TWO SINNERS
 
 TWO SINNERS 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. DAVID G. RITCHIE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THB HUMAN CRY," "MAN AND THE CASSOCK, 
 "THE TRUTHFUL LIAR," ETC. 
 
 SECOND IMPRESSION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. DUTTON fcf COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 WILLIAM CLOWIS AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 LONDON AND BECCLE8, ENGLAND.
 
 TWO SINNERS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 CLOSE by the railings of the Brighton Parade, 
 at the unfashionable end near Sussex Square, 
 Maud Monckton stood watching the sea and 
 sky. All that February afternoon the sun had 
 been slipping very slowly down an unclouded 
 blue sky till at last it reached the blue sea-line. 
 Then a strange thing happened ! 
 
 It did actually seem to touch the horizon 
 line, and the red globe suddenly bulged out on 
 either side as if it was no real planet, but some 
 monstrous ball of crimson blood hanging in 
 our atmosphere, actually touching the waters 
 of our Channel ; an awful portent of some 
 unexpected catastrophe. 
 
 Maud looked on amazed by the apparition. 
 As instantaneously as thought flashes into being, 
 something within this ominous ball, something, 
 the heart of it its nucleus moved slowly 
 through its flaming bulging skirts and dis- 
 appeared into the void, leaving behind it on 
 the horizon only the empty shallow crimson 
 husk, the wreck of the spectator's own illusion. 
 
 Maud still gazed motionless, and in another 
 
 B 
 
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 2 TWO SINNERS 
 
 moment this splendid husk shrank, collapsed into 
 a narrow streak of fire, glittered, and was gone, 
 gone both Truth and Illusion. 
 
 The spell was over, Maud moved her eyes 
 at last slowly over the sky and sea. The whole 
 sky glowed with what seemed to the girl's excited 
 imagination a deep troubled resignation. The 
 sea lay before her like a flat mucous expanse of 
 restless thoughts giving expression to themselves 
 in shimmering opalescence. 
 
 It was profoundly melancholy, that ending 
 to a sunny winter day ; though why it was 
 melancholy she could not tell. She turned and 
 looked across the road to the houses. 
 
 A light flashed into a room opposite, and 
 looked out wistfully for a second, like a human 
 eye. Then a blind came down like an eyelid 
 and concealed it. Another light sprang into 
 being at another window, and yet another, 
 only to be extinguished by some unseen hand. 
 The traffic in the road was dwindling, sounds 
 were striking finely, sharply, on Maud's ears 
 through the frosty air. 
 
 She turned back once more to the sea. The 
 wonderful restless colour was fading out of it, 
 its troubled movements were stilled; physical 
 darkness was overcoming them, and wrapping 
 them round with the oblivion of the night. 
 Maud shivered ! It was very cold ! She crossed 
 the road and stood for a moment at the house 
 opposite, where she lodged with her two sisters. 
 Then she turned and walked westwards, keeping 
 h.er eyes on the twinkling lights that ran out
 
 TWO SINNERS 3 
 
 to the distant pier-head : thinking as she walked. 
 Her face with its small, handsome and rather 
 arrogant features, half hidden by her veil, were 
 full of perplexity, dislike of her present life, 
 doubt as to whether the step she was about 
 to take was justifiable. That step was 
 marriage. 
 
 She had concealed in her muff a letter which, 
 if posted, would settle her future decisively. 
 The letter in her muff was addressed to : " Major 
 Karnes, Princes Hotel, Hove." 
 
 It was an answer to a letter from him, not 
 so badly expressed considering that he must 
 have written many love-letters during the twenty 
 years of his adolescence, and must have exhausted 
 some of the usual forms of speech. He said that 
 he loved her, as he had never expected to be 
 able to love any human being. That, of course, 
 was not an unusual preliminary. Then he said 
 he knew that he had faults. That sentence 
 Maud resented. Of course he had faults ! She 
 was going to correct them for him ! No ; what 
 he really meant was to apologise for not being 
 young. That fault could never be corrected, 
 alas ! 
 
 He said that his wealth had acquired a new 
 value in his eyes because it would enable him to 
 give her a really good time. Now this ex- 
 pression a " really good time " jarred on her 
 pride. It was clear to Maud that he considered 
 that, although on the one side he had faults, 
 yet on her side she was having far from a " good 
 time " with her two sisters in seaside lodgings.
 
 4 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Major Kames was pluming himself on his power 
 to give her what she could not get without him 
 him with all his faults. 
 
 Now Maud longed for a " really good time," 
 but she wanted it without the unnecessary 
 obligation of being grateful to anybody for it 
 because that hurt the "pride " of which we have 
 already spoken. So when she had sat down in 
 her cold little bedroom looking over dismal 
 backs, she had taken pen in hand and had 
 written to Major Kames in lofty style, as if his 
 wealth was on the whole a drawback to their 
 marriage, and she accepted him in spite of it. 
 Having written the letter, the only question 
 was, should she post it ? She had been walking 
 on the parade for nearly three-quarters of an 
 hour and was still racked with uncertainty as 
 to whether she disliked her present life so keenly 
 that to escape it she was willing to marry Major 
 Kames. 
 
 So, his real faults were that he was forty, 
 
 and that he was not exactly vulgar but ! 
 
 He was one of those men whose presence in a 
 room can never be ignored. His ideas came to 
 him spasmodically, and were pronounced in 
 forcible language. People whose minds moved 
 slowly considered him very clever and a little 
 confusing ; but he made them feel that " some- 
 thing was going on." The air stirred when he 
 was there. 
 
 But if Kames had faults, he had also in- 
 exhaustible good humour, and a capacity for 
 keeping in order the wealth he had inherited.
 
 TWO SINNERS 5 
 
 Are not these two qualities priceless in a 
 husband ? 
 
 So, what should Maud do ? Maud looked 
 little older than twenty- three, but she was really 
 twenty-eight, perilously near twenty-nine. Time 
 was flying. 
 
 Time had already flown away with her sister 
 Ursula. Poor darling Ursula with her high- 
 bridged nose and eyeglasses, her face worn into 
 rather rigid lines, and her complexion dulled 
 by her forty years of careful responsibility and 
 her fight against poverty. 
 
 Time had only begun with Stella, their half- 
 sister. Stella was twenty-one, and she had 
 always attracted men. Marriage was certain 
 for her. She had, indeed, nearly captured Major 
 Kames ; at least she had discovered him at 
 a friend's house, she had shaken her turquoise 
 earrings at him, had monopolised him, and 
 then in an unlucky moment had tried the effect 
 of singing to him in her high soprano, he playing 
 her accompaniment. When that performance 
 was over Major Kames had closed the piano 
 rather a rude thing to do and from that moment 
 Stella observed what she ought to have seen 
 before, that the wealthy and somewhat flashy 
 warrior was really interested in Maud. 
 
 It had taken Stella some few days to recover 
 from the shock, and when she did recover she 
 fled from the scene of her defeat to their 
 aunt, Lady Dorothy Broughton. From Lady 
 Dorothy's home in Brown Street she had written 
 a letter to Ursula, hinting mysteriously that she
 
 6 TWO SINNERS 
 
 thought younger sisters, especially half-sisters, 
 were sometimes in the way. 
 
 But the second letter she had written had 
 contained no pessimistic remarks, it had been 
 cheerful and affectionate. She had returned 
 home that very afternoon in February of which 
 we speak, and her blue eyes (that matched the 
 earrings) looking enigmatic. 
 
 Maud having written, but not yet having 
 posted, the letter to Major Kames, wondered 
 hoped that Stella had forgiven her. 
 
 The letter was not yet posted. It lay in 
 Maud's muff, and the more Maud thought about 
 it the more difficult it was to decide whether it 
 should be posted at all. 
 
 One thing only was absolutely clear to her. 
 She hated Brighton, and every day it became 
 more likely that Ursula would discover a house 
 that would be cheap enough for them to take 
 and settle in. Maud could picture the sort of 
 house in a side street, overlooking other small 
 houses. There would certainly be euonymus 
 bushes in front and behind, and a square of 
 dank grass called by the house-agent a garden. 
 They would have one maid, of that non-humorous 
 kind, who, being unable to do anything, under- 
 takes to do everything. 
 
 Maud could picture Ursula, counting the 
 pence, almost counting the coals. She would, 
 if any one could, make the small income left to 
 her unconditionally by their father, General 
 Monckton, go as far as possible ; her aim being 
 always to let Maud and Stella have their own
 
 pensions entirely for their clothes. Maud could 
 imagine Ursula sitting by the dining-room table, 
 working the sewing-machine vigorously, oblivious 
 of the dreariness of their surroundings, happy in 
 making clothes for Stella. Maud could imagine 
 Stella, who, in spite of both sisters' help and 
 constant gentle admonitions, was always shabby 
 under her finery she could imagine Stella 
 talking about the distinguished musical career 
 that she ought to find waiting for her, and mean- 
 while making the cramped house still more 
 cramped by evolving, Heaven knows how, an 
 inexplicable confusion out of order, wherever 
 she moved. It was Stella's habit to sleep in her 
 turquoise earrings ; the only way to be sure of not 
 losing them. 
 
 Maud could imagine that " home " of theirs. 
 To settle down in such surroundings seemed like 
 giving up youth, hope, romance. Maud had 
 walked some little distance along the house side 
 of the parade, and was opposite a pillar-box. 
 She had only to put the letter to Major Kames 
 into that box, and she would have Orpenden 
 House in Surrey as her home only and there 
 was the point only with Major Kames as her 
 husband. 
 
 What had Maud done that she should have 
 found no man to love her but Major Kames ? 
 Should she brave the future, share Ursula's 
 home and poverty, and try to make the best 
 of it ? 
 
 Maud fingered the letter in her muff. Why 
 had she not written a letter of refusal and put
 
 8 TWO SINNERS 
 
 both in her muff, so that she could post one or 
 the other ? She had only written one letter 
 accepting Major Kames. That looked as if, 
 down within the depths of her heart, she meant 
 to accept him, and all these arguments were only 
 meant to silence the conscience that clamoured 
 for some justifiable course of action, and urged 
 that the moral nature must be satisfied. 
 
 Maud drew out the letter. The envelope was 
 beginning to get a little bent. No wonder ! 
 Would it be a great shock to Ursula if she 
 married Major Kames ? Had Ursula any sus- 
 picions that she meant to accept Major Kames ? 
 Ursula had behaved all through as if there could 
 be no question of anything serious between her 
 and Major Kames. Maud had always known, 
 but she had refused to recognise the truth till 
 this moment when it rushed peremptorily through 
 her mind, that Ursula had taken for granted 
 that Maud would never dream of marrying 
 Major Kames ! And yet in the first few days 
 of their acquaintance with him, when Stella 
 monopolised him and raved about him, Ursula 
 had not disapproved she had even allowed that 
 he was wonderfully genial. But when Kames 
 had shown his cards, and had openly paid 
 attention to Maud, Ursula had observed a 
 sudden reticence in her behaviour towards 
 him. Was it because she thought him a 
 worldling ? 
 
 The hot blood rushed to Maud's head as she 
 stood, letter in hand, by the pillar-box. Ursula 
 had always expected more of her than of Stella
 
 TWO SINNERS 9 
 
 more self-control, more refinement. Was that 
 fair ? 
 
 General Monckton's second marriage had 
 been with a charming, emotional, weak little 
 woman who had died at Stella's birth. Ursula 
 had brought the child up from its cradle, taking 
 for granted, somehow, that she would not be a 
 real Monckton in character, and must have 
 allowances made for that fact. So Stella might 
 marry a worldling and be excused, but Maud 
 might not. Was that fair ? 
 
 Maud put the letter back in her muff. She 
 must not stand still in the growing dusk, attract- 
 ing attention to herself she must walk on. She 
 would walk a little and then come back again 
 and post the letter. 
 
 Now, what exactly was wrong with Major 
 Kames ? She would think it over carefully. 
 His father had been a successful tradesman. 
 Very well. Many of our peers are only too glad 
 to marry into tradesmen's families. Kames had 
 left the Army. Yes, but it was necessary, his 
 property needed looking after ; there was nothing 
 improper in that. Then he did most things 
 well, business matters especially ; he was a good 
 sportsman, expert at cards ; he was a bit of a 
 real musician. All this was surely in his favour. 
 Then he was good-natured to the very core. 
 Yes yes but he was not " serious," and he 
 had not one scrap of what is called " spiritual " 
 in him. Maud, in imagination, as she walked 
 along, could almost hear him, in his low, rapid 
 voice, saying, " I know what you mean by
 
 10 TWO SINNERS 
 
 emotional, or what you mean by intellectual, but 
 what the deuce do you mean by spiritual ? " 
 
 Major Kaines called himself an " on the whole 
 Agnostic," but Maud suspected that a practical 
 and personal observation of human life had led 
 him to believe that there was no Deity super- 
 intending the march of the universe. Yes, but 
 Maud's father, General Monckton, had been 
 actually anti-religious, while, on the other hand, 
 Major Kaines had no objection to going to church 
 on occasions. For instance, Maud was certain 
 that he would want to be married by an Anglican 
 priest, and that he would ridicule the idea of a 
 purely secular ceremonial in a registry office, 
 ]ust as he woidd object to going into a vegetarian 
 restaurant. 
 
 The lighted pier and the long line of lamp- 
 posts were growing more and more sharp and 
 starlike though the night was not dark. 
 
 As she walked, a man passed her leading a 
 black greyhound on a leash, and close behind, 
 though loose, trotted a second greyhound exactly 
 like the first. The pair wore little tan coats, 
 both had their long thin faces meekly bent, their 
 tails curled humbly under their slender bodies, 
 and they moved with a curiously light elastic 
 step as if scarcely needing to touch the pavement, 
 all their amazing power of swiftness subdued to 
 lowly obedience. 
 
 They were so gentle and so disciplined that 
 Maud strained her eyes after them sympatheti- 
 cally. How much happier, how much simpler. 
 life would be if, like the dog, one could find some
 
 TWO SINNERS 11 
 
 higher being visible to the eight and touch, 
 whose will one could trust absolutely ! As it 
 was, God and immortality were uncertain ; 
 perhaps all our moral struggles might end in 
 nothing ; perhaps those who enjoyed this life 
 to the full were really the wisest ? 
 
 As she walked, looking into the dusk as far 
 as her sight would reach, she suddenly became 
 aware of a figure coming towards her. It was 
 impossible to mistake that walk. The walk 
 was that of high and deliberate respectability. 
 It was Ursula. She had just come out of St. 
 Cuthbert's from one of Father Fitzherbert's 
 Lenten addresses. The figure became more 
 distinct. Now Maud could see that it was tall 
 and angular. She could see the familiar black 
 leather bag in which Ursula carried a book of 
 devotions, her purse, and sundry keys. Ursula 
 had never fallen under her father's influence ; 
 she was of a type peculiar to England, a type that 
 forms the very backbone of the race, self-con- 
 trolled in every act and thought, religious, 
 austerely and unattractively dressed. 
 
 Should Maud turn and fly, and fling her letter 
 into the pillar-box as she passed it ? There 
 was time, for Ursula was short-sighted. 
 
 No, to fly from Ursula would be a silly thing 
 a sort of cowardice. If Maud married Major 
 Kames, well, she would marry him, and brave it 
 out. She would post the letter at that pillar- 
 box ; she would slip it in before Ursula's very 
 eyes, though she would not explain, say to whom 
 it was addressed, just then not just immediately.
 
 12 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " How delightful of you to come to meet me ! " 
 said Ursula, now face to face with her sister. 
 
 Maud turned without answering, for she felt 
 a sudden lump in her throat. She passed her 
 arm through her sister's. 
 
 " How light it is ! the moon must have risen," 
 said Ursula. 
 
 " I've been watching the sunset," said Maud, 
 " while you've been listening to the exciting 
 oratory of Father Fitzherbert." 
 
 " He talks very quietly," said Ursula. " I 
 wish you could come with me next Friday." 
 
 " I would, dear, only I can't," said Maud ; 
 " I can't go and add one more to the crowd of 
 women who listen to him and worship. I don't 
 like these spiritual men, they get too much 
 flattery from women." She spoke with a certain 
 bitterness, because the thought of Major Kames 
 lay behind the word " spiritual." " I'm quite 
 sure that all of them except you would give 
 anything to drag him down to the level of a 
 sacerdotal flirtation." 
 
 " Poor things ! " murmured Ursula. " Maud, 
 do you know I went to look at a house before 
 going into church ! " 
 
 Maud's heart began to beat swiftly. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " did you ? " 
 
 " A little house, next the corner one in 
 Athelstane Place. It faces west, and it is three 
 minutes from St. Cuthbert's." 
 
 " Oh," said Maud. 
 
 " And the rent what do you think ? " 
 
 " I really can't guess," said Maud.
 
 TWO SINNERS 13 
 
 " Thirty-five pounds," said Ursula, but her 
 voice had changed it was tentative, she saw 
 that something was wrong. 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Maud " thirty-five 
 pounds ! " 
 
 " A little garden behind," said Ursula 
 slowly. 
 
 " Euonymus bushes in front ? " said Maud 
 desperately. 
 
 " No, behind," said Ursula. 
 
 " And what in front ? " 
 
 " Nothing in front except an iron paling." 
 
 " Oh," said Maud. 
 
 There came a break in the line of the parade 
 and a side street. A large motor-brougham was 
 turning off the parade into the side street, so 
 the sisters had to pause for a moment at the edge 
 of the curb, while it passed them. 
 
 The moon had suddenly appeared above the 
 roof of the houses, and its broad light flooded 
 the parade and the sea. The tide was going 
 down, and some low rocks were visible at the 
 surface of the water. The two sisters looked 
 across the road at the shimmering silver of the 
 sea and these black shining patches, and, as 
 they did so, they could see clearly a man's figure 
 striding along by the parade railings. Maud 
 shrank into herself. Ursula glanced away. Here 
 was the very man who was troubling both their 
 thoughts. It was Major Kames ! His soft 
 felt hat was tilted over his eyes. In spite of the 
 training of his youth, he slouched a little. 
 
 He had seen them and raised his hat, and for
 
 14 TWO SINNERS 
 
 the flash of a moment they saw his strong, fleshy 
 features and black hair. Maud thought she 
 saw his brown, staring eyes. Something in his 
 presence, though so far off, made her shiver. 
 She felt Ursula's arm stiffen slightly. He walked 
 on, and the two sisters crossed the road to the 
 opposite pavement. Here stood the pillar-box. 
 Maud had now decided that she would pass it 
 without posting her letter. 
 
 " We could get the house at the quarter- 
 that is, in six or seven weeks' time," said Ursula 
 with a slight break in her voice. " It would 
 be a good thing to settle as quickly as we can, 
 because our lodgings are expensive, and I really 
 need all the money I can save for our start. 
 Even though we have enough furniture to more 
 than fill the house, there are a hundred small 
 expenses carpets altering and so on." 
 
 " I've got a letter to post," interrupted Maud. 
 " I mean " 
 
 She almost stumbled against Ursula as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " I don't know that it matters much," she 
 said. " Let's see what is the next delivery ? 
 Six o'clock ? It's past that already." 
 
 Ursula had stopped and was looking at her 
 sister. Maud was fumbling with a letter at the 
 box opening, as if she couldn't find it. She was 
 rapidly making up her mind now, for the last 
 time. If she accepted Major Kames she would 
 soon find out whether he was endurable, and if 
 he proved unendurable she could break off the 
 engagement. It would be quite fair, for how on
 
 TWO SINNERS 15 
 
 earth is one to tell beforehand ? Now, that was 
 her decision it was final ! 
 
 She slipped the letter in, and heard it drop 
 to the bottom of the box. 
 
 It was done ! 
 
 She went back to Ursula and took her arm 
 again ; her cheeks burned like fire, and her feet 
 moved feverishly. Ursula said no more about 
 the little house at thirty-five pounds a year ! 
 She was silent, till at last she said : 
 
 " You never met Aunt Dorothy's nephew 
 by marriage, Dr. George Broughton, Maud ? " 
 
 Ursula's voice sounded as though she was 
 forcing herself to speak. 
 
 " No," said Maud, " not that I remember." 
 
 " Stella met him at Aunt Dorothy's. He was 
 at Cambridge ; he's now got some science post 
 in London. He's here, at Brighton, just for 
 one night, I believe, and Stella has asked him 
 to come to see us this evening." 
 
 The two women walked on together in silence. 
 
 So this explained Stella's enigmatic look 
 when she arrived ! Had she been travelling 
 clown with Dr. George Broughton ? Had Stella 
 possibly consoled herself for the loss of Major 
 Kames ? " Men, men, men, always men," sighed 
 Maud. And what of Ursula, for whom no man 
 cared ? 
 
 They walked into their lodgings, up the narrow 
 stairs, and went into their sitting-room. The 
 lights were not turned on. Stella was there in a 
 low chair by the fire, smoking a cigarette. 
 Although she found punctuality impossible, and
 
 16 TWO SINNERS 
 
 also unnecessary, she was already dressed for 
 the evening, and yet it was not half-past six ! 
 Her black hair was very carefully arranged with 
 elaborate combs, she was wearing her blue satin 
 dress, her blue earrings of course, and she was 
 stretching out a pair of very smart shoes to the 
 blaze. Shadows flickered over Stella's face, 
 dimming its clear freshness ; the dimples in her 
 cheeks deepened a little as she turned her head 
 and looked at her step-sisters. 
 
 '* You look as if you'd both been converted," 
 she remarked, as she blew a puff of smoke into 
 the air. 
 
 Maud took off her gloves and veil with 
 deliberate care. She had now a part to play, 
 and she must control her emotions. 
 
 " So we look like that, do we ? " she replied. 
 She glanced into the mirror over the mantelpiece. 
 She saw there in the uncertain moving light and 
 darkness her own face, the small, well-cut, proud 
 features, clear, pale complexion, hair and eyes 
 a light brown. She could see the unusual flush 
 on her cheeks, and she put up both her hands to 
 them. 
 
 " I haven't been to hear Father Fitzherbert," 
 she said. As she spoke she turned and looked at 
 Ursula, who had remained standing behind her, 
 silent. 
 
 Was it only the firelight that gave her sister's 
 face that grey look, and brought out all the lines 
 in her face ? 
 
 " Have you been listening to that man all 
 this afternoon, poor dear ? " asked Stella, looking
 
 TWO SINNERS 17 
 
 first at Ursula and then at her cigarette-end 
 attentively. 
 
 Maud moved away to the door. 
 
 " No," said Ursula, " I was looking at a 
 house first." 
 
 " A house ! " said Stella. ' Yes, of course." 
 She stared into the fire and began smoking again, 
 and Maud opened the door and went out.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 As soon as dinner was over, Maud slipped away 
 and went to her room. The conversation had 
 been mostly in Stella's hands. She had told her 
 rather silent half-sisters the latest news about 
 their Aunt Dorothy and her dog the dog that 
 had partially consoled her after the death of her 
 husband, Mr. Broughton ; the dog that every- 
 body except Lady Dorothy thought an intolerable 
 nuisance. 
 
 Maud had laughed a good deal, and now she 
 was thankful that dinner was over. But there 
 was still the evening to get through and George 
 Broughton to meet, and it flashed across her 
 mind that if Major Kames got her letter by the 
 nine o'clock post there was nothing to prevent 
 his coming at ten, and then Maud's hands 
 grew as cold as ice. 
 
 Almost unconsciously through her father's 
 influence, Maud had very early in life dropped 
 the old-fashioned optimism of orthodox Christi- 
 anity, which pictures this life as a racecourse, 
 and the future life as a goal where a prize awaits 
 each human soul if it cares to strive for it. 
 Almost without mental effort she had adopted 
 the more fashionable optimism of the present 
 day the belief that we are running, not a race, 
 but a helter-skelter, merely for the sake of
 
 TWO SINNERS 19 
 
 running, and because evolution has provided 
 us with legs. 
 
 While she was still in the buoyancy of her 
 youth she considered her sister Ursula's desire 
 for personal immortality an unnecessary weak- 
 ness. Maud thought it strange and more sensible 
 for Humanity to want nothing better than to 
 run from somewhere to nowhere in particular. 
 Why shouldn't people enjoy climbing a ladder 
 that has a sort of a kind of a bottom, but no 
 top ? It showed a proper sort of courage ! 
 
 Any doubt as to the satisfactoriness of this 
 form of exercise she called pessimism, for was 
 not mere living a hazy sunshine of joyful possi- 
 bilities ? She called Ursula playfully, 'The 
 Pessimist." But as time went on this misty 
 youthful happiness melted away, and left her 
 face to face with a hard bare fact that she had 
 not anticipated her girlhood had gone for ever. 
 What had that to do with " Life " ? why did 
 that matter ? It did matter, horribly. At 
 every step of the past she had been attended 
 by a kind of sympathetic interest that the world 
 takes in a pretty unmarried girl. In a year or 
 two, the world would pass her by with that 
 peculiar sort of indifference that is meted out to 
 the " superfluous woman." 
 
 Why should she mind that ? Why should 
 people mind being ignored \ It doesn't prevent 
 them from running from " somewhere to nowhere 
 in particular." 
 
 When she had to tell Ursula of her engage- 
 ment, could she say that she had accepted Major
 
 20 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Kames in order to escape from a haunting fear 
 of dying husbandless and childless ? In other 
 words, that the optimism she had boasted of 
 did not go very deep ? 
 
 Could she confess this to any man or woman ? 
 Certainly not, and least of all could she confess 
 it to Ursula, because it would wound her to the 
 heart. Maud's thoughts flashed over the lives 
 of the unmarried women she knew ; almost all, 
 except Ursula's, seemed to her obviously cramped 
 by the repression of the great human emotions. 
 Ursula believed that a Father in Heaven watched 
 over her that gave her courage. 
 
 Why could not Maud beheve that ? Maud 
 paced up and down her room : all that she could 
 believe was that Man has emerged painfully from 
 an unknown past, and has found a sinister 
 welcome awaiting him : 
 
 " Time with a gift of tears ! 
 Grief with a glass that ran '* 
 
 Maud heard the front-door bell ring. Her 
 heart stood still. It could not be Major Kames ! 
 Her letter could not have reached him yet, and 
 he would not dare to call until he knew what that 
 letter contained. She could hear a light step 
 on the stairs and a voice, very different from 
 Major Kames's, say to the maid: "Mr. Brough- 
 ton." He must be tall and interesting-looking, 
 with that voice. 
 
 She went to the mirror and looked at herself. 
 Tears that had tried to come she had beaten 
 back, her eyes were dry, her cheeks as flushed
 
 TWO SINNERS 21 
 
 as they had been before dinner. She felt nervous 
 and excited. Before going into the sitting-room 
 should she ring the bell and tell the maid not to 
 admit Major Kames if he called ? That would 
 be a strange way of treating the man you have 
 just promised to accept as your husband ! She 
 sat down at a little table and scribbled off a 
 note : 
 
 " DEAR MAJOR KAMES, 
 
 " I have not told my sisters yet of our 
 engagement. Will you come to-morrow and 
 see me ? 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 "MAUD MONCKTON." 
 
 Was " Yours ever " the proper thing to 
 write ? It certainly was not too cordial. " Yours 
 affectionately " would sound silly and wasn't 
 true. No doubt people in love were able to 
 invent something suitable. ' Yours ever " must 
 stand. It wasn't actually a lie she was " Yours 
 ever " of a sort. 
 
 She folded up the note and addressed it. 
 Then she rang the bell and gave the letter to the 
 maid and told her to give it to Major Kames if 
 he called. Now she was safe till to-morrow. 
 
 Now she would go and see what this cousin 
 of theirs was like. He was the nearest approach 
 to a cousin she and her sisters had : would she 
 when she saw him really feel envious of Stella ? 
 How young, how full of energy, how cultured 
 that voice had sounded ! She left her room.
 
 22 TWO SINNERS 
 
 She could hear his voice in their sitting-room, 
 he was talking just as if he was describing some- 
 thing. The mere sound was extraordinarily 
 pleasant empty sound as it was. She turned 
 the handle of the door and went in. 
 
 He was standing in front of the fire, between 
 Stella and Ursula, who were seated on either side, 
 Stella doing nothing, Ursula, as usual, working. 
 
 He was tall, and erect, and slim ; his face 
 when Maud entered was bent towards Stella. 
 
 He raised his head instantly and glanced 
 across at the newcomer, with eyes that looked 
 out from under level brows, eyes that were 
 speculative, almost wistful. It was a face full of 
 ability, though highly nervous, regular in features, 
 dark, with thick brown hair growing low on a 
 broad brow. 
 
 " I have the honour to be," he said, coming 
 forward to shake hands with Maud, " your aunt 
 Dorothy's husband's brother's second son." 
 
 He was smiling, but his eyes widened with 
 an expression that meant surprise and approba- 
 tion. Perhaps he had expected Maud to look 
 like Ursula taking for granted that Stella 
 would have two plain step-sisters, like Cinderella 
 in the fairy story. 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Maud. " It's very odd 
 that we have never seen you before," and she 
 turned away and looked about for a chair. 
 There seemed to be no chairs in the room, and 
 yet the room was full of chairs. 
 
 Broughton moved forward with a rapid, 
 graceful movement, and seizing a chair pulled
 
 TWO SINNERS 23 
 
 it just opposite to the hearth-rug, so that now 
 when he went back to his position against the 
 mantelpiece he looked down on a little triangle 
 of women. 
 
 Maud seated herself demurely. She stared 
 for a moment at her own lap, then at as much of 
 the fire as she could see on each side of Brough- 
 ton's legs, and then finally up at his face, and 
 this was what her eyes had intended all along, 
 for it fascinated her. 
 
 He was again looking down at Stella, and 
 Stella, leaning back in her low chair, with her 
 turquoise earrings slanting into her hair, wore 
 an air of gentle self-righteousness touched with 
 sorrow for the world that had not understood 
 her talent. Maud knew the expression well. 
 It appeared whenever Stella was conscious of 
 being admired. 
 
 Maud's eyes glanced over Stella's blue satin 
 to her blue stockings and the shimmer of the 
 smart shoes that covered up a neat darn, a darn 
 made by Maud herself, for Stella frankly pre- 
 ferred holes. So Stella knew that she was being 
 admired ; what were her feelings to George 
 Brought on in return ? 
 
 " Go on talking," said Ursula, glancing up 
 from her work at her new-found cousin. 
 
 ' I'm afraid I've been shamelessly egotistical," 
 said Broughton, glancing at Maud with an air 
 of apology, " but I've been spoiled long ago by 
 the interest Stella takes in science, and have 
 been dosing her and Ursula with my new work 
 at the laboratory before you came in."
 
 24 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Stella interested in science ! Maud was 
 amazed at the news. Nothing in the world 
 bored Stella so much as anything to do with 
 science, or religion, or what she called " stodge." 
 
 " Science is too thrilling," said Stella, and the 
 dimples in her cheeks grew very deep. 
 
 " I'm sure it is," said Maud, with a slight 
 smile ; "it must be thrilling to feel that you 
 and you only have got a key to the universe." 
 
 Broughton turned his eyes away from the 
 direction of Stella's dimples and slowly looked 
 Maud over. But he was not really thinking of 
 her, his mental vision was of something in the 
 distance, beyond her. 
 
 "It's not so easy now to think you've got a 
 key to the universe. That's been thought too 
 often," he said. " Mathematics were to solve 
 everything, then physics, then physical chemistry, 
 then thermo-dynamics. Whenever a fresh push 
 is made in one department of science the pioneers 
 are disposed to take themselves too seriously." 
 
 ' It's human nature," said Maud, " to take 
 oneself seriously if anybody can be induced to 
 listen to one for half a minute." 
 
 " Aren't you rather hard on human nature ? " 
 said Broughton, smiling. " Anyhow, the more 
 advanced any branch of science becomes, the 
 more we expect it to solve the problem of life or 
 of matter ; and yet this problem grows not 
 simpler, but more and more complex, so that, 
 instead of being able to smooth things out and 
 reduce everything to some universal principle, 
 the very reverse is taking place we are busy
 
 TWO SINNERS 25 
 
 making confusion worse confounded. The fact 
 is that now that the light of science burns more 
 brightly, we are becoming conscious for the 
 first time of the increasing vastness of the dark 
 that surrounds us, the mystery of the universe 
 in which we find ourselves. The more we know 
 the more we become aware that we really know 
 nothing." 
 
 Maud looked up at him. This man had 
 probably no more belief in immortality, or Christ, 
 than had Major Kames, but his unbelief was 
 tinged with reverence that was in itself a sort 
 of religion perhaps all the religion that any 
 one has a right to have. And George Brough- 
 ton looked so young. Maud could not help 
 picturing him and Major Kames standing to- 
 gether Major Kames ! 
 
 The silence was broken by an exclamation 
 from Stella. 
 
 " How intensely exciting your work must be ! 
 I just wonder that you can spare the time to 
 eat or sleep." 
 
 Broughton burst out laughing. He was 
 delighted at the remark, though to Maud it 
 seemed a very silly one. 
 
 Maud shrank into herself and was silent. 
 If Stella had said " Bo," he evidently would 
 have been equally pleased. He would doubtless 
 have discovered some strange grace and in- 
 telligence lurking in that ejaculation that had 
 escaped the world's consciousness all these many 
 years. 
 
 How was it that Broughton could be
 
 26 TWO SINNERS 
 
 profoundly critical of ideas and so uncritical 
 about Stella ? 
 
 Maud gnawed mentally at this question over 
 and over again. Was it because he had no 
 measure with which to weigh a woman, but the 
 measure with which he weighed himself ? Did 
 he attribute to every human being who was kind 
 to him the intelligence, the moral rectitude, of 
 his own nature "? 
 
 Maud glanced up at his face and felt certain 
 that it was so. 
 
 " A great deal of one's work is dull," he said, 
 turning to Stella, l< because it doesn't even 
 involve thinking. So that six or seven hours' 
 work daily in a laboratory doesn't mean six or 
 seven hours of concentrated thought. Nothing 
 of the sort it may mean mere pottering for 
 hours, days ; it may mean waiting for results, or 
 perhaps patient attention only, observation and 
 calculations of a mechanical kind. 
 
 " A great discovery may turn up by accident. 
 A lucky ' by-product/ so to speak, may turn 
 up in some experiment that in itself has no 
 results. A man may work for life and do little 
 for Science, or he may make a sudden step 
 forward, though he has no constructive imagina- 
 tion. By patient attention he may hit on 
 something that he neither expected nor was 
 capable of anticipating." 
 
 ' What is your particular work ? '" asked 
 Maud. 
 
 " Chemistry," he said. 
 
 Ursula sat on her side of the fire, knitting
 
 TWO SINNERS 27 
 
 away and listening intently, glancing up at 
 Broughton through a pair of eyeglasses stuck 
 on her high-bridged nose. Long experience 
 of never being admired, of never expecting to 
 be admired, of never feeling bitter because she 
 wasn't admired, had given Ursula a certain quiet 
 dignity of self-f orgetfulness. Of the three women, 
 she was the only one who listened to Broughton 
 with pure unalloyed interest in his talk for its 
 own sake. 
 
 Stella was full of the " pride of possession." 
 She was saying over and over to herself that 
 though Maud had wrenched Major Kames from 
 her grasp, she would find it impossible to capture 
 Broughton. Stella had done her best, in fact, 
 to make it impossible she had hinted more 
 than once to Broughton at Aunt Dorothy's that 
 her sister Maud had already made her choice 
 a choice which was perhaps a little disappointing. 
 Stella was strong now, in the conviction that one 
 oughtn't to marry a man because he was wealthy 
 was Maud going to marry for wealth ? Stella's 
 thoughts, indeed, all the time that Broughton 
 was talking were on this subject ; and only now 
 and again did she recover her attention sufficiently 
 to be able to throw out vague and rather ex- 
 aggerated pronouncements of sympathy. 
 
 She was arguing with herself that manly 
 beauty and youth were " really and truly " 
 of far greater importance in a lover than the 
 possession of an ancient country house, of 
 motor-cars, of wealth that laughs at the bills of 
 milliners and of tailors. So indeed she argued.
 
 28 TWO SINNEBS 
 
 She wanted to assure herself that she was not 
 merely acting rightly, but was lucky and 
 Maud was likely to be " unlucky." 
 
 Stella felt that she had within her all the 
 musical imagination that should command a 
 brilliant career ; but that society being what it 
 is, full of ignorant prejudice and full of corrup- 
 tion, a woman had a better chance sad to say 
 if she had wealth at her back. 
 
 If you have money, you can pay for the 
 publication of your book and give the public 
 a chance ; you can pay people, by giving them 
 expensive food and drinks for nothing, to look 
 on while you act, or while you sing ; you can 
 " bribe " a reluctant world to your feet just as 
 you " bribe " a naughty child to be good, for a 
 moment. And in spite of all this this gross 
 fact about life about marriage for a woman 
 Stella felt willing to " give up " Major Kames to 
 Maud, and to take instead this penniless, brilliant 
 young man. It would mean death to the career 
 she desired, but it would mean love ! And after 
 all love is something ! So indeed she argued ! 
 
 As to Maud, she listened, but all the time her 
 whole mind was intent, watching Broughton 
 with downcast eyes that nothing escaped not 
 a glance, not the intonation of a word. Why did 
 Stella allow this man to love her ? for it was 
 plain to Maud that her sister was not in love 
 with him, but was trying to think she was ! 
 Probably Stella felt that she too must marry 
 somebody ! So she meant to marry Broughton, 
 only and this was Maud's chief point Stella
 
 TWO SINNERS 29 
 
 was preventing some other woman from loving 
 him, deeply, passionately, for his own sake. 
 Strangely enough this thought made Maud's 
 pulses leap with indignation. So George 
 Broughton was to be sacrificed ! 
 
 What about Major Kames being sacrificed 
 on the same altar ? 
 
 Ah, there was all the world of difference. 
 The two men could not be compared. To 
 compare Major Kames with Broughton was like 
 comparing a modern Paris restaurant, orna- 
 mented with rococo plaster mouldings, with a 
 Greek temple of the age of Pericles. To sacrifice 
 Broughton was a shocking outrage, to sacrifice 
 Major Kames was well a pity for the person 
 who was compelled to do it. Maud felt profound 
 profound pity for Major Kames's wife. 
 
 The clock had struck half-past ten and the 
 long hand had slowly dragged itself to the figure 
 eight, when the front-door bell was heard to 
 ring sharply. 
 
 Major Kames ! The note she had given to 
 the maid would stop him from coming upstairs ! 
 No, it had not stopped him, for there he was, 
 actually coming upstairs ! How horrible ! No, 
 it was not Major Kames it was a woman's 
 steps alone. 
 
 Maud had clutched hold of both arms of her 
 chair ; the flush had vanished from her face and 
 left her absolutely pale. She felt as if some 
 one standing behind her had gently but firmly 
 pressed her head down to receive some dreaded 
 weight. She heard the door open ; the odour
 
 30 TWO SINNERS 
 
 of flowers came to her nostrils ; the whole room 
 was filled by the scent of flowers. 
 
 " For you, Miss/' said the maid at her elbow, 
 and she laid a massive bouquet of lilies of the 
 valley and carnations upon her knees. The maid 
 also held out a letter. 
 
 " For you, Miss," she repeated. 
 
 Maud raised her head and took the letter. 
 She half rose from her chair, and the flowers 
 dropped to the ground. 
 
 In a moment Broughton was gathering them 
 up. 
 
 ' They are magnificent ! Do you find the 
 scent a bit strong ? " he asked quietly. 
 
 Ursula's knitting had dropped to her lap 
 and she was sitting upright looking at Maud. 
 Stella was leaning forward in her chair staring. 
 
 Neither of her sisters asked : ' ' Who are the 
 flowers from ? " They both knew. How could 
 he have got flowers at this hour when the shops 
 are closed ? Her letter only reached him at 
 nine ! That was only part of the sinister un- 
 reality of the moment. The whole incident was 
 like a nightmare from which she was unable to 
 rouse herself. Broughton was passing Maud, 
 in order to place the flowers on a table, and as he 
 did so he swiftly and adroitly touched her hand 
 with his, and whispered : 
 
 " Don't tear up your letter ! " 
 
 Maud looked down at her hands. She was 
 tearing up the letter. The touch of his hand 
 on hers had brought her to her senses. It was 
 the touch of a man who sympathises, nothing
 
 TWO SINNERS 31 
 
 more. It was Stella whom this man loved. 
 She, Maud, was loved by Major Kames. 
 
 Maud straightened herself, and drew a long 
 breath, and gravely tore open the envelope and 
 unfolded the sheet. 
 
 It contained one word " Thanks " in Major 
 Kames's large handwriting. 
 
 Maud looked round the room. Broughton 
 was putting the flowers into an empty bowl. 
 Ursula was fumbling with her knitting and leaning 
 over it. Stella's face was flushed and averted. 
 
 " They are from Major Kames," said Maud, 
 and she walked to where Broughton was standing. 
 
 " I suppose I must have them put into water," 
 she added. She gathered them up in her hands, 
 and went to the door. Broughton opened it 
 for her, and she passed through without looking 
 at him again, bearing her burden.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WHEN once in her room she closed the door 
 softly. 
 
 Only a genius could have said " Thanks," 
 and yet 
 
 She threw the flowers upon her bed. Then 
 with a guilty, restless movement, she filled a 
 glass on the mantelpiece, and taking up the 
 flowers again, put them in. Then she opened 
 her door and stepped outside and listened, the 
 flowers in her hand. She could hear voices 
 louder and louder; the sitting-room door was 
 opening ; he was saying " Good night." She 
 closed her door again, and turned the key and 
 put down the flowers. She stood holding her 
 breath and waiting ; she had closed her door 
 lest she should hear him saying anything to 
 Stella outside. She closed her ears for some 
 seconds it seemed a long time and when she 
 opened them she heard him come along the 
 passage, pass her door, and go downstairs ; then 
 came a moment's quiet, and the hall door was 
 pulled open and shut again. He had gone. 
 Why had she met George Broughton to-day ? 
 He had made her hate Major Kames. 
 
 Maud unlocked her door again and looked out. 
 The sitting-room door was shut and no sounds 
 came from it. She swiftly seized the vase of
 
 TWO SINNERS 33 
 
 flowers and put it on a little table outside the 
 sitting-room door. Then she returned to her 
 room and locked the door for the second time. 
 She could not go and say " Good night " to her 
 sisters. She hadn't the nerve. It would be 
 bad enough to say " Good morning " at breakfast 
 and meet their eyes, now that they knew, 
 though it would have been infinitely worse to 
 have had to tell them. At least, that was 
 over. 
 
 She resolutely began to undress. In a few 
 minutes she heard Stella come out of the sitting- 
 room singing in a sprightly way. She suddenly 
 changed her singing into a whistle as she ran 
 upstairs to her room. Maud thought she heard 
 Ursula follow, and then all was quiet. 
 
 Maud had not been in bed a quarter of an 
 hour, when there came a slight knock on her 
 door ; it was just loud enough to be heard if 
 one was awake. Maud lay motionless and made 
 no response. She tried to imagine that the 
 sound was an illusion. The knock was repeated 
 a second time, and Maud, not able to call it an 
 illusion any more, began to harden her heart 
 against the sound. Why did Ursula want to 
 disturb her now that the pulses in her head were 
 throbbing like some remorseless machinery ? 
 Wiry did Ursula insist on coming to her room ? 
 why should she intrude just now just now ? 
 
 Maud listened for the knock to come a third 
 time, but it did not come ; she could hear only 
 a faint rustle as of some one going away, and 
 then there came absolute silence. 
 
 D
 
 34 TWO SINNERS 
 
 For a few moments Maud went on justifying 
 herself vehemently for not letting her sister in. 
 Why should she have to endure any reproaches, 
 by word or look, about this crisis in her life ? 
 If her engagement was a wrong one, it was she 
 who would suffer, and no one else. Life had 
 conspired against her ; she was the victim of 
 tragedy ; whereas all that was worth having, 
 all that made for real happiness, had been thrown 
 at Stella's feet, for her to play with. And yet 
 Ursula actually wanted to come to talk about it 
 all ! It was rather hard ! Then, while she still 
 justified herself and pitied herself, there came 
 sweeping over her the remembrance of all that 
 Ursula had been to her, all that she had done for 
 her, the years of unselfish ministration ; and yet 
 this unique sister and friend had been shut out 
 from all knowledge of an event that was to come 
 and separate them for ever. This friend had 
 been repulsed when she humbly enough 
 knocked at the door. 
 
 Bitter tears came to Maud's eyes and she 
 wept on her pillow. Her father had been 
 nothing to her emotionally. He had been 
 a presence, a voice speaking authoritatively, as 
 she thought, discussing affairs, books, religion, 
 philosophy, science, with the airy scepticism 
 of a dilettante, colouring her youthful views of 
 the world of thought. It was Ursula who had 
 shared all her childish joys and sorrows, and who 
 had watched over her with a maternal love. 
 And dear Ursula, poor Ursula, was she lying 
 awake, grieved to the heart ?
 
 TWO SINNERS 35 
 
 Maud pushed out her arm in the darkness 
 and put on the light. She threw on her dressing- 
 gown and put on her slippers. The air was 
 very cold. Cautiously she unlocked her door 
 and opened it. It was dark in the passage and 
 stairs, and the faint perfume of those flowers met 
 her on the warm air of the closed house. 
 
 She left her door open and by its light crept 
 upstairs. One of the stairs creaked as she went 
 up. At the top it was almost perfectly dark ; 
 she felt her way to Ursula's door. Ursula had the 
 front room. It had not been her wish, but 
 propriety had compelled the two younger sisters 
 to thrust it upon her. Under Ursula's door was 
 a faint streak of light. Maud paused. She did 
 not knock, because Ursula had knocked on her 
 door in vain ; she turned round the handle 
 noiselessly and opened the door and closed it 
 behind her. Ursula was sitting up in bed. She 
 was reading. 
 
 Maud could see that she had been crying, 
 the eyes behind the eyeglasses were reddened, 
 and the mouth was relaxed. She exclaimed in 
 a whisper : 
 
 "Maud! Dear Maud!" 
 
 Maud came towards the bed. 
 
 " I ought to have told you," she said " oh, 
 Ursula, I ought to have told you. Forgive me, 
 forgive me, dear. God bless you I can't wait, 
 but I must say Good night, darling Ursula." 
 
 Maud bent down swiftly and kissed her 
 sister's brow and then fled fled, closing the 
 door behind her rapidly and securely, and
 
 36 TWO SINNERS 
 
 hurrying down the stairs, by the aid of the thin 
 railing, back to her own bedroom. And with 
 her went the memory of Ursula's face pale, 
 tear-stained, full of love in which there was no 
 room for thought of self, no room for forgiveness, 
 for no anger had tarnished that heart of gold. 
 Ursula's face meant profound anxiety for her 
 darling's happiness and perhaps a sense of 
 great loneliness.
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 THERE are no longer any hidden romantic spots 
 in our Island. There is not a mountain glen 
 among the northern hills that has not been 
 skimmed through a thousand times ; there is 
 not a quaint dovecot of a church hidden in a 
 Sussex dean that has not been glanced at every 
 day of the week by the motorist and his women- 
 folk, as they go in search of that more congenial 
 object of art the picturesque village inn. 
 
 Is all this laying bare of old secrets the reason, 
 or at least one of the reasons, why our love of 
 poetry is dying ? Nothing is mysterious, nothing 
 is left to the imagination. Everybody has seen 
 everything, or at least everybody has hurried 
 past everything ; and even the poor have seen 
 the world in their picture palaces. 
 
 If rapid physical movement has helped to 
 kill the old romance, it has also created a sort 
 of romance of its own or rather an illusion of 
 its own. 
 
 The mentally, the physically inert can now 
 delude themselves into the notion that, by 
 arriving here and there swiftly, they are making 
 time of real value ; they seem to be actually 
 doing something. In the case of Major Kames, 
 however, who might have shown more mental 
 energy if he had had less money, there was no
 
 38 TWO SINNERS 
 
 case of self-deception when he moved about 
 from, place to place. 
 
 Behind the desire that he used to have for 
 more or less superfluous movement was the 
 conviction that life was probably a vicious circle, 
 and that the slower you went the more you 
 pandered to the false assumption that the 
 human race was on some important high road 
 and ought to go carefully. Possessing a certain 
 power of artistic creation, a natural love of all 
 the arts, of music, and poetry, Major Kames, 
 in this rush of life, had left them uncultivated. 
 If he played the piano and sang, it was because 
 it was extremely easy to do so, and he found it 
 gave enhanced value to the social side of life. 
 
 He had gone down to Brighton in December 
 for a week because the ground was too hard for 
 hunting, and he had stayed there two months 
 on and off, much to his own amazement. But he 
 had at last discovered his own motive. He meant 
 to marry Maud Monckton and he seemed to be 
 on the eve of accomplishing his wish. 
 
 An experience of something like twenty 
 years had impressed him with the fact that in the 
 marriage market a very great deal of money will 
 buy almost anything titles birth beauty 
 talent it will even buy more money ; but one 
 thing it cannot secure it cannot secure fastidious 
 culture and moral refinement, not merely because 
 this is not to be found in markets of any kind, 
 but because, even if found elsewhere, it is not 
 amenable to economic laws ; it has laws of its 
 own, reasons that the reason knows not of. All
 
 TWO SINNERS 39 
 
 the romance that can lurk in the heart of a man 
 of thirty-nine, who, like Kames, has knocked 
 about the world, was concentrated just now 
 on one object. He wanted to marry, to settle 
 down permanently, and to have as wife a woman 
 of a different type from those he had met before, 
 the type of which w r e have just spoken. It is 
 not to be found nowadays in Society, which 
 spells itself with a capital S, nor in the wealthy 
 commercial circles with which they intermarry. 
 This type of woman can be met with now and 
 again in some quiet, unfashionable country- 
 house, or some secluded suburban villa, where 
 the master of the house is a scholar of leisure, 
 neither wealthy nor poor, an aristocrat of the 
 world of letters, educating those around him to 
 appreciate what is rare and to reject what is 
 vulgar. 
 
 Another point of importance with Kames 
 was that his wife should not hunt ; he was 
 convinced that women were spoiling the hunting- 
 field they were either slackers or they pressed. 
 
 But Major Kames's choice of a wife was to 
 depend on more than character and education. 
 He had painted a portrait of her in his imagina- 
 tion. She must be as tall as possible, and rather 
 thin. She must look over the heads of other 
 women with an expression of unconscious superi- 
 ority. She must be neither black nor yellow 
 (his reasons were obvious), but she must have 
 ropes of light brown hair and a fair, pale, healthy 
 complexion, and she must not smile too often. 
 In short, her personality, physical and mental,
 
 40 TWO SINNERS 
 
 must be such as cannot be imitated by the actress 
 or the foreigner. 
 
 Married life, he considered, had extraordinary 
 natural drawbacks to it, but with a woman of 
 whose presence he would constantly be proud, 
 and whom he could trust, it might be endurable ; 
 it would at least be mysteriously charming and 
 amazingly absurd and he was no longer 
 young. 
 
 Maud was as nearly a counterpart of that 
 portrait as Kames was ever likely to meet. He 
 pursued her with persistency and even with a 
 certain amount of success. He found the chase 
 interesting, for she was an unknown quantity to 
 him her mind was not constructed like his. 
 
 When Maud came down to breakfast on the 
 morning following her engagement to Major 
 Kames, her eyes caught in an instant three 
 things Ursula at the breakfast-table, a letter 
 from Major Kames lying conspicuously on the 
 table, Major Kames's flowers conspicuously in the 
 middle of the table. 
 
 She had awakened that morning with a feeling 
 of nervous fatigue, a sense of heaviness, which 
 made it easier than she had expected to behave 
 with a sort of weary diplomacy before her sisters 
 when she met them that morning. 
 
 Now that her engagement to Major Kames 
 was a fact, and known to be a fact, she must go 
 through with it in a dignified manner. It was 
 not necessary to pretend that she was in love 
 with him that would be an absurd lie ; and she 
 must not allow any one not even Ursula to
 
 TWO SINNERS 41 
 
 say, even to hint, that " being in love " is 
 necessary to the success of an engagement. 
 
 If she broke off the engagement herself, she 
 would do it properly with decorum on the 
 plea, not that it was a mistake from the 
 beginning, but that it had turned out to be a 
 mistake. 
 
 Maud bent down as she passed her sister's 
 chair and kissed her, saying tenderly " Darling 
 Ursula," but she did not look to see if the emotion 
 of last night was still reddening her sister's 
 eyelids. She looked resolutely at her plate, 
 and took up Major Kames's letter boldly and 
 tore it open, as if she was accustomed to receive 
 letters from him. 
 
 If only Stella had been down in time for 
 breakfast, the situation would have been less 
 strained, but Stella never was in time for any- 
 thing. 
 
 Maud read through her letter twice, while 
 Ursula wrestled with the coffee-pot and the 
 hot milk. 
 
 " Major Kames," said Maud in a rather hard 
 voice, " wants to come here this morning to 
 see you. He wants to take me out somewhere 
 to lunch. Is that all right, Ursula ? " 
 
 Maud had tightened up all her nerves, and 
 turned her face to her sister and smiled. When 
 she saw that Ursula was holding out to her a 
 cup of coffee with a hand that had a tremor in 
 it, then, for a moment, she wanted to burst out 
 crying ; but she steeled herself resolutely and 
 frowned, dropping her eyes and raising her
 
 42 TWO SINNERS 
 
 eyebrows in a manner common to her when she 
 was determined upon some action. 
 
 ' You will want to go out with him," said 
 Ursula. The remark was neither a question nor 
 a positive statement it lay between the two ; it 
 came from a heart that was full of distress, full of 
 surprise, and yet carefully trying to repress both. 
 
 " He will be here about eleven o'clock," said 
 Maud evasively. Then she looked out of the 
 window at the sea. It was a brilliant morning- 
 almost as brilliant as the previous day had been. 
 The sea was full of moving blue and white, 
 which seemed to glitter backwards and forwards 
 just as if some rich silk shot with blue and white 
 was shifted to and fro to catch the light, first 
 one way, then the other. 
 
 " I want to go out directly," said Maud. 
 " I feel as if I needed some exercise. I have a 
 slight headache, and motoring is no good for 
 that. Can I do anything for you, Ursula ? " 
 and then, answering Ursula's anxious eyes, she 
 added, " It's nothing, only I must get out of 
 doors. Can't I do your shopping for you ? ' : 
 
 Maud felt that she was successfully enveloping 
 herself with an impenetrable cover, behind which 
 she could endure her own troubles in secret, and 
 all this without behaving to Ursula in any im- 
 proper manner or ceasing to be affectionate to 
 her. If she could go out alone, till Major Kames 
 came, and got over his first meeting with Ursula 
 and Stella as their future brother-in-law, then 
 well, then then would come an interminable 
 number of tete-d-tetes with Major Kames. Suppose
 
 TWO SINNERS 43 
 
 she found them unpleasant perhaps humili- 
 ating ! She ate her breakfast without being 
 aware of what she was eating, and as soon as she 
 excusably could, she got up. 
 
 Her sister's silence was both painful and yet 
 a relief. It was impossible to talk of other things. , 
 just now, and yet any talk about the engagement 
 was equally impossible. Just as Maud rose from 
 her chair, Stella came into the room. Last 
 night she had looked like a goddess ; this morn- 
 ing, for the privacy of her own family, she was 
 a very good-looking, untidy girl ; her blouse 
 was crookedly pinned at the back, she had 
 forgotten to put on her waistbelt ; on the other 
 hand, she had two pocket-handkerchiefs with her 
 and a book that she had no intention of reading. 
 
 ' You rushed off to bed last night so that we 
 couldn't congratulate you, old girl," she called 
 out to Maud as she came in. " All the time I 
 was with Aunt Dorothy I expected the news 
 but it didn't come." Stella spoke with a smile 
 that made her dimples deepen. 
 
 " I was only engaged yesterday," said Maud, 
 walking to the door as quickly as she could with 
 dignity. " I could not tell you of it before 
 because it had not occurred. Major Kames is 
 coming here at eleven to see Ursula and you 
 and me ! I don't know anything about engage- 
 ments, but I suppose they have to be announced." 
 
