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 A DOUBLE KNOT.
 
 IRew 1Boo\\B at all Xibraiiea. 
 
 By L. T. MEADE. 
 
 The Honourable Miss. 
 
 Two Vols., Crown 8vo. 
 
 A. Novel by the well-known Author of 'Scamp and I,' 'Daddy's 
 Boy,' etc. 
 
 By LESLIE KEITH. 
 
 A Lost Illusion. 
 
 Three Vols., Crown 8vo. 
 
 By the Author of ' The Chilcotes,' ' A Hurricane in Petticoats,' etc. 
 
 By S. BARING-GOULD. 
 
 Historic Oddities and Strange Events. 
 
 SECOND SERIES NOW READY. 
 
 One Vol., Demy 8vo., los. 6d. 
 
 Of the First Series The Times said : ' A collection of exciting and 
 entertaining chapters ... the volume is delightful reading.'
 
 A DOUBLE KNOT 
 
 H Movcl 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE MANVILLE FENN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 ELl's CHILDREN,' ' THE MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES,' ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 METHUEN & CO. 
 1 8, BURY STREET, BLOOMSBURY, W.C. 
 
 1890 
 
 [A/l rights reserved]
 
 0° V.I 
 
 ^ 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I 
 
 I 
 
 r 
 
 PROLOGUE.— THE GERM. 
 
 HAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A DAUGHTER OF EVE - - - I 
 
 II. MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND - - 20 
 
 ' . FOSTER-PARENTS - - - - 40 
 
 IV. INOCULATED FOR A WOLF - - "51 
 
 THE STORY. -YEARS AGO. 
 
 I. CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS - - 65 
 
 n. HIS uncle's NEPHEW - - - 87 
 
 III. CAPTAIN millet's BROTHER'S WIFE - - 107 
 
 IV. THE REMAINS OF A FALL - - - II6 
 V. DR. STONOR's patient - - - 134 
 
 VI. aunt philippa on matrimony - - 145 
 
 VII. eccentric guests - - - - 168 
 
 vin. in borrowed plumes - - - 183 
 
 IX. THE slave of FORTUNE - - - 1 95 
 
 X. A DINNER FOR AN END - - - 207 ' 
 
 XI. FAMILY MATTERS - - - - 23O 
 
 S^ 
 
 ^
 
 A DOUBLE KNOT 
 
 PROLOGUE. — THE GERM 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 a daughter of eve. 
 
 * Mother!' 
 
 There was no reply, and once again rose from the 
 bed in the prettily-furnished room the same word — 
 
 * Mother !' The wild, appealing, anguished cry of 
 offspring to parent, seeming to ask for help — protec- 
 tion — forgiveness — the tenderness of the mother- 
 heart to its young, and still there was no answer. 
 
 The speaker struggled up so that she rested on 
 her elbow, the heavy dark nut-brown hair fell in long 
 clusters on her soft white neck and bosom ; her 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 2 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 large hazel eyes looked wild and dilated ; and her 
 fair young face deathly pale, as, with quivering white 
 lips, she cried once more : 
 
 ' Mother ! Speak to me or I shall die.' 
 
 * It would be better so,' was the cold hard reply, 
 and a lady who had been gazing from the window 
 turned slowly round to gaze full at the first speaker, 
 her handsome Spanish type of countenance looking 
 malignant as her dark eyes flashed, where she stood 
 biting her full sensuous nether lip, and glaring at 
 the occupant of the bed. 
 
 ' Mother !' was the anguished cry once more, as the 
 girl sank back upon her pillow. 
 
 ' Yes,' was the bitter reply. ' You are a mother. 
 God be thanked that your father, who idolized his 
 child, was not spared to see this day.' 
 
 * Oh, mother, mother, have some pity — have some 
 mercy upon me. Where am I to seek it, if not from 
 you ?' 
 
 ' From Heaven: for the world will show you none. 
 Why should I ? Shame upon you that you should 
 bring this curse upon my widowed hfe. The 
 coward ! — the villain ! Was not our simple quiet
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 3 
 
 home, far away from the busy world, to be held 
 sacred, that he must seek us out and cast such a 
 blight upon it !' 
 
 'Oh, hush, mother!' wailed the ^irl. 'I love 
 him — I love him.' 
 
 ' Love him ! Idiot ! Baby ! To be led away by 
 the smooth words of the first soft-spoken villain you 
 meet.' 
 
 ' You shall not call him villain, mamma,' cried the 
 girl passionately. ' He loves me, and I am to be 
 his wife.' 
 
 The girl flashed up for a moment with anger, but 
 only to lie back the next instant faint and with half- 
 closed eyes. 
 
 ' His wife ! Are you such a fool that you believe 
 this ?' cried the elder woman bitterly. ' His wife ! 
 There, cast aside that shadow at once, for it is a 
 delusion.' 
 
 * No, no, mother, dear mother, he has promised 
 me that I shall be his wife, and I believe him.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the mother, 'as thousands of daughters 
 of Eve have believed before. There, cast away that 
 thought, poor fool, and think now of hiding your sin 
 
 I — 2
 
 4 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 from the world which will shun you as if you had the 
 plague.' 
 
 * Mother !' cried the girl piteously. 
 
 ' Don't talk to me !' cried the woman fiercely, and 
 she began to pace the room; tall, swarthy, and hand- 
 some for her years, her mobile countenance betray- 
 ing the workings of the passionate spirit within her. 
 
 * Mother ! Would I had never been one ! My 
 life has been a curse to me.' 
 
 * No, no; don't say that, dear.' 
 
 * It has, I tell you. There's something wrong in 
 our blood, I suppose. Look at your brother.' 
 
 ' Poor Julian !' sighed the girl. 
 
 * Poor Julian !' cried the woman scornfully. ' Of 
 course he is poor, and he deserves it. He must 
 have been mad.' 
 
 ' But he loved her, mamma, so dearly.' 
 ' Loved!' cried the woman with a wild intensity 
 of rage in her deep rich voice and gesture, as she 
 spat on the floor. ' Curse love ! Curse it ! What 
 has it done for me ? A few sickly embraces — a few 
 years of what the world calls happiness — and then a 
 widowhood of poverty and misery.'
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 5 
 
 ' Mamma, you will kill me if you talk like 
 that.' 
 
 ' Then I will talk like that, and save myself from 
 temptation more than I can bear,' cried the woman 
 fiercely. ' What has love done for the son of whom 
 I was so proud — my gallant- looking, handsome boy ? 
 Why, with his bold, noble, Spanish face and dark 
 eyes, he might have wed some heiress, married whom 
 he liked — and what does he do ? turns himself into a 
 galley slave.' 
 
 * Mamma, what are you saying ?' cried the girl 
 faintly. 
 
 ' The truth. What has he done ? Married a 
 woman without a sou, and had to accept that post at 
 the mines. Isn't that being a galley slave ?' 
 
 ' But he loved Delia, mamma. ^ 
 
 * Loved her ! Curse love ! I tell you. The ass ! 
 The idiot, to be led away by that sickly, washed- 
 out creature — the Honourable Delia Dymcox,' she 
 continued, with an intensity of scorn in her 
 tones. 
 
 ' But she is a lady, mamma.' 
 
 * Lady ? The family are paupers, and, forsooth,
 
 <) A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 they must look down on him — on us because we have 
 no blood. Well, she is justly punished, and he too. 
 I hope they like Auvergne.' 
 
 * Oh, mother,' sighed the girl weakly, * you are very 
 cruel.' 
 
 * Cruel ? I wish I had been cruel enough to 
 have strangled you both at birth. I wish our 
 family were at an end — that it would die out as 
 Julian's brats waste away there in that hot, dry, sun- 
 cursed region.' 
 
 ' You do not mean it, dear ?' 
 
 ' I do, Mary ; I swear I do. Oh that I could have 
 been so weak as to marry as I did — to be cursed with 
 two such children !' 
 
 ' You talk so, dear, because you are angry with 
 me,' sighed the girl. *I know you loved poor papa 
 dearly.' 
 
 *Pish! You are like him.' 
 
 ' Yes, mamma, and poor Julian has always been so 
 like you.' 
 
 There was silence then in the half- shadowed 
 room, while the mother sat sternly gazing out at the 
 stream that rippled by the cottage, dancing in the sun-
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 7 
 
 light and bathing the roots of the willows that kissed 
 its dimpling, silvery surface. The verdant meadows 
 stretched far away rich in the lush grass and many 
 flowers that dotted them with touches of light. All 
 without looked bright and joyous, as a lark high 
 poised poured forth his lay, which seemed to vibrate 
 in the blue arch of heaven, and then fall in silvery 
 fragments slowly down to earth. 
 
 The girl lay crying silently, the tears moistening 
 her soft white pillow, as she gazed piteously from 
 time to time at her mother's averted face, half 
 hidden from her by the white curtain she held aside 
 to gaze from the window. 
 
 ' Can you — can you see him coming, mamma ?' 
 faltered the girl at last. 
 
 'Whom? The doctor?' was the cold response, 
 as the curtain was allowed to fall back in its place. 
 'No, I have not sent for one. Why should we 
 publish our shame ?' 
 
 * Our shame, mamma?' 
 
 'Yes, our shame. Is it not as bitter for me? 
 Live or die, I shall send for no doctor here.' Again 
 there was silence, and the elder woman slowly paced
 
 8 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 the room, till, passing near the bed, a soft white 
 arm stole forth, and caught her hand. 
 
 ' You are very cruel to me, mother. Oh, do 
 look ; look again. See if he is coming.' 
 
 ' If he is coming !' cried the elder. ' Are you mad 
 as well as weak ? You will never see him more. 
 Poor fool ! I believe even his name is only assumed.' 
 
 ' I shall,' cried the girl with energy, ' and he will 
 come. He loves me too dearly to forsake me now. 
 He is a gentleman and the soul of honour.' 
 
 Her face lit up, and the joyous look of love shone 
 in her eyes as she gazed defiantly at her mother, 
 who looked back at her, half pitying, half mocking 
 her faith. Then, in spite of herself, she started, for 
 steps were heard on the path beneath, and as the 
 girl struggled up once more to her elbow, and 
 craned her neck towards the window, voices were 
 heard speaking at a little distance. 
 
 * There, there,' cried the girl, with a sob of joy, as 
 she sank back laughing hysterically. ' What did I 
 say? He loves me — he loves me, and he has come.' 
 
 Mrs. Riversley ran to the window, and drew aside 
 the curtain furtively as a couple of young men.
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 9 
 
 gentlemen evidently, and one carrying a trout rod, 
 walked slowly by, following the winding path that 
 led round by the great gravel pit in the wood that 
 bordered the stream, and soon after they disap- 
 peared amidst the trees. 
 
 'That was his step,' cried the girl at last. * Who 
 was with him, mamma ?' 
 
 ' Captain Millet.' 
 
 * Poor Mr. Millet !' said the girl softly ; and then, 
 with the anxious troubled look fading from her coun- 
 tenance to give place to one of quiet content as a 
 smile played round her lips, she lay very still, 
 with half-closed eyes listening for the returning 
 steps. 
 
 Twice she started up to Hsten, but only to sink 
 back again, very calm and patient, her full faith that 
 the man she loved would return beaming from every 
 feature of her handsome young face. 
 
