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 THE HOLY ESTATE 
 
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 HOLY EST/ITE 
 
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 By 
 
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 FMNR TH71TCHER. 
 
 ignDon
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/holyestatestudyi01wilk
 
 
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 ?S6
 
 AUTHORS' NOTE 
 
 »J<«c 
 
 CHAPTERS II.-VL, VIII., XI.-XVL, and XVIII. are 
 
 written by Captain THATCHER. 
 The rest of the Novel is written by Mr. IV. H. WILKINS.
 
 THE HOLY ESTATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Dearly beloved, ive are gathered together here in the 
 sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, 
 to join together this Man and this Woman in holy 
 Matrimony ; which is an honourable estate, insti- 
 tuted of God in the tiriie of nia/a's innocency, 
 signifying unto us the mystical union thai is 
 betwixt Christ and His Church ; ivhich holy estate 
 Christ adorned and beautified with His presence, 
 and first mircccle that He wrought in Cana of 
 
 Galilee; 
 
 The old priest's eyes lifted a moment from his 
 book and fell upon the white-robed figure before 
 him. His voice faltered a little ; there was a sym- 
 pathetic rustle among the congregation ; he went 
 
 and is commended of St. Paul to be honourable 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 The Holy Estate. 
 
 among all men : and therefore is not hy any to he 
 enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, 
 lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts 
 and appetites, like brute beasts that have no under- 
 standing ; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, 
 soberly, and in the fear of God ; duly considering 
 the cause for which Mcdrimony was ordained. 
 
 The congregation looked serenely unconscious. 
 They were thinking of the dresses doubtless, or 
 perhaps most of them did not understand this bald 
 way of putting things, which anywhere but here 
 would be considered unfit for ears polite. Yet it is 
 as well that people should hear the truth sometimes 
 — even in church. 
 
 But the truth often falls upon deaf ears; and 
 even when it does not, we are apt to apply it to our 
 neighbours rather than to ourselves. It certainly 
 fell upon deaf ears in the case of the bridegroom, 
 Captain Wortley Dampier, as he stood there erect, 
 with soldierly bearing, and clad in irreproachably- 
 cut frock-coat. Captain Dampier's stock-in-trade 
 was an admirable manner, more than a fair share 
 of good looks, and a first-rate tailor. All the best 
 goods were in the shop windows. 
 
 Getting married — if one hasn't done it before —
 
 The Holy Estate. 3 
 
 must be, to a certain extent, a new sensation. In 
 Wortley Dampier's case — and he hadn't gone 
 through the ceremony before — it was not by any 
 means an unpleasant one. The woman whom, in 
 a few minutes, he would call his wife, had a 
 little money, and much beauty. Thus two 
 potent passions in men of his type would be 
 gratified. 
 
 The thought of these things made Captain 
 Dampier feel quite virtuous. He repeated his vows 
 unctuously. He had foresworn sack, and meant to 
 live cleanly, at any rate until the flesh should 
 move him to live uncleanly again. It is easy to 
 form virtuous resolutions when things go smoothly ; 
 and since he had come Home from India on leave, 
 things had gone very smoothly indeed with Captain 
 Dampier. It was surely his lucky star which had 
 guided him down to this far-away village on the 
 rugged Cornish coast, and which had led him to 
 cross the path of Madeleine Trevethy. 
 
 And since one person's good star is often 
 another's evil one, Madeleine Trevetliy had fallen 
 in love with him. That clever devil. Opportunity, 
 was on his side, and that evil angel, Circumstance, 
 was on hers. Madeleine Trevethy was well past
 
 4 The Holy Estate. 
 
 twenty, and therefore of an age when a young 
 woman is presumed to know her own mind. But 
 of course she doesn't — who does ? She was highly 
 impressionable, very tired of her own narrow little 
 world, and absolutely ignorant of the greater one 
 outside it. Her father, the rector of Trevena, was 
 a very babe in the world's wiles, and she had no 
 other near relatives to warn her against men of 
 Captain Dampier's type, a type which, however 
 common it may be elsewhere, is not often found in 
 an isolated Cornish village. It was the usual 
 story : the girl was caught, fascinated by the man's 
 glib tongue and good looks. She believed his vows 
 of love and devotion, vows which were sworn by 
 all eternity — an eternity which lasts until the next 
 morning. She trusted him with the perfect trust 
 of one who has never been deceived. She loved 
 him, or thought she did, with a love which seemed 
 sweeter than anything life had brought to her 
 before or could ever bring again. The outward 
 appearance of the man allured her, and for the 
 nonce made her oblivious of anything else. It is 
 easy for a young and healthy girl to imagine her* 
 self in love with a good-looking man. Adolescence 
 and propinquity have a lot to do with these things.
 
 The Holy Estate. 5 
 
 Time being short, for his leave was nearly up 
 and his needs pressing, Captain Dampier made 
 fierce love, and urged an early marriage. There 
 was no reasonable objection to it. The rector 
 demurred a little at first, loth to part with the 
 child of his old age ; but his whole life had been 
 one of self-sacrifice, at one time to a peevish, invalid 
 wife, and then to an ungrateful parish, so he 
 nerved himself to this crowning act of renun- 
 ciation. Only Mrs. Eveline, a friend and neigh- 
 bour, who had been almost an elder sister to the 
 motherless girl, ranged herself in active opposition. 
 She did not like Captain Dampier. She was 
 determined, she said, to know more about him ; but 
 as he equally determined that she should know 
 very little, she did not get much further. The fact 
 that her dislike was instinctive and unreasoning 
 made it all the stronger. People do not reason 
 about likes and dislikes. If they were quite reason- 
 able, they would probably have neither. 
 
 There was nothing definite to be urged against 
 Captain Dampier. He was in the army, a fact 
 which at least explains a man's existence, and 
 if Mrs. Eveline wanted to know more of him or of 
 bis people, she had only to turn up the pages of
 
 6 The Holy Estate. 
 
 that interesting romance, "The Landed Gentry." 
 As the world counts these things, he was an officer 
 and a gentleman. Mrs. Eveline didn't know any 
 of Captain Dampier's Indian friends. No man on 
 whom he had palmed off a horse, no " pigeon " whom 
 he had plucked at cards, no woman with whom he 
 had had an intrigue — no one of these came across 
 her path, and even if any had, what then ? The 
 world doesn't expect a certificate of moral worth 
 from the men who marry ; if it did, the marriage 
 rate would become unprecedentedly low. It theoreti- 
 cally exacts one from the women, and doesn't 
 always get it even then. Besides, Captain Dampier's 
 people — cousins, he had no near relatives — quickened 
 by the memory of sundry unpaid loans, were only 
 too anxious to bear testimony to his virtues, and to 
 draw a veil over his faults. " He is going to marry 
 and settle down," said they, taking Rousseau's 
 view that the sowing of wild oats is necessary in 
 the life of man ; " he will quite reform." A some- 
 what selfish view to take, since the reformation 
 was a doubtful one, and the " settling down " in- 
 volved the sacrifice of a maiden. 
 
 They knelt before God's altar, these two, and 
 repeated the vows which make two one. She
 
 The Holy Estate, 7 
 
 with the holy awe which gathers around the 
 most solemn moments of a woman's life ; he as 
 merely part of the business which had to be gone 
 through. 
 
 Their right hands were joined, and the priest's 
 voice rang out adown the church, — 
 
 " Those whom God hath joined together^ let no 
 man 'put asunder.'' 
 
 Whom God hath joined ! Was such a marriage 
 of God's joining ? To the bride it seemed so. 
 Marriage was a sacrament to her, and everything 
 was holy, mystic, wonderful. The fragrant breath 
 of the lilies on the altar swept across her face. 
 Something hurt her in her throat ; she felt at the 
 point of tears. Her father's voice, the chanting of 
 the choir, seemed very far off; only her husband 
 was near her now, to have and to hold, to love, 
 cherish, and obey, until death should part them. 
 There was more chanting, there were more prayers, 
 an exhortation to which no one listened, kisses, 
 congratulations, and the crashing chords of the 
 wedding march. Then they passed from the 
 crowded church to the brightness of the sunshine 
 outside. Not a cloud was in the sky ; the wide 
 Atlantic, hard by, stretched away, sapphire blue, to
 
 8 The Holy Estate, 
 
 the distant horizon ; the air was joyous with the 
 sound of marriage bells, which drowned the drowsy 
 lapping of the sea on the cliffs beneath ; the path- 
 way was strewn with flowers. It was like the last 
 act of an Adelphi melodrama, or the concluding 
 chapter of a three-volume novel, which treats of 
 marriage as the end of all things, instead of the 
 beginning of them. 
 
 There was a great gathering afterwards at the 
 reetorv, a ramblinsr old house sheltered from the 
 keen Atlantic blasts by the knotted branches of its 
 wind-swept trees. Wedding breakfasts still hold 
 good in North Cornwall. People who have a 
 twenty miles' drive to a wedding expect to find 
 something substantial to eat at the end of it. 
 Madeleine Trevethy's wedding was an event in the 
 annals of the country-side, and friends and neigh- 
 bours came from far and near to wish her God- 
 speed. At least, that is the conventional way of 
 putting it. Most of them, probably, came to see the 
 weddinsf, or to see one another, and to admire their 
 own presents and the gowns. 
 
 There were the usual speeches — at least, they 
 are unusual now — only two, one in which the old 
 rector, with tears in his voice, proposed the health
 
 The Holy Estate. 9 
 
 of the wedded pair ; one in which Captain Dampier, 
 brave and handsome, thanked the company in the 
 name of his " dear wife " and himself for their good 
 wishes, and assured the rector, in time-worn plati- 
 tude, that he " had not lost a daughter but gained 
 a son." People often gain very queer sons in this 
 way, and daughters too, for the matter of that ! 
 
 But the Cornish young ladies took Wortley 
 Dampier seriously, and in their hearts envied 
 Madeleine her handsome husband. It was the 
 physical attraction of the man which appealed to 
 them, as it had appealed to her. There is a tradi- 
 tion to the effect that women of quick wit and 
 intelligence do not bestow their affections upon 
 selfish and vicious men. But it is a tradition often 
 broken, even by highly educated young women of 
 advanced views, if only the object of their infatua- 
 tion be sufficiently strong and good-looking. The 
 phenomenon illustrates how large a share the 
 senses play in the passion called love. Obviously 
 any intelligent young woman would see through a 
 sensual egoist as soon as she had an opportunity of 
 really knowing him. But she seldom gets such an 
 opportunity before marriage ; and after — what avails 
 it ? She must needs balance her gained experience
 
 10 The Holy Estate, 
 
 against her lost illusion. The one is generally 
 purchased at the price of the other. And marriage, 
 we know, is a lottery in which each stakes some- 
 thing, and not unfrequently loses it after the 
 manner of lotteries. 
 
 " Remember, if you ever want a friend, you have 
 only to let me know," tearfully murmured Mrs. 
 Eveline, as she embraced the bride, when the 
 " going away " dress was donned. 
 
 Madeleine thanked her amiably, almost indif- 
 ferently, as friends are thanked who thrust forward 
 their most precious gifts at inopportune moments, 
 and they went downstairs together. Below, there 
 was much confusion and a crowd of people, a few 
 tears and many embraces, a rain of rice and a roll 
 of wheels. Then they were off. That chapter of 
 the woman's life was closed for ever. 
 
 The village was soon left behind. The pair of 
 well-stepping horses bore husband and wife swiftly 
 over the moorland on the way to Launceston, where 
 they were to catch the train to Exeter. Both 
 were silent. He had nothing to say ; her heart 
 was too full for words. His eyes fell upon the 
 little hand which was so close to his own ; he 
 raised it with an air of proprietorship to his lips.
 
 The Holy Estate, il 
 
 At his mute caress her nerves quivered with a 
 sensation wholly new; her face pulsed red, and 
 then faded whitely. In her soul some new birth 
 was in travail. She loved this man, and yet she 
 trembled. She had entrusted her all to him. 
 Her passionate ideals, the unspotted whiteness of 
 her womanhood, the treasure of her love, her life's 
 happiness — all were his, to cherish or to mar 
 as he might please. Her love was voiceless. 
 Ah! now he was about to speak. She lifted 
 her mobile face to his, her red lips trembling, the 
 waking wonder of her soul shining forth in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Thank goodness that is over ! " said this hus- 
 band of an hour, with a yawn of unfeigned relief. 
 *' Do you mind if I have a smoke ? "
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 There are few ills ia life without some compensat- 
 inor balance. The " cold weather season " in India is 
 the compensating balance in Anglo-Indian life. It 
 is the antidote that nature has provided as a set-off 
 against the other eight months of punkahs, ther- 
 mantidotes, iced drinks, and perpetual perspiration. 
 From the end of October until March, India is a 
 delightful place to live in, especially in a large up- 
 country cantonment. There are dances and race- 
 meetings, dinners and picnics galore, and people 
 wrap themselves up in furs in the chilly night air, 
 and say, *' Just fancy this in India ! " Then, Hey 
 presto ! all changes. The heads of departments, 
 with the secretariats, clerks, and oflfice-boxes flee up 
 to the Hills. The other portion of the Anglo-Indian 
 world, who have not the good fortune to be heads 
 of departments, secretaries, or clerks, don white 
 clothing and thick pith hats. They lie about, pant- 
 ing, in broad verandahs, with blue " chicks " hang- 
 ing round, and recline in long arm-chairs, with "peg" 
 
 13
 
 The Holy Estate. I3 
 
 tumblers on the arms thereof, and heavy white 
 punkahs swinging over their heads. Outside, every- 
 thing is brown and parched with heat and dust: 
 not a breath of wind stirs in the blinding, palpi- 
 tating glare. Everyone of these belated ones moves 
 languidly about, cursing the wretched 'punha- 
 wallahs, and sighing for the time when their two 
 months privilege leave will come due, so that they 
 too may rush up to the Hills, and live. 
 
 But now, at the time of which we write, it was 
 the cold weather season, and Dustypore is one of 
 the most charming places in India in the cold 
 weather. It has a large garrison ; a fine race- 
 course (left handed) ; a comfortable club named 
 after a distinguished general who was found 
 thoroughly incompetent in the hour of need, but 
 who was the best man in Upper India at concocting 
 fancy drinks ; a public garden with a covered 
 band-stand ; and a swimming bath. 
 
 Among the regiments that had the good fortune 
 to be stationed in Dustypore was Her Majesty's 
 111th Regiment of Foot — more recently known as 
 ^' Prince Heinrich Von Seidlitz's Own." Most of the 
 battles of bygone days, when soldiers were soldiers 
 and soldiers fought, were embroidered on their
 
 14 The Holy Estate. 
 
 colours, from Minden to Sevastopol. The regi- 
 ment had just returned from a Black Mountain ex- 
 pedition, covered with glory and laurels, with two 
 men killed and five slightly wounded. They had 
 assisted in capturing two sungars, and had carefully 
 been kept out of the way of any ghazis who 
 happened to be in their vicinity. The dear old 
 colonel was now waiting for the coveted C.B. 
 which was to reward his gallant services and shed 
 a lustre on the regiment under him. His attitude 
 just now was one of animated expectancy ; by-and- 
 by, when he had come Home, it would be one of 
 suspended animation in a Service club window. 
 But that is to anticipate. 
 
 The 111th was more than ordinarily fortunate. 
 One of its junior oflScers had served as mditre 
 d'hotel to the general officer commanding the 
 brigade (as is usual in Black Mountain expeditions) 
 and had seen that the food was digestible, and that 
 the general's baggage headed the line of transport. 
 He was officially called a Staff officer, and he was 
 now waiting for the D.S.O., an honour which would 
 deservedly be his, for the general's bed had always 
 been carefully laid out, and the food was all that 
 could have been desired. The adjutant who had
 
 The Holy Estate. 15 
 
 dry-nursed the colonel had also been handsomely 
 mentioned in dispatches, and there was a probability 
 of one of the shower of honours fallinor upon him 
 too. In fact there were so many stars and decor- 
 ations flying around that even the junior subalterns 
 hoped that they might come in for a share — " One 
 never knows," said Lieutenant Smith sententiously, 
 " Great Scot ! Jones got the D.S.O. last year, and 
 you or I may come in for one this. It's all luck ! " 
 And the other subs, sucked down their pegs and 
 nodded acquiescence. 
 
 Among the officers who had the honour of belong- 
 ing to this distinguished corps was Captain Wortley 
 Dampier. Captain Dampier would have made an 
 admirable tipster for a sporting paper, or croupier 
 at a gaming-hell; but Fate, or Fortune, had made him 
 an officer of the 111th Foot. The favourite pursuit 
 and passion of his life was horse-racing — though it 
 was not his only one. Among his associates in this 
 particular line he was considered " very smart." 
 This being translated, meant that he was absolutely 
 unscrupulous in his dealings, and that he never 
 missed an opportunity of plundering others less in- 
 timate with the intricacies of Indian racing than 
 himself.
 
 1 6 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " You have to pay for your experience, my dear 
 boy," he used to say, as he pocketed a pigeon's 
 cheque — that was true, for the pigeons sometimes 
 had to pay very heavily — " as I have paid for 
 mine." That was a lie, for his experience seemed 
 to have been born with him. 
 
 Nevertheless, he had always managed to keep 
 within the boundary line (the ethics of Indian 
 racing are very broad), though he had nearly over- 
 stepped it more than once. He could ride, and 
 did, which contributed a great deal to his success ; 
 and he could " pull " a horse as artistically as any 
 "gentleman-rider" in India, which is saying a 
 great deal. But " pull " as he pleased, there was 
 one jockey who generally managed to " upset his 
 pots " and " dish his soft thing," and that was his 
 Nemesis of ill-luck. 
 
 The Dampiers' bungalow stood in the centre of 
 the 111th " Lines." It was of the ordinary type 
 of one-storied bungalow, with big, white-washed 
 pillars supporting the heavy thatched roof. The 
 " compound " in front stretched down to the dusty 
 road which led to the barracks and then on to the 
 race-course. Everything about the bungalow 
 looked now at its best ; roses clustered in profusion
 
 The Holy Estate. ly 
 
 along the gravelled paths, and the creepers which 
 climbed up the pillars of the verandah on to the 
 brown roof looked fresh and green. 
 
 It was early morning, and the sun was still low 
 on the horizon. The morning breeze swept with 
 delicious coolness through the gentle swaying 
 branches of the great peepul tree, and fluttered its 
 delicately pointed leaves. The peepul stood, like a 
 giant sentinel, at the corner of the bungalow, and 
 cast a protective shadow over the roof and the 
 threadbare lawn in front, where a few blades of 
 grass were struggling against the parching effects 
 of the past hot weather. 
 
 One of the many chicks which hung before the 
 glass doors opening on to the verandah was pulled 
 back, and a woman stepped out. She stood 
 motionless, for a few moments, in thought, and 
 gazed abstractedly at a fat diirzi who was seated 
 on a broad mat in a corner, surrounded by piles of 
 linen, paper patterns, thread, scissors, and all tlie 
 paraphernalia of his craft. She lifted her face to 
 the fresh morning breeze, and the slanting rays of 
 the rising sun lighted up her sad eyes and played 
 on her soft brown hair. 
 
 Punkahs, thermantidotes, and iced drinks, are 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 1 8 The Holy Estate. 
 
 not conducive to feminine beauty. Thie climate 
 and Anglo-Indian life generally works havoc on 
 the fresh faces of the young damsels who trip so 
 gaily across the gangway of the newly arrived 
 P. & 0. steamer on to the Apollo Bunder, full of 
 happy anticipations of dancing, riding, flirting in 
 dimly-lighted hala-jugalis, and everything dear to 
 the iieaits of girls fresh from the cold convention- 
 alities of dull old England. But, alas ! by-and-by 
 the roses on their cheeks fade, and gradually yield 
 place to the greyish-yellow tinge so often seen on 
 the faces of Europeans in India. The peculiar 
 malady of home-sickness generally comes after a 
 few years, and many a once bright matron lies about 
 in a darkened chamber, with dusky attendants mov- 
 ing noiselessly around, while in the next room an 
 ayah is crooning native ditties over a restless gasp- 
 ing baby, as she listlessly fans the wasted atom of 
 humanity in her lap. 
 
 Few of her home acquaintances would have 
 immediately recognised in Mrs. Wortley Dampier 
 the young wife who, only four years before, had 
 left her secluded Cornish village. It was still the 
 same gentle face, with large, questioning eyes and 
 s\veet, sensitive mouth, but the general expressign
 
 The Holy Estate. 19 
 
 was different. Just now, she looked jaded and 
 worn ; the bright morning light brought out little 
 lines which ought not to have been visible on the 
 face of one so young. 
 
 She gave a little sigh, and moved slowly across 
 to the corner where the old durzi was seated at 
 work. 
 
 " No, I dare not send one of the syces," she said 
 meditatively, "though he would go quicker; Wortley 
 would only be angry." 
 
 "Durzi" she exclaimed, in that extraordinary 
 polyglot language which Englishwomen in India 
 use, and call Hindustani, "Durzi, chello geldi to 
 the doctor sahib and humura salaam do. Doctor 
 sahib holo that missie haha bahut hemar hi. Now 
 go geldi." 
 
 The old man understood that he was to call the 
 doctor and that the child was ill. He stuck his 
 needle into his turban and rose to go. 
 
 Just then there was a clatter of hoofs, and a man, 
 mounted on a powerful " waler," came swinging 
 into the compound and pulled up with a clatter 
 before the porch. 
 
 It was Captain Dampier. He was a fine-looking 
 man at all tunes, but he never looked so well as
 
 20 The Holy Estate. 
 
 when on a horse; he was a perfect rider and a 
 wonderful horseman. 
 
 "Here, syce, take her away, and see that you 
 rub her down properly. I'll come round myself 
 presently, and if there's a wet hair on her, I'll 
 break every bone in your body," he cried volubly, 
 in Hindustani. 
 
 Looking up, he saw his wife standing in front of 
 him. She had come to meet him. 
 
 " What on earth makes you come out into the 
 sun like this, Madeleine ? " he exclaimed irritably. 
 "If I've told you of it once, I've told you a 
 hundred times. You're looking washed out enough 
 without making yourself worse.'' 
 
 " Oh, Wortley," she replied, without heeding him, 
 " Lena is much worse. I'm sure she is ill, and I 
 was sending the durzi round to Dr. Clayton when 
 you came up. But now you can ride round your- 
 self and call him ; it will be much quicker." 
 
 " Perhaps it would," he retorted coolly as he dis- 
 mounted ; " but Starlight has been out in the sun 
 quite long enough this morning. She cost me 
 fifteen hundred, and I'm hanged if I am going to 
 run the risk of having her laid up for all the kids 
 in creation. Come in out of the sun. Burninor
 
 The Holy R state. 21 
 
 yourself as yellow as a guinea won't make the 
 child any better." 
 
 In times gone by, a brutal speech like this would 
 have hurt Madeleine far more than it did now. 
 After four years, she was accustomed to this kind of 
 thing. She was his wife ; it was only what she had 
 to expect. 
 
 She re-entered the verandah without further 
 remonstrance, and repeated her orders to the 
 durzi. 
 
 Captain Dampier flung his helmet and crop 
 into one of the chairs in the verandah, and seating 
 himself in another, shouted for a whisky-and- 
 soda. 
 
 " Don't make so much noise, Wortley — you don't 
 seem to care a bit about anyone or anything except 
 yourself and your horses. I would have gone my- 
 self to get you a peg if you had asked me." 
 
 " Taking care of one's horses means taking care 
 of one's money," he replied with lazy jocularity ; 
 *' that is, if you take care to run them to suit your- 
 self. I didn't ask you to get me a peg, because I 
 want to tell Karim Bux that I shall want the dun 
 pony presently. I am going to breakfast at the 
 Mess, and I shall be dining there to-night as well.
 
 25 The Holy Estate. 
 
 and go on to the lotteries after. — Ah ! here is Karim 
 Bux — bring me a whisky peg, and tell the syce to 
 saddle and bring round the pony at once. Yellow 
 Peter, the polo pony, you know." 
 
 " Won't you come in and look at poor little 
 Lena ? " asked Mrs. Dampier anxiously, when the 
 Jdtonatgar had disappeared behind the chicle. " She 
 is burning with fever, poor child, and tossing about 
 dreadfully. Do come, Wortley." 
 
 " What's the good ? I can't do everything. I'm 
 not the doctor," he replied. "He'll be here pre- 
 sently, and then we shall hear what's wrong. She 
 will get all right, never fear. She's been like this 
 before. By-the-bye, where's Vic ? " 
 
 Vic was Captain Dampier's pet fox-terrier. 
 
 Mrs. Dampier lay back in her chair. It seemed 
 hopeless. She wondered vaguely if all men were 
 like this in their home-life, when the thin veneer 
 of society manners was rubbed off, and women 
 knew them as they were. 
 
 *' Vic is tied up," she replied wearily. " I had 
 her tied up because she kept coming into Lena's 
 room and making: a noise." 
 
 "Poor little beast — that's like you, Madeleine. 
 I'll go and let her loo^e myself — you women are so
 
 The Holy Estate. 53 
 
 brutal to animals," he said savagely. He gulped 
 down his peg, and strode round to the back of the 
 house. 
 
 Presently he ca.me back to the verandah with a 
 small fox-terrier frisking about him. A pony, led 
 by a syce, came round to the porch at the same 
 time. 
 
 " So they went and tied up poor little Yic — the 
 smartest little bitch of her size in India ! " he mur- 
 mured as he lay back in the chair and the dog leapt 
 up on to his body and licked his face ; " what an 
 
 infernal shame Now!" he exclaimed, jumping 
 
 up suddenly, " I must be off to the Mess. I hear 
 that something has gone wrong with Corisande, 
 and I must find out all about it." 
 
 " But won't you come in just for a minute, before 
 you go, and look at Lena, and tell me what you 
 think ? " his wife pleaded again. 
 
 For a moment he hesitated ; then a gong sounded 
 the hour from the barracks up the road. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he cried, " there's nine o'clock. I had 
 no idea it was so late. Xo ; I'll have a look in by- 
 and-by, after the doctor's been. Well, ta-ta for the 
 present, ffi, syce^ tattoo lao" 
 
 There was a clatter of hoofs and a whirling cloud
 
 24 The Holy Estate. 
 
 of dust, in the midst of which the wretched syce tore 
 along with a blanket over his shoulder, trying to 
 keep pace with the pony in front, and Captain 
 Dampier had gone to his breakfast.
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 Most regiments have some object of which they are 
 particularly proud. It may take the form of an 
 ancient urn, or it may be a special brand of wine 
 or cigars. Whatever it may be, it is a fetish, and 
 reverenced accordingly. 
 
 The 111th (Prince Heinrich of Seidlitz's Own) 
 possessed a silver snufF-box. There were several 
 legends related about it, all more or less apocryphal, 
 and differing in matters of detail as to character 
 and locality ; but, nevertheless, the snuff-box was a 
 regimental fetish, and a remarkably commonplace 
 one to boot. Fetishes generally are. The regiment 
 also prided itself on its port, and a wonderful 
 vintage it was, supplied by the colonel's brother, 
 who was a London wine merchant. This opened a 
 wide field for commissions on orders, and what 
 Sheridan called the " puff oblique." 
 
 Over the mantelpiece, in the mess-room, hung a 
 
 half-length engraving of H.R.H. Prince Heinrich of 
 
 Seidlitz, in the uniform of the Isle of Man volunteers, 
 
 25
 
 26 The Holy Estate. 
 
 with an autograph scribbled underneath. On the 
 table, which was now laid for breakfast, stood one 
 or two of the ten silver cups and vases presented 
 by different officers, on promotion or retirement — 
 mostly the former, for promotion was quick. The 
 officers had a way of talking of themselves as the 
 *' Old lllth," as though there were one or two new 
 ones about. Perhaps it was necessary to remind 
 outsiders of the age. It generally is among regi- 
 ments of this type. And they are not a few. 
 
 There were only two occupants of the long mess- 
 room. They were eating their breakfast. They 
 were both in mufti, for it was Thursday, the 
 Indian military holiday. 
 
 The small man with an abnormally large head 
 and disproportionately thin legs, clad in riding- 
 breeches and gaiters, was Mr. Montague Aber- 
 erombie Norton-Crawford, a lieutenant of about 
 four years standing. He was the natural product 
 of over-civilization, some generations of dissipation 
 and an age of competitive examinations. He was 
 the emulator, admirer, and recognised pal of Captain 
 Wortley Dampier. He could ride under 8 st. 8 lbs., 
 which he sometimes did with much profit to 
 Dampier and to himself. Captain Dampier had
 
 The Holy Estate. 27 
 
 taken him in hand about two years previously, and 
 taught him how to ride a race with advantage to 
 himself, and now he was in all respects an apt 
 disciple. His language was like his face, coarse 
 and unpleasant, and he was better known among 
 his friends as " The Vulgar Fraction." 
 
 The other man was a contrast in every respect. 
 A tall, well-knit figure, with a pleasant, open face ; 
 rather more serious and reserved than is usual for 
 a man of his years, but, withal, good to look upon. 
 He was the senior subaltern in the regiment, but 
 he had not belonged to it long. He had done ex- 
 cellent service and was considered a thorough 
 soldier, one who would not be found wanting when 
 the occasion should arise. He was not a rich man 
 by any means, but he was looked upon as a man 
 with possible expectations. Expectations, how- 
 ever, when remote, are as nothing to a surplus of 
 ready cash — a sure passport to popularity in a regi- 
 ment as elsewhere, Kenneth Gorinof was not a 
 strictly popular man in his regiment. He was too 
 quiet and reserved for one thing, he had little 
 money for another. Nevertheless he was talked of 
 as "a very good chap all round," which for once 
 was true. He and Dampier were not great friends
 
 28 The Holy Estate. 
 
 — the latter did not understand him, and dubbed 
 him " ass " accordingly. 
 
 Goring never said what he thought of Dampier ; 
 perhaps it was unnecessary. 
 
 " Taking the horses round the course this morn- 
 ing ? " asked Goring, sipping his coffee. 
 
 " Only Catseye," replied Norton- Crawford. " I 
 have been taking her quietly over the fences. 
 Dampier has been giving me a lead. She funks 
 that water-jump a bit. She is an awful devil ; 
 they ought to have called her Jezebel." 
 
 " Do you think she'll win ? " 
 
 "I really can't say. Your money is always in 
 the air in a steeple-chase, you know." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it is," rejoined Goring, signifi- 
 cantly. " As far as I can see, your money is equally 
 in the air, whether it is on the flat or over fences. 
 I may be wrong, but that is my impression." 
 
 " You are wrong. On the flat, the fastest horse 
 wins, provided he has a decent man on his back 
 and—" 
 
 " Provided his owner has half of him in the 
 lottery, and stands to win with the bookie as well," 
 put in Goring, drily. 
 
 " Well, there is something in what you say,"
 
 The Holy Estate, 29 
 
 laughed the other. " Why not ? Why should an 
 owner go to the expense of training and entering a 
 horse for some fool to make money over ? " 
 
 " A remarkably sharp man, hardly a fool." 
 
 " Well, no one can accuse Dampier of not run- 
 ning his horses straight, at all events. His animals 
 are not always in form. How can you expect 
 them to be in this cursed country ? — naturally 
 they get beaten sometimes when they are ex- 
 pected to win. But that all comes in the day's 
 work in racing." 
 
 " Yes, it generally does." 
 
 " Dampier said he was coming over here to 
 breakfast. Ah ! here he is." 
 
 " Well, old chap ; you've turned up at last." 
 