 The swift colour deepened in Stella's face, but 
 she still smiled. 
 
 " I'm most awfully sorry I shan't see him 
 this morning," she said, sitting down at the
 
 44 TWO SINNERS 
 
 table, " but I've promised to golf this morning 
 at ten o'clock. I suppose I'm late ; I must 
 buck up. Please give him all the proper sort of 
 messages and all that and 
 
 ''' I will," said Maud, and she closed the door, 
 shutting out Stella's flushed cheeks and Ursula's 
 back, only too expressive slightly bowed 
 patient unhappy. 
 
 Maud did know very little about engage- 
 ments, but she was sure that usually they were 
 occasions of great rejoicing and much family 
 discussion. How different was hers ! She might 
 almost have committed a crime and announced 
 it ! She walked dismally up to her room. 
 Wasn't it rather hard that she should begin her 
 new life as a culprit ? What had she done to 
 deserve such treatment ? 
 
 She went out on to the Parade, towards 
 Rottingdean, hurrying and trying not to think ; 
 breathing the keen cold air into her lungs, and 
 looking with wide-open eyes at the blue sky and 
 the sea as if the purity and brilliance of the 
 morning could restore her peace of mind. 
 
 At eleven o'clock punctually, Ursula was in 
 their sitting-room waiting. Maud had only just 
 returned from her walk, and had run upstairs 
 to her room. There was already the sound of a 
 motor snorting at the door. Major Kames had 
 come. Ursula was walking about nervously. 
 
 ;f That's right, Maud," she said, as her sister 
 
 walked in. " I was afraid you " There she 
 
 stopped, for the girl's face was terribly pale. 
 
 Ursula seized her sister's hands. " Maud ! "
 
 TWO SINNERS 45 
 
 The question " Do you love him 1 " she dared 
 not add Maud's eyes forbade it. 
 
 " It's all right, dear, all right ! " said Maud 
 rather proudly, but not without some tenderness 
 in her voice, as she took her hands away from 
 Ursula's grasp, and after kissing her affection- 
 ately, walked away with a high independent air. 
 Kames's step was on the stairs a very different 
 step from the youthful spring of George 
 Broughton. 
 
 Kames had not waited for the maid to 
 announce him. He knocked at the door, opened 
 it, and walked in. 
 
 He was a little flushed over and above his 
 tanned complexion. He bowed to Ursula and 
 then walked straight up to Maud, took her 
 hand, and, bending down, kissed it. When he 
 raised his head he stared at her and the flush 
 died away. So his engagement was of importance 
 to him, an emotional crisis in his life ! He was 
 putting his life into the hands of this tall pale 
 girl, who looked at him with veiled criticism 
 and yet did not realise how much it all meant 
 to him. She was thinking of herself only. 
 
 " Miss Monckton, Ursula, please congratulate 
 us," he said, turning to Ursula, and he grasped 
 her hands, holding them tightly in his own till 
 she responded. 
 
 ' You are much to be congratulated," said 
 Ursula, stammering a little. 
 
 He released her hands, and the ceremony was 
 over. He did not seem to have noticed Stella's 
 absence at least he made no comment.
 
 46 ' TWO SINNERS 
 
 The ceremony was over, and Kames had 
 behaved in a very proper manner ; he had not 
 been objectionably hearty, nor hilarious, and the 
 conversation that followed, though jerky and 
 rather lame on their side, was made up for by 
 volubility on his. 
 
 " There are any amount of things to talk 
 over," he was soon saying. "And I want to 
 take you all over to see Orpenden House. I am 
 impatient for you to see your future home- 
 Ursula, you must see it but this morning I 
 want to take Maud oS with me. I want to flaunt 
 her before the world as belonging to me." 
 
 Maud and Ursula looked, not at each other, but 
 at the top button of Major Kames's waistcoat. 
 
 " Eh ? " he insisted. 
 
 " Of course," said Ursula ; " I'm sure Maud 
 will go ; it's not windy." 
 
 " It's not at all windy," said Maud. " Have 
 you got the putty-coloured motor or the green 
 and purple ? ' : She was trying to speak chafE- 
 ingly, and she waited for his answer with a 
 smile upon her lips. 
 
 " Green and purple," he replied. ' Why ? >: 
 
 " On this lovely morning," said Maud, " a 
 closed motor is simply impossible. You can 
 send the man back for the other, can't you ? " 
 
 Kames's face showed some disappointment. 
 " I can, of course, if you wish it." 
 
 " Please," said Maud. " I can put on warm 
 things, and you can send for another coat." 
 
 So determined was she that she had moved 
 to the bell and had put out her hand to ring it.
 
 TWO SINNERS 47 
 
 " Don't ring," said Kames ; " I'll go and tell 
 the man myself if you really make a point of 
 going in the other one." He looked at her ; 
 she bent her head emphatically. 
 
 " Really," she said. 
 
 He was not pleased, but he submitted and 
 went downstairs. 
 
 Rather than meet Ursula's eyes, Maud walked 
 to the window and looked out, making believe 
 to be very busy watching Major Kames speak to 
 the chauffeur and seeing the car slide swiftly off. 
 
 " I've begun early eh, Ursula," said Kames, 
 returning rather breathless. " Please make a 
 note of this : Maud's had her own way from the 
 very start. Don't you think I promise to make 
 a good husband eh ? " 
 
 Maud turned away from the window. 
 
 " Do you want me to get ready ? Perhaps 
 I had better. What a glorious day it is ! " 
 
 " But it gets icily cold in the afternoon. 
 Maud, you haven't settled with Major Kames 
 when you are to come back. Don't let it be 
 very late in the afternoon, in an open car." 
 
 " Major Kames ! " Kames stood erect at 
 the door with a look of mock wrath on his face. 
 " Major Kames ! Maud, don't go till this insult 
 is apologised for." 
 
 " Lionel," said Ursula, laughing a little. 
 "It's difficult to make a sudden change in the 
 way of addressing people ! Lionel ! " 
 
 " I don't find it difficult," said Kames, 
 opening the door. " Maud comes easily- Maud, 
 Maud, Maud ! There's positively nothing to
 
 48 TWO SINNERS 
 
 learn in it, and Ursula follows as a matter of 
 course both fine names as names go." 
 
 Maud fled upstairs to her room, feeling as 
 she mounted each step that she was moving 
 swiftly in a dream, a strange dream, out of which 
 Major Kames might suddenly step, and leave 
 her to go on dreaming of something else. Instead 
 of dressing at once, she moved about her room 
 in a blind way, holding her hands before her 
 eyes. Must she dress ? Had she to pretend 
 that this dream was real, and to follow it out 
 in the details that presented themselves to her ? 
 
 She pulled a bonnet out of a drawer and put 
 it on. It was of dark brown silk, with a frill ; 
 a pink rose was on one side. It suited her 
 admirably ; the pink rose was illuminating. 
 
 Maud looked at her own image in the glass, 
 and drew a long and profound sigh. 
 
 She tied a brown veil over her face, and this 
 only added to the illusive charm of her appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " How hopeless ! " she found herself saying 
 aloud. 
 
 She went to a cupboard and pulled out a 
 thick coat with a fur collar, a coat that Ursula 
 had given her at Christmas, and for which she 
 had saved previously. 
 
 Then Maud looked for a pair of thick gloves. 
 
 She found them in a moment, in a certain 
 corner of another drawer. Her room was a 
 pattern of neatness of more than mere neat- 
 ness ; for in spite of the obvious poverty of the 
 owner, there was a profusion of books books
 
 TWO SINNEKS 49 
 
 that must have cost money carefully selected 
 and carefully kept. 
 
 Whatever Maud did, she did well. She and 
 Ursula had more than the usual woman's share 
 of mental vitality, and it overflowed into the 
 routine of every day, making them do little 
 things in a grand manner. 
 
 She left her room very slowly, and went 
 downstairs one step at a time, as if she was 
 walking to meet some fate that she dreaded. 
 
 She glanced at the sitting-room door. She 
 could hear Ursula's voice and then Kames's 
 deep in conversation. She opened the door and 
 saw an amazing sight. 
 
 Ursula was on the couch with Major Kames 
 beside her. Ursula's thin angular figure was 
 bolt upright all bony structure, so to speak, 
 and considering its stiffness and power of 
 resistance, wonderfully amenable to the per- 
 suasive arm that Kames had put round her, 
 while he emphasised his words with his other 
 hand and extended emphatic forefinger, wagging 
 it under her very nose. Ursula's face was a 
 little flushed, but it was smiling. 
 
 No man but Kames would have dared, would 
 have cared, to treat Ursula in this fashion. She 
 had expected to be treated with the respectful 
 indifference, or with that secret enmity veneered 
 by exasperating politeness that is meted out 
 to the unavoidable chaperon ; but Kames was 
 argmng with her as if she was well, a human 
 being like himself and for whom he cared. 
 
 :< Ursula and I are agreeing on every point," 
 
 E
 
 50 TWO SINNERS 
 
 called out Kames in a hearty voice. In some 
 things, Kames was an expert ! Ursula was 
 already on his side ; Maud could see that by 
 the tone in which she was now pronouncing his 
 name " Lionel " and the way she looked at 
 him ; there was already between them a cordial 
 understanding, a mutual regard.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 EVERYTHING that met Maud's eye that morning 
 seemed vaguely disappointing, strangely faulty. 
 The joy that was in the frosty air and fine 
 vaporous sunshine, the gaiety of sparkling icy 
 particles on hedgerows, on the roadside, were gone. 
 The earth had clothed herself with a mantle of 
 pure matter-of-fact. Every lane, every thatched 
 cottage, suggested money or the want of it 
 contemptible money, money which the soul 
 despises, and the mind searches for passionately. 
 
 Maud was, now, wealthy at least wealth 
 was hers if she put out her hands to grasp it 
 yes, if she had the courage to grasp it. 
 
 To Kames's remarks she replied with the 
 proper amount of yes and no and smiles and 
 laughter that she considered necessary to the 
 occasion. 
 
 A great artist in words, a scientist, whom 
 some believe to be a great philosopher, has 
 called laughter an expression of human vanity. 
 In his consideration of laughter he omits one 
 kind one peculiar to civilisation a hard shrill 
 noise, which is more or less competitive, like the 
 crowing of cocks, and which is called, neverthe- 
 less, laughter by those who make it. It is 
 meant to signify successful gaiety, and the sound
 
 52 TWO SINNERS 
 
 strikes the passer-by with a dismal world- 
 weariness. 
 
 He also omits the laughter of tragedy when 
 some overpowering fear, fear of the death of a 
 beloved one, is suddenly relieved by the presence 
 of the beloved, and laughter, like a bird escaped, 
 trembles and floats in an access of joy. 
 
 But Maud's laughter was not laughter at all, 
 it was consciously due to an effort of will, in 
 order to avoid the more difficult effort talk 
 with some one wiiom one does not understand 
 and who is sitting too near. How long the drive 
 seemed ! They went some forty miles only, 
 just .straight inland and then along the northern 
 edge of the Downs and finally to the sea again, 
 reaching Eastbourne about one o'clock. The 
 sea was now no longer perfectly smooth, the 
 brilliancy of blue and white had faded. There 
 was less blue and more white ; a grey hue was 
 stealing into it. The air was less frosty ; there 
 was the coming of wind and of thaw already in 
 the air. 
 
 The car drew up at a large white hotel facing 
 the sea. 
 
 " We can get our lunch here," said Kames. 
 He stamped his feet on the pavement and then 
 helped Maud to alight. 
 
 " Not a bad place this for lunch," he re- 
 marked, as he led the way through a pretentious 
 portal. Maud saw no particular quality in the 
 hotel : it was the sort of place that rich business 
 people would motor down to from London, in 
 order to feed. The dining-room was large, full
 
 TWO SINNEES 53 
 
 of small tables, though very few had occupants. 
 Kames ordered a lunch d la carte, which irritated 
 Maud. 
 
 "I have no particular preference for anything," 
 she said hurriedly ; " please don't order any 
 weird sort of things for me, because I never 
 take anything but coffee and bread and butter 
 in the middle of the day." 
 
 This was not strictly true ; but Maud's mood 
 exaggerated the brilliant austerity of her own 
 taste in order to throw his into deeper shadow. 
 
 There was nothing in his way of life that she 
 admired, and yet she intended sharing it with 
 him, retaining, however, the right to grumble at 
 it. This seemed to be the bald fact. 
 
 " Rubbish ! " said Kames, giving his orders. 
 
 She took off her veil and gloves and seated 
 herself at the table, and sat looking as if nothing 
 was really good enough for her. This expression 
 was exactly what Kames admired. He had 
 seated himself opposite her, and now he threw 
 himself back in his chair and laughed. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he said, staring at her, " you 
 look as if you meant business." 
 
 Maud raised her eyebrows. 
 ' What do you mean ? Do you mean that I 
 look hungry or greedy ? " 
 
 " I mean that you look splendid," said 
 Kames ; " you put a hoity-toity little bonnet on 
 like that, and then you go and tell me that you 
 don't know what I mean. Well, I mean any- 
 thing you like, whatever you approve of, or will 
 make you smile."
 
 54 TWO SINNERS 
 
 * Thanks," said Maud, with a faint smile. 
 
 " Without any flattery, Maud," said Kames, 
 leaning forwards and putting his arms on the 
 table'; " sitting like that, so that one can't 
 see your skirts, you look the very picture of a 
 pretty, smart, clever Early Victorian, and nothing 
 can beat that, nothing, by all the gods of 
 Egypt ! " 
 
 ' Why of Egypt ? " questioned Maud. 
 ' Why ! " said Kames, trying to think. 
 " Well, because, bless 'em, there's such a lot of 
 'em, and they're such rum-looking chaps." 
 
 " Thanks," said Maud. 
 
 " Eh ? " he demanded. " Oh, I see ; I've 
 put my foot into it ought to have sworn by a 
 glass chandelier or a steel fender and fire-irons. 
 But it's the way you move that I admire most 
 I've been longing to tell you that for two months,"' 
 he continued, speaking now in a loud whisper. 
 " You're different from any girl I've ever seen, 
 this style exclusive. You're an enigma, a 
 riddle." 
 
 " Of the Sphinx, I suppose ? " said Maud, 
 trying to look cheerfully across at him. 
 
 " No ! " burst out Kames. He uttered the 
 exclamation in a tone of suppressed thunder, 
 that made the few scattered people in the room 
 turn and glance at the pair. " That I suspected 
 long ago." 
 
 " And what is it ? " demanded Maud, with a 
 temporary flash of real interest. 
 
 " What is it ? " he said. " Well, I've come 
 at it by years of meditation, up and down Europe
 
 TWO SINNERS 55 
 
 and the other side of the Atlantic. It's not an 
 original idea, but it's true, I'm afraid." 
 
 " And what is it ? " 
 
 Kames repeated the words in a slow, soft 
 voice : 
 
 " And the end is silence." 
 
 Maud's eyes fell. She shrugged her shoulders. 
 ' That's why we kick up such a devil of a 
 noise while we can," said Kames, taking up the 
 wine list and looking down a page ; :e you'll 
 take some champagne they keep quite decent 
 stuff here 1 " 
 
 " No, thanks," said Maud. 
 
 What would be the use of discussing with him 
 a serious subject like " The End " ? Although 
 she had talked about " The End " in much the 
 same manner herself, now that she heard it 
 pronounced in a cocksure manner by Major 
 Kames she found it crude and a little absurd. 
 That Evolution should have toiled a million 
 years in order to bring to the birth Major 
 Kames, just as he was, sitting there opposite 
 to her, seemed to Maud an insufficient motive : 
 there ought to be something more at the back of 
 it ; why, even Major Kames, not puffed out like 
 the flame of the candle, but improved into a 
 saintly spirit would be less foolish. 
 
 W T as he content with his theory that he was 
 going to be puffed out ? Apparently he was ; 
 but then he probably thought that some con- 
 siderable time would elapse before that event ; 
 he did not realise the force of the saying : 
 " Majus et minus non variant speciem." But
 
 56 TWO SINNEKS 
 
 Maud's thoughts were suddenly disturbed from 
 this argument, for a waiter was bringing dishes 
 to them. " I hope," she said, " that you don't 
 want me to eat a huge lunch ? " 
 
 " Champagne," said Kames, as if he had not 
 heard. 
 
 " I said no champagne, thanks," Maud 
 repeated. " I never drink wine at home." 
 
 " Pommery sec," said Kames. 
 
 " I can't imagine anything more absurd," 
 said Maud, " than allowing oneself to be 
 ' treated ' to champagne." 
 
 " See page three hundred and three," said 
 Kames, " in completed works of Cock-a-lorum 
 with an introduction by the Bishop of London ! 
 Waiter, bring some Apollinaris for this lady, and 
 give me a whisky and soda." 
 
 Maud heaved a fluttering sigh, and began to 
 eat the Jiors d'ceuvre in front of her. 
 
 If only the man sitting opposite to her was 
 not Major Kames, who was content that Evolu- 
 tion should have produced him just as he was 
 ripe for being puffed out ! If only he was 
 some one else, some one who had a belief, even 
 though it was an erroneous belief, in our spiritual 
 nature, or at least a hope that some " purpose " 
 lies behind this universe of sight and touch and 
 some future beyond it ! With a sudden and 
 strange pang at her heart, she remembered 
 Broughton's face, the way he looked, under his 
 straight brows, as if searching for something. 
 And he loved Stella ! Stella of all people ! 
 Imagine Stella "helping" any man; imagine
 
 TWO SINNERS 57 
 
 her looking after him ! Would she even feed 
 him properly when he came in tired from his 
 work ? Stella Stella, who was never aware of 
 what anybody round her was feeling or wanting, 
 who never saw if one was tired, or ill, or dull, or 
 unhappy ! What was Stella thinking of all the 
 time ? Was she picturing herself singing before 
 a huge audience, hearing the slow rolling thunder 
 of applause, seeing the raised faces and receiving 
 a cheque for two or three hundred pounds and 
 compliments from the Manager ? 
 
 Maud felt more than ever unhappy and 
 irritable. 
 
 Kames had been watching her all the time 
 that he was busy eating. 
 
 ' That's right," he said ; " put your teeth 
 firmly into that olive, it'll give you no end of 
 moral strength." 
 
 Maud half laughed but she also frowned. 
 Now that he was her accepted lover, his remarks 
 had become very personal that was not good 
 taste on his part but perhaps she ought to 
 have anticipated it. 
 
 A waiter at the far end of the room drew a 
 cork with great expertness, making it ring with 
 a deep, mellow, vibrating note, as if the very 
 soul of wine had suddenly spoken a word. 
 
 ' That's a jolly good sound," said Kames, 
 turning his glass round and then lifting it to his 
 lips. 
 
 " I thought you were musical," said Maud. 
 The words were out of her lips before she could 
 repress them.
 
 58 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " It isn't a pure note, of course, but it's a 
 good one," said Kames. 
 
 " It was rather splendid," said Maud, 
 beginning to be alarmed at her new-found 
 capacity for rudeness. 
 
 ' Yes, I am musical, in a way," said Kames ; 
 " I don't pretend to deny it." 
 
 " I should never have guessed you were," 
 said Maud blandly, " if I hadn't heard you play. 
 You don't look like a musician you are too 
 well dressed." 
 
 She was thankful to be able to say something 
 complimentary which was true. 
 
 " No lover of art ought to be anything but 
 well dressed," said Kames. :< The Greeks knew 
 that they knew better than to represent Apollo 
 with his hair matted and his boots laced up 
 crooked. When that great god of all the arts 
 started for Parnassus, lyre in hand, just to 
 show 'em how to do it, he wore a special robe, 
 flowing from neck to heels, and his hair tied 
 up in a knot, for all the world like a sublime 
 female." 
 
 Here Kames came to a sudden stop. 
 
 " Well, go on about Apollo," said Maud. 
 " You're becoming interesting." 
 
 " I've finished," said Kames ; " I don't get 
 inspired for long at a time." 
 
 He certainly did not. The rest of the meal 
 was mostly taken up with remarks of a purely 
 personal nature which she tried to parry. Did 
 he know that he was boring her ? She rather 
 suspected that he did know it, but that he meant
 
 TWO SINNERS 59 
 
 to take the reins into his own hand, that it was a 
 conflict of wills, and that he was testing his own 
 strength in view of the future. 
 
 After lunch Karnes insisted on going to the 
 lounge, and chose a secluded corner, where they 
 had coffee and he smoked. He chaffed her a 
 good deal about not smoking herself, and then 
 owned that he was glad that she didn't smoke 
 and that she didn't sing. 
 
 This implied a distinct criticism of Stella 
 and Maud objected to it. She began to defend 
 smoking and singing, and argued that both were 
 as suitable for women as for men. 
 
 ' Women don't know how to sing, and never 
 will," said Kames dogmatically. " Their singing 
 means nothing no more than the birds. But 
 the odd thing is that they can act why, Heaven 
 only knows." 
 
 Maud did not agree she longed to leave him 
 and all his ideas and his heavy lunches and 
 everything. Except alas, alas ! his wealth 
 and this was the first day of their engagement ! 
 
 Fancy years and years of it ! Wouldn't it be 
 far better, far happier, to be poor ? 
 
 Kames waited till he had seen the two or 
 three men who were smoking leave the lounge 
 and go out of doors. 
 
 Then he suddenly took hold of Maud's hands 
 and drew her irresistibly to him on the seat. 
 
 ' You forget that you're smoking," said Maud, 
 with a haughty exasperation. 
 
 He released one of her hands and threw his 
 cigar down.
 
 60 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " You'll have to take me just as I am, smoke 
 and all," he said. 
 
 ' You're too self-indulgent," she murmured, 
 feebly resisting. 
 
 " I'm strong so lam strongly self-indulgent. 
 I'm strong, and I'm not at all merciful." 
 
 Then putting his arms round her, he drew 
 her close, whispering, 
 
 " Now scold, scold, scold if you can."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHEN Major Kames left the Moncktons' lodgings 
 late that afternoon, he was in his most buoyant 
 mood, for Maud had, after all, been less difficult 
 than he had anticipated. He had trusted in the 
 last resort to a certain force in his personality 
 and it had proved successful. Besides, it was 
 arranged that he was to take her and Ursula 
 and Stella if she would go to see Orpenden 
 to-morrow. That looked like business. They 
 were to stay the night at Orpenden and they 
 were to return the next morning to Brighton, 
 while he went to town to choose a ring for Maud. 
 Things were going briskly. The air of the 
 Moncktons' sitting-room seemed to go on 
 vibrating with Kames 's presence after he had 
 left. Some men and women seem to belong 
 to the physical world in that vital conciliation ; 
 those who find them congenial breathe in 
 strength from their atmosphere those who are 
 out of sympathy are exhausted by it. 
 
 Maud was exhausted. Ursula found strength. 
 
 ' You haven't thought of writing to tell 
 Aunt Dorothy yet ? " asked Ursula, after a 
 long silence that followed Kames' s exit. 
 
 "No," said Maud, looking up with a startled air. 
 
 " She will be offended, Maud, if she sees it 
 first in the papers."
 
 62 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Would Lionel have already sent the announce- 
 ment to the papers ? Maud had never thought 
 of that possibility. It made the engagement 
 seem terribly real ! 
 
 " I think I should write to her at once," 
 said Ursula. ' You see she is positively our 
 only near relative all we have." 
 
 " I will write," said Maud, and she sat 
 still, with her hands idle on her lap, looking at 
 nothing. 
 
 " What was it, Ursula ? " she said suddenly, 
 tf that you and Lionel were discussing on the 
 sofa, before we went out this morning 1 ' : 
 
 " The future," said Ursula. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Maud, and her heart gave a 
 curious jump. She rose and took a fan from the 
 mantelpiece and spread it out before her face. 
 " What about the future ? " she asked. 
 
 " About my coming to you a great deal at 
 Orpenden after your marriage," said Ursula. 
 " He is full of generosity." 
 
 " Of course," said Maud quickly ; " anything 
 else would be absurd." 
 
 " Men are not always as kind to a prospective 
 sister-in-law," said Ursula. Ursula sighed, and 
 then broke the sigh off in the middle. It was 
 too late. Maud heard it. 
 
 " Lionel is kind of course," said Maud. 
 What about that little house with the palings 
 in front and the euonymus bushes behind ? 
 Was Ursula thinking of that still ? She would 
 have to live alone in it a life of solitude, 
 broken by visits to Orpenden. That is if the
 
 TWO SINNERS 63 
 
 engagement was not broken off. For a moment 
 Maud had wondered whether Aunt Dorothy might 
 ask Ursula to live with her ; but that gleam of 
 hope hardly lasted as long as the question took 
 to frame itself in Maud's mind. Aunt Dorothy 
 had always avoided having Ursula to stay with 
 her. She had been even ingenious in inventing 
 reasons why Ursula could not come, or, if she 
 came, why she couldn't stay. Aunt Dorothy 
 had slipped out of the stream of social life since 
 her husband's death, partly because she had no 
 art of entertaining and partly because she had 
 no money to spend on entertaining partly 
 because nobody could stand her dog, and she 
 and her dog were inseparable. When Maud 
 or Stella visited her, people came at least a few 
 people ; when Ursula visited Brown Street, 
 people didn't come. This fact had impressed 
 itself upon Aunt Dorothy's not very intelligent 
 mind. So there was little probability of a 
 permanent invitation for Ursula. 
 
 Maud could glance at Ursula askance from 
 her fan. Ursula was sitting in her usual manner, 
 very upright, her face composed, her iron-grey 
 hair arranged with almost elaborate care. She 
 had spoken all that afternoon calmly and cheer- 
 fully, without betraying one sign of self-con- 
 sciousness. The distress that had been in her 
 eyes last night, and the quiet sadness of this 
 morning, had gone. That one sigh had been 
 checked peremptorily. 
 
 Maud was sure that she knew what had 
 wrought this peace in Ursula's mind. Her
 
 64 TWO SINNERS 
 
 sister had been praying and had found strength 
 to put aside thoughts and fears about herself, 
 and she had put Maud and Maud's affairs, as 
 the expression goes into the hands of God ! 
 
 The artless pathos of it wrung Maud's heart. 
 What were all the consolations of the world, the 
 flesh and the devil, compared with this vision 
 of a Divine Father, to Whom all His children 
 are of supreme consequence ? If only she could 
 have that vision ! 
 
 Maud got up hurriedly from her chair, and 
 seizing a footstool, placed it at Ursula's feet. 
 Then she sat down upon it like a child and laid 
 her cheek on those faithful knees. Ursula did 
 not speak, but she laid a caressing hand on the 
 thick brown hair, and the two sisters kept a great 
 silence, while the clock on the mantelpiece ticked 
 fretfully. The silence was only broken by the 
 sound of Stella opening the door and slamming 
 it behind her. They could hear her run upstairs. 
 She came into the room gustily. 
 
 " Hullo, old girl ! " she called out with a tone 
 of breezy surprise, as if she had been at home 
 all day and Maud had suddenly returned. " So 
 you're back at last ! " 
 
 " It's you who are back," said Maud, raising 
 her head. 
 
 " I was in to lunch," said Stella airily. 
 " Had a good day ? " she questioned as she laid 
 her golf clubs on the table. 
 ' Very ! " said Maud. 
 
 " Did you tell him how vexed I was not to 
 have seen him ? "
 
 TWO SINNEKS 65 
 
 " I said everything I ought to have said," 
 replied Maud. " At least, I believe I forgot 
 but of course he understood." 
 
 Stella was wearing a dark-blue golf coat and 
 skirt and a blue cap. She looked so handsome 
 and so full of material prosperity that Maud 
 secretly wondered why Lionel had not instinc- 
 tively preferred her. Stella's want of method 
 would not have mattered to a very wealthy man 
 it would matter to a poor man ! Stella would 
 never alter. The artistic temperament, whether 
 it goes with ability or without ability, is essen- 
 tially a solemn temperament it takes itself 
 seriously. Its own proportions seem gigantic 
 to itself. 
 
 " Can you come to Orpenden with us to- 
 morrow ? " asked Ursula gently. ' We shall 
 stay the night there and come back early the 
 next day." 
 
 Maud looked hard at the carpet. How 
 splendid Ursula was how loyal, how pro- 
 tecting ! 
 
 Stella's blue eyes looked hard and brilliant. 
 She laughed. ' You're not losing any time ; 
 yes, I'll come with you if there's room. When 
 you're married, Maud, you'll have to give dances 
 on my account. I shall expect a lot from you 
 when you're wealthy. Keep your mind easy on 
 that score," and she walked towards the door, 
 leaving her clubs on the table. 
 
 " Your clubs, Stella," said Ursula. 
 
 Stella came back and took them up. " I 
 was only joking, Maud, of course. The only 
 
 F
 
 66 TWO SINNERS 
 
 thing I care for in the world is to be personally 
 distinguished by my own brains or " and 
 here she looked down at Maud with an odd ex- 
 pression " to help some one else to become 
 distinguished." 
 
 Stella felt the righteousness of her attitude 
 very keenly as she went out of the room, clatter- 
 ing her golf clubs. It would do Maud good to 
 be reminded that, though she was marrying a 
 wealthy person, she was not marrying a distin- 
 guished person. George Broughton had more 
 distinction in his little finger than Major Kames 
 had in his whole person ; besides George was a 
 gentleman. 
 
 Stella was not sure whether she had made a 
 mistake in promising to go to Orpenden. She 
 was full of a keen curiosity to see Orpenden 
 Orpenden, that she might have had herself, 
 if she had made the least effort ! Her own 
 future home would be very different ; and here 
 Stella's thought sped ahead into the future. 
 She became speculative. How far would it be 
 possible to utilise Aunt Dorothy and Aunt 
 Dorothy's house ? She imagined herself living 
 in a very charming though small flat in town, 
 but giving her parties at Brown Street. 
 
 " Lady Dorothy Broughton and Mrs. George 
 Broughton At Home." 
 
 She would do all the arranging and all the 
 inviting, most ably and economically and Aunt 
 Dorothy would pay. Luncheons cost very little 
 if you only bring brains to the aid of them. If 
 you have something very distinctive the sort
 
 TWO SINNERS 67 
 
 of thing the artistic woman hits upon by 
 instinct that answers far better than mere 
 vulgar excess of things that any shop could 
 provide you with. 
 
 Stella looked round her own bedroom. The 
 toilet-table was heaped with a tangled mess of 
 articles and dirty hair-brushes. On the mantel- 
 piece were dismal bottles, some nearly empty, 
 some half full. The necks of one or two were 
 coated with a sort of fur or moss ; it was difficult 
 for the unscientific mind to decide whether it 
 was animal or vegetable. Two drawers of a small 
 chest-of-drawers were crammed to bursting while 
 the bottom drawer was empty. The wardrobe 
 door was never closed, because it is easier to 
 leave a door open than to shut it, and the many 
 articles of clothing hanging from the hooks within 
 swelled out to a gigantic size and also trailed 
 over the threshold on to the floor. Every chair 
 was piled with Stella's possessions. Cardboard 
 boxes protruded from under the bed. On the 
 bed was scattered everything that Stella had 
 worn yesterday, and she flung her golf clubs on 
 the top of them because it was easier (at the 
 moment) to keep them upstairs than to go out 
 of her way to take them downstairs and put 
 them on their proper hook in the hall. 
 
 Looking round her bedroom, now, as she 
 flung off her cap and coat, she pictured to herself 
 the delightful room she meant to have in the 
 future, when she was her own mistress and could 
 take matters really into her own hands and not 
 be at the mercy of lodging-house keepers, and
 
 68 TWO SINNEKS 
 
 the rather provoking red-tapiness of Ursula. 
 " In perfect freedom is perfect beauty," said 
 Stella to herself. She would have pink curtains. 
 Orpenden would be larger, but nothing like so 
 truly artistic. 
 
 So possessed was Stella's mind with her own 
 gilded dreams, that she met Major Kames on 
 the following morning without that sensation 
 of " shock " that she had dreaded and from 
 which she had shrunk the day before. She 
 found herself able to meet his first greeting 
 almost calmly. She had her future before her 
 waiting for her all in good time. She did not 
 even grumble because she had to sit the wrong 
 way, side by side with Lionel Kames, in the 
 landaulet. After all, it was better sitting like 
 that than if she had sat facing him and seeing 
 his eyes fixed on Maud all the time. Even if 
 you have given up some man you rather liked, 
 it is a little painful to see him make love to some 
 one else. She was in such good spirits that she 
 even chaffed Kames for possessing a large house, 
 when women like themselves were living in a hut. 
 She said that she was certain Maud would 
 degenerate she saw signs of it already. In 
 fact she made much cheerful talk as they sped 
 along high roads on their way to Orpenden. 
 
 But when at last, after seventy miles lay 
 behind them in the dim grey distance, they 
 passed through a little unspoiled Surrey village 
 and slowed at some massive iron gates, she 
 became silent. The Moncktons had once lived 
 in a house like this : but that was a hundred
 
 TWO SINNERS 69 
 
 years ago and no member of the family had 
 had the energy or the ability to win back the 
 lost heirloom. It was now in the possession of 
 a noble brewer. 
 
 The ear rolled smoothly up a long avenue 
 of chestnuts and stood before a fine Elizabethan 
 house, restored, but not spoiled ; a dignified 
 place, full of memories none concerned with the 
 family of Kames ! 
 
 The ludicrousness of the situation struck 
 Maud irresistibly. She glanced at Stella at 
 Ursula. Both looked solemn. 
 
 ' Welcome ! " said Kames, who got out of the 
 car with joyful alacrity. His eyes searched for 
 Maud's, though he presented his hand to Ursula. 
 
 Maud laughed. 
 
 "Is it good enough for you ? " whispered 
 Kames, following her closely up the shallow 
 flight of steps. 
 
 " Oh, much too good," she said, smiling very 
 much. 
 
 They entered the great hall, solemn and 
 dusky in that February afternoon. Up in the 
 gallery the silent portraits peered over at the 
 intruders. There was still a glint of colour in 
 the emblazoned arms in the great mullioned 
 windows, while below, on the hearth, a fierce 
 red fire threw a lurid tint over the rugs and over 
 the polished floor. 
 
 " Are there any ghosts here ? " asked Maud, 
 
 ' Lots of 'em," said Kames. 
 
 '' The spiritual failures, I suppose," said 
 Maud ; " members of the old stock who haven't
 
 70 TWO SINNERS 
 
 succeeded in stepping properly into the next 
 world and are hanging on the threshold, not 
 quite human, yet not quite spirit still interested 
 in Orpenden." 
 
 " Just as you like," said Kames. " I'm not 
 particular. Are you ready for tea, Ursula ? ' : 
 
 Tea was spread on a round table within the 
 glow of the fire. 
 
 Perhaps it was Stella's badly concealed envy 
 that gradually turned Maud's amusement into a 
 sort of condescending appreciation. 
 
 Orpenden was as beautiful a house as Maud 
 had ever seen and Lionel did not praise it, nor 
 did he tell them the price of anything, nor make 
 any exasperating remarks. It was evident that 
 the servants were fond of him. Even Stella 
 observed this reluctantly. 
 
 '' Ursula," whispered Maud to her sister as 
 they wandered upstairs through the great bed- 
 rooms, " if this is to be my home it must be 
 yours, too. I wouldn't be here under any other 
 condition." 
 
 Ursula shook her head, though she pressed 
 her sister's arm tenderly. " Oh, no, dear, 
 married people should never be burdened with 
 an intruder ! " 
 
 " Intruder ! " How little Ursula understood ! 
 Why, Maud would be thankful for an intruder. 
 
 " I couldn't possibly live here," said Maud, 
 no longer in a whisper, but in a very low voice, 
 " unless you are constantly here too." 
 
 After dinner, in the drawing-room, Stella 
 made her way straight to the piano and opened it.
 
 TWO SINNERS 71 
 
 Then she examined all the music till Kames 
 came in. 
 
 " Are you waiting for an accompaniment ? " 
 he asked amicably, seating himself at the piano. 
 Stella's dimples deepened with satisfaction. Maud 
 had only once heard Kames play and that was 
 on the momentous occasion when Stella sang to 
 him. 
 
 " Can't you sing an old song one of Grieg's, 
 ' Ich liebe Dich ' ? " asked Kames, glancing round 
 at Stella. Whether he had ever guessed Stella's 
 intentions towards himself, Maud did not know, 
 but wealthy bachelors are not usually slow at 
 drawing flattering inferences about themselves. 
 Whether he guessed or not, he had not shown 
 himself as anxious to conciliate Stella as he had 
 been to win over Ursula. But just now, his 
 thick, strong, amiable features wore a smile 
 half-indulgent, half-humorous. 
 
 Stella could sing the song rather ; and 
 Kames, after playing a prelude of his own, struck 
 into the song. 
 
 Stella had brought her blue satin dress with 
 her her favourite ; it did her more justice than 
 any other she had ever had. She was wearing 
 it now, and she stood full of happy expectation. 
 She could imagine the room, full of a well-dressed 
 audience, and it was to this imaginary audience 
 that she sang her high, strong soprano filling 
 the room, more than filling it. She laid great 
 emphasis on the word " Du," thereby, as she 
 thought, expressing a great emotion. 
 
 When the last note died away, she stood
 
 72 TWO SINNEHS 
 
 waiting for some word of approval. The first 
 time she had sung to Kames he had not shown 
 any particular appreciation but perhaps he had 
 not realised her powers ! 
 
 Ursula was standing near ; her figure was 
 erect, but her face was bent a little. Maud had 
 remained at the farther end of the room, by 
 the door, and had sunk on to a couch, out of 
 sight. 
 
 "Very nicely warbled," said Kames, still 
 at the piano. " And you make it quite clear 
 that ' Du ' is somebody or other." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Stella, her voice 
 sounding a little sharp. 
 
 " Look here, Stella, as your future brother- 
 in-law and your fervent well-wisher, I'm going 
 to give you a tip that is worth its weight in 
 gold." 
 
 Stella's face had become fixed, and her blue 
 eyes looked like beads of bright turquoise, 
 brighter and more living than the turquoise 
 earrings. 
 
 " Really," she said ; " well, what is it ? " 
 
 ' Your voice isn't so bad, and you produce it 
 properly and when a pretty woman with jolly 
 hair and blue eyes gets up and jerks her earrings 
 and opens her mouth and makes a harmless noise, 
 she is bound to please, if she can get into the 
 music halls but in private life it's different 
 you understand ? " 
 
 " I'm listening," said Stella icily. " You're 
 very polite." 
 
 " But you must remember," said Kames,
 
 TWO SINNERS 73 
 
 continuing his own train of thought and talking 
 over the piano-keys with a much more serious 
 expression in his face than he usually wore 
 " you must remember that in respectable society 
 music doesn't exist games are what they care 
 about ; so if you want to make 'em listen to you 
 for a few minutes, you've got to make yourself 
 very distinctive. I'm telling the wretched truth, 
 for your own sake." 
 
 " But there is the serious world of music," 
 said Stella " you seem to forget that." 
 
 :( There are serious musicians," said Kames, 
 " but the public who go to the orthodox concert- 
 rooms are mostly women, and they want to 
 hear rubbish : what they want is the sentiment 
 of the boudoir tinged with religion they want 
 angels to bring them bouquets, lovers, babies, 
 and gowns from Paquin ; and the serious 
 musician has got to sing this deuced seriously." 
 
 Stella drew a profound breath. She was 
 amazed and also puzzled. 
 
 " Anyhow, what was wrong with the way I 
 sang that song ? " she said impatiently. ' You 
 seem to be a professional critic." 
 
 " It was all wrong," said Kames. " First 
 of all, get out of your mind the idea that you 
 can make anything dramatic by emphasising a 
 word* Du,' ' Du,' ' Du mein Gedanke,' etc., 
 etc. that's not art." 
 
 " And pray what is art ? I mean your idea 
 of art, of course." 
 
 " Now, I want to help you," said Kames, 
 in his bluff rapid voice ; " I'm going to show you
 
 74 TWO SINNERS 
 
 how to sing ' Ich Hebe Dich.' What voice I've 
 got is ruined by smoking but it'll do for the 
 purpose." 
 
 Stella laughed outright. What sublime con- 
 ceit the man had ! yes, his conceit was positively 
 sublime. ' Well," she said, " you do amuse 
 me ! Yes. Do sing it." 
 
 Maud, from her distant corner, could see 
 Stella's face distinctly, she could see how deeply 
 piqued she was ; Kames was not visible, he 
 was hidden behind some palms. Ursula was 
 now sitting near the fire, her head bent, deep in 
 her own thoughts, waiting for the song. 
 
 He played the preclude again in his strong 
 though subdued manner, and began. 
 
 His voice was in extraordinary contrast to 
 his powerful physique ; it was rather husky and 
 without much strength. And yet in spite of 
 that, the virile power with which he breathed 
 out that brief passionate love-song made Maud 
 tremble in her remote corner, and made Stella 
 desperate, convinced, and yet not convinced 
 conscious that this was art, and that it was 
 different from hers, and yet indignant that it 
 should be different ; almost ready to deny 
 that it was. And above this conflict of her 
 vanity and power of self-deception, with her 
 primitive instinct for truth, was another emotion, 
 almost as poignant, though for many days she 
 had fought hard to suppress it the misery that 
 that song was not sung for her but for Maud ! 
 The rush of self-pitying tears was beyond her 
 control. She tried to keep them back, but one
 
 TWO SINNERS 75 
 
 heavy tear rolled down her cheek and dropped 
 upon her blue satin dress. 
 
 Maud saw and understood. She rose noise- 
 lessly from her corner, moved to the door and 
 went into the silent hall. The great high 
 mullioned windows now looked solid against the 
 darkness of the night outside. The portraits 
 were dim, the faces looking white and wistfully 
 out at her. Within the glow of the fire, Maud 
 cowered down into a chair, and hiding her 
 face in her hands, shivered from head to foot in 
 that luxurious warmth.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 " I'VE told the man to wait for a quarter of an 
 hour," said Kames, as he entered the Moncktons' 
 sitting-room about a week after their visit to 
 Orpenden. " The train doesn't go till three 
 o'clock, and ten minutes will take us to the 
 station." He was looking round the room as if 
 expecting to see Maud come in. 
 
 " Maud hasn't quite finished packing," said 
 Ursula. 
 
 " Oh," said Kames, moving about the room 
 restlessly. ' What about Lady Dorothy ? Is 
 she so tremendously devoted to Maud that she 
 is in such a hurry to have her up there ? " 
 
 As Kames spoke he stopped by a couch near 
 the windows. He threw himself unceremoniously 
 upon it, and laid his head back on the cushions 
 and closed his eyes. 
 
 Ursula looked at Kames's face, his heavy 
 eyelids. She looked at his short thick nose, 
 his strong chin, his thick symmetrical lips now 
 slightly open as if he was breathing heavily. 
 From the very first he had absorbed Ursula into 
 his life, almost forcing her to give him sympathy, 
 and in return treating her with a curiously 
 warm caressing domineering appropriation, such 
 as she had never experienced in her life before, 
 and which she could not resist. But this very
 
 TWO SINNERS 77 
 
 fascination that Kames exerted over her only 
 added to the anxiety with which she anticipated 
 the marriage. Maud did not love him she 
 would make him suffer Maud would suffer 
 herself. Unhappiness was inevitable for both 
 of them. 
 
 It is only in youth that a man mistakes his 
 pensioner for his friend, or believes that a 
 coryphee makes a faithful or refined companion 
 in her old age. Kames being, by constitution, 
 sceptical and humorous, had steered his way 
 through the crowd of parasites who spring up 
 in the path of wealthy young men, and had kept 
 himself clear of all permanent obligations and 
 entanglements. Now, at the threshold of forty, 
 he longed to enter the Hall of Domestic Peace 
 and Love ; he wanted the incorruptible Virtues 
 (well dressed) to bring him a footstool to put 
 his feet upon, while he sat quaffing good wine 
 from the golden bowl of life, and making up his 
 mind to spend the rest of his days in the accom- 
 plishment of civic duties. 
 
 When he threw himself on the couch he meant 
 Ursula to see that he was worried and feel dis- 
 tressed on his account. She did see it, and stood 
 looking at him uneasily. 
 
 " Aunt Dorothy is almost our only relative," 
 she said, in apology, but as she spoke she was 
 painfully aware that what appeared to be Aunt 
 Dorothy's excessive eagerness to see Maud was 
 really Maud's execs, .ve eagerness to get away 
 from Brighton. Was Maud tormented by a 
 vague feverish delusive hope of lightening the
 
 situation ; of finding some solution to an in- 
 soluble difficulty if she could be free from 
 Kames for a day or two ? Was that Maud's 
 plan? 
 
 " As the old lady doesn't want me to turn 
 up till to-morrow I shall spend the night at 
 Orpenden," said Kames, without opening his 
 eyes. " Come here, Ursula, thou blessed among 
 women, and stroke my hair ; I've got a slight 
 headache." 
 
 " Lionel, you are spoiled," said Ursula, but 
 she slowly came up to the couch and stood 
 stiffly behind him, wondering what she ought 
 to do. 
 
 " Run your fingers through my hair it's 
 deucedly thick hair for a man who is nearly 
 forty," said Kames. " Soothe me and make 
 me a Christian." 
 
 Ursula, who had never in her life touched a 
 man's head before, was amazed at finding herself 
 passing her fingers through his dark hair, and 
 there was silence for a few moments. 
 
 " Put more devil into it, my dear girl," said 
 Kames ; " you know what I mean." 
 
 "I'm afraid I don't," said Ursula. " Do 
 you mean do it harder ? " 
 
 " No, I mean put some ' nip,' some so-called 
 magnetism, into it." 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't any," said Ursula 
 humbly, though she laughed. 
 
 Kames opened his eyes, stretched a hand 
 over his head, took both her hands, slapped his 
 own head with them gently once or twice, put
 
 TWO SINNERS 79 
 
 them against his face and kissed them, and then 
 got up from the couch. He went close to the 
 windows, looked down at his motor standing 
 outside, and then yawned. 
 
 The door opened and Maud came in dressed 
 for her journey, followed by Stella. The ex- 
 pression on Kames's face changed instantly. 
 His uneasiness had gone in a moment ; he was 
 now fully alert and cheerful. 
 
 " Say good-bye," he said to Maud. " Stella, 
 good-bye ; I suppose I shan't see you again for 
 a few days. Good-bye, Ursula " and here he 
 drew her very gravely apart and, bending down, 
 whispered in her ear : :< There is something I 
 must say to you." 
 
 ' What is it ? " asked Ursula, looking up at 
 him through her glasses with a rapid frightened 
 look. 
 
 " Ursula," he said solemnly, " during my 
 absence, don't do anything that you would be 
 ashamed to tell me of on my return." 
 
 Ursula pushed him away with an exclamation, 
 and laughed. 
 
 ' You are the most extraordinary person," 
 she said. She caught Maud's eyes : they were 
 fixed on her with a curious expression what 
 did it mean ? 
 
 " Good-bye, dear," she said, putting her arms 
 round Maud. Why was there such a feeling of 
 vague disaster between the two sisters, such a 
 feeling of wrench, as if there lay between them 
 some final separation ? Maud was only going 
 away for a week.
 
 80 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Maud laid her head for a moment on Ursula's 
 neck, and then she kissed her, said " good- 
 bye " huskily and walked out of the room 
 followed by Kames. Ursula and Stella followed 
 them and stood at the open door, watching them 
 get into the motor. 
 
 Maud waved her hand, Kames lifted his hat, 
 and they were gone. 
 
 How dark and narrow the stairs seemed to 
 Stella ! The sitting-room was blank and lifeless. 
 From the windows the sea looked the usual 
 dismal grey of that chalky coast, the water 
 disturbed and untidy, without beauty or meaning. 
 She caught sight of Ursula's face as her half- 
 sister came back into the sitting-room and closed 
 the door behind her. Stella rarely noticed how 
 people's faces looked, but she was struck by 
 Ursula's just then. Did she too love that big, 
 burly, foolish, clever, forcible man or was she 
 only regretting Maud ? And the tragedy of it 
 was that Maud, as she drove side by side with 
 him to the station, was ashamed when he pulled 
 her hand out of her muff and pressed it in both 
 of his ashamed, because she was becoming a 
 slave to his touch, and yet felt no respect for 
 him, no admiration, no sympathy. 
 
 " If you like to change your mind and let me 
 motor you to town, it's not too late," said Kames. 
 " We can wire from the station and I shall have 
 time to get down to Orpenden afterwards." 
 
 " No," said Maud quickly ; " please don't 
 suggest such a thing. I would rather go as I 
 usually do. Why make a fuss ? "
 
 TWO SINNERS 81 
 
 " It's you that makes a fuss," said Kames, 
 l< with your damned silly preference for travelling 
 in a third-class carriage along with washer- 
 women, when there's a motor at your very door 
 waiting for you. Try and be reasonable, though 
 you are a woman." 
 
 " I am reasonable," said Maud, trying to 
 draw her hand away. " I am poor, and I travel 
 with poor people." 
 
 " Well, I will give way on this occasion," 
 said Kames. " But don't forget, Maud, that 
 the first thing you have promised to discuss 
 with your Aunt Dorothy is the date of our 
 marriage. I will let you off till May but it 
 mustn't be later ; there's nothing in the wide 
 world for you to do, or for you to get. Come 
 just as you are. For the matter of that, there 
 isn't any reason why we shouldn't be married 
 in three weeks ; you're not a child neither am 
 I, by all the Powers." 
 
 '' I will talk it over with Aunt Dorothy," 
 said Maud. 
 
 When they got out at the station she took 
 out her little purse. ' Will you see my luggage 
 labelled," she said, " while I get my ticket ? " 
 
 He caught the purse in his hand. " I will 
 get your ticket," he said. " You go and see 
 your luggage labelled." 
 
 Maud dared not dispute before the porter 
 and Kames' s chauffeur ; she was very angry, but 
 she said nothing. 
 
 When Kames joined her, she saw him hand 
 a first-class ticket to the luggage inspector. 
 
 G
 
 82 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " Third-class," she said " I am travelling 
 third." 
 
 " First-class," said the inspector, and labelled 
 her baggage. 
 
 Maud could have cried with vexation. 
 ' Will you give me my purse back, please ? " 
 she said, as they walked along the platform. He 
 gave it her back and she opened it. He had not 
 touched the contents. 
 
 " I owe you for the ticket," she said. " I 
 shouldn't have spent the money on first-class if 
 I could have helped it, but you forced me to. 
 Perhaps half a sovereign will be enough " she 
 held out the coin. 
 
 " Don't play the fool, Maud," said Kames 
 bluntly. " Here's a carriage ; get into it, my 
 dear." He took her arm and helped her in. 
 She sank down into a corner sullenly, and looked 
 straight before her with the air of an offended 
 potentate. 
 
 Kames called for a f ootwarmer ; he arranged 
 her rug over her knees. 
 
 " I shall see that nobody gets in with you, 
 and you go straight through to Victoria without 
 a stop," he said. 
 
 Maud argued angrily to herself over and 
 over again that his real reason for forcing her 
 to travel first was because he wanted to have the 
 last moment alone with her a selfish reason. 
 
 1 You think you are pleasing me," she said, 
 smiling icily, " but you are not. Do you think 
 I don't infinitely prefer the company of gover- 
 nesses and charwomen in a third-class carriage,
 
 TWO SINNERS 83 
 
 to the probability of being boxed up with some 
 wife or daughter of a wealthy Brighton trades- 
 man ? " She meant to stab him. He did not 
 seem to feel any sting in what she said, nor to 
 imagine any reference possible to himself. 
 
 ' Whatever you have done in the past," he 
 said, " you can't possibly travel third now." 
 Maud was about to make a retort, but the guard, 
 passing, shut the carriage-door. Then two or 
 three people came up ; after glancing in, and 
 then looking at Kames, they got the door of 
 the next carriage opened for them. The guard 
 whistled. 
 
 " Now ! " she repeated, leaning out of the 
 open window " Why now ? " She held her 
 hand out stiffly so that he should understand 
 that she did not intend to offer him any warmer 
 good-bye. 
 
 " I couldn't allow my future wife to travel 
 anything but first," he said. The train began 
 to move. She laughed a little. 
 
 " Do you think that I shall in any way 
 become more refined or more cultured by 
 becoming your wife ? " She spoke out of the 
 window. She had hit him now ! He looked 
 surprised, and then his eyes contracted with 
 displeasure. As she was swept beyond him 
 she could see him standing on the platform, 
 raising his hat, his solid features set, his mouth 
 rigid. He had not said " good-bye." 
 
 She sank back in her corner and closed her 
 eyes. She was miserable, but she was sure 
 that she was in the right. He was far too
 
 84 TWO SINNERS 
 
 self-confident and too self-satisfied. It was not 
 until she was half-way to London that it occurred 
 to her that he might be seriously offended. 
 What would he do if he was seriously offended ? 
 She took the glove off her left hand, and looked 
 at her engagement-ring. It was not the usual 
 diamond hoop : on the band of gold were two 
 magnificent diamonds looped together with a 
 rope of seed pearls. What would he do if he 
 was seriously offended ? 
 
 Maud began to be uneasy. Why had she, 
 of all times, chosen to rebuke him, however 
 righteously, when she had no opportunity of 
 finding out whether he was likely to resent it 
 and perhaps to make her suffer for it ? Here 
 she was shut up in that railway-carriage helpless 
 and unable to do anything. Suppose he were 
 not to turn up to-morrow at Aunt Dorothy's ! 
 
 The more Maud thought, the more clear it 
 became to her that she had behaved in a justi- 
 fiable, but a very imprudent way. She must 
 wire to him the moment she arrived at Victoria. 
 What should she wire ? She had neither pencil 
 nor paper. She must make up the sentence in 
 her mind and get it by heart. 
 
 After much consideration she decided to 
 write : 
 
 " Shall have no peace of mind till I see you 
 again. MAUD." 
 
 Surely that would heal the wound she had 
 made ! It was only five minutes to the hour of 
 arrival at Victoria ; in five minutes she would 
 be able to write and send off the wire, and he
 
 TWO SINNEES 85 
 
 would find it waiting for him when he reached 
 Orpenden. 
 
 She stood up long before it was necessary and 
 folded up the rug and put her things together. 
 She was still standing when the train glided 
 into Victoria. There on the platform was old 
 Jackson to meet her. Instead of the worried 
 and slightly wounded look he usually wore when 
 he had to meet the " young ladies " and help 
 them out of a third-class carriage, he wore the 
 air of dignity that most became him. He saw 
 her at once and hurried forward. Maud could 
 have burst out laughing at the solemn respect 
 with which he saluted her. She was now, 
 evidently, a much more important person than 
 she had been before. 
 
 " I must send off a wire, Jackson," she said ; 
 " I shall only be five minutes." 
 
 It was with a sensation of intense relief that 
 she saw the clerk at the telegraph-office read 
 her wire and apparently understand it. He did 
 not even assure her that there was no place in 
 the British Isles called Orpenden. He accepted 
 it without a murmur. 
 
 Once settled in Aunt Dorothy's aged 
 brougham she found herself staring blankly 
 out of the window at the dismal view of Hyde 
 Park on a February afternoon, not thinking 
 of the leafless trees and the sodden grass, but 
 electrified by a sudden fear. Suppose he wasn't 
 on his way to Orpenden ? Suppose he was so 
 angry that he had decided to go somewhere 
 else ?
 
 86 TWO SINNERS 
 
 He might possibly have gone back to Princes 
 Hotel, and stayed the night there. Then he 
 wouldn't get the telegram ! She must wire 
 again and to Princes Hotel. The carriage 
 was now turning up Brown Street. Maud would 
 write a wire the moment she got in. If only 
 the carriage would go quicker ! How intolerable 
 a horse-carriage was after the swiftness of a 
 motor-car ! 
 
 " There's no wire or anything for me ? " 
 she demanded the moment that she was inside 
 the dark London hall. 
 