 ' Mother,' she said at last softly; and Mrs. Riversley 
 turned towards her. 
 
 ' What do you want ?' 
 
 * Is it not time you brought it back to me, mother 
 — that you laid it by my side ?'
 
 lo A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 There was no reply, and the girl looked up 
 pleadingly. 
 
 ' I should like him to see it when he comes,' she 
 said softly, and a wondrous look of love dawned in 
 her pale face, causing a strange pang in her mother's 
 breast as she stood watching her and evidently trying 
 to nerve herself for the disclosure she was about to 
 make, one which in her anger she had thought easy, 
 but which now became terribly difficult. 
 
 ' If you cannot forgive me, mother dear,' said the 
 girl pleadingly, ' let me have my babe : for I love it, 
 I love it,' she whispered to herself, and the soft dawn 
 of a young mother's yearning for her offspring grew 
 warmer in her face. 
 
 *You will never see it more,' exclaimed the 
 woman at last, in a hard harsh voice, though she 
 trembled and shrank from her daughter's eyes as she 
 spoke. ' It will never lie by your side for him to 
 gaze upon your shame and his : the child is 
 dead.' 
 
 A piteous cry broke from the young mother's 
 breast, and in her bitter grief she lay sobbing 
 violently, till nature interposed, and, exhausted.
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. ii 
 
 weak and helpless, she sank into a heavy sleep with 
 the tears still wet upon her face. 
 
 ' It is better so — it is better so,' muttered Mrs. 
 Riversley, as she stood gazing down at her child. 
 ' It will nearly kill her, but, God forgive me, it must 
 be done.' 
 
 She stood watching in the shaded room till a 
 slight noise below made her start, and hastily 
 glancing at her daughter to see that she slept, she 
 stole on tiptoe from the bedside, and crept down- 
 stairs to where a sharp angular-looking woman of 
 four or five and twenty was standing in the little 
 drawing-room with her shawl over one arm, and her 
 bonnet swinging from the strings. 
 
 She looked flushed with exercise, and her hair 
 about her temples was wet with perspiration, while 
 her boots were covered with dust. 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' Well,' said the woman, with a rude, impatient 
 gesture. 'You must give me a glass of wine. I'm dead 
 beat. It's quite four miles there, and as hot as hot. 
 
 * How dare you speak to me in that insolent way, 
 Jane !' said Mrs. Riversley angrily.
 
 12 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 'Oh,' said the woman sharply, 'this is no time 
 far ma'aming and bowing and scraping ; servants 
 and missuses is all human beings together when 
 they're in trouble, and folks don't make no difference 
 between them.' 
 
 ' But you might speak in a more respectful way, 
 Jane,' said Mrs. Riversley, biting her lips, and looking 
 pale. 
 
 ' Dessay I might,' said the woman ; ' but this ain't 
 the time. Well, you want to know about the ' 
 
 * Hush ! for Heaven's sake, hush,' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Riversley, glancing round. 
 
 * Oh, there^s no one near us,' said the woman with 
 a mocking laugh ; * not even the police, so you 
 needn't be afraid. It ain't murder.' 
 
 ' Did you find her ?' said Mrs. Riversley. ' Pray 
 tell me, Jane, I spoke rather harshly just now, 
 but I could not help it, I was so troubled and 
 upset.' 
 
 ' Dessay you were ; dessay everybody else is,' said 
 the woman roughly. * How's Miss Mary ?' 
 
 'Better, Jane; t>ut you must never see her again. 
 She must never know.'
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 13 
 
 ' Did you tell her it was dead ?' said the woman 
 sharply. 
 
 * Yes, yes, and so it must be to her. But tell me/ 
 continued Mrs. Riversley eagerly, 'did you make the 
 arrangement ?' 
 
 'Yes, and I had to give her every penny of the 
 money you started me with.' 
 
 ' And she does not know anything ?' 
 
 * No,' said the woman, 'and never will if you 
 behave to me proper.' 
 
 * Yes, yes, Jane, I will ; anything I can do, but 
 you must go from here — at once.' 
 
 * And how are you going to manage ?' 
 
 ' As I can/ said Mrs. Riversley sternly. ' This 
 
 secret must be kept.' 
 
 ' And what are you going to give me to keep it ?' 
 
 said the woman sharply. 
 
 'I am not rich, Jane— far from it,' began Mrs. 
 
 Riversley. 
 
 ' You're rich enough to pay me twenty pounds a 
 year always/ said the woman, with a keen greedy 
 look in her unpleasant face. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, Jane, I will,' said Mrs. Riversley eagerly,
 
 14 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * on condition that you keep it secret, and never 
 come near us more.' 
 
 ' Then I want that gray silk dress of Miss Mary's,' 
 said the woman, with the avaricious look growing 
 in her face. * She won't want to wear it now.' 
 
 ' You shall have it, Jane.' 
 
 'And there's that velvet jacket I should like.' 
 
 ' You shall have that too, Jane.' 
 
 ' I ain't got a watch and chain,' said the woman, 
 ' you may as well give me yourn.' 
 
 Without a word Mrs. Riversley unhooked the 
 little gold watch from her side, drew the chain from 
 her neck, and threw it over that of her servant, 
 whose closely set eyes twinkled with delight. 
 
 * You must pay me the money in advance every 
 year,' said the woman now sharply. * I'm not going 
 without the first year.^ 
 
 Without replying Mrs. Riversley walked to a side 
 table, unlocked a desk, and from the drawer took out 
 four crisp new bank-notes. 
 
 Jane Glyne, maid-of-all-work at the Dingle, a place 
 two miles from everywhere, as she said, and at 
 which she was sure no decent servant would stop.
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 15 
 
 held out her crooked fingers for the money, but Mrs. 
 Riversley placed the hand containing the notes 
 behind her. 
 
 ' One word first,' she said firmly. ' I have agreed 
 in every respect to the hard terms you have 
 made.' 
 
 ' Well, if you call them hard terms ' began the 
 
 woman in an insolent tone. 
 
 ' Silence !' exclaimed Mrs. Riversley, ' and listen to 
 me.' 
 
 She spoke in a low deep voice, full of emotion, and 
 the low-bred woman quailed before her as she 
 went on. 
 
 * I say I have come to your terms that you have 
 imposed upon me.' 
 
 ' I never imposed upon you,' began Jane. 
 
 ' Silence, woman 1' cried Mrs. Riversley, stamping 
 her foot imperiously. ' I have agreed to all you 
 wished, but I must have my conditions too. You 
 have that unfortunate babe.' 
 
 ' Your grandson,' said the woman in a low voice, 
 but Mrs. Riversley did not heed her. 
 
 ' Bring it up as you will, or trust it to whom you
 
 i6 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 will, but from this hour it must be dead to us. I 
 shall give you the money in my hand, and I will 
 do more. This is June. From now every half year 
 fifteen pounds shall be ready at an address in 
 London that I will give you. To such a woman 
 as you that should be a goodly sum, but my condi- 
 tions are that within an hour you shall have made up 
 a bundle of the best of your things, and left this 
 place, never to return. If you ever molest us by 
 letter or visit, the money will be stopped.' 
 
 ' And suppose I tell everybody about it ?' said the 
 woman insolently. 
 
 * It is no criminal proceeding that I am aware of,' 
 said Mrs. Riversley coldly ; ' but you will not do 
 that ; you value the money too much. Do you agree 
 to my terms ?' 
 
 * But my box,' said the woman. ' I can't carry 
 away half my things.' 
 
 * Here is another five-pound note,' said Mrs. 
 Riversley coldly ; ' five five-pound notes. I gave you 
 ten pounds before, and you only gave that woman 
 half.' 
 
 * How do you know ?'
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 17 
 
 ' Because I know your grasping character,' said 
 Mrs. Riversley firmly. ' Now — quick — do you decide ? 
 Try to extort more, and finding what you are, I shall 
 risk all discovery, and bear the shame sooner than 
 be under your heel. Do you agree ?' 
 
 * Yes,' said the woman surlily. 
 
 ' Quick, then ; get your things and go. I will 
 bring you the dress and jacket.' 
 
 * Ain't I to say good-bye to Miss Mary ?' 
 
 ' No,' said Mrs. Riversley firmly. ' Now go.' 
 The woman stood biting the side of one of her 
 fingers for a few moments, and seemed to hesitate ; 
 but the rustle of the new bank-notes as Mrs. Rivers- 
 ley laid them upon the table and placed a paper- 
 weight upon them decided her, and in an incredibly 
 short time she stood once more in the room, in her 
 best clothes, and with a bulky bundle tied up in an 
 old Paisley shawl. 
 
 Five minutes later she had received the money 
 without a word being spoken on either side, and 
 was standing just out of sight of the cottage, by the 
 stream, hugging the bundle to her with one hand, 
 and gnawing at the side of her finger. 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 1 8 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * What a fool I was !' she muttered viciously. 
 * She'd have given double if I'd pressed her, and I'm 
 put off now with a beggarly thirty pound a year. I've 
 a good mind to go back.' 
 
 She took a few steps in the direction of the cottage, 
 but stopped with a grim chuckle. 
 
 ' Thirty pound a year regular for doing nothing is 
 better than ten pound and lots of work. Perhaps 
 we should only quarrel, for she's a hard one when 
 she's up. But I might have had more.' 
 
 She stood thinking for a few moments. 
 
 * What shall I do ?' she muttered. * If I leave it 
 with them they'll kill it in a week, and then there's 
 an end of it, and I get my money for nothing. If I 
 fetch it away I have to keep it. But it may be worth 
 my while. Mrs. Riversley ain't everybody, for there's 
 Miss Mary, and there's him, and if he isn't a swell, 
 t'other one is, I'm sure. What's that ?' 
 
 She started in affright, for just then a strange, 
 hoarse shriek rang out of the wood to her left, and 
 it sounded so wild and agonizing that she stood 
 trembling and listening for awhile. 
 
 ' It was like as if someone had jumped into one of
 
 A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 19 
 
 the deep river holes or the big pit,' she muttered ; 
 ' but I dursen't go to see. It was very horrid.' 
 
 Whatever the cry, it was not repeated, and the 
 woman hurried on for about a mile, when, coming to 
 a side lane, she hesitated as to the course she should 
 take, and ended by going straight on. 
 
 At the end of a score of paces she stopped short, 
 turned and hurried back to the side lane, down 
 which she walked as fast as her bundle would let 
 her. 
 
 ' I don't care, I will,' she muttered ; 'thirty pound 
 a year will keep us both. I'll fetch him away; he 
 may be worth his weight in gold.'
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 
 
 They were about equal in height and build, and 
 apparently within a year of the same age, the one 
 dark, and wearing, what was unusual in those days, 
 a short crisp beard and moustache ; the other fair 
 and closely shaven as to lip and chin, but with a full 
 brown whisker clothing his cheeks. 
 
 The former was evidently terribly agitated, for his 
 face worked and he was very pallid, while the latter 
 looked flushed and nervous, the hand that grasped 
 his trout-rod twitching convulsively ; and he kept 
 glancing at his companion as they strode along past 
 the cottage. 
 