 " Mornin', Goring. Been playing golf, as usual ? " 
 asked Dampier with a half -concealed sneer, as he 
 seated himself. " Teg lao ! " 
 
 " Yes," replied Goring, ignoring the sneer. " How 
 is Mrs. Dampier ? " 
 
 "Oh, she's pretty fit, but the kid's a bit off 
 colour. Hi ! Abdullah, when, in the name of 
 Jehannam, are you going to bring me that whisky- 
 peg?" 
 
 " You are dining at Mess to-night, Dampier, I
 
 30 The Holy Estate, 
 
 suppose, before going to the lotteries ? " said Norton- 
 Crawford. 
 
 " Why, certainly my boy. If you are not doing 
 anything this afternoon you'd better come across. 
 I want to have a talk with you." 
 
 " All right, I'll tumble over," replied Crawford. 
 " I hope that wild cat Catseye does not make 
 a mistake over that * on and off ' to-morrow." 
 
 " That depends," said Dampier under his breath. 
 
 " She seemed to take it fairly kindly this morn- 
 ing," he replied in a louder tone ; " but one never 
 knows how the brutes will go when you want 
 them. Are you coming to polo this afternoon. 
 Goring ? " he asked, as Goring rose to go. 
 
 " Well, no ; I'm going for a ride. I thought, 
 too, of dropping in to have a chat with Mrs. 
 Dampier." 
 
 " She'll be glad to see j^ou," said Dampier, as the 
 other left the room. 
 
 "She is always glad to see that sort of idiot," 
 he continued in a soiio voce to his friend when the 
 purdah had dropped behind Goring. " Now, my boy, 
 you must come over this afternoon, and we will have 
 a talk about the lotteries to-nio^ht. Don't foriret." 
 
 CD O 
 
 Goring shared a small bungalow with another
 
 The Holy Estate. 31 
 
 subaltern named Davenport. It bordered on the 
 Mess compound. A dry, stunted hedge separated 
 the two. The bungalow was of the ordinary dirty 
 bluish colour. In front lay the usual little plot of 
 dried-up grass, surrounded by a straggling hedge, 
 which bordered on a circular, ill-kept drive. The 
 porch had half the plaster knocked off the lower 
 extremities of its pillars from the constant and 
 rough contact of carriage wheels. Behind lay tlie 
 stables. Four polo ponies and one raw-boned 
 waler stuck out their heads between the thick 
 bamboo bars, tightly roped up. They were gazing 
 idly at the mysterious rites of curry-grinding, 
 which were being performed by the syces' wives. 
 A bearer was squatting in the sun on the threshold 
 of his mud dwelling, discussing with one of the 
 syces the price of rice and the character of his 
 master, as they passed the evil-smelling hugga to 
 one another. Another syce, seated on a charpoy 
 close by, was investigating the contents of bis long, 
 greas}^ hair, and contributing an occasional grunt 
 to the conversation of the other two ; a conversa- 
 tion which largely consisted of grunts and strange, 
 horrible noises, only to be heard in the domestic 
 region of an Indian bungalow.
 
 32 The Holy Estate. 
 
 "Bear-er-r!" 
 
 "Sahib!" 
 
 Immediately the hugga was pushed into the 
 corner behind the door, and the syces seized their 
 brooms and anathematised the ancestors of the 
 ponies in loud, voluble tones, as they swept out the 
 stables. 
 
 " Is that you, Goring ? " shouted a voice from one 
 of the back rooms of the interior. 
 
 " Yes, you lazy devil ; aren't you up yet. I've 
 just come back from breakfast. You must have a 
 sweet head after last night," called out Goring, 
 striding into the large bare room that opened out 
 on to the verandah. 
 
 Three large, long-armed chairs, two small teapoys, 
 were all the furniture it contained. In one of the 
 corners stood a bundle of golfing clubs, while 
 round the bare, white-washed wall hung a long 
 row of polo sticks, handles down, with bottles 
 attached to keep them from warping. A set of 
 boxing-gloves, a pair of foils, two masks and 
 jackets carelessly thrown into a corner, and some 
 crops and whips, completed the equipment. It was 
 the room in which the two men lived. They slept 
 in the two bedrooms that opened out from the
 
 The Holy Estate. 33 
 
 general " sitting-room," as they were pleased to call 
 it. 
 
 The folding doors of one of the bedrooms were 
 pushed open, and a man appeared. He looked as if 
 he ^yas not quite awake yet. His eyelids were red 
 and swollen, and gave a melancholy though comic 
 expression to an ugly face, surmounted by a shock 
 of ruffled red hair. 
 
 "You had better order a pony and go for a 
 gallop round the course," said Goring laughingly. 
 
 " I shall do nothing of the kind," replied 
 the other, with absurd gravity, and, raising his 
 voice, he shouted, " Bo-y ! " with great vehem* 
 ence. 
 
 An English-speaking servant from the southern 
 province abruptly made his appearance. 
 
 " Go and get ready some mulligatawny soup, hot, 
 and some grilled bones, — Thursday breakfast — with 
 plenty of red pepper, tobasco sauce — chel I " 
 
 The " boy " disappeared from the room as 
 abruptly as he had come, and left the two alone. 
 
 " Well, I'm off to have my tub. Shall be back 
 presently." 
 
 Davenport disappeared. There was a great 
 noise of splashing of water from one of the back 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 The Holy Estate. 
 
 rooms, followed by an interval of silence ; then he 
 reappeared, clothed, in his right mind, and in 
 uniform. 
 
 " I say, old man," he cried, " what the devil shall 
 I do ? I have only just remembered that I am 
 orderly officer for to-day, and that infernal boy 
 never woke me up. I have missed ' rations,' and 
 ' guard-mounting,' and all the rest of it. Damna- 
 tion ! ril kill that boy when I get hold of him." 
 
 " It's all right, old chap; you needn't alarm your- 
 self. I heard your man vainly trying to rout you 
 up this morning, and after seeing Spencer go home 
 last night " (Spencer was the adjutant), " I got 
 into uniform and went round for you myself. You 
 can make your mind easy." 
 
 " Thank God ! " he exclaimed, with huge relief. 
 "It was awfully good of you — devilish good. I 
 hope I will be able to do the same for you some 
 day." 
 
 "I hope you won't," replied Goring, laughing. 
 " I ought to get my company before the year's out, 
 and then no more orderly officer for me, thank 
 heaven ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I forgot," said Davenport. " Let's 
 see,'* scratching his head ; " there's polo this after-
 
 The Holy Estate. 35 
 
 noon. I suppose you will be playing Red 
 Robin ? " 
 
 "No; I am not going to play this afternoon," 
 answered Goring. " I'm going to look up Mrs. 
 Dampier, and then for a ride with Laline L'Estrange. 
 Do you want Red Robin ? Don't play more than 
 one cliucker on him." 
 
 " Thanks awfully. I'll take the greatest care of 
 him. Any news in the Pioneer this morning ? " 
 
 " No ; absolutely nothing. The whole paper is 
 full of the depreciation of that infernal rupee. I 
 met Dampier and Crawford at breakfast; they had 
 just come in from taking their, or rather his, horses 
 round the course." 
 
 " Oh ! I want the ' Fraction ' to ride for me. I 
 forgot to ask him. I suppose I shall have to toddle 
 round to his bungalow." 
 
 "If you'll take my advice, you'll do nothing of 
 the sort. That is, if you mean putting any money 
 on it — between ourselves, of course." 
 
 " Oh, I know he is supposed to be smart, and all 
 that ; but if a fellow can't trust a brother-officer, 
 whom can he trust ? " said Davenport, picking up 
 one of the neglected fencing-jackets and hanging it 
 up on a nail.
 
 36 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " In racing, as no doubt you will find out before 
 long — you ought to have found out before — you 
 can't trust your own father or brother. Get the 
 ' Fraction ' to ride, if you like ; but find out which 
 pony Dampier has his money on. There's not 
 much honour in racing, not even among the thieves, 
 and they are many. When you are minus some 
 hundreds of rupees, 3'ou'll probably realise it. 
 However, your mone}'' may as well go into Dam- 
 pier's pocket as into anyone else's, for that matter." 
 
 Davenport took the lecture good-humouredly. 
 He knew that Goring meant well, but his ideas of 
 honour were absurdly Quixotic for the ethics of 
 Indian racing. Besides which, he had a bad head- 
 ache and a consuming thirst, and therefore didn't 
 pay much heed. 
 
 "I'll remember what you say, old chap, never 
 fear. Now, I think I'll toddle across to the Mess 
 and try to pick a bit. Well, ta-ta," and sticking 
 his helmet well on the back of his head, the guile- 
 less youth sauntered out into the sunshine, whist- 
 ling one of the last imported music-hall ditties all 
 out of tune. 
 
 When he had gone, Goring threw himself back 
 in one of the chairs, and lost himself in a day-
 
 The Holy Estate. 37 
 
 dream. He sat meditatively gazing at a small 
 lizard which, strongly outlined on the white- 
 washed wall, was stealthily stalking a belated 
 moth. 
 
 A subdued deprecatory^ cough struck his ears. 
 Looking round, he saw his white-robed bearer 
 standing patiently with folded hands behind his 
 chair. 
 
 " Kya-munter, what do you want ? " 
 
 " The Sahib called." 
 
 " Did I ? — I forgot. Perhaps — well, never mind. 
 Tell Kummel the syce I want him to take a chit 
 round to the colonel sahib's bungalow. I'll write 
 it now." 
 
 When the bearer had left, he took a dainty en- 
 velope from one of the inner pockets of his coat, 
 and, carefully withdrawing the note inside it, he 
 read it through, as reverently as if it had been a 
 big cheque, — the only note most men reverence. He 
 knew every word of it by heart before, though it 
 had only arrived early that morning. 
 
 " My darling Kenneth" it said, " don't forget to 
 call for me this afternoon for our ride (" as if I 
 would forget," he muttered). Ride yoicr waler^
 
 38 The Holy Estate, 
 
 not one of your ponies, because I shall be riding 
 my uncle's second charger — the chestnut; and it 
 looks so absurd to see a huge man like you scram- 
 bling along on one of your polo ponies beside me 
 on Rufus. I have just remembered that it is polo 
 day. If you would rather play, you need not 
 come. Send me a line hy the syce, and mind he 
 gives it to the ayah carefully. He is such a fool, 
 that syce of yours — Ever your loving 
 
 " Laline." 
 
 He kissed the note — he was such a fool — and re- 
 placed it tenderly in his pocket. Then he smiled a 
 little grimly, and muttered : — 
 
 " Yes, she is quite right; that syce is a fool. For 
 the matter of that, all natives are, and most white 
 men too. Why on earth Laline wants to keep up 
 all this mystery I can't understand ! " He got up, 
 and went into his bedroom. " It seems playing it 
 rather low down on the old colonel. Well, I sup- 
 pose, she knows best." 
 
 Kenneth Goring was at the bottom a thoroughly 
 sensible, level-headed fellow, but he had one weak- 
 ness. Like many other strong and sensible men
 
 The Holy Estate. 39 
 
 he did not hesitate to give way to this weakness 
 and cherish it, all the more because it was only 
 one. His weakness was that very fascinating 
 young lady, Laline L'Estrange. She was the niece 
 of old Plunkett-Potter, his colonel, or rather of 
 that wonderful and fearfully made woman, Mrs. 
 Plunkett-Potter, his wife, the de facto colonel of 
 the regiment, who had " exploited " her fair niece 
 to India from the wilds of Ireland. 
 
 Goring enjoyed giving way to his weakness, the 
 weakness a healthy youth calls love when the 
 object is a woman of his own rank, but an uglier 
 name if she be socially beneath him. He really 
 loved Laline, and hoped to cherish her some day. 
 But she was hardly the sort of young woman who 
 inspires that dainty platonic emotion miscalled 
 " love," in which the old lady (not the new woman) 
 novelist delights. 
 
 *• Let me see," he ruminated, squaring his elbows 
 and seating himself at the small writing-table. 
 "I'll run over to Mrs. Dampier at four, and have 
 the ' gee ' brought round then. Yes, that will do. 
 Now for the note." 
 
 The note must have been something quite out of 
 tjie ordinary run, for many sheets of note-paper
 
 40 The Holy Estate. 
 
 were torn up during its composition. But then 
 writing letters was not in Goring's line. When at 
 last it was finished, he looked at it doubtfully for 
 some time before he put it in the envelope. The 
 curious part of the whole business was that it only 
 consisted of some half a dozen lines. 
 
 What a fool a man can be when he's taken this 
 way.
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 The impression which would have struck a stranger, 
 at least an average stranger, on going into the 
 Dampier's drawing-room, and seeing the fair hos- 
 tess thereof, would be a general sense of purity and 
 refinement. And this impression would not be 
 wrong, for the quality of refinement was innate in 
 Madeleine Dampier. It was evidenced in her 
 voice, gestures, and manner, in her dress and every- 
 thing about her, and most of all in her gentle and 
 almost child-like face. It always would be there, 
 in spite of everything she had gone through, and 
 in spite of everything she might have to go through. 
 It could never be effaced. It was as much a part 
 of her as were her eyes, or her hands, or her feet. 
 A woman can generally be judged by the atmo- 
 sphere in which she surrounds herself. Mrs. Dam- 
 pier's room was always full of fresh flowers; there 
 was a nice sense of the beautiful in the folds of the 
 many draperies and phulkaries which form such a 
 
 large part of the furniture of an Anglo-Indian 
 
 4^
 
 42 The Holy Estate. 
 
 drawing-room, in the few pictures that hung on the 
 walls, inexpensive, but all in good taste, in the little 
 knick-knacks that were scattered about. Every- 
 thing was in harmony. 
 
 This room was Madeleine's pleasure and pride. 
 Here she read, or worked, or played with her child 
 when she had leisure. Here she passed most of the 
 interminable hours of the long, long Indian day. 
 Here she often waited and watched, while the night 
 dragged out its weary length, and the stillness was 
 only broken by the slow tramp of the watchman 
 — waited for the return of her belated husband, 
 who generally spent the best part of the night 
 turning his brilliant talents to " poker " and " loo." 
 She held old-fashioned views, absolutely ludicrous 
 in these days of " advanced " ideas and " emanci- 
 pated " womanhood, of what she considered to be a 
 wife's duty to her husband. She was really most 
 out-of-date in her ideas on many things, and, 
 despite her four years' training in India, quite un- 
 versed in that revised version of the seventh 
 commandment which found so much favour in the 
 eyes of the women of her acquaintance. Poor 
 little woman, she suffered accordingly ! However, 
 with the faith that is born of ignorance and
 
 The Holy Estate, 43 
 
 possibly of something higher, she struggled on in 
 what, to her mind, was the state of life in which it 
 had pleased Providence to call her. It never struck 
 her that possibly Providence had very little to do 
 with it. Poor Providence, what sins are suffered in 
 thy name ! 
 
 Madeleine was just now awaiting the visit of her 
 friend, Kenneth Goring. It is possible occasionally 
 for a woman to have a friend of the other sex, and 
 such friendship is generally safe when the man is 
 in love with some other woman. But a man loves 
 in different ways, and it is quite on the cards that 
 he may be in love with two women at the same 
 time and not know it. Mrs. Dampier had always 
 liked Goring, and the link which bound them to- 
 gether was not of the usual type of Anglo-Indian 
 "friendships." It would have been difficult to 
 associate anything of that kind with Madeleine. 
 
 She lay back in a pretty bent-wood chair, drawn 
 up alongside of one of the folding glass doors. A 
 gentle breeze fluttered the lace curtains, and bore 
 on its breath a faint scent of the roses clustering 
 outside. Her face still had on it the anxious look 
 which it had worn in the morning. But her eyes 
 brightened when she saw a familiar and stalwart
 
 44 The Holy Estate. 
 
 figure coming up the garden path dressed in rid- 
 ing kit, and gaily swinging his crop. 
 
 Goring caught sight of her, and came across to 
 where she was seated. 
 
 " I was half afraid that you might be sleeping," 
 he exclaimed, "but I am rejoiced to find that I 
 shall be allowed to have a chat with you after 
 all." 
 
 She gave him her hand with a bright smile. He 
 laid his sun hat and his crop on the ground, and 
 drew a chair near her. 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear that little Lena is a bit ' off 
 colour,' as Captain Dampier described it." 
 
 " I'm afraid she is very ill. I only left her 
 a little time ago ; she seemed then to be sleeping 
 quietly. I told the ayah to come and tell me 
 when she awakes. I can't help feeling nervous 
 about her, she is so feverish. Dr. Clayton has been 
 here twice to-day ; but of course he will not tell me 
 anything." 
 
 She gave a little helpless sigh, and looked beyond 
 him at the garden. 
 
 " I hope you are not worrying yourself too much, 
 and I hope it is nothing serious," replied Goring 
 sympathetically. But as he looked into the young
 
 The Holy Estate. 45 
 
 mother's troubled face, he thought what a brute 
 her husband was. 
 
 " It does seem cruel that the poor child should 
 have to suffer like this," Mrs. Dampier murmured, 
 as if unconsciously uttering her thoughts aloud, 
 her eyes filling with tears. " But, Mr. Goring, why 
 should I pour out all my woes to you like this? " 
 she continued with forced cheerfulness. *• Let us 
 talk of something else. We'll have tea presently, 
 and meanwhile you must tell me all you have been 
 doing. Did you see my husband at the Mess ? 
 He has not come back since the morning, and I 
 think he has some stupid Court of Inquiry or Court 
 Martial. It is a shame to keep him away like this. 
 I have sent over twice to him, and he has sent back 
 word that he is too busy to come." 
 
 Goring did not say tbat he had only half an hour 
 before left Captain Dampier in the Mess billiard- 
 room with a big cigar in his mouth and a strong 
 ' peg ' half finished on the mantelpiece, playing 
 " 200 up " with Norton-Crawford for drinks. He 
 thought that if any fellow deserved a good kicking 
 it was Captain Dampier, and that he himself would 
 like to administer it. But he kept his counsel, and 
 said reassuringly, —
 
 4^ The Holy Estate. 
 
 " I'm afraid Captain Dampier is rather busy to- 
 day, but he's sure to be back presently. I saw his 
 name down for polo." 
 
 " I see you are going to play," she said, looking 
 down at his boots. She vaguely felt that Goring 
 was excusing her husband, and though she knew 
 he was doing it to save her pain, it hurt her. It 
 was degrading that it should be necessary for any- 
 one to lie to her about her husband. And Goring 
 was a wretchedly poor liar, which made matters 
 worse. 
 
 "No; I am going for a ride with Miss L'Estrange 
 instead," he answered, " although it is polo day. 
 You see I can be fairly sure of polo twice a week, 
 and I can't be so sure of Miss L'Estrange. No ; what 
 I meant to say," he continued confusedly, " is that 
 I would much rather go out for a ride with Lal^ 
 Miss L'Estrange, than play polo." 
 
 " I thought you were keen on polo. You used to 
 say there was nothing like it in the world." 
 
 "Neither is there — in its way," he replied 
 eagerly ; " but I — " 
 
 Mrs. Dampier laughed. 
 
 " Well, I won't pry into your secret. Perhaps 
 you will tell me some day, and then — ah ! here's the
 
 The Holy Estate. 47 
 
 tea at last," she said, as Karim Bux noiselessly ap- 
 peared before one of the curtains. 
 
 " I wish you'd tell me — that is, if you don't 
 mind," Goring said presently, nervously stirring 
 his tea, his eyes fixed on the sugar basin, " why it 
 is you don't like — I mean, why it is you don't get 
 on with Miss L'Estrange. ? I want you to know 
 each other better. That is why I ask." 
 
 It was a stupid question ; a man who had more 
 knowledge of women would never have asked 
 it. A delicate pink flushed into Madeleine's face. 
 She was silent for some seconds, and leant back 
 thoughtfully in her chair. She saw, or thought 
 she saw, what was passing through Goring's mind. 
 She knew that if she said what she really thought 
 about Laline L'Estrange, it would not in any way 
 affect Goring's opinion of that lady, while, on the 
 other hand, it would surely hurt him, and might 
 possibly cause an estrangement between him and 
 herself. So she answered vaguely, — 
 
 " I am very slow at making friends. No doubt 
 it is my fault. I don't think Miss L'Estrange quite 
 likes me. No doubt she can be very sweet and 
 charming when she likes — but I'm not a man, you 
 know." Then as if to make amends for this rather
 
 48 The Holy Estate, 
 
 nasty bit, she added, " About her good looks there 
 can be no question ; to see her mounted on a horse 
 is a picture. Men say that one woman never ad- 
 mires another, but I admire Miss L'Estrange im- 
 mensely — on horseback." 
 
 She tried to work some enthusiasm into her sub- 
 ject. Goring saw that she was evading his question 
 and forebore to press it. 
 
 " All the fellows rave about her and hang round 
 her wherever she goes, and men are always good 
 judges," he replied defensively " especially of 
 women they'd like to marry." 
 
 " Come — come — I thought you were ver}^ strong 
 in your views about marriage, or rather against 
 marriage, for young army men ? " Madeleine said, 
 rallying him with a laugh. " Was it not you I 
 heard say some time back that Government ought 
 to make it a rule that young officers should 
 not marry, and that their being married always 
 had a pernicious effect on them when * on service ' ? 
 In fact, you said it spoilt them. But I am afraid, 
 like the application of all theories, this one breaks 
 down when applied personally. Come, confess 
 now." 
 
 " In most cases, of course ; but there are always
 
 TJie Holy Estate. 49 
 
 exceptions, you know," he answered, getting very 
 red and looking down at his boots. "Have you 
 heard the latest news ? " he asked, abruptly chang- 
 ing the subject. " I heard it at the club this 
 morning — everyone was talking about it — Mrs. 
 RadclifFe has run off with Captain Grantham. I 
 am hardly surprised at her bolting ; RadclifFe used 
 to treat her abominably. It serves him right. 
 She was such a pretty little woman too." 
 
 " I am afraid that last consideration goes a long 
 way in forming men's judgment in such cases," 
 said Mrs. Dampier doubtfully. " If she had a 
 squint, for instance, it would have been differ- 
 ent." 
 
 " If Cleopatra's nose had been an inch shorter, 
 the history of the world would have been changed," 
 quoted Goring gaily. " Men don't, as a rule, go 
 mad over w^omen who squint, though I have read 
 that Mary Stuart had one. But as for Mrs. 
 Radcliffe, it's a wonder to me that she didn't run 
 away before." 
 
 " It's not for me to judge her. We hear of the 
 fall ; of the inward struggle against temptation, 
 we neither hear nor know. But it's a terrible 
 thing, all the same. My views are perhaps out of 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 Tlie Holy Estate. 
 
 date, but I hold them strongly. I cannot imagine 
 how any woman with a particle of religion — leaving 
 honour and everything else a woman should value 
 out of the question — can bring herself to take such 
 a false step. I look upon marriage as a sacrament, 
 and solemn vows are not lightly to be put aside. 
 But," she broke off, with a little laugh, " I don't 
 want to preach to you. Let me give you another 
 cup of tea, and we'll change the subject. After all, 
 it's hardly a suitable one for us to discuss. I don't 
 know what makes me talk to you so freely. I 
 think you must exercise some sort of occult influ- 
 ence over me." 
 
 " I rejoice to hear it," he answered, taking the 
 cup from her hand, " and I take the hint. We will 
 talk about something else. I suppose men and 
 women think differently on these things — mine is 
 the man's view ; yours is the woman's — that's the 
 difference." 
 
 At that moment there was a sound of footsteps 
 on the gravel path outside. 
 
 " Ah, here's my husband at last," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Dampier, rising. " I must warn him not to wake 
 Lena." 
 
 But before she could stop him, a loud voice
 
 The Holy Estate. 51 
 
 cried, " Hi, Bearer — peg ! " and Captain Dam- 
 pier, in a very bad temper, stamped into the 
 room. 
 
 " Ssh-h-h ! " said Mrs. Dampier softly. 
 
 He was about to retort something unfitted for 
 ears polite, when he caught sight of Goring. 
 
 " Having tea as usual, I see," he exclaimed, with 
 a nod to Goring, and flinging himself into a chair. 
 " The way women lap down tea is positively dis- 
 gusting. I wonder when that lazy devil is going 
 to bring my peg ? '' 
 
 " Have you finished your work, Wortley ? " 
 asked his wife, breaking an uncomfortable pause. 
 
 Dampier looked suspiciously at Goring and then 
 at his wife. But seeing that she spoke in good 
 faith, he answered with a grin, — 
 
 " Yes, and a precious tough job it was. I think 
 Government ought to be hanged for working 
 us so hard. The army used to be tlie profession 
 of a gentleman, but now it's as bad as any common 
 or garden trade." 
 
 " Which, being translated, means that we have 
 to earn our pay, I suppose ? " put in Goring 
 tentatively. 
 
 " Pay ! " retorted the captain scornfully ; " do 
 
 5S>^onv.u«°«
 
 52 The Holy Estate. 
 
 you call it ' pay ' ? If I had only my pay to de- 
 pend upon, I wonder where I should be, let alone 
 the wife and family. I'm afraid — very much 
 afraid that — ah ! here's my peg." 
 
 " By the way, how's the hutcha ? '' he asked in- 
 differently, lighting a cheroot. Then he shouted 
 to the bearer again — for his kit this time. 
 
 " Lena is asleep, and I wish you would not make 
 such a noise," again repeated Mrs. Dampier. 
 
 '' All right ; don't nag. I am off to polo as soon 
 as I can get my kit on. You are not playing to- 
 day. Goring ? Well, ta-ta, I must be off." 
 
 His heavy steps could be heard retreating down 
 the corridor, and then a door slammed violently. 
 
 There was a little cry from an adjoining room. 
 Madeleine sprang up. 
 
 " I was afraid he would do that," she said. " He 
 has awakened Lena. I must leave you for a few 
 minutes. Will you excuse me ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Goring, who had risen. " I 
 too must be going. I hope little Lena will soon be 
 better." 
 
 She was so eager to be gone that she scarcely 
 paused to hear what he was saying. The curtains 
 in front of the doorway fell behind her, leaving
 
 The Holy Estate. 53 
 
 Goring alone before his sentence was finished. 
 He stood for a moment in thought. Then with an 
 expressive shrug of the shoulders, he took up his 
 hat and crop and, stepping through the verandah, 
 walked down the road to where his horse was 
 waiting for him. He mounted, and rode slowly 
 towards the Plunkett-Potters' buncfalow.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Laline L'Estrange was essentially a woman of 
 points. If she had been a horse she would have 
 been described as " a rippin' filly." She was cer- 
 tainly a woman whose charms men never tired of 
 discussing. Where other women more beautiful 
 than herself would be silently admired, she was 
 openly commented upon. 
 
 Her beauty was not of the kind which is born to 
 blush unseen, and hers was a style which provoked 
 admiration. She was tall, with a magnificent bust 
 and a slender waist — rather too slender, perchance 
 for perfect proportion. She moved with a sinuous 
 grace seldom seen outside a hasquina. The beauty 
 of her face was concentrated in her splendid eyes, 
 dark as night, which at one moment would sparkle 
 and flash like the light on a facet of a gem, and, at 
 another, would fill with sensuous languor. Other- 
 wise her features would hardly square with classic 
 canons of beauty. Her nose was too tip- tilted, her 
 
 mouth a trifle too large. But her lips were full and 
 
 54
 
 The Holy Estate. 55 
 
 red, and her teeth of dazzling whiteness. She was, 
 in short, a splendid animal. 
 
 Laline had been out in India just a year, and her 
 friends and acquaintances (synonymous terms) often 
 wondered why she hadn't " got off" before. 
 
 It was certainly not for lack of opportunity. 
 Had not Lord and Lady Lochsporran taken her up 
 to begin with ? Had she not the advantage of Mrs. 
 Potter's matchless campaigning ? Did not young 
 Dodderell of the Hussars make such a fool of liim- 
 self about her that his colonel had to send him 
 home on a year's leave ? Was there not that 
 absurd row in the mess-room between Green and 
 Kays of the 115th, which nearly led to a court 
 martial ? Wherever she went she left a trail of 
 devastation behind her. When she went up to 
 Murree, for instance, for the hot weather, she 
 managed to turn that Hill station upside down, at 
 least the male portion of it. All the women felt 
 relieved when the cold weather set in, for no one 
 knew what would happen next. The women in a 
 body hated her — the married women because they 
 never felt easy for a second when their husbands 
 were with her, and the unmarried ones because her 
 fascinations were a personal affront to them. All
 
 56 The Holy Estate. 
 
 sorts of vague slanders floated around her ; every- 
 one repeated them, but no one really believed them. 
 The only man to whom she had attached to herself 
 for any length of time was Goring, and there were 
 several bets pending as to when she would cast 
 him off, like his predecessors. 
 
 " What on earth can she see in him ? " the men 
 would query. " What on earth can he see in her ? " 
 the women would say. Yet the fact remained, she 
 still held him. " She'll chuck him over like an old 
 boot presently, you bet," said the men. " She will 
 never marry, and she will surely do something 
 dreadful some day," the women would repeat to 
 each other, and sigh, — not at the thought of a 
 possible slip, but for fear that their prophecy might 
 not be realised. It would make such a spicy 
 paragraph in the FioneeVy if only it would come to 
 pass. 
 
 But, in spite of all, Laline went her own sweet 
 way, and took no more notice of the murmurs 
 around her than the buzzing of the mosquitoes. 
 She knew what she was doing, — no one better ; she 
 was the last person to let her head be guided by 
 her heart. She had allowed herself to become 
 secretly engaged to Goring, because s]:!e saw that it
 
 The Holy Estate. 57 
 
 was the only way of keeping him to herself ; be- 
 sides which, there was an element of romance in it 
 which she liked. In her way she was really fond 
 of him. He was a fine fellow. He appealed to 
 her senses. His passion gave her pleasure and 
 gratified her vanity, for Goring was not quite the 
 same as ces autres. As to marrying him — that was 
 out of the question. Once or twice she had 
 pictured herself as the wife of a subaltern in a 
 marching regiment, and laughed. She laughed 
 very prettily. 
 
 Many people wondered why she had found it 
 necessary to come out to India. The truth w^as 
 that she never had a fair chance of getting a 
 husband at home. Her father, an impecunious 
 Irish landlord, had never been able to give her even 
 the average opportunities. So her aunt's offer to 
 exploit her was a God-send, and one of which she 
 eagerly availed herself. Mrs. Potter and Laline 
 got on very well, and understood one another per- 
 fectly. There was little of the duenna about Mrs. 
 Potter, and there was nothing of the prude about 
 Laline. She was discreetly blind to her aunt's 
 little affaires. The elder lady repaid her by 
 letting her do as she pleased. The old colonel sat
 
 58 The Eoly Estate. 
 
 squarely in his chair and saw nothing. It was not 
 intended that he should see anything, and like a 
 wise man he forbore to inquire. The secret of a 
 happy life consists in not knowing too much — at 
 least, of a happy married life. 
 
 It was a perfect evening for a ride. The heat of 
 the sun was over and gone ; the noon-day glare is 
 great even in winter in India. A little breeze had 
 sprung up, and the sun was dropping slowly behind 
 the row of trees that skirted the compound of the 
 Potters' bungalow. Miss L'Estrange was ready for 
 her ride. Every line and curve of her perfect 
 figure was revealed by her close-fitting habit. As 
 she stood there, framed between the thick white- 
 washed pillars of the verandah, pointing, with out- 
 stretched arm and dainty whip, to some defect in 
 the saddling of her horse, she would have served 
 as a study for a modern Diana, or for a living 
 picture at the Empire — one to which even prowling 
 prudes could not object. 
 