 There was nothing for her. Her ladyship 
 was in the drawing-room, expecting her. Maud 
 went upstairs. She entered the familiar room, 
 saw the chintz-covered chairs, the water-colours 
 she knew by heart, the confusion of knick-knacks 
 on little tables, the photographs ; and drowning 
 her greeting and also her aunt's voice came 
 deafening screams of recognition from Kiddie, 
 the dog, whose general nervous excitement was 
 raised to fever-heat by the conviction that all 
 strong selfish emotions ought to be freely and 
 fearlessly expressed. This philosophy of personal 
 development had been enthusiastically instilled 
 into that small canine pet by his mistress, Lady 
 Dorothy Broughton ; it is a philosophy that 
 appeals straightaway to the mind of the toy 
 Pomeranian, and does not need the authority 
 of Nietzsche. 
 
 " Before I even kiss you," cried Maud, putting 
 her arms round the neck of a short, dark, elderly 
 lady with grey piled-up hair and a beaked nose
 
 TWO SINNERS 87 
 
 like Ursula's " Before I even kiss you I must 
 rush off a wire." 
 
 " My dear," shouted Aunt Dorothy, trying 
 to raise her voice above the noise Kiddie was 
 making " You are in love ! "
 
 " Now, Maud," said Lady Dorothy, " now that 
 the wire has been sent off and your mind is at 
 rest, I want to know all about Major Kames." 
 
 Maud had taken off her veil, and seated 
 herself ready to pour out tea. Lady Dorothy 
 sat down in a large easy-chair near to her, and 
 held Kiddie on her lap. The old familiar 
 drawing-room was full of lights and shadows 
 cast by the flickering fire and breaking the 
 premature dusk of a London afternoon. Brown 
 velvet curtains shut off the back drawing-room, 
 and these curtains were never drawn aside 
 unless Lady Dorothy had one of her rare dull 
 dinner-parties or At Homes, to which some of her 
 old cronies gathered. On those occasions the 
 drawing-room was stretched to its full size. 
 It was full of incongruous furniture and miscel- 
 laneous chairs, ornaments of no beauty and not 
 much value, fatiguing photographs of friends, 
 cushions made of colours that did not blend 
 well ; and yet the whole effect was of space and 
 comfort and brightness. 
 
 " Where is Kiddie's cup 1 " asked Maud. 
 " Is this it ? " and she touched a white cup 
 ornamented with pink roses. 
 
 ' Yes," said Lady Dorothy, " that's his." 
 
 Kiddie barked two or three times with that
 
 TWO SINNERS 89 
 
 ear-piercing quality of noise peculiar to small 
 hysterical dogs. 
 
 " Did he break the old one ? " asked Maud. 
 
 " It wasn't his fault," said Lady Dorothy. 
 " Jackson put it out of his reach, poor angel, 
 and he broke it trying to get at it. Jackson 
 doesn't really care for the pet. You remember 
 he never did. He looks after him merely as a 
 duty : he doesn't throw his heart and soul into 
 what he does for him what a difference it 
 makes ! And it's such a pity it just prevents 
 Jackson from being a real help to me. If people 
 only would realise what they might be." 
 
 ' When did you buy the cup ? " asked Maud. 
 
 " A week ago. It took my fancy : simple 
 little roses." 
 
 ;< It doesn't go very well with the service," 
 said Maud, repressing her smile. 
 
 " Kiddie doesn't know that," said Lady 
 Dorothy, looking sharply into Maud's face and 
 winking both her eyes. 
 
 " No, he doesn't," said Maud. " He's merci- 
 fully spared." 
 
 ' Well, tell me, child, about Major Kames ; 
 I am dying to hear everything," said Aunt 
 Dorothy. 
 
 Maud filled Kiddie's cup with milk, put a 
 dash of tea in it, and placed it close to the edge 
 of the tray. 
 
 " The cup is a very bad match, Aunt 
 Dorothy," she said. 
 
 " I really oughtn't to have bought it," 
 returned her aunt. " I thought I could carry
 
 90 TWO SINNERS 
 
 the colour of the service in my mind, and at 
 the time I really thought it went well with the 
 cup, but it didn't. I had meant to tell Jackson 
 to give me a cup of the service to take with me 
 to the shop, but at the last moment I forgot. 
 There are always so many things to think of. 
 What I really ought to have done was to have 
 sent the cup back, but unfortunately Kiddie 
 was present when I unfastened the paper, and 
 he saw the cup. After that I scarcely liked to 
 take it away. You see he understood at once 
 that it was his, and one can't explain everything. 
 One is to a certain extent on one's honour with 
 a dumb animal." 
 
 " He's not dumb," said Maud. 
 ' Well, he can't take in complicated argument, 
 and one doesn't want to destroy a dog's con- 
 fidence, and so that is the history of the cup. 
 Now, about Major Kames ! I'm anxious to 
 know how and when and where and why, and 
 everything about him." 
 
 " Kiddie will guess everything," said Maud, 
 " when he sees him, don't you think so, Aunt 
 Dorothy ? " 
 
 " I'm sure of it," said Aunt Dorothy. " He 
 never makes a mistake." 
 
 " I wish I had Kiddie's insight into cha- 
 racter," said Maud. " I always make mistakes." 
 ' Yes, but Kiddie is nearer to the Great 
 Fount of Nature. He divines," said Lady 
 Dorothy. Then, after she had quieted down 
 from the sublimity of her remark, she looked 
 as if she were going to say again : " And now
 
 TWO SINNERS 91 
 
 about Major Kames." So Maud said hastily : 
 " So Kiddie was ill the other day ? " 
 
 " He was ill," replied Lady Dorothy, caressing 
 her dog. ' The Vet said he had taken a chill. 
 It was during the first day of that severe frost 
 and, of course, his thick jacket was being cleaned. 
 I told Jackson not to let it go till February was 
 over however, he's well now. Well, dear, do 
 let us talk about Major Kames. I can't tell 
 you what a surprise it was to me. I hadn't the 
 slightest suspicion there was anything ' : 
 
 " Oh, please give me Kiddie's cup for his 
 second supply," said Maud. " I was quite 
 forgetting. You never told me if the Vet ordered 
 massage. That is, I believe, the latest thing for 
 internal inflammation, though I should have 
 thought it would have made it much worse. 
 What did he order ? " 
 
 Lady Dorothy put down her own cup. 
 " Complete rest," she said solemnly. 
 
 " Complete rest," repeated Maud. 
 
 " And I told him that it was impossible to 
 give Kiddie complete rest, the darling's brain is 
 so active." 
 
 Kiddie's second cup being placed before him, 
 he lapped it up languidly, and then turned his 
 face towards Maud and stared hard at her. 
 
 ' What is it, darling ? " murmured Lady 
 Dorothy. " He knows that something has hap- 
 pened. He saw it the moment you came into 
 the room. I never saw anything like the insight 
 the dog has. Does Kiddie know all about its 
 cousin Maud-y-Maud ? I shall be very much
 
 92 TWO SINNERS 
 
 interested to see how he behaves when he sees 
 Major Kames to-morrow. It will be a real test." 
 
 Maud raised her eyebrows and went on with 
 her tea. 
 
 " Do you mean that I ought to break off the 
 engagement if Kiddie doesn't like him ? " she 
 asked, after a moment's pause. 
 
 Lady Dorothy laughed. " Not quite that 
 but, of course, I count on Kiddie's taking a fancy 
 to him. Well, Maud, he has given you a charm- 
 ing ring. I didn't notice it till this moment. 
 He has begun well. When my poor nephew 
 George marries he won't be able to afford any 
 trinkets," and Lady Dorothy sighed, and looked 
 as if she were thinking deeply. 
 
 " Does he come to see you often ? " asked 
 Maud, in a low voice. 
 
 " Pretty often," said Lady Dorothy. " He 
 is a dear good boy ; he has only two faults 
 he isn't kind to Kiddie, and he doesn't think 
 enough of his own future. I understand that there 
 is no money in a University career, but he would 
 go in for it whereas he had a splendid offer 
 of business when he took his degree at Cambridge. 
 Austin has all the money and does the gentleman. 
 George knew he would have practically nothing, 
 and he might have been at his age, twenty- eight, 
 rolling in money as the saying is ; but instead 
 of this he goes in for science, and talks as if we'd 
 nothing in this wide world to do but to find out 
 what we're made of " 
 
 " It is rather interesting, don't you think ? " 
 said Maud,
 
 TWO SINNERS 93 
 
 "No, I don't," said Lady Dorothy. "I 
 would far rather not know. Well, you haven't 
 told me yet anything about Major Kames. He's 
 at present merely a name to me. You didn't 
 say in your letter even whether he was old or 
 young." 
 
 ' What do you call young ? " asked Maud, 
 her voice of interest changing to one of lassitude 
 in a moment. " For instance, Kiddie is only 
 six years old, but he isn't young." 
 
 " He's past the verge of middle age I 
 suppose," said her Aunt Dorothy. And this 
 expression, middle age, struck a note of sadness 
 upon the strings of Lady Dorothy's heart. 
 Dogs' lives are so much shorter than the lives 
 of human beings. They come and they go 
 swiftly middle age is succeeded rapidly by a 
 year or two of what might be called elderly life, 
 and then the grey hairs come upon the once red 
 brows and chin, the time of bounce and frolic 
 is over, the walk is slow, the steps uncertain, 
 and as old age gathers its months together, 
 death comes at last and what after death ? 
 Lady Dorothy was half inclined to favour 
 the idea of transmigration of souls. A good 
 dog might become a man in the next life a 
 thoroughly respectable man of no particular 
 talent or social position. 
 
 " My difficulty," said Maud, " about trans- 
 migration is that so few people will ever get to 
 heaven if they have to wait till they cease to 
 care for anything on earth. In all my life I've 
 never met anybody who had got to the right
 
 94 TWO SINNEES 
 
 stage have you ? As far as I can make out," 
 she continued, " in Nirvana you will only meet 
 Orientals and perhaps St. Francis and St. 
 John of the Cross." 
 
 Lady Dorothy's mind had slipped off the 
 subject. Maud's argument required more con- 
 centrated thought than she was accustomed to 
 make, and she took refuge in conversation with 
 Kiddie. After that, Jackson came in to put 
 on the lights and to poke the fire, so that when 
 Maud gathered up her gloves and veil and went 
 out of the drawing-room, Lady Dorothy suddenly 
 awoke to the fact that, in spite of her ardent 
 curiosity and her real interest in her niece, she 
 was not any nearer to knowing all about Major 
 Kames than she had been before Maud's arrival. 
 
 Maud made her way up the narrow, dark 
 stairs, and walked into the bedroom she usually 
 occupied when she was staying at Brown Street. 
 She was amazed to find the room cold and 
 empty. She rang the bell, and when the maid 
 appeared she was taken into another room, one 
 reserved for important persons ! Her luggage was 
 already in possession of Lady Dorothy's own 
 maid ! Maud looked round the room. So she 
 had become an important person ! A transforma- 
 tion had taken place in her : from being nobody 
 she had become somebody and all owing to 
 Major Kames ! 
 
 Lionel Kames ! And what made Lionel 
 Kames important ? 
 
 Apparently the whole world, even a harmless 
 person like her Aunt Dorothy, conspired with
 
 TWO SINNEES 95 
 
 the powers of Evil to support Mammon. Wealth 
 was respected and poverty was not ; and what 
 about the human personality involved ? That 
 seemed to count for very little ! What was the 
 good of trying to blind herself to the fact that 
 as Major Karnes's wife she was something 
 different from, something far superior to what 
 she was as merely Miss Maud Monckton. In 
 the face of that undeniable transformation how 
 could she dream even for a moment of breaking 
 off the engagement ? The idea was absurd I 
 Let us all worship Mammon, and give him the 
 credit he deserves. What in this world is a 
 woman likely to get from satisfying a sensitive 
 conscience ? It was possible she did not think 
 it was probable but it was just possible, that 
 even Ursula vaguely, perhaps unconsciously, 
 felt that Maud was more important than she 
 had been, though less virtuous ! What a horrible 
 idea ! 
 
 Why has human nature been soaked to the 
 very bones in snobbishness ? Cinderella triumphs 
 because in the end wealth and power are at her 
 service. Virtue prevails, that is true but it 
 must be Virtue crowned with gold. For nineteen 
 centuries men have clung with a tiger ferocity 
 to the regalia of the Founder of Christianity in 
 the conviction that without it He would be 
 useless to them. They want to look round and 
 boast to the world : " Our Lord and Master 
 can trace His birth (see exclusive and perfectly 
 reliable documents) directly to the Supreme 
 Potentate of the Universe," for, if not, all the
 
 96 TWO SINNERS 
 
 pride of the world with its princely palaces and 
 its priceless treasures, its inventions, all that 
 belongs to sight and touch, the very crown of 
 Human Effort, may crumble and dissolve into 
 nothing, and we, sceptics as we are, be left alone 
 with a cold, attenuated, starlike memory of a 
 strange crucified Man and His Faith in the 
 Unseen. Maud got some relief for her feelings 
 in this accusation against the " religious " world 
 in general.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 IT was all right ! A wire had come from Orpen- 
 den from Major Kames that evening. She was 
 to expect him at four o'clock the following day. 
 
 Now that she was certain of his forgiveness 
 she wondered how she could have doubted it. 
 Men in love always forgive they are not capable 
 of being really critical. If Maud had any regret 
 in her mind for what she had said to him, it 
 was because she had not spoken strongly enough. 
 Culture and refinement she had already, and he 
 had not, but she was socially uplifted by her 
 engagement to him. In the eyes of the world 
 third-class might be good enough for Miss Maud 
 Monckton, but it wasn't suitable for Mrs. Kames. 
 Maud was almost inclined now to pride herself 
 on having had the boldness to utter a sarcasm 
 that was good for Lionel's morals, though it 
 was risky from a diplomatic point of view. She 
 took a vow, there and then, that she would 
 never increase his natural conceit by admitting 
 to him that she was aware that she gained 
 anything by her marriage with him. 
 
 " Are there any relatives of Major Kames 
 that you will have to go and see while you are 
 here ? " asked Lady Dorothy. 
 
 Maud had never heard Kames mention the 
 word " relative." Somehow she had not thought 
 
 H
 
 98 TWO SINNERS 
 
 about it being profoundly occupied with the 
 question whether she could endure Major Kames 
 himself. Her thoughts had never wandered so 
 far from this central question as to ask herself 
 whether she could endure his relatives, or even 
 whether he had any. All she knew was that his 
 father and mother were not living, and that he 
 had been the only child and heir of his father's 
 accumulated wealth. 
 
 " I don't know if he has any relatives," said 
 Maud. 
 
 " He must have relations," said Lady Dorothy. 
 ' Everybody has and he must have intimate 
 friends." 
 
 ' There are all the people round Orpenden. 
 He seems to entertain a great deal when he's 
 there," said Maud ; " I've heard him speak of 
 friends, but not of relatives." 
 
 ' What were the Kameses ? " asked Lady 
 Dorothy. 
 
 ' Wealthy tradespeople," said Maud bluntly. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " And if he has any relatives they will, of 
 course, be tradespeople," cried Maud. " I must 
 ask about them as, of course, I should like to 
 be introduced to them." 
 
 Maud put her nose in the air as she spoke. 
 After the humiliation of being made " some- 
 body " merely because of her relationship to 
 Major Kames, it was rather agreeable to feel 
 that he needed her protection he and his 
 relatives it equalised the give and take ; it 
 soothed her vanity.
 
 TWO SINNERS 99 
 
 Lady Dorothy looked at her and stroked 
 Kiddie's head without replying. 
 
 " Money is everything," said Maud with an 
 air of authority that she would not have assumed 
 on her last visit to Brown Street. " The cheap 
 houses in seaside towns are full of people like 
 myself who have birth, and no particular ability, 
 and no money who have drifted down through 
 incompetent ancestors, and now count for nothing 
 in modern society. Nobody has any use for us. 
 The one question nowadays is In what style 
 can you live and entertain ? " 
 
 " There are some gentlemen left," said Lady 
 Dorothy, vaguely and yet firmly. 
 
 " Of course," said Maud, " just as there are 
 some Christians left. But do they count ? 
 Just look, Aunt Dorothy there is that little 
 man, General Broughton's son, whom Stella 
 calls ' Jumper,' because he moves so slowly ; 
 there's your typical modern man I don't say 
 gentleman, but ' man of the world ' he can 
 just manage to cheep out the latest music-hall 
 phrase. He has birth, but it isn't that that 
 keeps him going he happens to have money. 
 If he was poor he would be employed to lick 
 down envelopes, for he hasn't brains enough to 
 address them correctly." 
 
 :t My dear Maud, you talk like a Socialist," 
 said Lady Dorothy, who was beginning to tire 
 of the subject, and indeed she had never 
 raised it. 
 
 " I'm not a Socialist. What I should like 
 to be is a Christian but I can't," and Maud
 
 100 TWO SINNERS 
 
 turned away and began looking at herself in the 
 gilt mirror that hung on the wall near. 
 
 " I think you are sometimes a little morbid, 
 child," said Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " I am quite sure I am," said Maud, " because 
 I am haunted with the idea of God God God, 
 instead of realising that what is of world-wide 
 importance is the daily round here and at our 
 lodgings in Brighton." 
 
 Lady Dorothy was so eager to meet Major 
 Kames, so full of curiosity about him, that she 
 had returned from her drive with Maud earlier 
 than was necessary, and they were both in the 
 drawing-room waiting for him to make his 
 appearance when this conversation took place. 
 Lady Dorothy did not quite grasp Maud's 
 remarks, but she replied, "It's not healthy " ; 
 and then added : 
 
 ' You do look well in that dress, child," for 
 she caught the reflection of Maud in the mirror 
 and Maud's self looking at it. It was a relief 
 to change the talk to something that was not 
 introspective. 
 
 " I look well, for me," said Maud. She did 
 look very beautiful, for the dress was a pale 
 fawn and made Maud's hair and eyes con- 
 spicuous. She looked distinguished, and her 
 cheeks were slightly tinged with the excitement 
 of wondering how Lionel Kames would look at 
 her after the quarrel what he would say ! 
 
 Perhaps the suppressed emotion in the minds 
 of both ladies communicated itself to the red 
 Pomeranian for he was more than usually
 
 TWO SINNERS 101 
 
 troublesome, moving round and round in Lady 
 Dorothy's lap, and then suddenly springing off 
 it with a nerve-destroying bark, because of some 
 imaginary and hostile noise that he pretended to 
 hear. 
 
 When a real, though faint, sound of the 
 front-door bell caught the dog's ear he burst 
 into a paroxysm of rage, which Lady Dorothy 
 explained as the result of their having come in 
 so early from their drive defrauding him of 
 half an hour of fresh air. 
 
 " Don't you think he had better go out," 
 said Maud, " and be brought in later ? " 
 
 But Lady Dorothy was sure that after a 
 moment or two he would quiet down. 
 
 " After the first shock of seeing Major Kames 
 is over," she said, " he will take in the situation." 
 
 Maud looked angrily at the dog, but felt 
 helpless. There was no time to argue for the 
 door opened and Jackson announced " Major 
 Kames." 
 
 " Now, it's only a nice-y-nice-y man," mur- 
 mured Lady Dorothy to the palpitating fury in 
 her arms as she gathered him up and rose to meet 
 her future nephew-in-law. 
 
 Maud watched the meeting watched the 
 tall powerful figure and the bent head as he 
 kissed Lady Dorothy's hand and stood a moment 
 looking down at her with his large brown eyes 
 measuring her from head to foot ; then he looked 
 swiftly at Maud. His forgiveness was not 
 complete. He had not forgotten ! There was a 
 certain fixity in his eyes that Maud had not seen
 
 102 TWO SINNERS 
 
 there before, a reserve in the composure of his 
 mouth. Still there he was, safely hers, and her 
 Aunt Dorothy had already fallen in love with 
 him, and was assuring the frantic Kiddie that 
 he would soon get to like, beyond words, the 
 new, kind, good friend of little dogs. 
 
 Maud held out her hand and then leaned 
 forward and kissed her future husband's cheek 
 in spite of her aunt's presence then she stood 
 back holding both his hands, and laughed. 
 
 ' You are sorry to see me ? " she asked. 
 
 " I've been dreading it ever since I saw you 
 last," said Kames, and he laughed too, but not 
 quite in the old way. Lady Dorothy could not 
 hear what they said because of Kiddie. 
 
 " You mustn't think that Kiddie dislikes you, 
 Major Kames," screamed Lady Dorothy ; " the 
 poor darling barks at everybody, he is so sensitive 
 and highly strung. Dogs are just as sensitive 
 as human beings often more so and the 
 difficulty is that my poor darling doesn't like 
 to be left alone a single instant not a single 
 moment. It isn't the poor little atom's fault 
 that he is nervous ; he was born so, and we must 
 take people as they are, mustn't we ? " 
 
 " We've jolly well got to," said Kames, 
 taking a proffered seat. " All the same, Lady 
 Dorothy you're too kind to that little brute ; 
 you're ruining his immortal soul and sending 
 him to a place where you'll never meet him 
 again. Boo-ooh ! " he added, throwing his 
 voice in a deep threatening manner at the 
 astonished dog.
 
 TWO SINNERS 103 
 
 " How unkind ! " exclaimed Lady Dorothy. 
 ' You really are too hard ! It isn't the poor 
 little-ittle atom's fault that he is nervous. But 
 he really is feeling better. He likes you, Major 
 Kames. I told Maud he would. The pet has 
 wonderful insight." 
 
 " I'll let him off with purgatory," said Kames. 
 
 Perhaps it was some subconscious under- 
 standing of the gravity of Kames's argument 
 that overawed the dog, but anyhow Kiddie's 
 barks had grown less tense and less rapid : they 
 cooled down, so to speak, into low prolonged 
 growls, each finishing off with a savage yelp ; 
 and then finally he settled down in a position 
 from which he could cover Kames with eyes that 
 were full of scornful suspicion. 
 
 The truce was made the most of by Maud, 
 who strained every nerve to make herself charm- 
 ing not merely because she wanted to obliterate 
 the disagreeable impression she had made on 
 Lionel yesterday, but because she wanted to 
 give her Aunt Dorothy no opportunity of making 
 secret or pronounced comments on her engage- 
 ment. 
 
 Kames thawed beneath the warmth with 
 which both women treated him. His face 
 relaxed and he talked freely, taking Lady 
 Dorothy completely into his confidence. Maud 
 did not know whether to be amused or gratified 
 at seeing her Aunt Dorothy becoming coquettish 
 under the stimulation of his presence. It was 
 amazing how easily he drew her into the circle 
 of his influence. Was it conscious on his part
 
 104 TWO SINNERS 
 
 or unconscious ? was it merely the magnetic 
 attraction a large body has for a smaller one, 
 an attraction that cannot be helped or prevented ? 
 
 " How absurd life is ! " thought Maud ; 
 " and the worst of it is that we are too profoundly 
 interested in it to see the absurdity." 
 
 Everything was running smoothly till Jackson 
 opened the door. Then all Maud's self-com- 
 placence and peace vanished in one second of 
 time, and she sat stiffly staring at George 
 Broughton as he walked into the room. 
 
 Broughton did not need any of Lady 
 Dorothy's explanations when she introduced 
 the two men to each other. He shook hands 
 with Kames cordially, and the two men stood 
 together talking. What a contrast ! Both were 
 of the same height, but there the likeness ended. 
 They were men of utterly different type different 
 as steel is from cast iron, although the material 
 out of which both are made is the same so 
 thought Maud. She had so far lost her self- 
 control that she got up from her seat and moved 
 away, afraid of hearing Kames' s voice, afraid of 
 his phrases everything that would contrast him 
 with George Broughton. 
 
 She moved to the other side of the room where 
 the piano stood by the closed brown velvet 
 curtains. She opened the piano. 
 
 " Aunt Dorothy," she called out, " I didn't 
 tell you that Lionel plays on the piano. Wouldn't 
 you like to hear him play ? " 
 
 Of course Lady Dorothy would be charmed 
 tcThear him play. She was indeed ready to be
 
 TWO SINNERS 105 
 
 charmed with Major Kames under any circum- 
 stances. " And George, come here and have 
 your tea," she called. 
 
 " Go and play," said Maud, coming up to 
 the two men and taking Kames's arm " George, 
 won't you have tea ? Aunt Dorothy has poured 
 you out a cup." 
 
 So she separated them. Kames did as he 
 was told. He seated himself at the piano. The 
 little group near the fire could see his face well ; 
 the face undeniably had a certain power, Maud 
 could not deny it. 
 
 Kames struck some chords in the bass with a 
 force that made Lady Dorothy wince. Kiddie 
 sprang to his feet in her lap and barked in his 
 shrillest tone. 
 
 st Be quiet, darling," said Lady Dorothy. 
 Kiddie barked with greater rapidity. " Don't, 
 darling, it's nice-y-music-y -music," implored his 
 mistress. 
 
 But Kiddie had another opinion. Maud 
 went to the bell. " Shall I ring for Jackson ? " 
 she said. 
 
 Lady Dorothy spoke loving words of sweet 
 persuasion into her pet's ear, but to no purpose. 
 Maud rang the bell. 
 
 Major Kames meanwhile had turned round 
 in his seat, and was asking which of the two 
 performers Lady Dorothy would rather hear. 
 Broughton got up and leaned over his aunt's 
 chair. 
 
 " Let me have the little beggar," he said. 
 By a superhuman effort Kiddie was imprisoned
 
 106 TWO SINNERS 
 
 by his mistress's two hands and smothered away 
 in lace and shawls, so that only muffled sounds 
 could be heard snorting out of the confused heap 
 in her lap. 
 
 " Don't take him, George," she cried. " He's 
 trying not to bark ; he's so considerate, he wants 
 to try and bear it 1 Please go on, Major Kames." 
 
 But Kames had already risen, and to add to 
 the confusion Jackson announced names at the 
 door, and two elderly ladies, chums of Lady 
 Dorothy's, entered the room. 
 
 Broughton made a dive at the bundle on 
 his aunt's lap and pulled out the half-suffocated 
 Kiddie. In spite of his aunt's protests he held 
 Kiddie up by his tail. 
 
 ''Jackson," he called. "Wait. Take Kiddie." 
 
 " George, how can you behave like this ? ' : 
 said Lady Dorothy angrily. 
 
 " It'll do him a world of good," said 
 Broughton, dangling the darling in the air and 
 going to meet Jackson half-way across the room. 
 " It sends the blood to the brain and helps to 
 nourish it." 
 
 What Lady Dorothy's two intimate friends 
 really thought of the performance was not 
 visible. They maintained a diplomatic attitude 
 of sympathy towards all parties and merely 
 uttered colourless exclamations. 
 
 Kiddie alone was silent being unable to 
 articulate with his head hanging down. He 
 was full of suppressed rage. It was not merely 
 because of the great indignity which he suffered, 
 but he had been deprived of the opportunity
 
 TWO SINNERS 107 
 
 of expressing his opinion about the entrance of 
 two new people : he had lost one of those valuable 
 educational moments and there are too few 
 of them in which the sacred personality is 
 enabled to develop itself by active contact with 
 the rich objectivity of life. 
 
 Jackson received the insulted animal into his 
 arms, and hastily left the room. 
 
 Lady Dorothy was too much upset by the 
 occurrence to know what she was saying to her 
 visitors. Broughton took the opportunity of 
 going behind Maud, who was standing apart, and 
 asked after her sisters in a low voice as if it were 
 a mystery. That was why he had come that 
 afternoon ; to ask after Stella ! Maud read it 
 in his eyes. She told him that Ursula and 
 Stella were both well. He looked as if it was a 
 matter of supreme importance and inexpressible 
 pleasure, and then fell silent. So he loved 
 Stella with all the freshness and warmth and 
 simplicity of an unspoiled nature ! Standing 
 so close to him, his face only a little above the 
 level of hers, Maud forgot for a moment the 
 presence of Kames, of her aunt, of everybody, 
 and searched his features with a tragic curiosity 
 for truer knowledge of the character that lay 
 below them. She gazed at him as if at some 
 picture that symbolised that which her spirit 
 searched for and could not find in the sordid 
 presentations of ordinary life. 
 
 Broughton stood, with his eyes lowered, 
 quite unconscious of her for a moment. Then 
 some involuntary movement on her part brought
 
 108 TWO SINNERS 
 
 his eyes to hers. Broughton smiled. Was he 
 thinking of her already as his sister ? 
 
 " I must go," said Kames's voice at her ear. 
 ' Will you come to the door with me ? " 
 
 She had to answer. In a confusion she saw 
 him take his leave she heard him offer Lady 
 Dorothy a box at the theatre the following night ; 
 she heard her aunt accept, and she followed him 
 to the door. Must she go out of the drawing- 
 room with him ? She could have cried aloud with 
 self-pity ! Kames opened the door and ordered 
 her with his eyes to go out before him. 
 
 She obeyed and the door was closed they 
 stood together outside alone. 
 
 Maud tried to pull herself together. She 
 even laughed, though there was nothing in the 
 world to laugh at. Kames said nothing, but 
 he put his arm round her. 
 
 ' You can understand now why nobody who 
 can help it comes to No. 2, Brown Street ? " said 
 Maud, pretending to support herself by putting 
 her hand on his arm, but really pushing him away. 
 
 ' Why do you push me away ? " demanded 
 Kames swiftly. 
 
 He drew her away from the door towards the 
 head of the stairs with an arm that would allow 
 of no resistance. 
 
 He was bracing himself to say something 
 something that was deeply painful to him, and 
 which he said almost harshly as he suddenly 
 turned upon her and looked into her eyes. 
 
 ' There's never been anything between you 
 and Broughton ? "
 
 TWO SINNERS 109 
 
 Maud's eyes flickered. 
 
 " No," she said. 
 
 " Nothing ? " 
 
 " I've told you," she answered. 
 ' You've told me," he replied, and he still 
 waited. 
 
 " Nothing. Less than nothing." 
 ' What do you mean ? " he questioned, 
 speaking in his most rapid tone. 
 
 ' He has never thought of me for a moment," 
 said Maud. 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 '" I do know it." 
 
 ''' Then you know that he is interested in 
 another woman ? " He had clasped both her 
 arms with his hands, and looking down into 
 her face, seemed to draw the words from her by 
 sheer insistence. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 Maud closed her lips and then opened them 
 and said " Stella ! " 
 
 Kames threw back his head. He laughed. 
 
 " The poor innocent devil ! " he said and he 
 drew Maud on to the head of the stairs. 
 
 Maud tried in a feeble way to push his arm 
 from her waist. 
 
 " It's hard lines that some of the best fellows 
 in the world make such fool marriages. These 
 scientific chaps these philosophers and fellows 
 who work in laboratories don't know anything 
 about women. Give 'em a plaster figure or a 
 grey goose with a pair of earrings clapped to its
 
 110 TWO SINNERS 
 
 head and it's all one to them till it's too late. 
 Because a saint in the heat of the day succumbs 
 to a glass of beer, it's hard lines that he should be 
 compelled to spend the rest of his life in the 
 taproom." 
 
 " Don't speak in such an insulting way," 
 burst out Maud, trying to wrench away his hand. 
 
 " I'm not insulting you,'' he said ; " I 
 wouldn't for the whole world, though I doubt 
 if you could say the same to me." 
 
 He took her head in his hands and held it, 
 looking down at her as if her face was the page 
 of a difficult book. 
 
 Maud did not reply ; she lowered her eyelids 
 till they were nearly closed, and she knitted her 
 brow and waited to be released. 
 
 " A man who loves may be willing to be 
 kicked now and again, provided it is made up 
 for in the proper way ; but you're the hardest 
 
 woman in the world to deal with harder " 
 
 Here Kames pulled himself up sharply. 
 
 ' You mean, harder than any of the women 
 you have known." Maud had raised her eyes 
 and flashed a look of anger at him. 
 
 " No, 'pon my honour," said Kames. " I 
 wouldn't say such things to you " a dull red 
 colour coming into his face. " I'm not an 
 infant, Maud you know that," he went on, 
 drawing her close to him ; " but whatever I 
 have been I am now at this moment yours 
 absolutely, and shall always be there is no 
 other woman in the world you are everything 
 to me everything."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THEY were sitting at lunch in the long, narrow 
 dining-room at No. 2, Brown Street. Kiddie was 
 seated by the fire in his basket. Jackson brought 
 in a letter and handed it to Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " From George ! " said Lady Dorothy, as 
 soon as she had put up her glasses. 
 
 Maud went on eating without making any 
 reply. 
 
 Her Aunt Dorothy tore open the letter, spread 
 it out and began to read. 
 
 " Great news," she said, putting down the 
 letter. " But I knew it would come to that. 
 So, there's both of you off. Only Ursula left 
 and 'pon my word, I was beginning to think that 
 you would follow in her steps and remain an 
 old maid. But I was wrong, you were waiting 
 for Major Kames, my dear the most sensible 
 thing you could do. A very charming man, 
 and with the wealth he has got he is a sugar plum. 
 Now George is going to marry Stella. Do you 
 hear, Maud ! " The good lady took up the 
 letter again to read such important family news 
 to her niece. 
 
 "Don't read it aloud," said Maud. "It's 
 not right, not proper." She would have risen 
 from the table if she had dared. 
 
 But Lady Dorothy did not hear, and if she
 
 112 TWO SINNERS 
 
 had heard she would have thought the remark 
 most absurd. 
 
 " Did you guess it was coming ? " she asked. 
 
 ' Yes," said Maud. 
 
 ' Well, here goes," she began, reading aloud 
 in a jaunty voice that was mellowed by satis- 
 faction. 
 
 " MY DEAR AUNT DOROTHY, 
 
 " I am letting you know before any one 
 else because I owe it to you that I ever met her 
 I speak of Stella Monckton to whom I am just 
 engaged. I know only too well that I am only 
 a poor man. (' Quite true,' interposed Lady 
 Dorothy. ' I think he has two hundred a year 
 of his own, not a penny more, and I suppose his 
 salary is something absurd.') A poor man, but 
 with the encouragement and help of a girl like 
 Stella any man would be able to realise the very 
 best that is in him. That realisation she puts 
 before all others for the man she loves even if it 
 means the sacrifice of her own career. She is the 
 most unselfish woman I have ever met. Think 
 what a stimulus she will be to my work to all 
 that I hold most worth living for ! She is more 
 than all I had ever hoped for. I must catch the 
 five o'clock train to Brighton, to-day, but shall 
 run in and see you and my future sister-in-law, 
 if I can, between three and four. 
 
 " Your affectionate nephew, 
 
 " GEORGE BROUGHTON." 
 
 " Dear, good, sentimental fellow," added
 
 TWO SINNERS 113 
 
 Lady Dorothy, " I don't quite understand what 
 he means by Stella's career do you Maud ? 
 Stella's career ? " 
 
 Maud had placed her elbow on the table, 
 and was resting her forehead on her hand. 
 
 " I don't know," said Maud, trying to speak 
 distinctly. 
 
 ' Well, the boy is very much in love," said 
 Lady Dorothy, folding the letter. " He's not 
 a catch by any means, but if any girl wants a 
 really good man there he is if he only would 
 behave with more kindness to Kiddie. I can't 
 think why he ill-treats him, it's not like his 
 general character, but perhaps scientific people 
 are like that. I don't like it. I must stay in 
 and see him when he comes. After all it doesn't 
 much matter putting off those calls and we 
 got plenty of fresh air this morning ! Dear me ! " 
 
 Lady Dorothy got up from the table, carrying 
 the letter with her. 
 
 ' What will poor Ursula say to you two girls 
 going off and leaving her alone ? However, such 
 things can't be helped ! Some people must be 
 left behind." Lady Dorothy was so much 
 excited by the news that she did not notice 
 Maud's extraordinary silence. 
 
 Maud walked behind her upstairs, carrying 
 Kiddie in her arms to her aunt's bedroom. 
 
 ' You can see George even if he comes 
 before I am up, and you can send him up to 
 me. It will be delightful news to tell Major 
 Kames when he comes to dinner ! I suppose 
 George didn't know when he was here yesterday 
 
 i
 
 114 TWO SINNEKS 
 
 afternoon. Perhaps he had only just written to 
 Stella, and didn't get her answer till last night 
 or the first thing this morning ! Dear me, I 
 wish somebody would take pity on Ursula ! 
 Occasionally women of her age marry but not 
 often, and though the dearest woman in the 
 world, she's not what one would call a likely 
 person in that respect." Lady Dorothy began 
 preparing herself to lie down. 
 
 " I really shan't let Kiddie see George. The 
 poor angel will not have forgotten the way he 
 was treated yesterday and will be in fits if he 
 sees the unkind-y-kind." Lady Dorothy turned 
 round and stared up at her niece who was acting 
 as maid to her at the moment. 
 
 " Shall I ask Eugenie to take him out for a 
 walk between half-past three and half-past 
 four ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you had better," said Maud. 
 
 " Eugenie is always grumpy when I ask her 
 people are so selfish about dogs ! However, 
 ring the bell, dear, I'll make the venture 
 I'll brave the dragon." 
 
 Maud rang the bell and after waiting for a 
 moment till the maid appeared, she went out 
 of the room and closed the door softly and 
 went down into the drawing-room. She looked 
 out of the window. 
 
 It was one of those piercingly cold February 
 days that forbid any thought of the coming 
 spring, grey pavement, grey roadway, grey sky 
 topping the grey houses opposite the chilliness 
 of the air could be seen. She went to the same
 
 TWO SINNERS 115 
 
 gilt mirror into which she had looked on the 
 previous afternoon, and which had reflected 
 back an image of brilliant graceful womanhood. 
 What did it reflect now ? She went close up 
 to it and gazed at a white face. 
 
 She went upstairs to her room. She dressed 
 for going out and put on her furs. Then she 
 rang the bell and told the maid that if Dr. 
 Broughton called her ladyship was to be told at 
 once. She explained that she was going out 
 herself for a walk, and was not sure when she 
 would be in. 
 
 The very sting of the cold wind outside was a 
 physical relief to the girl. Also it is easier to 
 conttcol any emotion when one is walking fast. 
 She scarcely noticed where she was going except 
 that she knew she was walking in the Park and 
 pacing along westwards. The people she met 
 seemed to her, in her present mood, more like 
 dressed figures than human beings. They all 
 walked as if untouched by any keen emotion ; 
 even though one here or there moved with an 
 unusual haste, it was in order to save time, not 
 because of any driving force behind moral or 
 spiritual. Had all these people forgotten that 
 they were the victims of a strange, inevitable 
 destiny ? Didn't they know that they were 
 without their consent forced into this world, 
 loving or hating, and crying out for a God who 
 makes no answer ? She left the Park behind her 
 and went along streets street after street, and 
 at last she fancied that her steps were followed 
 by the steps of another. A sudden fear came
 
 116 TWO SINNERS 
 
 over her, interrupting her thoughts. She was 
 not accustomed to walk alone in London. Where 
 was she ? The streets were long and the houses 
 the homes of the mediocrity neither rich nor 
 poor ; there were not many people passing up 
 or down them. She looked up the road to see if 
 she could see a policeman, or a taxi stand. She 
 could see nothing, the road was empty. She 
 walked faster and turned because she feared 
 to turn back and face what might turn out to 
 be a persistent shadow into a side road. The 
 dismal houses looked down upon her without a 
 sign of life. 
 
 Suddenly she saw a spire ; a few yards off 
 was a red brick church. The gates were open, 
 the door was open. Beside it was a large notice 
 announcing a " Mission," and giving the hours 
 of the services. 
 
 She pushed the inner door, and found herself 
 inside a large, bare church. She would look for 
 the sacristan and ask him the way to the nearest 
 taxi stand. 
 
 It was dusky inside and the lights hanging 
 before the altar were conspicuous bright objects. 
 At the farthest end of the aisle the vestry door 
 stood open and two men talked within. She 
 could see that one was a priest and the other 
 a sacristan. The priest was tall and thin and 
 angular in his cassock, the sacristan was short 
 and stout. Maud could see that as she moved 
 aside into a chapel and sat down on a chair to 
 wait till they had finished their conversation. 
 
 In a few moments she heard the priest coming
 
 TWO SINNEKS 117 
 
 towards her. She looked up. He had entered 
 the chapel. He was middle-aged, his light hair 
 was mixed with grey, his features were pro- 
 nounced, almost severe, and his pale grey eyes 
 had a strange look in them, a look of penetrative 
 humour, and a look of fanaticism. It was a rare 
 combination. It almost alarmed Maud. She 
 rose hastily, as if to escape. 
 
 " Did you want to speak to me ? " he asked. 
 
 " I am so ashamed," began Maud, " I only 
 came here because I had lost my way and 
 couldn't find a taxi." 
 
 Wearing an old shabby cassock, the man 
 she addressed was yet a great gentleman in 
 appearance, in manner, in every detail. Maud 
 found it difficult to remove her eyes from his 
 face. 
 
 Psychologists tell us that whole schemes of 
 thought create themselves below the margin 
 of our consciousness, and often lie there dormant 
 until something happens to lift them to the 
 surface and we are surprised at our new and 
 unexpected view of things. 
 
 Maud had been unaware that she had any 
 craving to unburden her thoughts to any one, 
 but as she stood there in the twilight of that 
 February afternoon in the quiet refuge of that 
 chapel there came upon her a great longing to 
 put her case before an impartial critic whom she 
 would never meet again. What brought that 
 inner want to consciousness was the personality 
 of this man. Had he been uncouth in appearance 
 or jocose in manner, had he worn an air of spiritual
 
 118 TWO SINNERS 
 
 unction, she would have left that chapel with her 
 secret undisclosed. As it was at his bidding 
 she seated herself again, and began staring hard 
 at her muff, doubting how she should begin. 
 
 He sat down on a chair in front of her, and 
 leaned over the back so as to face her. 
 
 " I will get you a taxi later on," he said. 
 
 "Thanks so much," said Maud. "Thank 
 
 you " but she found no further words, and 
 
 yet she waited for them to come. 
 
 " You have something to say about yourself," 
 he suggested. He spoke in such an impersonal 
 manner and with such consummate ease, that 
 Maud felt that she must always have intended 
 speaking to him about herself, only that the 
 opportunity had not arisen before. 
 
 " No one will interrupt us," he said, " and I 
 have time. It is the business of my life to listen 
 as well as to talk. Are you troubled with 
 religious difficulties ? " 
 
 " I have no religious difficulties," said Maud, 
 '* because I have no religion."
 
 HERE Maud looked very straight into the face 
 opposite to her. She was getting accustomed to 
 the dimness of the chapel, lit only by lamps 
 hanging before the altar close beside them, and 
 a light in the aisle by the vestry door. She 
 thought she saw in that face opposite to her the 
 physical traces of a life of nervous strain. It 
 was as if the sculptor had moulded features of 
 an intellectual type, features of a man in the 
 full strength of his age, and then had scored 
 the forehead and the lips with a chisel. But 
 the pale grey eyes were undimmed and ardent. 
 Five minutes ago she had never seen this man, 
 he was an utter stranger ; yet she had made an 
 admission to him such as one makes rarely to 
 an intimate friend. Because he looked a notable 
 person was she taking him for more than he was 
 worth ? Suppose that in spite of the distinction 
 of his face he was a mere sacerdotalist, satisfied 
 with the husk of Catholicism and only capable 
 or reiterating commonplaces. 
 
 " There is something else you want to talk 
 about ? " he suggested. He did not show a 
 flicker of surprise at her dismissal of religion. 
 
 ;< There are things : ' Maud began, " but 
 
 why should I trouble you ? " 
 
 " You are going to take some step you are
 
 120 TWO SINNERS 
 
 doubtful about," he suggested, " and would 
 like to talk it over ? " He spoke as if it were 
 the most natural thing in the world that she, a 
 perfect stranger to him, should confide in him 
 it seemed to Maud at that moment the most 
 natural thing. Indeed, it seemed as if he had 
 sprung into existence for that purpose. There 
 he was, waiting. She lowered her eyes now 
 and spoke down at the muff on her lap. She 
 was determined to speak without any emotion. 
 She would put her question in the most im- 
 personal way she could. 
 
 " It is a little discouraging to an ordinary 
 profane person like myself," she began, " to 
 find that really good men have so little dis- 
 crimination. For instance why does a man, 
 who has all the world to choose from, a man 
 of real mental ability and of moral refinement, 
 why does he insist on marrying a pair of 
 turquoise earrings ? " 
 
 She raised her eyes in a flash and met the 
 grey ones that were looking at her. 
 
 " It is not a conundrum," she added, leaning 
 forward and looking fixedly at him. 
 
 There was the very slightest contraction of 
 his closed lips, but no smile ; the smile lay 
 behind them. 
 
 " No man has all the world to choose from," 
 he said. 
 
 Maud listened almost without drawing her 
 breath. 
 
 " If the man is all you say, how many women 
 will he have met who are his match ? "
 
 TWO SINNERS 121 
 
 That was true. How many ? Had she 
 ever herself met, among the many girls she 
 knew, Broughton's match ? Was she herself 
 his match ? 
 
 " You must remember," he went on, " that 
 Nature cares nothing for the individual. Nature 
 cares only for the continuation of the race. 
 If men and women in the flower of their age went 
 about the world able to see each other clearly 
 and critically would they, as they do now, rush 
 madly into bondage for the rest of their lives ? 
 They would weigh and hesitate until youth 
 was past. So Nature has wisely, for her own 
 purposes, made them blind. Marcus Aurelius 
 marries Faustina, Octavia marries Antony." 
 
 " Then you don't think ' falling in love ' is 
 sacred ? " she said, as if summing up his words 
 into one sentence. She leaned forward and 
 spoke slowly. " Knowing that love is blind, 
 you would not blame a woman if she married a 
 man she didn't love ? " 
 
 This was the question of her life. He was to 
 decide. He was to judge dispassionately, from 
 the point of a man who is standing back from the 
 stage and looking on life as a spectator, a spectator 
 who is impartial, yet profoundly serious. 
 
 " ' Falling in love ' and ' love ' are two 
 different matters," he said. 
 
 Maud tried to look at him without flinching. 
 She noticed without moving her own eyes from 
 his, minute details about this man that had 
 hitherto escaped her. She observed the length 
 of his hands, the gauntness of his wrists and
 
 122 TWO SINNERS 
 
 elbows. She observed that his lips were moulded 
 with a certain flatness and thickness almost to 
 the corners, that he had a scar upon his chin, 
 that his ears were small, and that his grizzled 
 hair curled at his ears. The absolute simplicity 
 of his dress, the straight lines of his cassock and 
 collar band only added to his look of austere 
 dignity. 
 
 " Mere ' falling in love ' often ends in ' falling 
 out of love.' Love in the fuller sense, what the 
 Greeks called charity, is necessary in every 
 relation of life." 
 
 Maud made no reply. Her eyelids quivered 
 a little. 
 
 " Love in the sense of charity is the only 
 solution to the problem of life : we have tried 
 easier methods and they have failed. By love 
 I don't mean sentiment or admiration for what 
 is charming I mean something that is ' stronger 
 than death/ A man who has the leisure to 
 sit by his fireside surrounded by pictures and 
 books and selected companions will often, after 
 he has had a reasonably good dinner, say, nay 
 protest, that ' love ' is better than the Law and 
 the Prophets, and wiser than any Philosophy. 
 So it is, but it is incalculably harder as he will 
 find out if you turn that man out of his sheltered 
 library, face to face with the coarser forms of 
 Humanity and ask him to show his ' love ' to 
 them. Suppose you make him attend to some 
 irritable paralytic, or saddle him with a drunken 
 wife, or make him responsible for underlings 
 who are envious and suspicious and then ask
 
 TWO SINNERS 123 
 
 him whether he finds ' love ' as easy as he 
 thought." He paused for a moment and then 
 said almost abruptly, " I don't blame a woman 
 for marrying a man whom she does not love, 
 if she is strong enough and tender enough to 
 behave to him as if she did love him." His 
 mouth relaxed with a smile that would at any 
 other time have been irresistible to Maud, just 
 now she could not smile in return, she felt in- 
 expressibly pained. The tears started to her 
 eyes, the corners of her mouth dropped miser- 
 ably, and she bent her head. After a moment's 
 silence he added very gravely : " The woman you 
 speak of is marrying for some reason" and he 
 laid a stress on the last word. 
 
 " Of course," said Maud, trying to control 
 her emotion. She raised her head, and sat with 
 drooping eyelids like a child being catechised. 
 
 " Is the motive of the marriage respect," he 
 asked, " or the desire for a home ? " 
 
 Maud did not answer. 
 
 ' Wealth ? " he suggested. 
 
 She bent her head slightly. 
 
 ;< The man you are about to marry," he 
 began. He laid no emphasis on the " you," 
 the word dropped into its place without effort. 
 :< The man you are about to marry has something 
 to offer you that you prize. Very well. Is 
 there anything you can give him in return for 
 this that he will value highly ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Maud. 
 
 " Does he care about sympathy, affection ? " 
 
 Maud did not deny it. Everything was
 
 124 TWO SINNERS 
 
 going against her. This man was making her 
 feel that she was morally feeble, and she wanted 
 to be told that she was really strong, only 
 unfortunate. 
 
 " And you can't give him sympathy or affec- 
 tion, is that it ? You are not strong enough 
 or tender enough to behave as if you loved him ? " 
 
 Maud shook her head and allowed a tear 
 to trickle down her cheek and fall upon her 
 muff. 
 
 " In that case you mustn't marry him." 
 
 Maud rose from her chair. 
 
 " I knew you'd say that," she murmured. 
 
 He rose from his chair too and stood looking 
 down at her : 
 
 ' Whatever faults there are on either side, 
 whatever regrets there may be or repinings, a 
 man and a woman must at least start their 
 married life with an honest recognition that they 
 have given ' hostages to fortune.' Do you 
 understand ? " 
 
 She understood only too well. The interview 
 was over, the judgment had gone against her 
 and she felt that there could be no appeal that 
 was the hardship of it. 
 
 " You don't know how difficult it will be," 
 she said impulsively. 
 
 " Life itself is difficult," he said. " It has 
 never been better described than as no more 
 and no less than the brief glance thrown by a 
 drowning man who lifts his head for a moment 
 above the waves around him and stretches out 
 his hands towards sights and sounds, the meaning
 
 TWO SINNERS 125 
 
 of which he has no time to understand, and then 
 sinks and is gone. Realise the solemnity of 
 this and you will not go far wrong. I am speak- 
 ing to you," he added, " in your own language, 
 not in the language of religion." 
 
 Maud moved her lips silently as she gazed up 
 at him. 
 
 He looked down intently at her and laid his 
 hand on her shoulder : 
 
 " In words that you and I can both under- 
 stand, let me urge you to look on life as very 
 short and very precious." 
 
 " I will try," she said. 
 
 Then he moved away from her, bidding her 
 wait for a moment while he fetched his hat from 
 the vestry. Surely she had not been in the 
 church more than five or ten minutes, and in 
 that short time all that had been happening for 
 many, many weeks was cancelled. 
 
 She walked slowly down the aisle toward the 
 door. She could hear voices from the vestry, 
 his voice and the voice of the sacristan, she could 
 not hear what they said. 
 
 At the door she waited and turned back. 
 He was coming towards her. She pushed open 
 the door and stood outside. The afternoon was 
 already getting dark and the wind was, if 
 possible, colder than it had been before. Maud 
 shivered and drew her furs more closely round 
 her. 
 
 " We can get a taxi in the next street," he 
 said. As they walked along together it seemed 
 to Maud as if neither time nor circumstance
 
 126 TWO SINNERS 
 
 had had anything to do with the relationship 
 with this man. He had always intended to 
 answer her question, and she had always in- 
 tended to ask it. A few paces brought them to 
 a street which her companion turned down. It 
 led to a big thoroughfare and Maud could see 
 in the gathering twilight at the corner a row of 
 taxi-cabs. She could see a motor- omnibus 
 passing crowded with city men, she could see 
 the traffic and rush of London, she could hear 
 the noise loud and fitful. 
 
 Before she could collect her thoughts, before 
 she could clearly see her position, before she had 
 time to realise what lay before her, she would 
 be speeding away in one of the taxis, carrying 
 her marching orders with her, orders given her 
 by a stranger, some one who had sprung from 
 nowhere but whom she recognised at once as, 
 of necessity, the arbiter of her fate. 
 
 How she rebelled against the consequences 
 of his judgment, rebelled and yet saw no escape 
 from them ! Besides, she had said, " I will 
 try." He hailed a taxi, and Maud saw it shunt 
 and then slide towards them lessening the short 
 distance with an almost malignant rapidity. 
 
 How would she be able to go through with 
 all that lay before her when she was alone, weak 
 and unsupported by the force of this man's 
 presence 1 He helped her into the taxi and 
 shut the door upon her. 
 
 " What address ? " he asked. 
 
 Maud gave it, and she could hear him repeat 
 it to the chauffeur.
 
 TWO SINNEES 127 
 
 Then she leaned her head at the window in a 
 sudden haste. 
 
 " I don't even know your name," she called, 
 for she felt like a child who has just discovered 
 that he has lost sight of his home and that he is 
 lost. 
 
 e Wait a minute," he said to the driver, and 
 feeling in his pockets he produced a leathern 
 card case. He took out a card and handed it 
 in at the window to Maud. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said and stood back on the 
 pavement. 
 
 Maud sat leaning forward, the card in her 
 hand. She gazed out at the tall cloaked figure. 
 What was his life like ? What was the secret 
 of it ? What suffering had been his, what 
 joys ? She would never see him again. He 
 had come across her for a moment and had 
 gone, and yet the whole future direction of her 
 life had been decided by his judgment ; the order 
 of his life, of which she knew nothing, ruled 
 hers. 
 
 He was out of sight and she sank back upon 
 the cushions disconsolate. 
 
 The card ! It was in her hand. She sat 
 up, peered over it, reading it by the dim lamp- 
 light. There was the name and address. How 
 strange ! It seemed as if she heard a familiar 
 echo of Ursula's voice from the distance. 
 
 He was Father Fitzherbert of the Com- 
 munity of St. Paul. 
 
 And all the time he had never so much as 
 pronounced the word " God."
 
 LADY DOROTHY was very much excited by the 
 events of the afternoon, that is to say, her talk 
 with George Broughton. She was a little in- 
 dignant that Maud had not stayed at home to 
 meet George. Maud ought not to have gone out 
 on such an occasion, and if she had gone out, 
 she ought not to have walked so far that she was 
 obliged to rest for half an hour in a church 
 before driving home. 
 
 " It's too late for tea and I don't want 
 any," said Maud. 
 
 " You shouldn't wander about like a lost 
 lamb," said Lady Dorothy. " It isn't a proper 
 or a pleasant thing to do and, of course, you 
 are too tired to want any tea now ; but do listen 
 while I tell you. They are to be married in 
 July ! " 
 
 Lady Dorothy stared hard at her niece, but 
 failed to attract her eyes. " Now, Maud, why 
 can't you and Lionel fix on a date for your- 
 selves ? What do you say to being married 
 on the same day as George and Stella ? " 
 
 Lady Dorothy looked still harder at her 
 niece across the bridge of her nose, a habit she 
 had when she was thinking of " ways and 
 means." 
 
 Maud had gone to the fire and was gazing
 
 TWO SINNERS 129 
 
 down at the point of her toe as she placed it on 
 the fender. 
 
 Life did seem very short and very precious 
 for the moment when Fitzherbert was walking 
 beside her, but now in the commonplace London 
 drawing-room, with Aunt Dorothy talking to her, 
 her own personal hopes and fears came crowding 
 back upon her with sudden intensity, and life 
 seemed very long and full of sordid necessities. 
 ' What do you think ? " demanded her 
 Aunt Dorothy. " Isn't it a good idea ? " 
 
 " Please don't even suggest such a thing," 
 said Maud, in a tone of cold surprise. 
 
 " But we must consider expense," said Lady 
 Dorothy. " Sentiment is all very well, Maud, 
 but both you and Stella must be married from 
 here ; and you know well, my dear, you must 
 know that since your uncle's death I have had 
 to get along as best I could." 
 
 "I know, I know," said Maud. "All I 
 mean, dear Aunt Dorothy, is that Stella's wedding 
 should be considered first there is no hurry 
 about mine ! " 
 
 " It ought to be the other way about a hurry 
 for you and no hurry for Stella." 
 