 ' What I ask you is ' the darker of the two was 
 
 saying.
 
 MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 21 
 
 * For Heaven's sake be silent till we get farther on, 
 Rob, and I'll tell you all you want to know.' 
 
 There was silence for awhile, and the two voung 
 men walked rapidly on, turning through a woodland 
 path, when the trees caught the rod of the one 
 addressed as Rob. and he cast it impatiently aside, 
 stopping short directly after in an opening where the 
 path wound round the brink of a deep gravel-pit, 
 the wayfarer being protected from a fall by a stout 
 oaken railing. 
 
 ' Now, sir,' exclaimed the first speaker excitedly ; 
 ' no one can hear us.' 
 
 ' No,' said the fair man in a nervous, hesitating 
 way. ' Go on ; say what you have to say.' 
 
 ' It is soon said, James Huish. I have been away 
 with my regiment in Canada two years. Previous to 
 that chance threw me into the company of a sweet, 
 pure gir], little more than a child then. I used to 
 come down here fishing.' 
 
 'You did !' exclaimed the other hoarsely. 
 
 ' I did, and visited at that cottage time after time. 
 Man, man, I tell you,' he continued, speaking 
 rapidly in his excitement, ' the recollection of those
 
 22 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 days has been my solace in many a bitter winter's 
 night, and I have looked forward to my return as the 
 great day of my existence.' 
 
 'Stop!' said the other nervously. 'Tell me this, 
 Rob : did she — did she love you ?' 
 
 'Love me?' exclaimed the other passionately: 
 ' no. How could I expect it ? She was a mere child, 
 budding into maidenhood ; but her eyes brightened 
 when I came, and she was my little companion here 
 in the happy days that can never be recalled. 
 James Huish, I loved that girl with all my soul. 
 My love has grown for her, and my first thought was 
 to seek her on my return, and try to win her for my 
 wife.' 
 
 ' It's deuced unfortunate, Rob,' said the other in 
 his nervous way. Then, with a kind of bravado, he 
 continued half laughingly : ' But then, you see, you 
 have been away two years, and you have stopped 
 away too long. It's a pity, too, such friends as 
 we were.' 
 
 Ere he had finished speaking his companion had 
 seized his arm as in a vice. 
 
 ' Huish !' he cried hoarsely, ' if you speak to me in
 
 MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 23 
 
 that tone of voice I will not answer for the conse- 
 quences. I do not wish to be rash, or to condemn 
 you unheard ; but this is of such vital import to 
 me that, by God, if you speak of it in that flippant 
 tone again, I shall forget that we are gentlemen, and, 
 like some brute beast, I shall have you by the throat.' 
 
 ' Loose my arm,' exclaimed the other, flushing 
 more deeply ; ' you hurt me.' 
 
 ' You hurt me,' cried the other, trembhng with 
 passion — ' to the heart.' 
 
 ' If I have wronged you,' exclaimed Huish, ' even 
 if duelling is out of fashion, I can give you satis- 
 faction.' 
 
 ' Satisfaction !' cried the other bitterly. ' Look 
 here, James Huish. You have been a man of 
 fashion, while I have been a blunt soldier. If what 
 I hear be true, would it be any satisfaction for me to 
 shoot you through the head, and break that poor 
 girl's heart, for I could do it if I liked ; and if I did 
 not, would it be any satisfaction to let you make 
 yourself a murderer ?' 
 
 Huish shuddered slightly, and the colour paled in 
 his cheeks.
 
 24 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Now answer my question. I say, is this true T 
 ^ We are old friends,' retorted Huish, ' but you 
 have no right to question me.' 
 
 ' Right or no right, I will question you,' exclaimed 
 the other passionately, 'and answer me you shall 
 before you leave this spot' 
 
 Huish glanced uneasily to the right and left, and, 
 seeing this, his companion laid his hand once more 
 upon his arm. 
 
 ' No,' he exclaimed, *you do not go ; and for your 
 own sake, do not provoke me.' 
 
 The speaker's voice trembled with rage, which he 
 seemed to be fighting hard to control, while Huish 
 was by turns flushed with anger, and pale with 
 something near akin to fear. 
 
 ' I will not answer your questions,' he exclaimed 
 desperately. 
 
 ' You promised me you would, and you shall, 
 James Huish. Look here, sir. A little over two 
 years ago there was a servant at the cottage — a cold 
 hard girl. I come back here, and I find this same 
 girl now a woman. She recognised me when I 
 met her yesterday, and, believing that I was going
 
 MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 25 
 
 to the cottage, she stopped me, and by degrees told 
 me such a tale as I would I had never lived to hear. 
 I went away again yesterday half mad, hardly believ- 
 ing that it could be true. To-day I returned, and 
 she pointed you out to me as the villain — as Mr. 
 Ranby — a serpent crawling here to poison under 
 an assumed name.' 
 
 ' Go on,' said the other. ' You meant marriage of 
 course.' 
 
 ' I tell you, man, I never had a thought for that 
 poor girl that was not pure and true. If I had 
 spoken so soon, it might have checked an intercourse 
 that was to me the happiest of my life. Now I come 
 back and find that the peace of that little home is 
 blasted — that the woman I have loved has been 
 made the toy of your pleasure ; that you whom I 
 believed to be a gentleman, a man of honour, have 
 proved to be the greatest of villains upon this earth.' 
 
 * Have a care what you say,' said Huish hotly. 
 
 * I will have a care,' cried the other. ' I will not 
 condemn you on the words of others ; I would not 
 so condemn the man who was my closest friend. 
 Speak, then; tell me. I say, is this all true ?'
 
 26 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' You have no right to question me.' 
 
 ' I say, is this true, James Huish ?' 
 
 ' Look here. What is the use of making a fuss 
 hke this over a bit of an affair of gallantry/ 
 
 'What!' cried the other, grasping the arm of 
 Huish once more tightly. ' An affair of gallantry ? 
 Is it, then, an affair of gallantry to come upon a home 
 hke a blight — to destroy— yes, blast the life of a 
 pure, trusting, simple-hearted girl, who believes you 
 to be the soul of honour ? James Huish, I do not 
 understand these terms ; but tell me this,' he con- 
 tinued in a voice that was terrible in its cold 
 measured tones, ' is this true ?' 
 
 ' Is what true ?' said the other, with an attempt at 
 bravado. 
 
 * You know what I mean — about Mary Riversley.' 
 
 ' Well, there, yes, I suppose it is,' said Huish, with 
 assumed indifference ; ' and now the murder's out.' 
 
 ' No,' exclaimed the other, with the rage he had 
 been beating down struggling hard for the mastery ; 
 ' not murder : it is worse. But look here, Huish. 
 This girl is fatherless,^ he continued in a voice quite 
 unnaturally calm. ' I loved her very dearly, but,
 
 MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 27 
 
 poor girl, her affection has gone to another. She 
 cannot be my wife, but I can be her friend and I 
 will. You will marry her at once.' 
 
 ' Not likely,' was the scornful reply, as Huish tried 
 to shake his arm free. 
 
 ' I say, James Huish, you will marry this poor girl 
 — no, this dear, sweet, injured lady — at once. The 
 world would call her fallen ; I say she is a good, 
 true woman, as pure as snow, and in the sight of 
 God Almighty your own wife. But we have customs 
 here in England that must be observed. I say again, 
 you will marry Ruth Riversley — at once ?' 
 
 'I — will — not!' said Huish slowly and distinctly, 
 the pain he suffered bringing a burning spot in each 
 cheek, and his temper now mastering the dread he 
 felt of his companion. 
 
 ' I say again,' said the other, in the same strange un- 
 natural tone, 'you will marry ^[iss Riversley — at once.' 
 
 ' And I say,' cried Huish, now half mad with rage 
 and pain, ' 1 will not. Marr}' her yourself,' he said 
 brutally, ' if ' 
 
 'Damned traitor I' cried the other, choking the 
 completion of the sentence, as, active as a panther.
 
 28 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 he caught Huish by the throat. ' Dog ! coward ! 
 scoundrel ! Down on your knees, and swear you 
 will marry her, or I will not answer for your life !' 
 
 Huish in his dread half wrenched himself free, and 
 a wild, strange cry escaped his lips. Then, nerved 
 by his position, he turned upon his assailant, and 
 a deadly struggle commenced. 
 
 They were well matched, but the young officer, 
 hardened by a rough life, was the more active, and 
 as they swayed to and fro in a fierce embrace, he 
 more than once seemed on the point of forcing his 
 adversary to the ground ; but Huish putting forth 
 his whole strength recovered himself, and the struggle 
 was renewed with greater violence than before. 
 
 It was an aimless encounter, such as would result 
 from two men engaging when maddened with rage. 
 Their cheeks were purple, their veins stood out 
 in their temples, and their eyes flashed with the ex- 
 citement of the encounter. The danger they risked 
 in their proximity to the deep pit was not heeded, 
 and more than once as they wrestled to and fro, they 
 nearly touched the fence that ran along the brink; 
 but neither seemed to be aware of its existence, the
 
 MIXE OWX FAMILIAR FRIEND. 29 
 
 short grass and heather by the side of the path was 
 trampled, the bushes rustled and the twigs were 
 broken as the antagonists in turn seemed to gain the 
 mastery, and then for a few moments they paused, 
 each gripping the other tightly, and gazing angrily in 
 one another's eyes. 
 
 There was the low sobbing pant of labouring 
 breath, the heaving of strong men's breasts, and 
 then without a word being spoken the struggle re- 
 commenced. 
 
 It soon became evident that Huish was trying all 
 he could to throw his adversary, the idea upper- 
 most being that if he could get Captain Millet to 
 the ground, he might hold him there till help came. 
 On the other side Millet's main thought was to put 
 into execution his threat ; force Huish to his knees, 
 and there make him humbly ask pardon and take 
 such an oath as he should prescribe. 
 
 The upshot of the struggle was very different, 
 though, from what either had imagined, and one that 
 strongly influenced their future lives. 
 
 As the struggle was resumed, the better training of 
 Millet, who was hard and spare, began to tell upon
 
 30 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Huish, whose life of ease had not fitted him for so 
 arduous an encounter. His breath was drawn heavily, 
 and at rapid intervals ; his grasp of his adversary 
 was less firm ; the big drops stood upon his face, and 
 a singing noise began to sound in his ears, while the 
 thought which made him feel infuriate seemed about 
 to be realized, and in imagination he saw himself 
 humbled before his friend. 
 
 In fact, the latter nearly had him at his mercy as 
 they now swayed to and fro, and tightening his grasp 
 with one hand, he suddenly lowered the other, and 
 catching Huish at a disadvantage, he would in 
 another instant have thrown him, when, maddened 
 by desperation, Huish dashed himself forward to 
 forestall his antagonist's effort. Millet's heel caught 
 in a furze-bush, and the two men fell heavily against 
 the rough fence. 
 
 There was a sharp crack made by the breaking 
 wood, the rushing noise of falling earth and stones, 
 and the next moment Huish was clinging to the rough 
 stem of a bunch of golden broom, hanging at arm's 
 length over the gravel-pit, while from beneath him 
 came up a dull, heavy thud as of some fallen body.
 