 While she was posing thus, Goring rode at a 
 quiet walk round the carriage drive, and caught 
 sight of her. She had fully intended that he 
 should do so. But it must have been instinct that
 
 The Holy Estate. 59 
 
 told her he was coming, for the thick dust on the 
 side of the drive muffled the sound of his horse's 
 hoofs. He involuntarily pulled up his horse, and 
 gazed in admiration. The picture did not last 
 long, for Laline lifted her eyes with a pretty 
 affectation of "surprise, and saw him sitting there 
 motionless. A pleased smile of gratified vanity 
 flashed across her face. 
 
 " I'm not late ? " he said half apologetically, con- 
 sulting his watch as he reined up at the edge of 
 the verandah. 
 
 " Oh ! no," she replied, with easy indifference, 
 "you are up to time; only I thought you would 
 come before the time, as you were going out with 
 me, and so I came out in anticipation." 
 
 She would frequently, with malice prepensey give 
 herself away in this manner. It amused her to 
 watch his look of perplexity as he tried to frame 
 some clumsy reply. 
 
 " I wanted, and intended to come before the time," 
 he replied confusedly, '* but — " 
 
 " Yea." 
 
 " But — but I thought that if I came too early, I 
 should have to go inside, and fall a prey to Mrs. 
 Potter. Then I should have been done out of a part
 
 6o The Holy Estate. 
 
 of my time with you. You know, Lalinc," he con- 
 tinued, lowering his voice, "that I grudge every 
 minute not spent alone with j^ou." 
 
 " I know that is what you say — you all say it," 
 she replied flippantly, and she moved towards the 
 square mounting-block at the corner of the bunga- 
 low. 
 
 " No ; let me," he cried, dismounting rapidly, as 
 the impassive syce held his horse; " no one can mount 
 you like I can." 
 
 She stood for a minute by her horse's side, and 
 placing her foot in his hand, swung lightly into the 
 saddle. 
 
 " Yes, you do it very nicely," she said, gathering 
 up the reins. " Thanks ; I think my habit sits all 
 right now. Come, let us be off." 
 
 She promptly suited the action to the word, and 
 started off at a rapid trot. 
 
 " Go and wait at the bandstand," Goring said to 
 the syce in Hindustani. He put his horse into a 
 canter, and caught up his companion, Avho was 
 already out to the compound gate. 
 
 " Come, we will go for a spin till we get out into 
 the country," she cried, setting her horse going. 
 
 They galloped along side by side, leaving a long
 
 The Holy Estate. 6 1 
 
 swirl of dust behind them, past the barracks and 
 hospital, which gleamed square and white in the 
 bright rays of the sinking sun. They skirted the 
 race-course until they came out into the open 
 country. A great, broad plain stretched beyond 
 them, covered with fields, and dotted here and there 
 with little mud hamlets and clumps of trees, while 
 far away, behind them, lay the cantonments. 
 
 " Now I think we can go quietly," she cried, 
 steadying her horse down to a walk. 
 
 Her face was flushed with the recent exercise, and 
 her great eyes sparkled with excitement. 
 
 " We are close to the old place," she continued, 
 " and we will dismount. I like to have you with 
 me like this, Kenneth, all away from everybody — 
 where no one can see us. We are just coming to 
 the well. You can tie up the ' gees,' and we will 
 have a quiet talk. Afterwards we will ride on to 
 the gardens, and listen to the band, and be quite 
 proper and sedate, so that all the old hens round the 
 bandstand may not be able to cackle, and peck at 
 my reputation — but they will, all the same ! Ah ! 
 here we are." 
 
 Just off the road lay a thick clump of huge trees, 
 with their branches all clustering together over-
 
 62 The Holy Estate. 
 
 head. In the centre, where the sun seldom pene- 
 trated, lay an old disused well, with a low wall 
 running around it. 
 
 Here they dismounted. 
 
 They sat side by side on the broad low wall of 
 the well. They were quite alone, hidden from the 
 sight of man— and, what was more important, 
 woman — by the dense shrubs and trees around 
 them. Here and there tin}^ glints of golden sun- 
 light flickered in through the leafy tangle overhead, 
 and one narrow shaft slanted down and lighted on 
 Laline's head like an aureole. Saints haven't a 
 monopoly of aureoles ; sinners often wear them too. 
 
 " You are very dull and solemn to-day, my knight 
 of the woeful countenance," she pouted, raising her 
 head and looking into his face. The aureole got in 
 her eyes and made her blink. " Feste ! Let us shift 
 a little to get out of this glare." When they had 
 subsided again, " Come, tell me what's wrong," she 
 added coaxingly. 
 
 He kissed her before replying. 
 
 " There's nothing wrong," he said; " at least, no- 
 thing more than usual. The fact is, I hate all this 
 concealment. It's unnecessary, and, besides, is hardly 
 fair on the old colonel, Laline dear, he trusts you so
 
 The Holy Estate. 6^, 
 
 implicitly with me. And it seems rather — well, 
 playing it low down on him, and on your aunt too. 
 I wish you would let me speak to them about our 
 engagement." 
 
 Laline bit her lips impatiently. She had heard 
 all this often before. 
 
 " My aunt ! " she said, with a short laugh ; " my 
 aunt and I understand one another excellently well. 
 ^yhoever heard of a man in love prosing to a girl 
 about her aunt? Why, I don't believe you love 
 me a bit ; you are much too cold-blooded to know 
 the meaning of the word!" 
 
 He flushed angrily. " Dearest," he said, " I do 
 love you ; it is because I love you that I am anxious 
 that everything between us should be open and 
 above-board. Besides, why this mystery ? Our 
 love is nothing to be ashamed of, is it ? " 
 
 She looked at him thoughtfully, and noted his 
 mood. 
 
 "Dear Kenneth," she said winningly, letting her 
 hand rest on his, " do be reasonable. I am sure the 
 colonel would not give his consent to — to there 
 being anything between us till you were — till you 
 get your company ; and — " 
 
 " I am certain to get my step in two or three
 
 64 The Holy Estate, 
 
 months " he broke in, " and surely we can be openly 
 engaged meanwhile. We need not marry just yet, 
 but everything will be straightforward." 
 
 " I hate long engagements," she replied pettishly. 
 " Everybody looks at one in such a prurient way. 
 I think engaged people always look such utter fools. 
 If they are even talking together, everyone os- 
 tentatiously moves away, as though they were say- 
 ing something improper to one another that ought 
 not to be overheard. I think formal engagements 
 are a mistake. Let us make a compromise. It is 
 only a matter of a few months — when you get your 
 step, you shall speak to the colonel, and my dear 
 aunt too, since you make a point of it, and our 
 engagement shall be formally announced. Will 
 
 that do ? " 
 
 But he still demurred. 
 
 " I don't know. I should feel more sure of you 
 
 if the thing were settled now. There would be 
 
 something tangible about it." 
 
 Laline looked at him hopelessly. Worsted in 
 
 argument, woman-like, she sought refuge in 
 
 tears. 
 
 ''You surely do not doubt my love for you 
 
 Kenneth ? " she whimpered ; " how can you speak
 
 The Holy Estate. 65 
 
 like that when you know how it hurts me ? You 
 men are all so selfish. So long as you get your 
 own way you never consider a girl's feelings." 
 
 He looked into her tearful eyes and noticed the 
 quiver at the drooping corners of her mouth. He 
 could not withstand a woman's tears. He put his 
 arm round her, and kissed her tenderly. He felt a 
 brute to do anything which made her cry. After 
 all, it was only natural that she should object to 
 being pointed at and talked about by all the old 
 cats in the station. He began to think that engage- 
 ments altogether were most improper, not to say 
 indecent. 
 
 They sat without speaking for some minutes, she 
 with her head resting on his shoulder, and he with 
 his arm around her. They indulge in sundry little 
 by-play which it is quite unnecessary to explain 
 
 in detail The fair Laline's coyness as to a 
 
 public engagement certainly did not extend to 
 caresses in private. 
 
 A little grey squirrel sat watching them at the 
 foot of a giant tree a few yards in front, and then 
 jerked up his tail and whisked up the trunk. Save 
 for the insects' drowsy hum, there was everywhere 
 a great stillness. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 The Holy Estate. 
 
 Laline placed her hand on her lover's forehead 
 with a caressing gesture, and pushed back his 
 hair. 
 
 " I wonder what it is that makes me love you so, 
 Kenneth ? " she said slowly, more to herself than to 
 him. " I wish we could always be together like 
 this — you and I." 
 
 " We shall be some day," he said tenderly, " when 
 we are married." 
 
 "When we are married!" she echoed impatiently; 
 "how matter of fact you are. Can't you see, 
 Kenneth, it is just this suspicion of stolen fruit 
 which makes our love so sweet? Wijen we have a 
 legal license to love one another there will be no 
 fun in it any more." 
 
 For all answer he kissed her on the lips. The 
 beauty of the woman lured him as it has lured man 
 ever. 
 
 " Yes; but when we are married, sweet, I shall be 
 sure of you — you will be my very own," he said 
 presently. 
 
 "Don't you be too sure of that," she rejoined 
 flippantly — then noting his sudden movement, she 
 added hastily : " Oh, no, Kenneth ! of course, I 
 don't mean that — what I mean is that all love is
 
 The Holy Estate. 6y 
 
 not encompassed by a marriage ring. You talk 
 about marriage as though it were the Alpha and 
 Omega. But in the spirit we are wed already — 
 when we first loved one another." 
 
 "H'm, yes," said Goring doubtfully. Somehow 
 he did not care for these sentiments from Laline, 
 though he sometimes indulged in them himself. 
 " That sort of thing may be all very well for a 
 marriage of the spirit; but you and I want 
 something a little more substantial, don't we ? 
 Book, bell, and parson is more in our line, isn't it ? " 
 
 " If you look at it in that light, perhaps it is," 
 said Laline, coming down from sentiment with a 
 rush ; " and the most substantial thing of all, is a good 
 balance at our bankers. Until we get that, we'd 
 better be content with the marriage of the spirit, 
 Kenneth, dear — and postpone the other part of the 
 business. That is what I have been trying to 
 impress upon you. But come, it is getting late. 
 How the time flies when we are together. We 
 must get back to the gardens, and promenade 
 round the bandstand, and watch the dear old 
 general making love to all the prettiest women 
 in the place." 
 
 She rose to go.
 
 6S The Holy Estate. 
 
 " Wait here for a minute, and I will bring round 
 the horses," said Goring, after an ineffectual effort 
 to detain her. 
 
 She watched his stalwart figure push through 
 the undergrowth and scrub, and then musingly 
 traced patterns in the dust at her feet with the 
 lash of her dainty whip. 
 
 " It does seem a pity," she murmured half aloud. 
 ** He's such a dear boy, I really believe that if I were 
 much with him I might make a fool of myself and 
 marry him in spite of all. If only he would look at 
 things in a reasonable light, and let me get married 
 to some old fogey, then we could enjoy ourselves, 
 and it would be all right. But he is not that sort 
 of man at all. He takes things too seriously. It 
 is a great pity." 
 
 There was a crashing through the branches, and 
 Goring reappeared. 
 
 " The ' gees ' are quite ready," he cried. " You are 
 looking very thoughtful, sweet one. What great 
 problem are you turning over in that busy brain of 
 yours ? " 
 
 '* The old problem of bringing one's desires into 
 harmony with one's circumstances," she answered 
 a little wearily. "It would be so much nicer if
 
 The Holy Estate. 6g 
 
 marriage were not necessary to our happi- 
 ness." 
 
 " My dear Laline," he remonstrated, " you — " 
 
 She raised her whip impatiently. 
 
 " Pray, don't lecture me," she said ; '' let me tell 
 the truth for once. Marriage, when you come to 
 think of it, is merely a matter of money — and, 
 Kenneth dear, we haven't any."
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 The silver cups and vases down the centre of 
 the mess-table shone brightly in the strong light 
 of the wall lamps, and of the numerous candles 
 which were stuck in the massive candelabra on the 
 table. 
 
 Dinner was just over, and the gallant officers of 
 the old 111th sat round the mess-table, with their 
 chairs pushed back, talking, and discussing the 
 wine and cheroots. 
 
 " Well, Dampier," said a fat major, taking his 
 cheroot out of his mouth, and blowing a great puflf 
 of smoke across the table, " you must put us up to 
 some * soft * things to-morrow. Seems to be a very 
 good programme for to-morrow's racing." 
 
 " Very good," replied Dampier, looking up from 
 the lower end of the table, where he was engaged 
 in deep conversation with Norton-Crawford. "There 
 are a wonderful even lot in each race, so that 
 ' spotting the winner ' will be attended with a cer- 
 tain amount of difficulty. I hear that Kilkenny has 
 
 70
 
 The Holy Estate. 71 
 
 turned up to look after his string, so the lotteries 
 ought to be pretty warm to-night." 
 
 One of the most popular men in India was Lord 
 Kilkenny. He was an impecunious Irish peer 
 (not a representative peer) with big estates on the 
 west coast of Ireland, which he never visited, and 
 little rents which he seldom saw. His official occu- 
 pation in India was aide-de-camp to the Viceroy, 
 but his ample leisure was devoted to the farm- 
 ing of rajahs, and teaching them the art of Home 
 racing. It was occasionally attended by a good 
 deal of expense — to the rajahs — but, after all, it was 
 only fitting that they should shell out, for they 
 were being civilised and taught how to be " sports- 
 men," and no one could teach them better than 
 Lord Kilkenny. He would buy their horses for 
 them, train them for them, and run them for them, 
 and sometimes ride them for them, when it was 
 necessary, and then he would return them. As a 
 bee flits from flower to flower, so did Lord Kil- 
 kenny flit from rajah to raja)]. 
 
 The particular blossom on which he was 
 now engaged was His Highness the Maharajah 
 of Kutchpawani, whose horses were included in 
 Lord Kilkenny's string. The stewards of the vari-
 
 72 The Holy Estate. 
 
 ous meetings not infrequently found a difficulty in 
 separating the youthful maharajah's horses from 
 those of Lord Kilkenny. They would get mixed up 
 somehow, and this ocasionally led to little mistakes. 
 
 "Dam good fellers and dam good sportsmen 
 some of these rajahs," Lord Kilkenny was once 
 heard to remark. " I sold Castanet at the end of 
 last season to old Jubbulpoor for five thousand. 
 He was certainly on his last legs, but he had a real 
 good strain in him ; the old man wanted him for 
 breeding purposes." 
 
 "But surely Castanet was a gelding, was he 
 not ? " inquired a bystander. 
 
 "Certainly, my bhoy. Didn't I say that they 
 were good sportsmen ? The old rajah didn't care, 
 and it was not my business to tell him. If it 
 weren't for the rajahs, I don't know where Indian 
 racing would be. They simply keep it going." 
 
 They kept Lord Kilkenny going. And occasion- 
 ally they went themselves. They had to go in 
 strict retirement until such time as they could 
 screw out sufficient revenue from their wretched 
 subjects to begin again. 
 
 "I'm off to the lotteries," cried Dampier, rising 
 and brushing the cigar ash from his mess-jacket.
 
 The Holy Estate. 73 
 
 " Any of you fellows coming? It's pretty late, and 
 they begin at half-past nine punctually." 
 
 There was a general move, and the majority of 
 those present tramped out of the room at the heels 
 of Dampier and Crawford. 
 
 Outside, about a dozen ponies were waiting, with 
 syces, wrapped up in blankets, squatting at their 
 heads. 
 
 " I'll be first at the club," cried Dampier, spring- 
 ing on his pony. " Come along, ' Fraction ; ' five 
 rupees that I will be at the club first," and ofi* he 
 dashed, followed by the others, laughing and yell- 
 ing, as their ponies clattered along the hard road 
 leading to the club. 
 
 As the noisy throng pressed into the large 
 dining-room, in which the lotteries were to be 
 held, they found it more than half full. Most 
 of the men already there were, like themselves, 
 dressed in mess uniform ; but a goodly number of 
 black coats showed here and there among the mass 
 of red. Nearly every man was smoking ; a large 
 number were drinking whiskies-and-sodas, and all 
 were talking and laughing loudly. At the end of 
 the room a group of subalterns were gathered 
 round a big fat man dressed in black, and were
 
 74 The Holy Estate, 
 
 shouting with laughter. He had just told them 
 one of his spicy stories. Here and there other 
 small groups were gathered together discussing the 
 merits of the horses which were to run on the 
 morrow. 
 
 A long table ran down the centre of the room, 
 covered with a green baize cloth. At one end of 
 the table stood two cylindrically-shaped boxes, 
 fixed on uprights by two pivots, so that they could 
 be swung round. One of these boxes held the 
 names of the horses which were to run in the 
 particular race on which the lottery was being 
 held; and the other, the numbers of the tickets that 
 had been sold. All over the table, lottery sheets 
 and books, dice boxes and dice, peg tumblers more 
 or less full of liquor, and trays containing the 
 stumps of smoked-out cheroots, were littered about 
 in profusion. 
 
 Presently a man with an armful of papers 
 pushed through a group standing at one of the 
 doors. He made his way to the end of the table 
 where the two boxes stood, and threw all the 
 papers with a bang on the table. He was the 
 Hon. Sec. of the Meeting. Taking a small 
 mallet from the table, he began to beat violently
 
 The Holy Estate. 75 
 
 one of the boxes. Instantly all the chairs were 
 filled, and those who could not get a seat 
 stood round behind the chairs. 
 
 " We will fill up the first race, if you please," he 
 shouted, after he had reduced the room to com- 
 parative silence. " First race — Maiden Plate, half- 
 a-mile for all ponies — " He proceeded to read out 
 the conditions of the race, and the names of the 
 ponies and the respective weights which they were 
 to carry. 
 
 When he had finished, the room was filled with 
 clamour — the rattling of dice boxes as the men 
 tossed one another for tickets, loud questions and 
 counter questions hurled from one end of the table 
 to the other. " Toss you for five tickets — all right. 
 Bearer, hi ! Bring whisky peg — no, two — what's 
 yours ? — eights — yours ? — tens — damn — stick it 
 down. Bearer ! — what race ? — how in the devil can 
 I help it ? — " and so on. 
 
 In the midst of the noise and confusion, Dampier 
 and Crawford sat side by side, with their heads 
 close to one another. " I have spoken to Wilmot " 
 (Wilmot was the Hon. Sec), Dampier was whis- 
 pering, ** and he says he will see if he can get the 
 order of the running changed ; so you can let
 
 76 The Holy Estate. 
 
 * Greyleg ' go easy in the half-mile race which they 
 all think he will win, and in the mile we will put 
 our money on. No one knows that he can stay. 
 Have you spoken to young Davenport about buy- 
 ing in our ponies ? " 
 
 Crawford nodded. 
 
 " That's all correct Damm'e, we'll skin the 
 lambs. The dear little lambkins, with their cover 
 coats and field glasses, who think, little innocents, 
 that they are * in the know.' Ha, ha, you'd have 
 been a lambkin. Fraction, if I hadn't taken you in 
 hand. Hi ! Bearer, two whiskies-and-sodas." 
 
 Dampier was in great "fettle," as the Scotch say, 
 to-night. He never enjoyed himself so much as 
 when in a lottery-room. He took stock of the 
 surging throng around him, who were laughing 
 and drinking and tossing wildly with one another 
 for tickets as fast as they could, and grinned. 
 Dampier never tossed for tickets. The element of 
 chance was too predominant. Opposite and around 
 him, dotted here and there, were other owners, like 
 himself, equally enjoying the sport. 
 
 Somebody once asked Sir John Bradford, who 
 was in those days Secretary to the Government of 
 India in the Tape and Scissors Department, why
 
 The Holy Estate. 77 
 
 lotteries were necessary to Indian racing. Sir 
 John, ever ready with an answer, replied that 
 lotteries were instituted to enable the owners of 
 race-horses to feed, train, and run their horses from 
 the proceeds of their friends' folly. And he was 
 not far wrong. 
 
 Most of the " racing men " of the three presiden- 
 cies of India were present. Close up to the end of 
 the table, by the swinging boxes, sat Major Banal 
 of the 105th Irregular Cavalry, — a tall man with a 
 thick red nose, which he screwed up like a tele- 
 scope when he laughed, and a large " waterfall " 
 moustache, to which the fragment of a smoked 
 cigar adhered. He was popularly known among 
 his friends as " Ally," from his close resemblance 
 to the big-featured individual who figures on the 
 front page of a popular comic weekly paper. 
 Then there was the short dark man on the other 
 side, with a black moustache, who was said to give 
 fabulous prices for his Arabs, that had never won a 
 race worth mentioning, and never would. Then 
 there was Lord Kilkenny, a host in himself, a hand- 
 some middle-sized man, with a knowing twinkle 
 in his eye. He could give most of the professional 
 jockeys 4 lbs. and a beating on the flat, and there
 
 78 The Holy Estate. 
 
 was no man to equal him in all India over the 
 " sticks." By his side sat a native dressed in the 
 most correct evening dress — it was Lord Kil- 
 kenny's latest blossom, the Maharajah of Kutch- 
 pawani. A little farther down the table, on the 
 other side, sat a big heavy man named Rainey^ 
 He used to ride once, but he had grown too fat, and 
 his present occupation was breaking in horses and 
 " skinning lambs." He was known among his 
 friends (as a sort of standing joke) as " Gentleman 
 Rainey." Sitting opposite him was a thin spare 
 man, a Major Clery, a quiet bird, who apparently 
 took no interest in what was going on round him; 
 but no man was 'cuter, or knew the ropes better. 
 He was known among his associates as the *' Chalk- 
 man," on account of an incident that occurred when 
 he was riding in the mining districts in England. 
 He was always so portentously grave and quiet 
 that his very presence seemed to lend a moral 
 tone to the proceedings, which otherwise was sadly 
 wanting. 
 
 All down the table, here and there, they sat with 
 a row of lambs separating them. They were all 
 engaged, like our friend Dampier, in the pleasant 
 and profitable occupation of " skinning the lambs.'
 
 TJte Holy Estate, 79 
 
 And the lambs skipped around, shouting and laugh- 
 ing, drinking and smoking, till the atmosphere 
 grew so thick with smoke that it was with diffi- 
 culty that one could see across the room. The still, 
 moonlit air outside rang with shouts of merriment. 
 The lambs were being skinned, and they enjoyed it 
 hugely — just then ! 
 
 Suddenly a loud hammering was heard through 
 the din and clatter. It was the Hon. Sec. banging 
 on one of the boxes in front of him, trying to restore 
 order. When tlie tumult had to some extent sub- 
 sided, he cried in a loud voice : 
 
 " First race closed. We will now sell the 
 horses. Two thousand rupees in the lottery, and 
 His Highness the Maharajah of Kutchpawani's 
 Grey Arab Pony, Fancy Free, for sale — who will 
 bid ? " 
 
 A glance passed between Crawford and 
 Dampier. Lord Kilkenny whispered a few 
 words to the Maharajah, and arose from his 
 seat. 
 
 " Fifty rupees," cried the Maharajah. 
 
 " One hundred," responded Dampier. 
 
 " Two hundred," retorted the Maharajah. 
 
 " Three hundred," exclaimed Dampier.
 
 8o The Holy Estate. 
 
 " Four hundred," shouted one of the lambs from 
 the end of the table. 
 
 Dampier cried, "Five hundred," and proceeded to 
 run it up to fifteen hundred. 
 
 " Two thousand," cried the Maharajah gaily. 
 
 " And fifty," exclaimed Dampier, afraid of going 
 too fast. 
 
 Eventually the pony was knocked down to His 
 Highness for two thousand four hundred rupees, and 
 Dampier chuckled as he made a note of it in his 
 lottery-book. This and the subsequent lotteries 
 caused an assessment of an extra four annas in the 
 rupee on land in the maharajah's dominions. 
 
 Two or three other ponies having been "sold," 
 the Hon. Sec. announced in a loud voice, " Nine 
 thousand three hundred in the lottery, and Mr. 
 Richardson Black's country-bred mare, Rigoletto, 
 for sale — any bidders ? " 
 
 Norton-Crawford, from the other end of the room, 
 ventured a timid ten rupees, and it was eventually 
 knocked down to him for sixty rupees. 
 
 " Who is the rider of Rigoletto ; never heard of 
 the beast before ? " Mr. Rainey enquired. 
 
 The Hon. Sec, after looking at his papers, 
 replied, " Captain Wortley Dampier."
 
 The Holy Estate. 8 1 
 
 Mr. Kainey whistled softly to himself and placed 
 a hundred rupees on the mare next day, when, 
 curiously enough, she was started first favourite, 
 and won in a common canter, much to everyone's 
 surprise and the maharajah's discomfiture. But, 
 as Lord Kilkenny explained to him, these little 
 mishaps frequently occur in racing. 
 
 The lotteries on all the subsequent races were at 
 last got through, and it was after tv/o o'clock when 
 the Hon. Secretary finally bundled his papers 
 together and prepared to depart. Captain Dampier 
 had not been wrong when he stated that the 
 lotteries would be warm. Some of the " lambs " 
 found them so hot, and were so badly singed, that it 
 took them many years to grow a new fleece. 
 
 " I think we may call that a most excellent 
 night's work," said Dampier, when the lotteries 
 were finished — " most excellent, ' Fraction.' I think 
 we have done ourselves proud. Now we will have 
 a drink on the strength of it. Hi ! Bearer," he 
 cried, " two big whiskies-and-sodas. Look sharp." 
 
 The room had thinned rapidly, and not more 
 than thirty men remained, who were standing in 
 little groups round the table. Two wretched men 
 sat studying their lottery-books now that the 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 The Holy Estate. 
 
 excitement was over, trying to reduce chaos into 
 something like order. One of the men closed his 
 book in despair, and called for a drink, an example 
 which was soon followed by the other. 
 
 "Who says Poker?" cried Dam pier cheerfully ; 
 " the night is yet young. Come along, my beauties. 
 We will see if we can get back a little of the 
 money we have dropped." A proposition that was 
 rapidly seconded by Crawford and one or two others. 
 
 "We will see if we can't drag some of your 
 prospective ill-gotten gains out of you, if that is 
 what you mean," retorted one of the men who had 
 given up "seeing how he stood" in his lottery- 
 book. With a scornful laugh, he joined the group 
 and sat down to Poker. 
 
 " Poker is a game that I like better than all the 
 others," said Dampier, meditatively, as he shuflSed 
 the cards preparatory to dealing. " It requires all 
 the virtues of temperance, soberness, and chastity," 
 he added, shouting for a fresh peg, " especially the 
 former. How many cards did you say you would 
 take, Wilmot ? — three ? There you are my boy ; 
 I'll stand on my hand." 
 
 Captain Dampier's luck at cards was proverbial, 
 and it did not desert him on this occasion. It was
 
 The Holy Estate. 83 
 
 three o clock before the party rose, and Dampier 
 stuffed his friends' I.O.U.'s into the pocket of his 
 mess-jacket. 
 
 " Now, you lucky devils, bachelors all, can go on 
 playing until the rosy dawn, if you like," he said 
 thickly ; " but I, alas ! must hie me home to the 
 wife of my bosom, as the hour is approaching when 
 no man sleepeth. Get me a final peg, Bearer, and 
 a fresh cheroot." 
 
 He stood catching hold of the back of a chair, 
 and rocking himself to and fro, reeking of stale 
 spirits and innumerable cigars. After he had drunk 
 down his whisky-and-soda, he slouched with un- 
 steady gait to the door, and found his way to the 
 portico. 
 
 It was a bright moonlight night when he started 
 home. Several ponies, with blankets thrown over 
 their backs to protect them from the cold night air, 
 stood in a group on the roadway outside. " Dam 
 shame keeping ponies out like this ; ought to know 
 better," he muttered, as he passed them. 
 
 He sailed down the road, which stretched before 
 him straight and white in the bright moonlight, 
 singing snatches of songs, and occasionally indulg- 
 ing in a half-suppressed laugh.
 
 84 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " Ah ! here we are at last," he exclaimed, as he 
 turned in at his gate- way. "By Gad! there's 
 a light there. I suppose she is sitting up with that 
 bally kid— just like her ! "
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 There was a great stillness in the Dampiers* 
 bungalow, save, where in one room, a child's 
 laboured breathing smote upon the silence. There 
 was a great darkness in the Dampiers' bungalow, 
 save where, in this one room, the faint glow of the 
 shaded lamplight fell upon the figure of the ayah 
 crouched upon the floor, (motionless but for the 
 anxious glitter in her black, beady eyes,) upon the 
 mother as she bent over her child's cot, and upon 
 the flushed face and parched lips of the little one 
 as she turned restlessly on the pillow. There 
 was a great woe in the Dampiers' bungalow, 
 the woe which only a mother's heart can know 
 when she sees the frail boat in which all her hap- 
 piness is centred drifting across the bar and feels 
 powerless to stop it. 
 
 For hours Madeleine Dampier had watched and 
 waited thus, while the swift shadows of the 
 
 Indian winter's day closed in with a rush, while 
 
 85
 
 86 The Holy Estate, 
 
 the servants all departed to their go-downs at the 
 back of the bungalow, while the doctor came and 
 went, with a grave look upon his face and an un- 
 spoken pity in his eyes at variance with his normal 
 professional calm. He had done all that he could. 
 He had given minute instructions as to what 
 should be done in his absence. He had answered 
 Mrs. Dampier's agonised inquiries with a forced 
 cheerfulness, and the stereotyped formula that 
 "while there is life there is hope." And he had 
 gone away again and left this woman alone — for 
 an ayah hardly counts — alone, to wrestle with her 
 anguish, while her husband was away yonder, heed- 
 less of aught save his drunken revelry. 
 
 Madeleine moistened the child's dry lips. Each 
 fevered breath went like a dagger to her heart. 
 She felt sick and dizzy with anxious watching. 
 
 " Here, ayah," she said to the figure squatting 
 like a wooden image on the floor, " take Missy Baha 
 for a time, and try again to make her sleep. If 
 she can only sleep it will be the best sign, the 
 doctor says." 
 
 She lifted the child lovingly, and kissing the 
 tiny fingers of the hot, wasted, little hand, gave her 
 into the ayah's arms. The ayah took the child,
 
 The Holy Estate. 87 
 
 and sitting down on her carpet again, began to 
 rock her restless burden to and fro, crooning over 
 the while the fragment of some old-world Indian 
 song. 
 
 Mrs. Dampier turned away with a weary sigh, 
 and began to pace up and down the room. Her 
 slippered feet fell noiselessly on the matted floor. 
 Her unbound hair fell in a shower over her 
 shoulders. She was clad in a loose white dressing- 
 gown which, with her pale face and purple-ringed 
 eyes, gave her a ghostly look. Ever and anon she 
 would pause to look at the little girl as she lay in 
 the ayah's lap. At first the child tossed restlessly 
 from side to side, and cried feebly. But Indian 
 patience is inexhaustible, and the ayah went on 
 humming and rocking, until at last her restless 
 burden grew gradually quieter, and seemed in a fair 
 way to sleep. 
 
 But the mother could not rest; her heart was 
 hot within her; she was racked with anxiety, 
 worn out with emotion. She looked at the time- 
 piece; the hands pointed to half- past one. It 
 was cruel that she should be left to suffer alone. 
 Suppose her darling should be worse, how could 
 she summon the doctor's aid ? To whom could
 
 88 The Holy Estate. 
 
 she turn ? Why did not her husband come 
 home ? One moment she prayed that he might 
 come, another that he might not. With the 
 desire to see him came the dread of how he 
 would return. 
 
 She went to the window and, drawing aside the 
 curtain, looked out. It was a brilliant moonlight 
 night — one of those cold, bright nights one sees in 
 India in winter. Every tree and every shrub of 
 the garden stood forth distinctl}^ almost every 
 blade of grass ; the pebbles on the gravel path in 
 front of the verandah gleamed whitely. She 
 pressed her forehead against the cold glass. 
 
 " Oh, God ! will this suspense never end ? '' she 
 moaned. 
 