 " I haven't thought of the day yet," said 
 Maud gloomily, " not even of the month or " 
 she added in a low voice, " the year. Anyhow, 
 my wedding will cost nothing. Major Kames 
 has no relatives that I have ever heard of 
 and as to mine no one matters but you, Aunt 
 Dorothy. An absolutely quiet wedding is all 
 I could possibly tolerate."
 
 130 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " I wish you were not so eccentric, Maud," 
 said Lady Dorothy ; " you must consult Lionel's 
 wishes in the matter. A perfectly quiet wedding 
 is all right when people are in mourning, but it 
 is not a good beginning under ordinary circum- 
 stances it is unsociable and very unsuitable 
 when you are marrying a wealthy man. I don't 
 know how I can afford two separate weddings 
 this summer. I've been going through the 
 matter roughly very roughly just now, merely 
 to get an estimate of what it will cost Ursula 
 
 can't help You see there is a trousseau for 
 
 each of you." 
 
 " Stella is sure to want an orthodox wedding, 
 Aunt Dorothy so that as things stand now," 
 said Maud coldly, " I have two alternatives 
 before me either to be married quietly, or not 
 to be married at all. I'm not sure that it 
 wouldn't be better to put off my wedding 
 indefinitely ! What do you think ? " 
 
 This was not what Lady Dorothy meant. 
 She gasped : " What do you mean ? " she 
 demanded. 
 
 " Nothing in the world would induce me to 
 go halves in Stella's wedding," said Maud. 
 " An ordinary single wedding seems to me absurd 
 enough, but a double onedear Aunt Dorothy, 
 do talk of something else." 
 
 " How can I talk of something else ? Here 
 you and Stella get engaged within a fortnight 
 of each other and are going to be married 
 and you expect me not to talk about it. You 
 are not reasonable : we must talk it over with
 
 TWO SINNERS 131 
 
 Lionel, who, I am quite sure will be willing to 
 discuss the most important step in his life even 
 if you won't in fact," she added, " he may have 
 decided views." 
 
 " He will have to choose between a quiet 
 wedding or no wedding. He may prefer the 
 latter," said Maud. 
 
 " Your walk hasn't done you any good," 
 said Lady Dorothy. " Wandering alone about the 
 London streets is not healthy or nice for a girl." 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Maud. " Perhaps when 
 I have warmed my feet my brains will work 
 better until they are warm I can't help thinking 
 that it is pleasant to know that when I die I 
 shan't have to arrange my own funeral." 
 
 " Many people do arrange their own funeral 
 beforehand," said Lady Dorothy, " and enjoy 
 doing it, though not people of your age." 
 
 " Then I am glad to think that nobody can 
 arrange what they are going to do in the next 
 world, Aunt Dorothy," said Maud, hitching 
 up the skirt of her dress slightly and smoothing 
 it out over her knees. 
 
 " Of course not," said Lady Dorothy. " A 
 divine Providence has arranged that or will 
 arrange it but I am not asking you to discuss 
 the next world with me." 
 
 " That's quite true you have me there," 
 said Maud. " I'm cross and stupid I can't 
 think just now, Aunt Dorothy." 
 
 Lady Dorothy gave an inarticulate grunt 
 and looked her niece all over. Then she looked 
 at the clock.
 
 132 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " Dinner in an hour's time," she said. " I 
 asked Lionel to be here at half -past seven." As 
 she spoke she rose from her chair, and stooping 
 down gathered Kiddie in her arms. "I'm 
 going," she said, adding " and so the darling, 
 Kidikins, the poor ickle Kidikins, has got to 
 spend his evening all alone-y-one. Oh, the 
 wicked people, oh, the heartless people to leave 
 the angel angel all alone-y-one." 
 
 If Lady Dorothy had had the dispensing 
 of the lives of her nieces, she would have ordered 
 a miracle and got Ursula married to some 
 respectable parson, and she would have disposed 
 of Stella, either to George or some one else. 
 Maud she would have retained in her own service. 
 Although she found Maud at times a little 
 exasperating, Maud was her favourite. Maud's 
 engagement might not have been so pleasing 
 to her, had it been to any one less fascinating than 
 Major Kames. Major Kames was just the 
 nephew-in-law that Lady Dorothy would have 
 chosen to have had her imagination been vivid 
 enough to anticipate his personality. 
 
 Lady Dorothy felt as if her entourage had 
 suddenly been enriched, life was more amusing 
 now that Lionel Kames visited No. 2, Brown 
 Street. Lady Dorothy went through the process 
 of dressing with an interest in it that she had not 
 felt for years. The only drawback to the even- 
 ing's enjoyment was the necessity of leaving 
 Kiddie at home. She was sure that in course 
 of time Kiddie would learn to appreciate Lionel 
 and love him, and the few gathering clouds that
 
 TWO SINNERS 133 
 
 darkened her darling's life would be dispersed 
 in the near future when he would become a 
 welcome guest along with his mistress at 
 Orpenden. Orpenden would be a charming 
 change of air for Kiddie. How keenly he 
 would enjoy the grounds ! What a delightful 
 man Lionel was and so considerate ! There he 
 was already in the drawing-room when Lady 
 Dorothy came down. He was not merely 
 punctual to the moment, he was in front of the 
 clock, and had arrived five minutes before the 
 time. He was there, large, prosperous, and genial. 
 " Maud is late," said Lady Dorothy, as she 
 looked with attentive scrutiny at her future 
 nephew-in-law. Everything about him pleased 
 her ; she felt warmed, secure and stimulated by 
 his presence ; the misgiving that sometimes 
 crept into her heart in spite of Kiddie, in spite 
 of her self-assertion, the misgiving that she was 
 after all just an old, lonely woman, had no 
 place even at the back of her thoughts when 
 she was talking to Lionel Kames. Somehow, 
 mysteriously, he shed a rose colour over herself 
 and her drawing-room. Lady Dorothy did not 
 notice any lack of spirituality in him. She did 
 not look for " spirituality." Her brother General 
 Monckton had called himself an " agnostic," 
 Lady Dorothy called herself a " Christian," and 
 neither position had any relation to " spiritu- 
 ality." Lady Dorothy directed her coachman 
 to drive to church in exactly the same spirit 
 as she would have directed him to Bond Street 
 for shops or to Buxton for baths.
 
 134 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " Lionel," she said, " another family event ! 
 My nephew George, whom you saw yesterday, 
 is just engaged to Stella. There, isn't that a 
 piece of news ? " 
 
 Kames's face looked down at her attentively. 
 !< Lucky beggar," he said, after a brief pause 
 and his face looked enigmatic. 
 
 " So's she," said Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " Of course," said Kames, " so's she ! " His 
 face still looked enigmatic. 
 
 :t There's no doubt that Stella is a very fine 
 girl," said Lady Dorothy, " though very different 
 to Maud." 
 
 ' You cannot compare them," said Kames, 
 still occupied with his own thoughts. 
 
 " No, you can't compare them they are 
 both splendid girls. And " added Lady 
 Dorothy, in a perfunctory voice, the voice of 
 one who is saying what is proper about the 
 family, " and Ursula is, as everybody knows, a 
 saint." 
 
 Kames raised his head a little. 
 
 " It 'd be a dull world without saints," he 
 said, and laughed. 
 
 " Oh, do you think so 1 " said Lady 
 Dorothy, a little sharply, for she was thinking 
 of Ursula. 
 
 " I do," said Kames. " They're so surprisin'. 
 Sinners you can haul in by the dozen with a 
 penny hook and a bit of coloured thread, but 
 saints, there's no knowing how to catch 'em, or 
 how to keep 'em when they are caught." 
 
 " I don't want to catch them," said Lady
 
 TWO SINNERS 135 
 
 Dorothy. Kames stared down at her narrowly 
 and the corners of his mouth relaxed into a 
 slow smile. She was half nettled, half fascinated 
 by his look. He was perhaps just a little well, 
 not quite right from the point of view of his 
 antecedents, but apart from that he was charm- 
 ing, he had a personality that pleased her and 
 made her forget she was old. She almost jumped 
 when the drawing-room door opened and Maud 
 came in. 
 
 " Maud ! " she called, " you are five whole 
 minutes late ; it's unpardonable. I only forgive 
 you because I have been telling Lionel about 
 Stella's engagement." 
 
 Maud's face, which was pale when she entered, 
 flushed. " I am very sorry, Aunt Dorothy," she 
 said, and then she held out her hand to Kames 
 and smiled, but she did not look at him. 
 
 " I should hope you are sorry," said Lady 
 Dorothy. " Lionel, give me your arm." 
 
 " I am your obedient servant," said Kames. 
 He had dropped Maud's hand, but his eyes 
 were still on her when he offered his arm to Lady 
 Dorothy. 
 
 "Maud isn't generally guilty of bad manners," 
 Lady Dorothy explained. 
 
 ;f I'm sure of it," said Kames. 
 
 :t Though young people nowadays usually 
 have no manners." 
 
 " Bad form," said Kames ; " isn't what it 
 used to be. It used to be anything inelegant, 
 now it's t'other way round." 
 
 " ' Change and decay in all around I see/ "
 
 136 TWO SINNERS 
 
 quoted Lady Dorothy. " So I suppose we must 
 endure it." 
 
 Lady Dorothy had arranged that Kiddie 
 should be brought into the dining-room after 
 they were seated at table. She hoped that if 
 he was brought in swiftly and deposited on his 
 own mat in front of his own dinner, he might 
 forgive or overlook the presence of Major 
 Kames. Then, after the warmth of food had 
 permeated his being he would insensibly become 
 accustomed to the intrusion and resent it less. 
 
 This optimistic view did not prove to be 
 a correct one. Although Kiddie was brought 
 swiftly in and put down by the plate of food 
 by the fire, he perceived instantly that there 
 was an obnoxious and unaccustomed presence 
 at the sacred and exclusive table of his mistress. 
 He glanced at Major Kames out of the corners 
 of his eyes and fell into a paroxysm of rage, 
 standing stiffly before his still more sacred and 
 exclusive plate. He glared haughtily at the 
 minced chicken and early spinach, and dared 
 Major Kames to come and touch it ; he dared 
 Major Kames to remain seated, dared Major 
 Kames to speak, he dared him even to breathe. 
 
 " Conversation is impossible," said Maud, 
 glancing everywhere but at Kames. What sort 
 of language was he using under his breath ? 
 She had a faint conception of it. 
 
 Suddenly Kiddie relaxed his limbs, became 
 silent and fell upon his food. 
 
 :t The darling ! " murmured Lady Dorothy. 
 " Isn't he wonderful with Lionel, Maud ? You
 
 TWO SINNERS 137 
 
 will be the best of friends in no time, and once 
 a friend always a friend with Kiddie. Don't 
 you think fidelity is the greatest of all virtues ? 
 You know the Monckton motto ' Faithful to 
 the death.' Whatever vices we may have, we 
 are true to our word. It's Kiddie's motto too." 
 Maud still avoided the brown watchful eyes 
 of the man who sat opposite her. 
 
 Fitzherbert's words, "If you are strong enough 
 and tender enough," wounded her to the very 
 soul. For Maud knew she could be neither 
 strong nor tender ; if, ah, if Lionel had been a 
 man like Fitzherbert or like George Brought on, 
 she could she thought she could have been 
 both tender and strong. 
 
 If she had felt distress at the contrast between 
 George Brought on and Lionel, she felt still more 
 distress at the contrast between Lionel and 
 Fitzherbert. 
 
 Once during that dinner she shot a swift 
 look at the man to whom she a Monckton 
 had pledged her word. Could she by a super- 
 human effort pretend to love him ? Would it 
 be possible ? Kames, still watchful, caught that 
 look and tried by sheer force of will to retain 
 it. She wrenched herself away and sat confused 
 and miserable. 
 
 All that evening passed like an uneasy dream. 
 The theatre with its thronged galleries, its hot 
 and oppressive atmosphere, the crowded faces ; 
 Lady Dorothy, talkative and amused ; the play 
 itself strangely meaningless and unnecessary, 
 the characters shadows with human shape.
 
 138 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Nothing was to Maud distinct and real but 
 the silent struggle between Lionel and herself. 
 It had come to that he knew it and was gather- 
 ing up his forces for the attack. A man came 
 into the box and began talking. It was that 
 youthful " cheeper " of music-hall phrases, whom 
 Stella called " Jumper." Maud could see that 
 he was attracted by Kames. Kames stood 
 conspicuous, a notable figure. He looked like 
 a man who controlled the circumstances of life, 
 he suggested " money," and young Broughton 
 was impressed. Maud could hear the youth 
 criticising the drama. Maud could hear Lionel's 
 voice. 
 
 ' What do you mean by realism ? " she heard 
 him demand. 
 
 The youth's reply was that he meant what 
 everybody else meant. 
 
 " Everybody don't mean the same," said 
 Kames's voice rapidly ; in his tone there was a 
 suppressed irritation that was new to Maud. 
 
 ' Who are you trying to identify ? " asked 
 Lady Dorothy, bending her high bridged nose 
 nearer to Maud. 
 
 " I'm only looking at the confusion," said 
 Maud, for her ears were straining to catch the 
 voices behind her that had withdrawn them- 
 selves a little. 
 
 " A great man," she heard Kames say in a 
 lowered voice to escape the ears of Lady Dorothy, 
 " a great man may mean by realism what he 
 sees, or thinks he sees, in the gutter or in the 
 church or on the hill-top but " and here
 
 TWO SINNERS 139 
 
 Maud only just caught the last words, " but 
 knowing human nature as I do, when I hear a 
 lousy-looking brute, who smells of the paint 
 box or of the lamp, slobbering praise of realism, 
 I know, even though he don't know himself, that 
 what he means is : real uninterrupted dirt ; the 
 cant name for it is : * Art for Art's sake.' ' 
 
 Maud shuddered and found herself repeating 
 almost as one repeats the words of some old 
 prayer barely remembered, " I want you to 
 think of life as very short and very precious." 
 Oh, what did it all mean, this conflict, this 
 struggle, this grasping at things that are here, 
 there and are gone, this sounding swift tumul- 
 tuous coming and going of human life ? 
 
 The play was all over, the curtain was being 
 lowered for the last time and the audience were 
 pressing to the doors. Maud found herself out 
 in the fresh air among a pushing crowd ; then 
 came the swift gliding along midnight streets 
 and they were home again. Now, what was 
 going to happen ? Most mercifully, most 
 amazingly Kames refused to come in. He stood 
 just inside the hall, hat in hand, saying Good 
 night. 
 
 " So you really won't, really positively," said 
 Lady Dorothy, trying to conceal her relief , for 
 was not her own Kiddie waiting for her upstairs ? 
 She could hear the distant sound of his darling 
 screams, and dear, dear Lionel might excite 
 the angel too, too much for his little nerv-y- 
 nerves. 
 
 Maud had slipped past her Aunt Dorothy
 
 140 TWO SINNERS 
 
 and stood, looking white and guilty, out of 
 Lionel's reach. She had not yet said Good 
 night. 
 
 " Maud ! " said Lady Dorothy. " He abso- 
 lutely refuses to come in," and she moved 
 towards the staircase. Kames was still standing 
 at the door. 
 
 " Maud," he said, bluntly. " Wait ! I want 
 to ask you a question." 
 
 " Of course, of course," called out Lady 
 Dorothy clutching at her cloak and impedi- 
 menta and beginning to mount the stairs. 
 " Good-bye, Lionel, such a delightful evening, 
 indeed, most delightful," she called back, as she 
 ran nimbly up, nimbly for her age, but then she 
 was stimulated to extra exertion by the thought 
 that the " young couple " wanted her out of the 
 way. 
 
 Jackson had disappeared and Maud stood 
 there, her face getting more and more strained. 
 
 What was the question Lionel was going to 
 ask her ? Was it the date of their marriage ? 
 If so she would be forced to speak out. 
 
 " Don't look so startled," said Kames. 
 
 " Do I look startled ? " said Maud. 
 
 ' You know that you look startled and are 
 startled," he said. Standing there in the full 
 glare of the light he looked as if he was about to 
 add some abrupt exclamation, but he suppressed 
 himself and said after a moment's pause 
 
 " I've promised Lady Dorothy to come to her 
 At Home to-morrow and sing do you wish me 
 to come ? "
 
 TWO SINNERS 141 
 
 " I thought you said you'd promised," said 
 Maud, trembling a little. 
 
 ' ( I have promised ! " 
 
 There was a long pause which became in- 
 tolerable to Maud. 
 
 ' You will find it appallingly dull," she said. 
 " Old pals of Aunt Dorothy, people who endure 
 Kiddie. You will suffer a martyrdom." 
 
 But she saw that the party was not what he 
 was thinking of, he scarcely followed the words 
 she was saying. He made a step towards her 
 and moved his lips. 
 
 " I want to apologise," he said, " for a remark 
 that I made to you yesterday outside the 
 drawing-room a remark about Broughton. Will 
 you try and forgive me ? " 
 
 Forgive him, when all the time she was 
 needing forgiveness herself for her weakness 
 and her lack of honour towards a man who after 
 all had done her no injury. Even if he was 
 inferior to George Broughton, to Fitzherbert, 
 she had no right to treat him with duplicity. 
 
 " It is I who need forgiveness," said Maud, 
 without moving. He glanced at her swiftly 
 and searchingly. 
 
 ' That may or may not be, but it is easier for 
 me to forgive you. In this short time I have 
 learned to forgive you even for giving me great 
 pain. I cannot conceive myself refusing you 
 
 forgiveness for anything except ," here he 
 
 paused as if unable to pronounce the words. 
 
 Maud knew what he meant except failure 
 to keep her promise !
 
 142 TWO SINNERS 
 
 In proportion as his passion had grown, his 
 pride had fallen. It had come to this, that her 
 lack of sympathy, her unflattering criticism of 
 him, counted to him as nothing. That was 
 folly. In that case did he really deserve so much 
 consideration from her ? 
 
 This thought plunged her into a revulsion of 
 self-pity. Had he not given her a sort of right 
 to keep him and yet to be unkind to him if she 
 liked ? Oh, no, no, that was a dishonourable 
 thought. And yet 
 
 ' You could forgive anything," she said, not 
 daring to meet his eyes but speaking low and 
 looking on the floor, for she was ignoring his 
 real meaning. ' You could forgive anything 
 except finding me religious or mystical that 
 would be to you unforgivably absurd and 
 repellant " 
 
 " By God ! " he burst out. " It would not. 
 I make no pretence to religion myself I wouldn't 
 lie to you on such a matter, but you are free to 
 think what you like." 
 
 ' Thanks," said Maud. 
 
 " I love you so much," said Kames, in a low 
 voice, " that it seems to me standing here 
 and looking at you as I do now that there are 
 no thoughts of yours that could be repulsive to 
 me no thoughts, true or false, that I could not 
 tolerate, or even express myself at your com- 
 mand ! " 
 
 He was making it more and more difficult 
 for her to retrace her steps. Underneath this 
 seeming humility lurked the tyranny of a despot.
 
 TWO SINNERS 143 
 
 His love was like a serpent. He meant to wind 
 himself round her soul till he suffocated it. 
 
 ' Why do you think you can change your 
 nature ? " she asked, with raised eyebrows of 
 incredulity. 
 
 " You don't know all that my nature is," he 
 said, " nor do you fully know yours. There 
 are moments when I am tempted to think that 
 did we really know ourselves we should die with 
 laughing or go mad." 
 
 Maud's cheeks from turning pale turned red 
 and her pulses beat. There was something in 
 this man that frightened her, repelled her, 
 attracted her. She said to herself over and over 
 again that his personality was too strong for 
 her, that face to face with him she was not her 
 true self and this half truth, half falsehood, 
 she iterated to herself fiercely as a verbal justifi- 
 cation of her weakness. 
 
 " Don't keep me, let me go please," she said, 
 pulling her hand from his. " Forgive me, good 
 night," and she ran away from him to the stairs. 
 She ran up them not daring to look back. He 
 did not call her, the hall was silent behind her. 
 
 How much longer was she to go on torturing 
 herself, and him ? 
 
 She heard the hall-door close as she reached 
 the landing. She stood, her hand on her beating 
 heart, listening. She thought she could hear 
 him call out something to his chauffeur and then 
 the car whizzed away down the wet, slushy 
 street. Mysticism ! the spiritual life ! What 
 right had she to speak of them, mere words that
 
 144 TWO SINNERS 
 
 a parrot could repeat if it had heard Father 
 Fitzherbert use them ? 
 
 Mysticism ! Why, the curse of her whole 
 life was that the world we see and touch and the 
 love of that world was her dominant passion. 
 
 " Here's a letter for you," said Lady Dorothy, 
 who was sipping a cup of cocoa with Kiddie on 
 her knees. 
 
 Maud took it and opened it. It was from 
 Ursula. It was all about Stella's engagement, a 
 letter full of sympathy and sisterly affection. 
 House-hunting was, of course, at an end and the 
 Brighton lodgings were taken on till the end of 
 July. Ursula said nothing about what would 
 happen to herself after that ! 
 
 Maud looked up from the letter and sat 
 thinking. Would Aunt Dorothy be inconsolable 
 when the time came to tell her that Lionel must 
 cease to come to No. 2, Brown Street that the 
 engagement was broken off would she be 
 inconsolable, or would she be much annoyed, 
 or would she be a little contemptuous ? 
 
 " Anyhow, Ursula will be happy at last ! " 
 said Maud, bitterly to herself. " Poor, poor 
 Ursula ! " 
 
 " My plan " called out Lady Dorothy, 
 
 " my plan to-morrow is to send out Kiddie for a 
 walk in the morning and then he will not mind 
 so much being imprisoned all the afternoon 
 in my room. I wish I could have him in the 
 drawing-room, but I think it would scarcely 
 do it will be Lionel's first Sunday afternoon in 
 this house and he's going to sing for me. People
 
 TWO SINNEUS 145 
 
 who perform, however charming they are, seem 
 so extraordinarily sensitive about any other 
 noise going on at the same time in the room 
 and I would not for the world annoy that good- 
 natured man. Another Sunday, and Kiddie and 
 he will be firm friends and then we shall see 
 what we shall see ! " 
 
 Kiddie gazed out into the room from his 
 mistress's lap and appeared to listen and under- 
 stand though he made no response. 
 
 " I have never come across any one more 
 obliging than Lionel Kames," continued Lady 
 Dorothy. " He will make an ideal husband 
 and he admires you so much that he will allow 
 himself to be ruled by you, lucky girl ! " 
 
 Maud looked away from her aunt towards 
 the fire. 
 
 " A man is only ruled by his wife if she is 
 selfish, or silly, or a little coarse ; then he allows 
 her to tread upon him and is faithful. Women 
 are just the same. If a woman marries a really 
 good man, she is fretful and discontented, full 
 of extremes and silly ambitions of her own 
 if he's a brute she spends her life looking after 
 him, considering him, loving him, praying for 
 him!" 
 
 " Maud ! " said Lady Dorothy, " you haven't 
 yet got over your quite unnecessary and very 
 strange walk this afternoon." 
 
 'I can't help what I see around me, Aunt 
 Dorothy," said Maud. " I didn't invent human 
 nature, I only observe it." 
 
 " Then you observe it wrongly, my dear," 
 
 L
 
 146 TWO SINNERS 
 
 said Lady Dorothy. " Now I've got something 
 to tell you that will cheer you up Lionel is 
 giving a dinner the week after next at Orpenden, 
 for us to meet some of his friends in the neigh- 
 bourhood. He has asked me to act as hostess, 
 and to-morrow he will consult you and me as to 
 the day that will suit us best. I shall wear the 
 Monckton collarette, the only bit of respectability 
 we have left to us. I must get it out of the 
 bank."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ALL that restless night Maud dreamed of the 
 dimly lit chapel in which she had met and had 
 talked with Fitzherbert. Now in her dreams 
 their conversation was constantly interrupted 
 by unaccountable intrusions of her Aunt Dorothy, 
 who came into that sacred place with Kiddie on 
 her arm, announcing startling news of Lionel 
 Kames, either that he was dead, that he had 
 suddenly married, or that he himself wished the 
 engagement broken off. When Maud woke to 
 the usual Sunday morning in Brown Street, 
 she found the grey daylight waiting for her, 
 suggesting the duller and more sordid side of 
 life, the weariness of poverty, of loneliness. 
 If it had seemed hard last night, when her nerves 
 were still tingling with her interview with 
 Fitzherbert, to take the straight and honourable 
 course and break off the engagement, it seemed 
 still harder now when that interview lay back 
 in the memories of a " yesterday." Lady 
 Dorothy was fussing about Kiddie, fussing about 
 going to church, fussing about the party ; she 
 put half a sovereign instead of sixpence into the 
 bag at church, which did not contribute to the 
 calm of her mind. 
 
 Maud decided to say nothing until the party 
 was over. After that she must speak !
 
 148 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Until the first comers arrived that afternoon 
 Maud had not perfectly realised that this party 
 was really meant by her Aunt Dorothy as a sort 
 of seal on the engagement. The truth came upon 
 her with unpleasant emphasis. 
 
 The news of Maud's approaching marriage 
 to a wealthy man brought people who generally 
 refused Lady Dorothy's invitations, when excuse 
 was possible, and the drawing-room of No. 2, 
 Brown Street, was crowded as it had not been 
 for many a year. Maud found herself the centre 
 of a buzz of complimentary talk, of questions 
 regarding her future, about Orpenden, about 
 " when it was to come off," and Lady Dorothy 
 was moving about the room full of undisguised 
 satisfaction, receiving congratulations. Maud 
 had put off the " crisis " till after the party, and 
 now the party itself would make the crisis seem 
 not merely an unfortunate circumstance but 
 a scandal. Here Maud was in a false position, 
 and no one else was to blame for her suffering 
 but herself. She ought to have spoken out 
 long ago. Now it was getting to be " too late." 
 The heat of the room soon became oppressive. 
 Lady Dorothy had the old-fashioned belief that, 
 although plenty of fresh air was theoretically 
 (as held by men of science) necessary for the 
 human organism, as a matter of fact and to the 
 knowledge of every plain sensible man (whose 
 reason has not been undermined by learning) 
 fresh air should be indulged in sparingly. 
 
 All the windows in the drawing-room were 
 shut, but " more than enough " fresh air was
 
 TWO SINNERS 149 
 
 obtained through the open door into Lady 
 Dorothy's writing-room. 
 
 Maud dared not ask to have a window opened, 
 though her head ached. She was filled with a 
 strange kind of pleasurable agony of self-con- 
 tempt at being evidently considered a " successful 
 person." It was a new kind of experience ; 
 it would not last long, but while it lasted it was 
 like drinking a cup of nectar at the bottom of 
 which lurked a corrosive poison. 
 
 People were actually talking to her about the 
 beauties of Orpenden. Somebody even knew 
 that there was a famous rose-garden at Orpenden 
 and she was drawn deeper and deeper into a 
 net which she had spread with her own hands. 
 She had never heard of Orpenden till she met 
 Lionel ! She never ought to have entered its 
 gates as its future mistress. Now, Orpenden 
 was tied round her neck. She was credited with 
 it she could neither endure life in it nor 
 without it. That was the horrible dilemma ! 
 
 Maud glanced nervously round her. Had 
 Lionel arrived yet ? Was he within hearing of 
 all this about Orpenden ? He had only just 
 entered the room. There he was at the door, 
 and his conspicuous figure was greeted by a lull 
 of voices. Then the clamour became all the 
 greater. Maud became almost fiercely calm. 
 It was destiny that had forced her into this 
 engagement, it was forcing her into marriage ; 
 had she not better drift down with the stream 
 and let it take her whither it would ? Perhaps, 
 convinced that it wag her destiny, she might
 
 150 TWO SINNERS 
 
 even learn to pretend to love him. Was 
 she strong enough ? Could she make herself 
 strong enough ? She would need to be very 
 strong ! 
 
 Somebody sang a song about lovers being 
 parted for no specified reason, the sort of song 
 that Lady Dorothy thought decorous on Sunday. 
 Maud's eyes drifted round again to where Kames 
 was standing. He had got as far as the centre 
 of the room and was being introduced to people 
 by Lady Dorothy in a voice laden with self- 
 satisfaction. Kames watchfully caught her 
 glance, and his eyes said : " You have not yet 
 spoken to me." He looked as if he was about 
 to break away from Lady Dorothy and Maud 
 shook her head slightly at him, but her lips 
 smiled. 
 
 It was only the briefest recognition of him, 
 the faintest sign of sympathy, and she was 
 startled to see the effect it had on him. The 
 contrast between Lionel on that first afternoon 
 of their engagement when they lunched together 
 at Eastbourne, and Lionel this afternoon here 
 at No. 2, Brown Street, was very great. Was she 
 not wronging him outrageously ? What right 
 had she to allow herself to become a necessity 
 to him, and then to say " No " ? She had no 
 right. 
 
 When the crowd had gone and the excitement 
 was over, would not this brief momentary mood 
 of toleration of him pass away, and would she 
 not, pledged bride as she was, repulse him as 
 before ? Would not her old instinct be too
 
 TWO SINNEES 151 
 
 strong for her ? She would wait and see. She 
 might try being strong. 
 
 The afternoon was slipping slowly away and 
 Lionel had not played or sung. Lady Dorothy 
 had asked one of her youthful friends for a 
 Sonata by Beethoven or some other classical com- 
 poser, because she considered the determined and 
 persevering exposition of permutations and com- 
 binations in sound the best background to con- 
 versation and a stimulus to perfectly irrelevant 
 thought. The young lady to whom the request 
 was made either being unable, or unwilling, to 
 perform the task, played instead the newest 
 drawing-room composition of the newest French 
 composer. This composition resembled as nearly 
 as possible the usual efforts of a piano- tuner to 
 tune the piano, and for some reason unexplained 
 to Lady Dorothy that reminded her suddenly 
 that though she had been busy telling every- 
 body that Major Kames was not merely a rider to 
 hounds but an accomplished musician, her 
 guests had not yet had the opportunity of 
 judging for themselves, and the afternoon was 
 wearing swiftly to a close. It really felt a little 
 warm in the drawing-room and Lady Dorothy 
 opened the door into the writing-room wider, 
 and pulled the heavy carved screen that con- 
 cealed the room and its contents a trifle on one 
 side. 
 
 " There," she said, " more air." 
 
 Kames was at her side at that moment, ready 
 to help her. 
 
 " Shall I open a window ? " he asked. Lady
 
 152 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Dorothy pretended not to hear such an outrageous 
 suggestion. 
 
 " I almost thought I heard his voice," she 
 said, as she turned back to the drawing-room 
 again. 
 
 " The Kid's voice ? " inquired Kames. 
 
 ' Yes, the angel's," said Lady Dorothy. 
 " It has been such a long afternoon for him." 
 
 " He can't read a paper and smoke to while 
 away the time," said Kames. 
 
 " How true ! " exclaimed Lady Dorothy. 
 ' You are such a clever man. Now that never 
 occurred to me before, though I am so devoted 
 to him. You must understand as few people 
 do that if you keep a dog it ought to be a point 
 of honour to treat the poor, dumb, helpless 
 animal justly, otherwise it isn't what you people 
 call ' playing the game.' By the bye, it's getting 
 late and you haven't sung yet I expect people 
 are staying on to hear you ; I've told everybody 
 what a musician you are." 
 
 Lady Dorothy looked tired for years she 
 had not had so much excitement. 
 
 ' You have told them ! " exclaimed Kames. 
 ' Well, one good turn deserves another. Do you 
 want to get rid of the crowd and hurry upstairs 
 to the lonely orphan ? Because if you do, I'll 
 clear 'em out like the very devil and bring the 
 proceedings to a close." 
 
 " My dear Lionel," she said, laughing, " what 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 He really was the most unusual and most 
 helpful man she had ever known ; the afternoon
 
 TWO SINNERS 153 
 
 was getting a little fatiguing, though it had been 
 so successful. Kames, however, did not answer 
 her question. He had disappeared. 
 
 Maud was standing by the piano talking to 
 two or three young married women of her own 
 age. One of them was saying to her 
 
 " Aren't you charmed with Orpenden ? " 
 Always, always Orpenden ! 
 
 Maud was leaning one hand upon the piano, 
 feeling almost faint with the heat and yet 
 dreading the moment when the crowd should 
 go and leave her face to face with Kames alone. 
 
 " Lady Dorothy commands me to sing," said 
 Kames, suddenly touching Maud's shoulder, and 
 bending down, he added in a voice that no one 
 but herself could hear : 
 
 " I am going to sing something for your 
 special benefit, nobody else will know what the 
 deuce it's all about." 
 
 A song for her special benefit ? Maud moved 
 away as swiftly as she could. Was he going to 
 sing her a love-song in this public place, among 
 this crowd of people good-naturedly attracted 
 hither by the pleasant rumour of money, of 
 prosperity ? 
 
 No, not that ; they could understand a love- 
 song as well as she could, unless indeed it was 
 something very subtle. 
 
 What did he mean ? Was he drawing her 
 still deeper into the bonds that bound her to 
 him ? Was he making it more and more im- 
 possible for her to release herself ? 
 
 Sheer nervousness made her shrink away
 
 154 TWO SINNEKS 
 
 without looking at him and without glancing 
 at any one. The nearest door was the open one 
 into the writing-room. She must escape. She 
 could not bear to hear that song, sung especially 
 for her. It had been agony to hear that song 
 of Grieg's at Orpenden. This might be worse. 
 She did not want to listen to his secret thoughts ; 
 such thoughts could only be weapons with which 
 to wound her, frighten her ; and she slipped 
 past the open door, past the heavy carved screen, 
 and stood in the writing-room, breathing as if 
 she had run, trying not to hear the sounds from 
 the drawing-room. Should she escape still 
 farther and go out to the landing ? The draw- 
 ing-room door was already wide open on to the 
 landing and there were probably some people 
 standing there. She was in a trap, but she was 
 safer here. Ah, here was the dreaded sound 
 coming. Chords on the piano were struck very 
 forcibly ; then they got fainter as if the player 
 was gradually moving away from the crowd and 
 receding into the distance. Maud could feel 
 the hair stir upon her head, as if the presence 
 of some supernatural being was announced. The 
 noise of talking suddenly ceased, and from that 
 distance whence the singer seemed to have 
 removed himself came his voice, the voice she 
 dreaded. But how different from the voice 
 with which he had sung in the drawing-room at 
 Orpenden ! Human passion had died out of it 
 and he seemed like a man wrapt in a profound 
 reverie, struggling with some mystical obscure 
 thought. The words were unknown to her :
 
 TWO SINNERS 155 
 
 " I knew not where I entered, 
 For when I stood within, 
 Not knowing where I stood, 
 
 I heard great things. 
 What I have heard I dare not tell ! 
 I was there as one who knew nought, 
 
 All human thought transcending," 
 
 When his voice ceased Maud held her breath, 
 waited and hoped that it would come again. 
 The same chords were repeated but in a higher 
 key, and the voice came again : 
 
 " I stood enraptured 
 In ecstasy, beside myself, 
 And in my every sense 
 
 No sense remained. 
 My spirit was endowed 
 With understanding, understanding nought, 
 
 All human thought transcending.' 1 
 
 Maud held her breath and waited and hoped 
 again, but the song was finished and the last 
 notes of the piano died away. It was cruelly 
 short, and already the sensation of the common 
 world was rushing upon her again. She could 
 hear the loud, jarring, discordant, confused noise 
 of people strongly desirous to get away, a hubbub 
 of good-byes, no doubt graced by the brief 
 complimentary phrases that are useful to people 
 who are afraid of being bored a second time ; 
 she could hear hurried steps on the landing, down 
 the stairs. Maud could hear her own name 
 called out as if she was being sought and yet 
 she did not move. A sudden rush of cold air 
 swept under the door to her. She could hear 
 the subdued snorting of motors : once she
 
 156 TWO SINNERS 
 
 thought she could distinguish Lionel's voice and 
 her Aunt Dorothy's she could hear plainly, and 
 yet she did not move. 
 
 As she stood staring helplessly before her, 
 something gradually entered her consciousness. 
 The room was empty and yet she was not alone ! 
 She was really looking at something at some 
 one. A human form was between her and the 
 screen. She could see it plainly in the nickering 
 light of the fire ! Who was it ? 
 
 She knew the gaunt figure in a flash ! She 
 recognised it ! He was standing in front of the 
 screen with his back towards her. His arms 
 were clasped behind him, and she saw the thin- 
 ness of his wrists ; his head was bent, his iron- 
 grey hair was conspicuous. How amazing ! 
 He was there in flesh and blood, and yet his 
 presence was impossible. " Father Fitzherbert," 
 she called very softly, afraid of her own voice, 
 afraid of calling upon some one who she knew 
 could not be there although he was there. 
 
 As his name left her lips the form became 
 less distinct, and her startled eyes were aware 
 that the head had disappeared, the iron-grey 
 hair ; then the hands, so definite a moment ago, 
 melted away, and in their place were the large 
 ivory chrysanthemums in a panel of the screen. 
 A fragment of the cassock was still visible. She 
 stretched her hands out into empty air, the 
 cassock vanished and she was absolutely alone. 
 
 Had that strange song which enthralled her 
 which was meant to enthral her been chal- 
 lenged by the occult world ? Was that phantom
 
 TWO SINNERS 157 
 
 of Fitzherbert projected into space as a protest 
 from the real spiritual world against the artifice 
 of genius ? Or was that vision the work of her 
 own subconscious memory asserting itself her 
 truer self reminding her frailer self of human 
 faith and human duty, of honour that she was 
 always forgetting, of the urgent moral necessity 
 either to send this man away, or to take him 
 now and for always as her friend and lover ? 
 
 Maud shuddered. A sound came to her of 
 the front-door banging, a gust of wind blew in 
 from the staircase and made the fire flicker with 
 a sudden blaze. She could hear footsteps hurry- 
 ing from below upstairs, past the door and then 
 again upstairs ; then came silence. 
 
 Her cheeks were cold now ; she felt an icy 
 chill in all her veins. 
 
 Some one was coming into the room from the 
 drawing-room. It was Kames ; he pushed past 
 the screen and stood before her. 
 
 " Maud ! " he said. 
 
 She did not move. 
 
 He stood there, a man shorn of all his old 
 self-possession, his satisfaction with the world, 
 his humour, his buoyancy. An unbearable 
 emotion, a piercing ache that caught him below 
 the heart was wringing out of him all the garnered 
 self-complacency of a pampered manhood. He 
 stood there silent, protesting with his eyes ; no 
 phrases came to his lips. He held out his arms 
 to her, but she did not move. At last he came 
 forward with a rapid step and caught her to him. 
 
 " Maud, try to love me," he said. He lifted
 
 158 TWO SINNEES 
 
 her arms to his neck, but they fell limply from 
 his shoulders and fell at her side. Not all the 
 fire of his own passion could rouse in her any 
 response. 
 
 She strained her face away from him. 
 
 " It is hopeless," she said. " Every way it 
 is hopeless 1 " 
 
 He took her face in his hands. 
 
 " Love me," he said. 
 
 " I can't Lionel I can't ! " 
 
 The words that ought to have been uttered 
 long ago were uttered at last and they could 
 never be withdrawn. 
 
 A piercing sound, a dog's bark, seemed to 
 strike at them from the door behind them ; some 
 one was coming in. Dizzy as Maud was, she 
 realised in a flash that her Aunt Dorothy was 
 there, standing, amazed, stricken at the scene. 
 
 Maud released herself from Kames's arms. 
 
 " It's all over between us," she said, 
 stammering ; " it's all over," and she made 
 her way blindly past Lady Dorothy and went 
 out at the door. 
 
 Lady Dorothy stood just as she had entered 
 the room by the door with Kiddie in her arms, 
 staring with blank consternation. 
 
 " Lionel ! " she cried. " You won't allow 
 this ! " 
 
 Then she turned on the lights, as if that would 
 dispel the nightmare. But there was Kames, 
 his head bent, his features contracted, silent, 
 like a pugilist who has been dealt a blow from 
 which he cannot recover.
 
 TWO SINNERS 159 
 
 " Lionel ! " cried Lady Dorothy. " This is 
 nonsense, is it not ? this is a silly fad of Maud's, 
 nothing more ? She's quarrelled with you.'* 
 
 Kames raised his head. 
 
 " From the very first she never cared for me. 
 I tried to overcome that and I failed. Don't 
 blame her, nor me." 
 
 " I do blame her," cried Lady Dorothy, 
 " for allowing " 
 
 " Don't blame her," said Kames drearily. 
 " I don't blame her, and God knows it's I who 
 have lost everything. It's off and there's no 
 going back." He pulled himself together and 
 walked up to Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " Surely " she began. 
 
 " No ! There's no going back. I've had my 
 sentence. Thanks for all your kindness, and 
 good-bye ! " He bent over her hand, and before 
 she could recover herself he had passed her and 
 had gone out and down the stairs. She clutched 
 at Kiddie, pressing him against her ; he too 
 seemed cowed and quiescent. 
 
 " Oh, what a wretched piece of work ! " 
 moaned the old lady. Then she went to the 
 easy-chair and sinking into it burst into tears. 
 " No more Major Kames ! Oh, Maud, Maud, 
 what a wicked what a fool you are ! " groaned 
 Lady Dorothy.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MOEE than four months had passed away 
 slowly enough. All that spring was to Maud 
 nothing now but a sinister memory the memory 
 of her illness in their lodgings at Brighton an 
 illness lasting some weeks, through which Ursula 
 had watched over her with inexhaustible patience, 
 never once alluding to the cause of that illness, 
 never mentioning the past nor suggesting a 
 plan for the future. 
 
 At last summer had come in all its first 
 freshness, and Maud felt well again. The 
 early summer deepened into full heat and 
 blossom, and the great white stretch of houses 
 along the sea-front at Brighton became dazzling 
 like an Oriental city under the glare of a July 
 sun. The pavement stung their feet, the heat 
 palpitated visibly on the beach as if the particles 
 of air had become liquid. Stella was away. 
 London was the only place in the world to Stella. 
 George Broughton was there and Aunt Dorothy 
 was eager to distract her mind from the pain 
 and embarrassment of the Kames affair by having 
 Stella with her and quarrelling with her over 
 the preparation of the little flat that was to be 
 the future home of the young couple. It was a 
 comforting reflection to Lady Dorothy that at 
 least one of the two weddings was actually going
 
 TWO SINNERS 161 
 
 to take place. Maud's would have been far 
 more interesting but there it was no use 
 scolding Maud ; it was better to let Ursula 
 nurse her while she tried to make the best of 
 Stella (such as she was). 
 
 As soon as Maud had recovered her nervous 
 strength, she and Ursula had set to work at 
 making Stella's trousseau. It was to be their 
 joint wedding present to her. To Ursula it was 
 a labour of love and duty ; to Maud it was a 
 self-imposed penance, a task of bitter sweetness 
 to which she felt herself justly condemned, a 
 task of proper humility from which she tried hard 
 to purge all self-pity. 
 
 In all their desultory talks together in the 
 long lovely summer evenings over their work, 
 the two sisters still refrained from speaking to 
 each other of what touched them to the quick, 
 Lionel Kames, and what they were to do 
 where they were to go after Stella's wedding 
 was over ? The lodgings ceased to be theirs 
 after July 29 that had been arranged long ago, 
 and they were already let to strangers. 
 
 Often and often as she bent over her stitch- 
 ing, Ursula would glance furtively at Maud and 
 wonder if she dared ask that question, " What 
 shall we do ? Where shall we go ? " Maud 
 seemed more self-controlled, more uniformly 
 cheerful than she had been before, but she had 
 become remote and unapproachable. Her be- 
 haviour was affectionate, considerate, even at 
 times tender, but she had clothed herself in an 
 impenetrable reserve and forbade any intrusion. 
 
 M
 
 162 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Ursula sighed, for she knew behind that im- 
 penetrable silence lay wounded pride and acute 
 disappointment. 
 
 Many a day had Maud lingered by the railings 
 of the Parade, looking over at the summer sea, 
 recalling that afternoon in February so eventful 
 at the time and the strangeness of that sunset. 
 The impulse had come upon her now and again 
 to write to Fitzherbert and tell him that she had 
 done what she believed to be right, and that 
 " the earth had grown grey " in the light of that 
 duty. The impulse to write had been strong, 
 but it had always been overcome by a feeling of 
 pride. By this time he might even have forgotten 
 who she was. Fancy looking for an intimate 
 sympathy and having to explain who you were ! 
 
 On July 22 Stella was to be married. The 
 time was almost at hand, and Maud was bracing 
 herself up to go through the ordeal. When that 
 ordeal was over they had to pack their own 
 possessions, and after a brief holiday away 
 somewhere it didn't matter where the ques- 
 tion must be settled, where to live the silence 
 must be broken. Maud did not know which 
 would give her the most intolerable pain, seeing 
 her Aunt Dorothy again after all that had passed, 
 seeing George Broughton again, seeing Stella's 
 future home, or meeting at the wedding Brough- 
 ton's relatives and many of the very people 
 who had congratulated her on her future posses- 
 sion of Orpenden. 
 
 Endure all this she must, and she must endure 
 it without letting any one see that it hurt her.
 
 TWO SINNERS 163 
 
 After all, she was only suffering for her own 
 folly. No injustice had been done to her it 
 was she who was to blame ! No one had been 
 false to her no one had made her distrust 
 human nature. It w r as herself she distrusted. 
 
 On July 20 Ursula and Maud went up to town, 
 taking with them their present to Stella Stella's 
 trousseau. 
 
 No. 2, Brown Street, was full to overflowing 
 with Stella's purchases, Stella's presents and 
 Stella's happiness. Lady Dorothy got a sort 
 of grim pleasure out of it all, mingled with 
 exasperation at Stella's lack of sense. The 
 bustle and the talk distracted her from memories 
 of the wedding that ought to have been and of 
 Major Kames. When the two sisters arrived 
 at Brown Street the meeting was full of em- 
 barrassment on both sides Stella alone was too 
 buoyantly happy to care. Stella had more than 
 once communicated to George the idea that 
 Maud had fortunately discovered for herself 
 what she, Stella, had known all along and had 
 acted on that is, that Major Kames was not 
 quite suitable to be the husband of a Monckton. 
 Maud looked very much as she had looked six 
 months ago, only that her step was a little weary 
 sometimes. She kept her face under perfect 
 control and smiled quite as much as was necessary 
 for the occasion. Stella was bubbling over with 
 projects. She was going to have a model home, 
 she was going to plunge into wild success in the 
 musical world, and she was going to back up dear 
 George and dear George's ambitions. She was
 
 161 TWO SINNERS 
 
 going to help him. She was going to stalk into 
 his laboratory, look round her, and get a sort 
 of swift comprehensive bird's eye view of bio- 
 logical science. Then she could aid him with 
 suggestions, with flashes of feminine insight. 
 Hitherto there hadn't been time because of all 
 the shopping. 
 
 And what about George ? Maud searched 
 his face for his thoughts. He, too, was radiant 
 and no less confident than Stella. He knew that 
 he would be able to work as he had never worked 
 before ; he was as gay as a schoolboy on a 
 holiday. 
 
 " It's a merciful thing that Stella had me at her 
 back," grumbled Lady Dorothy, " or I don't know 
 what intolerable rubbish she would have bought." 
 
 This sent Broughton into fits of delighted 
 laughter, and made the future husband and wife 
 glance at each other with a secret understanding 
 and a generous forgiveness for the old lady. How 
 gay the world was ! how brilliant Stella's cheeks ! 
 
 On the day of the wedding, even with Ursula's 
 and Maud's help, Stella managed to mislay 
 everything she could mislay. George had given 
 her pearl earrings and these could not be found 
 when it was time to dress. After a frantic 
 search had been made, they were found under 
 her dressing-table, and then the turquoise ear- 
 rings disappeared, the earrings in which Stella had 
 lived and moved and had her being for so long. 
 
 The wonder was that the bride ever reached 
 the church. But she came at last ; and even 
 Maud, looking at her, doubted if she had ever
 
 TWO SINNERS 165 
 
 seen a handsomer girl. Broughton was full of 
 reverent attention. 
 
 Alas ! Kiddie was not present at the cere- 
 mojiy. He had been decorated with a white 
 bow by the bride's own hands, and then he was 
 left behind shrieking in the drawing-room at a 
 window. It was, indeed, his face that they saw first 
 on their return from church when the ceremony 
 was over and Stella was Mrs. George Broughton. 
 
 How hot London was ! and how hot the 
 rooms at No. 2, Brown Street ! 
 
 " Think of us," said Broughton gaily, " cross- 
 ing the Channel at five o'clock and getting a 
 breath of fresh air ! " He was giving a last 
 shake of the hand to Ursula as he spoke. 
 
 They were all gathering in the hall to see the 
 last of Stella and her husband. 
 
 " I say, Aunt Dorothy," added Broughton 
 " shall we take Kiddie with us ? I'll promise 
 to be kind to him." 
 
 " I couldn't let the cruel man have him," 
 said Lady Dorothy, " but he shall wave a little 
 paw to you as you go off." 
 
 So the bride and bridegroom went down the 
 front steps, and Maud, flushed with fatigue 
 and with a great yearning void at her heart, 
 stood at the doorway with Ursula and her aunt. 
 Broughton got into the motor-brougham, the 
 door was banged to ; then came a waving of 
 hands and the whirr of the motor. 
 
 The buzz caused by the crowd that always 
 gathers at the door of a wedding and the traffic 
 of the streets was pierced by Kiddie's farewell
 
 166 TWO SINNERS 
 
 screams. His struggles were so frantic that 
 Lady Dorothy let him slip to the ground so that 
 she could be free to wave her hand. The car 
 moved, the obstinate crowd were pushed aside 
 by a policeman, but for a moment the car backed 
 to get a clear path, then it swerved and then 
 jerked forward again, and as it did so a sound 
 struck on Maud's ears. She turned swiftly and 
 looked at Lady Dorothy. 
 
 S( They are gone," said Lady Dorothy and 
 she sighed for one brief moment she had even 
 forgotten Kiddie. She turned back into the hall 
 and sighed again, for there is something profoundly 
 sad as well as profoundly joyful in the breaking 
 off of an old life to begin a new life. Why 
 there should be this dual emotion in her heart 
 Lady Dorothy did not know, but there it was ! 
 
 '' Ursula," whispered Maud, laying a sudden 
 hand on her sister's arm, " something has hap- 
 pened to Kiddie. Take Aunt Dorothy upstairs ; 
 don't let her know anything till the people have 
 gone." 
 
 Out from the moving crowd, up the steps, 
 Maud saw Jackson coming towards her, his face 
 white. He had something in his arms. 
 
 "The dog's dead, Miss," he said. " The 
 ribbon must have been loose, and when the car 
 backed, caught it and pulled him under. What's 
 to be done with her ladyship, I don't know." 
 
 Kiddie lay in his arms, limp and lifeless, the 
 wedding favour was pulled out into a crushed 
 and dirty string. That minute personality, 
 with all its vices and its virtues had ceased to be.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 IF Jackson had been asked any day these last 
 eight years whether he would rejoice at Kiddie's 
 decease, he would have replied in the affirmative. 
 Not only the dog, but the dog's shop where the 
 dog was measured for his coats, was loathed by 
 Jackson with a loathing that he was never able 
 to express in adequate words. But now on this 
 fateful day in July when Kiddie lay in his arms 
 for the last time, motionless and noiseless, the 
 accumulated wrath of years vanished from 
 Jackson's mind and left him occupied with 
 suitable arrangements for Kiddie's interment 
 to the exclusion of other thought. 
 
 Her ladyship was prostrate. Miss Monckton 
 and Miss Maud had as much as they could do to 
 look after her, and to Jackson fell the duty of 
 writing to the dog's shop to order a box lined 
 with white satin, in which Kiddie's remains could 
 be reverently buried in the little square of garden 
 behind the house whence Kiddie used to chase 
 the cats in the days agone. Jackson had just 
 written the letter, and Mrs. Jackson, who had 
 kept house for many a long year, flushed with the 
 complicated events of the day was leaning over 
 his shoulder looking at it. 
 
 ' 'Ow you can sign yourself ' yours truly '
 
 168 TWO SINNERS 
 
 to a shop which always annoys you, is more than 
 I can believe," she remarked. 
 
 Jackson folded the letter into the envelope. 
 He meant to go out and post it to catch the 
 midnight post. There were fully five minutes 
 to spare. 
 
 " As far as this 'ere flowery business is con- 
 cerned, I h'am ' yours truly,' and very much 
 so," he said, as he took out his watch. 
 
 " She may get a worse dog," suggested Mrs. 
 Jackson. 
 
 " There ain't no worse ones," said Jackson ; 
 " he was the limit. But he don't exist now." 
 
 " 'Ow do you know that, Jackson ? " said 
 Mrs. Jackson, moving away from her spouse. 
 
 It was this doubt suggested by Mrs. Jackson 
 in the secrecy of the " room," that tormented 
 Lady Dorothy upstairs in her bedroom, as she 
 lay in bed sleepless. Her face, built to express 
 self-esteem and propriety, looked strangely 
 altered in its abandonment of woe. Even the 
 pink ribbons that tied back her grey hair were 
 Hmp and twisted. She blinked wretchedly at 
 the couch where Kiddie's little basket was 
 reverently placed and covered with a white cloth. 
 
 '' Yes," she said, in answer to some soothing 
 talk from Ursula, " but no one can understand 
 but I." She glanced round the room fretfully 
 for Maud. 
 
 Into Lady Dorothy's stricken heart a half- 
 unconscious jealousy had sprung into existence. 
 She had never cared for Ursula : she disliked 
 having a middle-aged niece with her, she disliked
 
 TWO SINNERS 169 
 
 Ursula's grey hair and disliked her eye glares 
 Ursula was too much a reduplication of herself 
 in appearance. Now, as the emptiness of life 
 stared Lady Dorothy hard in the face, she began 
 to feel jealous of Ursula. Lady Dorothy had 
 lost her husband and had lost her dog, but 
 Ursula had not lost Maud. Maud belonged to 
 Ursula ; between Maud and herself stood Ursula. 
 
 " He was spared old age," said Ursula gently. 
 " He must have been killed in a moment it 
 must have been almost painless." 
 
 Lady Dorothy was not to be consoled so 
 easily. Although Kiddie could not be prepared 
 (in the usual way) for the next world (if there 
 is one for dogs), there might be (who knows ?) 
 some way of making him understand that the 
 parting was not for ever. ' You've never lost 
 anybody recently," moaned Lady Dorothy, 
 and then she added almost in the same sob, 
 " Where's Maud ? " 
 
 After the bustle, noise and excitement of 
 the day, No. 2, Brown Street was still ; except in 
 the servants' quarter, the lower part of the 
 house was in darkness. Maud was in the dressing- 
 room, where by her aunt's urgent request a bed 
 had been made for her. At the sound of her 
 Aunt Dorothy's call Maud opened the door and 
 came into the room. 
 
 " Go to bed, Ursula," said Maud, in a low 
 voice. " I shall leave the dressing-room door 
 wide open so that Aunt Dorothy can call me any 
 moment. It is nearly half -past twelve and you 
 look frightfully tired."
 
 170 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Maud followed her sister to the door and 
 then at a sign from her followed her into the 
 passage. " I want to speak to you," said 
 Ursula, in a whisper. " Aunt Dorothy will be 
 better quite alone with you I think I irritate 
 her. Now some one must go back to our Brighton 
 lodgings to pack up all our things and warehouse 
 them. I will go to-morrow by the first morning 
 train. You will stay behind, dear, and try and 
 comfort poor Aunt Dorothy." 
 
 Ursula spoke in a tone of command. She 
 always did that when what she commanded 
 was what she knew would best please Maud. 
 She never discovered that by doing so she 
 betrayed herself ; the idea did not cross her 
 mind, her guile was so simple. 
 
 Maud stood looking at her sister's face. 
 " Can you do the packing alone ? " she asked, 
 and her eyes fell. 
 
 The pretence was meaningless Ursula was 
 one of those women who always can do every- 
 thing alone. Maud knew it, had always known 
 it, but she had to say something she had to 
 pretend to protest. 
 