 MIXE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 31 
 
 Faint, sick, breathless, and ready to loose his 
 hold, Huish clung there in an agony of desperation 
 for a few moments. The trees, the clouds above 
 him, seemed to be whirling round, and he closed his 
 eyes preparatory to falling in his turn. 
 
 Then came the reaction, and, how he afterwards 
 hardly knew, he made two or three desperate efforts 
 to find rest for his feet, but only at first to send 
 down avalanche after avalanche of stones and earth. 
 Then one foot rested on a piece of old stump, and 
 he was able to take some of the strain off his arms, 
 resting there panting, and with a strange creeping 
 sensation assailing his nerves as he thought that 
 in a few minutes at most he must fall. 
 
 He glanced down once, to see that the stones 
 were some thirty or forty feet below ; and in his then 
 position the height seemed dreadful, and with a 
 shudder he wrenched his gaze away and looked up, 
 thinking now of escape. 
 
 The stem he clung to was pretty strong, but the 
 shrub was only rooted in the gravelly side of the pit, 
 and at any moment it might be torn out by his 
 weight. In fact, it seemed already to be giving way.
 
 32 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 But now his breath came in less laboured fashion, 
 and the power to act began to return, the result 
 being that he took in at a glance his situation, and, 
 stretching out one of his feet, he found for it a 
 more secure resting-place, one which enabled him 
 to get hold of a stronger and tougher shrub, and 
 draw himself to where he could stand in comparative 
 safety, with the fence only some five feet above his 
 hands. 
 
 Could he reach that, or must he descend ? 
 
 He glanced down again. 
 
 Descent was impossible, for the side of the pit was 
 eaten away by the weather, and receded from him, 
 so once more with a shudder he looked up. 
 
 Yes, there was a clump of furze a foot or two 
 higher, just on the edge where the grass reached 
 before the gravel began to recede. Could he reach 
 that? 
 
 For a few moments he hesitated to make the 
 attempt — it was so hazardous, for, even should he 
 reach it, the roots might give way. Then, rendered 
 desperate by his position, and feeling sure that his 
 fall must be the work of a few minutes if he stayed
 
 MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. iz 
 
 where he was, he gathered himself together, drew 
 a long breath, made a tremendous effort, and got 
 hold of the stout stem of the furze-bush, which tore 
 and scarified his wrists. But that was not heeded, 
 and drawing his feet up, he struggled vainly for 
 a few moments to get some place of rest for them, 
 but only for the gravel and stones to keep crumbling 
 away. 
 
 Another minute of such effort and he must have 
 fallen. It was only by letting himself hang by his 
 hands with outstretched arms that he could just rest 
 one foot upon a great stone embedded in the face of 
 the pit. Small as it was, though, it was rest, and he 
 remained quiescent once more. 
 
 As he hung there with nerves throbbing, and a 
 strange aching sensation beginning to numb his 
 muscles, he felt once more that he must fall, and so 
 overpowering was the thought that he nearly loosened 
 his hold. But the dread of death prevailed, and, 
 making a fresh effort, he drew himself up quickly, 
 gained a hold for the toe of one boot, made a snatch 
 at a root a little higher, then at another, and his feet 
 rested upon the furze stem. Another effort, and he 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 had hold of one of the posts of the open fence, and 
 the next minute he had crawled through the broken 
 portion, struggled to his feet, and sunk down upon 
 the heath, giddy, exhausted and ready to faint. 
 
 In a few minutes he had recovered himself, and 
 getting up, he was fain to take off the stout bottom 
 joint of his fly-rod, which, with its spear, made a 
 sturdy support as he went to the edge of the pit, and 
 with a shrinking sensation that he could not master, 
 gazed down below. 
 
 He turned shuddering away, and walked a dozen 
 paces to where he could made his way down through 
 the trees to the bottom of a slope, where, parting the 
 bushes, he directly after stood in the cart-track, now 
 grown over with grass and heather, but which had 
 once been the way used by those who carted the 
 gravel. 
 
 His giddiness wore off, and gave place to a terrible 
 feeling of dread as he walked hastily on, parting at 
 last some low-growing twigs of birch, to stand beside 
 the prostrate body of his adversary. 
 
 Millet was lying upon his back with one leg bent 
 under him, and his arm in an unnatural position,
 
 MIXE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEXD. 35 
 
 and as James Huish gazed down upon him, the 
 horrible thought occurred to him that the end of his 
 affair of gallantry, as he termed it, might be a trial 
 for murder. 
 
 As this thought presented itself, bitter repentance 
 attacked him ; his knees shook beneath him, and at 
 last he fell upon them beside the body of his former 
 friend, to moan in agony. 
 
 ' God help me, what have I done ?' 
 
 He took the fallen man's hand, and laid the arm 
 in a natural position. 
 
 It was broken. 
 
 He then tried to lay his leg in its normal place, 
 but there was something wrong ; he could not tell 
 what. And now he did what he might have been 
 expected to do first, laid his hand upon the 
 breast to try and find out if the injured man still 
 lived. 
 
 He started to his feet then with the cold per- 
 spiration bedewing his forehead, and gazing sharply 
 round, he exclaimed : 
 
 ' I call Heaven to witness I never meant him 
 harm.' 
 
 3—2
 
 36 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Then, throwing himself upon his knees, he began 
 to examine the injured man once more, with feverish 
 haste tearing open his shirt-front, laying his ear 
 close to his hps, and ending by scooping up some 
 clear water with both his hands from a little pool 
 hard by, and dashing it in the prostrate man's 
 face. 
 
 * I little thought it would come to this. Rob — 
 can you hear me ? My God !' he groaned, * he must 
 be dead.' 
 
 At that moment, to his great joy, the injured man 
 moaned slightly, and, to Huish's great relief, at last 
 opened his eyes, and gazed vacantly round. 
 
 * Can you drink some of this ?' said Huish eagerly, 
 as he unscrewed the top of a small flask, and held it 
 to the other's lips. 
 
 Millet swallowed a few drops, and soon the vacant 
 look passed from his eyes, and he groaned heavily. 
 
 * Huish,' he said hoarsely. * You've given me — my 
 death-blow — hope first — now my life.' 
 
 ' No, no — no, no !' exclaimed Huish. * Can you 
 bear for me to leave you now? I'll run for 
 help.'
 
 MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 37 
 
 ' Stop,' exclaimed Millet, making an effort to rise, 
 and sinking back with a groan of agony. ' Stop ! 
 come closer.' 
 
 Huish obeyed, and held the flask once more to his 
 lips, but it was pushed aside. 
 
 * Is this manslaughter or murder ?' he said, with a 
 bitter smile. 
 
 * I protest to heaven,^ began Huish. 
 
 * Hush ! Listen ! That poor girl — Mary — now — 
 quick, at once — swear to me by all you hold sacred — 
 you will — at once — make her your wife.' 
 
 Millet's face was ghastly pale, and he spoke with 
 difficulty, but one hand now grasped the wrist of 
 Huish with a firm hold, and his eyes were fixed upon 
 those of the man who bent over him with feverish 
 intensity. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I will — on my soul, I will,' cried Huish, 
 with frantic vehemence. ' Rob, old fellow, if I could 
 undo ' 
 
 ' You cannot. Quick, man ; swear it — you will 
 marry her — at once.' 
 
 * I swear I will,' cried Huish. 
 ' So help you God.'
 
 3S A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * So help me, God!' exclaimed Huish, 'and help 
 me now,' he added in agony, ' for he is dying.' 
 
 ' Here — below there — Hi !' shouted a voice from 
 the pathway above. * What's the matter ?' 
 
 * Quick, quick, help!' cried Huish, and his appeal 
 was answered by rapid footsteps, the rustling of 
 bushes, and directly after, a short, broad-shouldered 
 young man, with a large head and keen gray eyes, 
 was at his side. 
 
 ' I say,' he cried ; * struggle up above, broken fence, 
 man killed !' 
 
 Huish started back, staring at him with dilated 
 eyes, and then by an effort he exclaimed : 
 
 * Quick — run— the nearest doctor, man.* 
 
 ' Six miles away,' was the sharp reply. ' I'm a 
 sucker — medical stoo,' he added ; and puUing off his 
 coat, he rapidly rolled it into a pad for a pillow 
 before proceeding in a business-like way to examine 
 the fallen man's injuries. ' I say, this is bad — arm 
 broken — hip joint out — hold still, old fellow, I won't 
 hurt you,' he said, as his patient moaned. * You'd 
 better go for help. I'll stay. Leave me that flask ; 
 and, I say, just see if my fishing tackle's all right : I
 
 MIXE OWX FAMILIAR FRIEND. 39 
 
 left it up at the top.' Then, as if inspired by the 
 words uttered by the injured man a few minutes 
 before, he exclaimed : ' I say, I don't know that I 
 ought to let you go; is this manslaughter or 
 murder ?' 
 
 ' No,' moaned Millet, unclosing his eyes, and 
 speaking in a hoarse whisper — ' my old friend — an 
 accident — sir — an accident.' 
 
 ' I say, the brandy, man, the brandy,' cried the 
 new-comer. ' By Jove he's fainted.' 
 
 ' He's dead — he's dead,' groaned Huish frantically, 
 as he sank upon his knees and caught his friend's 
 hand. ' Rob, old fellow, I'd give my life that this 
 had not happened ; but I'll keep my word ; I'll keep 
 my word.*
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FOSTER-PARENTS. 
 
 As Jane Glyne said, just four miles away from The 
 Dingle was a low, long range of hovels, roughly built 
 in the coarsest manner, and so covered in that but for 
 a stuffing of straw here and there, the bleak winds 
 and rain that come even in summer could beat 
 through with all their force. 
 
 The hovels were built on the unity principle — one 
 room — one door — one chimney — one window, and 
 they stood in a row close by the bank of a canal 
 which formed the great highway to and from the 
 dirty Goshen of these modern children of Israel. 
 
 But they were not Jews, any more than they were 
 Christians : they were simply work-people — the 
 slaves who make bricks without straw, and not for 
 the use of a king of Egypt, but for modern Babylon.
 
 FOSTER-PARENTS. 41 
 
 The canal was the great highway to this settle- 
 ment, which stood in an earth-gnawed desert of its 
 own ; but all the same there was a rugged pathway 
 which led towards the pretty stream on whose bank 
 stood Mrs. Riversley's cottage, passable in fine 
 weather, a slough in wet ; and there was a roadway 
 for carts, a horribly churned up mingling of mud and 
 water, along which chariot wheels drave heavily to 
 work woe upon that patient martyr of ours — the 
 horse. 
 
 It was not a pleasant spot that brick-field, and 
 seemed to have been thrust out far from the habita- 
 tions of ordinary men. It was not salubrious, but 
 then its subsoil was of the stiffest clay. Here the 
 brickmakers lived gregariously, each hovel con- 
 taining as many as it would hold. Here four or five 
 men 'pigged ' together. It was their own term, and 
 most appropriate. In another hovel, a young couple 
 would have three young men lodgers, while the occu- 
 pants of other dens would have done the same, only 
 that their swarming children did not give room for 
 lodgers to lie down, the superficies of the floors 
 being small.
 