 But there was no sound, neither any answer. 
 She could not see the road from here — a thick 
 hedge blocked the view — and though she strained 
 her ears, she could not hear the beat of footsteps. 
 
 Everything was still — terribly still Hark ! 
 
 What was that? The howl of a distant 
 
 jackal making hideous the silence of the night. 
 First one, then another, then another ; the whole 
 pack were joining in now — a weird, melancholy 
 chorus.
 
 The Holy Estate. 89 
 
 She turned away from the window, sick at heart. 
 She drew the curtains close — closer still. The 
 sound, though far away, might disturb her 
 darling. 
 
 But apparently it had not. The ayah, without 
 ceasing her brooding lullaby, looked up warningly 
 to arrest her mistress's steps. Missy Baha was 
 quieter now. She was not quite asleep yet — no, 
 but perchance she was dreaming, drifting into 
 slumber. 
 
 Madeleine paused uncertainly in the middle of 
 the room. For the nonce she was not wanted here. 
 With a weary gesture she put back her hair from 
 her brow, and went into the adjoining room. It 
 was a pretty room, plainly furnished as bedrooms 
 in Indian bungalows are wont to be. The two 
 beds were shrouded in diaphanous mosquito cur- 
 tains ; the floor was covered with matting ; the 
 simple furniture was for the most part of plain 
 white wood or wicker-work. Still Madeleine had 
 contrived to give an air of refinement to it all, and 
 had scattered about little knick-nacks, books, and 
 photographs, in the way a woman loves, and which 
 served to remind her of Home. She went into the 
 room blankly, mechanically, out of sheer restless-
 
 90 The Holy Estate. 
 
 ness. In her mute agony anything was better 
 than sitting still. She felt so helpless ; there was 
 nothing she could do. She felt so friendless ; there 
 was no one to whom she could turn. Suddenly she 
 went down on her knees beside the bed. Her faith 
 was not dead in her. The last four years of disillu- 
 sion had not disillusioned her religion. It is as 
 natural for a woman to pray as to weep. Instinc- 
 tively, in the anguish and desolation of her soul, she 
 turned to that Source where many seek for help, 
 and some find it ; where many crave for peace, and 
 some get insensibility. She knelt there, her face 
 buried in the covering of the bed, her arms thrust 
 out upon the shroud-like curtains. Tears had come 
 to her relief ; but she stifled her piteous sobs as 
 she sent up voiceless prayers to the Great White 
 Throne, that her one ewe lamb might be spared to 
 her. But earth is near, and the Great White 
 Throne very far oflf; and human sorrow is near, 
 and Divine compassion very far off. 
 
 Still, as she prayed, the tempest of her sobbing 
 ceased, and when she arose from her knees, and 
 went back to the other room, her child's breathing 
 seemed to be more regular, and the little one smiled 
 up a drowsy smile to her as she bent over the ayah.
 
 The Holy Estate, 91 
 
 The mother thought, poor soul, that her prayers 
 
 were answered. 
 
 " She will soon be asleep now," she whispered to 
 
 the ayah ; and the ayah thought so too. 
 
 Yes, asleep, the sleep from which there is no 
 
 awakening. 
 
 Again Madeleine glanced at the clock. Two 
 
 o'clock. There was no sign of her husband yet. 
 
 She must sit up and wait for him. With a sickness 
 
 of heart she thought how noisy his home-comings 
 
 sometimes were. 
 
 She drew up a spider-chair and sat down before 
 
 the jungle-wood fire. It had been burning brightly, 
 
 for the night was cold ; but the room was warm 
 enough now, and it had burned low. Madeleine 
 rested her chin upon her hands, and watched 
 the white ashes drop on the hearth. There was 
 nothing else to do. She could only watch and wait 
 for the return of this once hero of hers. She 
 had done it often before — and often before he had 
 come back to her sodden and out of all semblance 
 of himself. But never before had the cruelty of it 
 struck her so. 
 
 The minutes dragged themselves wearily by, and 
 wore themselves into the night. Still the neglected
 
 92 The Holy Estate. 
 
 wife crouched there, her chin upon her hands, 
 looking into the dying embers. As she looked, 
 the past seemed to rise before her. She saw again 
 the old grey church on the storm-beaten Cornwall 
 coast. She lived again the day when, before God's 
 altar, she had vowed to love, cherish, and obey the 
 man to whom the Church had bound her until 
 death should part them. And she had striven to 
 keep her vows in spite of all those nameless indig- 
 nities which only a wife can suffer from a brutal 
 husband. She had kept them, though her ideal 
 had been dragged down in the mud and shattered 
 there, though she had been outraged, neglected, 
 forced through experiences from which her instinc- 
 tive purity recoiled. She had kept them as only a 
 woman can whose nature it is to suffer and be still. 
 If love were dead, was she to blame ? Even love 
 can be slain at last. 
 
 Four years ! It seemed to her four centuries to- 
 night, as she looked back across the gulf of her 
 dead hopes, the wreck of her shattered ideals. Her 
 love-dream had been a brief one, and from it there 
 had been a rude awakening. She had seen the 
 light of passion in her husband's eyes, and had mis- 
 takeu it for love. Even in her honeymoon she
 
 The Holy Estate. 93 
 
 began to see that she was only part of his animal 
 existence. Little by little the truth forced itself 
 upon her, that she had given herself to a selfish 
 libertine who had not even the virtues of his vices 
 to redeem him. She had married, loving him for 
 having chosen her, reverencing him in her pure 
 heart as the one man whom she loved in all the 
 world. But before the first year of her married 
 life was over, she had found out that he had never 
 loved her, and that his object in making her his 
 wife had been to gain control of her little fortune, 
 to pay his ruinous debts, and to squander the re- 
 mainder on his selfish pleasures. Within nine 
 months of their marriage, shortly after she had 
 come out to India, her father died. His love might 
 have shielded her in her sorrows, yet in the midst of 
 them she found it in her heart to thank God that he 
 never knew that she was aught but a happy wife. 
 
 Like her father, of business matters she knew 
 nothing, and was easily persuaded — how easily 
 none but a wife can know — to sign a power of 
 attorney, giving the control of her money to her 
 husband. A stranger in a strange land, she had 
 none to advise her — none to help. Besides, who 
 should interfere between husband and wife ; it ia
 
 94 The Holy Estate. 
 
 ever a thankless task. She had many acquaint- 
 ances, but few friends ; hers was not a nature to 
 expand much in the artificial atmosphere of Anglo- 
 Indian life. She even shrank from hinting her 
 troubles in the letters Home to her friend, Mrs. 
 Eveline, though numerous of them had reached 
 the latter, and she read between the lines and 
 sighed. 
 
 Madeleine's religious views on marriage bade 
 her suffer and make no sign. She was this man's 
 wife — for weal or woe. They twain were of one 
 flesh ; none could come between them — at least, 
 none at her bidding. All that she had was his; she 
 had vowed it. 
 
 In the first months of her marriage, her gentle 
 nature was plastic to her husband's touch ; a kind 
 word wrought her to love, a rough one to tears* 
 But four years of disillusion had deadened this 
 fine sense. Kind words never came now — never 
 since the signing of that power of attorney — and 
 rough ones had become so frequent as to partly 
 lose their sting. At first his infidelities maddened 
 her ; for Captain Dampier's infidelities were notori- 
 ous, even in the lax morality of Anglo-Indian 
 society. She felt degraded, humiliated, by them — ^
 
 The Holy Estate. 95 
 
 dragged down to the low level of those other 
 women on whom he squandered her money, and 
 for whom he neglected her. " You are not the 
 only woman in the world," he told her brutally, 
 when the full horror of the thing struck her for the 
 first time, and the outraged wife remonstrated with 
 him. But, latterly, she had become outwardly in- 
 different to that also. 
 
 There was a reason for this, for her interest was 
 no longer centred in her husband ; it had been 
 transferred to her child — the one pledge of this 
 unhappy union — the strong link which bound her 
 to her husband now. All the love of her fervent 
 nature went out to her little girl. For her sake 
 she was content to bear all things, — her husband's 
 infidelities, his brutal words ; she might even have 
 suffered personal violence, but he always stopped 
 short of that. His cruelty was of a far more subtle 
 kind. Madeleine lived anew in her child ; her love 
 for it was her salvation. It was this love which 
 kept her pure through all the hollowness and the 
 temptations of Anglo-Indian society, where, on most 
 women, the gloomy weight of fashion and frivolity 
 lies like a dead weight. Her husband, dog-in-the- 
 manger-like, resented this love. He did not want
 
 g6 The Holy Estate. 
 
 it himself, but he objected to its being wasted upon 
 his child. 
 
 But Madeleine hardly heeded him. She loved 
 to sit for hours in the verandah, playing with her 
 little girl, the ground around strewn with broken 
 toys and withered flowers. Or when Lena was 
 tired, she would sit there, trying to rock her to 
 sleep, despite the mima's discordant screams, and 
 make the ayah chant soothing stories. She was 
 absorbed in her child. The grass widows and 
 officers' wives sneered at this display of maternal 
 weakness. With most of them, children were a 
 nuisance. Their dances, their squabbles over war- 
 rants of precedence, and their flirtations with their 
 Hill captains, were far more engrossing. They 
 openly pitied Mrs. Dampier, and openly flirted with 
 her husband. They called her " a poor thing," and 
 her husband " a sad scamp," and protested that her 
 " airs and graces " were beyond endurance. A mere 
 captain's wife, too ! And " of no birth either," said 
 Mrs. Plunkett-Potter. Madeleine had not heeded 
 them hitherto. They might backbite, gossip, flirt, 
 as much as they pleased, it was no affair of hers* 
 She had her child, and that was enough. 
 
 The logs fell in with a little crash, and woke her
 
 The Holy Estate. gj 
 
 from her reverie. She glanced at the timepiece. 
 Three o'clock. Would he never come ? 
 
 Even as she thought thus, there smote upon her 
 ears the sound of a heavy uncertain tread. How 
 often before had the sound of that footstep made 
 her sick at heart ? But to-night she scarcely 
 noticed its uncertainty ; her thoughts ran wholly on 
 her child. 
 
 Dampier pushed open the door, and came into the 
 room. A glance sufficed to show the state in which 
 he had returned. 
 
 He greeted her with a scowl. 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, " you up still ? — not 
 gone to bed yet ? You know that I dislike you to 
 sit up for me. Why will you do it ? " 
 
 She scarcely noticed his rough words. She ran 
 towards him with uplifted finger. 
 
 " Hush, Wortley," she whispered ; " do not speak 
 so loud. Lena is very ill — but sleeping ; it is the 
 best thing. We must not wake her, the doctor 
 says." 
 
 He looked at her and blinked. She had put 
 both hands upon his chest in the earnestness of her 
 pleading ; her face was upturned to his. He reeked 
 with the odour of stale tobacco smoke, and his 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 The Holy Estate, 
 
 breath was whisky - laden. She could not for- 
 bear a momentary spasm of disgust. But she 
 conquered it. 
 
 "Do come and see if you think she is better," 
 she pleaded. " Oh, Wortley, do tell me what you 
 think. Shall we send for the doctor again ? " 
 
 " I don't know whom you will send," he answered 
 roughly, lowering his voice to a gruff whisper. " I 
 am not going, if you mean that. But let us have a 
 look." 
 
 He went across the room to Lena's cot. The 
 ayah had put the child back now, and squatted on 
 the floor, keeping guard. Despite the noise, the 
 little one was sleeping, or seemed to be so. 
 
 " What do you think, Wortley ? " his wife asked 
 in a whisper. Her very soul seemed to hang upon 
 her words. 
 
 " The child's all right," he said brusquely, turning 
 away as he spoke. " She's going on nicely. There 
 was nothing much the matter after all. You 
 have been fretting yourself about nothing — as 
 usual." 
 
 She ignored his palpable indifference, the rough- 
 ness of his words, in the comfort which they 
 brought to her. When one wishes a thing very
 
 The Holy Estate. 99 
 
 much, the merest crumb of comfort comes as a con- 
 firmation of one's hopes. 
 
 The ayah's eyes glittered, but she said nothing. 
 She knew what this deep slumber meant. She had 
 seen it often before. 
 
 Dampier watched his wife curiously as she hung 
 over the cot. The fumes of wine were in his brain, 
 his blood was heated. He was not quite drunk, nor 
 yet quite sober. 
 
 " Come," he said presently ; " we can't stay here 
 all night. Lena's right enough. The ayah will 
 look after her. Come." 
 
 He put his hand upon her shoulder, and drew 
 her away as he spoke. 
 
 She looked at him for a moment dumbly, an ex- 
 pression, half of dread, half of protest, in her eyes. 
 Then she moved away from him a little space. 
 
 " Oh, Wortley. I must stay here to-night. I 
 cannot leave the child. Think, she may die — 
 she—" 
 
 « May not ! " he finished brutally. " The child— 
 the child, always the child ! Have you no duty to 
 me, do you think ? — Come 
 
 " What nonsense you talk," he continued, more 
 quietly. "The ayah can call you if the child is
 
 100 The Holy Estate. 
 
 worse — we are close by — you can come back 
 again." 
 
 She thrust out her arms to ward him off. 
 
 " Oh ! I cannot," she said. " Do not ask me ; I 
 cannot." 
 
 " You will do as I bid you," he said in a hoarse 
 whisper, " or, by — ! I will turn the ayah out and 
 the child too. They can go to the go-downs out of 
 the way. You know me — you — " 
 
 She swayed, and caught at a chair for support. 
 
 " I cannot," she wailed, again. " God help me 1 I 
 cannot." 
 
 All the untold agony of woman came forth in 
 that cry. 
 
 For all answer he stepped towards the cot. In 
 another instant the child would have been awakened. 
 With a swift gesture, she threw herself before him. 
 
 " I will do as you wish," she whispered, still with 
 the horror on her face ; " anything you wish, only — 
 do not wake her." 
 
 A gleam of triumph shone in his eyes — but he 
 said nothing. He turned on his heel, and, as noise- 
 lessly as he could, went into the adjoining room. 
 
 She gave one backward glance towards the cot, 
 and with bowed head followed him.
 
 The Holy Estate. lOl 
 
 An hour passed. Everything was still in the 
 room where the child seemed to sleep. The grey 
 dawn straggled through the chinks of the blinds, 
 and warred with the dim lamp-light. Even the 
 ayah's vigilance had relaxed at last. Her head 
 had fallen forward on her breast ; she was slumber- 
 ing peacefully. Except for her heavy breathing, 
 everything was still. 
 
 The door of the room adjoining opened noiselessly 
 and a slender white-clad figure came forth. It was 
 the mother creeping back again. There was little 
 fear of interruption, for her husband was snoring 
 heavily — sleeping off the effects of his carouse. The 
 horror was on her face still, intensified if possible. 
 She crept to her child's bedside. She seemed to be 
 sleeping very soundly — not even a breath could be 
 heard. The mother bent over the cot and dropped 
 a kiss, light as a falling rose-leaf, on her darling's 
 brow. The contact struck a chill to her soul. 
 Why was she so cold ? Why this awful silence ? 
 Not a flutter of breath came from the little lips. 
 
 A sudden spasm of terror seized her. With a 
 loud cry she caught her dead child to her breast, a cry 
 that rang through the silent house, penetrating even 
 to the go-downs, a cry that awakened the sleeping
 
 102 The Holy Estate. 
 
 ayah, a cry that roused even the sodden brute in 
 the adjoining room : " Lena, my darling, look at 
 me ! speak to me ! It is I — your mother, darling, 
 who calls to you ! Oh, God ! she is dead — dead — 
 she has gone from me ! While I — I — " 
 
 Her voice died away in a sobbing wail. It was 
 the moan of Rachel mourning for her children, and 
 would not be comforted, because they were not.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Hills — the deep blue Hills — reached up to the 
 sky right away on the horizon. Their jagged peaks, 
 faintly outlined through the misty haze, stretched 
 away until they were lost to sight in one dim mass 
 of blue. 
 
 At least this was how they struck the belated 
 Goring, left behind at Dustypore, as he meandered 
 along the white dusty road on his pony in the 
 evening sunset, back to the Club. He gazed 
 under the brim of his thick sola toupee at the deep 
 blue mass far away, and dreamed of steep green 
 hill-slopes, of sweet-scented pines rocking to and 
 fro in the cool evening breeze, of broad valleys 
 stretching away till they merge in the distance with 
 the level brown plains. And, as he mused, he could 
 almost hear the " clink, clink," of the jolting tonga- 
 bar, yoked to a pair of ragged, half broken-in ponies. 
 He could almost hear the clatter of their hoofs as 
 
 they galloped up the narrow cart-road, swinging 
 
 103
 
 104 The Holy Estate. 
 
 round the sharp corners, and grazing the parapets 
 of loose stones that overlooked sheer precipices. 
 He could almost picture the final stage, when the 
 tonga, turning the last comer, brought Elysium — 
 the most delightful of all Hill stations — into view. 
 
 Elysium, with its little bungalows nestling in the 
 wooded hill-sides — Elysium, with its dark firs and 
 blazing rhododendrons — Elysium, with its hotel (a 
 mass of bungalows joined together) crowded full of 
 people, all bent on one pursuit, pleasure, or what 
 passed muster for pleasure — Elysium, with its dances, 
 picnics, private theatricals, dinners, anything that 
 makes "time fly with gladsome feet" — Elysium, 
 with its flirtations in Kala-jugahs cunningly con- 
 trived with low divans and masses of phulkaries^ 
 dimly lighted by a solitary Chinese lantern, which 
 always managed to go out — Elysium, with its Gym- 
 khanas on the only level strip of green, with tent- 
 pegging over hurdles for the men, and tilting at the 
 ring with billiard-cues for the women, and the big 
 marquee at the side, with long drinks for thirsty 
 warriors. 
 
 Then the belated Goring sighed and counted up 
 the days which would bring him in reality to Ely- 
 sium. And on the strength of it he took an extra
 
 The Holy Estate. 105 
 
 lump of ice in his peg when he reached the Club. 
 For Laline was at Elysium, and, to Goring, Elysium 
 meant Laline. 
 
 Eighteen months have passed since the night of 
 the lotteries at Dustypore, and most of those who 
 have been mentioned in these pages have betaken 
 themselves to Elysium at the beginning of the hot 
 weather. 
 
 They had been eighteen months of weariness and 
 hidden heartache for ^Irs. Dampier — eighteen 
 months of drinks, long nights at mess or club, 
 of heavy play with a steady run of bad luck, for 
 Captain Wortley Dampier — eighteen months of 
 careful and judicious intrigue for Laline L'Estrange, 
 all of which time she had managed to hold Goring, 
 though the ropes had at times been strained to 
 breaking-point — eighteen months of alternate hope 
 and misgiving for Goring, now Captain Goring 
 — eighteen months of careful living, of scandal and 
 flirtation, for the ever youthful and joyous Mrs. 
 Plunkett- Potter, the delight of under -secretaries 
 and Hill captains, and the goddess of unfledged 
 subalterns.
 
 io5 The Holy Estate. 
 
 During these eighteen months a new element had 
 entered into the lives of these, an element which 
 bade fair to play rather a large part in their various 
 vicissitudes. 
 
 This element was Sir John Bradford, K.C.S.I., 
 Secretary to the Government of India in the Tape 
 and Scissors Department. 
 
 When young Bradford entered the Indian Civil 
 Service some thirty years before, his uncle, then a 
 member of the Legislative Council, gave him some 
 advice after the manner of Chesterfield, backed by 
 many years of experience. He did not give him 
 much else, for people who are so generous in this 
 respect are generally remarkably close in others. 
 
 " You must write reports, my boy," he said ; " and 
 always keep on writing reports. Always keep in 
 with your seniors at any cost, and never grudge 
 them the credit for any good work you may do. 
 They will take it in any case. When you attain 
 higher oflSces, you will take all the credit for the 
 work done by your juniors, and so the thing will 
 balance itself. That is one of the great unwritten 
 rules in the service of the Government of India, as 
 you will find out for yourself when you grow older. 
 Leax^n to play whist, and learn to play well ; thus
 
 The Holy Estate. 107 
 
 you will be brought into closer contact with your 
 seniors, and you will be able to help them to win 
 money — or occasionally to lose a little to them, a 
 very useful investment. In small disputes, always 
 back the opinion of the bigger man. And don't 
 forget the women — women have influence. But 
 only cultivate the wives of your chiefs — the old and 
 ugly — and leave the poor and pretty alone. These 
 latter are a man's worst enemies — especially a 
 young man who wants to get on in the world." 
 
 These and many other maxims did John Brad- 
 ford imbibe in his youth, as he sat at the feet of 
 that old Gamaliel, his uncle, who was a member of 
 the Legislative Council. And he pondered them 
 in his heart. 
 
 From the first, Bradford was considered a pro- 
 mising man. When he married the plain and 
 elderly daughter of a member of the Supreme 
 Council, a lady many years his senior, everyone 
 saw and admitted that he was a made man, that 
 his future was assured, and that high honours were 
 only a matter of time. By his marriage, he acquired 
 that touchstone of official life without which all 
 struggles are unavailing, and the best work is only 
 as a breath of wind — interest
 
 io8 The Holy Est ale. 
 
 His married life was hardly harmonious, in fact, 
 it may best be described by the familiar allusion to 
 •'cat and dog." The only happy thing about it 
 was the happy release. It is doubtful which of the 
 two felt more relieved when the lady departed to a^ 
 better land, where selfish husbands cease from 
 carping, and nagging wives are at rest. 
 
 Bradford's greatest stroke of genius, the result of 
 many years of careful study and experience, was 
 when he managed to raise a famine in one of the 
 most prosperous and fertile districts of India. 
 Nature helped him to some extent, but all the 
 other part he managed himself. It was a really 
 skilful piece of work, well planned, and admirably 
 carried out. Other men of his standing watched 
 and envied, and called it " luck " ; but it was not. 
 The men up above said, *' This man is a genius, and 
 is wasted down below," so they gave him a Star of 
 India, and transferred him to Simla. There was 
 nothing now that was above his reach, and he took 
 all that he could get. He had never married again, 
 for he was a man with large patronage in his 
 hands, and therefore did not think it necessary. 
 Of course he had his weaknesses — what great man 
 has not ? His particular weakness was a strongly-
 
 The Holy Estate. 109 
 
 developed, erotic element in his nature, a weakness 
 which frequently accompanies abnormal brain- 
 power. His amours were numerous, and he took 
 no trouble to conceal them. His attention to any 
 woman whom he might favour was always a very 
 doubtful compliment. 
 
 There had been a glorious break in the rains, 
 which promised to last. Hardly a cloud was to be 
 seen in the bright blue sky, and warm sunshine 
 lighted the hill-tops and flooded the valleys around 
 Elysium. Everywhere all was fresh and green 
 and beautiful. 
 
 On the strength of the delightful weather, Mrs. 
 Plunkett-Potter had decided to give a picnic to 
 her pick friends and acquaintance, at the advice 
 and under the management of Laline. No one 
 knew how to arrange picnics like Laline. 
 
 On the narrow gravel path, which ran in front of 
 the verandah of the Potter's bungalow, known as 
 " The Firs," was scattered a group of horses, each 
 with a syce squatting at its head. Their several 
 owners were in the drawing-room, or under the 
 verandah which opened from it. In the centre of 
 the group was Mrs. Plunkett-Potter, holding an
 
 no The Holy Estate. 
 
 animated conversation with Captain Wortley 
 Dampier, on one of the few subjects on which it 
 was possible to converse with him — horses. On a 
 seat by the window, Madeleine Dampier was chat- 
 ting with a young Under-Secretary. Lord Kil- 
 kenny and old Lady Fitzpoodle were comparing 
 notes in the verandah ; while, standing against the 
 mantelpiece playing with her riding- whip and look- 
 ing her best, stood Laline, talking to an undersized 
 elderly man with a large, bald head fringed with 
 greyish-red hair — Sir John Bradford, to wit. 
 Davenport, and a few subalterns up on privilege 
 leave, and two or three ladies, completed the party. 
 
 " I think it is time to make a move," said Miss 
 L'Estrange, breaking in during a lull in the general 
 conversation. "We have a long way to go. What 
 do you think, Sir John ? " 
 
 Sir John thought it an admirable proposition, 
 and proceeded to put it into immediate execution, 
 accompanied by Laline. The others sorted them- 
 selves, as people have a knack of doing on these 
 occasions, and — with some of the ladies in jam-jpans 
 and others on horseback — followed after.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 About an hour's easy riding over somewhat un- 
 even ground, but in the shade for the most part, 
 brought the whole party to the place where they 
 had elected to lunch. The servants had gone on 
 before, and everything was arranged : camp stools, 
 rugs, and so forth in plenty, so as to make the pro- 
 cess of eating one's lunch in uncomfortable positions 
 as little uncomfortable as need be. It was a pretty 
 spot — a level strip of sward hedged in on three 
 sides by jungle- wood, the other open to the distant 
 hills. 
 
 Everyone seemed glad to get there, and soon all 
 were enjoying an excellent lunch, and chattering 
 away gaily to a running accompaniment of the 
 popping of corks and the clatter of knives and 
 forks. Everybody was in high spirits. Even Mrs. 
 Dampier, wbo found herself next to Sir John Brad- 
 ford, was laughing with the merriest among them. 
 
 Madeleine had changed considerably during the 
 
 III
 
 1 1 2 The Holy Estate. 
 
 last eighteen months ; she had " come out/* her 
 friends said. The death of her child, a terrible 
 blow to her, had snapped the strongest of the few 
 remaining links which bound her to her husband. 
 She had become passively indifferent towards him, 
 almost heedless of his infidelities, and comparatively 
 insensible to his sneers. After all, when one is 
 young, and blessed with perfect health, one cannot 
 grieve for ever. The hollow in Madeleine's cheek 
 had filled out to a pure oval, the wild-rose bloom 
 flickered there again. She looked exceedingly 
 pretty to-day in her white dress and hat, just 
 dashed with mauve, her face lit up with a laugh at 
 some passing jest. 
 
 Sir John Bradford thought so evidently, for he 
 devoted all his attentions to her, and completely 
 ignored Miss L'Estrange — who was sitting the 
 other side of him — much to the disgust of that 
 young lady, who had to content herself with the 
 Under-Secretary. It was exasperating, too, for this 
 picnic had been arranged mainly with a view of 
 bringing him to the point. But Sir John was an 
 old bird, and even the honeyed sweetness of Miss 
 L'Estrange's smiles were apt to pall occasionally on 
 his jaded palate. Mrs. Dampier was like a cup of
 
 The Holy Estate, 113 
 
 cold water after a highly-spiced draught. She 
 was different to the ordinary run of Anglo-Indian 
 women, many of whom, like ripe fruit, were 
 ready to drop into his mouth ; her reticence egged 
 him on, her modesty secretly provoked his desire. 
 And Madeleine, though she disliked him in her 
 heart, had received a hint from her husband to be 
 civil to him. It was some question of staff ap- 
 pointment, she thought ; for Sir John, though he 
 had no direct influence in the army, had a good 
 deal indirectly. The real reason, that Captain 
 Dampier owed him a large sum of money, never 
 struck her. Dampier had now run to the end of 
 his tether ; the situation was desperate. Sir John 
 was pressing for payment; but if Dampier could 
 only use his pretty wife as a decoy, the day of 
 reckoning might be warded off a little longer, or 
 he might even borrow a little more. The un- 
 suspecting Madeleine, all ignorant of this, tried her 
 best to be agreeable to Sir John, and to-day she 
 was succeeding very well, so well, indeed, that 
 Mrs. Potter had more than once telegraphed signifi- 
 cant glances to Laline, whicli that young lady al- 
 together ignored. Perhaps, too, there was a little 
 dash of triumph in Madeleine's smiles ; for, after all, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 The Holy Estate. 
 
 Sir John was the lion of the party, and a very 
 amusing companion when he chose to be. 
 
 Mrs. Potter, however, thought " that Mrs. Dam- 
 pier " had monopolised her lion long enough, so she 
 swooped down upon their conversation by asking 
 Sir John point blank what he thought about a cer- 
 tain colonel's wife — a new arrival at Elysium — 
 whose reputation Mrs. Potter and the other ladies 
 had amused themselves with demolishing. 
 
 " Eh ? " said Sir John oracularly, looking up out 
 of his little red eyes. " Do you know, my dear 
 Mrs. Potter, I never give an opinion on a doubtful 
 subject." 
 
 There was a general laugh at this. Captain 
 Wortley Dampier laughed quite the loudest. 
 
 "Sir John is pleased to be diplomatic," said 
 Miss L'Estrange, with curling lips. " And yet 
 some one has said somewhere that it is the 
 opinion of men which makes the reputation of 
 women." 
 
 " Then heaven help them ! " exclaimed the Under- 
 Secretary, with a killing glance at Miss L'Estrange. 
 She took not the slightest notice of it. Why 
 should she ? He had a wife and three children at 
 Home.
 
 The Holy Estate. 115 
 
 " I would rather trust my reputation to men than 
 to women any day," she added. 
 
 " That only means that you have much to learn, 
 my dear," severely interposed Lady Fitzpoodle, a tall 
 gaunt woman like a grenadier in petticoats, whose 
 hard features and harsh voice made one involun- 
 tarily wonder however her diminutive little 
 husband — who was a General and a K.C.B. — had 
 mustered up courage enough to marry her. In 
 point of fact, it was she who had married him, 
 having stalked him all over India for that pur- 
 pose. 
 
 ** Ah ! of course I haven't had your experience, 
 dear Lady Fitzpoodle," rejoined Laline sweetly, 
 " but no doubt I shall have it in time." 
 
 Lady Fitzpoodle bridled, and made a savage 
 attack upon \iQv 'pate-de-foie-gras. 
 
 " And it is a great thing to have experience," 
 continued Laline, with the same air of candid 
 innocence, "especially for women. It involves a past; 
 and to be truly interesting, all women should have 
 pasts, and all men futures. Do you not think so, 
 Sir John?" 
 
 " Really ! " protested Lady Fitzpoodle, rallying 
 her forces ; " such sentiments from a young
 
 ii6 The Holy Estate. 
 
 girl! When I was young, things were very 
 different—" 
 
 " Yes, but that was such a very long time ago, 
 dear Lady Fitzpoodle," rejoined Laline, with un- 
 alloyed sweetness. " Things vont vite now-a-days." 
 
 Sir John Bradford laughed ; one or two others 
 follow^ed suit. Lady Fitzpoodle glared and pre- 
 pared a crushing retort. She hadn't got further 
 than " They do indeed," when Mrs. Potter struck in 
 precipitately, and dragged the conversation back to 
 the point from which it started. 
 
 " But we were talking about this — ahem ! — 
 person," she said plaintively. "It is really most 
 awkward. She has the next bungalow to us, and 
 it is most diflBcult to know what to do. It is quite 
 impossible to call upon a woman with — ahem ! — a 
 past." 
 
 " A past before she married ? Isn't that rather 
 reversing the order of things as we understand it ? " 
 grinned Sir John. 
 
 " And they say she and her husband quarrel like 
 cat and dog," continued Mrs. Potter, ignoring this 
 last remark. " Considering how well she must 
 have known what he was like before they married, 
 I really wonder why she married him."
 
 The Holy Estate. II7 
 
 " Perhaps she did it out of revenge — and not a 
 bad one either," chuckled Sir John. " What do you 
 think, Mrs. Dampier ? " 
 
 " I have no means of judging," said Madeleine 
 indifferently. " My neighbours' affairs do not in- 
 terest me." 
 
 " What an extraordinary thing ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Potter, reddening at the implied rebuke ; " but then 
 we all know, dear Mrs. Dampier, that you are not 
 an ordinary person. For my part, I confess frankly 
 that there is nothing so interesting as one's neigh- 
 bours' affairs. What on earth else are we to talk 
 about ? — we can't bore people with our own." 
 