 " I don't need you," said Ursula, " and I 
 will send you anything you want. I shall know 
 what you are likely to need for now and for our 
 holiday together." 
 
 " Yes," said Maud slowly " for our holiday 
 together," and she stood with downcast eyes. 
 
 " Good night, dear," said Ursula and kissed 
 her. She waited for one brief moment, but 
 Maud said nothing except " Good night." Ursula
 
 TWO SINNERS 171 
 
 moved away. Maud went into her aunt's bed- 
 room. " I am going to bed, dear Aunt Dorothy," 
 she said, going up to the old lady. " I shall 
 hear you if you call ever so softly. Will that 
 content you ? " 
 
 Lady Dorothy sighed. 
 
 " Try and sleep," said Maud, " if you can." 
 
 " I can't sleep, child," was the reply. 
 
 " Try," said Maud again, and she bent down 
 and kissed her aunt's cheek. Then she went 
 back into the dressing-room, leaving the door 
 wide open. 
 
 Maud lay awake thinking. Ursula had hoped 
 that when she said " Good night " Maud would 
 say something about that " holiday together," 
 would give some sign that she anticipated, 
 valued, the future that the two sisters were to 
 spend together and Maud had said nothing. 
 Even now, almost at the hour of parting, she 
 had not broken the reserve. To the same old 
 obstinate refusal to face the inevitable, to the 
 same feeble procrastinating spirit to which she 
 had sacrificed Lionel, she was now sacrificing 
 Ursula. 
 
 How was she to fight against her weakness ? 
 How conquer her moral cowardice and make 
 herself strong ? With Lionel, the stimulus to 
 speak out had at last come to her through the 
 sudden interposition of Fitzherbert. Now, who 
 was there who could help her ? 
 
 As she lay thinking in the darkness she heard 
 a voice. A footstep was outside her door and 
 she heard a rustle.
 
 172 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " Aunt Dorothy," she called, and she put 
 out her hand and turned on the light. 
 
 It was Lady Dorothy. Her dressing-gown 
 was wrapped carelessly round her. Her face 
 was flushed and her eyes brilliant, her hair 
 disordered. 
 
 " Maud," she said, " I can't sleep. My head 
 aches, aches with thinking." 
 
 Maud took her aunt's hands in hers they 
 were burning with fever. 
 
 " The Moncktons have had nothing but mis- 
 fortunes lately," she began, speaking hurriedly 
 and in a weak voice. :< There was your grand- 
 father who gambled the old place away ; then 
 your father was an unbeliever and lost his first 
 wife ; then Ursula never had an offer of marriage 
 in the whole of her life. Now Stella is married 
 to poor George and she'll never be able to live 
 on his income, take my word for that. Then 
 I lost my husband, and now I have lost Kiddie 
 and you." Then Lady Dorothy stared excitedly 
 at the girl. " Here you go and send away, of 
 all men in the world, Major Kames you ruin 
 your life for no reason for no proper reason. 
 It is the bad luck of the Moncktons." She 
 spoke feverishly : " Oh ! the world is a sad, sad 
 place ! " 
 
 Maud got out of bed and put her arm round 
 the thin, stiff, little figure. 
 
 " Go back to bed, dear. Come, I will take 
 you. Don't talk, don't think." 
 
 For an hour Maud watched by the bed until 
 at last her aunt's eyes closed and the old lady
 
 TWO SINNERS 173 
 
 lay still, but breathing rapidly and unevenly. 
 Kiddie's covered basket on the sofa was looking 
 solemn in the pale morning light. 
 
 Maud went to bed and slept till the household 
 was astir. 
 
 When she looked into her aunt's room she 
 
 saw her still dozing, but with some slight trace 
 
 of fever in the cheeks and in the hasty breathing. 
 
 Maud found Ursula already dressing and they 
 
 decided to telephone for the family doctor. 
 
 " It's only nerves," he said, when he went 
 downstairs with Maud, after seeing his patient ; 
 " but you must remember that she's an elderly 
 lady and you must keep her quiet." 
 " How quiet ? " asked Maud. 
 " A little bromide will probably put her all 
 right," he replied. " Keep her in bed till I 
 come again." 
 
 So Ursula went down to Brighton alone, and 
 waited for news of her Aunt Dorothy while she 
 packed her own and her sister's possessions and 
 pondered over the future. In a couple of days 
 Lady Dorothy was well enough to come down to 
 the drawing-room. Her thoughts were not solely 
 about Kiddie and the sad speculation as to 
 whether he still existed in some other state of 
 being, for the jealousy of Ursula was growing 
 within her and it culminated in a sudden flare. 
 
 " Maud," she said, from the couch where she 
 was resting, " the doctor wants me to go away. 
 You heard that ? " 
 Maud assented. 
 " I shall go abroad if you will come with me ;
 
 174 TWO SINNERS 
 
 but if Ursula objects to that, then I shall remain 
 here and I shan't go away." 
 
 She spoke with abruptness, and then taking 
 out her handkerchief shed a few tears. 
 
 " I alone, without Ursula ? " asked Maud 
 gently. 
 
 'Yes," said Lady Dorothy. "She might 
 spare you a little while surely, considering all I 
 have gone through." 
 
 Maud was silent. Would Ursula consent ? 
 Of course she would. Ursula always consented 
 to sacrifice herself. 
 
 " You don't want to go with me ? " demanded 
 Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " Yes," said Maud. She dared not say even 
 to herself that her sentence was reprieved, that 
 she could put off that final decision where she 
 and Ursula were to pass the long dreary years 
 that stared in front of them. 
 
 " Considering all you have lost and all I 
 have lost," murmured Lady Dorothy, " I think 
 we should find a little holiday abroad together 
 a real comfort to both of us. So write at once to 
 Ursula, child, and get it settled." 
 
 So Maud wrote, feeling hot and guilty and 
 excited. For twenty-four hours Lady Dorothy 
 was impatiently awaiting Ursula's reply. 
 
 " What does she say ? " she demanded of Maud 
 almost before her niece had opened the letter. 
 
 " She says ' certainly,' " said Maud, and her 
 cheeks burned, partly with shame at her own 
 thoughts. " And she will remain on at 
 Brighton."
 
 TWO SINNERS 175 
 
 " It can't really matter to her very much. 
 In fact I should think it would really suit her," 
 said Lady Dorothy, closing her eyes and speak- 
 ing softly. " She is in excellent health and has 
 lost no one and has so many little occupations 
 of a religious and philanthropic kind all in 
 Brighton." 
 
 And so it was settled and no sooner was it 
 settled than Lady Dorothy began to pick up 
 her strength a little and, through her constant 
 tears, to make shrewd useful suggestions to 
 Maud about what clothes would be necessary 
 to take with them. Also she sketched out a 
 general plan of the route they should take. 
 
 Maud had been abroad many times with 
 Ursula and Stella. Ursula's thrift had enabled 
 her to take her sisters abroad when a richer and 
 less judicious woman would have found it 
 financially impossible. The question, therefore, 
 was not where Maud would care to go but where 
 Lady Dorothy thought it was " least unbear- 
 able." That was how she put it and wished 
 Maud to put it, so they both put it like that. 
 
 The old lady had never been abroad in her 
 life except to school in Paris. Mr. Broughton 
 had disliked foreigners and foreign places, and 
 since his death Lady Dorothy had spent her life 
 in London varied by a month in Perthshire 
 during August and September. The whole of 
 Europe was before her, all new and unknown, 
 where she could wander lamenting the loss of 
 the dearest companion of her later life. And 
 so it was settled that they would go to the places
 
 176 TWO SINNEES 
 
 where it would be "least unbearable," and in 
 about a fortnight's time. 
 
 When that time at last came Lady Dorothy 
 with many tears and heartfelt sighs went into 
 the little back-garden at No. 2, Brown Street 
 with Maud and laid some flowers on Kiddie's 
 grave for the last time perhaps for weeks 
 or for months. The Jacksons would look after 
 the grave and not forget to put flowers upon it 
 every week. 
 
 Perhaps the sentiment of this parting would 
 have been too great a strain on Lady Dorothy's 
 nerves had not there been a certain haste 
 necessary in their visit to the garden. They 
 had to have lunch earlier than usual and then 
 drive to Charing Cross in ample time as during 
 August there was always a crowded boat train 
 and some delay in registering the luggage. Then 
 came what Maud dreaded, the meeting with 
 Ursula and the " Good-bye." The plan was 
 that Ursula, who had decided to get other 
 lodgings in Brighton for the present, should run 
 up to town to see them off. She did not propose 
 coming to Brown Street but meeting them at 
 Charing Cross. Whether this was because Ursula 
 felt the parting too much to wish to prolong it, 
 or because she foresaw some possible friction 
 from Aunt Dorothy's side, Maud could not guess. 
 " You are good, Ursula," whispered Maud, as 
 she kissed her sister. ' You are generous." 
 
 Quite oblivious of the significance of the part- 
 ing to Ursula, Lady Dorothy met her in the 
 spirit of one who has suffered, and who wishes
 
 TWO SINNERS 177 
 
 to be duly commiserated. Kiddie's funeral had 
 taken place since she last saw Ursula, all these 
 plans had been sketched out for the distraction 
 of her grief since she last saw her, and she kissed 
 her niece with a certain suffering solemnity. 
 
 As soon as they had secured a carriage it 
 seemed to Lady Dorothy that as they were 
 leaving Ursula behind something should be said 
 suitable to the occasion. 
 
 ' You know, my dear," she said, leaning 
 from her corner to the window and speaking 
 down at Ursula in a languid voice, " that I need 
 more than just Eugenie in my present condition. 
 I dare say you don't know how ill I was, but that 
 you shouldn't realise it is all to the good ; 
 Maud knows. One cannot go through an im- 
 mense strain and not suffer in bodily health. 
 Also there is the question of Maud's own health. 
 I think she needs a complete change, for say 
 what you will, she has never looked quite the 
 same since last February." 
 
 This was the first time that the subject had 
 been even hinted at in the presence of the two 
 sisters. Neither looked at the other. 
 
 ' You know," continued Lady Dorothy, 
 " that we have never let the young couple know 
 of the awful tragedy of my darling's death. I 
 thought it might spoil their honeymoon, so we 
 shall not say a word about it till they return 
 home. So please don't mention it, Ursula." 
 
 Lady Dorothy was already using the words 
 " we " and " us " very freely as if she and Maud, 
 as a matter of course, belonged to each other. 
 
 N
 
 178 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " So you are really going to stay on at 
 Brighton," she continued, out of the carriage 
 window. " Such a good plan, I think." 
 
 " Have you got good lodgings ? " broke in 
 Maud. 
 
 Ursula, who had all this time been standing, 
 her black bag in her hand, looking through her 
 eyeglasses at her aunt's face and listening to 
 her remarks, said, glancing at Maud : 
 
 " My new lodgings are quite nice ! " 
 
 " Really ? " demanded Maud. She was 
 standing up in the carriage. The tickets were 
 collected and the train was about to move. 
 " I don't remember the street." 
 
 " Not on the front," said Ursula, " but 
 quite nice." 
 
 Maud's doubting eyes searched hers and 
 Ursula repeated " Quite nice. Good-bye, Aunt 
 Dorothy. Good-bye, Maud ! " 
 
 Maud bent out of the window and clasped 
 her sister's neck. 
 
 " God bless you, darling," murmured Ursula, 
 and then the train moved, and Maud saw Ursula 
 standing on the platform looking after them 
 erect and self-possessed, even smiling, her grey 
 hair, her gold eyeglasses, conspicuous under her 
 black hat. 
 
 But she did not see the solitary figure droop- 
 ing as she left the platform, the smile gone. 
 Maud knew nothing of the nerves strung up 
 with the effort to keep down a lump that would 
 rise in the throat as she went on her lonely 
 way.
 
 FOR the first month of their travel in France 
 and Switzerland, Lady Dorothy mourned for 
 Kiddie at high pressure. She still felt weak 
 and talked a great deal about the future world 
 but when they descended into Italy and wandered 
 among the vines and the rich autumn treasures 
 of that ruined Parnassus of the world, her grief 
 lost its sting, her nerves recovered their old 
 vitality and she glided insensibly into a pleasant 
 melancholy mixed with sprightliness. She dwelt 
 tenderly upon the tragedy of loss and the pathos 
 of love and never-to-be-forgotten memories, and 
 at the same time, she enjoyed trying the different 
 white wines of the country and telling Maud 
 which, on the whole, she preferred. Maud 
 smiled and encouraged the frivolity. Lady 
 Dorothy had known nothing but London, relieved 
 in August and September by a visit to Perth- 
 shire, for many a long year, and it now occurred 
 to her that she had relapsed into an uneventful 
 routine far too early in her life. She spoke no 
 more of going back very soon and even began 
 to propose staying abroad for the whole winter. 
 
 Maud suggested that Ursula should join 
 them, but the very notion of having her " rival " 
 as she now mentally pictured her threw the 
 old lady into a fretful gloom. 
 
 Ursula^ she said, would be far, far happier
 
 180 TWO SINNERS 
 
 doing good works at Brighton and it was quite 
 the best plan for her ; it was a charming place 
 and suitable, as she, indeed, had herself admitted 
 in her letters to Maud so what on earth was 
 the use of dragging her out to Italy ? And so 
 the weeks drifted on. 
 
 In December they went to Rome, and there 
 Lady Dorothy started a habit of looking about 
 her as if she expected to see some one she knew. 
 She was always putting up her eyeglasses and 
 staring, not at objects of art, but at people. 
 
 " What is it, Aunt Dorothy ? " questioned 
 Maud. " Haven't you met enough friends 
 already here, many more than I imagined we 
 were likely to come across in December ? " 
 
 Lady Dorothy bridled and gave her high 
 bridged nose a tilt upward. 
 
 " All roads lead to Rome," she said signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 " All the old roads," said Maud, " but not 
 the new ; the new roads lead to Chicago." 
 
 Her remark irritated Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " I know nothing about Chicago," she said. 
 '' Well, if you insist on knowing whom I am look- 
 ing for, I am looking for Major Kames there ! " 
 
 Maud's face turned so white that her aunt 
 felt alarmed. 
 
 "I have no reason to suppose that he is 
 here," she said hurriedly. " I have never heard 
 anything of him since that happened I suppose 
 nobody .has only I can't forget him you see 
 I cared about him. But I won't say any more, 
 my dear, as you dislike the subject."-
 
 TWO SINNERS 181 
 
 Maud had by this time recovered her self- 
 possession. She walked on by her aunt's side ; 
 she frowned under the brim of her hat and 
 thought for the thousandth time What had 
 become of Lionel Kames ? Where was he ? 
 Had he forgotten her ? She did not deserve 
 that he should remember her ! She did not 
 want him to remember her ! 
 
 " Kiddie would have liked Rome," sighed 
 Lady Dorothy, still thinking of sad things. 
 
 It was fortunate for Maud that they stayed 
 so long in Rome and that Lady Dorothy was 
 willing to be left at home for an hour at a time, 
 for her aunt could not be induced to enter any 
 picture gallery or any church or museum more 
 than once " I have seen it," was her remark. 
 Going to look at the same thing again and again 
 was apt to make people priggish but, of course, 
 Maud could do as she liked, provided she did 
 not expect anybody else to follow her example. 
 
 Maud was indeed thankful to be left alone, 
 for Lady Dorothy felt compelled to pass an 
 opinion on everything she saw. Perhaps the 
 most unbearable remark she made during the 
 whole of their sojourn in that greatest city of 
 the world was when they stood for a moment 
 in the Museo Nazionale, before the relief repre- 
 senting the Birth of Aphrodite. Glancing 
 through her lorgnon at the divine girl gazing up 
 with a noble tender salutation to the face of 
 one of her attendant Hours, Lady Dorothy said : 
 " What a comical little figure," and passed on. 
 
 Maud could at least wander in peace in the
 
 182 TWO SINNERS 
 
 official but silent company of the sullen Eugenie, 
 and feast her eyes over and over again on the 
 ruined memories of the past. 
 
 And what memories they were were not 
 the very stones of Rome saturated with human 
 blood ? From the Bacchic orgies of the Aventine 
 through the several sacks of Rome to the last, 
 that awful riot of human devils under the Con- 
 stable de Bourbon, through the butcheries of the 
 Coliseum, the tortures of Saint Angelo, the 
 unlimited licence of nobles, of prelates and of 
 Popes ; and all through those ages of effort to 
 dominate and dazzle the world ran the secret 
 suffering of slaves and underlings and the 
 corruption of the democracy. 
 
 More than once Maud repeated to herself 
 those sinister words of Lionel Kames on the 
 night before they parted, "If we really knew 
 ourselves, we should die of laughing or go 
 mad." Was that true of Rome ? No, it was 
 not true, because behind all this unforgettable 
 gloom of Rome lies the thin pale streak of 
 spiritual light, running unbroken from the 
 obscure and ancient worship of the Bona Dea 
 through the supreme effort of Paganism to purge 
 itself of materialism and speak the language of 
 the Cross in the mysteries of Mithras, and 
 through the slow making of the Mass, that final 
 and symbolic story of the sacrifice of God 
 Incarnate, which lit the waiting world for ever 
 with a strange glory. 
 
 Rome, too, has had her great law-givers and 
 her great organisers, and these few just men
 
 TWO SINNEES 183 
 
 have gained her the gratitude of Europe. Rome 
 lies before us now the dying Mother of the 
 western world. She has for good and for ill 
 made us what we are. 
 
 All through that winter Ursula's letters 
 contained no complaint of loneliness, not even 
 a suggestion of it. At the end of May one 
 letter mentioned that she found the spring a 
 little trying but the letter was otherwise cheer- 
 ful, and she mentioned hearing a sermon on 
 Whit Sunday at St. Cuthbert's by Father Fitz- 
 herbert. She said that he was advertised to give 
 three lectures in Brighton next November. 
 Stella's letters came irregularly. During the 
 honeymoon they had been frequent but very 
 short, and they were elevated in tone. In one 
 letter, longer than the others, she had spoken 
 about realising the greatness and gloriousness 
 of our human nature, how the thought of the 
 bigness of it all overwhelmed her at times, how 
 she was convinced that we were all (especially 
 people who never went to church) reaching after 
 the Divine. 
 
 After their return to town Stella wrote a 
 long and enthusiastic letter about the little flat 
 and said that housekeeping could be done ever 
 so easily if it was only done with " brains." 
 
 In November she mentioned something about 
 the expense of housekeeping and the " servant " 
 difficulty. The following letter was full of the 
 " servant " difficulty, and she remarked that 
 Maud was lucky in " being out of all that." 
 
 In December Broughton, evidently directed
 
 184 TWO SINNERS 
 
 by Stella, wrote to say that Stella was dis- 
 appointed that they were not coming back to 
 town for Christmas. In February Stella asked 
 when Aunt Dorothy was coming home and that 
 she had been several times to No. 2, Brown Street 
 and found Mrs. Jackson was not in the best of 
 tempers. She had put flowers on Kiddie's 
 grave, as she found that those already on the 
 grave were withered. 
 
 In spite of all hints, Lady Dorothy decided 
 not to return home till May, and when May 
 came she told Maud that she dreaded going back 
 to that empty house, and that unless Ursula 
 made " objections," she meant to spend the 
 summer in the mountains overlooking Lugano. 
 
 More letters came from Stella, in one of which 
 she mentioned that a small flat was delightful 
 of course, but absolutely impossible for purposes 
 of entertaining and then the " servant " diffi- 
 culty ! Maud inquired after George's work. 
 Stella answered the question in her next letter. 
 George was getting on splendidly with his work, 
 she was sure, but experience had taught her 
 (and after all there is nothing that beats ex- 
 perience) it was healthier for a man to have an 
 entire change of thought when he came home 
 from work and therefore she purposely did not 
 let him talk about it when they were alone 
 together. 
 
 In May Stella wrote that they were going to 
 Brighton for a Saturday and Sunday and she 
 hoped that she would not find Ursula too much 
 annoyed at Aunt Dorothy's prolonged stay
 
 TWO SINNERS 185 
 
 abroad. Stella also once wrote a long letter 
 about the pity it was that she had not had the 
 advantages Maud now had of living in Italy 
 the place where you could get the voice properly 
 trained. She also said that, though she 
 thoroughly appreciated the glory of scientific 
 research and all the vast good that it did, she 
 thought that if George could invent something 
 well, like " Lux " in the chemical laboratory 
 it would be of infinite value to the public and 
 bring in heaps of money at the same time. She 
 had no doubt but that the inventor of " Lux " 
 was simply rolling 
 
 Her next letter was about a private concert 
 at which she had sung. Unfortunately she was 
 out of practice and had not done herself justice. 
 George, however, thought she had done admirably. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ursula stayed on in Brighton 
 and never asked the question, " When are you 
 coming home ? " She said that for the sake of 
 her health she had left her Brighton lodgings 
 and had gone to a farm on the Downs. So 
 Maud satisfied herself that, once on the Downs, 
 Ursula would get perfectly well. There was no 
 reason to suppose she wouldn't. 
 
 The summer passed away and Lady Dorothy 
 thought it scarcely worth while going back till 
 the end of September ; and in September, the 
 weather being lovely, she put off their return 
 till October because " there was no hurry " ; 
 and then October was too fine to miss and 
 November would be soon enough. They could 
 cross during the first week. Maud saw looming
 
 186 TWO SINNERS 
 
 before her the same old question : What was 
 to be done in the long future ? If only Lady 
 Dorothy could have tolerated Ursula and all 
 three lived together in No. 2, Brown Street ! 
 But it was clear to Maud that indifference to 
 Ursula had grown into absolute dislike. 
 
 At last the day was decided on when they 
 should return home, and Lady Dorothy got so 
 far as to write to Mrs. Jackson. 
 
 "What day shall I tell Ursula?" asked 
 Maud. " She has written to ask." 
 
 " I don't want to be bound down to to- 
 morrow," said Lady Dorothy irritably. " It 
 depends upon the w r eather." 
 
 That Ursula should have any " right " to 
 know the precise moment when they reached 
 London so as to pounce upon them and claim 
 Maud again exasperated the old lady. 
 
 " I would rather you told Ursula," she said, 
 in a businesslike tone, " that I shall ask her to 
 come up to us as soon as we have rested from 
 the journey. Surely that will do. Nothing is 
 more fatiguing than being met at the station by 
 people who are quite fresh when one is fagged 
 out oneself." 
 
 In order to appear strictly reasonable, she 
 directed Maud to forbid George and Stella meet- 
 ing them at Charing Cross, but permitted them 
 to go to No. 2, Brown Street to welcome the 
 travellers home. 
 
 " You must wire to them, of course," added 
 Lady Dorothy, " and you can if you like, wire to 
 Ursula she may expect it, and you can put in
 
 TWO SINNERS 187 
 
 your telegram that we shall be glad to see her as 
 soon as we have had time to breathe." 
 
 The lines round Lady Dorothy's mouth and 
 nostrils tightened with annoyance. 
 
 " Time to breathe ! " she murmured again. 
 In her mind's eye there was Ursula with her 
 grey hair and her gold eyeglasses and her bag, 
 not giving anybody time to breathe ! It was a 
 surprising thing that Major Kames could have 
 liked Ursula so much ! But he was so genial. 
 
 Oh, how empty No. 2, Brown Street would 
 have been if Maud had not been there to dispel 
 the shadows. Lady Dorothy crossed the Channel 
 with an air of enduring the inevitable and got 
 into the train at Dover without expressing any 
 joy at being again in her native land. 
 
 " The crossing was not bad though the 
 sea was choppy," she said. ' Well, are you glad 
 to be back ? " she added suddenly, turning to 
 Maud and staring at her. 
 
 Maud, taken aback, did not reply quite 
 coherently. 
 
 " Are you glad to be back, child ? " repeated 
 her Aunt Dorothy. " Back in England." 
 
 " No," said Maud. " Not altogether." 
 
 Lady Dorothy grunted and said nothing 
 more. 
 
 When they arrived at Charing Cross that 
 misty November afternoon, Maud found herself 
 standing up and scanning eagerly the platform 
 although she knew that neither Ursula nor 
 Stella would be there. 
 
 Whom did she expect to see? A foolish
 
 188 TWO SINNERS 
 
 wild thought had flashed into her mind. Suppose 
 that " He " had found out that they were 
 returning home and had determined to speak to 
 her, even if only to say " Good-bye," and to tell 
 her that he had forgiven her ! 
 
 Among the figures hurrying to and fro and 
 greeting friends was no familiar face. 
 
 Jackson was there, of course, looking more 
 than ever the pillar of immemorial respectability. 
 
 Maud's heart sank. Why ? She could not 
 tell. 
 
 " Maud," said Lady Dorothy, as soon as they 
 had got into the old brougham " I wish there 
 were no gaps in the world ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 STELLA looked even more beautiful than she had 
 done a year ago. She was now twenty-three, 
 the age which in Englishwomen brings the soft- 
 ness and bloom of youth to its zenith. A woman 
 may become handsomer, more attractive when 
 she is older, but after twenty-three she loses that 
 peculiar and entrancing glow of girlhood. George 
 was evidently proud of his wife's appearance, 
 but he let slip all unconsciously a remark that 
 to Maud was flooded with significance. The 
 remark was : 
 
 " Hasn't she made herself smart to greet 
 you ? " Stella found it difficult and also un- 
 necessary to be tidy except for occasions. The 
 presence of a lover is always an " occasion," 
 the presence of a husband is a " fact" of daily 
 life, a glorious fact, of course. The first meeting 
 with Maud and Aunt Dorothy since Stella's 
 wedding day was an " occasion." 
 
 Under the full glare of the electric light in 
 the drawing-room, Maud thought that George 
 looked thinner than he had been a year ago 
 and she thought she detected an anxious look 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " I thought you were never coming back," 
 said Stella, as she sprang upon the necks of her 
 relatives and then began to look round the
 
 190 TWO SINNERS 
 
 drawing-room. Was she already contemplating 
 a musical At Home at which she would perform ? 
 
 She could scarcely wait for the usual exchange 
 of questions and answers that are customary 
 between people who meet after a long absence 
 in which much of importance has happened. 
 
 " May I have Maud to-morrow ? " she begged 
 of Lady Dorothy. " I know that you will be 
 deep in talk with Mrs. Jackson for hours but 
 could Maud come after lunch then you come 
 and dine with us, Aunt Dorothy, now, do 
 promise do, do, do ! " 
 
 Stella's eagerness was so great that Maud 
 surmised that she had something of supreme 
 importance to communicate to her, and so she 
 submitted with a good grace to being taken 
 possession of on the following day. The next 
 morning, she and Aunt Dorothy went into the 
 little back garden and looked at Kiddie's grave 
 it was a ceremony that had to be gone 
 through and it was thought best to do it between 
 breakfast and lunch. It was sad to think that 
 cats, which had been forbidden the sodden 
 grass and the blackened ivy during Kiddie's 
 lifetime, could now walk over both ostenta- 
 tiously and even seat themselves upon the little 
 mound beneath which he lay oblivious in his 
 satin-lined coffin. Lady Dorothy was, after all, 
 so much taken up with finding herself among 
 her old possessions and so engrossed with Mrs. 
 Jackson, that Maud was able to start off to 
 Stella's flat without feeling that she was leaving a 
 tragedy behind her. By the first post that morning
 
 TWO SINNERS 191 
 
 a letter had come addressed to her in Ursula's 
 handwriting. The handwriting was shaky for 
 Ursula. Maud did not open it at once ; some- 
 how she dared not. It seemed like the seal 
 placed on her home-coming she would read it 
 later in the morning. Then the morning had 
 passed and Maud said she would read it after 
 lunch. Did it contain some plan for the future ? 
 That was what Maud dreaded ! What plan 
 could it suggest that would not be dreary ? 
 After lunch Maud thought that she would read 
 it on her way to Stella. Feeling like a coward, 
 she put the letter -into her muff and sat alone in 
 the old brougham with it still unread. For the 
 moment she had a right to be entirely engrossed 
 in Stella for Stella had some important secret 
 to tell her alone. Maud guessed what the 
 secret of secrets. 
 
 She rushed up the two flights of stairs to the 
 flat and rang the bell. A very dirty maid un- 
 locked the door and called out into the darkness 
 behind her " Here's Miss Monckton," and 
 switched on the light. Then she looked Maud 
 all over with eyes of approbation. 
 
 Maud walked in and looked about her. 
 From an open door emerged Stella in a crimson 
 dressing-gown very much stained down the 
 front. Her hair was, however, done for the 
 " occasion," and she was smiling and delighted 
 to see her sister. " Clear away the lunch," 
 she called out to the maid and she drew Maud 
 into her bedroom where the electric light was 
 still on and the room in an extraordinary disorder.
 
 192 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " I knew you would understand my not 
 being dressed as Aunt Dorothy is coming to 
 dinner I thought I'd dress once and for always 
 just before teatime " 
 
 Maud looked round her. The white painted 
 furniture was already chipped and bruised at 
 all the corners, and one of the white plaster 
 cupids that held up the mirror had been deprived 
 of his nose not from the effects of constant 
 dusting, for both charming figures had their 
 limbs boldly accentuated by the accumulation 
 of many months of dust. 
 
 The pink curtains on the window and pink 
 bed-hangings were half off their hooks there 
 was an indescribable collection of clothes piled 
 up in one of the corners of the room, as if it was 
 meant ultimately to serve as a support for the 
 ceiling. On the toilet-table were the strange 
 and unornamental bottles and boxes with con- 
 tents of various kinds in various states of de- 
 composition, which Stella always referred to as 
 " still being useful." 
 
 " Isn't it a sweet room ? " said Stella, " but 
 just a little untidy to-day. I can't get that 
 impossible girl to do anything properly. There 
 is not one servant in a thousand that's trained 
 nowadays." 
 
 Having shown her bedroom as it was in the 
 glory of actual use, Stella took Maud into the 
 drawing-room, a tiny room full of a grand 
 piano. She put on the electric stove and made 
 her sister sit on the couch opposite it. This 
 room contained no pictures, the wall-paper
 
 TWO SINNERS 193 
 
 provided sufficient scope for meditation in its 
 design of immense birds of some tropical species 
 with blue-green plumage. The square of blue 
 Axminster carpet had a stain on it exactly in 
 front of the stove, as if some one had poured 
 out a libation of coffee, spreading it out with 
 a liberal hand as widely and lengthily as possible. 
 Maud did not know whether to laugh or to cry. 
 What a home for George Broughton ! Good 
 Heavens, and with the addition of a baby what 
 would it be like ? 
 
 " The room is too small for entertaining," 
 said Stella. " It's of no use." 
 
 " If you only hadn't a grand piano ! " mur- 
 mured Maud, looking at that article of furniture. 
 Then she added, " But you have something to 
 tell me, Stella," and Maud touched her sister's 
 hand. " I hurried off after lunch as soon as I 
 could." 
 
 " I couldn't talk about it before Aunt 
 Dorothy," said Stella, " especially with George 
 there ! " 
 
 ' Yes," said Maud sympathetically, " of 
 course." 
 
 " Well, the fact is," said Stella, " that I am 
 in awful straits. I'll explain all about it after 
 but, to go straight to the point at once I want 
 you if you will and I know you will to see 
 if you couldn't get Aunt Dorothy to allow George 
 something every year without telling George." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Maud aghast, 
 
 "It's on George's account, not on mine," 
 continued Stella, " because I have begun to 
 
 o
 
 194 TWO SINNERS 
 
 find out that he isn't at all strong and the least 
 thing worries him. It's a great handicap for a 
 man to be like that ; to tell you the truth, Maud, 
 he doesn't, and can't, poor fellow, help me in 
 the least." 
 
 " Help you in what ? " asked Maud. 
 
 " Help me with the housekeeping," said 
 Stella. 
 
 ' Why on earth should he ? " 
 
 " I should say why shouldn't he ? " said 
 Stella. " Last spring I had overrun my allow- 
 ance by forty pounds. He saw how it wasn't my 
 fault but just the nature of things and couldn't 
 be helped, and yet he was upset about it. Then 
 we went down to Brighton to Ursula and I told 
 her. She gave me forty pounds. Now this 
 time the same thing's happened I can't make 
 ends meet. I haven't told George because I 
 want to spare him. Naturally, he is sensitive 
 about being able to give me so much less than 
 most women expect. Then I can't myself ask 
 anything more from Ursula, although privately, 
 Maud, I don't know what she can do with her 
 money as her lodgings must cost her next to 
 nothing." 
 
 " The lodgings where she is now ? " asked 
 Maud, her heart growing heavier and heavier. 
 
 " I haven't seen her since she went to that 
 farm on the Downs. I was speaking of her other 
 lodgings in Brighton a horrid street ; and then 
 she spends nothing on her clothes." 
 
 " I know that," said Maud. 
 
 " Well, what is to be done ? " asked Stella,
 
 TWO SINNERS 195 
 
 as if the whole matter now thoroughly explained 
 rested on Maud's shoulders. 
 
 " Shall I come and and put your affairs in 
 order and see if I couldn't start you again ? " 
 asked Maud, after a pause. 
 
 Stella eyed her strangely. 
 ' You assume that I am not housekeeping 
 properly." 
 
 " Economical housekeeping needs a certain 
 amount of moral courage, but it would be worth 
 while exerting that in order to save George from 
 an early grave." Maud spoke with exasperating 
 calmness. 
 
 " Thanks," said Stella, " I'm not going to 
 have poor George starved if that's what you 
 mean. I have given a standing order to the 
 butcher for chops. I know it is expensive, but 
 then fresh meat is so important." 
 
 " Poor George ! " murmured Maud, under 
 her breath. 
 
 ' What I really want, Maud, don't mind my 
 speaking plainly, is more money, not advice." 
 
 ' You ought to be able to manage on what 
 you have got," said Maud. " I could do it 
 and give George a new dinner every evening." 
 
 There came a short silence, and both girls 
 stared at the electric stove. 
 
 ' You must remember, my dear Maud," said 
 Stella at last, in an icy voice, " that you are 
 speaking to a girl who has shown herself willing 
 to face poverty for the man she loves. Except 
 for George's sake, I couldn't have gone through 
 with what I have endured this last eighteen
 
 196 TWO SINNERS 
 
 months. Perhaps you don't understand what 
 love can do I don't think you can or you 
 wouldn't have behaved as you did to Major 
 Kames. You would have either accepted him 
 or refused him straight away." 
 
 Stella leant back into her corner of the couch, 
 feeling morally justified in saying what she was 
 saying. Maud had behaved disgracefully to 
 Major Kames and yet no one had been allowed 
 to blame her. Not a word had ever been spoken 
 on the subject by Ursula, and even Aunt Dorothy 
 had been extraordinarily silent and forgiving. 
 Maud was always the favourite with both women 
 and had, therefore, got an exaggerated opinion of 
 herself. 
 
 Like George IV. with his personal recollec- 
 tions of the battle of Waterloo, Stella had 
 acquired the belief that she had " practically " 
 refused Major Kames " straight away." 
 
 George had for so long told her that she was 
 the most beautiful and the most gifted woman 
 in the world that it naturally followed that 
 Major Kames must have preferred her to Maud, 
 and had " sort of proposed " only that she 
 would not do him the injustice to let him " quite 
 propose." Maud had angled for him and then 
 jilted him. She had behaved disgracefully. 
 
 " Nothing that you can say," said Maud, 
 in a suppressed voice, " would make me realise 
 better than I do now, how meanly I behaved to 
 Lionel Kames." 
 
 " I'm glad you think so," said Stella. " And 
 I really think that the worry of it affected Ursula's
 
 TWO SINNERS 197 
 
 health. Last May she was like a skeleton. She 
 pretended that she wasn't ill and was quite 
 vexed at my speaking of it. I don't think she 
 is really any better now, because when I wrote 
 to ask she evaded an answer." Stella's voice 
 was full of moral conviction. 
 
 " Don't think me disagreeable, Maud," she 
 said, " I merely want you to see that while you 
 are discussing my affairs, you must remember 
 that I could discuss yours if I wanted to, only 
 I don't want to." 
 
 Maud did not reply she could feel Ursula's 
 letter in her muff Ursula like a skeleton ! 
 Was that true, or was it merely said to emphasise 
 .Stella's sermon ? 
 
 " Is Ursula seriously unwell ? " she demanded. 
 " If so, I ought to go to her at once. Why 
 didn't you tell me last night, Stella ? " 
 
 Perhaps that letter contained the truth. 
 Why had she not opened it ? She could not 
 do so now in Stella's presence she must 
 wait. 
 
 " I didn't say she was seriously unwell," 
 said Stella. " I said she looked a little ill when 
 we were with her and I don't know that she is 
 right yet ! Now do you think you could discuss 
 the question of George's income with Aunt 
 Dorothy ? After all, she has no relation nearer 
 than George and he has always been so nice to 
 her." 
 
 Maud pondered. So Ursula was not really 
 very ill only she had been unwell enough to 
 want to leave Brighton and live in the healthy
 
 198 TWO SINNERS 
 
 air of the Downs. That she had known before. 
 Perhaps she was well by now. 
 
 " Suppose we go through your bills and 
 accounts, Stella," said Maud. ' When I can 
 see exactly how you stand, it might be possible 
 to talk to Aunt Dorothy." 
 
 Stella's face dimpled and her earrings swayed. 
 
 " I'll try and collect some of them," she 
 said, " if you will wait here. I have great faith 
 in your practical wisdom, Maud. Your mind is 
 the matter-of-fact kind that dwells naturally 
 on small details. Now mine doesn't. Detail 
 wearies me I can't do with it I want something 
 big to handle." And she got slowly up from the 
 couch and went out of the room. 
 
 Maud could hear her moving about the flat, 
 calling to the maid at times. It sounded as if 
 the bills had to be gathered up from every corner 
 of the house. 
 
 So Ursula was as thin as a skeleton in May. 
 Was that only said by Stella in order to make her 
 accusation sharper ? 
 
 Ursula had been unwell. But surely she 
 was well again ! 
 
 Maud had still got her muff on her knees. 
 She pulled Ursula's letter from it. The writing 
 was shaky. She had noticed that, but Ursula 
 might have written in a hurry. She tore open 
 the envelope and spread out the page over her 
 muff. It was clearly her duty to read the letter 
 without delay in case there was something in it 
 that required an immediate answer. She began 
 reading.
 
 TWO SINNERS 199 
 
 " MY DARLING MAUD, 
 
 " All this time I have kept my illness 
 from you. I knew you needed rest and happi- 
 ness after your trouble Besides you could not 
 have done anything for me, but have the pain 
 of seeing me gradually get weaker. I thank God 
 that you have been spared that and in the most 
 natural way in the world. 
 
 " I have just got your wire. Dear, come to 
 me now, because I think my time is very short. 
 " Your loving sister, 
 
 " URSULA/' 
 
 Maud raised the letter nearer to her eyes 
 it shook in her hands. Yet the words were 
 there, there was no way of reading them any 
 differently. 
 
 She uttered a short cry and then sat still 
 and tried to read the letter yet once again. 
 Before she had mastered half of it, she rose from 
 the couch, her limbs trembling, and she went out 
 of the room unsteadily. 
 
 " Stella ! " she called. " Stella ! " 
 
 " What has happened ? " replied Stella, ap- 
 pearing slowly with her hands full of crumpled 
 papers. 
 
 ' Have you any money in the house, Stella ? " 
 
 " No," said Stella promptly. 
 
 Maud tore out her purse. She had half a 
 sovereign in it and some silver. Her speech 
 came with difficulty, she spoke as if she could 
 not breathe. 
 
 " Ursula is very ill. I must go at once down
 
 200 TWO SINNERS 
 
 to her. I have just enough money. Go at once 
 to Aunt Dorothy and explain ' 
 
 " What do you mean ? How have you 
 heard ? " began Stella. 
 
 " I can't stop," cried Maud, " every minute 
 is precious. Do what I tell you, Stella," and the 
 girl ran towards the hall door. 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Stella. 
 
 " Stop ! when Ursula is dying ! " cried Maud, 
 and she fumbled at the door. She pulled it 
 violently open and rushed down the stairs. 
 
 Where was there a taxi to be got ? She ran 
 down the street. Thank God ! there was a 
 stand. 
 
 " To Victoria Station for Brighton," she said. 
 It would take her ten minutes to get to the 
 station. 
 
 At the station she called to the porter, who 
 came to the door. 
 
 " When is the next train to Brighton ? " 
 
 " The express has just gone," he said. 
 
 " When is the next ? " 
 
 " Not till five o'clock." 
 
 A whole hour to wait !
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE day before, when they had crossed the 
 Channel, there had been a moderate wind blowing 
 from the south-west and a slightly choppy sea, 
 but during the night the wind must have in- 
 creased. That morning, in London, Maud had 
 scarcely noticed the weather. Her thoughts 
 had been too busy. Only when she reached 
 Stella's flat and she had got out of the carriage 
 and shut the door behind her, she had felt a 
 cold gust catch at her furs and blow them over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 But all her thoughts in the train from Victoria 
 to Brighton mingled in a sinister fashion with 
 the sound of the wind bursting angrily against 
 the carriage-windows. Ursula lying ill at Down 
 Farm would be listening too, to the sound of the 
 wind, for there must be a gale blowing in the 
 Channel. 
 
 The Brighton station was gusty and bitterly 
 cold when she arrived on that November evening. 
 
 Maud twisted her furs closely round her and 
 made for the nearest taxi. 
 
 She only vaguely knew where the farm was 
 where Ursula was staying. She knew that she 
 must first take the road to Rottingdean and then 
 the road to Newhaven. 
 
 " There's a road to the farm," she said sharply,
 
 202 TWO SINNERS 
 
 for the taxi man's face expressed a gloomy 
 scepticism when she gave him the address. 
 " Doctors are going to the farm, for there is 
 illness there, so we must be able to get there. 
 At Rottingdean ask your way," she said with 
 a fierce look at the man and got into the taxi and 
 banged the door. 
 
 The man grunted and began to get his 
 machinery into action. 
 
 Strange thoughts came swiftly into Maud's 
 brain as they sped through the narrow crowded 
 streets towards Kemp Town. In this spot so 
 much had happened towards the shaping of her 
 destinies. To Maud, events seemed to ' ' happen. ' ' 
 She had, indeed, never deliberately tried to shape 
 them. Her youth had been a record of " drift." 
 She realised just now that if she had believed 
 in the next world, she would have done nothing 
 to prepare for it ; and f eeling certain only of 
 this life, she had done her best to waste it ! In 
 thinking of the past, it came forcibly to her that 
 she had been very diligent about small matters, 
 but that she had never set out to " justify her 
 existence." Justify it to whom ? Was it not 
 easier to live in the days when human races 
 worshipped the sun ? They could at least see 
 their god, and though he daily passed out of 
 their sight and left them at the mercy of the 
 powers of darkness till his return, still return he 
 did each morning. Each morning he rose trium- 
 phant, dispersing the gloom and terrors of the 
 night, and his worshipper lying prostrate before 
 the rising god could feel that immeasurable
 
 TWO SINNERS 203 
 
 mystic hand seeking him across the morning 
 mists and striking him on the brow and hair 
 like a sublime lover. 
 
 The narrow gusty streets were soon passed 
 and the taxi turned up a short wide street poorly 
 lit by lamp-posts, and then it sped on again 
 between another narrow unfrequented row of 
 dingy houses, a mews and a squalid shop or two, 
 and then they struck upon the open road where 
 no lights were to be seen and where the wind 
 swept down from the sea upon the car and beat 
 against it. 
 
 What Maud had taken for the roaring of the 
 sea was really the roaring of the wind. What a 
 night for Ursula lying alone in the solitary 
 Down Farm ! 
 
 On they went, a glimmer here and there of 
 lights from some house and the blank line of the 
 banks on each side of her was all that Maud 
 could see. She could hear that they were 
 ascending a steep incline, for the car raked wearily 
 up it. Presently, they came upon a group of 
 lights and Maud knew they were entering 
 Rottingdean. 
 
 The car stopped dead, and she could both 
 see and hear that the driver was shouting a 
 question to a man who came out of the little 
 low-roofed inn and shouted back at him. The 
 driver must have got the information he wanted 
 for he started again, turned inland abruptly and 
 then out again on to a coast road, and they were 
 again battling with the elements, and on each 
 side was pitch darkness.
 
 204 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Peer as closely as she would, Maud could see 
 nothing but the roadway, lit up by the car lamps, 
 and newly turned stony soil and beyond that 
 nothing ! 
 
 Why had Ursula isolated herself from other 
 habitations when she was so seriously ill ? If 
 it was true that she was dying, why did she stay 
 out on these lonely downs ? Oh, Ursula, Ursula ! 
 
 At last the taxi came to a dead stop and 
 Maud let down the window. The man came 
 round and spoke to her, his words seemed blown 
 about and very sinister. 
 
 " Here's the cart track to Down Farm, Miss," 
 he said. " It must be the right one, for they 
 said it was a few yards from those coastguard 
 cottages what you can see on a-head. But I 
 can't take my car any further, this 'ere road 
 would knock it all to pieces." 
 
 Maud looked out. Where they stood a 
 narrow deeply rutted track ran at right angles 
 northward. 
 
 " The house is about a stone's throw from 
 here, Miss, so they said." 
 
 " Can't you take the car on the turf ? " 
 asked Maud, opening the door, but not stepping 
 out. 
 
 " The turf only goes on a few feet and then 
 there's stubble," said the man. " I can't take 
 the car on that. You'll have to get out here, 
 Miss, or else go back." 
 
 Maud got out slowly. Her furs were blown 
 furiously round her her skirts clung to her 
 ankles. No house was visible she stared along
 
 TWO SINNERS 205 
 
 the narrow track for a few yards and then saw 
 stretching beyond that empty darkness. She 
 felt thankful that she was in England and not 
 abroad in such a situation. She must gather 
 all her courage together and brave it out. She 
 looked in her purse and gave the man his fare. 
 
 " Shall I wait ? " he asked, " and see if you 
 come back," for he was half ashamed of letting 
 her go alone into the black night. 
 
 Maud seized the offer at once. ' Wait for 
 me a quarter of an hour just in case I am wrong 
 and there is no house," she said. " Here is 
 three shillings it's all I have with me. Promise 
 faithfully you'll wait." 
 
 " Oh, I'll wait," said the man. " I'll take 
 out a light to guide you a little way. I'd come 
 with you, but I daren't leave my car." 
 
 " Good night," said Maud. 
 
 The man said good night and took off one of 
 his lights, and Maud saw Mm, as she once turned, 
 an unsteady black figure holding the lamp, the 
 great flickering fan of brilliance in front of him 
 getting fainter and fainter as it reached her. 
 It was something, at least, to know that he was 
 there behind on the main road. And then 
 there was Ursula -poor darling Ursula waiting 
 for her at the end of the darkness. Urged by 
 this thought, she stepped out boldly almost 
 blown along by the wind until she reached the 
 utmost fringe of the light beyond which lay 
 the darkness. Then she stumbled along, almost 
 running. She could have cried wi th fear, only that 
 Ursula dear Ursula, was surely there needing
 
 206 TWO SINNERS 
 
 her expecting her wondering why she did not 
 come ! In a few seconds she saw in front of her a 
 small dark obj ect. It was the farm ! What a wel- 
 come sight ! It made her run all the faster, full 
 of hope now she seemed almost to be lifted on 
 the wings of the wind. It was the farm there 
 was a light in one of the windows ! There would 
 be Ursula ! Here was a little gate ! She pushed 
 her way through and it banged violently with 
 the wind. She could see that the house was low 
 and square, and that the door was in the middle, 
 and that there was a single step up to it. She 
 searched for a knocker or a bell with her hand, 
 she felt a knocker and rapped it heavily on the 
 door. She knocked again and again. It seemed 
 an age while she waited in the cold, and with the 
 wind tearing at her hat and whipping at her 
 skirts, making her ankles sting with cold. Would 
 Ursula come out of her room and greet her, was 
 she well enough to do that or would she be 
 lying in bed in the candle-light ? Maud's heart 
 beat. The door opened, a light flickered inside. 
 
 " Is this Down Farm ? " asked Maud. 
 
 A nurse, a simple-looking quiet girl, held the 
 door open. ' Yes, yes." 
 
 No further words were necessary. She did 
 not see the curious expression on the nurse's 
 face as she caught at the door to prevent it from 
 banging and held it open for Maud to pass within. 
 
 Maud entered the narrow hall and stood 
 eagerly waiting till the door was shut and bolted. 
 " How is Miss Monckton ? " she asked. 
 
 The nurse turned away without speaking and
 
 TWO SINNERS 207 
 
 went to the foot of the stairs. Maud followed. 
 At the foot of the stairs, she turned again and 
 said, " I am afraid the letter never reached you 
 by the first post this morning, Miss Monckton." 
 
 The pulses in Maud's head began to beat 
 violently. 
 
 " Yes," she said, and her lips were so dry 
 that even that monosyllable was difficult to 
 pronounce. 
 
 The nurse looked astonished. 
 
 11 I'm afraid, Miss Monckton, it'll be a great 
 shock to you. You won't have realised how 
 very ill Miss Monckton was. She passed away 
 this morning." 
 
 Maud put out her hand and touched the 
 wall, for she felt dazed and uncertain where she 
 was. 
 
 " She was longing so much to see you, but 
 we never thought the end was so near," said 
 the nurse. :e The doctor himself thought that 
 she might live another week or ten days." 
 
 " She expected me this morning ? " gasped 
 Maud. 
 
 ' Yes, Miss, and we couldn't think what had 
 happened whether you had missed your train. 
 We sent a wire this afternoon to you not 
 knowing what to do. But, of course, it missed 
 you ! It was while she was still speaking of you 
 that the end suddenly came." 
 
 Maud leaned against the wall and covered 
 her face with her hands. 
 
 " Don't grieve too much, Miss," said the 
 nurse, taking her arm. " Come and see her,
 
 208 TWO SINNERS 
 
 she is so peaceful ; it will help you to bear it 
 when you see how happy she is." 
 
 Together they went stiffly and slowly up the 
 stairs. At the top were two shabby narrow 
 doors, one looking each way. The nurse put 
 out her hand, turned a key and led Maud into a 
 low-ceilinged cottage-bedroom. The blinds were 
 drawn and a candle burned on the little dressing- 
 table. On an iron bedstead in the farthest 
 corner, by the fireplace, in which only scattered 
 ashes remained, lay a motionless form under the 
 quilt. In the shadowy candle-light, Maud saw 
 her face, very thin and white and small, but 
 relaxed into the placitude of death. Is there 
 no way of reaching out to speak to the souls 
 whom we have neglected, whom we have allowed 
 to suffer alone ? Is there no way of asking 
 pardon, no way of telling them of our remorse ? 
 Is there no forgiveness of sins ?
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MAUD found herself being led out of the room 
 again into the bare chilly passage. She was 
 dry-eyed, but shivering from head to foot. The 
 nurse closed the door of the bedroom and locked 
 it again. Across the tiny landing a door stood 
 a little way open. That was Maud's bedroom. 
 The nurse took her in and helped her to take off 
 her things. This was done in silence, and then 
 they went downstairs to the sitting-room. ' You 
 must eat some supper," said the nurse, and she 
 looked anxiously into Maud's face. 
 
 There was a fire burning and a white china 
 lamp on the table in the middle of the room. By 
 the side of the fire was a stiff old-fashioned arm- 
 chair with a high back, and close beside it against 
 the wall a little narrow table covered with books. 
 Under the table, on the floor, was a workbasket 
 so familiar to Maud that it made her heart 
 stand still. Was Ursula really dead ? Could 
 it be possible ? What was " death " ? What 
 did it mean ? On the other side of the fire was a 
 long lean sofa covered with brown oilcloth, and 
 on the back was a striped woollen antimacassar. 
 Maud sat down on the sofa. Later she would 
 try to think coherently, for there would be 
 business to do and the last services for Ursula. 
 She must not give way. She shaded her eyes 
 
 p
 
 210 TWO SINNERS 
 
 with her hand and sat perfectly still. She could 
 hear sapper being laid for her and she listened 
 mechanically to the storm without. All these 
 noises belonged to the world in which she lived, 
 the world of her sight and touch, the world 
 which one day would for her too cease to 
 exist. Was that true, or was there any hope 
 of a future life where wrongs could be made 
 right and the crooked paths made straight, 
 hopes fulfilled and the longings of the human 
 heart for righteousness and peace be satisfied 
 at last ? 
 
 Suddenly she noticed that the nurse was 
 speaking in her ear and urging her to try and 
 eat some supper, using the argument that " Miss 
 Monckton would be distressed if she knew that 
 her sister was neglecting herself in her sorrow ; 
 that Miss Monckton was the best and kindest 
 patient she had ever had." 
 
 Maud rose at once and sat down to the table. 
 Food was painful to swallow, but it had to be 
 done and could be done. 
 
 Later on, Maud wrote letters and telegrams 
 that were to be sent off the first thing in the 
 morning, and as she wrote, she could hear half- 
 consciously only, that the wind was getting 
 louder and more insistent. The long night had 
 to be got through somehow. Maud dreaded 
 going up to her room, but that also had to be 
 done. She had the shock of seeing the nurse 
 bring into her bedroom garments that had 
 belonged to the dead a dressing-gown, night 
 things and bedroom-slippers for Maud had
 
 TWO SINNERS 211 
 
 nothing of her own with her. Toilet things too 
 were brought to her from that locked room, 
 and finally, two or three books of devotion from 
 beside that silent bed, and a black manuscript- 
 book fastened by an elastic band. Each time 
 the nurse came in or went out a puff of smoke 
 was blown down the chimney into the room by 
 the wind. Then the nurse poked the fire and 
 heaped on more coals. 
 
 She asked if Maud would like the lamp from 
 the sitting-room, and Maud, not knowing or 
 caring what happened, said " Yes," and the lamp 
 was brought to her and placed on the toilet 
 table near the window. 
 
 " I forgot to tell you, Miss," said the nurse, 
 as she moved to the door, " that a message has 
 been sent to Father Fitzherbert." 
 
 Maud stared at her with widened eyes. " Mr. 
 Fitzherbert was to come to-morrow to give poor 
 Miss Monckton the sacrament. She was so 
 much looking forward to your being with her 
 for that. I sent a message to Mr. Fitzherbert 
 that she had passed away unexpectedly and 
 suddenly, and not knowing his address at 
 Brighton I sent it along with a letter to Major 
 Kames at the Princes Hotel." 
 
 Here the nurse paused, but Maud said nothing. 
 ' We can't think why Major Kames never 
 came this morning. Miss Monckton expected 
 him just as she expected you, Miss. Just a 
 few minutes before she died, she felt it coming 
 I know she did, I was standing by the bed doing 
 her hair and we were talking of you, Miss. She
 
 212 TWO SINNERS 
 
 called for you and for him as if you were both 
 just outside the door, and then fell back on the 
 pillow unconscious until the end came. But 
 he knows now that she is gone." 
 
 Maud still stood by the fire stiffly and said 
 nothing, 
 
 " You look so white, Miss," said the nurse. 
 " Had I better fetch you a little brandy ? You 
 see you've been through such a lot." 
 
 " No ! " said Maud. " Thank you, I need 
 nothing nothing ! Good night." 
 
 The nurse left the room closing the door 
 behind her sharply, for the latches of the house 
 were old and shaky and the wind was pulling 
 at windows and doors as if to wrench them from 
 their fastenings. 
 
 When the nurse's step had ceased to sound 
 upon the creaking stairs, Maud turned round to 
 the bed and flinging herself down on her knees, 
 gave way to a paroxysm of grief which had no 
 relief in tears. Only she she who should have 
 done most had neglected the dead others 
 had done their part ! How long she lay moaning 
 as if in acute physical pain she did not know, 
 but all the time the wind battled with the house, 
 and to Maud, the whole world seemed in conflict. 
 There was pain in every throb of nature and 
 everywhere voices speaking of death. Would 
 that death would come to her of what use was 
 her life ? It was nothing but a little foolish talk 
 about futile things and would end in silence. 
 