 42 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 A desolate-looking spot on a flat expanse, through 
 which the canal, erst a river, ran. It was once a 
 series of pleasant meadows, but Babylon swallows 
 many bricks. Hence the tract had been delved all 
 over into a chaos of clay, where long rows of bricks 
 stood drying, while others were being made. Stag- 
 nant water covered with green scum lay in the holes 
 whence clay had been dug, while other holes were 
 full of liquid mud. Dirt-pie-making by horse-power 
 seemed to be going on all day long, and soft mud 
 mixtures were formed, water being run into banked- 
 up lakes by means of wooden troughs, while every 
 here and there wretched horses, blindfolded so that 
 they should not resent their task, seemed to be 
 turning torture machines to break up so much 
 obstinate clay upon the wheel. 
 
 The breeze there was not a balmy wind, laden with 
 sweet floral odours, but a solid gritty breeze, being 
 the musty, ill-savoured, sifted ashes of the great city, 
 brought in processions of barges to mix with the 
 clay, to be burned and go back as so much brick. 
 
 ' Bring that bairn here,' cried a shrill voice, pro- 
 ceeding from a being, who, but for the shaping of the
 
 V,- 
 
 FOSTER-PARENTS. 43 
 
 scanty garment she had on, might have been taken 
 for a clay-daubed man. Her long cotton dress clang 
 close to her figure, for it was soaked with water, and 
 on ' that bairn,' a tiny little morsel whose experience 
 of the world was not many hours old, being brought to 
 her by a half-naked girl of ten with something cotton 
 upon her, but more clay, the infant was tended in 
 a maternal way for some little time, during which 
 the woman, as she rocked herself to and fro, made 
 use of an unoccupied hand to draw a piece of 
 rag from her pocket, and then, much to the dis- 
 comfort of the infant, she tied up in the corners and 
 middle of the rag, with as many knots, five new, 
 bright sovereigns. 
 
 ' Look out, mother,' cried the girl, but her warning 
 came too late : a heavy-looking man in half a shirt, 
 and a pair of trousers held up by a strap, and 
 who seemed to go by machinery, for he emitted 
 puffs of smoke from a short black pipe as he moved, 
 made a snatch at the rag, and thrust it into his 
 pocket. 
 
 ' I'll take care o' that 'ere,' he growled ; and, as 
 the woman uttered a resentful cry, he ' made an
 
 44 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 offer ' at her with the back of his hand, and then 
 began puffing smoke once more^ and moved away. 
 The woman cowered down to avoid the expected 
 blow, muttered viciously to herself, and at last rose, 
 and tucked the babe into an improvised bed of rags 
 in the shelter of a shed. This, by the way, was only 
 a sloping roof of boards some six feet by five, cover- 
 ing the rough bench upon which a brickmaker works, 
 and being unoccupied just then, came in handy for 
 the purpose to which it was put. 
 
 * I'll have that back agen, old man,' the woman 
 muttered to herself. * Just wait till you're asleep. 
 Now then,' she cried aloud to sundry clayey imps 
 who were at work fetching and carrying the plastic 
 mass with which they were daubed, ' keep a hye on 
 this bairn, all on yer. If Bill Jones's dawg comes 
 anigh, let go at him.' 
 
 Saying this, she joined 'father,' who under the 
 next shed was puffing away as he worked, a puff 
 being emitted as each brick was made in its mould, 
 and turned out upon a board. 
 
 ' When's she comin' agen about that there kid ?' 
 growled father.
 
 FOSTER-PARENTS. 45 
 
 ' Wait and see,' said the woman surlily, as she 
 attacked a mass of clay, as if it were so much dough* 
 pinched off pieces, and roughly shaped them into 
 loaves a little larger than a brick ready for the man 
 to mould. 
 
 Then there was a pause, during which the puffs 
 of smoke came with beautiful regularity from the 
 brickmaker's mouth, and as a boy approached, it 
 almost seemed as if he were going to stoke father, 
 and put on some more coals ; but he only dabbed 
 down a mass of clay which he had carried upon his 
 head, whose shape was printed in the lump which 
 left a portion amongst the boy's hair. 
 
 * Think it were Bill Jones's dawg as took Lamby's 
 kid, mother ?' growled father at last. 
 
 'Think? I'm sure on it,' said mother. ' It were 
 there one minute, and it were gone the next. Where 
 could it ha' gone if he hadn't took it.' 
 
 The machinery stopped, for father took his pipe 
 out of his mouth, wiped his lips with the back of his 
 clayey hand, which was all the cleaner afterwards, 
 father's lips having the character of a short stubbly 
 bristled brush. Then he thought for a minute ; the
 
 46 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 machinery began to go once more, a puff of smoke 
 was emitted from his lips and he repHed : 
 
 ' Dunno !' 
 
 ' I think Lamby's gal, July, dropped it in the canal, 
 and was 'fraid to tell,' said the girl in the clay robe 
 shrilly. 
 
 ' You hold your noise, and look alive wi' them 
 lumps,' growled father, who made as if to strike the 
 girl, whereupon she ducked down to avoid the ex- 
 pected blow, dodged away to a safe distance, put out 
 her tongue, and said, 'Yah !' and the other children 
 — four — all engaged in carrying clay, laughed and ran 
 to avoid blows. 
 
 They varied in age from five to fourteen, and were 
 all richly clothed in clay, which coated them from 
 their hair — tangled and hardened with the worked- 
 up adhesive soil — to their very toes, which printed 
 their shapes in the moist ground they trod. 
 
 Father seeming disposed to ' hull ' one of the 
 moulds at them, they all hastened away to the clay 
 mill — a machine like a great churn bound with many 
 strong iron hoops and with a thumper or plunger 
 therein, to which a long wooden bar was attached, har-
 
 FOSTER-PA RENTS. 47 
 
 nessed to one end of which was another bhndfolded 
 skeleton of a horse, which still retained its skin and 
 vitality, and went round and round despondently, as 
 if under the impression that it was going straight 
 forward ; but a sharp jerk of the head seemed to say 
 from time to time : ^ It doesn't matter; it will not be 
 for long.' 
 
 At the bottom of the great mill, in a gloomy hole, 
 was a clayey man in a kind of rough apron, and 
 armed with a piece of wire two feet long, whose ends 
 were twisted round a couple of pieces of wood to 
 form handles. 
 
 As the mill turned, the well-mixed clay was forced 
 through the bottom in a mass some ten inches in 
 diameter, which from time to time the man dex- 
 terously cut through with his wire, and passed the 
 pieces to the children who came for fresh sup- 
 plies. 
 
 One took the heavy fat lump, and hugged it to its 
 breast, making a mould in the top for its little chin. 
 Another had it dabbed upon its curly head ; another 
 bore it upon the shoulder, leaving therein the print 
 of the ear ; but the favourite way seemed to be to
 
 48 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 hug it to the breast back to the shed, where mother 
 seized it and went on making her brown loaves. 
 
 Father, whose external machinery consisted of 
 some water, some dry, sandy earth, and a little 
 oblong box the shape of the brick, seized the brown 
 loaves his wife passed to him, gave them a dexterous 
 dab which forced them into the mould, scraped off 
 the top level with the sides, pushed it along on a 
 board, raised the mould, and left there a soft clay 
 brick. 
 
 Then with regular puffs the process was repeated 
 again and again, while a man with a strange-shaped 
 barrow removed the new soft bricks and bore them 
 away. 
 
 At the first sight it seemed as if the babe Jane 
 Glyne had brought had fallen amongst savages, but 
 they were English fellow-creatures, living — existing 
 rather — not so very far from the centre of civilization, 
 and bricks are in great demand. 
 
 As the work went on in its muddy monotony, an 
 evil-looking, long-jawed dog, the very opposite of 
 the hound in the legend who slew the wolf to save 
 his master's child, came slinking and sniffing about
 
 FOSTER-PARENTS. 49. 
 
 the sheds. He was a lean, starving, wolfish, mangy 
 cur, with reddish glaring eyes, always on the watch 
 for kicks and blows. He would have been a big dog 
 had he been fed, but vv'ant of food appeared to have 
 produced a bad crop of hair upon his skin, and given 
 him a thin shadowy look even to his head, which 
 seemed to have been starved into a snarl and a set 
 of teeth. 
 
 The dog slunk here and slunk there for a time, till 
 his keen senses led him towards where, some fifty 
 yards away, one of the brickmakers' dinners lay 
 within his reach. Giving a sharp glance round, he 
 had already opened his sharp jaws to snatch up the 
 knotted handkerchief which held a basin, when a 
 well-aimed, half-dried brick struck him in the ribs, 
 v.-hich emitted a cavernous drummy sound, and with 
 a sharp yelp the brute bounded off. 
 
 But he was too hungry to be driven right away, 
 and before long he stopped short, screwed himself 
 round, and soothed the injured spot with half a dozen 
 licks. Then, wild of eye and wolfish of aspect, he 
 turned once more towards the sheds to seek for food. 
 
 He whined a little, either from pain or from an 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 injured feeling — his amour propre telling him that dogs 
 must live as well as the savages round whose camp 
 he prowled. Then, forgetting one pain external in a 
 greater one within, he set off once more, but this 
 time displaying a caution worthy of a wolf as he 
 Reared the shed where father, mother, and the clayey 
 children were all so busily at work making their 
 summer harvest — too busy to mind the wretched 
 foster-child, which, after feebly appealing against the 
 neglect, and turning its little face to and fro in search 
 of something warm, had gone off fast asleep.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 INOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 
 
 Suddenly in the midst of the work there was the 
 sound of a whip cracking, accompanied by loud 
 oaths, many of them very red, shouts, and the jerking 
 noise of chain harness. 
 
 It was nothing new, but being a diversion from 
 the monotony of their work, half the brickmakers 
 stopped to look on. 
 
 The remnant of a line horse was in the shafts of 
 a heavily-laden sand cart, which he had dragged for 
 some distance through the tenacious mud of the 
 deeply-cut ruts, till, coming to a softer place than 
 usual, one wheel had gone down nearly to the nave 
 in the mire, tilting the cart sideways, and every 
 frantic struggle made by the poor beast only seemed 
 
 4—2
 
 52 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 to set it more fast. Its hoofs, which sank deeply, 
 churned up the mud and water, and it stood still at 
 last with heaving flanks, its great earnest eyes staring 
 appeahngly at its masters, while the blindfolded 
 skeleton in the clay mill went round and round, then 
 stopped short, and gave its head a jerk, as if saying 
 once more, ' It doesn't matter ; it will not be for 
 long.' 
 
 Click, clack, clack went the whip, and the skeleton 
 in the mill started energetically once more, while the 
 horse in the cart struggled spasmodically to move 
 the load, much of its strength being, however, ex- 
 hausted by extricating its hoofs from the clayey, 
 sticky mud. 
 
 Click, clack, clack went the whip once more, and as 
 Jane Glyne came along panting and perspiring with 
 the weight of her bundle, a little crowd of clayey 
 savages began to collect. 
 