 " True," said Sir John sardonically ; " if we were 
 to leave out of our conversation scandal and the 
 weather, how commonplace we should become." 
 
 " That is a commonplace," vivaciously retorted 
 Mrs. Potter. " After all, what does it matter ? 
 They do just the same to us when our backs are 
 turned. Half the pleasure of possessing friends is 
 to discuss their faults. By magnifying them, one 
 seems to minimise one's own, until at last one 
 feels positively virtuous. It's quite a mistake to 
 think one always abuses one's friends out of ill- 
 nature."
 
 Ii8 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " One's friends ! " repeated Sir John Bradford. 
 " Who are they ? — the people who eat at one's 
 dinners, are they not ? " 
 
 " Precisely, and whose dinners we eat — cutlet for 
 cutlet, you know. But come — I hate discussions 
 on abstract theories. Mr. Davenport," turning to 
 her latest subaltern, " you are a man of ideas, what 
 shall we talk about ? — something safe and harm- 
 less, you know." 
 
 " Books ? " he suggested wildly, taken aback at 
 this unexpected appeal. 
 
 " Books — pooh ! " said Wortley Dampier. The 
 only book worth reading, in my opinion, is the 
 * Asian Pocket Book.' " 
 
 "So I should think," said Sir John Bradford 
 drily. " What do you think, Mrs. Dampier ? " 
 
 " I — I — " she said, somewhat nonplussed. She 
 forgot that her husband was used to Sir John's 
 sneers. " I think most books fail to interest one — 
 after all, that is not to be wondered at. People 
 write best, I should think, about their actual 
 experiences, and those are the things one would 
 least like to see in print — human documents, so to 
 speak." 
 
 ■' What a pessimistic utterance ! " exclaimed Miss
 
 The Jioly Estate. I19 
 
 L'Estrange ; " it augurs that one's experiences must 
 be singularly dull, or singularly unfortunate, Now, 
 for my part, I never read books — except novels — 
 French novels for preference." 
 
 This with a defiant glance towards Lady Fitz- 
 poodle. But that matron, mindful of her previous 
 discomfiture, wisely chose to ignore it. 
 
 " Oh, novels ! " said Lord Kilkenny contemptu- 
 ously ; " it seems to me that they are all — or nearly 
 all — written on a wrong basis : they treat marriage 
 as the end of all things, whereas it is but the 
 beginning." 
 
 " So it is to a woman," said Laline, '' but not to a 
 man. It is his last chapter rather than his first ; 
 that is where the unfairness comes in." 
 
 Lord Kilkenny cast a covetous glance at Laline, 
 who was looking very fresh and desirable in an 
 exquisitely fitting habit. His eye twinkled, but 
 he said nothing. 
 
 " Well, that is one way of looking at it, anyway," 
 said the Under-Secretary. '' Then you probably 
 agree, Miss L'Estrange, that no one marries now, 
 except very wise women, and very foolish men." 
 
 " I don't know ; I never generalise," answered 
 Laline. " Like everything else, it all depends."
 
 120 TJie Holy Estate. 
 
 " That is the Bishop of Kolopul's view," said Lord 
 Kilkenny with a laugh, "'it all depends.' I re- 
 member his wife telling me at an official dinner at 
 Government House that 'the dear Bishop never 
 marries anyone below the rank of a Lieutenant- 
 Colonel.' ' My dear,' rebuked the Bishop across the 
 table, ' it all depends.' " 
 
 "I agree with Mrs. Dampier," said the Under- 
 Secretary, harking back to the point ; " romances — 
 real romances — are not in books, but in life ; and 
 marriage is a sorry ending to them." 
 
 " What a sentiment for a much married man ! " 
 broke in Wortley Dampier. " Of one thing I am sure : 
 marriage is an institution invented entirely for the 
 benefit of women. I should advise them to cherish it." 
 
 "Dear me," said Sir John Bradford blandly, " and 
 yet the only merit of many a man is his wife." 
 
 It pleased him to give these little digs at Wortley 
 Dampier; he was safe in the assurance that his 
 victim dare not retort. He had an idea that it 
 pleased Mrs. Dampier also He little knew her. 
 
 " I don't agree with these opinions," said Mrs. 
 Potter with playful protest ; " in our artificial 
 state of society, marriage is a very necessary 
 institution."
 
 The Holy Estate. 121 
 
 " And a very convenient one too/' said Sir John 
 significantly — so significantly that Mrs. Potter 
 reddened beneath her rouge. " But what does Mrs. 
 Dampier think of it ? " he asked, turning to 
 Madeleine. 
 
 " I think you are looking at marriage as it 
 sometimes is, rather than as it ought to be," she 
 answered. " Suppose we look at the ideal instead. 
 Love is marriage, and marriage is love, then." 
 
 " Yes, but to continue love in marriage is the 
 rub ; for, unfortunately, it has a knack of trans- 
 forming into a duty that which would otherwise 
 be a delight," said Sir John. " In marriage, as in 
 most things, * it is ever the commencement which is 
 charming,' as La Rochefoucauld would say." 
 
 " Then, why not commence again, dear Sir John ?" 
 gushed Mrs. Potter. 
 
 Sir John bowed his bald head. 
 
 " If I were only younger, and Mrs. Potter were 
 only free, how gladly would I take up the chal- 
 lenge." 
 
 Mrs. Potter smirked and smiled. No compliment, 
 however flagrant, ever came amiss to her. The 
 others laughed. 
 
 " Ah, well ! " she said irrelevantly, lighting a
 
 122 TJie Holy Estate. 
 
 cigarette, " who knows ? This is an age of new 
 ideas, but we haven't yet rendered marriage un- 
 necessary." 
 
 " An age of new ideas ! Do you really think 
 so ? " exclaimed Sir John. " Why, we haven't 
 invented a new sin — it would at least be a new 
 sensation." 
 
 " You wicked man," archly exclaimed Mrs. 
 Potter, shaking her cigarette at him with playful 
 protest. " One would think you were posing as the 
 wicked baronet of the story-books. What a dread- 
 ful sentiment. I really think our conversation has 
 been positively improper. The next time we have 
 a picnic, I shall have to write out a menu of the 
 conversation, like the man in one of Mr. Mallock's 
 books, — all naughty subjects strictly tabooed. 
 Come, Mr. Davenport, let us go and think it out." 
 
 This was the signal for a general uprising. The 
 party broke up into little groups of twos and 
 threes, sitting about under the trees, smoking 
 cigarettes, chatting and laughing, or indulging in a 
 semi-siesta. Mrs. Potter, under the shadiest tree, 
 with plenty of cushions, fans, and other para- 
 phernalia, held a little court. 
 
 Madeleine took the opportunity of the general
 
 The Holy Estate. 123 
 
 shifting to slip away by herself. She followed a 
 narrow, crooked footpath, which wended upward 
 through the jungle, and soon found herself on a 
 little plateau, which opened out a splendid view 
 over the valley and the pine-clad hills. Here she sat 
 down at the foot of one of the heavenward-stretch- 
 ing pines. The warm air was full of its resinous 
 odour. The hills, in the near distance, seemed 
 striving against one another, pushing upward one 
 against another, as though measuring their strength. 
 Beyond them, far away, the snow- crested Hima- 
 layas rode on in their majesty. Their grandeur 
 awed her — these everlasting hills. The sense of 
 God's greatness, of man's littleness, rushed over her 
 as she gazed at them. The frivolous chatter she 
 had left below was all forgotten, even the two 
 great sorrows of her life — her husband's unkind- 
 ness, her child's death — fell into the background. 
 
 " God," she whispered, " what am I, that I should 
 murmur at my cross ? Help me to bear it to the 
 end." 
 
 She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she 
 did not hear a heavy step ascending the footpath 
 behind her. A shadow fell across the sward, and 
 looking up, she saw Sir John Bradford.
 
 124 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " What ! all alone, Mrs. Dampier ?" he cried gaily ; 
 " surely that speaks badly for the gallantry of our 
 young men, to — " 
 
 " There are times when one likes to be alone, Sir 
 John," she broke in, nipping the florid compliment 
 in the bud. " I am used to my own society — and 
 here, one is not alone," she waved her hand towards 
 the hills, " with these grand beauties of nature." 
 
 She could not keep a faint ring of annoyance out 
 of her voice. Why should this man dog her steps 
 like a shadow ? His presence filled her with a 
 vague fear. 
 
 If she thought he would take the hint she was 
 mistaken. He sat down — not without difficulty — 
 at her feet, with his back to the view and his eyes 
 fixed in bold admiration on her face. 
 
 " The most beautiful thing in nature, in my 
 opinion, is a beautiful woman," he said. 
 
 Madeleine flushed with anger. It was too baldly 
 put for her to aflfect to ignore his meaning. 
 
 " Miss L'Estrange is below," she said stiffly. " She 
 likes those speeches. I do not." 
 
 It was an unfortunate thing to say : the moment 
 she had uttered it, she regretted it. Sir John took 
 it as an encouraging sign, a token of jealousy,
 
 The Holy Estate. 125 
 
 thoufjh nothinor could be further from Madeleine's 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Miss L'Estrange 1" echoed Sir John, with a curious 
 smile ; " Miss L'Estrange is charming, but — toujou7's 
 perdrix — you know" — he shrugged his shoulders 
 expressively. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," interrupted Madeleine. " I 
 had no right to speak of Miss L'Estrange. It was 
 ungenerous. I regret it. But have you never 
 heard, Sir John, that men only pay compliments to 
 women whom they don't respect ? " 
 
 " It may be so," he rejoined ; " but the truth is 
 not a compliment." Then, noting her impatient 
 movement, he added, " But let us talk of something 
 else — I am sorry. Do you know, Mrs. Dampier, I 
 was much struck with what you said just now 
 about marriage being love — it is the love which 
 makes the marriage, not the marriage which makes 
 the love. Do you not think so ? " 
 
 " I think," she said slowly — " oh I it does not 
 matter what I think. I was speaking of the ideal. 
 Marriage is too serious a subject to jest about — to 
 me at least." 
 
 " I was not jesting," said Sir John ; " far from it. 
 How can one, when one sees the unhappy marriages
 
 126 TJie Holy Estate. 
 
 all round one ? They are tragedies, and yet they have 
 in them the elements of a farce. There is no greater 
 injustice, it seems to me, than for a woman to be 
 tied to a man who is utterly unworthy of her — who 
 flaunts his infidelities in her face ; there can be no 
 obligation on her part to be true to him — the tie 
 which bound them together he himself has broken." 
 
 Madeleine's lips quivered — she knew to what he 
 alluded, and she resented the allusion inwardly. 
 
 " Two wronors do not make a riofht," she said, 
 with an impersonal air, as though discussing gener- 
 alities. " If one sins, surely that is no reason why 
 the other should do the same. A man — I grant 
 you — is a coward who thus dishonours his wife, 
 because it is impossible, if she be worthy of the 
 name of wife, for her to avenge herself upon him in 
 like manner. No — no ! Marriage is a sacrament. 
 It is the wife's duty to bear all things, hope all 
 things." 
 
 Sir John gnawed his moustache savagely. 
 
 " A sacrament ! " he repeated sardonically — " yes, 
 but of the devil's ordinance sometimes — always, 
 when love is dead — " 
 
 " I do not agree with you," said Madeleine coldly, 
 '' I cannot agree with you. Love is an indefinable
 
 The Holy Estate. 127 
 
 term, and so much depends upon the sense in which 
 it is used. That there are many unhappy marriages, 
 I admit ; but these are the fault of the individuals 
 rather than of the system. But I would rather not 
 discuss the subject — I, of all others, am the least 
 qualified to give an unbiased opinion. It is a plati- 
 tude to say marriage is a lottery ; yet it is. Because 
 one draws a blank, it does not follow that the 
 lottery is unfair — there must be some blanks, I sup- 
 pose, though woe unto those who draw them," she 
 added bitterly. 
 
 Sir John edged himself a little nearer. 
 
 " Woe, indeed," he said, and paused. Then he 
 went on earnestly : " Dear Mrs. Dampier — pardon 
 me, if I say too much ; but I — I feel for you — 
 more than I can say. You are wasting your young 
 life on a — a man who is not worthy to fasten the 
 latchet of your shoes. Why do it ? You owe him 
 nothing — while I — I — " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " cried Madeleine, springing to 
 her feet ; " you must not say these words to me — I 
 must not listen." 
 
 She was indignant at the man's intrusion upon 
 her grief. Was her story, then, common property ? 
 And yet — it would not do to take him seriously —
 
 128 The Holy Estate. 
 
 she must stop him some other way, before he went 
 too far. 
 
 " Sir John," she went on, in a lighter tone, " the 
 day is hot, the champagne cup was excellent — I 
 understand. Now, not another word. Will you 
 let me give you a word of advice ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " yes," and he looked up at her 
 amorously, " I would take even advice from you." 
 
 " It is not mine," she said, in the same light tone, 
 ''it is Voltaire's, one of your favourite teachers, 
 I know : * Make love in your youth ; in old age 
 attend to your salvation.' " 
 
 Sir John shrank back as though struck with a 
 blow. His face was livid with anger. At that 
 moment a " Cooey " sounded down the hill. 
 
 " Ah ! there is Mrs. Potter calling," cried 
 Madeleine gaily. " Good-bye, Sir John ; and let 
 me add to Voltaire's advice a word of my own: 
 don't sit on the grass too long. It is very bad for 
 your rheumatism." 
 
 With a laugh, she turned and ran down the 
 path, leaving Sir John to follow at his leisure. 
 
 " Damn it ! " he said, getting up slowly and 
 mopping his head ; " that check was neatly done. 
 She made me look more like a fool than ever I have
 
 The Holy Estate, 1 29 
 
 done in my life before. I shouldn't have thought 
 she had it in her. And yet, how pretty she looked 
 — the vixen. Never mind, I'll be even with her 
 yet." 
 
 Then he descended the hill, to find Madeleine 
 under the wing of old Lady Fitzpoodle and Mrs. 
 Potter, busily arranging a game of hide-and-seek. 
 Sir John attached himself to Miss L'Estrange's 
 seeking party. But instead of seeking, these two 
 went off to some secluded spot, and indulged in a 
 desperate flirtation all the afternoon. So pro- 
 nounced was it — Sir John being on the rebound — 
 that Laline's hopes rose higher than they had ever 
 done before. 
 
 When at last they were hunted up it was time 
 for tea, and when that was over the whole party 
 rode homewards. The setting sun was flushing 
 rosy-red over the snow-capped hills. 
 
 VOL.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " I WISH you wouldn't fidget so, Laline ; you make 
 
 me quite nervous," irritably exclaimed Mrs. 
 
 Plunkett-Potter, shutting up her book with a snap. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " as something fell with a crash, 
 
 " what have you done now ? " 
 
 It was a few days after the picnic. Mrs. Potter 
 
 and her niece were sitting together in the little 
 
 morning-room, trying to while away the hours 
 
 before tiffin by reading. At least Mrs. Potter had 
 
 been trying to read. Laline was in a strangely 
 
 restless mood. She was hardly in the same position 
 
 a minute together. At first, she made a pretence of 
 
 skimming the Pioneer ^ but soon exhausted it; then 
 
 she sat down to write a letter, but before it was 
 
 half finished she tore it into shreds ; then she 
 
 strummed a bar or two on the piano, but jumped 
 
 up so suddenly as to knock over the photograph of 
 
 Mrs. Potter's pet subaltern, which adorned the top. 
 
 It fell down on the floor with a crash. It was this 
 
 130
 
 The Holy Estate. 131 
 
 last misadventure which called ' forth a protest. 
 Generally Mrs. Potter was not easily roused, especi- 
 ally in the forenoon ; she nursed her energies for 
 later in the day. 
 
 " It's only that ridiculous little Davenport," 
 rejoined Laline coolly, picking up the photograph 
 and sticking it upside down so that little Daven- 
 port's heels pointed upward to the ceiling. She sat 
 down to the piano and began to strum away again. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake leave oflf that exasperating 
 noise ! " cried her aunt. Perhaps it was the con- 
 temptuous treatment of the photograph which 
 stung her. " Please attend to me. I want to have 
 a serious talk with you." 
 
 Laline's hands came down upon the keys with a 
 crash. She swerved round on the music-stool and 
 faced her interrupter. 
 
 " A talk with me ? " she echoed, raisinor her well- 
 arched eyebrows ever so slightly. " How strange ! 
 I thought you said the other day that conversation 
 was an art with men only — with women it was a 
 bore ? " 
 
 "So it is," rejoined Mrs. Potter tartly, " but that 
 doesn't make it any the less a necessity — a dis- 
 agreeable necessity sometimes."
 
 132 The Holy Estate. 
 
 Laline cast down her eyes reflectively. She 
 scented danger in the air. Suddenly she looked 
 up. '' Well," she said. " What is it ? " 
 
 " You were writing a letter just now ? " began 
 Mrs. Potter tentativel}'. 
 
 " I was." 
 
 " And to Captain Goring, was it not ? " 
 
 " Yes ; what of it ? " 
 
 Mrs. Potter resented these laconic utterances. 
 She paused a moment to rally her forces, 
 and then continued with a slight increase of 
 asperity : 
 
 " I want to know how long this sort of thing is 
 to go on ? " 
 
 '' What sort of thing ? Pray be so good as to be 
 a little more explicit," answered Laline, with crush- 
 ing politeness. The light of battle dawned in her 
 eyes nevertheless. 
 
 " You know quite well what I mean ; it is surely 
 unnecessary for me to explain," replied Mrs. Potter 
 petulantly, avoiding her niece's eyes and looking 
 into the fire. " I refer, of course, to your shilly- 
 shallying between that young Goring and Sir John 
 Bradford. It seems to me to go on for ever, and to 
 lead to nothing. It's a long lane, they say, which
 
 The Holy Estate. 
 
 JO 
 
 has no turning, but this turning seems strangely- 
 long in coming." 
 
 Laline bit her beautiful nether lip. An angry 
 retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she checked 
 it. She rose abruptly from her seat and crossed 
 over to the window. It was not a cheerful outlook. 
 Heavy rain was falling, and the great pine trees 
 were weighed down with moisture. The garden- 
 path was running with turbid water, and black 
 clouds were hanging low overhead, shutting out 
 completely the distant hills. The girl drummed 
 her fingers on the pane ; she seemed lost in 
 thought. 
 
 Her aunt watched and waited. 
 
 " I think," said Laline at last, without turning 
 round, " that I am quite capable of managing my 
 own affairs. Surely you ought to know by this 
 time that I do not like to be interfered with — and 
 what is more, I will not," she added with a sudden 
 flash. 
 
 " I am sure I have not interfered with you," 
 cried Mrs. Potter. " Ever since you came out to 
 India you have gone where you pleased, done what 
 you pleased, flirted with whom you pleased, I have 
 never said a word. It is my rule not to do so. A
 
 134 T^t^^ Holy Estate. 
 
 great many girls have come out to me, and they 
 have all done well — either gone Home with a hus- 
 band, or engaged ; and there isn't one of them who 
 can say that I ever meddled unduly — not one. I 
 put matters in train and leave them to take their 
 course. I interfere 1 — not I ! " declared Mrs. Potter, 
 stung with a sense of injustice. 
 
 She paused for an answer and sniffed vigorously 
 at her salts. But seeing that her niece remained 
 obstinately silent, she went on again. 
 
 " But there comes a time when one is forced to 
 intervene — and this vacillation has been going on 
 long enough — too long, in fact. Everyone is talking 
 about it. Lady Fitzpoodle hinted as much to me 
 the other day — not that I need her hints — I have 
 plenty of means of knowing ; even the Colonel has 
 written to remonstrate. Everyone, he says, is 
 talking down at Dustypore. Not that it hurts a 
 girl much to be talked about in India in a general 
 way. A little of it is even necessary to her 
 success ; it is a tribute to it. It depends with 
 whom she is talked about, and Sir John Bradford 
 has hardly the most savoury reputation. Your 
 name is linked with his everywhere; you were 
 away with him at that picnic for nearly two hours.
 
 The Holy Estate. 135 
 
 Now this sort of thinpr can't go on. Does he mean 
 business, or does he not ? I fear he does not — it 
 is my duty to warn you. You will get your wings 
 singed if you don't take care." 
 
 " Your solicitude is most touching," said Laline 
 with curling lip — " or rather it would be, if it were 
 genuine and I had not heard all this before. Let 
 people talk ; what does it matter ? They are sure 
 to talk in any case, and it is just as well they 
 should have some foundation for their gossip by 
 way of a change. As for Sir John Bradford, I 
 know all about him — thank you — and I am quite 
 capable of taking care of myself. He has met his 
 match with me." 
 
 " I have heard that before ; but I never met 
 anyone yet who was his match. A good many 
 women's names have been associated with his, and 
 they have none of them come to any good. He's 
 a most dangerous man. Why, he once nearly com- 
 promised 77ie.'" Laline tossed her head incredu- 
 lously, but Mrs. Potter either did not, or would 
 not, notice the gesture. " And the worst of it is, 
 one does not like to offend him," she rambled on, 
 "he has so much influence botli directly and in- 
 directly — and I have a husband to think of — other-
 
 136 The Holy Estate. 
 
 wise I should have dropped him a hint long ago — 
 in fact, I am not sure that I shall not do so as it 
 is." 
 
 " You dare ! " cried Laline, facing her tormen- 
 tor and emphasising her words with an indignant 
 stamp of the foot. " You dare meddle with my 
 affairs ! Do you understand, I forbid you ! " 
 
 Her voice rose crescendo ; she was not the most 
 "lady-like" of young women when roused. She 
 seemed to lose control of herself at the mere men- 
 tion of this possibility. 
 
 " Dare ! " echoed Mrs. Potter shrilly, the tip of 
 her nose getting quite pink with anger. " How 
 dare yovj — you ungrateful creature, who owe every- 
 thing to me — speak to me like that ! Drop those 
 tragedy-queen airs at once, and listen to what I 
 have to say ! You seem very confident of manag- 
 ing your own afiairs, but it doesn't seem to me 
 that you are. You have been out here now these 
 three years ; you have had more chances — thanks 
 to my excellent management — than any girl I 
 know. You have been more talked about than any 
 girl I know. At one time it seemed you would 
 carry everything before you — but you didn't. 
 Men often flirt most with girls whom they would
 
 The Holy Estate. 137 
 
 least care to marry — or perhaps — well, never mind 
 — the fact remains that at the end of three years 
 you are not married. And I tell you candidly I 
 don't care to be associated with a failure." 
 
 " A failure ! " cried Laline. The word struck her 
 like a blow. 
 
 "Yes, a failure," repeated Mrs. Potter bluntly, 
 noting the advantage she had gained ; " there is no 
 other word for it. A girl with your opportunities 
 — and then at the end of three years to have 
 nothing definite but a captain in a line regiment 
 who has nothing but his pay ! I call that a dead 
 failure — and so does the world. What between 
 your silly infatuation for Goring, and all this 
 scandal about you and Sir John Bradford, you 
 have made a pretty muddle of your chances. And 
 it's high time you knew it," she wound up vindic- 
 tively. 
 
 " I have no intention of marrying a penniless 
 captain in a line regiment — barracks and a bag- 
 gage waggon won't suit me. Penniless captains 
 and beardless subs, are created for the consolation 
 of grass widows and old women," she retorted. 
 " Sooner than that, I would rather marry no one." 
 
 " Tt may end in no one," said Mrs. Potter, now
 
 138 The Holy Estate. 
 
 thoroughly roused. " You'll lose even that chance 
 through your headstrong folly, if you don't take 
 care. I wouldn't have said so three years ago — a 
 year ago even — but now you might do worse than 
 take him — much worse. Some other girl may 
 come to the front soon, and then you will be no- 
 where. After all;: I'm told Captain Goring's a 
 smart soldier, and he may rise — though promotion's 
 slow enough in all conscience if a man has no money 
 — and he's fairly well-born ; there's a baronetcy in 
 the family, I'm told, and he may come in to it. 
 Who knows ? Stranger things have happened." 
 
 " There are two healthy lives between him and 
 the baronetcy," said Laline, as if wrestling with 
 herself. " No — I am not going to wait on the off- 
 chance of slipping into dead men's shoes ; I'm not 
 going to wait until all that is worth living has 
 ebbed out of my life." 
 
 "Then what do you intend to do?" remonstrated 
 her aunt impatiently, " You can't keep him dang- 
 ling on for ever ; it keeps other men off, and, 
 besides, he won't put up with it. You had a letter 
 from him this very morning — you were trying to 
 answer it just now — you needn't contradict me — I 
 know it."
 
 The Holy Estate. 139 
 
 " I have no intention of contradicting you," re- 
 joined Laline defiantly ; " why should I ? I never 
 tell lies except v/hen it suits my purpose, and it 
 would hardly be worth my while to lie to you. 
 The letter was to tell me that Captain Goring is 
 coming up to-day — he may be here by now." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " exclaimed Mrs. Potter, in 
 alarm. " Things are coming to a crisis with a 
 vengeance. You can hardly shijk an explanation ; 
 he's sure to be at the Club dance to-night, and so 
 will Sir John Bradford. Well — you must go your 
 own way. Between the two stools you will come 
 to the ground. I wash my hands of you. You 
 will have to go Home." 
 
 *' Home ! " said Laline to herself blankly. She 
 knew what that mecint. The dilapidated Irish 
 castle — all houses of any size are castles in Ireland 
 — away in the wilds of county Limerick ; her 
 father's eternal grumblings about his unpaid rents, 
 his everlasting squabbles with the priests and the 
 Land League ; her mother's fretful efibrts and dis- 
 astrous failures to make both ends meet ; a herd 
 of half-grown brothers and si-sters, who tare about 
 the place like wild colts, and called her " Lai " ; 
 a second-rate regimental dance once a year in
 
 140 The Holy Estate. 
 
 Limerick, if she could get to it, or a hop at some 
 penniless squireen's, or scarcely more flourishing 
 land-agent's once and again, — these would be the 
 only breaks. So she would go on, year in and year 
 out, until all her beauty was wasted and gone, and 
 she was hopelessly on the shelf. Ugh ! — she shud- 
 dered inwardly at the thought of it. 
 
 " Well," said her aunt again. She had been not- 
 ing the effect of her words. " Well — again I ask, 
 what do you intend to do ? " 
 
 " Do ! " flashed Laline, fairly driven to bay. 
 " Why, what I have always intended to do, marry 
 Sir John Bradford." 
 
 " Humph ! " ejaculated the elder lady with a 
 shrus of her shoulders. " That is easier said than 
 done, I fancy. Sir John is much too old a bird to 
 be caught in a hurry — and from what I saw the 
 other day he seemed very much taken with that 
 Dam pier woman, and the odious husband eggs him 
 on — a bad sign ; your influence may not be so great 
 as you think." 
 
 " That Saint Nitouche ! " exclaimed Laline scorn- 
 fully, showing her hand. " Do you think I shall let 
 her stand in my light ? Why, with her ridiculous 
 prudery she is sure to have a row with him before
 
 The Holy Estate. 141 
 
 long ; I shall catch him on the rebound. I mean 
 to be Lady Bradford, I tell you. I know I am 
 playing a dangerous game, but the stakes are high, 
 and I mean to win them. Do you think I don't 
 know the meaning of the look in that old satyr's 
 eyes ? I know it well enough, and it is on that I 
 shall play. But he will have to pay the legal price 
 for me. He has wealth, power, and position ; I 
 mean to share them — were he twice the old repro- 
 bate he is." 
 
 " Really, Laline ! " exclaimed her aunt, half in 
 admiration, half in deprecation, " what shocking 
 sentiments ; I believe you would sell your soul for 
 money." 
 
 Her niece laughed bitterly. 
 
 " My soul ! " she said ; " don't you think we had 
 better leave our souls out of the question — you and 
 I ? No — I am not going to sell my soul, that is 
 scarcely a marketable article — but I am going to 
 sell myself — and the price I ask is a wedding ring. 
 He is mistaken if he thinks that I shall take any- 
 thing else. I know my value." 
 
 " Really, Laline," protested her aunt again, 
 " what a coarse way you have of putting things. I 
 call it quite indecent."
 
 142 The Holy Estate. 
 
 She took refuge in her salts, and lay back lan- 
 guidly as though her niece's vulgarity were quite 
 too much for her. Mrs. Potter cherished her 
 illusions. 
 
 " Bah ! the truth is always coarse," said Laline 
 recklessly. "Let you and I face it for once — it 
 will be at least a new sensation, as Sir John says. 
 You asked me what I intend to do. I have told 
 you. I am going to sell myself like many another 
 woman whom the world caresses, and not unlike 
 many whom the world shuns. I do my own 
 bargaining; I show off all my points for his in- 
 spection and approval. What matter ? It is done 
 every day. If he buys me, the bridal veil will 
 shroud the bargain with sanctity." 
 
 She paused a moment breathless, and then smote 
 her hands together in a passion of self -scorn. Her 
 voice rose almost to a cry. 
 
 " And I do all this — I — I — when all the while I 
 love another man with every fibre of my being. 
 Surely — surely it were better to be even the unlaw- 
 ful mistress of the man I love, than the lawful wife 
 of the man I loathe, and I do loathe him — ugh ! 
 his very touch is pollution to me — his leer — " 
 
 " I will hear no more," interrupted Mrs. Potter,
 
 The Holy Estate. 143 
 
 recovering herself with an effort. " I am ashamed 
 of you ; such language, such sentiments I have 
 never heard ; I don't approve of them — I will listen 
 no more." 
 
 She rose with an air of dignity to leave the room, 
 but her niece was too quick for her. With her 
 hand on the handle of the door, Laline faced her 
 with glowing eyes. 
 
 " You shall hear me out," she said ; " don't waste 
 your airs of mock virtue on me. Keep them for 
 those who pretend to believe you. I know too much. 
 What I am your vile teaching has made me ; when 
 I am married I shall follow your example doubtless 
 — if I can. It is largely to escape from you that 
 I am doing this. Faugh ! I am sick of it all — the 
 lies, and the backbiting, and the scandal, and the 
 shame — and yet, sick though I am, I am going to 
 perpetrate the greatest shame of all — I am going to 
 sell myself to Sir John Bradford." 
 
 " If you can," retorted Mrs. Potter viciously, 
 white with anger, " if you can — don't be too sure." 
 
 But the Parthian dart was lost on Laline. She 
 had shut the door upon herself, and her retreating 
 footsteps told her aunt that she had gone to her 
 room.
 
 144 The Holy Estate. 
 
 "Dear me," said Mrs. Potter when she had re- 
 covered a little from the tempest, and addressing 
 herself to space, " was there ever such a creature ? 
 I wonder if there is anything definite between her 
 and that old Bradford, or whether it is only bluff 
 after all ? One thing, she'll meet her match if 
 she does catch him. He'll tame her fast enough, 
 and serve her right. Well, I shall be glad to wash 
 my hands of her — the ungrateful minx ! Good 
 gracious ! it is nearly two o'clock, and Bertie 
 Davenport is coming to tiffin. What a wretch I 
 look. I must positively go and titivate a little 
 before he comes. I wonder if he is really going 
 to buy me that cob of the Fitzpoodles' ? "
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It was a hot sultry evening — hot even for Dusty- 
 pore, with the thermometer 110° in the shade. The 
 rains had set in, but there had been a break for 
 some days. Heavy black clouds covered the sky 
 in one dull opaque mass ; the air was so thick that 
 even breathing was attended with a certain amount 
 of difficulty. The roads lay inches thick in dust. 
 The few parched leaves that clung on to the bare 
 brown trees along the roadsides hung withered 
 and motionless. 
 