 She could hear an old clock below striking 
 with crazy but vibrating notes twelve ! She
 
 TWO SINNERS 213 
 
 rose from the bed. The fire was getting low 
 she put on more coals. She took off her shoes 
 and put on the black bedroom-slippers that 
 had been Ursula's. Then she slowly took off 
 her dress and put on the dressing-gown. She 
 dared not wear Ursula's night-dress, it would 
 be a horrible profanation. She drew a large, 
 old, battered arm-chair to the fire and sat down 
 before it shivering with the cold and listened to 
 the storm. 
 
 The wind had some devilish cruelty in it. 
 After a terrific roar it dashed off wailing to the 
 distant weald out of hearing, and then the 
 night seemed to drop into silence but such a 
 silence it breathed of coming danger. The 
 wind had secretly gone back to the sea and had 
 hidden itself it was coming again from afar off. 
 Maud listened for it, her head buried in her 
 hands, waiting and dreading. It was coming 
 again yes, it was coming. Maud strung up 
 her nerves to bear it when it did come. It was 
 coming. With a sudden crash it came, and 
 the very spirit of the storm hung roaring at the 
 window. It strove madly to get in, raving at the 
 keyhole, hooting down the chimney in a hoarse 
 ominous voice, and then, its passion dying out, 
 it fled back again to the weald, muttering and 
 moaning as it fled smothering its cries and 
 checking its breath, panting and groaning into a 
 deadly silence till it should come again from 
 the sea. 
 
 Maud put out her hand and grasped at the 
 books that had belonged to Ursula and that lay
 
 214 TWO SINNERS 
 
 at the foot of the white lamp. She opened first 
 one and then the other, turning over the pages. 
 She came upon a passage underlined : 
 
 " Incline Thine ear unto me, oh Lord, for I 
 am poor and in misery." 
 
 Maud turned over the other leaves with a 
 feverish care, as a penitent might search the 
 pages of a long confession of his sins unwilling 
 to miss one anxious to drink the cup of his 
 humility to the dregs. 
 
 She could find no other passage underlined. 
 But that solitary one contained the cry of a 
 life-time ! Maud took the black manuscript- 
 book in her hands and began to unfasten the 
 elastic band. The pages were full of Ursula's 
 handwriting. Maud's heart beat almost to suffo- 
 cation ! Here would be in full, written down, 
 sentence by sentence, the details of Ursula's 
 sufferings ! Had the diary been begun when she 
 first felt the weakness of her illness or had she 
 begun it because as the month's dragged on she 
 felt more and more solitary ? To read it was 
 part of Maud's penance. To close these pages 
 would be to refuse to bear part of her punish- 
 ment. 
 
 Most of the entries merely recorded rain or 
 sunshine, books begun or finished, a visit from 
 a friend or letters received from Maud. But 
 there were some longer entries here and there, 
 and it was these that Maud searched with 
 passionate attention.
 
 TWO SINNERS 215 
 
 " April 10. I thought that I should not 
 feel lonely, but I do now that the days have 
 drawn out. In the winter one can draw the 
 curtains and sit by the fire absorbed in books, 
 but now in the small shabby room looking out 
 on a street, with the cold grey light of a spring 
 evening lengthening hour after hour I feel 
 lonely. I can hear my landlady at the street 
 door gossiping with her husband and neighbours. 
 At last the light dwindles and the lamps are lit 
 in the street and I can light my gas and draw 
 down the blinds, thankful that darkness has 
 come. 
 
 ' The few friends I have in Brighton take for 
 granted that I live here because I want to be 
 in the neighbourhood from which I draw little 
 girls who come to my class on Saturday after- 
 noons. They would not come to me if I lived 
 on the Parade. They are not afraid to come 
 here, they live close by. No letter to-day from 
 Maud and I had expected one." 
 
 " April 28. I ought not to be depressed, 
 because since she left me I have saved out of 
 my income nearly one hundred and fifty pounds. 
 This saving gives me something to live for while 
 she is away. I have the passion of a miser in 
 me for her sake. She cannot as I can endure 
 sordid surroundings that is partly her youth 
 partly her love of all that is beautiful and orderly. 
 But I ask myself sometimes whether there is 
 not some selfishness behind all this saving for 
 Maud, because all the time I picture her spending
 
 216 TWO SINNERS 
 
 it with me, while what she needs is a life, not 
 with me, but with husband and children, a full 
 life such as every woman should have. God 
 grant it to her." 
 
 " May 15. My class of little girls on Saturday 
 afternoon is growing bigger. I think I under- 
 stand children. I know I can speak to them as 
 I can't to grown persons. But beyond teaching 
 them how to sew and how to mend their clothes, 
 I have done little. Although they are all at the 
 Council school their ignorance is amazing, and 
 they care to hear of nothing except stories of 
 other children. So I have to work my instruction 
 in in that way. We begin with tea, and that 
 is a never exhausted source of pleasure to them. 
 It gives an air of social dissipation to the work, 
 without which, I doubt if I could induce them 
 to leave the streets." 
 
 " May 21. I am afraid that Stella and 
 George were shocked at these rooms. The only 
 comfort is that they got some good golf on 
 Saturday and a long walk on Sunday in the 
 lovely sunshine. Then they went back to town. 
 After all they only had one evening in these 
 cramped lodgings, all the rest of the time they 
 were out of doors. George looked less tired on 
 Sunday evening I thought. 
 
 " That forty pounds I gave to Stella out of 
 my savings for Maud, I gave grudgingly, I am 
 afraid. I blame myself, now that it is too late, 
 for having done so little to strengthen Stella's
 
 TWO SINNERS 217 
 
 character. It is so hard to struggle with a mind 
 that naturally sees little beyond its immediate 
 wants. Still that was the work that was given 
 me to do and I failed ! 
 
 " Did I, after all, do anything to help Maud ? 
 I begin to believe that I have failed all through. 
 Maud was so anxious to learn and so lovable 
 that I was deceived into thinking that I was doing 
 my task well. 
 
 " I shall never forget one hot August after- 
 noon on the east coast when Maud was about 
 six years old and playing with other little ones. 
 I had taken tea down to the beach, it was over 
 and the other children sprang up eager to romp 
 again. I reminded Maud of ' saying thanks.' 
 Instead of being impatient with me she smiled 
 in the sweetest way and joining her hands bent 
 over them for a moment with a rapt expression 
 of grateful prayer. Then she sprang up and 
 joined her companions. I could have caught 
 her to my heart with admiration and joy. But so 
 soon her father's influence drove away all that 
 beautiful trust in a Divine Spirit and I could 
 do nothing. I have so little moral courage. 
 I cannot lead in the presence of opposition. 
 I feel crushed and helpless. Sometimes I am 
 absolutely tongue-tied and cannot express the 
 simplest ideas with any effectiveness. ... I 
 have a sort of mental stammer. In the presence 
 of children I lose this. I did not suffer from it 
 with Lionel, I felt a different woman. His 
 generous sympathy, his unruffled good nature 
 made me feel at ease. It seems to me now
 
 218 TWO SINNEKS 
 
 incredible that there could have been any time 
 when I did not appreciate him, when I saw only 
 little defects in breeding and thought he was 
 worldly. Afterwards, everything he did and 
 said seemed to me to have its worth, as character- 
 istic of him and of nobody else. Being a coward 
 by nature, the ' protection ' of his presence had 
 in that short time become a necessity to me. 
 Where is he now ? He is constantly in my 
 thoughts, but I cannot picture him anywhere. 
 Is he at Orpenden ? " 
 
 " June 2. The hot weather exhausts me. I 
 used not to feel heat, but I think this weakness that 
 has been creeping over me lately accounts for it. 
 
 " Yesterday I gave my little girls a treat. 
 We drove to the Dyke in the morning and spent 
 the whole day in the open air. I had taken food 
 with me including buns and oranges. I sat 
 and looked at the great weald stretching before 
 us while the children played about. I think 
 they were very happy and I ought to have been 
 but for the haunting knowledge that Maud dreads 
 coming back to me. She has never told me, 
 but I know ! What can I do ? If only she 
 could have loved Lionel ! Not to love him 
 would be the harder task to me ! The thought 
 of Maud, and Maud dreading a future alone with 
 me, made the sunny weald look full of trouble. 
 I could not shake off the trouble even when we 
 were driving home and I was telling the children 
 a story to keep them quiet. The air was getting 
 a little chilly when we turned into the London
 
 TWO SINNERS 219 
 
 Road. As we passed the old square grey house 
 that is said to be haunted, the windows were 
 lit up by the setting sun. The children stared 
 with all their might as we drove by, looking 
 back at the house, glad and yet awed to think 
 it had an evil reputation." 
 
 " June 13. At last I had the courage to go 
 to a doctor. I wish I had gone before, but I 
 grudged the money. It is indigestion that is 
 the matter with me. I weigh now with all my 
 clothes on under eight stone. I have some sort 
 of digestive medicine to take and am to go and 
 see the doctor again in a fortnight. I believe 
 that I should get well at once if I could stay on 
 the Downs for a short time, but it would mean 
 giving up my classes and all the other work 
 that I have gathered round me. A kind letter 
 from Maud makes me already feel better, and 
 I have as yet only taken one dose of the medicine." 
 
 " June 30. The doctor advises me to go to 
 Down Farm for the summer. I long, myself, 
 for the Downs, but to give up my class as well 
 as my other duties now when I am free to do 
 what I like, seems so selfish, because when Maud 
 comes back we may not even live at Brighton. 
 And yet Maud must be my first consideration. 
 I must get well for her return. It will be so 
 dismal for her to come back and find me thin 
 and weak and useless. I shall carry out the 
 doctor's advice and I must break the news to 
 my class on Saturday. I dread telling them
 
 220 TWO SINNERS 
 
 it seems like breaking faith with them, they have 
 stuck to me so loyally and I believe happily." 
 
 " July 25. There could be no kinder people 
 than these farm people. An old man and his 
 wife belonging to the old yeoman class some 
 of our best English blood their family have 
 farmed here for three hundred years. They 
 have all the fine feeling of gentry with the 
 simplicity of peasants. The son is slow and 
 methodical and full of humour, and the niece 
 who waits on me is a good-hearted girl with a 
 magnificent contralto voice, but alas no ear ! 
 The Vicar has come to see me, a kind sensible 
 man, and his wife came with him. I like her too, 
 very fresh and unworldly but I think they 
 suffer from want of any society of their own 
 class. I gathered so from her. 
 
 " Is it because I am idle here and have too 
 much time to think of myself that I feel no better 
 in health ? The sight of food nauseates me ! 
 
 " My happiest time is in the mornings when 
 I take my deck-chair outside just to the corner 
 of the house. There I can sit on a dry bit of 
 farm road close to the great wheat-field that 
 stretches to the south and beyond which lies 
 a rim of green and then the opal sea as far as the 
 eye can reach. 
 
 :< This morning I heard a slight movement 
 near me and out of the short yellow forest of 
 wheat a speckled hen stepped on to the grassy 
 edge. She was surprised at finding herself so 
 near me. She stood on one foot, fixing me with
 
 TWO SINNERS 221 
 
 a hard anxious eye. Finding that I was not 
 harmful she put down her foot and glanced at 
 the ground. Then she began pecking here and 
 there slowly and sinuously, moving into the road, 
 putting down her thin feet carefully, and looking 
 closely at every speck on the stony, chalky 
 ground. Every now and again she shot a keen 
 glance up at me. I had nothing to offer her 
 and she passed on and went towards the house. 
 I saw her fly with a sudden shriek of determina- 
 tion over the low wall of the farm garden that 
 rises abruptly uphill at the back of the house. 
 If I felt better in health I should get so much 
 pleasure out of the quiet movements of Nature 
 around me, but as it is I am grumbling, grumbling 
 because I have to sit useless, and when Maud 
 comes back I shall go to greet her, a thin, haggard- 
 looking woman. One thing I have made up 
 my mind to do. If Aunt Dorothy wishes to 
 keep Maud, she shall keep her. It has taken 
 me all this time to see what I ought to have 
 seen from the first, that I have no right to keep 
 Maud with me. Maud might, if she liked, make 
 life cheerful at No. 2, Brown Street. As to Stella, 
 I should then be able to help her when she failed 
 to make George's income do. After all, if I 
 had had a stronger moral nature, I might have 
 trained Stella into better ways. I am responsible 
 for both girls. They had no other guide and 
 what have I done for them ? " 
 
 " August 3. Last night I dreamed that Maud 
 suddenly came into my room and said : 'Oh,
 
 222 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Ursula, I could not stay any longer away from 
 you!' 
 
 " Although I saw her, touched her, clasped 
 her in my arms, I knew that ' something was 
 wrong,' and behind my joy was a strange and 
 secret anguish. Was that because for so long 
 I have known deep in my heart that Maud 
 cannot be happy with me ? Why should she ? 
 I do not doubt that she loves me but she needs 
 husband and children and I to her represent 
 all that she most dreads in life unfulfilled 
 womanhood ! The love of men has never come 
 my way, this might have made me bitter and 
 fanatical, but I have had to be a mother to Maud 
 and Stella. I have had the cares of maternity 
 and some of the joys, and I began those cares 
 so early that I had no time to think. Now that 
 I have time to think my prime is past and I 
 can be content with little ! 
 
 " Poor Maud, still in the strength of her 
 youth and beauty, she wants to live ! " 
 
 Here came a blank page in the manuscript. 
 Maud looked up from the book for a moment 
 and was conscious of the storm outside. The 
 body of Ursula lay in the next room peacefully, 
 as one sleeping her last sleep. No roaring of 
 the wind and no cry for forgiveness from human 
 lips could reach her in that far-off impenetrable 
 region from which no traveller returns.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 " SEPTEMBER 20. The strangest thing has hap- 
 pened to-day. I forced myself to walk thinking 
 perhaps that I was letting my ' will to be strong ' 
 falter. I went along the side of the rutty farm- 
 path towards the cliff. I got nearly to the New- 
 haven Road and could go no farther it is only 
 about two or three hundred yards. I could see 
 that a passing motor had come suddenly to a 
 standstill on the road, and the chauffeur and 
 another man were bending over the engine. 
 Something had gone wrong. I put down my 
 camp-stool and sat with my face towards them. 
 As I did so one of the men lifted his head and 
 looked round at me. 
 
 " Even now it seems impossible to be true ! 
 It was Lionel Kames ! 
 
 " For a moment he did not know who I was. 
 Was that because I had grown so thin ? Then 
 I saw that he recognised me, and straightening 
 himself, he stared with those large brown eyes, 
 and a sudden painful contraction of his face 
 showed me something of what he had suffered 
 since we last met. 
 
 ' Lionel ! ' I called out but I could not 
 move. I was too weary. He raised his hat 
 stiffly and I was afraid he was going to turn away,
 
 224 TWO SINNERS 
 
 when his whole face changed and he came straight 
 up to me. 
 
 " ' Are you alone ? ' he asked. Oh, how 
 glad I was to hear his voice again ! 
 
 ' Quite alone/ I said, and I suppose it 
 was my saying ' quite ' that brought a strange 
 fixed look into his eyes. He thought that I 
 meant that Maud was married or dead ! 
 
 " I said hastily ' Maud is still abroad with 
 Aunt Dorothy/ and I struggled up on my feet. 
 The sudden shock of meeting him just when 
 I was overcome by fatigue was too much for me. 
 I thought the ground was moving. I touched 
 his arm and felt him supporting me, encouraging 
 me as if I was a child, in that old genial manner 
 of his. 
 
 " By this time his chauffeur had got the 
 engine to work and Lionel called out to him 
 to go a little way along the road and then come 
 back and wait. 
 
 " After he had made me rest a few minutes 
 he took me back to the house. He has altered. 
 He looks older than he did eighteen months ago, 
 but he looks also firmer in character, or do I 
 think this because I know that it is true ? 
 
 " I had not meant to speak about myself, 
 but he drew everything from me everything ! 
 In those few minutes, I emptied my heart of the 
 burden of my illness and of my loneliness. I 
 couldn't help it, the consolation of having him 
 again was so great. When I reached this door 
 I dreaded saying good-bye but he did not 
 leave me, he came in here to this shabby little
 
 TWO SINNERS 225 
 
 sitting-room. He looked at nothing, but saw 
 everything that is like him. 
 
 " All this time he had never mentioned 
 Maud's name. I wanted to question him about 
 himself, all I dared ask was whether he was 
 living at Orpenden ? ' A man must live some- 
 where/ he replied. Then seeing that I was 
 hurt, he told me in a rapid monotone, as if to 
 make what he said as impersonal as possible, 
 that his headquarters were at Orpenden, but 
 that he had spent a year going about to the 
 different centres of labour in this country to 
 learn at first hand what the conditions were. 
 I suppose I remained standing because I was so 
 much surprised. * Labour,' Lionel interested 
 in ' Labour ' ! 
 
 " ' There are two questions, Ursula,' he said, 
 ' that do now, and will in the future, absorb 
 the world labour and religion. Religion I 
 leave to you.' Here he smiled in his old way. 
 Then he told me that he was standing as candidate 
 for his own Division at the coming by-election. 
 How amazing ! 
 
 " I did not know what to say I was so full 
 of thankfulness and pride in him. I am afraid 
 I showed my emotion, for he moved away with 
 a swift turn and said as if he was talking of 
 some one else ' An ordinary fool like myself 
 may drift on through his thirties still dreaming 
 that he is a boy but it takes a damned fool to 
 do that when he has passed forty.' 
 
 " How much lay behind that speech ! It 
 seemed to me splendid and pathetic. 
 
 Q
 
 226 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " Then he turned round again and scolded 
 me for not sitting down. He took off my hat 
 and placed me on the sofa, telling me not to 
 slide off it it is very slippery. He seized that 
 horrible striped wool antimacassar from the 
 back and spread it over me, saying that it made 
 a ' charming negligee.' 
 
 " Was I ever going to see him again ? I 
 could not ask the question ! Why should he 
 come and see a dull old maid ? 
 
 " ' I can see you haven't been to confession 
 for a long time and are getting slack,' he said. 
 * I shall be obliged to come and see how you are 
 behaving. No, I shan't tell you what day I 
 shall come upon you unawares and shall pro- 
 bably catch you bathing the farm baby and 
 saying that you are doing it for the sake of 
 exercise ' 
 
 " I told him that there wasn't a farm baby. 
 He said he was glad to hear it and then he 
 went, saying ' I shall come soon.' 
 
 " It is so unselfish, so forgiving of him after 
 all that has happened. He looks like a worldling, 
 and to those who don't understand him, perhaps 
 he talks like one, but all the time he is full of 
 human warmth and pity. And how strong he 
 is, in spite of all that has been against him in 
 his birth and training and the habits of a luxurious 
 life to pull himself together like this ! And 
 when he spoke about his chances at the Election, 
 he was so frank and modest. He said that the 
 seat was a pretty safe one and that if he was 
 elected it wouldn't be any credit at all to him.
 
 TWO SINNERS 227 
 
 I should like to hear him speak he would be 
 very straight and to the point. He would be 
 very amusing too ! 
 
 " ' Soon,' he said, but ought I to let him 
 come, will it not open afresh the old wounds ? 
 I thought I had the strength to do without 
 human love, and now that I have seen Lionel 
 again I am counting the hours because each 
 one brings me nearer to that ' soon ' ! " 
 
 " September 24. The world seems different 
 to-night. I look upon it with different eyes. 
 Not that I am afraid, but that things have lost 
 their old significance and for the moment all 
 seems a blank. When it was moonlight, I often 
 used to look out of my window at the light bare 
 open sky stretching beyond the cliff's rim from 
 which came an indistinct murmur of the sea, 
 and I used to think of those words : 
 
 " ' Hark to the tolling of bells 
 And the crying of the wind, 
 The old spells time out of mind. 1 
 
 These words to-night have no meaning for me. 
 They express the melancholy of life yes and 
 of human hope. Nothing is real to me now 
 but death ! 
 
 " The moment before Lionel came into the 
 room this morning, when I heard his step and 
 his voice, I felt a thrilling pleasure, but when he 
 entered I knew that ' something ' was going to 
 happen, something that I should fear ! He 
 flung himself down by me on the little narrow 
 sofa and broke the news to me, gradually to
 
 228 TWO SINNERS 
 
 help me. He told me he was going to take me a 
 long drive to London. Why to London ? Then 
 it came out. He was taking me to see a specialist. 
 He had arranged it all, and the hour. I was 
 amazed, confused, but I knew I had to go ! I 
 saw the necessity of it as soon as he put it before 
 me. He fastened my gloves for me, making 
 pretence that I was too stupid to do it myself 
 and he propped me up in the motor with cushions 
 and made me put up my feet, so that I should 
 feel fatigue as little as possible. I could not 
 help thinking of that drive we had eighteen 
 months ago from Brighton to Orpenden. How 
 different everything was now 
 
 " That half-hour in the doctor's room was 
 like a bad dream, a bad dream that stiffens in 
 some extraordinary way into solid reality ! 
 
 " Lionel led me away from that room and 
 in the motor he made me lean my head against 
 his shoulder while he held my hand, whispering 
 once or twice as to a sick child ' Poor old girl, 
 poor Ursula ! Be a brave girl.' I don't think 
 I am afraid only I have got to say good-bye 
 to him and to Maud. 
 
 " One thing I have made him promise, that 
 he will not tell anybody. Maud is coming back 
 next month, it is not necessary to let her know 
 till she returns. What is the good of bringing 
 her back earlier merely to watch me die ? " 
 
 " October 12. To please me, Lionel brought 
 me to-day Emily Bronte's poem that she wrote 
 the day before she died. She was conscious of
 
 TWO SINNERS 229 
 
 God within her mind and that gave her strength 
 beyond the strength of man. I have no strength 
 like hers. I am not conscious of God within. 
 I remember Father Fitzherbert saying that even 
 if it could be proved that Christ was a myth, 
 and that the vision of St. Paul was only the 
 reflection of his own thought, it would not 
 shake his faith in the Incarnation of God in 
 Humanity. But Fitzherbert is a wonderful 
 man. God is not merely an object of his faith, 
 but an absorbing passion. Like St. John of the 
 Cross, he could wander in the desert, desiring 
 no sacraments, having no further need for the 
 human instruments of Divine Grace, preferring 
 to die in solitude, alone with his God. 
 
 " As for me, there are moments when I 
 seem to lose sight of God, and at these moments, 
 if I did not believe that Christ had walked upon 
 this earth nearly two thousand years ago, I 
 think my heart would break. 
 
 " My moral courage has grown now that I 
 know I shall soon be face to face with ' ultimate 
 things,' and Lionel has become so much part 
 of the little of life that is left to me that I ven- 
 tured to tell him my thoughts. 
 
 ' Thinking it all over to-night I am so thank- 
 ful that I told him. He was deeply sympathetic. 
 He thinks now that ' truth ' will not be served 
 by ignoring what is called the ' religious sense ' 
 any more than by ignoring what is called the 
 * artistic sense.' He told me of a man, high in 
 the world of learning, who is fully convinced 
 that you have only to educate people to make
 
 230 TWO SINNERS 
 
 them ' prefer ' an ethical lecture to a religious 
 ceremony. ' You may as well believe/ said 
 Lionel, ' that you have only to educate people, 
 and you will get them to " prefer " a bath to 
 breakfast, or to " prefer " an ordnance map to a 
 water-colour by Turner. Bless you, they want 
 both. Why ignore the complexity of the human 
 mind or the needs of the human heart ? Even 
 if we can trace every instinct and every emotion 
 in the twentieth century to the effort of some 
 organic cell lying in a ditch to split itself in two, 
 that's only the history of the thing. That isn't 
 a solution of the problem " How " ? That an 
 organic cell should be able to split in two and 
 become two cells, each as complicated as the 
 first one, is what stumps me. To a plain man 
 like myself it isn't an answer to say " mechanism," 
 because it's more like " mechanic and mechanism 
 all under the same hat." 
 
 " He spoke all this in his usual tone, but, 
 dropping his voice, he added slowly and so 
 sadly ' What I have gone through lately has 
 made me less cocksure than I was because it 
 has taken all the bounce out of me, Ursula. 
 All I am certain of now is that I am an ignorant 
 fool/ 
 
 " Till this moment he had never even alluded 
 to the past. I knew that only some deep 
 emotion could have made him speak of it. It 
 brought us so much nearer together, that when 
 he went away, I felt as if half my heart had gone 
 with him. But I am happier than I have been 
 before. I feel that our friendship is deeper
 
 TWO SINNERS 231 
 
 than it was. I know now that his thoughts 
 will follow me when I pass through the Valley 
 of the Shadow of Death. Oh, I wish I could do 
 something for him, serve him in some way, 
 before I die. I can't bear to think of him going 
 about unsatisfied. I know he is filling his life 
 with work and interests, but all the time his 
 heart aches." 
 
 " October 22. The nurse has come. Lionel 
 was right to insist on it. She is a great comfort 
 to me. I need assistance now. I am so much 
 weaker. That Lionel should have taken all 
 the trouble off my hands about getting her 
 is so wonderfully kind and just at the moment 
 of the election when he is very busy. 
 
 " I can see by Maud's letters that it is not 
 her fault that they have again put off their 
 return. Nurse thinks I ought to summon her 
 back but she does not understand. It would 
 be sheer selfishness to do that. Maud will come 
 soon very soon." 
 
 " October 24. I am full of gratitude. Lionel 
 has got in with a large majority. He found 
 time to come down here in order to tell me 
 himself. May God bless him and his future 
 career, that is my prayer to-day." 
 
 "November 1. A fear has come upon me 
 now that I am not able to leave my bed, that 
 Maud will come too late for me to be able to tell 
 her all that Lionel has been to me. She ought to
 
 232 TWO SINNERS 
 
 know. It might make a difference ! Also if 
 she saw him now, might it not open her eyes to 
 his real value ? They must meet it is the 
 cry of my heart ! Her life would be safe in his 
 hands, and surely she, seeing all the depth of 
 kindness in his heart, would learn to forget his 
 faults. God knows we all have faults. I shall 
 have no peace now till she comes. Yesterday 
 I wrote to ask her what day she returns." 
 
 "November 11. Lionel found out that 
 Father Fitzherbert was lecturing in Brighton 
 this week. He went to see him and brought 
 him here this morning. They came into my 
 room together. It seemed a strange thing seeing 
 them together it was like a dream. Then 
 Lionel went away and left us. 
 
 " If I had any sad thoughts about death 
 before they have all gone now. I am conscious 
 of nothing but the strange privilege of existence 
 the mystery of our birth is as great as the 
 mystery of our death it is enough that I am 
 part of the Whole one of the many that have 
 emerged from that One and to which I return 
 with the experiences of my life within me. 
 Loneliness seems now an illusion. 
 
 " I find that Lionel had ordered nurse to 
 wire to Maud, only that I was to be told. I give 
 my consent that a wire shall be sent to-morrow 
 if Maud herself does not wire that she is crossing. 
 But I have a strange feeling that she will come. 
 
 '' The wind wails a little to-night and I heard 
 the sea-gulls screaming over the house at sunset."
 
 TWO SINNERS 233 
 
 ''' November 13 (afternoon). The wire came 
 at midday. Maud is on her way. She thinks 
 I can come up to town and stay with them as 
 soon as Aunt Dorothy has rested ! She will 
 know, poor girl, to-morrow by the first post, 
 that I shall never move from this bed again. 
 She will come to me at once. Nurse has looked 
 out the trains she may be here by eleven. 
 Although I know that I may live for many days 
 I feel as if the time was short. I think my 
 anxiety that my two dear ones shall meet, makes 
 
 me nervous." 
 
 " November 13 (evening). God in His good- 
 ness has spared me all physical pain only 
 weakness. I shall put down my pen soon and 
 not take it up again. To-morrow she will be 
 here and I shall have no need to write. I shall 
 see her face to face and speak all that is in my 
 heart." 
 
 The shaking handwriting ended there, the 
 rest of the book was blank. 
 
 Maud sat with the book on her knees, again 
 listening to the storm outside. It had spent 
 the worst of its fury and now the rain was coming 
 down and beating in the chimney, hissing among 
 the smouldering ashes. Then she fell asleep 
 from sheer exhaustion, in the grey dawn. 
 
 Maud's sleep was full of the sound of wind and 
 the sharp sting of the rain. She thought that 
 she was awakened suddenly by some fresh, 
 sharp, urgent call breaking in upon the noise of
 
 234 TWO SINNERS 
 
 the elements. She thought that she got up 
 from her chair, her limbs stiff and numbed with 
 cold and saw that the curtains were drawn aside 
 and the window wide open. Through it she 
 could see a great wide space stretching before 
 her to the horizon, and on the horizon a crimson 
 sun was rising in great flames, bathing all the 
 earth and skies in glory. 
 
 The strange noise came again, it was a voice 
 full of exultation calling to her and now she 
 could hear what it said : 
 
 :f The last day has come, arise and meet your 
 Lord and His saints ! " 
 
 Maud stood, stunned by the stupendous 
 news. Then an overwhelming joy came over 
 her. So the wretched problem of life was 
 solved, the crooked was to be made straight and 
 all tears were to be wiped away. 
 
 The voice called again, but this time the 
 words were indistinct and she saw through the 
 window a change coming over the landscape, 
 the colour swiftly fading from the great stretch 
 of earth and sky, and with a groan, Maud turned 
 and saw the ashes lying in the grate and that 
 she was not standing, but sitting stiff and 
 numbed in the chair in which she had slept. 
 No open window was to be seen, but through 
 the faded curtains daylight was peering. Maud 
 rose to her feet and pulled the curtains aside. 
 There lay between her and a cold sea-line the 
 sodden stubble and the narrow deeply rutted 
 road over which she had stumbled last night. 
 
 She felt dazed by the bitter disappointment
 
 TWO SINNERS 235 
 
 she was back again with the old problem of life 
 unsolved and the bitter sorrow of night no less 
 bitter in the grey light of a new morning. 
 
 Some one was knocking loudly at her door. 
 She now knew that some one had been knocking 
 several times. 
 
 She called " Come in," faintly. 
 
 The nurse came into the room. " Oh, Miss, 
 have you been up all night ? " she asked aghast. 
 
 " Do you want me ? " asked Maud simply. 
 For a brief second she wondered : " Has she 
 come to say that Ursula is alive ? ' : 
 
 No those tidings would never come to Maud 
 again on this earth. 
 
 " Father Fitzherbert," said the nurse, " is 
 asking to see you he is downstairs in the 
 sitting-room."
 
 CHAPTEE XXI 
 
 HE was there in Ursula's shabby little sitting- 
 room, seated by a dismal newly-lighted fire. 
 The same austere, commanding presence that 
 Maud had never forgotten, and this time no 
 phantom of her brain such as she conjured up 
 in that unhappy afternoon at Brown Street 
 eighteen months ago, no phantom, but Fitz- 
 herbert himself. 
 
 Memory often plays us false when our senti- 
 ment has been roused by some brief encounter 
 in the past, and we meet the person again only 
 to find to our disappointment that the heroic 
 stature we remembered has dwindled in the 
 light of fact down to normal proportions. But 
 when Fitzherbert rose and came to meet her, 
 Maud experienced, not disappointment in him, 
 but a heightened impression of force and person- 
 ality. Did he recognise her ? 
 
 Different as she looked now, with her hair 
 untidy, her face flushed with fatigue and Ursula's 
 dressing-gown wrapped loosely around her, from 
 the well-dressed, self-possessed young woman, 
 much occupied with the failings of other people, 
 whom he had met before, Maud saw that he 
 remembered her. She saw that behind those 
 grey eyes the brain was piecing together separate 
 links in a chain of circumstances that he now
 
 TWO SINNERS 237 
 
 had at his command. She closed the door 
 behind her. 
 
 " Father Fitzherbert," she said, and stood 
 where she was without offering her hand. " I 
 came too late ! " 
 
 He was close to her now. 
 
 ' You came too late," he repeated quietly. 
 " But you must not let that distress you." 
 
 ' Yes," said Maud hurriedly, for she felt a 
 sudden faintness with the strain of the meeting, 
 and she was afraid she might not have the 
 strength to finish what she wanted to say. " It 
 was my own fault ! I behaved selfishly to her 
 up to the very end. I have never all my life 
 done anything I ought to until I was driven 
 to doing it, and then it has always been too 
 late." 
 
 " Are you sure that this is not the self- 
 accusation of a mind full of distress and a body 
 that is exhausted 1 " 
 
 Maud trembled from head to foot, and she 
 clung to the arms that he put out to her for her 
 support. 
 
 Something in the fatherhood of his grasp 
 unloosened the pent-up anguish of her heart, 
 and Maud gave way at last to bitter weeping 
 that for a few minutes left her without power 
 to speak. How it came about she did not know, 
 but when at last she was able to articulate she 
 found herself at his knees, pouring out to him 
 everything without restraint, everything that 
 had burdened her conscience and destroyed her 
 peace, everything even to the meanest fears of
 
 238 TWO SINNERS 
 
 her girlhood, of her womanhood, all the stirrings 
 of a weak and passionate heart for personal 
 happiness, and the inevitable failure to find it. 
 
 And he, seated on that great shabby chair 
 where Ursula had watched the daylight sink 
 into night through so many a lonely week, he 
 listened with the patience of one whose daily 
 practice it is to minister to the lives of others. 
 When at last Maud drooped her face upon the 
 hot hands she had clasped round his knees when 
 she sank into exhausted silence, he raised her 
 from the floor and made her sit in his chair. 
 
 She lay back, watching him with heavy- 
 eyed attention, waiting for his directions. He 
 walked to the window and looked out at the 
 long stretch of sodden stubble lying beyond the 
 little gate. The wind still broke against the 
 house, but its fury was over ; the heavy sky 
 was beginning to break up into great tattered 
 masses ; the rain was no longer heavy, it was 
 coming down fitfully and the window-panes 
 had finer drops on them. 
 
 He walked back to the chair where she sat 
 and stood in front of her, looking down at her. 
 
 " You have suffered yourself," he said, " and 
 you have made others suffer. That is past, but 
 let me tell you that you have more suffering in 
 front of you." 
 
 " I know ! " she said. 
 
 " The past is past, your duty lies with the 
 future that is all that belongs to you. It is 
 about the future that I want to speak to you." 
 He spoke in a low voice and very calmly.
 
 TWO SINNERS 239 
 
 '' First of all I have to tell you what will 
 be a shock to you, but what it is necessary for 
 you to know. The man who was so dear to 
 your sister is now lying only half conscious at his 
 hotel. He does not know that your sister has 
 passed away." 
 
 " He's not dead ? " Maud's face became 
 colourless. 
 
 " Don't move," said Fitzherbert ; " sit still 
 and listen. You have been weak in the past ; 
 gather yourself together and be strong now 
 show yourself a woman of courage. You can 
 and you must." 
 
 She sat still and silent, watching the words 
 as they left his lips. 
 
 " Yesterday," he went on, " he was thrown 
 out of his motor and got some injury to his 
 spine. He was on his way here. The doctors 
 put him under morphia during most of yesterday. 
 I saw the nurses ; I went to Princes Hotel before 
 I came here. It is hoped that the injuries will 
 not permanently affect him, but he has to be 
 kept absolutely quiet, not only in body but in 
 mind. He was to have gone back to Orpenden 
 last evening to speak at a meeting. If he 
 recovers, it will be some days, perhaps weeks, 
 before he can take up his duties to his con- 
 stituency. All is being done that can be done 
 for him all that wealth can do." He emphasised 
 the word " wealth." 
 
 Maud put her hands over her face. She 
 could not bear the look in Fitzherbert's eyes. 
 She saw in them a reproach that she deserved.
 
 240 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Poor Lionel, he had all that wealth can give 
 wealth cannot command love. Wealth attracts 
 the parasites only. She had been a parasite ! 
 Poor Lionel ! 
 
 " I can see," he said, " that you are full of a 
 passion of pity. Great heroic things in this 
 world are often done in a passion of pity, but 
 still greater deeds are done by that far rarer 
 passion, the passion for justice. When it comes 
 to the treadmill of daily duty, when it comes to 
 the monotonous small warfare against our lower 
 nature which makes up life, passions carry us 
 but a little way nothing lasts out the fret and 
 wear of soul and body but the love of our fellow- 
 men and the sober determination to subordinate 
 self. This, mind you, is a religion for strong 
 men. You, just now, full of this passion of pity, 
 are picturing your old lover lying on his bed as 
 helpless as a child, and as long as he is dangerously 
 ill you will forget to criticise him or blame him 
 for the lack of spirituality, which lack you 
 acknowledge that you share. But when he is 
 well again supposing that he recovers how 
 will you feel then ? I seem to speak harshly, 
 but I am merely speaking what you in your 
 heart know to be true." 
 
 Yes, he was not speaking more harshly than 
 she deserved. 
 
 " You mean that I mustn't even ask him for 
 his forgiveness ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, I mean that. Are you willing to rake 
 up his emotions merely in order to get the 
 sensation of being forgiven ? You can't want
 
 TWO SINNERS 241 
 
 that you can't want that now. That is not 
 justice to him." 
 
 Maud dropped her eyes. 
 
 " And I mustn't even thank him for all he 
 has done for Ursula ? " she said. 
 
 " It is not necessary," said Fitzherbert. 
 ' You think he won't care," she demanded, 
 gazing up at her confessor again with her red- 
 dened eyes full of anxiety. 
 
 " I think he will care," he replied. " I 
 think that any interview under any pretext 
 will do him harm. He is accustoming himself 
 to life without you and is behaving like a strong, 
 sensible man ; do you propose to disturb him ? " 
 
 " He will never know how grateful I am 
 and how I honour him for his goodness to 
 Ursula 1 " 
 
 " No," said Fitzherbert. " He won't know, 
 but does that matter ? He brightened the last 
 days of your sister's life ; he knows that she 
 was grateful." 
 
 Maud found her way blocked. She had cut 
 herself off from Lionel's life and now she was 
 forbidden to return even as a humble friend. 
 
 " He will think that I don't appreciate all 
 that he did for Ursula," she said miserably. 
 " He will think I am even meaner than I am." 
 
 " If you follow the conventions of social 
 life," he said, " you will get Lady Dorothy to 
 write to him in her own name, yours and your 
 sister, Mrs. Broughton's, thanking him for all 
 that he has done. He will know that you are 
 all grateful that's as it should be." 
 
 B
 
 242 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Maud's eyes fell again. He was protecting 
 Lionel. He was standing guard over him, he 
 was carefully closing every door of access to him. 
 He was right. A man like Fitzherbert, who is 
 living in the lives of others, is likely to be right. 
 ' You have an opportunity now," said 
 Fitzherbert, " of showing that you are going to 
 act unselfishly. The truth is that Major Kames 
 lies between life and death. If he dies, you will 
 have the profound consolation of knowing that 
 you, at the last, considered him instead of 
 considering yourself." 
 
 Maud's lips assented. Her thoughts flew to 
 the Princes Hotel. Was he really dying ? 
 
 ' Then you will go back," said Fitzherbert, 
 " to Lady Dorothy as soon as you have done 
 all that can be done to reverence the body of 
 her who was to you as a second mother. You 
 will go back and undertake your new duties 
 cheerfully and not waste your time or wear 
 out your brain with profitless regrets. To do 
 that would be not retrieving the past but repeat- 
 ing it. Do you understand ? " 
 
 He moved away from her and walked again 
 to the window. " Miss Monckton, I must be 
 going ; the rain has stopped. I can walk to 
 Rottingdean and catch the motor bus. I have 
 time to catch the one that starts at half-past 
 nine." 
 
 Maud had been following him with her eyes. 
 She had been so wholly absorbed in her own 
 troubles that she had not noticed till now that 
 the skirt of his cassock below the knee was damp ;
 
 TWO SINNEKS 243 
 
 she also noticed that there was a leathern case 
 lying on the table. He had come so early this 
 morning in order to give her the sacrament if 
 she wished it and then he had found that she 
 was not prepared to receive it, perhaps did not 
 care to receive it, and now he was preparing to 
 go away just as he was fasting. Maud started 
 up from her chair, full of remorse. 
 
 ' You can't go fasting and with your cassock 
 not yet dry. Oh, Father Fitzherbert, I have 
 been neglecting you. You mustn't go till you 
 have had breakfast." 
 
 " My cassock is scarcely wet at all," he said ; 
 " I made my cabman drive me over the stubble 
 almost to the gate." But she would not listen. 
 
 "It is wet," said Maud, " and the kindest 
 thing you can do is to stay and let me give you 
 breakfast. You must eat somewhere it will 
 not delay you it shall be here in a few minutes." 
 
 Maud's tone of submission had changed 
 into one of command ; the signs of physical 
 fatigue in her face and in her movements 
 vanished. He was no longer her confessor, he 
 was simply a helpless man who needed looking 
 after. Before he could take it from her, she 
 caught up the poker and stirred the fire. It had 
 burnt up now and it burst into a blaze, roaring 
 up the chimney. It was surprising how soon 
 he collapsed into obedience. She made him sit 
 in the large chair and gave it a push towards 
 the fire as if he had been a child sitting in it, 
 only that, weighted with his six feet of solid 
 structure it would not move. To please her,
 
 244 TWO SINNERS 
 
 he jerked the chair forward and put his feet 
 upon the fender. Then she bade him remain 
 where he was till she returned, and she went 
 out of the room closing the door behind her 
 with the manner of one who wishes to shut 
 some unreliable person safely within. She 
 crossed the little oil-clothed passage and pushed 
 open a door. It led into the farm parlour. She 
 found there the farmer's wife and her niece, 
 and she begged them to get breakfast im- 
 mediately. But they were already preparing 
 it and became full of sympathetic haste at the 
 sight of her. 
 
 " We didn't know, Miss, quite when you 
 would want it," and the old woman hurried into 
 the kitchen. 
 
 Maud went back to the hall and climbed that 
 frail, creaking staircase with its shaky rail. She 
 had to pass Ursula's door. That door stood 
 out of the wall, slight and shabby and yet 
 cruelly conspicuous and significant. Maud 
 passed it heavily and turned into her own room. 
 She bathed her eyes and made a hasty toilet. 
 She dressed rapidly, conscious all the time she 
 did so that it had been Ursula who had taught 
 her how to be rapid and methodical in dressing 
 as in everything else of a practical nature. 
 Whatever there was in her that was good so 
 Maud said to herself had been created by 
 Ursula ; whatever there was of bad belonged to 
 her own nature. And now Ursula was gone, 
 and the one other being in the world who really 
 cared for her and whom Ursula had loved was
 
 TWO SINNERS 245 
 
 possibly at this moment slipping out of life. 
 For all that she knew she might be absolutely 
 alone except for Aunt Dorothy. But Maud 
 dared herself to cry again. Ah, she must not. 
 She ought not to have cried so much with 
 Fitzherbert ; it must have been very trying 
 for him. She must go down quietly and give 
 him breakfast, and speak and act calmly so 
 that he could eat in peace. 
 
 In less than a quarter of an hour from the 
 time she had left it, Maud entered the sitting 
 room, still red-eyed and weary-looking, but 
 quiet and self-possessed and alert. 
 
 Breakfast was already laid, and while the 
 coffee and dishes were being fetched Maud went 
 round to the fire. " Don't get up," she said 
 almost imperiously to Fitzherbert. " Is your 
 cassock dry ? That is all I want to know." 
 
 Yes, it was dry, he said. 
 
 Maud bent down and felt it with her hand. 
 
 " You don't take my word for it ? " ques- 
 tioned Fitzherbert, submitting to having his 
 cassock handled by her. 
 
 " It isn't quite dry," she said. " Why did 
 you say it was dry ? " 
 
 " It seems dry," he said. " Besides, the 
 matter is a trifling one." 
 
 " Things don't seem dry if they are damp," 
 said Maud rather faintly. She was standing up 
 now and she looked down at his face reproach- 
 fully. She was vexed to think that all this 
 splendid manly moral strength and helpfulness, 
 all this keen intelligence was lodged in a body
 
 246 TWO SINNERS 
 
 that was so unprotected and so uncared for. 
 Why, if he went on like this he might be taken 
 ill and die any day. 
 
 He smiled. That smile made it worse. It 
 showed that he was hopeless. She did not 
 return the smile. She shook her head. Un- 
 fortunately she could not do with him as she 
 liked, there were conventions in the way, but she 
 meant to do as much as she dared. So, after 
 seeing him seated at the table, she took the large 
 striped woollen antimacassar that had been used 
 for Ursula and laid it over his knees, saying : 
 
 " Even if you are angry, please let me have 
 my way I am hostess." 
 
 This time he laughed and allowed the barbaric 
 covering to remain where she placed it, and she, 
 rejoicing that he was submissive, smiled for the 
 first time and sat down opposite to him. They 
 took their breakfast at first in silence, but 
 afterwards he talked about Ursula, telling Maud 
 that she had spoken about being buried in the 
 little church down in the hollow behind the farm. 
 Maud had already gathered this from the nurse, 
 and last night she had written to the Vicar. 
 Eitzherbert asked if there was anything he could 
 do for her in Brighton, but there was nothing ; 
 Maud had either made the arrangement or was 
 going to do so that morning by the evening 
 she expected her Aunt Dorothy and Stella. 
 There would be no room for them in the farm, 
 but they would put up at Eottingdean. 
 
 Maud went out with him into the little hall 
 to see him put on his cloak. She helped him
 
 TWO SINNERS 247 
 
 on with it in silence. A large shabby umbrella 
 stood near the door with a hat balanced on it. 
 It was his umbrella and his hat. He had put 
 his leathern case under his arm, and now good-bye 
 must be said. He held out his hand to Maud. 
 
 Were they never to meet again ? Was he 
 to go away knowing what no one else knew of 
 her intimate thoughts and never speak with 
 her again, never trace any further the history of 
 her life ? 
 
 What his life was, what his thoughts were, 
 was as far from her knowledge now as they had 
 been when she first saw him standing in the 
 vestry of that church in London. 
 
 ' You will probably see it in the papers," 
 he said, " but if you like I will let you know how 
 Major Kames goes on. Would you like me to do 
 that ? " 
 
 This man standing guard over Lionel and 
 forbidding her to see him or communicate with 
 him, at least did not want her to suffer more than 
 was necessary. He was her friend as well as 
 Lionel's. 
 
 She looked up at him and spoke impulsively. 
 " I want to know more than anything else in 
 the world ! " 
 
 She felt a sort of dull amazement at her own 
 emotion and stood confused and silent while he 
 gazed intently down at her. 
 
 " 1 will write to you then," he said, " I shall 
 be in Brighton till Monday, as I am preaching 
 on Sunday. So, Miss Monckton, you leave 
 everything absolutely in my hands ? "
 
 248 TWO SINNEES 
 
 " Yes," she said, " if you will not forsake 
 me altogether because you despise me." 
 
 " I don't despise you," he said, " but I want 
 you to tread the narrow path. I want you to 
 do your duty you know as well as I that 
 outside the path of duty there is no peace for a 
 man's soul." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Maud, " and no peace 
 inside alas ! " 
 
 " There is and you will find it," said Fitz- 
 herbert. " But it doesn't come all at once." 
 
 " You know," said Maud a little tearfully. 
 
 " I do know," he said. ' Trust me, and 
 good-bye ; God be with you." 
 ^ He squeezed her hand very tightly, and then 
 he put on his hat, seized his umbrella and pulled 
 the door open. He raised his hat and went out, 
 shutting the door heavily behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE events of the next two days passed with 
 a strange unreality. What stood out most 
 definitely to Maud was the solitary evening she 
 spent on that first day when she tore page by 
 page of Ursula's diary and burnt it at the fire, 
 heart-sick as she did so. Ursula would not have 
 wished it to be kept. Then letters came by the 
 morning and afternoon posts, and among the 
 letters that arrived none came from Father 
 Fitzherbert. There was a good deal to be done. 
 The Vicar had come to see her at once and was 
 eager to do anything that he could. He even 
 went to the Brighton station to meet Lady 
 Dorothy and Stella and take them to their 
 room at Rottingdean. 
 
 Most of the arrangements had to be made at 
 once before their arrival. However, when they 
 did arrive Maud found that they had no views 
 of their own and had taken for granted that 
 she would decide everything, and that they 
 were prepared to be satisfied with her arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 * You will come back with me ? " was indeed 
 what was uppermost in Lady Dorothy's mind, 
 and she was unable to suppress the question, 
 though she asked it in a tone that implied that
 
 250 TWO SINNERS 
 
 there could be no question about it. The 
 funeral was to be on Saturday morning, and 
 Maud begged to be allowed to stay on by herself 
 at the farm till the late afternoon of that day. 
 Lady Dorothy made no difficulty ; she and 
 Stella would go back together. All she wanted 
 was the certainty of being in sole possession 
 of Maud that certainty filled up the vacancy 
 of her life and gave her courage. She was 
 sincerely sorry about Ursula, and shocked and 
 rather remorseful at the thought that there had 
 been no member of the family to minister to her 
 last wants. 
 
 As to Stella, it was her first experience of 
 death and she was overwhelmed by it. After 
 all, Ursula had been the only mother that she 
 had known, and she walked over from Rotting- 
 dean to see the room which Ursula had used 
 and to see her step-sister's body lying peacefully 
 in the coffin, with a pain at the heart that she 
 had never felt in her life before. 
 
 In looking over and in packing Ursula's 
 things Maud had found Ursula's will. She had 
 opened and read it to see if it gave any directions 
 about the funeral. There were none except 
 what Maud knew already, that the grave was 
 to be in the churchyard in the hollow of the 
 Downs behind the farm. 
 
 The will was very short and simple, and 
 Maud saw that she was made sole executor, that 
 half the capital was to be in her trust on Stella's 
 behalf, and that the other half was to be hers, 
 Maud's, absolutely.
 
 TWO SINNERS 251 
 
 In order that Stella should feel that Maud 
 was not leaning on her rights as executrix, she 
 brought the will down into the sitting-room 
 and gave it to Stella to read and then went out 
 of the room as she could not bear to see the 
 paper being unfolded. 
 
 When she returned she found Stella huddled 
 in the great chair, crying bitterly. 
 
 " Stella ! " said Maud, for she had never 
 known her sister cry like this before, not even 
 when she took her upstairs to the door of Ursula's 
 room. 
 
 Stella got out of the chair, came to Maud 
 and flung herself on her neck. 
 
 " Ursula was so just," was all she could 
 articulate. " She didn't want to but she 
 thought it was right." Maud understood. 
 
 George Broughton came down to the funeral. 
 He arrived on Friday night, and early on Satur- 
 day morning the four mourners, followed by the 
 farm people and the nurse, walked behind the 
 coffin, which was carried by the footpath over 
 the ridge of down into the tiny churchyard. 
 
 There were no traces left of the recent storm 
 except that they could hear the sound of the sea 
 distinctly as they walked in silence. At the 
 ridge of down overlooking the dean there lay, 
 suddenly discovered by the eye, the little grey 
 church with its squat spire, a small grey vicarage 
 in a clump of trees, and a cluster of labourers' 
 cottages straggling down to a narrow, sluggish, 
 chalky brook at the bottom. Beyond that lay a 
 valley, unseen, and a shoulder of down blocking
 
 252 TWO SINNERS 
 
 the view to the horizon. The sky was a clear 
 blue, with heavy clouds drifting low towards 
 the north. 
 
 The coffin-bearers and mourners descended 
 the dean, sheltered here from the keen but 
 gentle breeze that came up from the sea. The 
 sun was almost hot on their heads as they moved 
 slowly towards the church. The tiny grey 
 church with its little grey churchyard looked 
 so much the " home " of all true lovers of the 
 Downs "that Maud felt a momentary comfort 
 in her heart. 
 
 They saw the coffin lowered and the earth 
 thrown upon it. They laid flowers round the 
 spot, and they all went away, except Maud. 
 She went into the church for a moment and 
 looked round it. Ursula must have looked at 
 these short, stout, homely Norman pillars, and 
 at the little altar under that deep rose window. 
 She must have until she became too ill to get 
 as far she may have looked, as Maud did at 
 that moment, through the rounded southern 
 door out to the sunshine lying on the mounds 
 of turf outside. Maud walked back to the farm 
 and sat in Ursula's room till she knew that the 
 grave must be covered in and the dead left in 
 peace, and the churchyard empty of living 
 intruders. It was early in the afternoon when 
 she went back again to the churchyard. The 
 sun was beginning to settle down in the west, 
 it was already deepening to a clear delicate 
 orange and gilding the grey walls of the church. 
 The tombstones were also gilded and the white
 
 TWO SINNERS 253 
 
 flowers on Ursula's grave were tinged with the 
 faintest yellow. 
 
 Maud rearranged the flowers herself. There 
 would be now until the end of her life something 
 about that small spot in the churchyard that 
 was personal, something familiar and yet in- 
 explicably strange, because death is strange. 
 That spot held part of her own past, a past 
 that was gone from her and yet in some obscure 
 form of memory there lying at her feet. 
 
 Maud lingered on till the sun sank below the 
 ridge of down into the southern sea and the sky 
 became flushed with crimson. Then the air 
 grew colder, and the church and the graves 
 became a little dim. A cypress close to Ursula's 
 grave was trembling in all its leaves, and at the 
 western horizon against the crimson sky Maud 
 could see when she looked up a little clump of 
 withered trees with their branches moving rest- 
 lessly. The dark rampart of clouds that had 
 perpetually drifted at the northern horizon were 
 still there, still drifting, and yet as they drifted 
 being replaced by new clouds that seemed to 
 come up from below in never-ending procession. 
 The crimson gradually paled into rose pink, and 
 the rampart of drifting clouds and the clump of 
 withered trees darkened. So did the cypress 
 close at hand, and the light paled on the church 
 and the stones at the head of the scattered 
 graves. Maud bent over her sister's grave for a 
 last farewell, and then resolutely turned her face 
 to the south. As she climbed the narrow foot- 
 path she turned and looked back at the church,
 
 254 TWO SINNEKS 
 
 the churchyard, and the village houses behind 
 them. A faint mist from the bottom of the dean 
 was creeping over them it had not yet reached 
 the church and churchyard. But darkness was 
 settling on the whole valley the cypress close 
 to Ursula's grave had turned black and looked 
 as if it were standing motionless. Maud gazed 
 at the west, and it was as if some superhuman 
 artist hand had stippled all the pink sky with 
 black and had turned it into a marvellous, 
 melancholy amethyst. The little clump of 
 withered trees on the long, smooth ridge was as 
 black as the cypress there below. A cold gust 
 of wind met her as she reached the top of the 
 down. She turned once again and looked down. 
 All behind her lay in obscurity ; all outlines had 
 disappeared ; nothing remained but a great 
 empty abyss of mist, in the chilly heart of which 
 she knew lay Ursula's grave. 
 
 She hurried along towards the farmhouse, 
 which was standing plainly against the clear 
 twilit sky. As she got nearer, nearer yet, a 
 star came out over the sea, minute, bright and 
 steady. 
 
 The old farmer and a farm lad were waiting 
 at the gate for her. They were already loading 
 a small cart with things that had belonged to 
 Ursula and that Maud had packed. They told 
 her that below, on the Newhaven road, a taxi 
 was waiting to take her to the station. It 
 had come punctually to time. It was past five 
 o'clock. 
 
 Maud went into the house for a moment to
 
 TWO SINNERS 255 
 
 say good-bye to the farmer's wife, and a letter 
 was handed to her. It had come by the after- 
 noon's post. The writing was a man's. It 
 was the letter that she had been waiting for at 
 every post. It had come at last. A sense of 
 suffocation seized Maud as she took it into her 
 hand. She had to compel herself to show no 
 emotion. 
 
 With the letter in her hand she walked into 
 the sitting-room. It was almost dark there ; 
 only the light of the fire enabled her to see. 
 All Ursula's own possessions had gone, but there 
 was the great chair, the narrow, hard sofa with 
 its striped woollen antimacassar and the little 
 table in the middle. The three people who had 
 been most significant to her in her life had all 
 been in this room, and in this room Maud prayed 
 for strength to bear what the letter might 
 contain, and into the prayer she put Ursula's 
 name ; it came naturally both the prayer and 
 name. Maud did not doubt that whatever 
 there was of Eternal and Ultimate, Ursula had 
 always been and would now be a part of it. Then 
 she went out of the room and closed the door 
 gently behind her, the letter still unopened. 
 