 The horse struggled with a piteous expression in 
 the wrinkles above its starting eyes; its flanks 
 heaved ; they moistened the lash of the cruel whip, 
 and still it strove ; but the cart wheels had sunk 
 so low that a team could hardly have dragged it out,
 
 INOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 53 
 
 and the willing beast vainly essayed the impossible. 
 A dozen strong men stood around, as many shovels 
 were within reach ready to remove the clay from the 
 wheels, and partially dig them out ; but, as Jane 
 Glyne looked on, in a strange, hard, callous manner, 
 no one made a move, not a hand was placed to a 
 wheel-spoke to help with a few pounds the labouring 
 beast. Cartloads of hard broken brick rubbish lay 
 about that could have been thrown down to fill up 
 the ruts ; but not a barrowful was brought, and 
 amidst a shower of oaths, there was added, to make 
 it a storm, a shower of blows. 
 
 The horse's struggles grew interesting, and as the 
 little crowd increased pipes were replenished, and 
 the heavy clay-sullied men looked on. 
 
 More blows, more struggles ; but the cart sank 
 deeper, and was not likely to be moved, for, in spite 
 of the frantic way in which the horse plunged into 
 its collar, it could not stir the load an inch. Not an 
 inch, strong as it was ; but there is exhaustion even 
 for the strongest, and at last the poor brute stood 
 deep in the tenacious mud, with wet heaving flanks, 
 staring eyes, and trembling in every limb.
 
 54 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * Here, give us holt !' cried father; and his children 
 brought up in this earthly school looked on with 
 glee. 
 
 ' Father '11 soon fetch him out,' said the eldest 
 boy; and it seemed that at last the poor brute was 
 to get some help. But it was not help the horse was 
 to have, for the whip was handed to father. 
 
 ' Take holt on his head,' he cried to the man in 
 charge, and the latter ruffian seized the rein, and 
 began to jerk and drag the bit savagely. 
 
 'Jeet — jeet — aw — a — a — ya ! Hoot!' roared the 
 ruffian, with a hot burst of oaths, while father, puffing 
 regularly his smoke, turned his machinery to bear 
 upon the poor dumb brute, and with a grim smile 
 lashed and cut at it, ingeniously seeking out the 
 tender parts beneath. 
 
 * Gie't 'im, lad. Gie't 'im,' rose in chorus. 
 
 The poor trembling horse, roused by the stinging 
 thong, shot into the collar in a way that broke one 
 of the chains that linked it to the shaft, and then 
 as a more cruel lash fell upon its side, it fell upon its 
 knees, the cart shafts pinning it down as the load 
 sank forward. Now followed more lashing, the
 
 INOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 55 
 
 horse struggled frantically, rolled over, dragging its 
 legs from the mud, plunged and struck out as if 
 galloping, though its hoofs only beat the mud and 
 water. Then it raised its head two or three times 
 as if trying to regain its feet, before letting it subside 
 into the mud, and the eye that was visible began to 
 roll. 
 
 * Get up !' roared father, with a burst of oaths, and 
 again the whip came into play. 
 
 But it was an order that the poor brute, willing to 
 the last, could not obey, pinned down as it was by 
 the shafts and the weight of the sand. At the first 
 cut of the whip, though, the horse struck out with its 
 hoofs, sending the mud flying, and causing a roar of 
 laughter amongst the crowd as father was bespattered 
 from head to foot. Then there was a curious gasping 
 cry as the horse threw up its head ; a shiver ran 
 through its heaving frame ; a couple of jets of blood 
 started from its nostrils ; there was a strange sigh, 
 and the head fell heavily down in the mud and water. 
 
 Even then there was a sharp lash given with the 
 whip, just as a convulsive kick or two splashed up the 
 mud, before the willing beast lay motionless ; it had
 
 56 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 broken its heart — no metaphor here for excess of 
 sorrow, but the simple truth, while the listening 
 skeleton in the mill gave its head another jerk, and 
 seemed to say, ' I knew it wouldn't be for long.' 
 
 ' Well ' 
 
 Father did not finish his sentence, for Jane Glyne 
 uttered a loud shriek and dropped her bundle in the 
 mud just as a shout arose from one of father's clay- 
 daubed sons. 
 
 * Hi ! chivy him,' roared the boy. * Bill Jones's 
 dawg has got that kid.' 
 
 It was too true: the wolfish starveling beast had 
 watched his opportunity while the crowd was 
 occupied, slinked up to the shed, seized the babe by 
 one arm, and was stealing cautiously off, when the 
 boy turned and saw him, shouted, gave chase, and 
 the savage brute broke into a heavy lumbering 
 canter. 
 
 For a short distance he dragged the child along 
 the earth ; then, with a dexterous twist, he threw 
 it over his shoulders and increased his pace. 
 
 ' Hi ! stop him, hi !' roared a score of voices which 
 echoed through the brickfield, and men, women, and
 
 INOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 57 
 
 children came hurrying from all parts to take up the 
 chase. 
 
 For they saw in a moment what had taken place, 
 and the hunt roused all to a pitch of excitement 
 consequent upon the evil reputation borne by ' Bill 
 Jones's dawg.' 
 
 This being the case, the way off to the open fields 
 where the woodland and stream lay beyond the flat 
 plain was closed, and for a moment or two the 
 dog halted and threw up his head to see that he was 
 hemmed in on three sides by enemies, while at his 
 back was the canal, and for water he had no love. 
 
 Enemies they were indeed, for the brickfield 
 savages were human, after all, and every man, 
 woman, and child was armed with shovel, stick, or 
 well-burned fragment of refuse brick — this last, a 
 missile that he knew by heart as angular and sharp ; 
 and dog as he was, he had sense enough to feel 
 that, if taken, they would pound the life out of his 
 wretched carcase on the spot. 
 
 If he had dropped his prey, he might have shown 
 his pursuers a clean pair of heels ; but he was 
 hungry — wolfishly hungry, and more savage than
 
 58 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 domestic as he was, he literally knew the taste 
 of that which he held between his teeth. He 
 would have died the death before, on suspicion, 
 had not Bill, his master, interposed. Now, however, 
 he saw the said Bill armed with a clay spade, 
 although he whistled to him to come. But '■ Bill 
 Jones's dawg ' knew too well the treachery of the 
 human heart, and would not listen to whistle nor 
 following call. 
 
 Which way should he go ? Towards that frantic 
 woman who had torn off her shawl ? No. There 
 was the clinker kiln, where a whole burning of bricks 
 was spoiled. He could not reach the open — he 
 would have been cut oif as he went, and chopped 
 with spades, and stunned with brick-bats ; but there 
 was that kiln standing old and weather-beaten, a 
 very sanctuary of bricks burned into solid masses, 
 full in view, though a quarter of a mile lower by the 
 other works. Yes, there was that kiln abounding in 
 convenient holes, where he had often spent the night ; 
 he might reach there in safety with his prey, and 
 then 
 
 * Hi ! stop him — stop him !'
 
 INOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 59 
 
 The yelling crowd was closing in and growing 
 more dangerous every moment, so the dog took a 
 tighter grip of his prize, and made straight for the 
 old kiln. 
 
 Brickmaking was impossible in the face of such a 
 chase, and ever}'one joined in, with the full deter- 
 mination that this day ' Bill Jones's daw-g ' must die. 
 
 ' Hi ! stop him — stop him !' 
 
 By an ingenious double or two, the dog nearly 
 reached the refuge that he sought, but he was cut 
 off and turned back by swift-footed boys, yelling 
 with excitement and panting to hurl the first lump 
 of brick at the hated beast. But the dog kept out 
 of harm's way by running between the rows of piled- 
 up, unburnt bricks, which afforded him shelter, and 
 the baby, too, for missiles went flying after them at 
 every chance. 
 
 Up this row, down that, and zigzag to and fro, 
 till the canal was near, and the forces joining, the 
 dog was nearly driven to leap into the foul stagnant 
 water ; but again he doubled, passed through an 
 opening, and was once more in the shelter between 
 two rows of bricks, cantering along towards the end.
 
 6o A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 Here, though, he was cut off again by one of the 
 lads, who, divining the course he had taken, shouted 
 to part of the contingent, and turned the wily brute 
 back. 
 
 But he was not beaten. He was starving, but 
 he was hard and strong : no fattened, asthmatic 
 favourite was he, but long-winded and lank, ready 
 to run for an hour yet, even with the load he bore. 
 Wily too, as his relative the fox, he cleverly doubled 
 in and out, in the maze-like rows of wet bricks, 
 avoiding as if by magic the missiles that were 
 thrown ; and at last, just as the boys were driving 
 him back towards the spade-armed men, whom he 
 had from the first given a wide berth, he cleverly 
 dashed for the weak part in the advancing line of 
 lads, passed them, put on all his pace, and went 
 away for the kiln. 
 
 There were swift runners amongst those lightly- 
 clad, barefooted boys, and now that it had become a 
 tail race, away they went with all their might, faster 
 and faster, and yelling till they were hoarse. For 
 there were shouts and cries of encouragement from 
 behind, enough to spur on the greatest laggard, and
 
 IXOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 6i 
 
 on they went till the dog reached the old kiln and 
 tried to enter a low hole, probably the one he made 
 his den. 
 
 Here, though, he had a check, by the clothes of 
 the infant catching in the rough scoria, when — fox- 
 like — he backed out, turned, and then began to back 
 in. 
 
 That momentary check saved the child: for just as 
 it was disappearing in the opening, the foremost boy 
 bounded up, caught the infant by its leg, and the 
 long robe it wore, and, pulling and shouting hard, 
 succeeded in drawing the wretched little object back, 
 the dog snarling savagely, and holding on with all his 
 might ; but just then half a brick smote him on the 
 head, he loosed his hold, and, backing in, the child 
 with its lacerated arm and shoulder was held up on 
 high amidst the cheering of the boys. 
 
 In another minute the panting crowd surrounded 
 the opening, and Jane Glyne had the baby in her 
 arms, wondering whether it was alive or dead. 
 
 The tragedy was not over yet. 
 
 Bill Jones stood amongst the men, and was for 
 defending his ' dawg,* but the blood of all present
 
 62 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 was thoroughly roused, and though Bill declared his 
 readiness to fight any man present for a pot, he soon 
 cried off on finding that his challenge was taken up 
 by a score of fellow-workers, half of whom began to 
 prepare for the trial by battle on the spot. 
 
 * I don't keer what you do wi' the dawg,' Bill 
 growled, taking out and beginning to fill his pipe, 
 and directly after joining in the attempt about to be 
 made to get the beast out of his place of refuge. 
 
 Forming themselves into a semicircle round the 
 opening, a part stood ready, while some of the 
 sturdiest brickmakers began to drag the burrs apart, 
 a task in which they had not been long engaged, 
 standing upon the heap, before there was a rustling 
 noise ; the old rough bricks began to crumble down 
 inwards ; and with a savage snarl the frightened dog 
 bounded out. 
 
 There was a shout, a chorus of yells, mingled with 
 which was the last ever given by ' Bill Jones's dawg,' 
 for his mortal race was run. Even Cerberus of the 
 three heads could not have existed many seconds 
 beneath the shower of bricks and clinkers that 
 .assailed him after the savage chop given by father's
 
 INOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 63 
 
 spade. One yell only, and there was a mass of brick 
 rising over him, the dog's death and burial being a 
 simultaneous act on the part of those who, old and 
 young, did not pause until they had erected a rough 
 but respectable mausoleum over the wolfish creature's 
 grave. 
 