 Goring, still detained at Dusty pore, rode up to 
 the club from the tennis courts. 
 
 There were one or two men lying limply about, 
 smoking in long armchairs in the verandah, with 
 iced pegs by their sides. They nodded a feeble 
 "good-evening " to him as he entered. 
 
 " Hi ! Kitmatgar, get me a whisky peg with 
 plenty of ice," he said, turning to one of the club 
 servants, " and bring it outside into the verandah. 
 
 VOL. I. 145 K
 
 146 The Holy Estate. 
 
 Hullo ! Wilton, taking it quietly, I see ! '' he 
 
 exclaimed as he noticed a shock of hair peeping up 
 from behind a Pioneer. 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, languidly lowering his 
 paper ; " I feel like a piece of chewed string in this 
 heat. It takes all the ' go ' out of one so infernally. 
 What have you been doing ? " 
 
 " Knocking the balls about at the tennis courts. 
 I think we're going to have a storm presently. It 
 is fairly cool in here, but outside you can almost 
 cut the air with a knife. I think the verandah is 
 cooler. Ah ! here's my drink. Come along. Kit- 
 matgar, bring it out here." 
 
 Goring slowly made his way out to the verandah, 
 and flung himself into a long chair at the end of 
 the row, some little distance from where the others 
 were sitting. 
 
 It grew darker and darker. Presently a blind- 
 ing flash of lightning shot across the sky, followed 
 immediately by a crash of thunder. Then the rain 
 poured down in torrents. 
 
 Just as the storm was at its height, two men 
 entered and seated themselves in chairs close to 
 Goring. They did not notice him in the semi-dark- 
 ness, but he recognised one, a Civil Engineer whom
 
 The Holy Estate. 147 
 
 he knew slightly. The other man he had never 
 seen. 
 
 " Well, we just managed that in time," said the 
 man he knew, as they seated themselves. " I did 
 not think we should do it, and we should have been 
 drenched to the skin in this down-pour. So you've 
 just turned up from Elysium. How is everything 
 going on up there ? " 
 
 " Pretty much the same as usual," replied the 
 other. " I wish I could have stayed up longer. 
 Would you mind touching that bell for me ? Thanks. 
 Yes, we've been having picnics, and dances, and all 
 that sort of thing. I v/as at a picnic the other day, 
 given by Mrs. Potter — 3^ou know her, of course — she 
 is the wife of old Potter who commands one of the 
 regiments here." 
 
 " I remember her years ago up at Simla. She 
 had just passed the age of discretion, and was the 
 rage up there. She has been growing younger and 
 less discreet ever since. I would not be surprised to 
 see her turning up in short frocks, with her hair 
 down her back, one of these days." 
 
 " Yes ? Well, her frocks are short enough now, 
 but they shorten from the neck downwards, instead 
 of upwards."
 
 148 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! But tell me about the picnic. Who 
 was there ? " 
 
 " Let me see," said the Under-Secretary, for he 
 it was ; " oh, yes ! old Bradford was there — the old 
 scoundrel, and — oh ! here you are, bearer — go and 
 get me a cheroot — and Bradford was going it very 
 strong with Laline L'Estrange." 
 
 Goring half moved to get up, but the temptation 
 was too strong. He felt that it was playing rather 
 low to listen to the private conversation of these 
 two men, but we all play low sometimes, even the 
 most upright among us, and he wanted to learn 
 about Laline. Two or three rumours of her 
 escapades had reached his ears, and he wished to 
 hear an outside opinion, quite forgetting that it is 
 in the faults and failings of friends that gossips 
 fatten and batten. He received the reward he de- 
 served, and the one which his common-sense might 
 have told him to expect. He sat straining every 
 nerve to catch what followed, though the constant 
 peals of thunder constantly interrupted his hearing, 
 and the incessant rattle of the rain muffled the 
 voices. 
 
 " Yes," the man continued, " old Bradford is going 
 very strong with ' la belle Laline,' and they say —
 
 The Holy Estate. 149 
 
 well, you know what people do say on these occasions. 
 They go everywhere together, and the last dance 
 I was at she sat out half the evening with him. 
 You know old Bradford is not given to wasting his 
 time on these occasions, and he never goes to dances 
 except to stalk game. Latterly, however, he has 
 rather taken to a Mrs. Dampier — she also, I believe, 
 comes from here — and he and Dampier, the husband, 
 are as thick as thieves — they play ecarte by the 
 hour together — and they say Dampier is very lucky 
 at cards — especially Ecarte ; but old Bradford is 
 hardly the sort of chap to lose his tin witliout a 
 
 quidjpro quo No, I think I will have one 
 
 of these trichies if I may — a light — thanks. All 
 the other fellows are going it strong. Davenport 
 — you know Davenport — won the cup given the 
 other day for tent-pegging, and in the Ladies' Tilt- 
 ing, the L'Estrange won a rippiu' rub}'' bracelet. 
 It was given by old Bradford. It was a foregone 
 conclusion from tiie first. Everyone knew she'd 
 get it, and I heard a woman say that ' Sir John 
 might have had the decency to adopt a less public 
 manner of throwing the apple.' However, we shall 
 see what we shall see. It's diamond cut diamond. 
 The L'Estrange is quite able to take care of herself,
 
 150 The Holy Estate. 
 
 but she's nuts on Bradford What do you 
 
 intend doincj about these estimates ? Atherton 
 says " 
 
 Goring had heard more than he bargained for* 
 Sick at heart he rose to go. Only that morning he 
 had received a letter from Laline which he had at 
 that moment in his pocket, full of protestations of 
 love, and vows of eternal fidelity. This was how 
 scandal said she was behaving in his absence. 
 Where there was so much smoke there must be 
 some fire. 
 
 His emotions w^ere not enviable. But wdth a 
 certain grim sense of justice he felt that he had 
 brought it on himself by stooping to listen. 
 
 Later on the same evening, at mess, the colonel 
 told him that he was looking very seedy, and he 
 jumped at the remark as a possible means of find- 
 ing out the truth. The next morning, he put in an 
 application for ten days' station leave, and to his 
 astonishment and delight it was granted. 
 
 " Now," he said to himself, " I will find out what 
 truth there is in all this. I will go to the fountain 
 head and ask Laline what it all means." 
 
 Two days later Goring arrived in the early 
 morning at the little railway station at the foot of
 
 The Holy Estate. 151 
 
 the hills. He secured a seat in the mail tonga, and 
 was soon travelling up the cart-road as fast as the 
 tonga-ponies could gallop. 
 
 For the last two days, and during all the journey, 
 he had been thinking matters over. The more he 
 thought, the more he wondered how he could have 
 allowed himself and Laline to drift on in the way 
 they had done without coming to any definite 
 conclusion. At one time he would read over the 
 letters he had received from Laline, pages and pages 
 of thick Bath post, and call himself a brute for 
 doubting her, and a mean cad for listening to irre- 
 sponsible statements made by comparative strangers 
 and probably superlative liars. Of course, a peer- 
 less girl like Laline would get talked about, praised 
 and abused, and men would naturally cluster round 
 her like flies round a honey-pot. Yes, there was 
 no doubt he was a brute for thinking ill of her. 
 At another time many little incidents of which he 
 had thought lightly at the time flashed back upon 
 his memory. In the light of subsequent stories 
 these bore a very different aspect. They would 
 force themselves upon him, and then he would 
 wonder how he could have been such a fool as to 
 allow himself to have been made a plaything to
 
 152 The Holy Estate. 
 
 suit the caprice, or vanity, of a heartless coquette. 
 Then he would swear horribly, and utter awful 
 curses anent the sex generally, and Laline in 
 particular. The upshot of it all was that he made 
 up his mind to come to some definite understanding 
 one way or another. 
 
 He knew his way about Elysium, for he had 
 been there on leave before. When he arrived at 
 the final stage, at the foot of the hill, just below 
 the church, he lost no time in getting coolies for 
 his baggage, and made his way to the hotel. 
 
 After he had had a tub and made himself present- 
 able, he sallied forth full of the doughty resolve to 
 *' have it out " with Laline. He had written to say 
 he was coming, so that everything would be plain 
 sailing. When at length he came down the little 
 side path which led to the porch in front of the 
 Potters' bungalow, he did not feel so sure of him- 
 self, and almost wished he had not come. 
 
 He had reckoned without his hostess. The 
 bearer informed him that neither of the ladies were 
 "at home," and that he didn't know when they 
 would be at home. Goring was nonplussed. This 
 was a simple turn of affairs which had not entered 
 into his calculations. Yet it was just the sort of
 
 The Holy Estate. 153 
 
 thing which the astute Laline might have been 
 expected to do. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to wait. He could 
 hardly kick his heels on the Potters' doorstep for 
 hours. As he was wondering what he should do 
 to kill the time, a bright idea struck him — he 
 would go and see Mrs. Dampier. She would 
 probably tell him much of what he wanted to 
 know. 
 
 Upon his arrival at the Dampiers' bungalow he 
 was at once shown into the little drawinof-room. 
 Madeleine was genuinely glad to see him. But she 
 declared herself sorry to see him looking so pulled 
 down and worried. Perhaps she made a shrewd 
 guess at the reason. 
 
 " I only arrived this afternoon by the mail 
 tonga," he said, in response to her inquiry. " I 
 have just been up to see Mrs. Potter, and I'm 
 sorry that neither she nor Miss L'Estrange were at 
 home. I hope neither of them is ill ? " 
 
 " I don't think Miss L'Estrange is ill ; I saw her 
 out riding this morning. She was looking in rude 
 health." 
 
 " With whom was she riding ? " 
 
 Madeleine looked down at the floor.
 
 154 ^^^^ Holy Estate. 
 
 " She was riding with Sir John Bradford.'' 
 
 There was an awkward silence, during which 
 Goring cursed Bradford in his heart. Then he 
 said bluntly : 
 
 " Does she go about much with Bradford ? You 
 will forgive me asking you, but you know how — 
 how fond I am of Lai — of Miss L'Estrange. I have 
 heard a lot of things about her, and about him, that 
 I don't like, and — I know you will tell me." 
 
 Madeleine remained silent for some minutes, and 
 still regarded the floor. She was very indignant 
 with Laline, and intended to tell Goring the truth. 
 But she wanted to break it as gently as possible. 
 She answered ambiguously. 
 
 " Well, Captain Goring, Miss L'Estrange is a 
 girl who likes admiration, and Sir John Brad- 
 ford admires her a good deal. I think it a pity 
 that she should allow their names to be coupled 
 — in the way people do couple them. But you 
 know she is very careless of conventionalities, and 
 Mrs. Potter is hardly the wisest adviser for a girl 
 to have." 
 
 Goring had heard enough. He understood all 
 that was implied in this brief speech. He bowed 
 his head on his hands.
 
 The Holy Estate. 155 
 
 " I wouldn't have minded so much if it had been 
 anyone else, but a brute like Bradford," he said 
 presently. " Great Heavens, it is enough to drive 
 a fellow mad ; the worst of it is I am powerless to 
 interfere. There is no acknowledged engagement 
 between us." 
 
 " I am truly sorry for you," replied Madeleine ; 
 " more sorry than I can say. I can sympathise 
 with you ; I do sympathise with all my heart. As 
 for Sir John Bradford, do you know I simply loathe 
 the sight of him. He makes me feel frightened 
 whenever he comes near me, and I shudder when- 
 ever he touches me. The worst of it is my husband 
 and he are great friends, and he is always here. So 
 you see you are not alone in your trouble." 
 
 " I heard something about it down at Dustypore — 
 at the club — but then one never believes what one 
 hears at the club," said Goring, forgetting that it 
 was club gossip which had brought him all the way 
 up to Elysium. 
 
 Mrs. Dampier flushed. Was her name bandied 
 about at the clubs ? 
 
 " It is true that he has been trying to force upon 
 me his odious society, and, when I let him see how 
 I dislike him, it seems to add fuel to the fire ; but
 
 156 The Holy Estate. 
 
 noching more," jshe exclaimed indignantly. " My 
 husband wishes me to be civil to him, and that 
 makes it the more difficult for me to shake him off. 
 I suppose it all comes in with one's life, and must 
 be gone through," she added bitterly. 
 
 There was a sound of voices outside, and an out- 
 burst of laughter. Madeleine looked up with a start 
 as the door opened and Dampier, accompanied by 
 Sir John Bradford, entered the room. 
 
 " Talk of the devil," said Goring, beneath his 
 breath. 
 
 " Ah ! Madeleine,'' exclaimed Dampier in a jocular 
 tone, " Sir John is going to relieve our dulness by 
 dropping in to dine with us to-night, before the 
 dance, and — Hullo ! is that you Goring ? I never 
 
 saw you — When did you turn up ? Captain 
 
 Goring — Sir John Bradford Oh! Madeleine, 
 
 Sir John has come to ask you to ride with him this 
 afternoon. I told him that I thought you would 
 be delighted." 
 
 " If Mrs. Dampier would honour me," said Sir 
 John, grinning. 
 
 Mrs. Dampier had risen, and was standing rigidly 
 in front of the fireplace, with anything but a de- 
 lighted expression on lier face.
 
 The Holy Estate, 157 
 
 " I am afraid," sbe said, addressing her husband, 
 "that Sir John must excuse me. I do not feel 
 inclined to ride to-day. I am going down to the 
 courts presently." 
 
 " Nonsense, Madeleine ; I am sure a ride will do 
 you far more good. I know she is keen on it. Sir 
 John, but women love to be urged to do anything. 
 
 Now, run and put on your habit I've 
 
 ordered them to saddle your pony," he added, in a 
 lower tone. 
 
 There was a covert menace in his look as he said 
 this, and Sir John Bradford redoubled his entreaties. 
 Madeleine looked helplessly from one to the 
 other. 
 
 " I think I will be going," said Goring to her, as 
 she turned to obey her husband's command. " Good- 
 bye, Mrs Dampier. I hope I may see you soon 
 again." 
 
 There was a world of sympathy in his cordial 
 handshake, but Madeleine was too bewildered to 
 notice it. 
 
 Goring had noted everything, and the hor- 
 ror of the thing drove, for one moment, even 
 the thought of Laline's infidelities from his 
 head.
 
 158 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " What an infernal cad Dampier is," he thought 
 to himself, as, with a curt nod to the two men — 
 which Sir John did not even trouble to acknow- 
 ledge — he took his leave.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Elysium club stood out in a blaze of light at 
 the foot of the slope leading from the church. 
 Here and there, all over the sides of the surround- 
 ing hills, little lights danced up and down as the 
 syces carried lanterns before their sahibs and mem- 
 sahibs, on their way to the dance. 
 
 The large dining-room of the club had been 
 turned into a ball-room for the occasion. The 
 floor thereof had, for the last three or four days, 
 been undergoing a severe course of preparation — 
 of bottling, waxing, and French chalk. It now 
 shone like a mirror. The corridors and verandahs 
 had been partitioned off with curtains and plants, 
 so as to form a number of artfully contrived dimly- 
 lighted kala-jugahs. 
 
 The "magnificent band" of the 111th (Prince 
 Heinrich Von Seidlitz's) Regiment was in attend- 
 ance. Elysium had already mustered in force, and 
 
 every moment brought reinforcements. 
 159
 
 i6o The Holy Estate. 
 
 Strains of the first dance were pealing out into 
 the night, telling those who were late that the 
 dance had begun. Goring, who had come betimes, 
 was leaning against the wall, in a corner of the 
 room, moodily stroking his moustache, and keenly 
 watching the arrivals. Suddenly his eyes fell on 
 her for whom he waited. Laline and Mrs. Potter, 
 the latter gorgeously garbed, entered the room. 
 Laline was immediately surrounded by a swarm of 
 men clamouring for dances, but Goring lost no time 
 in elbowing his way through the throng. Their 
 eyes met for a moment ; he fancied he saw in hers 
 a shade of defiance — but it was only for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 She greeted him with a cordial nod and smile. 
 
 "I've kept three for you," she cried laughingly, as 
 she was whisked ofi" by her partner, who did not 
 relish losing half his dance. 
 
 Goring watched her in the crowd of dancers. 
 How lovely she was ; how superbly she moved. All 
 previous doubt and resentment faded from his mind, 
 and the old love crept back to his heart again. 
 What if she had been amusing herself a little in his 
 absence ? He would forgive her everything — every- 
 thing, if only he might take her in his arms again,
 
 The Holy Estate. i6i 
 
 and feel her lips meet his. She caught the look in 
 his eyes, as she passed him in the dance, and smiled. 
 She knew that her task would be easy. 
 
 The room was now full of people. As Goring 
 made his way along he caught sight of Mrs. Dam- 
 pier. She had just come in, with Sir John Bradford 
 in close attendance. She was wearing a very pretty 
 grey dress, and was carrying a bouquet of white 
 roses. But her face was whiter than the roses. 
 
 On the way to the dance her husband, coming 
 alongside of her jam-jpan, had said to her : 
 
 " I wish you to be civil to Sir John Bradford. 
 You were sulky at dinner. I'm sorry you don't 
 seem to take to him, for he's a useful man ; there 
 are lots of women who would only be too glad 
 to be civil to him. As I have said before, it is 
 necessary to my plans that you should keep him in 
 a good temper — absolutely necessary, so no more of 
 your damned airs, if you please." 
 
 So Madeleine was letting Sir John Bradford 
 write down his name on her card against four 
 dances — not that he ever danced, that would have 
 been bad enough, but he insisted on sitting them 
 out with her, which was worse. He had just given 
 her back her programme when Goring came up. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 1 62 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " I'm not dancing much this evening," said 
 Madeleine, in answer to his request, " hut put your 
 name down by all means — against as many as 
 possible ; you needn't claim them," she added in a 
 whisper, with a glance at Sir John. 
 
 " Come, Mrs. Dampier, let us go over to that 
 settee at the other end of the room," put in that 
 worthy, who was impatiently hovering around. 
 " We can watch the dancing better from there." 
 
 "Is it worth watching?" asked Madeleine wearily. 
 " I hardly think that an ordinary waltz realises 
 one's idea of the poetry of motion, does it?" 
 
 But she allowed him to lead her away all the 
 same. 
 
 " Well I don't know," said Sir John, seating him- 
 self by her side. " I rather like watching other 
 men dance. They look such fools — look at that 
 man there, throwing his legs about like a Chinese 
 puzzle. If he only saw himself as we see him, 
 nothing would induce him to dance again. And 
 yet, I know the man — he's really not a fool, ex- 
 cept when he's dancing." 
 
 "Is that the reason why you never dance?" 
 Madeleine asked with a smile as she looked at the 
 grotesque figure squatting by her side.
 
 TJie Holy Estate. 163 
 
 " Some years ago I went to a dance. Providen- 
 tially, a row of mirrors ran round the room. I 
 saw myself then, and forswore dancing. But look, 
 there is old Lady Fitzpoodle in an animated con- 
 versation with Mrs. Potter. See how they beam 
 and smirk at one another. They hate one another 
 really. But they have struck up an alliance for 
 offensive purposes only. I am sure they are de- 
 molishing some dear friend's character from the 
 enjoyment on their faces. Boadicea has probably 
 scented out something delectably nasty about some- 
 one. To the virtuous, you know, everything is 
 vicious. And Lady Fitzpoodle, we all know, is 
 virtue incarnate. It would be an insult to mascu- 
 line taste to suppose her otherwise." 
 
 " What a low opinion you seem to have of 
 human nature, Sir John," replied Madeleine, with 
 a forced laugh. Was this man going to shoot 
 at her his ponderous epigrams all the even- 
 ing ? "I don't believe you give anyone credit 
 for—" 
 
 " For being what they are not. That is true, 
 Mrs. Dampier. I generally look upon my fellow- 
 men as fools or knaves until I find they are not. 
 And it is very seldom that I am wrong. Now you
 
 1 64 The Holy Estate. 
 
 I am sure, look on your friends as altogether de- 
 lightful, until you find them out. Don't you think 
 my plan is the better of the two— for surely it is 
 much nicer to be agreeably disappointed than un- 
 pleasantly taken in." 
 
 " You assume too much ; I have very few friends, 
 and I have never been unpleasantly taken in by any 
 of them ; after all, it very much depends on oneself," 
 said Madeleine nervously, playing with her bouquet. 
 " There is quite enough of the disagreeable element 
 in the world without going out of one's way to look 
 for it. You apparently look for the bad side of 
 things, and, naturally enough, you find it. You 
 must have had an unfortunate experience, for you 
 seem to have no faith in anyone." 
 
 " I have not," he rejoined drily. " Faith is 
 believing, or trying to believe, that which you feel 
 to be absolutely untrue. The more impossible a 
 thing is, the greater the faith. That is also religion. 
 
 But we are getting much too serious I see 
 
 Lady Fitzpoodle levelling her pince-nez in this 
 direction. Here she comes. She has stalked us 
 
 down How d'ye do, Lady Fitzpoodle ? I 
 
 am rejoiced to see you looking so well. But then 
 you always look well; how do you manage it, I
 
 The Holy Estate. 165 
 
 wonder? Mrs. Dampier and I have been having 
 an animated discussion concerning the qualities of 
 our friends." 
 
 " Not their good qualities, I am sure," said Lady 
 Fitzpoodle, with a sour smile, ranging herself angu- 
 larl}^ like a soldier shouldering arms. " I think 
 people are most unkind ; scandal is a thing I am 
 always careful to avoid," she added, sniffing the air. 
 " But I must say Mrs. Potter ought to be more 
 careful in the way she goes on with that young 
 Davenport. Do you know, I saw her disappear 
 into a kala-jugali with him quite early in the 
 evening. A mere boy ; she is old enough to be his 
 mother. And the way she wheedles presents out of 
 him too. She ought to be ashamed of herself. I 
 caught sight of her card just now, and there was 
 nothing but a row of D's all down it." 
 
 Sir John Bradford gave a short laugh. 
 
 " I think Mrs. Potter is delightful," he said, 
 knowing that to praise the fair Potter to Lady 
 Fitzpoodle was like waving a red flag to a bull ; 
 " her aoje has nothinof to do with it. Women are 
 no older than they look ; years have no effect 
 on her; she has not changed in the least since I 
 first knew her, and that was — I am afraid to say
 
 1 66 The Holy Estate. 
 
 how long ago. She was then just as skittish as 
 she is now, or perhaps not so much so. Her 
 colour is a trifle fresher maybe, but what would 
 you have ? " 
 
 " Well, I call painting a most disgusting habit," 
 declared Lady Fitzpoodle, looking down com- 
 placently on her goose-flesh arms. " I think it is 
 absolutely indecent the way that woman paints 
 herself. It can only be done for one pur- 
 pose — " 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 " To decoy those silly boys. It is disgrace- 
 
 The music stopped. 
 
 "So endeth the second dance," said Sir John, 
 as the final bars died out. " Lady Fitzpoodle, we 
 will continue our interesting conversation in our 
 next." 
 
 The ball-room emptied rapidly. The dancers 
 sought out the cool verandahs and corridors, leaving 
 only a few people, mostly chaperons, sitting about 
 in the corners. But the silence did not last long, 
 for the band suddenly struck up a lively polka, and 
 everyone trooped back into the room. 
 
 " Shall we go outside into the verandah, Mrs.
 
 The Holy Estate. 167 
 
 Dampier ? " asked Sir John, with an inviting 
 leer. 
 
 But Madeleine was spared a refusal by her partner 
 appearing to claim her, and Sir John had perforce 
 to resign his position.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The hours, even in a ball-room, sometimes dance 
 with leaden feet, but since even the most laggard 
 steps trend towards their goal, so, in spite of the 
 apparently never-ending probation, Goring's dance 
 with Laline at last came due. 
 
 His eyes had followed her with jealous admira- 
 tion all the evening. He was prejudiced perhaps, 
 but even to eyes less blinded by passion than his, 
 Laline's beauty was notable. Once or twice, in the 
 course of a dance, when she paused to enable her 
 partner to get a breath — dancing never seemed to 
 have the slightest effect on her — he caught her 
 eyes resting on him. It was a fleeting glance, which 
 passed in a second, but brief though it was it sent 
 him into a seventh heaven of delight. 
 
 " Come," he said, when at last he came to claim 
 his dance. " Let us sit out ; I have much to say. I 
 will show you a place where we can talk undis- 
 turbed, a splendid Jcala-jugah which very few here 
 i68
 
 The Holy Estate. 169 
 
 have discovered. I came over here this afternoon, 
 when you turned me away from your door," he went 
 on reproachfully, "to help them to decorate the 
 place— or rather to kill the time— and I made up 
 this kala-jugah myself." 
 
 " With an eye to the evening ? " she asked, laugh- 
 ing, but a little nervously withal. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 They came to a small conservatory at the end of 
 one of the passages, with some lohidkaries draped 
 over the door. 
 
 "We can't get in there," he said; "that is the 
 beauty of the place. We must come out here, 
 and we slip in by a side door from the path." 
 
 They entered the little conservatory. The door 
 was open, but a heavy curtain hung across it. 
 
 Inside, a solitary Chinese lantern threw a dim 
 fantastic light on the many-coloured hangings with 
 which the walls were draped. They seated them- 
 selves on a low divan, covered with a rug of silver- 
 fox skins. 
 
 " This is really delightful, Kenneth," cried Laline, 
 clapping her hands with well-feigned astonishment 
 and delight ; " how did you manage to build a cosy 
 nest like this ? and for me too — how sweet of you.
 
 I/O The Holy Estate. 
 
 It is so beautifully hidden away. The very air 
 seems suggestive of lovers' trysts and privy con- 
 spiracy." 
 
 She omitted to mention that Sir John Bradford 
 had brought her to this very place a little time 
 before. It would have destroyed the illusion, and 
 it wasn't necessary. She nestled a little closer to 
 Goring as she spoke, and lifted her face invitingly 
 to his. She felt a little nervous as to what he 
 might say next, but she trusted to propinquity to 
 work its spell. 
 
 He did not seem in a hurry to respond to the 
 gesture. 
 
 " That is a very pretty bracelet," he said coldly, 
 taking her hand in his and looking at it critically. 
 "I suppose it is the one that old Bradford gave you?" 
 
 " Yes. I won it as a prize at tilting," she replied 
 quietly. " All the other women were green with 
 envy. I suppose one of them told you about it. 
 It's awfully pretty, isn't it ? " 
 
 Her soft answer turned away his wrath. The 
 witchery of her presence was beginning to tell on 
 him again. 
 
 " I wish I could afford to give you presents like 
 that, Laline," he said jealously.
 
 The Holy Estate. 171 
 
 He slipped his arm round her waist, and still 
 held her hand. 
 
 "You silly boy," she whispered, nestling up to 
 him with a soft laugh, " you will have quite enough 
 to do with your money when we are married, with- 
 out spending it now. If Sir John chooses to be so 
 kind — and so silly," she added as an afterthought, 
 " as to waste his money on bracelets, that is no 
 reason why you should do so. Quite the reverse. 
 I know you love me, and your love is more precious 
 to me than rubies." 
 
 Her eyes were full of soft light. Her head leant 
 against his shoulder. He drew her closer to him 
 — closer. Their lips clung into a kiss. The faint 
 sounds of a waltz floated in through the heavy 
 curtains. The kala-jugah was transformed into an 
 enchanted bower. 
 
 In spite of Laline's avowed determination to 
 marry Bradford, and her contemptuous sneer to her 
 aunt about the folly of becoming the wife of 
 a penniless captain in a line regiment, notwith- 
 standing her level-headedness in all matters which 
 affected the ultimate disposal of herself, there was 
 one factor which she had left out of her calculations. 
 Deep down in her nature, hidden beneath llie crusts
 
 1/2 The Holy Estate. 
 
 of selfish ambition, of keen appreciation of the 
 world's ways, and of hard experience in her short 
 dealings with them, lay a strong vein of impulse 
 and passion, which was only kept dormant by the 
 artificial restraint which she had put upon herself. 
 Her indifference, her contemptuous disregard of 
 those qualities which form so large an element in 
 most women's lives, was purely and simply a mat- 
 ter of education and environment. Her natural 
 emotions were all the other way. 
 
 " How long is this going to last, Laline ? " said 
 Goring presently, breaking the silence. She was 
 still leaning against him, her bosom heaving, her 
 eyes half-closed. She looked up into his face 
 dumbly. She felt his hand tremble as he continued. 
 " Do you never think what it is to me to be kept 
 away from you as I have been — to meet you by 
 stealth, and every kiss a stolen one ? It can't go on. 
 For both our sakes, tell me — let me have a definite 
 answer now — may I give out our engagement, and 
 put an end to all this double dealing ? " 
 
 If marriage were not an affair of church, cake, 
 canonical hours, and all the rest of it, she would 
 have been married then and there — but — there is 
 always a "but " in these cases — it was past mid-
 
 The Holy Estate. 173 
 
 night, a most uncanonical hour — and the church 
 was far away on the top of the hill — and they were 
 in a hcda-jugah, with some hundred and fifty people 
 dancing a few yards away. 
 
 All Laline's artificialities and ambitions were for 
 the nonce laid aside, all the vague dreams of a 
 brilliant future, of a rich husband of title and 
 position — everything was forgotten, except that she 
 was in the strong arms of the one man in the 
 world whom she loved, and who loved her. With 
 a little quivering sigh she hid her face in his 
 breast. 
 
 ** It shall be as you wish," she whispered. And 
 she meant it then. How sweet are the words of 
 truth whispered by the lips of love. The gods 
 laugh, it is said, at lover's lies. They must have a 
 merry time of it. 
 
 When some time later Laline and Goring found 
 their way to the supper-room, they came across Sir 
 John Bradford and Lady Fitzpoodle still hard at it. 
 Both had been rather more than supping, and had 
 demolished at least a dozen reputations, and two 
 bottles of champagne. Sir John looked up at Laline 
 as she entered. There was a bright flush on her 
 cheek, and she was wreathed in smiles. An unmis-
 
 174 T^he Holy Estate. 
 
 takable light shone in Goring's eyes. His face 
 wore a look of ineffable content. 
 
 " So the kitten has been at the cream again," Sir 
 John muttered maliciously, "and she has hardly 
 finished licking her lips. There is room here, Miss 
 L'Estrange," he said aloud ; "the ball-room is too hot 
 for anything. Dancing has deepened your delicious 
 roses," he added with a little laugh. 
 
 Lady Fitzpoodle bridled and waggled her plumes. 
 
 Goring looked furious at this impertinence, but 
 Laline laughingly replied : 
 
 "Dancinof's much better for one, Sir John, than 
 sitting about in draughty passages as you have 
 been doing. Me ! I shall tell Sir Augustus I saw 
 you and Lady Fitzpoodle out in the garden ; you'll 
 both have bad colds to-morrow." 
 
 " Lady Fitzpoodle and I are much too careful of 
 our healths and our reputations to risk them as you 
 suggest," answered Sir John, with mock gravity. 
 " Are we not ? " 
 
 " Speak for yourself, if you please. Sir John," 
 snapped Boadicea, severely, tossing off the rest of her 
 champagne. " From what one sees, sitting-out seems 
 to be the piincipal object of these dances. It was 
 very difierent in my young days."
 
 The Holy Estate. 175 
 
 " It is very shocking, very shocking indeed," Sir 
 John responded, shaking his head. " The world is 
 sadly degenerate, and this particular little corner of 
 it most degenerate of all. But morals, they say, are 
 simpl}^ a matter of climate." 
 
 " I am sure whoever said that must have been 
 thinking of India — and of Elysium in particular. 
 Don't you think so, Lady Fitzpoodle ? " cried Laline. 
 " It's not so warm up here ; we have both climate 
 and company; but just think how dreadful it 
 would be if we were all given over to icy virtue. 
 The sinners are much more amusing than the saints, 
 don't you think ? " 
 
 " They are striking up a new dance. Will you 
 kindly take me into the next room, Sir John ? " said 
 Lady Fitzpoodle, ignoring the remark and rising 
 with dignity. 
 