 She bade a brief good-bye to the farm people, 
 and then went out into the cold night air. It 
 was almost dark. She followed the lumbering 
 cart, steeling her heart against self-pity and 
 forcing herself into an attitude of resignation. 
 She gave directions to the driver of the cart 
 about the luggage and went to the door of the 
 taxi. The chauffeur asked for a direction.
 
 256 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " The Brighton station," she said, and she 
 got into the taxi and shut the door after her. 
 
 The farmhouse was not visible it was merged 
 into the darkness of the approaching night* 
 
 She felt the car move. Then she broke open 
 the letter, and making herself deaf to the inward 
 clamour of her heart she read the lines by the 
 light of the lamp : 
 
 " DEA.R Miss MONCKTON, 
 
 ' The doctors are satisfied with his 
 progress. If you have anything you want to 
 say to me, write. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "JAMES FITZHERBERT." 
 
 " Thank God ! " was all she could say. She 
 pulled the window of the car down and leaned 
 out to speak to the chauffeur, who slackened 
 immediately. " Go to Hove station instead of 
 the Brighton station," she said, " and as soon 
 as you can, get on to the old coast road and go all 
 along the front till you have to turn up to the 
 Hove station." 
 
 She left the window quite down and breathed 
 in the fresh cold air in deep draughts. Then 
 she read the letter over and over again. There 
 was hope hope for him hope ! 
 
 She could not lean back ; all her muscles 
 were tightened and her nerves were strung up; 
 her thoughts worked at high pressure. She 
 watched the lights as she glided past them. 
 She felt the car turn abruptly down towards the
 
 TWO SINNERS 257 
 
 sea, and very soon they were on the parade in 
 front of Sussex Square. She peered keenly at 
 the windows of their old lodgings as she passed 
 lodgings where so much had happened. There 
 were lights in their windows ! Alas, alas, no 
 Ursula there that dimmed the joy that memory 
 must always dim her joy. Once she put her 
 head out of the window and looked at the sea. 
 It was making a fretful sound, dragging at the 
 steep shingled beach and before her lay miles of 
 curving lights stretching away to Hove and then 
 dimly on to the ancient basin of Aldington and 
 on to the harbour of Portslade. She drew in 
 her head and sat back in her corner. They 
 passed the first pier, crowded with lights ; then, 
 as they went on, they passed the last pier ; it 
 was almost in darkness. They reached Hove 
 and now Maud closed the window towards the 
 sea and opened the other window, and sitting 
 close at it, watched for Princes Hotel. Was 
 his room facing the sea ? Which of the lighted 
 windows would be his ? Here was the hotel 
 full of lights which was his ? The car sped past 
 the hotel. It was gone and Maud sank back 
 into her corner. Did he know that Ursula had 
 passed away ? Was he well enough, strong 
 enough to be told any news ? Was he being 
 nursed well enough ? Would they keep him 
 quiet enough ? Would they really save him every 
 shock, every unnecessary emotion? Oh, she would 
 not trust them ! They might do something 
 foolish, something neglectful and he would 
 perhaps suffer for it for the rest of his life ! 
 
 3
 
 258 TWO SINNERS 
 
 London was so far from Hove. She had never 
 thought of that before ; it was cruelly far off ! 
 Supposing he had a relapse, if such a thing was 
 possible in his case suppose he were to die after 
 all or suppose he was never to become really 
 well ? But Fitzherbert had said that the doctors 
 were satisfied ; that sounded as if he might 
 recover completely if only he was being nursed 
 properly ! He was having done for him all that 
 wealth could do. There was a sting in those 
 words of Fitzherbert' s. Love can do so much 
 more than wealth, and Lionel had no one watch- 
 ing over him who loved him. A hired nurse 
 might omit something important she wouldn't 
 see all that was wanted with the thousand eyes 
 of love ; she would not think with the subtle 
 ingenuity of love of all the possible ways of 
 averting danger ! It was Maud's own fault 
 that he was there alone with only nurses. If 
 she had been able to love him she would have 
 been there looking after him ; if she had under- 
 stood all that was best in him, instead of seeing 
 only his faults, she would have been there 
 watching over him ! 
 
 The taxi turned inland and in a few minutes 
 it stood at the Hove railway station. Maud 
 got oat slowly ; the porter told her that she had 
 only three minutes to spare, but she did not 
 hasten. She bought her ticket and got into the 
 train just as it was starting. 
 
 She sat back in her corner and began to 
 think again. How could she ever make Lionel 
 respect her again? He had trusted her, and
 
 TWO SINNERS 259 
 
 then found she wasn't to be trusted ! There 
 came back to her a vivid picture of that last 
 afternoon at Brown Street. She saw again the 
 look that Lionel had given her when he was 
 standing in the middle of the drawing-room. 
 She remembered the exact tone in which he had 
 told her that he was going to sing something 
 for her alone that the others would not under- 
 stand. Then that song that hymn. 
 
 Now she understood his profound sympathy, 
 his keen desire to read the world with her eyes. 
 Simply for her sake he was trying to think with 
 her thoughts. 
 
 If Ursula had heard that song sung as he 
 sang it she would have known at once the love 
 that lay behind it. And with these thoughts 
 crowding into her brain Maud drifted farther 
 and farther into the darkness, away from the 
 man who was lying so still in his room at the 
 Princes Hotel. Fitzherbert had said, " Write, if 
 you have anything to say ! " Anything to say '? 
 
 Maud found pencil and paper and began to 
 write. When she got home she would copy it 
 out in ink and have it posted at once. It would 
 reach Father Fitzherbert at Brighton on Sunday 
 morning. 
 
 What she wrote was : 
 
 " DEAR FATHER FITZHERBERT, 
 
 " Thank God for your news but you 
 send me no details, and I am still so anxious. 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " MAUD MONCKTON."
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII 
 
 FOR the time being Stella's domestic troubles 
 seemed to be providentially lightened. She was 
 so much softened by her grief at Ursula's death 
 and so grateful to the memory of the dead that 
 for the first time in her life she felt passionately 
 eager to give somebody pleasure. 
 
 A brilliant idea occurred to her. It was so 
 brilliant and so obvious that she wondered 
 whether Maud might not think of it too and 
 forestall her. In order to make this impossible 
 she put her idea into objective reality with no 
 delay, and about a week after their return from 
 Rottingdean Stella arrived at No. 2, Brown 
 Street, looking very handsome and mysterious 
 in her black hat and veil and carrying with 
 some innocent ostentation, under her arm, a small 
 basket. 
 
 With the insight born of much previous 
 suffering, Jackson perceived that the basket 
 contained a future menace to the peace of the 
 household above and below stairs. 
 
 Stella said, " Is Miss Maud at home ? " and 
 her two dimples were very deeply set in her 
 cheeks as she asked the question. 
 
 Yes, Miss Maud was at home. 
 
 At this Stella walked right into the hall, 
 basket under arm, and spoke softly. " I will
 
 TWO SINNERS 261 
 
 run up to her room then," she said to Jackson, 
 " and please tell her that I'm there waiting for 
 her." Stella's blue eyes were sparkling and her 
 earrings swaying and her dimples were hard 
 set as she ran upstairs without stopping till she 
 got to Maud's bedroom. There she knocked, and 
 receiving no answer she burst in with all haste. 
 
 Jackson, with his figure stiff and his eyes stiff 
 and even his hair unsympathetically stiff, went 
 in search of Maud, found her and gave her the 
 hated information in a voice of malignant 
 resignation. It was a voice that portended 
 evil and Maud, struck by the tone of it, hurried 
 upstairs. When she reached her room and 
 opened the door she found Stella seated in the 
 middle of the floor, holding a small brown 
 Pekinese dog by a leash. The basket in which 
 it had been brought was tossed to one corner of 
 the room. 
 
 " Stella ! " exclaimed Maud. 
 
 " Well ? " said Stella, smiling hard under her 
 black hat. "Well?" 
 
 " Is it yours ? " asked Maud, with her eye- 
 brows raised. 
 
 "Now is it likely?" said Stella. "You 
 know I hate household pets, whether they are 
 cats or dogs. I can't abide them." She laughed 
 and snapped her fingers at the Pekinese. 
 
 :< Then what are you going to do with it ? " 
 
 Maud knew perfectly well what she was 
 going to do, but she was amazed. Another 
 Kiddie ! Stella might at least have consulted 
 her wishes in the matter ; after all she would be
 
 262 TWO SINNERS 
 
 very deeply involved if there was to be another 
 Kiddie ! 
 
 " It's my present to Aunt Dorothy," said 
 Stella. " She will never have the courage to 
 buy one herself and yet I know she simply longs 
 for one." 
 
 " I think you might have told me," said 
 Maud. 
 
 " I thought it would be a lovely surprise," 
 said Stella, rather disappointed. 
 
 "It is not a surprise, it's a shock," said 
 Maud. 
 
 The small brown-and-black face stared up 
 at her with its bulging eyes and sniffed into the 
 air. 
 
 " You won't suffer, Maud, old girl ; it's a 
 silent kind," said Stella. " George says it'll 
 be all right. He says it's just the very thing for 
 Aunt Dorothy." 
 
 " Then Aunt Dorothy won't care for it," said 
 Maud promptly ; " you know that, Stella. She 
 prefers a dog that is hysterical ! " 
 
 " She will worship it," said Stella. " It's so 
 sweet. Look at its absurd face and it says 
 nothing." 
 
 " That's the mischief from her point of 
 view." Maud knelt on the floor and took up the 
 dog, who submitted calmly, and sitting on her 
 arm it now stared hard at Stella and sniffed in 
 her direction. 
 
 " It really isn't so bad," said Maud. 
 
 " I knew you'd love it," exclaimed Stella. 
 " It's got a perfect character. Now I want you
 
 TWO SINNERS 263 
 
 to go and put it into Aunt Dorothy's arms, 
 saying that it is a present from me will 
 you?' : 
 
 Maud rose to her feet with the dog still on her 
 arm. 
 
 " I wonder whether she'll mind," said Maud 
 musingly. 
 
 " She simply aches for a dog," said Stella, 
 " only she won't say so. I want you to put it 
 in such a way that she'll feel forced to keep it. 
 You'll do that better than I shall ; if I give it 
 to her I shall simply burst out laughing and 
 that won't do." Stella got up from the floor. 
 ' Where is Aunt Dorothy ? " 
 
 " She is in the writing-room," said Maud, 
 still stroking the smooth small head. "It is 
 very sweet." 
 
 " I knew you'd say so after you had really 
 examined it," said Stella, shaking her earrings. 
 
 " Aunt Dorothy will corrupt its soul and send 
 it eventually to hell. She won't be happy till 
 she has trained it for the infernal regions," said 
 Maud softly. 
 
 " Oh, to botheration with the infernal 
 regions," said Stella. " She can't make it 
 shriek like a Pom ; it's not its nature." 
 
 !< It'll acquire the power of shrieking then," 
 said Maud. 
 
 " It'll get too fat, that's all," said Stella. 
 " Come, Maud, I simply can't wait any longer. 
 Let us go downstairs. I shall go into the dining- 
 room and wait there till you come and tell me 
 how the affair is going. I want Aunt Dorothy
 
 264 TWO SINNERS 
 
 to think I've gone, but you slip downstairs and 
 speak to me." 
 
 The two sisters went downstairs together till 
 they reached the drawing-room floor ; then 
 Stella ran lightly down to the dining-room and 
 left Maud with the dog in her arms just outside 
 the writing-room door. Lady Dorothy was 
 sitting at the table, writing. She saw at a 
 glance what Maud carried in her arms and she 
 stared through her glasses. 
 
 ' What's that ? " she called out. 
 
 " Oh, a kind of dog," replied Maud, looking 
 down at the animal as if she were not sure 
 whether it mightn't be something else a sort 
 of a cat, perhaps. 
 
 " Take it away, my dear," said the old lady 
 firmly. 
 
 "Take it where, Aunt Dorothy? It's a 
 great nuisance, but Stella has left this as a 
 present to you. It's bought and paid for. I 
 suppose you will have it returned to Stella and 
 you know the kind of stepmother she will be ; 
 she'll stuff it the first day and then leave it to 
 starve. I wash my hands of it. I really can't 
 be responsible for it." Maud placed the dog 
 on the table, where it sat and stared hard at Lady 
 Dorothy, sniffing towards her as was its nature 
 to do. 
 
 Lady Dorothy looked intently at the dog 
 through her glasses. 
 
 "We don't want a dog," said Maud. "I 
 told Stella that, but it was too late ; she'd got 
 it. I wish she had consulted us beforehand.
 
 TWO SINNERS 265 
 
 Are you going to put it in the waste-paper basket 
 or burn it ? " 
 
 The dog took a step nearer to Lady Dorothy 
 and then moved carefully over the blotter and 
 stepped down on to her lap merely because it 
 was the most obvious way of finally reaching 
 the floor. 
 
 " Well, little orphan," said Maud, putting out 
 her hand to stroke it, " shall we send you back 
 to your stepmother or consign you to the 
 fire ? " 
 
 Lady Dorothy's soul was full of conflicting 
 emotions. A sense of the impropriety of allow- 
 ing a new dog to sit on her lap battled with her 
 desire to have a dog sitting on her lap especially 
 a very small dog. 
 
 Maud suddenly moved away. " I quite 
 forgot that Stella has left the basket lying about 
 and I am afraid it will be thrown away ; " 
 and so saying she slipped out of the room and 
 closed the door behind her. She ran upstairs to 
 her room and found the basket. Then she ran 
 downstairs and went into the dining-room. 
 Stella was walking about the room impatiently. 
 
 " Well ? " she asked, her face full of excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " It's sitting on her lap," said Maud. " I 
 have told her that if it is returned to you you 
 will forget about it and starve it. I think that 
 has made an impression." 
 
 " It isn't true," said Stella indignantly. 
 " But you know that I hate an animal in the 
 house ; it's always wanting something and
 
 266 TWO SINNERS 
 
 it's always in the way. Do you think she'll 
 keep it ? Does she like it ? " 
 
 " I have hopes," said Maud. 
 
 " Perhaps I had better go now," said Stella. 
 " I don't want her to find me." 
 
 " Take the basket with you," said Maud. 
 '' That will help. I shall tell her that you took 
 it away with you." 
 
 "Oh, what fun!" said Stella. " I do so 
 long to know what happens." Stella took up 
 the basket and went into the hall with Maud. 
 When they reached the door she turned to her 
 sister with an expression of keen curiosity in her 
 face. ' You don't see the paper George takes 
 so I have brought it with me." Stella pulled a 
 paper out of her muff and held it towards her 
 sister. " There is something in it I have marked. 
 How it is we have never seen anything before 
 I don't know it just happens like that some- 
 times. Don't forget to look." 
 
 Maud's face grew crimson. She took the 
 paper silently. There was only one subject of 
 thought in the world for Maud just now only 
 one subject in the " living " world. 
 
 " You've seen it already ? " demanded Stella, 
 blushing too at the sight of her sister's emotion. 
 
 " There is no relapse ? " she questioned, 
 startled out of her reserve. 
 
 " Relapse ? No ! He's getting better," said 
 Stella as she stood gazing at Maud with her 
 blue eyes getting more and more intense. ' ' Why, 
 do you care ? " 
 
 Maud drew a long breath. If he was getting
 
 TWO SINNERS 267 
 
 better why had not Fitzherbert sent her fresh 
 news ? She looked away from Stella's face and 
 said : ''' It was Major Kames who looked after 
 Ursula all those last weeks." 
 
 Stella stood amazed. " Major Kames ! How 
 do you know, Maud ? " 
 
 Maud turned away. " I know from some 
 writing that Ursula left behind her and also I 
 heard from the nurse. I was only waiting to 
 tell Aunt Dorothy till I heard that Major Kames 
 had recovered. I can't talk about it, Stella : 
 it hurts me," and she walked to the foot of the 
 stairs. 
 
 " I hadn't the faintest idea, or I wouldn't 
 have spoken," said Stella. 
 
 " I know, I know," said Maud, and she began 
 mounting the stairs. Stella opened the hall 
 door and went out reluctantly. She was leaving 
 behind so much that interested her. Anyhow, 
 she had something of interest to startle George 
 with when he came home. So Major Kames 
 had looked after Ursula ! Stella felt the cool 
 November air keenly against her hot cheeks. 
 After all, Major Kames must be a gentleman ! 
 What with the dog and with this sudden dis- 
 covery about Major Kames, Stella had more 
 to think about than her brain would hold. 
 Suppose, after all, something came of it all. If 
 Maud was repenting, something would come of 
 it. It would be delightful to have a married 
 sister at Orpenden who would ask her and George 
 to come over continually. It would be very 
 agreeable, and as to Aunt Dorothy, why, there
 
 268 TWO SINNERS 
 
 she was with a new dog what more could she 
 want ? Stella almost bounded along in the 
 faint autumnal sunshine. 
 
 Alone in her bedroom, Maud unfolded the 
 paper and searched for Stella's mark. There it 
 was. With a beating heart she looked at the 
 short paragraph. It was very short and con- 
 tained less information than she had hoped for : 
 Major Kames was sufficiently recovered from his 
 recent motor accident for the doctors to sanction 
 his removal to Orpenden this week. That was 
 all ! Orpenden was nearer to town than Hove. 
 Only thirty miles away ! What did " sufficiently 
 recovered " really mean ? Did it mean that he 
 was able to move, to read, to listen to conversa- 
 tion ? What did it really mean ? Her letter 
 to Fitzherbert begging for more news had not 
 yet been answered. She must write again 
 at the risk of displeasing him she must write. 
 
 A knock came on her door and she hastily 
 put away the paper. Eugenie's face appeared. 
 " Her ladyship wants you, Miss Maud." 
 
 Had Aunt Dorothy just seen a similar para- 
 graph in the Morning Post ? 
 
 Maud went downstairs, bracing herself up 
 for the interview. She meant to be very calm, to 
 say as little as possible and yet to say all that 
 was necessary. She almost prayed that her 
 aunt would show some reserve in her questions 
 and in her remarks, and not say anything 
 dreadful. 
 
 Maud opened the door. Her knees were a 
 little shaky as she walked into the room ; she
 
 TWO SINNERS 269 
 
 was painfully conscious that her face was flushed ; 
 her hands felt icy cold. Now the ordeal had 
 to be gone through. Lady Dorothy had left 
 the writing-table ; she was now seated by the 
 fire with the Morning Post spread upon her 
 knee. Upon a hassock beside her and opposite 
 to the fire lay the Pekinese in real or simulated 
 slumber. 
 
 " Maud ! " called out Lady Dorothy, without 
 turning her head. 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Dorothy," said Maud faintly. 
 
 ' Well, my dear, you'll never guess ! " she 
 said, still without turning her head. 
 
 " Not guess, Aunt Dorothy ? " said Maud. 
 " Perhaps 
 
 " Well, I'm going to keep him ! " 
 
 " Keep him ! " repeated Maud, confused for 
 the flash of a moment. 
 
 " He can never take the place of my darling, 
 but as Stella has paid for him I scarcely like to 
 refuse him." 
 
 Maud laughed a little huskily. 
 
 " He's not bad, is he, Aunt Dorothy ? " she 
 said. 
 
 " He's too placid," said Lady Dorothy ; 
 " but in spite of that I think he is intelligent, 
 and we might take him out with us and try him. 
 We can drive to the Park and then just walk 
 him about a little and see how he follows." 
 
 " He must be kept on the leash," said Maud, 
 " for a few days." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be safer," said Lady 
 Dorothy. " What is his name, Maud ? "
 
 270 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Maud had never thought of asking. 
 
 " I really don't know/' she said. " Hadn't 
 you better give him one and accustom him to 
 it from the very beginning ? I suppose it must 
 be something with a Chinese ring about it. I 
 can't think of anything but Souchong and Orange 
 Pekoe ! " 
 
 For a moment there was a silence in the room, 
 and then Lady Dorothy spoke musingly. 
 
 " I shall call him Pic-ca-noo-noo," she said. 
 
 " What does that mean ? " asked Maud. 
 
 " I don't know," said Lady Dorothy. 
 
 Maud was careful all that morning and 
 indeed all the rest of the day to take no notice 
 of the dog so as to allow him to fall into the 
 habit of considering Lady Dorothy as his sole 
 and particular friend. He fell into the empty 
 niche of Kiddie with remarkable ease, making 
 no objection to sharing Lady Dorothy's siesta 
 after lunch. He curled himself up before the 
 fire as if he had always acted as her companion 
 on these occasions. 
 
 Maud had an interview with Jackson before 
 the tea was brought into the drawing-room. 
 
 " Jackson ! " she said, "don't bring up 
 Kiddie's tea-cup ; Pic-ca-noo-noo can drink 
 out of an ordinary cup." 
 
 " The ordinary cups aren't shallow enough, 
 Miss," said Jackson, with a weary loathing of the 
 name Pic-ca-noo-noo. 
 
 " Never mind. Let her ladyship settle the 
 matter herself. You know, Jackson, you'll get 
 quite reconciled to Pic-ca-noo-noo," said Maud,
 
 TWO SINNERS 271 
 
 pronouncing the name very emphatically. 
 " He's an immense moral improvement on poor 
 Kiddie. You'll get to love Pic-ca-noo-noo, 
 Jackson." 
 
 Jackson bridled at the word " love." " I'm 
 sure I hope he'll continue to be an improvement, 
 Miss," was all he would admit and he did so 
 gloomily. 
 
 ' Well ! " said Lady Dorothy, during the 
 quiet evening as they sat by the fire. Maud was 
 reading a book and Lady Dorothy pretending 
 to sew but really examining the new pet on her 
 lap. ' Well, we must get a special cup to- 
 morrow, Maud, and by the way Stella must be 
 thanked. I think I'll just go and write her a 
 line. After all, it was so kindly meant though 
 of course Stella knows quite well that nothing 
 can really take the place of my poor darling." 
 
 Lady Dorothy felt that fidelity to the past 
 required her to repeat this formula to other people. 
 
 " No other dog could replace Edddie," said 
 Maud enigmatically. 
 
 ' What do you say ? " asked her Aunt 
 Dorothy a little sharply as she crossed the room. 
 
 " I said, Aunt Dorothy, that no other dog could 
 replace Kiddie. You know what the poet says ? 
 
 " The earth ia ample east and west, 
 But two may not walk abreast." 
 
 " Oh, you and your poets ! " grunted Lady 
 Dorothy, and she walked off, but she had 
 Pic-ca-noo-noo on her arm. The last post had 
 just come in and there was no letter from
 
 272 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Fitzherbert. Maud went upstairs to her room. 
 In a drawer lay a letter to Fitzherbert already 
 written and stamped and addressed to him at 
 his London address, but the envelope was not 
 sealed. Maud pulled the paper out and read it : 
 
 " DEAR FATHER FITZHERBERT, 
 
 " I see in the papers that he is going to 
 be removed to Orpenden. Your silence makes 
 me afraid that this report is not correct, or that 
 it does not mean a real recovery. 
 
 ' Yours sincerely, 
 
 " MAUD MONCKTON." 
 
 There was nothing that she intended to add 
 to this brief letter. It expressed all that she 
 wanted to express. She put the paper back 
 into its envelope and sealed it. Surely it would 
 bring an answer. Then she went down to the 
 drawing-room again and sat pretending to read, 
 but really listening for Jackson's entrance. 
 Fitzherbert would get the letter by the first 
 post to-morrow, and a reply might come before 
 the evening. 
 
 And so Maud waited with great patience till 
 the following evening, but the post brought no 
 answer. The next day passed slowly away and 
 still no answer came, and the next after that ! 
 If only she had not " promised " to do nothing, 
 she could have sent a formal request for news 
 to the housekeeper at Orpenden. 
 
 It was on the third evening after she had sent 
 her last letter that she began to be seriously 
 alarmed at Fitzherbert's persistent silence.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 WHAT has a dim religious light, the mysteries of 
 Gothic arch and groined roof, the glimmer of 
 lights, the ascending cloud of incense, the swift 
 and subtle music, the subdued voices and the 
 prostrate worshippers what has all this to do 
 with the problem of human life ? 
 
 In old days Maud would have answered this 
 question without hesitation ; she would have 
 answered that all this has very little to do with 
 the problem of human life. 
 
 It certainly has very little significance to the 
 harried speculator of the Stock Exchange, whose 
 breathless scramble for " more money " is the 
 chief contribution he offers to the solution of the 
 human problem. 
 
 It is certainly of little significance to those 
 " men and women of the world " who are occupied 
 in swelling the number of their pleasures as their 
 contribution to the human problem. 
 
 To all who feel confident that because there 
 is neither hell nor heaven there is therefore no 
 need for religion, it has as much and no more 
 significance than has a season ticket to an 
 exhibition that is now closed. 
 
 To Lady Dorothy it had a significance vaguely 
 connected with safety in the next world, but 
 this significance was only apparent on Sunday 
 
 T
 
 274 TWO SINNERS 
 
 mornings at eleven o'clock, an hour that lay 
 conveniently between breakfast and lunch. 
 
 On other days and at other hours she was 
 shrewdly suspicious of churches, of religious 
 ceremonials, even of private meditation, because 
 time that ought to be " employed " in the society 
 of Noonoo and of afternoon callers ought not 
 to be " wasted " on devotional exercises. In 
 short, she was doubtful whether any ecclesi- 
 astical barrier ought to be raised between herself 
 and the Eternal Source of Light except on Sunday 
 at morning service (with the Litany) at a 
 moderately Evangelical place of worship. Fortu- 
 nately for Maud, Lady Dorothy was not one of 
 those elderly ladies who are possessed by a 
 sinister activity or by a passion for ceaseless 
 desultory conversation. Unlike many of her 
 sex, she allowed her companion to read, and she 
 was at the present moment so much absorbed 
 in her efforts to make Noonoo behave badly and 
 thereby acquire a rich, free personality, that 
 Maud found opportunities of slinking out of 
 the house, full of a secret shame at doing some- 
 thing unaccustomed. There, in the dim aisle 
 of a neighbouring church, she could be alone 
 and give herself up to the task of searching 
 within her own soul for that God for whom she 
 longed, the God of Ursula and of Fitzherbert. 
 And was the search hopeless ? She hoped as a 
 wrecked sailor hopes for a passing ship. 
 
 How immeasurably far from us are ultimate 
 things ! We creep forward slowly in our spiritual 
 evolution as we do in every field of thought.
 
 TWO SINNERS 275 
 
 How many centuries did it take us to rise from 
 the confident propitiation of strange stocks and 
 stones to the height of that despairing cry of 
 St. Augustine : that when man realises that 
 he cannot apprehend God, then he apprehends 
 Him best. Alas ! we are at the mercy of our 
 sensations, our perceptions, our ideas ; they 
 are the source of all our error and the only 
 criterion we have of truth. 
 
 Meanwhile the days went by heavily for 
 Maud, for no answer had as yet come from 
 Fitzherbert. She was almost at the end of 
 her patience when at last a letter arrived at 
 lunch-time. She saw the handwriting at once 
 and allowed the letter to remain unopened until 
 Lady Dorothy went upstairs for her usual after- 
 noon slumber. Then Maud went into the draw- 
 ing-room, pulled a chair near to the fire and 
 sat down deliberately to open her letter. She 
 meant to read its contents, whatever they might 
 be, with absolute calm. The letter consisted 
 of a page of Fitzherbert's small, neat writing : 
 
 " DEAE Miss MONCKTON, 
 
 " There is no further need for you to 
 be anxious about the health of Major Kames " 
 (here Maud drew a very long breath, a rather 
 palpitating breath, notwithstanding her intention 
 of being calm). " He has practically recovered 
 from the injuries to his spine ; they proved to be 
 much slighter than was at first thought. 
 
 " He has also recovered from the shock, but 
 I am sorry to say that the doctors have now
 
 276 TWO SINNERS 
 
 discovered, what had escaped their notice before, 
 owing to the difficulty of examining him, some 
 sort of injury to the right leg that cannot be reme- 
 died without incurring risks that they are not pre- 
 pared to advise. Major Kames may always be a 
 little lame : that is, it is probable that he may 
 not be able to walk again without the aid of a 
 stick. When he first recovered consciousness 
 after his accident and was told that he might 
 be disabled for some weeks, he sent a message 
 to his Committee offering to resign his seat, but 
 his resignation was refused. Meanwhile a pair 
 has been found for him and the doctors hope 
 that his lameness will be slight enough to allow 
 of his taking up his Parliamentary duties shortly. 
 " Believe me, your sincere friend, 
 
 "JAMES FITZHERBERT." 
 
 Maud leant back in her chair, the letter 
 lying on her knees. One sentence stood out 
 clearly from the rest : " Major Kames may not 
 be able to walk again without the aid of a stick." 
 
 Lionel Kames would never be able to hunt 
 again. He would never be seen again striding 
 loosely along the Parade at Brighton with his 
 slight slouch ; he would never be able to run 
 easily up those half-dozen great shallow steps 
 at Orpenden House. 
 
 Even if he were ever again to come to No. 2, 
 Brown Street, he would have to mount these 
 stairs to the drawing-room slowly, holding on to 
 the balusters with his left hand and using his 
 stick with his right.
 
 TWO SINNERS 277 
 
 Maud found herself picturing Kames walking 
 to the foot of the stairs and beginning to mount 
 them. In imagination she walked in front of 
 him, looking back at his face as he came up one 
 step at a time slowly. She could see his face, 
 looking as it did that night after they had come 
 back from the theatre ; she could see his lips 
 move and hear him say words that had since 
 haunted her persistently : 
 
 ' If we knew ourselves as we really are we 
 should die of laughing or go mad." 
 
 So much absorbed was she in her thoughts 
 that she did not notice steps outside the drawing- 
 room door, nor did she hear the door open. The 
 sound of Jackson's voice broke in upon her 
 harshly and unexpectedly. 
 
 " Mr. Broughton ! " 
 
 Maud jumped up from her chair. Broughton 
 was alone. 
 
 ' You were asleep ? " he questioned. " I 
 am sorry I disturbed you." 
 
 " I wasn't asleep," said Maud, clasping her 
 letter and trying to look unconcerned. " I was 
 only thinking." 
 
 ' Thinking hard ? " said her brother-in-law. 
 Had she been thinking of Ursula ? 
 
 Maud reseated herself and asked if Stella was 
 well. 
 
 " Perfectly well," said Broughton. looking 
 about the room as if to seek for a chair which he 
 couldn't find. Then he suddenly left off looking 
 and took a chair quite near to Maud and sat 
 down on it.
 
 278 TWO SINNERS 
 
 ' You and Stella are coming in to dinner 
 to-morrow as usual of course," said Maud, now 
 becoming conscious that her brother-in-law was 
 not in his usual spirits. She guessed that his 
 visit was purposely early and that he had come 
 to speak about something something trouble- 
 some to judge by the look in his eyes as he 
 turned them towards her. 
 
 Was it about domestic difficulties ? Maud 
 had never examined Stella's bills nor looked 
 over her housekeeping accounts such as they 
 were nor had she gone into the question of 
 meals that would be suitable for an overworked 
 husband. The prospect of having one hundred 
 and fifty pounds a year in addition to their 
 present income had banished from Stella's mind 
 all misgivings as to the future. 
 
 She felt sure that she would now have plenty 
 of money for everything more than enough 
 considering her really very economical manage- 
 ment. There was therefore no need for Maud 
 to interfere ; in fact Stella had mentioned her 
 doubts whether, after all, any one woman can 
 realise the domestic problem of any other woman 
 and that therefore the most sensible course for 
 Maud to take was to take no course at all and 
 to retire modestly from any attempt to muddle 
 things. 
 
 Maud, thus admonished, had not mentioned 
 the subject again. 
 
 Had George come to re-open the subject ? 
 
 ' You and Stella are not golfing this after- 
 noon ? " asked Maud. Somehow the word
 
 TWO SINNERS 279 
 
 "Stella" would come into every sentence she 
 uttered. " Ought you to lose Saturday afternoon, 
 George ? " 
 
 " I can't always manage it," he replied. 
 " I've promised to take Stella to see this new 
 piece at the Court this evening and I ctin't 
 manage that and golf and the train there 
 and back and my morning's work at the 
 Laboratory." 
 
 Maud saw how tired he looked already with 
 the work of the week behind him. 
 
 " Oh," she said, in a doubtful tone. 
 
 " And if we move, golf will be a little less 
 accessible than it is now," and he laughed 
 slightly. 
 
 So this was what he had come to speak about ? 
 Stella wanted to move ? She wanted a larger 
 flat in a more central position ? 
 
 " Stella wants to move ? " suggested Maud. 
 
 " She doesn't like Hampstead," said 
 Broughton. 
 
 " But I thought you went there because of 
 your health," said Maud. 
 
 " Yes," said Broughton. " But I am quite 
 well." 
 
 Now that he was no longer flushed by his 
 brisk walk in the cold air, the tired look under his 
 eyes came out prominently and the leanness of 
 his jaw was marked. He was still handsome 
 and distinguished, but his youth had gone : 
 what a contrast he and his wife were ! She 
 blooming like a rose, unaware of responsibility, 
 undertaking nothing that required concentration
 
 280 TWO SINNEES 
 
 of mind or which entailed fatigue. He already 
 beginning to be seared by the strain of work 
 and anxious thoughts about the present and the 
 future. 
 
 " Do you want to move ? " asked Maud 
 point-blank. 
 
 Broughton hesitated for a moment. 
 
 " I am not keen about it ; it's different for 
 me. I don't mind our sitting-room being small 
 or the fact that we are not near anybody." 
 
 Maud's eyes dropped. 
 
 " The fact is, Maud," said Broughton, his 
 voice a little askew, " I believe that Stella would 
 be willing to stay where we are if she had more 
 outlet for her energies." Here he gazed at 
 Maud with wide-open eyes. " Our sitting-room 
 is too small, Stella can't sing in it and there is 
 no room for an audience. From her point of 
 view the room is absurd." 
 
 Maud met his eyes as she sat thinking deeply. 
 
 " You see," continued Broughton, " it's rather 
 hard on Stella. She has given up a career for 
 my sake and I naturally want her to suffer 
 as little as possible." 
 
 " Given up a career ? " repeated Maud. 
 
 " A career of music," he said quietly. " A 
 career in which she would have been able to 
 distinguish herself, express her own genius and 
 realise her true self. Now she is like a caged 
 bird, unable to spread its wings and fly." 
 
 Stella's true self expressed in her own genius ! 
 Maud was filled with amazement ! Possibly 
 Stella might have got a post as chorus girl on
 
 TWO SINNERS 281 
 
 account of her great good looks, but that was 
 more a matrimonial career than a career in art. 
 George Broughton's generous sympathy and 
 reverence for his wife was very beautiful, or, 
 thought Maud, was he trying hard to keep up 
 an illusion about her that had already begun to 
 fade ? Had he discovered that the enchanted 
 palace with its distant glint of gold on nearer 
 survey was only the glitter of sunrise upon the 
 windows of a common house ? Was he deter- 
 mined to be loyal to his romance in spite of this 
 discovery ? 
 
 " The difficulty of course is," continued 
 Broughton, leaning back in his chair and crossing 
 his knees with studied quiet, " that we simply 
 can't afford a more expensive flat." 
 
 The " rights " of those who feel themselves 
 born to delight humanity are now restricted by 
 the severe conditions of the financial world, 
 by the patience or lack of it in the public. But 
 under a system of socialism in the future each 
 individual will, no doubt, claim from the State 
 an education suitable to his or her native talent. 
 May there not be a heavy task, requiring a 
 superhuman insight and a stern moral courage, 
 awaiting those members of the bureaucracy 
 whose duty it will be to judge, from an amazing 
 crowd of aspirants, the few who are likely to 
 acquire a mastery of the Arts ? 
 
 Maud pondered for a moment over 
 Broughton's words, then a bright idea came 
 to her. 
 
 " Do you think," said Maud, " that if Aunt
 
 282 TWO SINNERS 
 
 Dorothy could be induced to give parties and 
 let Stella sing at them, Stella would be contented 
 to remain where she is ? " 
 
 Broughton uncrossed his legs and leaned 
 forward rather eagerly. 
 
 " I think she would," he said, " I think it 
 possible." In fact this was what he had already 
 planned in his mind as a way out of the dilemma. 
 
 " Then I must try and persuade Aunt 
 Dorothy," said Maud. 
 
 Broughton sat staring at Maud very much 
 as a patient might at a trusted doctor who has 
 just described a remedy. 
 
 " Do you think you could ? " he said. ' You 
 see, Maud, the fact is money difficulties are the 
 very deuce ! " 
 
 " I know they are," said Maud. " I've had 
 some experience of them." 
 
 " I believe I could do really good work," said 
 Broughton, " if I could only have my mind free 
 from anxiety." He had not intended to say 
 this ; the words had sprung to his lips almost 
 automatically, moved by Maud's rapid response 
 to his thoughts. 
 
 A slight colour came into his face. " Every 
 man, when he marries," he went on, trying to 
 cover his mistake rapidly, " has to face the fact 
 that he is no longer his own master." He said 
 " every man " with great emphasis. "It is 
 just the same for women ; they have to give up 
 much that is precious to them when they marry. 
 They can't do just what they want to do." 
 
 Maud flushed a little. " Can't do just what
 
 TWO SINNERS 283 
 
 they want to ? " she said, and she began folding 
 up the letter that was still clasped in her hands 
 and put it away in its envelope. There was 
 something a little fierce in her voice, which struck 
 Broughton. 
 
 ' We can always do just what we really can 
 do," she added enigmatically. Then she noticed 
 that Broughton's hand wandered to his chin 
 and his eyes sought the ground rather gloomily, 
 and she felt a pang of regret at her words. They 
 had been uttered with a certain self-satisfaction 
 and regardless of him. His burden would be 
 less easy to bear if he came to believe that it 
 was an unnecessary burden. 
 
 " I feel sure," she said hastily, " that some- 
 thing could be done for Stella. Now that 
 Kiddie has gone and Aunt Dorothy is safely 
 provided with a dog that doesn't bark which 
 was Stella's doing 1 don't see why we shouldn't 
 entertain a little more in a modest way. Can 
 you keep Stella from taking any step for a fort- 
 night or so ? That will give me time. I will 
 find some good opportunity of discussing the 
 subject with her." 
 
 Maud was keenly anxious to help him ; she 
 showed it in her voice and manner and he was 
 moved to speak his gratitude. 
 
 When he said " Good-bye," he stood holding 
 her hand for a moment and looking as if he 
 wanted to say something more. All this time, 
 ever since he had first met her, Maud had never 
 once mentioned Kames's name to him. He had 
 caught a momentary glimpse of the little drama,
 
 284 TWO SINNERS 
 
 but it was at the period in his own life when he 
 was absorbed by the romance and uniqueness 
 of his own love affair. Since then he had had 
 time to think of Maud, of Kames and of Kames's 
 relations with Ursula ; indeed, Stella had lately 
 talked about them with a persistence that had 
 been rather fatiguing. Was this sympathetic, 
 sensible girl whose hand he was holding, the 
 same girl who accepted and then jilted Kames 
 in cold blood ? As Broughton looked down at 
 her, he decided in his own mind that, whatever 
 had happened, it could not have been all her fault. 
 Anyhow, there was nothing that he had a right 
 to say even by way of sympathy. So he merely 
 pressed her hand closely and went away. 
 
 It was a little irritating to him, on his return 
 home, to hear from Stella that she had made up 
 her mind to " find out " whether Lady Dorothy 
 was still being " kept in the dark " about Major 
 Kames. 
 
 " Don't interfere, Stella," he said, gently 
 but firmly. " Let Maud manage her own affairs." 
 
 He could not have chosen words which would 
 have aroused Stella's moral disapproval more 
 keenly. 
 
 ; ' It's not that I want to interfere, as you so 
 politely put it," she said, " but I have what you 
 haven't, my dear boy some interest in other 
 people's lives ; and as to its being Maud's 
 affair, it isn't her affair at all. Major Kames's 
 accident is public property and it would be 
 only just to him and to the memory of dear 
 Ursula to let Aunt Dorothy know that Major
 
 TWO SINNERS 285 
 
 Kames was kind to her when she was dying. 
 So I mean to tell Aunt Dorothy to-morrow." 
 
 Broughton looked at his wife. They were 
 sitting in their tiny drawing-room. The piano 
 was open and the music scattered about. Stella's 
 feet were upon the fender ; the large coffee stain 
 on the carpet was conspicuous at her side. In 
 view of their going to the theatre that evening 
 George was to be treated at seven o'clock to 
 what Stella called a " scramble meal," consisting 
 of tea and indigestible compositions bought at 
 a shop. She was full of contentment at the 
 prospect. Her earrings were swinging and her 
 eyes brilliant. She was not merely happy in 
 the anticipation of an exciting evening, she was 
 also glowing with a sense of importance, duty to 
 be fulfilled on the following day (Sunday) when 
 they went to dine as usual at No. 2, Brown 
 Street. 
 
 " I shall tell Aunt Dorothy to-morrow, 
 George," she said. " I really shall, dear," she 
 said, laughing with renewed good temper.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 LADY DOROTHY had never in the past allowed 
 Stella to smoke in her house : that is to 
 say, Stella had smoked in her bedroom. Now 
 that Stella crossed the old-fashioned threshold 
 of No. 2, Brown Street as an independent married 
 woman, she boldly marched into the library 
 behind the dining-room to join her husband after 
 dinner. There she smoked a cigarette hastily, 
 and leaving her husband to follow her later on 
 joined the gayer company of the two ladies in 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 On this Sunday evening she came up even 
 sooner than usual and by the most favourable 
 chance she found Lady Dorothy alone, Maud 
 having gone into the writing-room to search for 
 a letter that her aunt had mislaid. 
 
 Stella went to the fire and seated herself on 
 the fender stool. Then she plunged at once 
 in medias res, prefacing her story about Major 
 Kames with a brief " Of course, you know, Aunt 
 Dorothy ? " 
 
 Lady Dorothy didn't know ; how could she 
 know ? She hadn't heard a word nor had she 
 seen any notices in the paper, although she always 
 read the paper through, excepting only the Parlia- 
 mentary, the Foreign, the Learned, the Literary, 
 the Legal and the Financial news.
 
 TWO SINNERS 287 
 
 Any emotion that she might have felt at 
 having been kept in complete ignorance was 
 swallowed up in the emotion she felt in the news 
 itself. To hear anything of any kind about the 
 long-lost Major Kames was exciting enough, 
 and to hear that he had been injured and had 
 recovered and was actually about to enter the 
 world of public affairs was absorbingly enter- 
 taining and touching. But when Stella spoke of 
 his visits to Ursula in her illness, that took Lady 
 Dorothy's breath away. 
 
 What was it that had always attracted him 
 to poor Ursula ? Heaven only knew. It was 
 a mystery, one of these mysteries that would 
 always remain a mystery. Lady Dorothy had 
 confident expectations that at the Day of 
 Judgment what she called " practical mysteries " 
 would be cleared up. She had a vague impression 
 that the Recording Angel, sitting on nothing 
 of course, because, in addition to the mental 
 pictures suggested by her hymn-book, Lady 
 Dorothy also held unconsciously a humble form 
 of the " higher criticism " ; the Recording Angel 
 sitting (as already described), would turn over 
 the pages of his book and read aloud to those 
 disembodied spirits (in forms composed of some 
 non-material material resembling chiffon) who 
 were interested, the secrets of all the Ages. 
 But the mysteries of the heart, such as why 
 Major Kames admired Ursula, belonging as they 
 did to a region outside of " actual facts," would 
 never be disclosed. 
 
 " And to think," exclaimed Lady Dorothy,
 
 288 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " that that attractive man was within an inch 
 of being killed ! " 
 
 Major Kames lying between life and death ! 
 What if he had died ? She could almost picture 
 him " Beyond the Rubicon," singing (without 
 a piano accompaniment). Fortunately that 
 painful mental picture was unnecessary ; he 
 was alive and well. 
 
 Stella gazed up at her aunt's flushed face, 
 at the eyes sparkling behind her eye-glasses. 
 Stella was much flattered at the excitement her 
 news had caused. 
 
 " I thought you ought to be told," she said, 
 in a solemn voice. 
 
 " Of course," said Lady Dorothy, " of course. 
 I wish I had known before. To think that he 
 was lying so ill and no one from this house sent 
 
 / \j 
 
 to inquire." 
 
 " I felt sure you ought to know," said Stella 
 again very impressively. 
 
 " Of course I ought to have known," said the 
 old lady. " I shall write to him immediately, 
 before I go to bed." 
 
 " I couldn't be sure, of course," went on 
 Stella, "that Maud hadn't told you, but I 
 thought I ought to find out. George didn't want 
 me to ; he wanted me to leave it all to Maud 
 and to say nothing ; but it appears, as I rather 
 suspected, that Maud said nothingtoyou about it." 
 
 " Fancy her not telling me ! " cried Lady 
 Dorothy. " It really was too silly ; there are 
 limits to that sort of propriety. I suppose it 
 was a case of amour-propre."
 
 TWO SINNERS 289 
 
 " I am glad I was right in telling you," said 
 Stella, as she stroked Noonoo's placid head. 
 " I am glad I was right very glad ! " 
 
 " Quite right ! " said Lady Dorothy. " He's 
 been in a serious accident and must be sympa- 
 thised with and he must also be thanked for 
 having looked after Ursula. I can't ask him to 
 come and see us, of course. Dear me ! What a 
 pity the whole thing is ! If Maud remains an 
 old maid, which 'pon my word seems likely, 
 she'll only have herself to blame." 
 
 Stella was going to say once more, " I am glad 
 I was right ! " for she felt that her devotion to 
 the cause of duty had not been sufficiently 
 acknowledged, when there came a sound of some 
 one at the door and she said instead very 
 hastily, " Don't say anything just now to Maud, 
 please, Aunt Dorothy ; it would be so awkward 
 for me. Maud wouldn't understand." But the 
 lady addressed had already turned herself in 
 her chair at the sound of Maud's entrance and 
 she called to her niece in a voice that prophesied 
 an approaching storm. 
 
 Maud came in and walked up to her aunt's 
 chair. There she stood looking down at her 
 aunt's animated face. She guessed what was 
 coming. 
 
 " My dear child," said Lady Dorothy, " you 
 have left me to find out by accident that Major 
 Kames showed extraordinary kindness to poor 
 Ursula at the last, when we couldn't be with 
 her in fact, when we didn't know she was ill. 
 Also that he has himself been nearly at death's 
 
 u
 
 290 TWO SINNEKS 
 
 door. Now I call that heartless of you, or else," 
 she added, relenting at Maud's white face, " or 
 else very silly, too silly for a woman of your 
 age who ought to know something about social 
 obligations by this time. We ought, of course, 
 to have thanked Major Kames. Thanked him," 
 she repeated, nodding her head emphatically. 
 
 Maud stood silent. Stella, very much em- 
 barrassed, stroked Noonoo so roughly that the 
 little animal rose up from her lap and tried to 
 dodge away from under the imprisoning hands. 
 
 Lady Dorothy's vexation was already rapidly 
 fading away before Maud's humility. 
 
 ' We have always avoided talking about 
 Major Kames on your account, but it is going 
 too far, my dear, to suppose that a man's name 
 must never be mentioned even if he is dying 
 simply because you don't want to marry him. 
 That's turning sense into nonsense." 
 
 To make the situation more trying for Maud, 
 the door opened and Broughton came in. He 
 perceived instantly that he was involved in a 
 domestic scene and stood for a second thinking 
 whether he could, without blame, go back to the 
 library and smoke another pipe. But it was 
 too late. 
 
 " George ! " called out Lady Dorothy. " All 
 this time I have never known that Major Kames 
 looked after poor Ursula, when we didn't know, 
 you know, how ill she was. Just think, he has 
 never been thanked ! It is more than annoying, 
 it is scandalous ! " 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Broughton in a con-
 
 TWO SINNERS 291 
 
 dilatory voice, " of course he ought to be thanked. 
 You ought to write and thank him, Aunt 
 Dorothy." And he moved away towards the 
 piano and began looking over some old music 
 that belonged to nobody in particular, pieces 
 that had been left behind by their owners for 
 many, many years and conscientiously collected 
 together into a dismal heap by Jackson. 
 
 At last Maud's lips moved. 
 
 " I am sorry, Aunt Dorothy. I didn't 
 realise the whole situation," she said. 
 
 " I should think you didn't," said Lady 
 Dorothy. " Fortunately he is quite well again. 
 He might have died. Fortunately he is quite 
 well again." 
 
 " Major Kames is not quite well again," 
 Maud spoke slowly and stiffly ; "his right leg 
 was injured and it is feared that he may always 
 have to walk with the aid of a stick." 
 
 " How do you know that, my dear ? " de- 
 manded Lady Dorothy. " Stella, you never 
 mentioned that ! " 
 
 " A mutual friend, Father Fitzherbert, wrote 
 yesterday, telling me," said Maud. 
 
 Lady Dorothy stared at her niece, and then 
 exclaimed, " Dear me ! " Then she sank back 
 in her chair, and Noonoo, who had succeeded in 
 releasing himself from Stella, came round to his 
 mistress's chair and jumped upon her lap. 
 
 " My poor pet ! " murmured Lady Dorothy, 
 her thoughts still in a whirl of excitement at the 
 news about Major Kames. 
 
 " Walk with a stick how sad ! " she said
 
 292 TWO SINNERS 
 
 remorsefully. " A man of that build, already 
 inclined to err on the stout side, is bound to 
 grow very stout if he can't take a great deal of 
 exercise : and there's one thing a man ought 
 never to get, nor a woman either, and that is 
 stout ! " 
 
 The pallor of Maud's face was suffused now 
 by a warm tint which spread even to the roots 
 of her hair. 
 
 " Surely Major Kames can get as stout as he 
 likes, Aunt Dorothy," she said. ' You talk of 
 him as if he were not a human being ! I don't 
 understand your callousness. It wouldn't make 
 the slightest difference to me if he became very 
 stout." 
 
 Having said these words, Maud glanced round 
 the room with startled eyes, as if she had heard 
 them pronounced by some one who had just 
 come in. 
 
 " My dear Maud ! " exclaimed Lady Dorothy. 
 Fancy Maud talking about other people being 
 callous ! 
 
 Stella stared up from the floor with open 
 astonishment at her sister. Broughton coughed 
 over the music. 
 
 " I don't suppose he cares now whether it 
 would make a difference. I didn't mean that," 
 said Maud, and she moved towards the door. 
 
 There was a brief, strained silence in the 
 room. Then Broughton threw down the sheets 
 of music which he was pretending to read upon 
 the piano and strode towards the door too. 
 
 " Excuse me, Aunt Dorothy," said Maud,
 
 TWO SINNERS 293 
 
 rather faintly. " I hope I haven't been rude, 
 but I am not feeling very well and I'm frightfully 
 stupid. Good night ! " 
 
 She passed Broughton with a pitiful attempt 
 to smile, and then with bowed head and drooping 
 shoulders she sped upstairs. 
 
 A year and a half ago she had hurried up 
 those same stairs her heart and brain throbbing, 
 but how different were the circumstances now ! 
 Indeed, she seemed to herself a different person. 
 
 When he had closed the door behind her, 
 Broughton went up to the two women and stood 
 looking down on Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " Gracious goodness ! " she exclaimed. " How 
 extraordinary Maud is ! " 
 
 " I can't congratulate you, dear Aunt 
 Dorothy, on your choice of a subject for after- 
 dinner speaking," he said in the same tone in 
 which he had always expostulated with her 
 about Kiddie. Lady Dorothy would not have 
 endured that tone from anybody but her nephew. 
 
 " Maud has gone too far with this nonsense 
 about never mentioning Major Kames's name 
 again. Anybody would think he was dead 
 and buried," she said with some flash of returning 
 indignation. 
 
 " I thought I ought to tell you, Aunt 
 Dorothy," began Stella again. " I was sure it 
 was the right thing to do." She nodded her 
 head two or three times at the space between 
 herself and Lady Dorothy ; the nods were 
 meant for her husband. She felt that she 
 had spoken when the time was ripe, perhaps,
 
 294 TWO SINNERS 
 
 overripe. As to George, he showed a curious 
 obstinacy at times, and was capable of being 
 really unreasonable. 
 
 During the rest of that evening Lady Dorothy 
 could speak of nothing else but Major Kames and 
 Ursula, of Major Kames' s accident and of Major 
 Kames's injured leg and particularly of the cruel 
 loss of distinction that Major Kames's figure would 
 probably suffer through lack of sufficient exercise. 
 She refrained, however, from referring again 
 directly to Maud ; she was a little afraid of her 
 nephew's reproof ; but her thoughts kept on 
 flitting back and back again to Maud's astonishing 
 announcement that it would make no difference 
 to her if Major Kames became very stout. 
 
 No woman in her senses could go on admiring 
 a man as much if he were getting very stout ; 
 it wasn't in human nature to do so ; and Maud 
 had not admired him when he was, comparatively 
 speaking, thin. 
 
 Had she, when it was too late, when only 
 memories of him were left to her, fallen in love 
 with Maj or Kames ? 
 
 The old lady longed to find out what Maud 
 really meant, if, indeed, Maud knew what she 
 meant herself. 
 
 " I had hoped that Maud would come down 
 again," she said as she rose with obvious 
 alacrity at Stella's first movement to say good-bye. 
 
 " I expect she's gone to bed," said Stella ; 
 " she said she wasn't feeling well." 
 
 ' Yes, to be sure, she said she was not 
 well," said Lady Dorothy, and she tried to look
 
 unconscious of her nephew's glance. Was Maud 
 really in love with Major Kames ? Or was she, 
 perhaps, merely a little sorry for him now he 
 was hurt ? 
 
 " I must take up some phenacetin to her," 
 she said decidedly. ' Well, then, Stella, I 
 shall write to Major Kames at once and say how 
 grateful we all are for his past kindness to poor 
 Ursula when Maud and I were away trying to 
 recruit." 
 
 Lady Dorothy uttered the last words with a 
 touch of pathos, suddenly remembering all the 
 sad, sad tragedy of Kiddie, and how Piccanoonoo 
 (whom she held in her arms at that moment) 
 could never, never take his place ; though it 
 was indeed through no fault of his own, poor 
 mite ; he could not help being born contented 
 and gentle, it was not his little fault. 
 
 " Yes, please, say all that is proper in the 
 nicest words," said Stella. 
 
 " Of course I can't ask him to the house," 
 said Lady Dorothy ; " that would be quite 
 impossible and I suppose he will often be in 
 town now when Parliament is sitting," and she 
 sighed deeply. 
 
 " You can't ask him, of course, unless " 
 
 and here Stella's blue eyes shone like two polished 
 turquoises and her dimples seemed actually to 
 twinkle in her cheeks. 
 
 " Unless what ? " demanded her aunt eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Stella, going to 
 the door ; " George will be cross if I say anything 
 about it. But at least, Aunt Dorothy," she
 
 296 TWO SINNERS 
 
 added, turning round at the door and waving 
 her good-bye, " I arn glad I spoke ; I thought 
 it my duty to tell you. I am so glad I was 
 right." 
 
 As soon as Lady Dorothy had heard the front 
 door closie, she put Noonoo into his basket at 
 the side of the fire and besought him to remain 
 there patiently for a few minutes while she went 
 up to see " poor Auntie Maudie." 
 
 Then the old lady went upstairs with great 
 dignity, making little coughs as she ascended. 
 She went into her own bedroom for a moment 
 and looked for her bottle of phenacetin. Having 
 found it, she went up another flight to Maud's 
 room. What a climb it was ! She waited to 
 get her breath back ; then she knocked gently 
 at her niece's door. 
 
 At first there came no reply, but in answer to 
 a second knock Maud's voice demanded : " Who 
 is it ? " 
 
 " Aunt Dorothy," said the old lady rather 
 meekly. One of the most embarrassing things 
 in the world is to answer quite simply the 
 question : " Who are you ? " 
 
 Maud's voice answered, " Come in ! " 
 
 Lady Dorothy opened the door and went in. 
 Maud was lying in bed propped up by pillows, 
 reading by the light at the head of her bed. 
 
 " How is the headache ? " asked her aunt, 
 with an attempt at cheerfulness. 
 
