustrated." — T/ie Ckurckman. 
 
 " The readers who turn the leaves of this handsome book will unite in saying the 
 author has 'been there.' It is no fancy sketch, but text and illustrations are both a 
 reality." — Chiccigo Inter- Ocean. 
 
 "No one who is familiar with the little red schoolhouse can look at these pictures 
 and read these chapters without having the mind recall the boyhood experiences, and 
 the memory is pretty sure to be a pleas.int one." — Chicago Times. 
 
 " A superlily prepared volume, which by its reading matter and its beautiful illustra- 
 tions, so natural and finished, pleasantly and profitably recall memories and associa- 
 tions connected with the very foundations of our national greatness." — Netv York 
 Observer. 
 
 " It is a point not yet decided whether the text or illustrations of this ' Country 
 School ' give the most pleasure. Both are original, and removed from the beaten track 
 of conventionality." — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 " One of the finest and most fitting of all the Chnstmas books likely to appear." — 
 Hart/ord Titnes. 
 
 y^HE BRONTES IN IRELAND. By Dr. William 
 
 -^ Wright. With Portraits and numerous Illustrations. i2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "A striking contribution to biographical literature and a significant confirmation of 
 the doctrine of hereditary genius his been made by Dr. William Wright in his wonder- 
 fully entertaining narrative. . . . The book is admirably written, and is in itself as, 
 interesting as a romance. It has a number of valu;^ble illustrations, plans, etc., and 
 will be of the most intense fascination to all who have read and thrilled over 'Jane 
 Eyre' and 'Shirley,' or puzzled over the mystery of the wild and erratic Branwell." — 
 Boston Beacon. 
 
 "Dr. Wright has ta'thfully traced the current of Bronte life and thought back to 
 the hidden sources. The biography has some surprises in store for the re.ider. It is 
 fully illustrated, and presents a varied and romantic talc without a touch of the com. 
 monplace. " — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 " One of the most curious pages which have lately been added to literarj' history*." 
 — Boston Traveller. 
 
 " A new and thrilling chapter in the history of the Bronte sisters." — Boston Ad, 
 vertiser. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
s 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 HAND-BOOKS OF SOCIAL USAGES. 
 
 OC/AL ETIQUETTE OE NEW YORK. Re- 
 written and enlarged. iSmo. Cloth, gilt, $i.oo. 
 
 Special pains have been taken to make this work represent accurately 
 existing customs in New York society. The subjects treated are of visiting 
 and visiting-cards, giving and attending balls, receptions, dinners, etc., 
 debuts, chaperons, weddings, opera and theatre parties, costumes and cus- 
 toms, addresses and signatures, and funeral customs, covering so far as 
 practicable all social usages. 
 
 T\ON'T ; or, Directions for avoiding Improprieties in 
 J--^ Conduct and Common Errors of Speech. By Censor. Parch- 
 ment-Paper Edition^ square iSmo, 30 cents. Vest-Pocket Edi- 
 tion^ cloth, flexible, gilt edges, red lines, 30 cents. Botidoir 
 Edition (with a new chapter designed for young people), cloth, 
 gilt, 30 cents. 130th thousand. 
 
 "Don't" deals with manners at the table, in the drawing-room, and in 
 public, with taste in dress, with personal habits, with common raistaJces in 
 various situations in life, and with ordinary errors of speech. 
 
 TJniAT TO DO. A Companion to "Don't." By 
 
 ^^ Mrs. Oliver Bell Bunce. Small i8mo, cloth, gilt, uniform 
 
 with Boudoir Edition of '* Don't," 30 cents. 
 
 A dainty little book, containing helpful and practical explanations of 
 social usages and rules. It tells the reader how to entertain and how to be 
 entertained, and sets forth the etiquette of engagements and marriages, in- 
 troductions and calls. 
 
 '' f^OOD EORW IN ENGLAND. By An 
 
 >->^ American, resident in the United Kingdom. i2mo. Cloth, 
 $1.50. 
 
 "The raison d'Stre of this book is to provide Americans— and especially those 
 visiting England — with a concise, comprehensive, and comprehensible hand-book 
 which will give them all necessary information respecting 'how things are' in Eng- 
 land. While it deals w, ith subjects connected with all ranks and classes, it is particularly 
 intended to be an exhibit and explanation of the ways, habits, customs, and usages of 
 what is known in England as 'high life.' " — From the Preface. 
 
 TTINTS ABOUT MEN'S DRESS: Right Prin- 
 
 //-t ciples Economically Applied. By a New York Clubman. 
 
 i8mo. Parchment-paper, 30 cents. 
 
 A useful manual, especially for young men desirous of dressing eco- 
 nomically and yet according to the canons of good tctste. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON ^,,JC0.. i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
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