 * Put a bit o' wet 'bacco on the place,' said father, 
 removing his pipe as he turned to where Jane Glyne 
 and mother were examining the little frail morsel, 
 which, in spite of its usage, began now to wail feebly; 
 * put a bit o' wet 'bacco on the place ; it ain't dead. 
 There, give it to mother ; and, I say, when are you 
 going to pay agen V 
 
 'Never,' cried Jane Glyne, hastily wrapping the 
 baby in the shawl now handed by one of the staring 
 girls. 
 
 * Oh, it ain't hurt much,' said father ; * put a bit 
 o' wet 'bacco on the place.' 
 
 * Hurt !' cried the woman excitedly, as with a 
 newly-awakened interest she held the child tightly to 
 her hard breast, ' it's a'most killed, and if it lives, 
 that dog's teeth have poisoned it, and it will go 
 mad.'
 
 64 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Not it,' growled father ; * why, the dawg is dead. 
 
 Give it to mother, and I say, when why, she's 
 
 gone !' 
 
 He said this after a pause, as he stared after Jane 
 Glyne hurrying towards the path where her bundle 
 lay, but thinking more of her little burden, inoculated 
 by the poison of those wolfish teeth — blood-poisoned, 
 perhaps, as to its mental or bodily state — certainly 
 suffering from lacerations that might end its feeble 
 little life.
 
 THE STORY.— YEARS AGO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 cinderella and the sisters. 
 
 ' Ruth.' 
 
 'Yes, dear; I'll come directly.' 
 
 ' Ruth !' 
 
 'Be quiet, Clo. She can't come yet.' 
 
 * But she must come. Ruth !' 
 
 * May I go to her, Marie ?' 
 
 ' No, certainly not. Finish my hair first.' 
 Two pretty little white patient hands went on 
 busying themselves plaiting the rich dark-brown 
 hair of a singularly handsome girl, sitting back in 
 a shabby, painted, rush-bottomed chair, in a meanly- 
 furnished chamber, whose bare boards looked the 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 more chilly for the scraps of carpet stretched by 
 bedside, toilet-table, and washstand. 
 
 The bed had not long been left, and the two 
 pillows each bore the impress of a head. The bed- 
 stead was an attenuated four-post structure, with 
 dreary and scanty slate -coloured hangings, that 
 seemed to have shrunk in their many washings, 
 and grown skimpy and faded with time; the rush- 
 bottomed chairs were worn and the seats giving way, 
 and a tall painted wardrobe had been scrubbed until 
 half the paint had gone. Even the looking-glass 
 upon the paltry old dressing-table seemed to have 
 reflected until it could perform its duties no more, 
 for the silver had come off in patches, and showed 
 the bare brown wood behind. 
 
 Wherever the eye rested it vv^as upon traces of 
 cleanly, punctilious poverty, for even the dresses 
 that were hanging from the row of drab-painted 
 wooden pegs nailed against the dreary washed-out 
 wall-paper looked mean and in keeping with the 
 room. There was not one single attractive object 
 of furniture or attire besides, not even a bright spring 
 flower in a vase or glass ; all was drab, dreary, and
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 67 
 
 dull, and yet the room and objects full of life and 
 light. 
 
 For the girl seated indolently in the chair before 
 the glass, draped in a long washed-out dressing- 
 gown that heightened rather than hid the graces of 
 her well-developed form, possessed features which 
 might have been envied by a queen. Her dark, 
 well -arched eyebrows, the long heavy lashes that 
 drooped over her large eyes, her creamy complexion, 
 rather full but well-cut lips and high brow, were all 
 those of a beautiful woman whom you would expect 
 to look imperious and passionate if she started into 
 motion, and raised and flashed upon you the eyes 
 that were intent upon a paper- covered French novel, 
 whose leaves she turned over from time to time. 
 
 Bending over her, and nimbly arranging the rich 
 hair that hung over the reader's shoulders, was a 
 girl not unlike her in feature, but of a fairer and 
 more English type. Where the hair of the one was 
 rich and dark, that of the other was soft and brown. 
 The contour was much the same, but softer, and 
 the eyes were of that delicious well-marked gray that 
 accords so well with light nut-brown hair. There 
 
 5—2
 
 68 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 was no imperious look in her pleasant, girlish coun- 
 tenance, for it was full of care consequent upon her 
 being wanted in two places at once. 
 
 For the sharp demand made upon her was uttered 
 by a third occupant of the room — a girl of one or 
 two and twenty, sister, without doubt, of the reader 
 at the dressing-table, and greatly like her, but darker, 
 her eyebrows and hair being nearly black, her com- 
 plexion of a richer creamy hue, one which seemed 
 to indicate the possibility of other than English 
 blood being mingled in her veins. 
 
 She, too, was draped in a long washed-out print 
 dressing-gown, and as she lolled upon a great box 
 whose top was thinly stuffed and covered with chintz 
 
 to make it do duty for an ottoman, her long dark 
 
 hair fell in masses over her shoulders. 
 
 Sisters undoubtedly, and the family resemblance 
 
 of the fair-complexioned girl suggested the possibility 
 
 of her occupying the same relationship, though the 
 
 difference was so marked that cousin seemed more 
 
 probable. 
 
 * Finish your own hair,' cried the girl upon the 
 
 ottoman, in an angry voice. * I won't wait any longer;
 
 CIXDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 69 
 
 I was up first;' and she banged down the circulating 
 library novel she had been skimming. 
 
 ' Shan't !' 
 
 ' Bring my hairbrush, Ruth.' 
 
 The girl addressed retained her hold of the mas- 
 sive plait that she was forming, and, snatching a 
 well-worn hairbrush from the table, reached out as 
 far as she could from the tether of plait that held 
 her to the girl in the chair, when the brush was 
 snatched from her, and sent whizzing through the 
 air, narrowly missing the reader's head, but putting 
 an end to the reflective troubles of the unfortunate 
 toilet-glass, which was struck right in the centre, 
 and shivered into fragments. 
 
 ' Oh !' ejaculated Ruth. 
 
 ' Beast 1' cried Marie, leaping up, sending her chair 
 backwards, and dashing the French novel at her 
 sister. 
 
 * Wretch ! devil 1' retorted the other, her creamy 
 face flushing, her dark eyes scintillating with 
 passion, and her ruddy lips parting from her regular 
 white teeth, as she retaliated by throwing the book 
 she held, but with a very bad aim.
 
 70 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 For a moment it seemed as if blows were to 
 follow, but after a short skirmish with a comb, an 
 empty scent-bottle, and a pin-cushion, the beginner 
 of the fight uttered a cry of triumph, and pounced 
 upon the French novel. 
 
 ' I wanted that,' she cried. 
 
 • Ruth, fetch back that book,' cried Marie. 
 
 ' Please give me that book back, Clotilde,' said the 
 obedient girl, as, crossing the room, she held out her 
 hand to the angry beauty. 
 
 For answer, the maiden upon the box caught her 
 by the wrist with both hands, bent her head rapidly 
 down, and fixed her white teeth in the soft, round 
 arm. 
 
 * There, take that, and I wish it was 'Rie's. Now 
 you stop here, and do my hair directly. Hateful 
 little beast 1 why didn't you come before ?' 
 
 The blood flushed up in Ruth's face, and little 
 troubled lines made their appearance in her fore- 
 head as, after a piteous glance at the other sister, 
 she began to brush the great flowing bands of dark 
 hair waiting their turn. 
 
 ' I don't care,' said Marie, with all the aggra-
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. l\ 
 
 vating petulance of a child. ' Mine was just 
 done.' 
 
 ' But I've got the book,' retorted the other. ' Be 
 careful, little beast ; don't pull it out by the roots.' 
 
 She turned her face up sharply to the busy toiler, 
 with the effect that she dragged her own hair, and 
 this time she struck the girl so sharply on the cheek 
 with the open hand that the tears started to her 
 eyes. 
 
 'Nasty, spiteful, malicious wretch!' said Marie, 
 giving the finishing touches to her own hair ; ' but 
 you'll have a good lecture for breaking the glass. 
 Aunties will be angry.' 
 
 * I shall say Ruth did it,' said the girl. 
 
 * Just like you, Clo,' retorted the other. 
 
 ' If you call me Clo again, I'll — I'll poison you.' 
 ' Shall if I like : Clo, old Clo — Jew — Jew — Jew ! 
 There !' 
 
 As she spoke, Marie turned her mocking coun- 
 tenance to her sister, and finished off by making 
 what children call ' a face,' by screwing up her 
 mouth and nose ; desisting, however, as Clotilda 
 made a dash at the water-glass to throw it at her
 
 72 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 head, and then made a feint of spitting at her in a 
 feline way. 
 
 The whole affair seemed to be more the quarrel 
 of vulgar, spoiled children of nine or ten than an 
 encounter between a couple of grown women in the 
 springtide of their youth, and Ruth silently glanced 
 from one to the other with a troubled, half-pitying 
 expression of countenance ; but she did not speak 
 until the noise had begun to lull. 
 
 ' Please don't say that I broke the glass,' she said 
 at last. 
 
 * I shall. Hold your tongue, miss. She broke it 
 through her wretched carelessness, didn't she, 
 'Rie?' 
 
 * Give me back the French book, and I'll tell you,' 
 was the reply. 
 
 * Take your nasty old French book,' said Clotilde, 
 throwing it back. * I've read it all, and it's horribly 
 naughty. Now, then, didn't she break the glass ?' 
 
 * Yes,' said Marie, arranging her shabby morning 
 dress, and standing before the fragments of the toilet 
 glass, a handsome, lady-like girl, whose beauty no 
 shabbiness of costume could conceal.
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 73 
 
 * There,' said Clotilda, ' do you hear, Cindy ? You 
 broke the glass, and if you say you didn't I'll make 
 your wretched little life miserable.' 
 
 * Very well, dear, I'll say I did,' said Ruth calmly. 
 ' Hist, 'Rie ! The book !' whispered Clotilde, her 
 
 sharp ears having detected a coming step. 
 
 Marie made a pantherine bound across the room, 
 and thrust the book between the mattress and 
 paillasse just as the handle rattled, and a tall, 
 gaunt elderly woman entered the room. 
 
 She was not pleasant to look upon, for there was 
 too much suggestion of a draped scaffold erected for 
 the building of a female human figure about her hard 
 square bony form, while her hard face, which seemed 
 to wrinkle only about the forehead, as if it had never 
 smiled since childhood, was not made more pleasant 
 by the depth and darkness of the lines in her brow 
 all being suggestive of the soap and flannel never 
 probing their depths, which was not the case, how- 
 ever, for she was scrupulously clean, even to her 
 blonde cap, and its side whiskers with a sad-coloured 
 flower in each. 
 
 ' Morning, children,' she said harshly. * Your
 
 74 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 aunts '11 be down directly. You ought to be dressed 
 by now.' 
 
 'Morning, nurse,' said the girls in chorus. 
 
 * Ruth's so slow,' said Clotilde. 
 
 ' Then do your hair yourself,' said the woman 
 roughly. * Ruth, child, turn down that bed, and open 
 the window.' 
 