 Maud's pale brown hair falling about her 
 shoulders in two long massive plaits gave her 
 almost the air of a sad, naughty child. Her
 
 TWO SINNERS 297 
 
 brown eyes looked heavy ; her lips were a trifle 
 swollen. 
 
 " I have no headache, Aunt Dorothy," she 
 said. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Lady Dorothy, " then you don't 
 want any of my phenacetin ? " 
 
 " No, thanks," said Maud ; " I don't need 
 any." 
 
 ' You mustn't mind your old aunt scolding 
 you," said Lady Dorothy blandly. " You must 
 remember, Maud, that it was a great shock to 
 me to find that everybody knew all about Major 
 Kames but myself." 
 
 " I am so sorry you were vexed," said Maud. 
 
 Lady Dorothy moved to Maud's easy-chair 
 and sat down. " I was very cross, my dear," 
 she said briefly. Then she turned her face to 
 the bed and blinked hard at Maud. The question 
 that had been tormenting her all the evening 
 was on her lips ; she could keep it back no 
 longer. 
 
 " Are you in earnest, Maud ? I mean about 
 Major Kames." It seemed somehow like aiming 
 a pistol shot at Maud. Would Maud fall down 
 on her pillow and collapse ? 
 
 " Yes," said Maud quietly, and she did not 
 collapse. 
 
 " You really are ? " exclaimed Lady Dorothy. 
 " I mean, do you actually want him to well, to 
 speak plainly to propose again ? That's what 
 I mean." 
 
 " I understand," said Maud as quietly as 
 before.
 
 298 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " And you don't think that if you saw him 
 leaning on a stick, you know and getting 
 stout you would run away as you did before 
 when he had a really good figure ? " 
 
 Maud coloured and shook her head. 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed Lady Dorothy, " I am 
 amazed ! But what's to be done I'm sure I 
 don't know." And she waited for further 
 enlightenment. 
 
 " Nothing can be done ! " replied Maud 
 simply. 
 
 " Nothing ! Why not ? " exclaimed her aunt, 
 who had expected to hear Maud suggest some 
 plan that she would consider unsuitable. But 
 Maud seemed to have no plan and the old lady 
 looked disappointed. 
 
 " I don't deserve to have him now," said 
 Maud. 
 
 " Deserve, child ! What has that got to do 
 with it ? " exclaimed her aunt. How extra- 
 ordinarily unpractical it was of Maud to talk 
 like this. 
 
 " I don't suppose he would trust me again." 
 said Maud, closing the book that she had till 
 now kept open with one finger. 
 
 " Fiddlesticks about trust ! " said Lady 
 Dorothy. " The only question is whether he is 
 still in love with you. If he isn't, it's off ; if he 
 is, it's on again." 
 
 Maud winced at this way of putting it ; it 
 was put as if neither she nor Major Kames were 
 moral beings. 
 
 " I have given my promise, Aunt Dorothy,
 
 TWO SINNERS 299 
 
 to be guided in the matter by Father Fitzherbert," 
 said Maud, bracing herself up for the coming 
 storm. 
 
 " And who, in the name of wonder, is Father 
 Fitzherbert ? " demanded the old lady. The 
 title " Father " had escaped her notice before, 
 but now that she was calmer she noticed it and 
 it offended her Protestant ears ; also this avowal 
 of Maud's roused her suddenly to j ealousy. What 
 right had any Fitzherberts to usurp her position 
 as patroness of Maud and Maud's affairs ? 
 
 '' Father Fitzherbert knew Ursula," explained 
 Maud, " and he knows Lionel and me." 
 
 " One of the men Ursula used to confess to ! " 
 said Lady Dorothy. " And so Major Kames 
 confesses ! Well, I should have thought he 
 was too sensible a man to do anything so weak- 
 minded." 
 
 Maud did not reply ; indeed, Lady Dorothy 
 did not expect a reply. She was accustomed to 
 make statements of a contentious kind when 
 she was annoyed, statements that she suspected 
 were not necessarily true, which were even 
 probably false but which relieved the tension 
 of her nerves. 
 
 " I have just written to Father Fitzherbert," 
 said Maud, in a low voice, as if it cost her a 
 good deal to speak, " to tell him what I feel about 
 Lionel." 
 
 " You have ? " burst out Lady Dorothy. 
 " To this Fitzherbert ? " 
 
 " I want him to know," said Maud slowly ; 
 " but nothing will come of it, Aunt Dorothy."
 
 300 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " I should think nothing would come of it," 
 exclaimed the old lady, " if you put it into the 
 hands of a priest ! Their one idea is to prevent 
 marriage. If they had their own way no one 
 would bring children into the world but the 
 riffraff at the very bottom, and a fine state of 
 things that would bring about ! I have no 
 patience with them ! Is the letter posted ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Maud. 
 
 Lady Dorothy turned and looked into the 
 fire. 
 
 " And what do you think he is going to do 
 now that he knows that you want to marry 
 Major Kames ? " 
 
 She spoke with obvious jealousy. 
 
 " I don't know," said Maud. 
 
 " And don't care ! " said Lady Dorothy, full 
 of vexation. " Maud, you're the most sensible 
 woman in the world except where your own 
 happiness is concerned." 
 
 " Father Fitzherbert will do whatever is best 
 for Lionel and me," said Maud. " Dear Aunt 
 Dorothy, I have reason to trust him." 
 
 " Oh, you think so ! " said her aunt. " Well, 
 I should doubt that. You must remember 
 that it is a year and a half since you broke off 
 the engagement. You don't know what has 
 happened since, especially if he has been ill. 
 Why, at this moment some little calculating 
 nurse may have been making him promise to 
 marry her. Would you like that to happen ? " 
 
 Maud did not answer. 
 
 Lady Dorothy got up from her chair, " My
 
 TWO SINNERS 301 
 
 dear, I quite forgot that I promised Noonoo 
 faithfully that I would come back to him in a 
 few minutes, and as you know, promises made 
 to a dumb animal are like debts of honour. I 
 really must go." 
 
 Lady Dorothy had also obtained the informa- 
 tion she had desired. It was information of a 
 most upsetting kind that touched the affairs of 
 No. 2, Brown Street. It needed much thought. 
 She came near to the bed, bent over to kiss her 
 niece, and then looked at her narrowly as if 
 she was a new acquaintance. 
 
 ' I am going to write to Major Kames at 
 once," she said quietly, " and I shall ask him 
 to let me know how he is. I shall do that 
 much." 
 
 Maud put her arms round her aunt's neck, but 
 she made no remark. 
 
 " Is this Fitzherbert," asked Lady Dorothy, 
 " one of the Fitzherberts of Adingley ? " 
 
 " I think so," said Maud, but she spoke as if 
 she scarcely heard. 
 
 Lady Dorothy walked to the door with a 
 slight sniff of satisfaction. " They're all a little 
 mad," she said. It was certainly a positive 
 proof of madness in any individual that he should 
 at this time of day dress himself in a cloak and 
 go about calling himself " Father." 
 
 Lady Dorothy went downstairs into the 
 drawing-room slowly and thoughtfully. Sup- 
 pose, after all, Maud was to marry Major Kames 
 and go away and live at Orpenden ? Would 
 this empty drawing-room be so very desolate ?
 
 302 TWO SINNERS 
 
 A year ago Lady Dorothy would have thought 
 so, but into her life had crept once more a con- 
 genial companionship ; she was not alone. 
 Piccanoonoo was waiting for her in his basket. 
 Not, it is true, with those piercing shrieks of 
 impatience that she had loved so dearly and 
 which were silenced for ever, but a little rogue 
 lay there banging his tail on the side of the basket 
 and staring at her with his large goggle eyes, 
 full of satisfaction at her return. No, the 
 drawing-room was not lonely after all, and then 
 there would come frequent invitations to 
 Orpenden ; there would be delightful short 
 visits to break the monotony of winter and 
 spring. People had never been eager to have 
 darling Kiddie as their guest ; they did not 
 understand his nature ; he was what is called 
 " vital." Lady Dorothy loved him for being 
 " vital." It was Ursula's lack of being " vital " 
 as well as her lack of youth and beauty that had 
 made Lady Dorothy indifferent to her. 
 
 Lady Dorothy loved so she thought the 
 agitating and alluring qualities of a rich, heady 
 personality. She was attracted so she thought 
 by dear, warm, natural human nature with 
 its lovable spice of wickedness. She would 
 not, of course, have put up with any rich headi- 
 ness in her butler or her housemaid or in any 
 person whom she employed. Any such wealth 
 in Mrs. Jackson's personality would have been 
 inconvenient and if she had reason to suppose 
 that her family solicitors had any lovable spice 
 of wickedness in their nature she would have
 
 TWO SINNERS 303 
 
 removed her affairs to the care of another firm ; 
 but that as people say is different. 
 
 Now Kiddie's successor was not " vital," 
 and yet he was already popular. Lady Dorothy 
 could fancy herself writing off notes to Maud 
 at Orpenden, saying this sort of thing : 
 
 "So many thanks yes, of course then 
 please expect us to-morrow about four o'clock.'* 
 
 However agreeable these anticipations were, 
 the immediate question was, would anything 
 at all come of Maud's change of mind ? 
 
 Lady Dorothy went into the writing-room 
 and sat down at her table. She began writing, 
 and had any one been in the room they would 
 have seen her lips gradually shape themselves 
 into an affable smile. She was smiling as if she 
 was actually addressing her correspondent in 
 the flesh ; she found it easy to write, the words 
 flowed from her pen without conscious effort. 
 If only if only she could ask him to come and 
 see her as soon as he was well enough, or if only 
 she could propose to go and call on him at 
 Orpenden ! She felt a strong conviction that 
 if she could actually see him she could bring 
 about " a happy conclusion." And how much 
 she would enjoy seeing him again ! Now, if 
 she had been a girl engaged to a charming man 
 like Major Kames, nothing in the wide world 
 would have made her break the engagement 
 oft and risk losing him for ever !
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 MEANWHILE, upstairs, Maud lay back on her 
 pillows. A book that she had been holding in 
 her hand had fallen upon the floor ; the lights 
 were still burning. She had forgotten every- 
 thing but that sinister remark of Lady Dorothy's 
 that some other woman might at this moment 
 be standing between herself and the man she 
 had at last learned to love. Time was passing 
 quickly ; who knew what might not have 
 happened to Lionel Kames what was actually 
 happening ? A sick man is so much at the mercy 
 of his surroundings ! 
 
 " Nothing would come of it," she had said to 
 Lady Dorothy, nothing would come of her con- 
 fession to Father Fitzherbert that she had learned 
 to love Lionel Kames ; and yet as she lay there 
 motionless, her eyes fixed mechanically before 
 her, Maud knew that she had said those words 
 only in self-defence in order to force herself to 
 face a future that she dreaded. Deep down in 
 her mind she hoped with a desperate energy 
 that her words would prove false and that 
 something would come of it ! 
 
 That February afternoon, a year and a half 
 ago, when she came by such a strange chance 
 upon Fitzherbert and he asked her if she was 
 strong enough and tender enough to " pretend "
 
 TWO SINNERS 305 
 
 to love the man she was engaged to marry 
 that afternoon seemed to her now to be a strange, 
 unaccountable dream. On that night when 
 the last sad intimate writing of Ursula's had 
 stirred in Maud's heart such passionate emotion 
 that the raging of the storm outside was unheard 
 and forgotten, on that night a dormant element 
 in Maud's nature had come to life : the power 
 of pity, and with it new thoughts about the man 
 she had rejected and a new conception of the 
 relations of human beings to one another, a new 
 standard of duty and of mutual forbearance. 
 As the days accumulated this conception had 
 grown in strength, Ursula's trust in Lionel 
 became her own, Ursula's sympathy for him 
 became hers ; she lived over and over again 
 their relationship with each other until she was 
 seized with a desperate hunger for something 
 more than the creation of her own mind, a 
 synthesis of memories ; she was seized with a 
 desperate hunger for his actual presence. 
 
 Her letter to Fitzherbert had gone that night 
 and he would get it in the morning if he were in 
 town. She would try to wait till Tuesday 
 morning, and if no letter came then she would 
 wire and implore him for an answer. She looked 
 at her watch ; it was eleven o'clock. It would 
 be just possible for her to hear by lunch-time 
 to-morrow fifteen hours ! Or she might hear 
 after dinner at nine o'clock twenty-two hours ! 
 If she did not hear before the first post on 
 Tuesday she would have to wait thirty-three 
 hours ! That would be the limit of her
 
 306 TWO SINNERS 
 
 endurance. She had waited for many days 
 patiently, and now even hours had become 
 intolerable. 
 
 Even suppose that Fitzherbert answered 
 her letter promptly, he might not propose to 
 help her in any way. Although she deserved 
 no help she was certain that he would help her. 
 She had no fear of it ; her fear was that he might 
 be away on some fresh mission and that the 
 letter would not reach him immediately, or 
 when it did reach him it might arrive at a moment 
 when he was busy. Above all, what she chiefly 
 feared was that the whole matter might have 
 been taken out of Fitzherbert's hands by Lionel 
 himself and that Lionel at that very moment, 
 believing her to have forgotten him, might be 
 pledging his future to another woman. That 
 thought made Maud sick at heart. 
 
 Should she wire to Lionel to-morrow morn- 
 ing ? Wire what ? Wire that she had made him 
 wait for nearly two years, but that she could not 
 wait for thirty-three hours ! 
 
 Apart from her promise to Fitzherbert, which 
 must be kept, the idea of thrusting herself upon 
 Lionel before she had some proof that he would 
 remember her was repulsive. Fitzherbert was 
 right in telling her to put the matter into his 
 hands if only the hours would pass ! 
 
 She must try to sleep, because every hour 
 that she lay awake only prolonged her misery. 
 She put out the light and lay down. 
 
 Maud lay with eyes fast shut and a prayer 
 upon her lips, shutting the portals of her spirit
 
 TWO SINNERS 307 
 
 against the ominous Powers of the Night, and 
 soon after the great bell that watches over the 
 sleeping city had struck one, she fell into a sleep 
 without dreams. 
 
 The next morning she awoke with the con- 
 sciousness that at least one night had been put 
 behind her. She ought to be thankful for that. 
 A letter might come before nightfall. It is 
 easier to be patient in broad daylight ; so much 
 may happen while the sun travels slowly 
 westward. 
 
 Lady Dorothy scanned her face narrowly 
 when she came downstairs to breakfast. 
 
 " No letter from Mr. Fitzherbert ? " she 
 said. 
 
 The remark was so preposterous that Maud, 
 depressed as she was, laughed aloud. 
 
 " He will have only just got my letter, Aunt 
 Dorothy," she said. 
 
 ''' Humph ! " said the elder lady, as if, never- 
 theless, he would and could have received the 
 letter and replied simultaneously had he not 
 been going about dressed in a cloak and calling 
 himself " Father." 
 
 All that day neither of the two women thought 
 of anything else but the letter that did not 
 come. 
 
 Yesterday Maud would have shrunk pain- 
 fully from hearing the name of Lionel Kames 
 pronounced aloud by any one ; but now it was 
 a relief to her to know that Lady Dorothy shared 
 her secret and was waiting, too, to know what 
 the future would bring.
 
 308 TWO SINNERS 
 
 When letters were brought in at lunch there 
 was no letter addressed in Fitzherbert's hand. 
 
 " Humph ! " said Lady Dorothy again. 
 
 Maud smiled a little. " I must wait," she 
 said, and sighed. 
 
 After dinner the same thing happened no 
 letter ! 
 
 How slowly the hours crept along ! They 
 were at the threshold of another night. This 
 would be the last night. Maud went upstairs 
 to her room with a fixed determination to wait 
 no longer than the morning. If no letter came 
 then, she would wire to Fitzherbert for instruc- 
 tions. Could it be possible that he was still 
 distrustful of her, was afraid that what she loved 
 was an idealised portrait, painted by the glamour 
 of her own fancy, and that when brought face 
 to face with the real Lionel Kames she would 
 shrink from the actual personality of the living 
 man, a man seamed with the experience of half 
 a lifetime trying to retrieve wasted time ; 
 generous, but faulty ? 
 
 Were these Fitzherbert's thoughts about her 
 or had he guessed the change that had taken 
 place in her ? In the old days she could admire 
 or despise passionately ; pity she did not feel. 
 She felt it now pity that is born of the con- 
 sciousness of the tragedy of all human life, of 
 the community of grief. 
 
 It was this pity that had engendered love, 
 and it had grown little by little until it had 
 gathered to a torrent late in the girl's life 
 just as her youth was passing. Was it too late ?
 
 TWO SINNERS 309 
 
 The second night passed away and the 
 morning came. The maid brought letters to 
 Maud's bedside, but among them was still no 
 letter from Fitzherbert. Maud took paper and 
 pencil, and sitting up in her bed she began to 
 compose a message. While she was writing a 
 knock came at her bedroom door ; it opened 
 and her Aunt Dorothy came in. The cord of the 
 old lady's eye-glasses was hanging loose, and 
 her dressing-gown had been thrown hastily over 
 her. She had a letter in her hand. Maud could 
 tell by her face that Lionel had written it. 
 
 " A letter from Lionel ! " she exclaimed, 
 and Lady Dorothy came straight to Maud's 
 bed. Maud could see the large handwriting 
 which she had in old days despised because it 
 did not look scholarly. Her hand shook as she 
 took the letter ; it was like a letter from some 
 dear one whom she had thought dead. She 
 opened it and tried to read it. Tears ran down 
 her cheeks, blotting out the words and making 
 them unreadable. 
 
 " I am afraid I can't read it," she said ; " not 
 just now ! " 
 
 Lady Dorothy was much surprised and 
 disconcerted. 
 
 ' Why, my dear, you are upset," she said. 
 " Well, it's a charming letter, full of tender 
 remembrance of Ursula and gratitude for our 
 gratitude. Read it some other time. Keep it ! " 
 
 The old lady nodded her head once or twice 
 patronisingly, and then she turned away and 
 went to the door, refraining from the remark,
 
 310 TWO SINNERS 
 
 " No letter from Mr. Fitzherbert," which she 
 had intended to make, in order to drive home 
 the truth of that clerical person's incompetence 
 in affairs of the heart. For a long time Maud 
 found herself unable to think connectedly. 
 When she could think she sat up and looked at 
 the telegram form on which she had begun to 
 write. It was on the table by her bed. Only 
 her name was needed to complete it. She wrote 
 her name, and then a sudden and unaccountable 
 impulse took strong possession of her and she 
 took up the paper and tore it into small pieces. 
 Then she read that letter once, twice, many 
 times. 
 
 All that morning she felt as if she was living 
 in a dream. She went out into the morning air, 
 walking along by her aunt's side, quiescent and 
 almost without thoughts like one hypnotised, 
 and she was strangely calm in her mind ; her 
 anxiety seemed suddenly to have left her. She 
 was waiting without impatience and without 
 fear. 
 
 Lady Dorothy was surprisingly sympathetic 
 and asked her no questions. When at lunch- 
 time no letters at all were brought in, she said 
 nothing ; she did not even mention Fitzherbert' s 
 name. 
 
 After lunch, Maud went for a drive, taking 
 Noonoo with her. Kames's letter was tucked into 
 her dress. The day was slipping away and yet 
 Maud was doing nothing. She was possessed 
 with this strong impression that the future 
 had shaped itself independently of her thoughts
 
 TWO SINNERS 311 
 
 and that she need do nothing ; in fact, that there 
 was nothing for her to do. So calm and resigned 
 was she that when she returned to the house she 
 even noted the presence of a cat seated on the 
 stucco pillar of the gate. At the sight of Noonoo 
 it turned and twisted away among the palings. 
 Maud called to it with all the persuasiveness she 
 knew, and finally it relaxed so far as to consent 
 to return, Noonoo being obviously harmless. 
 It again seated itself upon the pillar, and there 
 it sat pretending to have lost all consciousness 
 of her presence. When she called to it, it merely 
 stretched its chin high in the air and looked 
 keenly across the street pretending to see some- 
 thing of importance, affecting the air of a person 
 who wishes to remain exclusive without being 
 actually rude. 
 
 Maud went up the steps and let herself into 
 the house with her latchkey. She found Jackson 
 in the hall carrying the tray up for tea earlier 
 than usual. 
 
 He turned round and spoke to her. 
 
 " Her ladyship told me to tell you, Miss," 
 he said, " that she is in the writing-room with 
 Mr. Fitzherbert." 
 
 " With whom ? " she asked. 
 
 " With Mr. Fitzherbert." 
 
 This, then, was the end. This was what she 
 had been waiting for. 
 
 Maud went upstairs and walked into the 
 drawing-room. It was empty. She could hear 
 her aunt's voice in the next room. She must 
 have heard her come, for the door opened between
 
 312 TWO SINNERS 
 
 the rooms and Lady Dorothy came out, her 
 cheeks rather flushed, and behind her came a tall 
 figure which Maud had learned to associate 
 with what was most important in her life. He 
 smiled when their eyes met. All was well. 
 Maud felt sure of it ; the certainty of it suffused 
 her whole frame with warmth. 
 
 ' Father Fitzherbert and I have arranged it," 
 said Lady Dorothy, speaking his name as if he 
 had long been her most intimate friend. " He 
 is going to take us over to-morrow to Orpenden 
 to see our dear invalid, Major Kames. Well, 
 Maud, what do you say ? " 
 
 Maud said nothing but an almost whispered 
 " Thanks." She took Fitzherbert's hand and 
 leaned upon it for a moment, her eyes downcast 
 and a slight tremble on her lips that he alone 
 noticed. In another moment Maud had re- 
 covered her composure. 
 
 " I am so glad," she said, " I am so glad, 
 Aunt Dorothy ! " 
 
 " I should think so," said that lady. ' I 
 can't imagine anybody not being glad at the 
 prospect of seeing Major Kames, such a charming 
 man ! " 
 
 To her excited imagination it seemed as if 
 there could be no further obstacle to Maud's 
 marriage with Major Kames. In fact, it seemed 
 as if the whole dismal episode of Major Kames' s 
 disappearance had never been and they had 
 slipped back to eighteen months ago, except 
 for the sad fact that Major Kames was a little 
 lame and therefore threatened with stoutness.
 
 A SLIGHT shower of snow had fallen during the 
 night, the first snow of the coming winter, snow 
 that lay thin and loose and white and sparkling 
 upon the road and footways and was melted 
 and sucked into the glistening soil before noon. 
 The air was clear, still and sharp. Above the 
 roofs of the houses and the London streets thin 
 fleecy clouds could be seen passing hurriedly 
 to the north-west, as if flying before the fiery 
 strides of the sun as he climbed up his slanting 
 pathway across the December sky. 
 
 A landaulette had started from No. 2, Brown 
 Street, and was speeding through the dreary 
 monotony of the southern London suburbs out 
 on to a high road in Surrey towards Orpenden. 
 It was so fine that even Lady Dorothy did not 
 oppose Maud's suggestion that the carriage 
 should be opened. Fitzherbert was strongly 
 of opinion too that it ought to be open, and he 
 seated himself opposite the two ladies, with 
 the sunshine broadly exposing the shabbiness of 
 his black brimmed hat and the traces of age 
 and hard wear that were visible down the front 
 of his black cloak. Maud longed to tidy those 
 buttons that seemed on the point of " giving 
 up " from lack of physical strength with which
 
 314 TWO SINNERS 
 
 to stand the strain of a religious life ; one button 
 actually dangled from the frayed skeleton of 
 what had once been a stout and useful neck. 
 
 Maud wanted to put out her hand and 
 twist off that button and put it into her muff 
 for future restoration to its proper place. But 
 instead of this active ministration she was com- 
 pelled to sit back in her seat and do nothing 
 but listen idly to the talk that went on between 
 her Aunt Dorothy and Fitzherbert about persons 
 with whom they were mutually acquainted. 
 Strangely enough, Maud felt that of her two 
 companions not Lady Dorothy, who presumably 
 had " loved and lost " (once at least), but 
 Fitzherbert, who had possibly never loved at 
 all, understood her silence and her preoccupation. 
 Had he never loved at all ? 
 
 She glanced across at him wonderingly and 
 met his eyes looking at her with that mixture 
 of humour and intensity of purpose that was the 
 dominant feature of a very striking personality. 
 She felt herself reddening a little under his gaze 
 and she turned away and looked at the houses 
 which they were swiftly passing. The traffic 
 was gradually being left behind ; the roads 
 were becoming more suburban. Presently they 
 were among villas and gardens with leafless trees 
 and the dingy hedges of the populous part of 
 Surrey. 
 
 They turned into what looked like a main 
 road and came out on to a battered common 
 tarnished with its proximity to London. They 
 passed it and were among villas again. At
 
 TWO SINNERS 315 
 
 last they were in the actual country. Here 
 was a thatched cottage and here unspoiled 
 meadows in which cattle were eating some 
 scattered roots. The air was purer and lighter. 
 
 She found herself glancing from side to side 
 keenly and leaning forward as she did so. 
 Then, conscious that her movements betrayed 
 excitement, she sank back again into her corner. 
 On they went ! 
 
 The brown hedges were speckled over with 
 a myriad prismatic drops of water ; the ground 
 under their wheels was light and moist. There 
 was a smell of wild herbs that had ripened and 
 were dissolving into their elements again through 
 the agency of night frosts, of damp, and of 
 winter sunshine. In a short time they would be 
 at Orpenden. Maud felt a great stirring at 
 her heart and her pulses beat rapidly. On they 
 went ! How would she bear it when they 
 actually came to the gates of Orpenden ? They 
 sped on for a mile or so and then took a turn 
 westwards. Was this the road, or this ? No, 
 not this gate ; there was no archway over it ! 
 Still they went on, but southwards now with the 
 noonday sun straight in their eyes. Now, this 
 was the road ! It looked like it ! The car 
 began to slacken its pace and then it blew its 
 warning, rounded suddenly and went under 
 a grey archway on each side of which was a stone 
 ball, grey with the weather. Here was the 
 long chestnut avenue ! The trees had lost their 
 golden harvest, but they stood there warm and 
 brown, trusty guardians of the memory of
 
 316 TWO SINNERS 
 
 summer. Some rooks cawed overhead. Maud 
 felt her face stinging and her hands cold. Lady 
 Dorothy was stretching her neck to see the 
 house. There it was with its mullioned windows 
 and grey chimney-stacks, from which thin blue 
 smoke went up into the cloudless sky. 
 
 The car drew up before the great shallow 
 sweep of steps. The front doors stood wide 
 open, just as they had stood open eighteen 
 months ago, only then Ursula was here and she 
 passed through them first. Oh that she were 
 here now ! 
 
 Fitzherbert got out. Lady Dorothy made 
 no sign of moving. Maud glanced from one to 
 the other nervously. 
 
 " Lady Dorothy is going on with me to see 
 the church," he said ; " we shall be back by 
 lunch," and he held out his hand to Maud. 
 That hand held to her gave her a sudden con- 
 fidence. She stepped out silently and then stood 
 looking back at her aunt. She understood that 
 this was a concerted plan. She was to go in 
 alone ! 
 
 " Au revoir!" called out Lady Dorothy 
 in a dismissive voice, while she pretended to be 
 much occupied in rearranging the rugs. " Au 
 revoir, my dear ! " 
 
 Fitzherbert had dropped Maud's hand. She 
 was alone, walking up the steps, he following. 
 All her fears returned upon her. How could 
 she enter those doors alone ? 
 
 " What are you afraid of ? " he questioned, 
 at her side now, and touching the bell.
 
 TWO SINNERS 317 
 
 " I am afraid of everything," she said, 
 " because I care too much I suppose." 
 
 1 You can't care too much in the right 
 way," he replied. 
 
 A man opened the inner doors, and Fitz- 
 herbert led her into the great panelled hall. 
 There were the stained windows lit up by the 
 sun and throwing fine fans of colour across the 
 staircase ; there were the portraits looking out 
 silently. A great fire burned on the hearth. 
 Maud scarcely knew what she did. She felt 
 herself being helped off with her thick coat. 
 What was to come next ? She waited for 
 Fitzherbert's voice, her will simply following 
 his. 
 
 " Take off your veil and gloves," he said. 
 She glanced up at him and obeyed. She heard 
 him dismissing the servant, telling the man that 
 he would take Miss Monckton to the library 
 himself. Perhaps it was the white look in her 
 face, as she stood waiting for a sign from him, 
 that made him lay his hand on her arm as he 
 guided her towards the library door. Was 
 Lionel in there ? If her heart went on beating 
 like this, she would not be able to speak to him ; 
 her voice would be gone. 
 
 " He is downstairs now, but still on a couch," 
 Fitzherbert said in a low voice. " Don't be 
 frightened, child ! " 
 
 Maud bent her head and made no answer. 
 
 He led her across the floor. 
 
 " Leave no room in your heart for fear or for 
 self-pity," he said, still in a low voice. " The
 
 318 TWO SINNERS 
 
 modern world is so tender-hearted of itself that 
 it would re- write the parable of the ten talents 
 and make it end differently." 
 
 She looked up into the face that was bent 
 towards her. 
 
 He went on speaking. ;< The modern world 
 would insist that the man who refused to work 
 and hid his talent should not be punished but 
 should be forgiven and pitied. But that is 
 not the way to view life if you want to ' know 
 what is true and make what is beautiful.' The 
 Master of the World does demand a harvest 
 which we have ourselves to sow and reap in the 
 sweat of our labour, so be strong, be strong ! " 
 
 The library door was already open and 
 before Maud knew what was happening Fitz- 
 herbert had left her side and was gone. 
 
 There was sunshine too in the windows of 
 the library chequered by the shadows of the 
 mullions. Across a great space over which she 
 had to tread was a couch on which half lay, 
 half sat, Major Kames. Around him were 
 scattered books and papers. 
 
 His face had paled somewhat from its usual 
 healthy tan and it was turned towards her. 
 He was the same man and yet not the same ; 
 the face of this man she loved. 
 
 The door was closed behind her and they 
 were alone. 
 
 She moved towards the couch. " I have 
 come to thank you," she said in a trembling 
 voice, her eyes lowered as she walked. " Don't 
 try to move ! "
 
 TWO SINNERS 319 
 
 He sat silent, leaning forward towards her, 
 his hands grasping the rug that lay across his 
 knees. She came up to him, feeling more than 
 seeing that his features were set and that the 
 pulses in his temples throbbed. She knelt 
 down by the couch and took the hand that lay 
 on the rug nearest to her. She put it against 
 her cheek. Then she pulled it gently down till 
 it rested over her heart, and there she held it 
 with both her hands pressed over it as if she 
 were a mother clasping some babe long lost and 
 restored at last. 
 
 Moments slipped by the most precious, 
 perhaps, in their lives moments of profound 
 peace and silence. 
 
 " Maud," he said at last, trying to speak 
 calmly, " don't pity me too much ! I don't 
 deserve it. I have lived for forty years and 
 have nothing to show for it but one or two grey 
 hairs, and now I am lame ! " 
 
 Not a word of reproach, of distrust ; no 
 demand for himself, not even a word of forgive- 
 ness which might have implied that there was 
 something to be forgiven ; only an apology, 
 self-accusation and humility. 
 
 She made no answer, but she slid one of her 
 arms over him and laid her face against him, 
 weeping verj softly from pure joy. 
 
 It was a long time before they could articulate 
 any words, except each other's names, uttered 
 over and over again. 
 
 When Maud could speak coherently she 
 whispered : " Try not to mind being lame ! "
 
 320 TWO SINNERS 
 
 and then she raised herself and sitting on the 
 edge of his couch, she held both his hands. 
 
 " I mind for your sake," said Kames. " I'm 
 ashamed of your having a lame brute of a 
 husband ! " 
 
 " I don't mind it," urged Maud. " In fact, 
 dear, I prefer it." 
 
 " Prefer it ! " exclaimed Kames, half laugh- 
 ing, but with a moisture in his eyes that he could 
 not hide. 
 
 " I prefer it," said Maud, " because because 
 you can't run away from me." 
 
 " A man could be faithful to you, my dear," 
 he said pressing both her hands, " without 
 needing to bash his leg to help him." 
 
 " Well, but," said Maud, " now that you've 
 done it, it may be useful," and her lips and eyes 
 broke away from tears to the subdued laughter 
 of great happiness. Then she suddenly became 
 silent. His happiness was so new, it was so 
 rare and strange to have her love, that it seemed 
 to him as if it might slip away and leave him 
 as suddenly as it came. 
 
 ' What is it? " he asked. " What is it, Maud 1 
 
 The anxiety in his face pained her. 
 
 " You were injured in going to see Ursula," 
 she said. :< You were doing what I ought to 
 have been doing. I have always been selfish, 
 even towards Ursula ; how can you trust me, 
 dear, how can you ? ' 
 
 He was going to protest, but she would not 
 let him speak. " I only come to you, now, 
 Lionel, because I want to."
 
 TWO SINNERS 321 
 
 He pulled her nearer to him. 
 
 " Yes, but," she said, resisting, " it would 
 be more unselfish if I came to you not because 
 I loved you but because I was strong enough 
 and tender enough to pretend that I did." 
 
 '' That would be jolly hard on both of us," 
 he said. 
 
 " You wouldn't know, dearest," said Maud, 
 still troubled and still resisting. 
 
 " I should know," was his answer, and they 
 looked at each other long and silently. 
 
 ' There was a time," said Kames, in a low 
 voice and very slowly for him, " when I would 
 have had you, Maud, at any price, but I feel 
 differently now. Now that I know what you 
 can be to me nothing short of that would satisfy 
 me and that's the truth." 
 
 That was the truth ! Why argue further ? 
 And yet that was not her point ; Tier point 
 
 was But after all, Fitzherbert did not mean 
 
 that it was more blessed not to love but that 
 it was not wholly cursed if you could behave as 
 if you loved. 
 
 " The worst of it is," said Maud, pulling 
 away her hands very gently and rising from the 
 couch, "that I can't help it now. When we 
 were engaged I was too stupid to understand 
 you. I only came to understand you when I 
 discovered all you had done for Ursula, what 
 you had been to her. She kept a diary I 
 read it that dreadful night when I came to her 
 too late ! She had just passed away," and Maud 
 moved to the window quietly and spoke with 
 
 Y
 
 322 TWO SINNERS 
 
 all the self-control she could command. " You 
 ought to have been there, you who watched 
 over her all those last weeks of her lonely life. 
 I ought to have been with her I ought to have 
 known she was ill. I didn't know because she 
 spared me, and she spared me because she knew 
 I dreaded loneliness and poverty. All my 
 proud talk to you was humbug and conceit, 
 Lionel. I loved nobody and I wanted money. 
 I wanted to run away from her, from duty. 
 Suppose you had been killed that day you had 
 the accident ? " She turned away from the 
 window and came back slowly to his couch. 
 " I should have lost all that I have learned at 
 last to love Ursula and you and there would 
 have been nothing left for me but the saddest 
 memory a human being can have : the memory 
 of things priceless that were neglected till it 
 was too late." 
 
 No word that he could have said would have 
 been so great a punishment as the expression 
 in his face of incredulity struggling with surprise, 
 pain, and great pity. 
 
 ' You loved Ursula ! " he said in a low voice, 
 tentative and yet insistent. 
 
 " Not properly." Maud spoke out bravely. 
 If she forfeited all that now remained in the 
 world that stood between her and disaster, 
 then she must forfeit it. She must speak the 
 truth. 
 
 " Lionel, you have a right to send me away 
 I've been a humbug " 
 
 His eyes, those large, bold, brown eyes,
 
 TWO SINNERS 323 
 
 wandered round the room mechanically as the 
 eyes may of a man suddenly awakened from 
 slumber ; then he rested them upon her face. 
 She stood, looking down at him, tall and beautiful 
 and tender ; but bowed with humility, despising 
 herself. 
 
 " Do you love me, Maud ? " he asked. What 
 he meant was what he could not have meant two 
 years ago, what he would not have demanded 
 for himself, what he would not have been pre- 
 pared to promise, although he would most 
 certainly have given it to a good woman. 
 What he meant now was not the passion of love, 
 which he knew Maud would give him, but some- 
 thing else, that something that except from 
 Ursula he had never experienced in his life and 
 which he realised was " necessary." 
 
 He asked the question of Maud with absolute 
 simplicity and directness, knowing that she 
 would know all that the words implied, just as 
 she had known all that it had implied when he 
 said, " You loved Ursula ? " Maud hesitated a 
 moment and then said : 
 
 " All that I am capable of is yours ; " then 
 after a moment's pause she said, " Lionel, you 
 must despise me." She stood waiting, tortured 
 with self-reproach and anxiety. 
 
 " It is not for me to despise you," he said a 
 little hoarsely. " I'm no saint, Maud." 
 
 No, he was no saint, his past life witnessed 
 to that ; but neither was he the sinner who 
 flaps his wings and crows a noisy self-approba- 
 tion ; no mean personal vanity stepped in
 
 324 TWO SINNERS 
 
 between himself and Truth, and urged him to 
 call good evil, or evil good. 
 
 " Do you mean," said Maud, " that you can 
 forgive me now that you know what I am ? " 
 
 " Don't talk of my forgiveness ! Don't I 
 need forgiveness ? " He held out his hands to 
 her and drew her down to the couch again. 
 
 " Oh, Lionel," she said tremulously. " How 
 is it that I have happiness that I don't deserve ? 
 It must be because God sends His merciful rain 
 equally upon the just and upon the unjust." 
 
 " There is time," he said. " I hope there is 
 time left for you and for me ! " 
 
 She knew what he meant.
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII 
 
 KAMES did not walk nearly so lamely as Maud 
 had imagined he would. He actually got up 
 from his couch in the library, and with the aid 
 of a stick and Fitzherbert's arm he crossed the 
 hall almost briskly and went into the dining- 
 room. 
 
 " I am perfectly certain that I could walk 
 alone," he said to Lady Dorothy as they seated 
 themselves at table, " only they won't let me." 
 
 ' You are positively agile," said Lady 
 Dorothy, who was giving him a covert glance 
 to see whether he had indeed grown any stouter. 
 He had not, as yet, and perhaps the catastrophe 
 would be averted. She sincerely hoped so, for 
 Kames just as he was seemed to her delighted 
 eyes exactly what he ought to be. He was 
 stouter than Fitzherbert, but then Fitzherbert 
 erred a little on the side of being gaunt. He 
 did not look the aristocrat that Fitzherbert was, 
 but then, thought the good lady, there was an 
 indescribable charm in Lionel's appearance that 
 would have fascinated her had she been a young 
 girl far more than any mere regularity of 
 feature. 
 
 To Maud it seemed so strange to see Fitz- 
 herbert sitting opposite to Lionel and pronouncing 
 the brief academic benediction on their meal.
 
 326 TWO SINNERS 
 
 It was like a dream conceived by the brain of 
 Ursula and continued by herself. 
 
 To Lady Dorothy nothing seemed strange 
 that morning. She could almost have believed 
 that no tragic break in the engagement between 
 Maud and Lionel had ever taken place. The 
 break, indeed, had been quite unnecessary and 
 merely a symptom of the " general unrest " 
 affected by the present generation. It seemed 
 as if it were only the other day that it had been 
 arranged that they were to come to Orpenden 
 to meet Lionel's friends at dinner, and here they 
 were at Orpenden, the only difference being that 
 they were lunching and with Fitzherbert instead 
 of dining and with strangers and the Monckton 
 collarette. Surely it was only yesterday that 
 there had been that At Home at No. 2, Brown 
 Street ? Almost the last thing that Lionel 
 had said, before that silly, silly, wretched fuss 
 Maud had made in the writing-room, almost the 
 last thing that Lionel had said was that he w r as 
 going to drive all the crowd away for the sake of 
 poor little Kiddie, who was so lonely upstairs 
 all by his own little self ! Lady Dorothy looked 
 through her glasses tenderly at Kames's face. 
 What a kind man he was to have sung that song 
 about not understanding anything about some- 
 thing or other ! Everybody had rushed away 
 the moment it was over and no wonder ! It 
 was really very naughty of Lionel, but very, very 
 charming of him and so clever. If Kiddie had 
 lived he would have become very devoted to him. 
 Poor Kiddie, how keenly he would have enjoyed
 
 TWO SINNERS 327 
 
 Orpenden ! After the poor darling had got over 
 his first excitement and had barked just a little 
 at the people in the house and at the portraits 
 up in the gallery (the little man was so intelligent, 
 he knew that portraits were people) after he 
 had expressed his dear feelings he would have 
 simply loved the house. Had Lionel heard of 
 poor Kiddie's death ? 
 
 She put the question to him in a softened 
 voice, curling the stiff bridge of her nose in a 
 marvellous way, for its appearance under normal 
 circumstances gave no indication that it possessed 
 elasticity. 
 
 No, Kames had not heard of it, and he raised 
 his eyebrows and looked at Lady Dorothy with 
 decorous attention, avoiding Maud's glance. 
 Fitzherbert began to talk of other things and 
 held Maud's attention, so Lady Dorothy had 
 Kames all to herself. 
 
 Actually Maud had not mentioned the death 
 of Kiddie to him ! But then people in love, 
 when they get together are apt to be just a 
 little self-centred ; they must not be too much 
 blamed. Lady Dorothy forgave them and her 
 forgiveness was all the more easily granted 
 because Lionel's complete ignorance of the great 
 tragedy gave her the opportunity of telling the 
 whole story with the length and solemnity that 
 it required. Having finished her tale, she went 
 on to remark that her new pet was not as sensitive 
 as Kiddie nor as intelligent; he was merely 
 very lovable. 
 
 " Why didn't you bring the little animal with
 
 328 TWO SINNERS 
 
 you ? " asked Kames in a voice that scarcely 
 concealed his relief at the prospect of a peaceful 
 substitute for the demon of No. 2, Brown 
 Street. 
 
 " I would have brought him, I wanted to 
 bring him," said Lady Dorothy, " but I thought 
 we should be too many for you as you are not 
 quite strong yet. You will see him later on. 
 But I must warn you not to expect in him the 
 individuality that was Kiddie's strong point. 
 Dogs have individuality," she added firmly as 
 she glanced round at Fitzherbert and nodded 
 her head across at Maud. 
 
 " My dear lady," said Kames warmly, " I 
 have no doubt that every blessed blue-bottle has 
 got its own individuality, only we haven't time 
 to observe it." 
 
 Fitzherbert listened, but said nothing. 
 " That's going too far, Lionel," exclaimed 
 Lady Dorothy. 
 
 This was taking all the glory and credit from 
 Kiddie's individuality. 
 
 " It's not going far enough. Nature isn't 
 as exclusive as you think," said Kames. " For 
 all you or I know," he went on, turning to her 
 and speaking in that warm confidential manner 
 that she loved " for all you or I know, there 
 are beetles walking on that terrace behind 
 Fitzherbert that have souls to be saved. Re- 
 member that when you go and stamp upon 
 'em ! " 
 
 " I don't stamp on things," said Lady 
 Dorothy, who would have been scandalised had
 
 the speaker been any one else than Lionel 
 Kames. 
 
 " I do," said Kames ; " I stamp on 'em and 
 I don't care. If I was a Buddhist, 'pon my word, 
 I shouldn't know where to walk." 
 
 Lady Dorothy had been under the impression 
 that the transmigration of souls only concerned 
 " four-footed " beasts that were familiar in the 
 domestic circle, or such wild animals as are 
 objects of popular interest in the Zoological 
 Gardens. In that heavenly Cosmos which one 
 day she would reluctantly accept as a substitute 
 for the earthly one, she hoped that there would 
 be no attempt made by Providence to introduce 
 insect life. It had not answered here and she 
 was convinced that there would be " no room," 
 apart from other objections. 
 
 Of the four persons seated in that dining- 
 room at Orpenden, none of whom was undis- 
 tinguished in appearance, the most striking 
 figure was that of Fitzherbert. Even when he 
 was silent, his stern features and luminous pale 
 grey eyes dominated the table. Lady Dorothy 
 turned to him. 
 
 ' You know how Major Kames chaffs," she 
 said with an appealing glance through her eye- 
 glasses, for here was an ecclesiastical official 
 whose business it was to admit to the world 
 beyond only those passengers who held first- 
 class tickets. ' You know how he chaffs," she 
 repeated. 
 
 Fitzherbert laughed. " Yes, I know how 
 he chaffs."
 
 330 TWO SINNERS 
 
 But what he exactly meant Lady Dorothy 
 was not certain. She sighed. What was wrong 
 with the world was that it was too modern. 
 Delightful as Lionel was, he was, of course, 
 modern. Fitzherbert was modern. In her 
 young days, she could not remember any clergy- 
 men who were celibates and wore cassocks in 
 the house. All this was modern and the old 
 sound Evangelicalism that knew the truth and 
 said it clearly was dying out and everything 
 had become a jumble. 
 
 And what were Maud's thoughts ? She re- 
 membered with amazement that when she was 
 at Orpenden, sitting at this same table, eighteen 
 months ago, she had looked at Lionel with 
 lowered critical eyes and for the hundredth 
 time pronounced him to be typical of the full- 
 blown prosperous philistine with artistic pre- 
 tensions. Now, looking at him with the eyes of 
 love, he seemed to her simply a dear, sensitive, 
 pathetic figure and she was prepared, if it was 
 necessary, to champion him against the world. 
 In the old days her criticism of him had ex- 
 hausted her nervously ; now she felt a profound 
 peace in his presence such peace as Ursula had 
 felt. 
 
 She did not ask herself what Fitzherbert 
 thought of him. Having ceased to criticise 
 Lionel herself, she did not anticipate the criticism 
 of others. Lionel's acquaintance with Fitz- 
 herbert had occurred by accident, but had not 
 their friendship been made possible because of 
 some community of mind ?
 
 TWO SINNERS 331 
 
 This thought must have been mirrored in 
 her eyes, for Fitzherbert suddenly broke off 
 his talk and said quietly, without altering the 
 inflexion of his voice : 
 
 ' You are asking a question ? " 
 
 Maud flushed a little. 
 
 " A stupid question, I am afraid," she said ; 
 and then, as he did not remove his eyes from 
 hers, she added : 
 
 " I was thinking : what do you and Lionel 
 talk about ? " 
 
 Kames had caught the words and adroitly 
 disengaging himself from Lady Dorothy's grasp, 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 ' What do we talk about ? Why drains." 
 
 " Drains ! " repeated Lady Dorothy. 
 
 Maud looked musingly at her future husband. 
 
 "Do you mean moral drains ? " 
 
 Lady Dorothy looked helplessly round the 
 table. 
 
 ' Yes," said Fitzherbert, at last answering 
 Maud's question. ' We discuss that intermin- 
 able question : whether and how far the State 
 can destroy the weeds of social life and preserve 
 the flowers ? It is the old question that Plato 
 discussed : Can Virtue be taught ? Or, does 
 Virtue come by inspiration ? I use the word 
 * inspiration ' in its philosophical sense : ' Ye 
 know not whither it cometh ? ' I think the 
 answer to both these questions is ' Yes.' Virtue 
 can be taught and it also comes whither we 
 know not. It may be that this dualism is only 
 apparent. But think of what all this means if
 
 332 TWO SINNERS 
 
 we take it seriously, all it means in political 
 effort and in religious aspiration. Wnile we 
 delay in making this effort, while we hesitate 
 to seek the Spirit, the problem of Virtue remains 
 insoluble." 
 
 Lady Dorothy coughed slightly. The pro- 
 blem of Virtue was not insoluble in No. 2, Brown 
 Street. What a pity it was that Lionel should 
 share views of this kind (whatever they were) ! 
 It would only encourage Maud in being eccentric. 
 
 Still, disquieting thoughts were not suitable 
 for such a happy occasion. Whatever views 
 Lionel Kames might have, she was thankful to 
 have him back again in the family circle ; and 
 as to Fitzherbert, he seemed almost a holy man, 
 though misguided in some respects. 
 
 Almost before lunch was finished the doctor 
 arrived unexpectedly, and Lady Dorothy and 
 Maud went into the drawing-room to wait until 
 the interview was over. 
 
 Maud had scarcely taken up her cup of 
 coffee when she recollected the buttons on Fitz- 
 herbert's cloak. 
 
 " I must sew them on properly," said Maud. 
 
 " One of the maids will do it," said Lady 
 Dorothy. 
 
 " They won't do it as well or so quickly as 
 I shall," said Maud, touching the bell. 
 
 " You can't do it here," said Lady Dorothy, 
 " and it will only make a fuss." 
 
 " Let me do it here, dear Aunt Dorothy. I 
 shall retire to the other end of the room," said 
 Maud in a firm voice. " It must be done at
 
 TWO SINNERS 333 
 
 once, as you know Father Fitzherbert wants ua 
 to start as soon as the doctor has gone. He has 
 an engagement." 
 
 Before her aunt could make further objec- 
 tions she had demanded the cloak from the 
 amazed butler and sent an urgent demand to 
 the servants' quarters for the requisite tools 
 wherewith to do the work. She spoke with 
 such quiet insistence that before five minutes 
 had elapsed she was seated at the extreme end 
 of the drawing-room, out of sight of Lady 
 Dorothy, had got the cloak upon her knees and 
 was rather feverishly attacking the buttons. 
 
 ' You are making a fuss, my dear," said 
 Lady Dorothy without turning her head. 
 
 " I am," said Maud, from the distant corner. 
 " I really couldn't allow some callous hand to 
 sew on these buttons. I wish I could sponge 
 the front of the cloak with some Scrubb's 
 ammonia but I suppose that would be going too 
 far." 
 
 Besides, there was not time. In a few 
 minutes they heard voices in the hall and the 
 doctor drove away. A moment later and Fitz- 
 herbert came into the drawing-room. 
 
 ' Well," he said coming straight up to Maud 
 and looking down at her, " the news is good. 
 Kames is doing remarkably well ; the bone 
 seems to be righting itself with the massage he 
 is having. It is wonderful how happiness helps 
 the work. Kames now has everything in his 
 favour." 
 
 Maud had thrown the cloak behind her chair
 
 334 TWO SINNERS 
 
 and sat with the needle in her hand, looking up 
 at Fitzherbert. 
 
 " I don't like hurrying you, but I am afraid 
 I ought to be starting in ten minutes," he added. 
 
 The time had been all too brief at Orpenden, 
 but what did it matter ? Was it not the first 
 of many visits, the first day of many days ? 
 
 It was indeed only the first day of many days, 
 and yet when the door of the library closed on 
 Maud, and Kames was left alone on his couch, 
 it seemed to him as if the hours that separated 
 him from Maud's next visit were not hours but 
 years. But the future was gilded with a strange 
 brilliance such as he had not dreamt of, a beauty 
 of which he was almost afraid. He had looked 
 forward to his Parliamentary career merely with 
 the sober desire to be reckoned among the 
 workers of the world ; he had hoped to fill the 
 emptiness of his heart with the warmth that is 
 beaten out of the struggle and stress of public 
 work ; but he had never expected to enter 
 upon this new life with the exhilaration and 
 buoyant hope that filled him now as with an 
 intoxication. 
 
 Maud's love was more than ever he had 
 hoped for in a woman. Should he get used to it ? 
 Should he cease to wonder and delight in it ? 
 Human nature accustoms itself to depths of 
 sorrow and also to heights of happiness. This 
 afternoon when she bid him good-bye she had 
 kissed him passionately and told him in a tragic 
 whisper to " take care of himself " till she 
 returned. Should he get used to this warmth
 
 TWO SINNERS 335 
 
 of solicitude ? He certainly would get used to 
 it, but it would become a necessity of his life ! 
 
 Kames sighed deeply as he lay on his couch. 
 It was the sigh of fulness of happiness. Then 
 he looked round him and reached for a book 
 from the table at hand. Maud's love was 
 absorbing, but it was also stimulating, he had the 
 woman of his heart to work for her approbation 
 to gain ! 
 
 He opened the book and began to read, but 
 in the stillness of that spacious room only 
 broken by the fitful crackling of the fire, a sudden 
 deep regret broke in upon his thoughts, a piercing 
 sadness. Ursula would never enter the house 
 of his married happiness, she would never tread 
 these floors, she would never sleep under the 
 protecting roof of Orpenden, never see their 
 children, never share in the vicissitudes of his 
 public life, never discuss with him his new 
 projects, or those old questions that Fitzherbert 
 spoke of, questions that the world has always 
 discussed since it began to think at all and always 
 will discuss ! She was gone, but not to any 
 strange place ; she was gone whither all the 
 Past has drifted and to which the Present 
 drifts inevitably, bearing with it its joys and 
 sorrows, its victories and its defeats on the 
 ceaseless tide of that interminable river that we 
 
 call Destiny. 
 
 > 
 
 Maud was being swiftly carried along the 
 roads towards London in the growing shadows 
 of that eventful afternoon. Even Lady Dorothy
 
 336 TWO SINNERS 
 
 was silent. Too much had happened during the 
 last few hours for any one of the three to think 
 that it was necessary to entertain the others. 
 
 Lady Dorothy was thinking of many things : 
 of future visits to Orpenden, of Maud's wedding 
 and, after the wedding, of the necessity of 
 drawing Stella into closer connection with No. 2, 
 Brown Street. Stella would have to initiate 
 and help with all social functions. Lady Dorothy 
 was plunged in serious reflection ! 
 
 What was Fitzherbert thinking of ? He sat 
 silent, looking straight out before him over the 
 heads of the two ladies opposite. He was quite 
 unconscious that his cloak was tidy. He had 
 not noticed, in buttoning it up, that the buttons 
 were firm and in their right places ; or, if some 
 obscure cognition of the fact had dawned in his 
 brain, that germ of thought had never risen into 
 full consciousness. 
 
 Suddenly Maud turned in her seat and looked 
 anxiously round at her Aunt Dorothy. 
 
 " I quite forgot to warn him of that crease 
 in the carpet ! " she said. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " demanded Lady 
 Dorothy, startled out of her thoughts. 
 
 Fitzherbert lowered his eyes to look at the girl. 
 
 " We couldn't go back, I suppose ? " stam- 
 mered Maud, glancing at the watch on her wrist. 
 " I quite forgot to warn him ! There was a 
 crease in the carpet in his study. I noticed it 
 and meant to speak of it, and then, somehow, I 
 forgot ! " 
 
 " Well, my dear, what does it matter ? Very
 
 TWO SINNERS 337 
 
 careless of the servants, of course ; but what 
 else can you expect in a bachelor's house ? " 
 
 " But it is so dangerous," said Maud, urgently. 
 " He may fall over it. I suppose we couldn't go 
 back and " 
 
 " My dear Maud, why in the world should he 
 fall over it ? " said Lady Dorothy. " What an 
 imagination you have ! " 
 
 " Why shouldn't he fall over it ? " exclaimed 
 Maud. " Couldn't we go ? " 
 
 " No," said Fitzherbert very quietly and he 
 leaned forward a little and looked straight into 
 Maud's anxious eyes. " No ! Your anxiety, 
 Miss Monckton, is out of all proportion to the 
 cause. Kames isn't to walk without the assist- 
 ance of his man for another day or two." 
 
 Maud sank back into her seat, out-argued 
 but unhappy. " I shall wire directly I get 
 home," she said. 
 
 Then she saw the smile lurking behind the 
 lips opposite to her and the pale grey eyes full 
 of humour. 
 
 ' You are laughing at me," she said. " You 
 think I am a fool ; perhaps I am." 
 
 Lady Dorothy looked away ; she was con- 
 scious that the talk was now getting a little 
 private. 
 
 " I don't want you to torture yourself un- 
 necessarily," said Fitzherbert. " There are 
 enough serious troubles without our inventing 
 them. Not merely for your own sake, but for 
 his," he added in a low voice. " Take a 
 courageous view of life. Now ! Always ! " 
 
 z
 
 338 TWO SINNEES 
 
 Maud returned his gaze. " I had forgotten," 
 she said quietly. 
 
 " And when you write to him this evening," 
 he said, smiling broadly, " you can mention the 
 crease in the carpet." 
 
 " You are right," she said. ' You always 
 are." 
 
 THE END 
 
 PBINTED BY 'WILLIAM CLOWES AM> SONS, LIMITED, LOM'ON AKD BECCLES, EKtiLAND.