 "Ah, here comes Lord Kilkenny," exclaimed 
 Laline presently ; " our dance, I think — yes— I 
 have quite finished. Well, ta-ta, Kenneth; shall 
 meet again before the evening is over. Don't 
 forget the extras." 
 
 By the time her dance with Lord Kilkenny was 
 over, and he had given her a tip for Viceroy's Cup 
 — Lord Kilkenny's tips were always straight — when
 
 176 The Holy Estate, 
 
 intended — the recent fit of tenderness that had 
 swayed Laline during her half-hour with Goring 
 began to wear off. She almost repented having 
 given herself away. As her reasoning faculties 
 came into play, the dreary realities of being a poor 
 man's wife flitted before her mind again. She knew 
 them well. They would have to save money for 
 her to go up to the Hills for the hot weather — if 
 she could get there at all — and the prospect of going 
 Home was more appalling still. And how she would 
 be snubbed as the wife of a poor man in a line 
 regiment. Even if they scraped up enough to get 
 home on leave, they would have to hack about at a 
 third-rate watering-place, or Kensington -bey ond- 
 Jordan lodgings, and count every penny they spent 
 for the remainder of their lives. In India her 
 whole life would be centred in the regiment, such as 
 it was. She would have to listen with pretended in- 
 terest to the news that Jones thought of sending in 
 his papers, or that Brown was going on the staff. 
 Her husband would have to give up polo in order 
 to marry her, exchange one luxury for another in 
 point of fact. 
 
 Lord Kilkenny, who had had many tender pas- 
 sages with her, found her now positively dull, and
 
 The Holy Estate, 177 
 
 confided to one of his boon companions later on 
 that "the L'Estrange filly was going stale — hang 
 it!" 
 
 But she wasn't thinking of Lord Kilkenny just 
 then. 
 
 " Oh ! what a fool Kenneth is, not to be able to 
 see things in a proper light," she thought, as she 
 mechanically answered Lord Kilkenny's sallies. 
 " Why does he insist on marrying me ? Why can't 
 he see that with marriage all our illusions will dis- 
 appear ? And it might be so different ; we might 
 help each other so much more if he would only — 
 but he won't — it's no use." 
 
 Meanwhile Goring was sitting an unconscionable 
 time at the supper-table, where Laline had left him, 
 mechanically consuming bumpers of the gooseberry- 
 and - petroleum which did duty for champagne. 
 Tiiere is a theory that people may be too happy 
 to eat, but Goring demolished the drum-stick of 
 a stringy old hen with relish. His success gave 
 him quite a fillip. He looked at his card bj^-and- 
 by, and asked a man sitting near him the number 
 of the dance which was going on now. He found 
 that his card was vacant for the next two dances, 
 then Mrs. Dampier would be his partner, then two 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 The Holy Estate. 
 
 more vacancies, and then, once more, Laline and all 
 the extras. He felt in the seventh heaven, a state 
 of mind partially due to Laline, and partially due 
 to the gooseberry. He wanted to tell someone very 
 much, though probably no one wanted to listen. 
 He would tell Mrs. Dampier. Mrs. Dampier was 
 the sort of person who was always supposed to 
 sympathise with other people's joys, probably be- 
 cause she never had any of her own. In the mean- 
 time he would stroll into the card-room and see 
 what they were doing there. It would make the 
 time go quicker. 
 
 In the card-room there were two lots of people 
 playing whist and smoking like furnaces, and in a 
 corner, through the dense smoke, he caught a glimpse 
 of Dampier plucking a pigeon at ecarte. One of 
 the whist parties had just finished a rubber when 
 Goring entered, and he was asked to " cut in " as one 
 of the four had to go. He thought it would be a 
 good plan to kill the time, and took a hand. When 
 the rubber was over, he found to his disgust that 
 half the dance Mrs. Dampier had promised him was 
 already through. He hurried to the ball-room, and 
 was relieved to find the object of his quest talking 
 earnestly with another woman, as though she had
 
 The Holy Estate, 179 
 
 forgotten his existence. What else could she do, 
 poor thing ? Surely he didn't expect to find her 
 looking out for him like Mariana in the " Moated 
 Grange ? " He was profuse with his apologies, which 
 she accepted with a certain amount of frigidity. 
 She was but human after all. 
 
 " Do you mind sitting-out ? " he said, as they 
 moved away. 
 
 She did mind very much, for she had been sitting- 
 out nearly all the evening, but she said she didn't. 
 
 " I have some splendid news to tell you," he went 
 on ; "I know you will be glad. Come, I will take 
 you to my own pet kala-jugah, where we will be 
 able to talk undisturbed." On the way thither — 
 he couldn't wait till he got there — he told her that 
 he was definitely engaged to Laline, and that she 
 had promised to marry him as soon as the necessary 
 arrangements were completed. Madeleine had 
 hardly time to put her congratulations into words 
 — or to decide whether it was a matter for con- 
 gratulation or not — when they reached the halci' 
 jugah. 
 
 As Goring lifted the curtain they heard certain 
 osculatory sounds from within, and a smothered 
 voice — Laline's voice — say laughingly :
 
 iSo TJie Holy Estate. 
 
 " Don't, Sir John, you are crushing my flowers. 
 
 How rough you are There, that 
 
 will do — surely." 
 
 For a moment Goring stood motionless — trans- 
 fixed — with Mrs. Dampier on his arm. The occu- 
 pants of the kala-jugah were far too intent to notice 
 the intruders. Then Laline, hearing a movement 
 in the doorway, and seeing the 'purdah move, 
 pushed Sir John away, and sprang up and con- 
 fronted them. Sir John sat tight. For a second — 
 a second only — they faced one another. Then 
 Goring muttered, " Well I'm damned ! " and dropped 
 the curtain. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mrs. Dampier," he said con- 
 tritely as they turned awa}^ " I forgot myself. 
 More than that, I find I have made a mistake. 
 I was a little hasty in what I said just now," he 
 added, with a short hard laugh, as they turned into 
 the verandah. " You must forget all about it. We 
 are all liable to make mistakes sometimes, even the 
 wisest among us — is it not so ? " 
 
 Madeleine did not speak. She only put her hand 
 on his arm in mute sympathy. She could feel him 
 trembling, the dim light of the lanterns were not 
 so dim but that she could see he was white to the
 
 The Holy Estate. i8l 
 
 lips. Her woman's instinct told her that the man 
 wished to hide his pain, and just then any words of 
 hers would but add to it. 
 
 So they stood side by side in silence. It was a 
 positive relief to them both when the band struck 
 up again, and they could go back to the ball- 
 room. 
 
 He left her there and went off to the smoking- 
 room. It was almost empty. He ordered a drink 
 lighted a big cheroot, and sat down to think it out. 
 His thoughts all brought him round to the same 
 point. 
 
 When his next dance with Laline came round, he 
 went up to her and claimed it as though nothing 
 had happened. 
 
 " Will you come outside ? " he asked quietly. '* I 
 have something to say to you." 
 
 She took his arm without a word. The 
 crisis had come at last. Well, she must face 
 it. 
 
 " Why have you treated me like this ? " he said 
 slowly, when they stood together on the gravel path 
 under the stars — " but we will not discuss it. I 
 suppose you know best. It's no use crying over 
 spilt milk — and so ends our story."
 
 1 82 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " The pity is that it ever began," she said bitterly, 
 
 in a stifled voice. 
 
 " I agree with you," he broke in curtly, " if — " 
 But she waited to hear no more. She turned on 
 
 her heel and left him.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The big clock in the club dining-room had just 
 struck the hour of 10 a.m. Captain Dampier was 
 leaning back in one of the long arm-chairs in the 
 verandah, smoking. He was gazing fixedly at the 
 distant snow-capped peaks now dazzling white in 
 the bright morning sun. To one who was not 
 acquainted with Captain Dampier it would have 
 appeared that he was admiring the beauties of 
 nature, but he was not given that way. Nothing 
 was further from his thoughts. 
 
 A crisis had arrived in his affairs which rendered 
 his continued sojourn in the East most undesirable. 
 But getting away from India — or from anywhere 
 — is no easy matter, when other people are in- 
 terested in your remaining. To put it shortly. 
 Captain Dampier was meditating a bolt, and how 
 to make the bolt without unnecessary fuss was 
 occupying his mind now. He had already arrived 
 
 at a possible solution of his difficulties, but it was 
 
 183
 
 184 T^he Holy Estate. 
 
 dangerous, he thought, very dangerous. Success 
 meant freedom, but failure might mean penal 
 servitude. He had no money to speak of, and, 
 unfortunately, one cannot bolt without it — not 
 even Captain Dampier. He could sell his horses, 
 but to do that would raise suspicion. Money he 
 determined to procure somehow or another, and 
 when it is absolutely necessary for men of Captain 
 Dampier's type to have money, they do not stick 
 at trifles to get hold of it. 
 
 " Yes, I must chance it," he muttered between his 
 teeth. " I'll go the whole hog, and trust to 
 Madeleine to keep old Bradford quiet after — 
 when I have cleared off. I see no other way. I 
 wish he would turn up — ah ! here he comes, the 
 old devil." 
 
 "The old devil" was riding down the road at a 
 fast trot, and as he turned into the compound gate, 
 a syce, who had been crouching at a corner of the 
 verandah, sprang up and went forward to hold his 
 pony. 
 
 " Mornin', Dampier," he exclaimed, in a cheery 
 voice, that jarred on the other's mood. " I hope I 
 haven't kept you waiting. Your wife and I have 
 had a delightful ride. I saw her home and came
 
 The Holy Estate. 185 
 
 on here. Come, let us go in and get some breakfast, 
 and after that we will get to business — business, 
 business," he repeated, with a laugh. 
 
 He was in an excellent humour, for Madeleine 
 had been bullied into being amiable to him at last. 
 Her husband had told her bluntly that if she 
 offended Bradford in any way it meant absolute 
 ruin to him. He did not go into explanations, but 
 merely stated the fact. She, poor woman, was so 
 frightened tliat she braced herself up to the 
 effort, and made herself so amiable and charm- 
 ing, that Sir John was on the point of asking 
 her to ride with him to Clarkson's — the great 
 Elysium jeweller — to choose a bracelet. He only 
 hesitated because he thought it might do better 
 to-morrow. 
 
 There were several others in the breakfast-room 
 when the two men entered. Breakfast in India is 
 on much the same line as " dejeuner " in Paris. 
 Unlike the gloomy meal at Home, it is a convivial 
 feed. The feeders were discussing the last dance, 
 and the forthcoming races. 
 
 " You are entering two or three animals, aren't 
 you ? " said one of them to Darapier. 
 
 "Yes, I have three brutes, of sorts, running,
 
 1 86 The Holy Estate. 
 
 but I don't think any of them will have much of a 
 chance." 
 
 " Tell that to the handicappers/' replied the 
 other, with a laugh. " What do you think, Sir John ? 
 Dampier's swans seldom turn out to be geese." 
 
 " They will this time, as you will see," retorted 
 Dampier, with an indifferent shrug. If his plans 
 turned out as he hoped, he would be a thousand 
 miles away before the races came off. 
 
 " I see Goring of your regiment has turned up," 
 said a man who had not spoken. " I wonder if 
 there is really anything between him and Laline 
 L'Estrange ? " 
 
 " If by * anything ' you mean matrimony, I 
 think you are doing great injustice to Miss 
 L'Estrange's mental attainments," Sir John Bradford 
 broke in with a laugh. " With all deference to the 
 charming lady in question, I think she undoubtedly 
 knows her value in the matrimonial market," he 
 chuckled — " and that her price is above rubies I 
 know to my cost," he muttered to himself. 
 
 By-and-by the other men finished their break- 
 fast and went into the verandah to smoke. Sir 
 John and Dampier were left alone. 
 
 " Now I think we can get to business," said Sir
 
 The Holy Estate. 18-7 
 
 John, turnincf his chair sideways so as to face 
 Dampier. " I always make a point of watching a 
 man's face when I'm doing business with him," he 
 once said. 
 
 " Well, the matter stands like this," said Dampier, 
 looking down. " You owe me two hundred over 
 ecart^, and you are to give me three hundred for a 
 half share in my horses' winnings during next 
 week's races, taking all risks. This of course is a 
 private matter between us. That makes five 
 hundred." 
 
 "Yes, that makes five hundred," repeated Sir 
 John, slowly. " Have you finished breakfast ? 
 Well, the only thing for me to do is to pay up and 
 look pleasant. When you have finished your peg 
 we will adjourn to my rooms, and I will give you a 
 cheque." 
 
 Dampier swallowed his peg forthwith. 
 
 " Nice little quarters these, eh ? " said Sir John, as 
 they entered his rooms. 
 
 Dampier glanced round the room carelessly, and 
 seated himself. 
 
 *•' Yes ; you know how to make yourself comfort- 
 able." 
 
 " I always make myself comfortable wherever I
 
 1 88 The Holy Estate. 
 
 am/' rejoined Sir John, unlocking his despatch-box 
 and taking out his cheque-book. " I bank with the 
 branch bank here," he went on, as he was writing 
 out the cheque, " so you won't have any trouble 
 about getting it cashed." 
 
 Dam pier was perfecty aware of the fact. 
 
 " Yes, it saves trouble," he replied indifferently. 
 " Thanks," — taking the cheque — " five hundred — 
 that's right — I shall see you again this evening. I 
 must be off now." 
 
 After Dampier had gone. Sir John carefully 
 selected a cheroot from his case, and lighted it 
 meditatively. 
 
 " Now, I wonder what game he is up to ? " he 
 said to himself. " I am sure he's up to something 
 by his manner. He's too damned subdued. He 
 had better not try any of his tricks on with me. I 
 must keep an eye upon him." 
 
 When Dampier arrived at his bungalow, he found 
 his wife in the verandah, busy with some needle- 
 work. He greeted her civilly, almost affectionately. 
 " I am going to shut myself up in my room for an 
 hour or two," he said. *' I have some important 
 business to do, and I am not to be disturbed on 
 any account. Will you tell the servants to say, if
 
 The Holy Estate. 189 
 
 anyone — no matter who — comes, that I am not at 
 home ? " 
 
 About two hours later, Dampier came out of his 
 room. He called for his pony and rode to the 
 bank. 
 
 " Will you take it in five hundred rupee notes, 
 sir ? " said the native cashier. 
 
 " I would like two five hundred notes, and the 
 rest in one hundred, except five hundred rupees, 
 which I'll have in silver. Perhaps you'll kindly put 
 them in a bag and send it out to my syce, who is 
 holding my pony outside ? " 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied the cashier, and he 
 counted out the money as he was bidden. 
 
 Dampier rode straight back to his bungalow. 
 
 " I have just received a wire at the club," he said 
 to his wife. '* I shall have to go down to Dustypore 
 by the mail-tonga to-morrow. I will put up the 
 things I want myself." 
 
 " Shall you be away long ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh no, dear. Two or three days at the most. 
 It is an awful nuisance, but I suppose I must 
 go." 
 
 He hadn't called her " dear " for so long that she 
 looked up at him a little uneasily.
 
 190 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " I am going down to the course presently, and 
 shall go on to the club after. By-the-bye, I am din- 
 ing at the club to-night, but I shall probably be 
 home early." 
 
 There was a sort of suppressed excitement about 
 his manner. She looked at him again, more curi- 
 ously this time. 
 
 " What the devil's up with you ? " he exclaimed 
 irritably. " Why do you look at me like that ? " 
 
 " There is something strange about you," she re- 
 plied anxiously. '* I do not know what it is, but 
 you— I hope there's nothing wrong?" 
 
 " Wrong ! of course not. What should there be 
 wrong ? " he echoed with a jarring laugh. *' Here's 
 the pony, so I will be off." 
 
 " Before you go, Wortley," she said, detaining him, 
 " will you give me a little money for the housekeep- 
 ing expenses ? There is the dhohie and the 
 durzi ; neither have been paid for last month, and 
 there are several little outstanding house bills be- 
 sides. The tradespeople come up every day and 
 worry me. They sit in the verandah for hours — 
 and won't go away." 
 
 '' I have not five rupees in the house," he replied ; 
 " I'll pay them on my return. Tell them that I
 
 The Holy Estate. 191 
 
 shall be back in a few days and will settle then. 
 I can't stay any longer." 
 
 He turned and left the room, and, mounting his 
 pony, cantered up the road leading to the race- 
 course.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Sir John Bradford was standing in the club veran- 
 dah leisurely drawing on his gloves. It was a little 
 after four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. 
 He was going up to the Potters' bungalow to tea, 
 and for a ride afterwards with Laline. The ever- 
 lasting syce was leading the everlasting pony up 
 and down outside. 
 
 As he was about to mount, a red-belted chuprassi 
 came up with a letter, and, salaaming profoundly, 
 handed it to him. Sir John looked at it carelessly, 
 and was about to put it in his pocket unopened ; 
 but, on second thoughts, he tore open the envelope 
 and read the note. 
 
 It was from the manager of the branch bank, 
 
 politely informing him that he had overdrawn his 
 
 account to the extent of three hundred rupees, five 
 
 annas. He re-read it, and thought it must be a 
 
 mistake. However, since it made a diflference of 
 
 some thousands of rupees to him, he determined to 
 192
 
 The Holy Estate. 193 
 
 investigate the matter at once. He went back to 
 his room. He never did anything in a hurry. The 
 first thing he did was to take out his cheque-book, 
 and to go carefully over the counterfoils. The 
 second was to sit down and write a little note to 
 Laline, regretting that he was prevented from 
 riding with her that afternoon by circumstances 
 which he would explain later. The third was to 
 mount his pony, and ride off to the bank. 
 
 He sent in his card to the manager, and was 
 admitted immediately to that individual's sanctum. 
 
 " I have just received a letter from you," he said, 
 "stating that my account is overdrawn. There 
 must be some mistake, so I came up to see what it 
 is." 
 
 " There is no mistake. Sir John, on our part," 
 replied the manager urbanely. " The last cheque 
 of yours that Captain Dampier cashed for five 
 thousand this morning — " 
 
 " Five thousand ! " exclaimed Sir John — " Oh I 
 yes, I was forgetting. Would you mind — er — let- 
 ting me look at the cheques I have drawn during 
 the last day or two, all that you have not sent 
 down ? " 
 
 When the cheques were brought in, Sir John 
 
 VOL I. N
 
 194 TJie Holy Estate, 
 
 looked carelessly at one or two until he came to 
 the cheque which he had that morning given to 
 Dampier. He examined it attentively. " Very 
 well done for an amateur," he thought to himself. 
 "I didn't know the fellow went in for this sort of 
 thing. So that's his game ! " 
 
 " Thank you," he said aloud, handing back the 
 cheques. " It was my mistake. Pray forgive me 
 for troubling you — good evening." 
 
 He rode very slowly up to the Dampiers' bunga- 
 low in deep thought. When he drew rein in front 
 of the porch he had quite made up his mind as to 
 his future course of action. 
 
 " How d'ye do, Mrs. Dampier ? " he said, with a 
 grin which showed all his teeth. " I called to see 
 your husband. Is he at home ? " 
 
 " He went off to the race-course about an hour 
 ago," she answered. 
 
 " I wonder if she's in the swim ? " he thought, 
 looking at her attentively. " As likely as not. She 
 looks so damned demure." 
 
 " He said he would be going to the club on his 
 way from the course," she added coldly. " I am 
 going out." 
 
 "Many thanks," he replied politely. "I won't
 
 The Holy Estate, 195 
 
 detain you. I daresay I shall meet him at the 
 club." 
 
 About an hour later Dampier rode up to the 
 club with another man. They were laughing 
 loudly over a story which Dampier had culled out 
 of the last mail's " Fink \in.^' 
 
 As he dismounted he did not notice a man seated 
 in the far end of the verandah with his legs thrown 
 over the long arms of the chair, furtively watching 
 him over the top of the pages of a Pioneer. 
 
 " Come along, Collins," he cried boisterously, as 
 they entered the club, " there is time for two hun- 
 dred up, and I don't hear anyone in the billiard- 
 room. Hi ! Bearer, call the marker, and bring 
 two whiskies-and-sodas sharp." 
 
 " May I have a few minutes chat with you, 
 Dampier, before you begin ? " said a quiet, suave 
 voice behind him. 
 
 It was quite three seconds before Dampier turned 
 round and confronted Sir John. 
 
 During that time he felt like a rat caught in a trap. 
 All the colour flew out of his face, and he gripped 
 the back of the chair in the intensity of his 
 emotion. 
 
 " Ah ! Sir John," he said, with a supreme effort.
 
 196 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " I didn't know you were in the room. Certainly — 
 if Collins does not mind waiting a few minutes — 
 but I should like a peg first, if you don't mind. I 
 have a raging thirst after those gallops. You know 
 that little mare of Brentwood's?" he continued, talk- 
 ing very fast ; " we saw her do a gallop over five 
 furlongs, and by Jove ! she can spin. I think she'll 
 be rather a good thing — don't you agree with me, 
 Collins ? and by Jove ! — ah ! here's the peg — " 
 
 He gulped it down in great thirsty throbs. Sir 
 John stood by, smiling serenely the while, as he 
 watched his victim's throat expand and contract 
 with each gulp. He was enjoying the whole 
 business immensely, and was looking forward with 
 keen pleasure to the next half hour. 
 
 " Perhaps he doesn't know anything about it, 
 and I am frightening myself about nothing. 
 He may only want to talk about the horses," 
 thought Dampier, as he followed Sir John to 
 his rooms. 
 
 When they had seated themselves, and the door 
 had been carefully closed behind them, his doubts 
 were quickly dispelled. 
 
 " Do you recognise this interesting work, my dear 
 Dampier?" said Sir John with a snarl, picking up a
 
 The Holy Estate. 197 
 
 thin green volume from the table, and holding it 
 out to him. " I thought so," he continued, as the 
 other's face turned livid. " I have just been re- 
 freshing my memory with it. It is some years 
 since I had anything to do with the Indian Penal 
 Code. The last case that I tried, if I remember 
 rightly, was one of forgery, and, I think — I am not 
 positively certain, for one's memory is treacherous 
 at times — I believe I sentenced the — the — ' felon in 
 the dock' — that is the correct expression, is it not ? 
 —-to — to ten years' penal servitude." 
 
 He smiled as if he were recalling some pleasant 
 reminiscence, and cheerfully drummed his fingers 
 on the arm of the chair. Dampier sat rigid and 
 grey, but no word came from his lips. After a 
 pause, Sir John continued, if possible more suavely 
 than before, and watching the man opposite him 
 warily the while : 
 
 " Now you are no doubt wondering what on earth 
 all this has to do with you, and you are no doubt 
 anxious that I should come to the point. Well, 
 the point is, my dear Dampier, that I happened to 
 drop into the bank this afternoon, and found to my 
 amazement that I had drawn a cheque in your 
 favour for five thousand rupees, and I have really
 
 198 The Holy Estate. 
 
 no recollection of having done so. So I naturally 
 come to you for an explanation." 
 
 Sir John paused politely, but no explanation was 
 forthcoming. Dampier glowered, but said nothing. 
 He was waiting for the other to further show his 
 hand. 
 
 " Pray do not look at me so savagely," said Sir 
 John at last; ''T don't like it, and it can do no 
 possible good, I may as well tell you before we go 
 any further, that no one but myself knows anything 
 about this business, so far ; but — but knowing the 
 great temptations of — er — criminals to hide one 
 crime by committing a greater one, and knowing 
 to what lengths a desperate man will go on the 
 off-chance of saving himself — I have taken the 
 precaution of writing a history of that cheque of 
 ours, which is now in a sealed envelope in — well, in 
 good hands. I merely did that as a safeguard. And 
 now — to come to the point — what do you intend 
 to do ? " 
 
 It was some minutes before Dampier spoke. He 
 was turning the situation over in his mind, and, 
 with something of the calmness born of despair, he 
 was wondering what would be the upshot of it all. 
 Denial was useless. Escape was impossible. He
 
 The Holy Estate, 199 
 
 must face it. He cleared his throat, and said in a 
 low, husky voice : 
 
 " I — I haven't touched the money — and you can 
 have it back again." 
 
 "That goes without saying," replied Sir John 
 blandly. " It is very good of you ; I am duly 
 grateful, for five thousand rupees is a large sum to 
 lose." 
 
 " What the devil do you want ? I don't see what 
 more I can do," said Dampier savagely. 
 
 " Possibly not," replied Sir John drily ; " but I 
 do. It has always been a rule with me never to 
 forego an advantage." He grinned horribly. "I 
 have the advantage of you now, and I mean to use 
 it. I hold in my possession that which can send you 
 to penal servitude. I have no particular wish to 
 send you to penal servitude, but I shall do so with- 
 out hesitation unless you agree to my terms. Of 
 course you could kill me ; you would, no doubt, like 
 to do so. I can see it in your face ; you should 
 really try to hide your feelings more carefully. But 
 that would hardly mend matters, for you would 
 simply exchange a prison for the gallows. There 
 is a way out of it — but it is for you to decide." 
 
 " Decide I — how can I decide ? " echoed Dampier
 
 200 The Holy Estate. 
 
 hoarsely. '' I'm absolutely at your disposal. You've 
 got me under your heel. You know it — so do I. 
 For God's sake, drop these preliminaries and come 
 to business. What is it you want ? " 
 
 Sir John Bradford took a turn up and down the 
 room before replying. Considering how completely 
 this man was at his mercy, he seemed to hesitate 
 strangely. He cleared his throat once or twice, 
 and then, drawing up a chair, sat down opposite 
 Dampier, and began 
 
 The shadows closed in with a rush. 
 
 By the time Sir John had finished, the two men 
 could scarcely see each other's faces. They spoke 
 rapidly and in low tones 
 
 Dampier got up to go. 
 
 " To-night, then," said Sir John. 
 
 " To-night," echoed Dampier curtly, and without 
 more ado he went out and slammed the door behind 
 him. 
 
 '* Damn him ! " he muttered, as he strode towards 
 the billiard-room ; " if it ever comes my turn — 
 well, it might be worse — " 
 
 Collins was still waiting in the billiard-room. 
 With many apologies for not turning up sooner, 
 Dampier called for a peg, and they began their game.
 
 The Holy Estate. 201 
 
 " He was ahvays a good player," Collins said 
 afterwards, when talking the matter over in the 
 light of subsequent events, " but I'm hanged if 
 I ever saw him play in such brilliant form as he 
 did in that game."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Mrs. Dampier was sitting in the drawing-room of 
 her little bungalow, alone. The servants had gone 
 to bed, and she had meant to follow their example, 
 but she felt strangely restless to-night. She had 
 dined alone — she nearly always dined alone now — 
 and had spent the long evening trying to read. 
 But the book had slipped from her hands to the 
 floor, and she was looking idly into the fire, and 
 thinking idly. Her thoughts worked themselves 
 round to her husband. He was dining at the club 
 as usual. She didn't regret his absence — far from 
 it; it was rather a relief to her; neither was she 
 sitting up for him — she had given that up long ago. 
 He might stay out all night and every night — she 
 cared little. His presence brought restraint, his 
 absence brought relief. She rendered him outward 
 service, but her heart was far from him. 
 
 As she thought of him now a little line of per- 
 plexity furrowed itself across her brow. That 
 
 202
 
 TJte Holy Estate, 203 
 
 things were not going well with him she knew — 
 how badly she did not know, for, though he hinted 
 darkly, he never took her into his confidence. The 
 last few days, and to-day especially, there had been 
 something very strange about him. He had been 
 restless and uneasy, and his uneasiness had com- 
 municated itself to her. He was going away on the 
 morrow — he had mentioned it casually, but whither 
 he was going she did not inquire. He had been very 
 mysterious about it. Why had he — who hated all 
 ph^^sical exertion — insisted that he would pack his 
 portmanteau himself, instead of letting the bearer 
 do it, as he had always done before ? Why had he 
 locked the door of his room so carefully before leav- 
 ing the house ? Why, most of all, had he, despite his 
 irritability, been so unusually amiable to her ? He 
 had actually called her " little woman " — a term of 
 endearment she had not heard from his lips for years 
 —not since when ? She had cast her mind back 
 and tried to remember. Oh ! yes, it was just before 
 she had signed the power-of-attorney which had 
 banded over her little fortune to him. The thought 
 brought a bitter smile to her lips; the furrow of 
 perplexity on her forehead deepened. What did it 
 mean ? Did it presage some new evil ?
 
 204 ^^^^ ^^fy Estate. 
 
 There was a faint sound outside. The noise made 
 her heart beat. She was in a strangely tense mood 
 to-night. She crossed to the big glass doors that 
 opened on to the verandah, and dragging aside the 
 curtain, she looked out. A full moon rode high, and 
 the wide champaign lay stretched out before her as 
 clearly as though it were day, more clearly almost, 
 for the shadows were more sharply defined. Across 
 the valley yonder the distant slopes of the hills, 
 dotted with mud huts, and patched with clumps of 
 pines, could be clearly seen. 
 
 She was about to drop the curtain and go back 
 to the fire and her book, when suddenly the dark 
 figure of a man came between her and the moonlit 
 country — came so suddenly that he seemed to spring 
 from the ground at her feet. 
 
 She drew back with a spasm of fear. At the 
 same time the man put his hand on the handle 
 of the glass door and tried, ineffectually, to open 
 it. He knocked. Thinking it must be her hus- 
 band, Madeleine rallied herself and opened the 
 door. 
 
 " Oh, Wortley, how you frightened me ! " she ex- 
 claimed. " What have you done ? Why do you 
 come in this way ? " Then in a moment she saw
 
 The Holy Estate. 205 
 
 her mistake. The man who stood in the door- 
 way, blinking like an owl in the bright lamp- 
 light, was not her husband, but Sir John Brad- 
 ford. 
 
 " Pray pardon me if I startled you by coming in 
 this unconventional way, Mrs. Dampier," he said, 
 advancing a few steps into the room and shutting 
 the door behind him, " but I — " 
 
 " Is not this rather a somewhat unusual hour to 
 call, Sir John ?" she said, still standing. " There are 
 limits to unconventionality, even in India — but," 
 with a sudden thought — " perhaps you bring bad 
 news — my husband ? Is he — " 
 
 " Pray don't alarm yourself, my dear lady," said 
 Sir John, a little nettled at her tone. " Your hus- 
 band's all right — at least I believe so ; it was to 
 meet him that I came here. He made an appoint- 
 ment with me at eleven o'clock to talk over some 
 business which brooks no delay. I happened to 
 catch sight of you at the window, and so took the 
 liberty of coming that way. I'm afraid I'm rather 
 late," he added, glancing at his watch. 
 
 Madeleine stood before the fire and looked at him 
 doubtfully. She knew there was something be- 
 tween this man and her husband, and also that tho
 
 206 TJu Holy Estate. 
 
 latter did most inconsiderate tbinojs — inconsiderate 
 so far as she was concerned. Otherwise — She 
 looked at the intruder again. His little eyes were 
 very bright, there was a red flush across his face. 
 He was in evening dress, and he seemed to have 
 been dining not wisely, but too well. 
 
 " You came so suddenly," she said half apologeti- 
 cally. " At first I thought it was some budmarsh 
 lurking in the verandah. My husband is at the 
 club — at least I believe so. He may be here any 
 minute. I was expecting him." 
 
 " Oh, no doubt he'll be here in a minute. May I 
 pull the curtain across ? " he asked irrelevantly ; 
 " the nights are still so chilly.'* 
 
 She bowed her head mutely, still standing. A 
 vague sense of disquietude stole over her. 
 
 He drew the curtain closely, and then pulled up 
 a chair opposite to where she was standing. 
 
 ** Do sit down and talk to me for a minute or two 
 until Captain Dampier comes," he said pleadingly, 
 sitting down himself as he spoke. " It seems quite 
 a long time since we had a chat together." 
 
 Mrs. Dampier sank down into her chair without 
 speaking, and looked thoughtfully into the fire — 
 anywhere to avoid those rattlesnake eyes.
 
 The Holy Estate. 207 
 
 " It is very late indeed/' she said presently, after 
 an uncomfortable pause ; " I wish Wortley would 
 come back. It is very wrong and inconsiderate of 
 him to make an appointment with you like this, 
 and not to be here to receive you." 
 
 " I have it in my heart to forgive him," said Sir 
 John, with a swift glance. Then seeing that she 
 was still contemplating the fire, he went on, "I 
 suppose he's in the middle of a rubber, or some- 
 thing of that sort, and can't get away to the 
 minute." 
 
 To this Mrs. Dampier vouchsafed no reply. It 
 was clear that she resented his intrusion, and yet — 
 His glance wandered over her stealthily. She 
 was looking very pretty to-night in spite of the 
 almost dowdy dress — a sort of tea-gown — which 
 she wore. Excitement had lent a transitory flush 
 to her cheeks, and the firelight played on her hair 
 and her white neck. She looked up and caught 
 his glance. He lowered his eyes instantly, but 
 not before she had caught a light in them which 
 made her instinctively recoil. Had the man been 
 drinking ? He certainly seemed in a very strange 
 mood to-night. 
 
 There was an awkward silence.
 
 208 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " Ahem ! " said Sir John, rubbing his hands 
 softly over his knees. " Ahem ! " 
 
 Madeleine guessed that these sounds were in- 
 tended to herald a remark, so she rushed into the 
 breach. A sense of the ludicrous smote her. 
 
 " I am afraid I am very dull to-night," she said 
 with a smile ; " but the truth is, I am feeling very 
 tired. I have been reading myself sleepy over this," 
 and she picked up the novel at her feet. " Have 
 you read it ? " holding it up to him. " Everyone is 
 talking about it." 
 
 She felt desperately that she must talk about 
 something. The situation was becoming unendur- 
 able. She had never known the man at a loss for 
 a word before. What ailed him ? 
 
 " Oh, yes — I dipped into it last night — I don't 
 often read novels, but this interested me," he said 
 garrulously. " Let me see, what was it about ? 
 Oh ! I remember. There is a man in it who throws 
 away everything — wealth, rank, satisfied ambition, 
 for the woman he loves — another man's wife ! There 
 are men who will do that, believe me." 
 
 He edged his chair a little closer, and leered at 
 her with his little pig's eyes. He tried to look 
 amorous, but only succeeded in making himself
 
 The Holy Estate. 209 
 
 ridiculous. But Madeleine did not see the ludi- 
 crous side just now. She caught the look which 
 accompanied his words and shuddered inwardly. 
 She had seen something like it before — in her hus- 
 band's eyes. She controlled her voice with an 
 effort. It sounded almost harsh as she answered 
 with a forced laugh : 
 
 " You have got hold of the wrong book, Sir John; 
 I don't remember anything of the kind in this one." 
 
 " But don't you think that there are such men ? " 
 he insisted, not in the least nonplussed. 
 
 " I don't know," rejoined Madeleine, yawning 
 with assumed carelessness. " The thing many men 
 call love is born of an extra glass of champagne, I 
 think, and evaporates as quickly. But come. Sir 
 John, don't grow sentimental ; it doesn't suit you. 
 Tell me what horses will win in the meeting next 
 week. You must mark my card for me, and I will 
 put a little money on the totalizaler; I am sure 
 your tips will be worth following." 
 
 " I shall be delighted," he said, gnawing his thick 
 under-lip, and looking anything but delighted all 
 the same. " But you have not answered my 
 question, Mrs. Dampier — at least you have evaded 
 it." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " Your question ? " she said lightly. " What was 
 it ? Oh, I remember. Well, like Miss L'Estrange, 
 I hate discussing abstract theories, so we'll talk 
 about something else." 
 
 " But this is not abstract, it is very concrete, very 
 real," he said, his voice gruff with excitement. He 
 got up from his chair as he spoke, and picked up 
 the book from the table, then he put it down again, 
 and pretended to examine the trinkets on a little 
 table near. He edged round it gradually, every 
 movement bringing him nearer to her side. 
 
 She watched him curiously, half-furtively. Red 
 patches stood out on his face, and she noticed that 
 his mouth was working, and his hands were shak- 
 ing. Her sense of insecurity — that there was 
 something not right — deepened. She looked at 
 the clock. 
 
 " I am very tired, Sir John," she said, with a 
 little yawn ; " I think if you will excuse me I will 
 retire. My husband will be back in a few minutes, 
 I am quite sure, and if you do not mind waiting 
 here alone — " 
 
 She rose as she spoke, and would have moved 
 towards the door. 
 
 " But I do mind," he broke in, his voice gruff with
 
 The Holy Estate. 211 
 
 emotion. " It is you that I have come to see, and 
 not your husband — he won't be here for hours — I 
 have something to say to you that has been on my 
 mind for some time — you must know what it is. I 
 love you — more than I could think myself cap- 
 able of loving — I would give up everything for 
 
 you-" 
 
 The words were jerked out spasmodically. His 
 breath came in short pants — he seemed to have lost 
 control of himself. 
 
 She looked at him with eyes wide with astonish- 
 ment and indignation. She thought he must have 
 gone mad, then that he was drunk. Suddenly the 
 whole business struck her in a ludicrous light. 
 Here was a man old enough to be her father, and 
 an ugly man to boot, gravely making love to her. 
 Age is never so ludicrous as when it is amor- 
 ous. 
 
 She almost laughed in his face, and was about to 
 turn the matter off with a jest and leave the room, 
 when, misinterpreting her silence, with a sudden 
 movement he caught her in his arms, and tried to 
 press his mouth to hers. 
 
 With a little cry she tore herself from him, and, 
 gathering all her strength, struck him across the
 
 212 The Holy Estate. 
 
 mouth with her hand. Her rings cut deep into his 
 
 lip. 
 
 For a moment they faced one another. He livid, 
 shaking with baffled desire and impotent rage, while 
 the blood from his cut lip gathered itself in a little 
 clot and trickled down his chin. She erect, defiant 
 as an angry Juno in her outraged virtue and her 
 outraged pride, her eyes shining, her face flushed, 
 every nerve quivering with repulsion. 
 
 "How dare you — how dare you! — you mean 
 coward ! " she cried. " Let me pass —and never set 
 foot in my house again. How dare you ! If my 
 husband had been here — " 
 
 " Your husband ! " he echoed with a coarse laugh. 
 " It is your husband who has delivered you into my 
 hands; he's keeping out of the way on purpose. 
 And by G-d, I'll—" 
 
 He strode towards her as he spoke, and inter- 
 cepted her exit by the door. 
 
 Seeing that means of escape cut off, she rushed 
 to the long glass windows and tore aside the 
 curtains. She had just time to pull back the bolt, 
 when he was upon her, and caught her by the 
 wrist. With a supreme effort she dragged open the 
 glass door ; her cry for help rang out upon the night.
 
 The Holy Estate. 213 
 
 Bradford, who was almost beside himself with 
 passion, and with the fear of an open scandal, put 
 his hand across her mouth and tried to drag her 
 from the window. He had almost succeeded, for 
 she was well-nigh fainting with terror, when 
 suddenly a man ran down the garden path, and 
 dashed into the verandah. 
 
 A second later Bradford lay sprawling on his 
 back on the floor, with his head mixed up with the 
 broken ornaments of the table he had carried over 
 in his fall. His victorious assailant stood over him 
 like another Perseus, looking from the dragon to 
 Andromeda in mute amaze. 
 
 " What is it — what has happened ? " Goring 
 asked, keeping a wary eye on Bradford, who was 
 slowly pulling himself together. 
 
 For the moment Madeleine was too agitated to 
 speak ; she had sunk into a chair in a half-fainting 
 condition. But presently her words came in little 
 short gasps. 
 
 " Turn that man out of the house," she said, point- 
 ing to the discomfited figure who was squatting 
 toad-like upon the floor, looking from one to the
 
 2T4 The Holy Estate. 
 
 other with malignant eyes. " His presence is an 
 offence to me — I cannot breathe in the same room 
 with him. He has insulted me grossly. Thank 
 Heaven, you came when you did. Ah ! if my 
 husband had come back, he would never have 
 dared—" 
 
 " Your husband ! " cried Sir John, with a brutal 
 laugh. He picked himself up slowly, and edged 
 towards the window, watching Goring out of the 
 corner of his eye. " Your husband ! " he shouted, 
 " is a — is a scoundrel and a thief — he tampered 
 with my cheque this morning, altered it to five 
 thousand rupees — and by G — d I'll have him ar- 
 rested to-morrow ! He sent me here to-night — you 
 know it; I see it in your face — sold you to me; 
 you were to be the price of his freedom. This is 
 how you keep your bargain ! I believe you're all 
 in the swindle, you and your bully there too ! But 
 I'll make you smart for it — I'll — " 
 
 Goring made a swift movement, and cut short his 
 sentence in the middle. Bradford was too quick 
 for him ; he bolted through the verandah, and down 
 the dusty road, outside. Goring did not attempt 
 to follow him further than the compound. He 
 found several white-robed figures, aroused doubt-
 
 The Holy Estate. 215 
 
 lessly by the noise, flitting about outside in front 01 
 the verandah. 
 
 After he had driven them away, he came back to 
 the room. 
 
 He found Mrs. Dampier still sitting in the chair. 
 But all the weakness seemed to have left her. She 
 was sitting erect, tense, rigid; her hands grasped 
 tightly the arms of the chair. Every vestige of 
 colour had left her face ; her eyes were dilated, and 
 in them there was a new light dawning — a light in 
 which horror, anger, incredulity, strove for mastery. 
 She seemed unconscious of Goring's presence, for 
 she looked beyond him, as though she saw him 
 not. 
 
 " Sold !" she muttered ; " the price of his freedom 
 —I— Oh! my God!" 
 
 "Come — come, Mrs. Dampier," said Goring, sooth- 
 ingly, " you mustn't believe that brute's lies. You 
 are frightened — over-wrought." 
 
 She turned her eyes upon him without changing 
 her position. Eyes tell the truth though lips may 
 lie, and in his she saw that he believed that 
 Bradford's words were partly true, and that the 
 man she called her husband was an accessory to 
 this vile thing.
 
 2i6 The Holy Estate. 
 
 He instinctively avoided her gaze, and went on 
 hurriedly and somewhat irrelevantly. 
 
 " I have been dining at the club with a man. 
 I was going back to the hotel when you cried 
 * Help ! ' I was on the road just above your 
 bungalow when I heard it. I ran down as fast as 
 I could — and — well, I think that brute Bradford 
 will have reason to remember it. I only wish he 
 had been a younger man — but his age makes it 
 worse. However, no one need know anything 
 about it ; that will be the wiser plan ; and Bradford's 
 sure to keep quiet. He must have been drunk or 
 mad. And now I don't think it will be well for 
 me to stay any longer — I had no idea it was so 
 late," he said, looking up at the clock ; " but before 
 I go, I will fetch one of the servants from the 
 quarters — they were here a minute ago — and make 
 him sit in the verandah until your husband comes 
 home." 
 
 Goring went out to fetch the servant, and pur- 
 posely lingered a little time outside. It would give 
 her time to pull herself together ; she was hard hit 
 — and no wonder — she had been insulted, betrayed. 
 What on earth would happen now ? He felt that 
 anything he might say would be out of place, and
 
 The Holy Estate, 217 
 
 there was nothing he could do. His interference 
 would only make things worse for her. And yet 
 — there was nothing he would not do if he could. 
 As he had stood before her to-night — the brave 
 little woman who had struggled on so pluckily in 
 spite of all — a new feeling, something more than 
 pity, something stronger than admiration, some- 
 thing deeper than the sympathy he had always 
 felt for her, stirred his heart. And with it came 
 an intense loathing and contempt for the man 
 who, by the law of the Church and the law of 
 the land, was her husband — for the man who had 
 violated every vow, had forfeited every right, had 
 heaped on her every cruelty save that of absolute 
 physical violence — and who yet was her posses- 
 sor. 
 
 " The servant is in the verandah," he said, when 
 he came back ; " I have told him to stop there 
 until the sahib returns. And now I think you had 
 better go to bed and try to forget all about this. 
 You must let me come round and inquire how you 
 are in the morning. Good-night ! " 
 
 " Good-night," she said mechanically. " Thank 
 you." 
 
 His hand trembled in hers, but she did not notice
 
 2i8 The Holy Estate. 
 
 it, nor did she meet his eyes. Her mind seemed 
 ■wholly absorbed with something else. He left her 
 there, with that look of frozen horror still on her 
 face.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 After Goring had gone, Madeleine remained as he 
 had left her, motionless and rigid, trying to think 
 out the events of the last hour. It could hardly be 
 called thinking; her ideas were not connected 
 enough for that. She was conscious only that 
 the cloud, which had lowered over her head so long, 
 had burst at last — and she was stunned with the 
 violence of the bursting. Through all the turmoil 
 of her thoughts, the parting words of Bradford beat 
 upon her brain: " Your husband is a scoundrel and 
 
 a thief he sent me here to-night he 
 
 sold you to me; you ivere to he the price of his 
 freedom." 
 
 She found herself repeating these words again 
 and again with strained insistence, " He sold you to 
 mer The charge of theft she hardly thought of, 
 the sense of personal outrage was so strong. Here 
 was a blacker depth which swallowed up every- 
 thing else. Her soul rose in revolt against this 
 
 crowning infamy ; if it were true, then the cuj) of 
 219
 
 220 The Holy Estate. 
 
 her husband's iniquities was full. And that it was 
 true, she did not for one moment doubt. Liar and 
 coward though Bradford was, there was a ring of 
 truth in his voice which compelled her to believe. 
 Goring believed it too ; she saw it in his face. As 
 she turned it over in her mind, every circumstance 
 conspired to force the damning fact upon her; 
 little links pieced themselves together in the chain 
 of her memory, half- forgotten words, veiled threats, 
 covert innuendoes, all rose up out of the past and 
 bore witness to the truth. " He sold you to me" 
 Oh, infamous ! This was the man who had sworn 
 to cherish and protect her, who was bound to her 
 by the most sacred ties — ties which he had broken. 
 All his past ill treatment and infidelities faded into 
 nothingness beside this. 
 
 Yet she was bound to him, she was his, " to have 
 or to hold," until death should part them. 
 
 No, there could be no law, either of God or 
 man, which should force her to live with such a 
 man as this. The crisis had come at last, and, 
 awful though it was, she could almost find it in 
 her heart to thank God that, at least, it would 
 bring her respite from a life of degradation. The 
 sanctity of marriage ! What a mockery it was. For
 
 The Holy Estate. 221 
 
 the first time, there came a whisper to her heart 
 that above all the duties she might owe to her 
 creed, her husband and the world, there was a 
 higher duty still — her duty to herself and to her 
 womanhood. 
 
 It might have been an hour, or less, she knew 
 not — there are some phases in our life of which 
 minutes and hours are hardly adequate measures of 
 time — when on her ears there smote a sound from 
 the adjoining room. Faint though it was, she 
 knew its meaning, and the blood surged back to 
 her face. She arose and straightened herself like 
 one who awakes from a swoon. The supreme 
 crisis of her life had come, and she went to face it 
 without a shadow of wavering. The sense of a 
 great wrong emboldened her. 
 
 She crossed the little passage and tried the door 
 of her husband's room. It was locked, but the 
 sound of a stealthy movement and the glimmer of 
 a lio-ht from within told her that he was there. 
 
 She knocked. There was no answer. She 
 knocked again. 
 
 " It is I," she said. " I wish to speak to you." 
 
 Dampier unlocked the door and glared at her 
 suspiciously. His face was heated and flushed with
 
 222 The Holy Estate. 
 
 drink an<:l exertion, but he was sober. He was in 
 his shirt-sleeves. An open portmanteau lay on the 
 floor ; he had been packing, and there were some 
 charred papers in the grate. 
 
 "What the devil do you want?" he asked savagely, 
 but in a hushed voice. " Come in, i£ you are coming, 
 and don't stand there like an image." 
 
 She came in, and, shutting the door noiselessly, 
 stood with her back against it. For a second their 
 eyes met. 
 
 " So you are going away," she said, with a glance 
 
 at the burnt papers in the grate. "It is well 
 
 I have something to say to you before you go." 
 
 He looked at her again, curiously this time, 
 wondering how much she knew. He was struck by 
 the unnatural quiet of her manner. Her face was 
 white and drawn; little lines had cut themselves 
 around her mouth and across her brow. 
 
 " If it's about that old brute, Bradford," he 
 blustered, " you can spare yourself the trouble. I 
 know all that you can tell me. I met him on my 
 way home from the club ; he was furious, foaming 
 at the mouth, and vowing vengeance all round. 
 The game's up, thanks to you and that interfering 
 fool, Goring. You've made it pretty hot for me,
 
 The Holy Estate. 223 
 
 I can tell you, with your damned prudery. I told 
 you to be civil to the old brute — and this is the re- 
 sult. You've ruined me, and yourself into the bargain. 
 It's too hob for me to stay here. I'm off to-night." 
 
 He turned his back on her, and began to strap up 
 his portmanteau. If he meant this as a hint for her 
 to go, it was lost upon her. If he expected a tor- 
 rent of reproaches, he was mistaken. The words 
 she strove to say were slow in coming. In truth, 
 she was aghast at this man's baseness. The silence 
 was oppressive. 
 
 \^ He locked the portmanteau with a snap. The 
 action roused her to speak. 
 
 " It is well that you are going," she said again. 
 " I only hope you may escape. I will not detain 
 you long." He looked up at her suddenly when 
 she said " escape," but she went on in the same quiet 
 tone. "You have heard what has happened to- 
 night. It will save me the shame of tellingf it. I 
 have heard what happened this morning — about 
 the cheque. Sir John Bradford told me that — 
 that his intention to insult me to-night was known 
 to you. Is it true, or not ? " 
 
 He winced a little at her words. She knew all 
 then ? But he pretended not to understand.
 
 224 The Holy Estate. 
 
 " You speak in riddles," he said impatiently, " and 
 I have no time to guess them. If that's all you 
 have to say, you might as well have left me alone. 
 Can't you see I'm busy ? I must be off; a coolie is 
 waiting for me up above. I can't be hindered listen- 
 ing to your squabbles with Bradford. I won't be 
 mixed up with them. He's in an infernal rage as 
 it is. Your lover, Goring, got you into the scrape, 
 and he must get you out of it. It's no use your 
 whining to me." 
 
 She flushed, stung to the quick by this brutal 
 insult. Her calm vanished for the moment. 
 
 " Coward ! " she cried, " and liar to the last ! Do 
 you think that I came here to ask you to defend 
 me — you, who plotted my dishonour ? I heard the 
 truth from that man's mouth. I see it in your pre- 
 parations for flight, in your face, in your manner. 
 But I will hear it from your own lips. You owe it 
 to me." 
 
 Her words rang out on the silent room. He 
 made a threatening movement towards her. But 
 she did not flinch. It was the first time he had 
 seen her like this ; it would not do to push her too 
 far. He paused for a moment, and looked at her 
 and cursed her in his heart. His hand dropped
 
 The Holy Estate, 225 
 
 to his side. His one object was to escape as 
 quietly and as quickly as possible. She was be- 
 tween him and the door; he did not wish to use 
 violence. 
 
 " Come, come/' he said, with a forced laugh, "be 
 reasonable, and for God's sake don't make such a 
 noise ; you'll rouse the bungalow. There's no need 
 for us to quarrel. You know I didn't mean what 
 I said about Goring, and as for that old scoundrel 
 Bradford, yoxx mustn't believe all he said either. 
 It's quite true I did a silly thing this morn- 
 ing — a man does lose his head sometimes when he's 
 hard pressed, and I've been very hard pressed of late. 
 I tampered with a cheque he gave me, and he found 
 it out. ... I couldn't afford to have a row with 
 him, and I trusted to you to keep him in good 
 humour. He was always a bit sweet on you, you 
 know, and he'd got me under his thumb, so when 
 he suggested coming to see you to-night, I offered 
 no objection. I knew you could take care of your- 
 self if you wished, and if you didn't wish — " with 
 a shrug of his shoulders, " well, what of it ? Why, 
 half the women in India — " 
 
 She stopped him with a gesture of disgust. She 
 had crossed over to the fire while he was speaking, 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 226 The Holy Estate, 
 
 and put one hand on the mantelpiece for support. 
 The anger and excitement faded out of her face, 
 and gave place to the set look again. She rallied 
 her energies with an eflfort, and her voice was quite 
 quiet when she spoke again. 
 
 " It is enough," she said slowly ; " I understand — 
 I understood from the first. You cannot palliate 
 what you have done. Let us speak plainly, since, 
 God helping me, this is the last time we shall ever 
 speak to one another. By your own admission, 
 you — but it is too shameful to speak of. You 
 knew what manner of man he was — you knew 
 that I was at his mercy in this lonely house — I, 
 
 your wife, the mother of our dead child I 
 
 cannot forgive this outrage ; all the rest is nothing 
 to it, nothing. Now, listen. I have been your wife 
 for six years ; through good report and evil I have 
 done my duty. In what measure you have repaid 
 me only you and I know — and God, who knows 
 all things. I would have stood by you in your 
 trouble, in your poverty, aye, even in your crime. 
 I would have helped you all I could, for you were 
 my husband, even though love was dead between 
 us. But by this last wrong you have broken 
 the bond which bound us; you have made our
 
 The Holy Estate. 227 
 
 union an unholy thing. I will never live with you 
 again. I have borne all things, hoped all things 
 endured all things — but the limit of my endur- 
 ance is reached. I do not mean a divorce ; 
 even if I could avail myself of one, I would 
 scorn to do so ; neitlier is there any need of 
 a formal deed of separation; but our separa- 
 tion will be none the less final and complete, 
 I will make my way in the world alone. From 
 to-night we are dead to one another, you and 
 L I will never willingly look on your face 
 again." 
 
 There was a great pathos in her voice, though 
 
 the words came evenly, without any apparent effort. 
 
 Only once did she falter ; it was when she mentioned 
 
 her child. But she recovered herself in a moment, 
 
 and went on to the end. Her knees were trembling, 
 
 and she gripped the mantelpiece more tightly. The 
 
 reaction was setting in. Bat Dampier did not heed 
 
 these signs of emotion. The pathos of her words 
 
 was lost on him. While she was speaking he sat 
 
 on the edge of the bed, and swung his legs with an 
 
 air of ill-assumed indifference. Once or twice he 
 
 yawned, and he shrugged his shoulders when she 
 
 spoke of divorce. When she had finished, he
 
 228 The Holy Estate. 
 
 jumped up, and, picking up his portmanteau, 
 moved towards the door. 
 
 There he halted for a moment, and turned to look 
 at her. Her head had fallen on her hands. He 
 felt no pity, nothing but impotent rage. The quiet 
 scorn of her words had penetrated even his thick 
 hide. 
 
 " That was very well done," he said with a sneer ; 
 " really very well, considering that you are only an 
 amateur. You have evidently rehearsed it. Now 
 the last act is finished, suppose we ring down the 
 curtain. The resolution you have come to entirely 
 agrees with my own. You have exactly anticipated 
 my intentions, and have relieved me of an un- 
 pleasant task, and a still more unpleasant respon- 
 sibility. If I get away, as I hope I shall, you 
 would only have been a drag on me — you have 
 been a drag on me for a long time, in point of fact. 
 We have long since tired of one another ; it's better 
 to end it." He stopped as if for her to speak, but 
 she said nothing. He went on savagely, irritated 
 by her silence, " I thought you were one of the 
 clinging sort ; I see I was mistaken. I am inclined 
 to think that your training in India has not been 
 thrown away. You have had plenty of opportuni-
 
 The Holy Estate. 229 
 
 ties of lining your nest, and, in spite of your damned 
 demure ways, I expect you've done it. Anyway, I 
 haven't interfered, and I shall not interfere in the 
 future. You can go your own way, and I will go 
 mine. Mine lies down the cart road into the plains 
 as fast as my legs will carry me. Yours — I doubt 
 not — is somewhere in the direction of Goring's 
 bungalow, where — " 
 
 She raised her head and looked at him ; the 
 cowardly insult died away unfinished on his lips. 
 The dumb agony, the reproach in her eyes, silenced 
 him. He felt a sudden twinge of shame, of super- 
 stitious dread. In some vague way the look in the 
 woman's eyes called back to him his dead mother. 
 
 " Oh, my heart ! " she cried, pressing her hands to 
 her side. "How my heart is beating ! " 
 
 Her strength had ebbed at last. She slid down- 
 ward to the floor. 
 
 He left her without a backward glance, and slunk 
 away into the night.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A FEW weeks later. The rainy season was drawing 
 to a close, the beginning of the cold weather was at 
 hand, and the exodus from Elysium had already set 
 in. Everywhere one heard of people packing up and 
 departing to the plains, of " leaves " expiring, and of 
 grass-widows returning to their lawful lords. The 
 Elysium Autumn Meeting was over and gone, the 
 Gymkhana languished. Soon Elysium would be 
 deserted, the club shut up, the bungalows closed, 
 and everything in a state of suspended animation 
 until the hot weather came round again. From 
 October until April the glory departed from 
 Elysium. 
 
 One evening in late September, three men were 
 seated in the smoking-room of the club. 
 
 " Well, it's about time to go and dress ; I'm dinin' 
 
 out," yawned a man in the corner, throwing down 
 
 the Civil and Military Gazette which he had been 
 
 reading. 
 
 Just then the door opened, and a man entered. 
 230
 
 The Holy Estate. 231 
 
 "Any news, Davenport?" exclaimed Lord Kil- 
 kenny lazily ; it was he who had made the last 
 remark. "Or, I should say, scandal, for the two 
 things are synonymous ? " 
 
 "Great news/' replied the other, "or, rather, 
 scandal." 
 
 " Come, out with it," exclaimed Lord Kilkenny. 
 " I see you are bursting to tell us. Scandal spells 
 either drink, death, or debauchery — which is 
 it?" 
 
 " All three combined. I'll tell you when I have 
 had a drink. Try and guess meanwhile." 
 
 He touched a small hand-bell on the table by his 
 side, and a khitmagar appeared. 
 
 " Bring me a ginger- wine and whisky. I'm 
 deuced fagged, Kilkenny. I've been taking that 
 fiddle-headed brute, Glenmoor, over the jumps. On 
 my way back from the course, I met Probyn of the 
 gunners at the landing-stage, getting out of the 
 tonga — just arrived. He told me the news. Now 
 guess ? " 
 
 " Well, there's so much knocking about now that 
 it's hard to choose, but I lay my money on the 
 double event. Fresb development in the Dampier 
 business, or something to do with the L'Estranoje
 
 232 The Holy Estate. 
 
 filly," replied Lord Kilkenny, knocking the ashes 
 from his cigar. 
 
 " You are partly right ; you generally are when 
 you lay your money on anything. It's about 
 Dampier. It appears that he was 'cute enough to 
 make his way to Colombo, guessing, no doubt, that 
 they'd be on the lookout for him at Bombay, or 
 ■ Madras, or Calcutta, and he managed to get on 
 board a Homeward-bound P. & 0. from Australia. 
 He was not far wrong in his surmises. When the 
 boat arrived at Aden they were on the alert, but the 
 ship's captain reported that one of the second-class 
 passengers had fallen overboard. The police, after 
 searching his kit, stated that there was no doubt 
 Dampier was the missing man. Of course he had 
 carefully disguised himself and all that sort of thing 
 — but, poor devil, he is now in the belly of a shark." 
 
 " It's about the best thing that could have hap- 
 pened, for everyone concerned," remarked Lord 
 Kilkenny. 
 
 " For the regiment especially," said another 
 man. 
 
 " For his wife more so," said a third. 
 
 " He was the best hand at billiards I ever knew," 
 said Collins meditatively, from the corner.
 
 The Holy Estate. 233 
 
 *•' From all one hears, some curious tales would 
 have come out if he had been nailed," said Daven- 
 port. "■ It seems to have been a queer business all 
 round. Have a split, Kilkenny ? " 
 
 " No, thanks ; but I'll have a sherry-and-bitters 
 instead, if I may — yes, a rum business as you say — 
 I should like to know the truth of the affair. Old 
 Bradford, I fancy, could throw a good deal of light 
 on it. There seem to be some very queer rumours 
 flying around about his share in the business. By- 
 the-bye, when do the Bradford-L'Estrange matri- 
 monial stakes come off? It's a fixture, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes, she's caught him at last — on the rebound. 
 Perhaps old Bradford thought it the best way to 
 silence ugly tales. Anyway, they're to be spliced at 
 the beginning of the cold weather, at Calcutta, so 
 I'm told. I met Mrs Potter just now, with Laline, 
 radiant and happy, as they say in fiction. I don't 
 envy her when it comes off". He's a large pill to 
 swallow ; he'll want to be very richly gilded. How- 
 ever, I expect she'll know how to take care of her- 
 self. Old Bradford '11 have his work cut out to 
 break her into harness. How sick she will be, 
 though, when she hears about Goring, after chuck- 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 234 The Holy Estate. 
 
 iu' him over in the way she did. I hadn't the 
 heart to tell her.'' 
 
 " Goring — what about Goring ? " 
 
 " I thought it was all over the place, and you 
 would have heard as soon as anyone ?" replied Daven- 
 port, with a laugh. " He got a cable this morning 
 to tell him that his two cousins — sons of old Sir 
 John Goring, don't you know ? — have been drowned, 
 while yachting off the west coast of Ireland. Their 
 yacht capsized, or something of that sort." 
 
 '' What luck!" exclaimed Lord Kilkenny. " Let's 
 see," he continued reflectively. " Burwood is old 
 Goring's place, if I remember right. Then he'll 
 come into, at least, £7000 a year — lucky devil — heir 
 to a baronetcy and £7000 a year. A bit of a jump 
 from a skipper in a line regiment." 
 
 " He's sending in his papers and going Home im- 
 mediately, I believe. The old man's on his last legs 
 too, so Goring '11 soon come into his kingdom," said 
 Davenport, finishing his peg. ** And old Bradford's 
 got wind of it. He's like a bear with a sore head. 
 He hates Goring like the devil hates holy water. 
 They say it's on account of something to do with 
 the Dampier business. Mrs. Dampier — " 
 
 " She's all right, I'd bet my bottom dollar. Though
 
 The Holy Estate. 235 
 
 she was mixed up in the affair," broke in Lord Kil- 
 kenny, chucking away the end of his cigar, " I'd bet 
 she's as straight as they make 'em, or rather more so. 
 She's gone off with old Lady Fitzpoodle, isn't she ? 
 — devilish seedy, I heard, with brain fever — or 
 something of the sort." 
 
 " Yes, I believe she is. Who would have thought 
 Boadicea would have turned up trumps like that ? 
 She has behaved like a brick to little Mrs. Dampier. 
 They say she nurses her day and night, and she's 
 a bit long in the tooth now. Well, I suppose it's 
 time to go off and dress ; in fact, I'm late as it is," 
 he added, looking at his watch. 
 
 ** Well, I'm off too," said Lord Kilkenny, jumping 
 up. " Gymkhana to-morrow, I suppose, with the 
 fair Laline as usual to the fore ? The last of the 
 season, but she'll be in at the death. I wonder 
 how she'll look ? Ta-ta, you chaps ; see you to- 
 morrow down on the ground." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by Cowan b* Co., Limited, Perth.
 
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