 Their actions before her arrival had been those of 
 children ; she treated them like children, and they 
 were as obedient and demure now as little girls, 
 while the woman placed a large white jug containing 
 a tablespoon upon the table, and a plain tumbler 
 beside it. 
 
 Ruth began to open the bed, and Marie cast 
 anxious eyes at the part where her French novel lay 
 perd^i. 
 
 * 'Tisn't physic morning again, nurse,' said Clotilde 
 pettishly. 
 
 * Yes it is, miss, so don't you grumble. You know 
 it's Wednesday as well as I do.' 
 
 Clotilde turned her head away, and gave her teeth 
 an angry snap as she went on rapidly dressing, while 
 the new arrival poured out half a tumbler of a dark-
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS, 75 
 
 brown fluid from the jug, after giving the said jug a 
 twirl round to amalgamate its contents. This 
 tumbler was handed to Clotilde. 
 
 * I'm not ready, nurse,' she said pettishly ; * leave 
 it on the table, and we'll take it. We shall be down 
 directly.' 
 
 * I don't go till I can tell your aunts that every 
 drop's taken,' said the woman sturdily. ' I know 
 your tricks, making Miss Ruth drink it all. Both of 
 you did last time.' 
 
 ^ Did Ruth dare to say we did ?' cried Marie 
 sharply. 
 
 * No, she didn't, miss, so don't you go in a pet.' 
 ' Then how could you tell ?' cried Clotilde. 
 
 ' How could I tell, big baby ?' said the woman 
 scornfully ; ' why, wouldn't three doses make her ill?' 
 
 'I don't know. Ugh! filthy stuff!' said Clotilde, 
 taking the tumbler, drinking off the brown draught, 
 and shuddering afterwards. She set down the glass, 
 which was, after another flourish of the white jug, 
 the spoon being held captive by the woman's thumb, 
 half filled again. 
 
 ' Now, Miss Marie.'
 
 76 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Marie made a grimace, and drank her portion in 
 turn, after which Ruth swallowed hers with the 
 patience and long-suffering of custom. 
 
 * Now, Miss Clotilde,' said the woman, picking out 
 something dark from the bottom of the jug with the 
 spoon, * here's your prune.' 
 
 This was held out in the spoon, and it was 
 ludicrous to see the handsome, womanly girl open 
 her ruddy lips to admit the brown swollen morsel, a 
 similar process being gone through with Marie and 
 Ruth. 
 
 * There, children, don't make such a fuss about it,' 
 ^aid the woman. * It's lucky for you that you've got 
 
 aunties who take such care of you. Pretty skins and 
 complexions you'd have if you weren't looked after, 
 and when you grow up, if you're wise, you'll treat your- 
 selves just the same. Now then, make haste down.' 
 
 This was uttered as she left the room and closed 
 the door, after which Clotilde waited till her steps 
 were inaudible, when she stamped with both her feet, 
 and ground her teeth like an angry child. 
 
 ' Oh, oh, oh !' she cried. * The disgusting, filthy 
 stuff. I'm sick of it all, 'Rie. I'll run away with the
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 77 
 
 first man who asks me, even if he's a sweep. I hate 
 it ; I hate everything ; I hate myself, and won't 
 submit any longer. We're not children, and I won't 
 have it. Where's our spirit, that we don't rebel ?' 
 
 ' Where could we go ? What could we do ?' 
 replied Marie. * It's horrible. How could we bear 
 it all these weary years?' 
 
 She clasped her hands, and threw herself into her 
 chair, rocking herself to and fro, while Ruth crept 
 softly to her side, and placed her blonde face against 
 the riper, rounder cheek of her cousin. 
 
 It was a mute way of showing her sympathy, and 
 Marie felt it to be so, for she turned quickly and 
 kissed her just as the loud jangle of a large hand-bell 
 was heard from below, and Clotilde returned from 
 the open window. 
 
 * Come down, girls,' she said bitterly; 'there's the 
 bell. Old Markes didn't see the broken glass. Go 
 on, Ruthy, and let's get prayers over, or you'll be 
 afraid to tell that fib.' 
 
 The bell was still clanging as the three girls went 
 down the one flight of stairs contained in their 
 aunts' share of the private apartments at Hampton
 
 78 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Court, at the bottom of which stairs a tall, thin 
 young man, in a striped jacket, was frantically 
 swinging the noisy instrument to and fro — having to 
 stop, though, to allow the young ladies to pass, 
 when he set down the bell with a clang upon the 
 hearthstoned floor in a dark corner, fiercely dragged 
 a form from under the stairs, and carried it into the 
 dining-room. 
 
 It was a brilliant morning in May, but the one 
 window of that dark room received none of the 
 sunshine, for it looked north, over a festive-looking 
 yard or quadrangle, whose stones were mossy and 
 green, kept comfortably damp by their proximity to 
 a basin of water, out of which spurts of water rose 
 from what looked like pieces of black gaspipe ; while 
 three bloated gold and two silver fish swam solemnly 
 round and round, gaping placidly, and staring with 
 apoplectic eyes upwards at the strange phenomenon 
 of what must have seemed to them like a constant 
 shower of rain. 
 
 The room was loft}^ and panelled in regular 
 compartments, all painted a pale drab, as were also 
 the sides of the floor where the well-worn, indescrib-
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 79 
 
 able-patterned carpet did not reach ; and over this 
 painted portion chairlegs gave uncomfortable scroops. 
 
 It was a depressing room, without a particle of 
 ornament, and would have produced indigestion in 
 the healthiest subject. There was a circular side- 
 board at one end, upon which stood a solemn-looking 
 lamp, whose globe made a dismal boom like a 
 funeral knell when it was removed. Twelve spindly- 
 legged chairs covered with chintz of a washed-out 
 material stood stiffly against the walls, and there 
 were two uneasy chairs covered with chintz and very 
 angular in their backs on either side of the fire, 
 where hung a pair of old-fashioned brass bellows 
 and a worn-out telescope toasting-fork. 
 
 As the young ladies entered the room, looking as 
 prim and demure as the chintz-covered chairs, a thin 
 sharp cough was heard on che stairs, followed 
 immediately by another thin sharp cough like the 
 echo of the first, and two very tall meagre ladies 
 entered the room. 
 
 Each was dressed in a pale washed-out fabric, 
 with voluminous sleeves tight at the wrists, and had 
 her gray hair in a large cluster of curls at the temple.
 
 8o A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 the back hair being kept in place by a large 
 tortoiseshell comb similar in shape to the leather 
 withers protector carried on the collar by the horses 
 in a brewer's dray. 
 
 There was a pinched, refined air about the aspect 
 of their faces, as if they had led ascetic lives in an 
 aristocratic shade; and as they entered the room 
 side by side, the young ladies approached them, and 
 were received with an old-fashioned courtly grace 
 such as was probably presumed to be correct within 
 these palatial walls. 
 
 * Good-morning, aunt dear,' was said to each in 
 turn by the young ladies, in return for which a little 
 birdlike peck of a kiss was given to each soft round 
 face, after which there was silence, each one waiting 
 till there was a scuffle outside, and a little angry 
 muttering, all of which was entirely ignored by the 
 tall, thin, pale ladies, who stood with their mitten- 
 covered hands crossed in front of them, and their 
 eyes cast down. 
 
 Everything was so chilly, in spite of its being a 
 warm spring morning, that the advent of a very old 
 and battered but very hot bronze urn seemed quite
 
 CIXDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 8i 
 
 to send a glow through the room as it was whisked 
 in by the thin young man and placed upon the table, 
 to hurry out and return directly with a crockery toast- 
 rack, full of thin, dry husks of mortified half-burned 
 bread. 
 
 Meanwhile, Sister Philippa unlocked a tea-caddy, 
 while Sister Isabella let some hot water run into the 
 pot, and poured it out into the pale blue-and-white 
 cups. 
 
 Two caddy-spoonfuls were then placed in the pot, 
 which was duly filled, and Sister Philippa said with 
 grave austereness : 
 
 * My dears, will you take your places ?' 
 
 Then in utter silence the three girls came to the 
 table, and partook with their aunts of the very thin 
 tea, sweetened with no liberal hand, while the bread- 
 and-butter looked untempting and stale. 
 
 This went on for some few minutes, every act 
 in connection with the breakfast being performed 
 with scrupulous attention to etiquette, as taught in 
 the highest old-fashioned circles. 
 
 * May I give you a little more tea, Clotilde ?' * Will 
 you have the goodness to pass the bread-and-butter, 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 Marie ?' ' Ruth, I will trouble you, my dear, for the 
 dry toast.' 
 
 After awhile Sister PhiHppa started an enlivening 
 conversation on the number of drawing-rooms that 
 were held by her late Majesty Queen Adelaide at 
 which they were present as girls, Sister Isabella 
 being of our opinion that the Court dresses of that 
 period of history were much more modest, refined 
 and graceful than those of to-day. 
 
 Sister Philippa agreed to this, and with her agree- 
 ment the breakfast came to an end. 
 
 'We will take our morning's walk, my dears, at 
 once, as it is fine,' said Sister Philippa. * Will you 
 go and dress ?' 
 
 'Yes, aunt,' was chorused, and the young ladies 
 rose, curtsied, and retired backwards from the room, 
 to ascend to their chamber, through which Ruth had 
 to proceed to get into the cupboard which held her 
 bed and a small chest of drawers. 
 
 The moment they were inside the room, Clotilde 
 rushed into the middle, gritting her teeth together and 
 clenching her fists. 
 
 'Oh — h — h !' she exclaimed, with a cry of sup-
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 83 
 
 pressed passion, ' I can't bear it. I shall go 
 mad.' 
 
 Then with a bound she dashed to the bed, striking 
 at it and seizing the pillow in her teeth. 
 
 Marie got rid of her suppressed vitality by fiercely 
 seizing Ruth by the shoulders, shaking her angrily, 
 and then, as if repenting, catching her about the 
 waist, and waltzing her round the room. 
 
 ' Oh, Clo ! it's horrible,' she cried, loosing Ruth to 
 seize her sister. * Get up, and let's quarrel or fight, 
 or do something. I can't — I won't — I shan't — I will 
 not bear it. It's like being mummies in a tomb.' 
 
 Clotilde turned round, and let herself sink upon 
 the floor, with her head leaning back against the 
 bed, biting the counterpane and twisting it viciously 
 with her hands. 
 
 * 'Rie,' she said at last, and her eyes sparkled as 
 she spoke, * do you know what happened in the old 
 days to the captive maidens in the stony castles ?' 
 
 * Yes ; the knights came and rescued them.' 
 
 * Then, why don't they come and rescue us ? I'll 
 run away with the first man who asks me. I'd 
 marry that thin wretch Joseph to-morrow if he'd 
 
 6-2
 
 84 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 have me, and I'd stick pins in him all the rest of his 
 life to see him writhe.' 
 
 ' I can't bear it much longer,' said Marie, in a low, 
 deep voice ; ' I'm nineteen, Clo, and you are turned 
 twenty, and they treat us as if we were little children 
 still. Ah, how I hate them both !' 
 
 * Oh, Marie,' said Ruth reproachfully, ' how can 
 you say so!' 
 
 ' Because I do — I do,' she cried. ' I'm not a soft, 
 smooth thing Hke you. If this lasts much longer 
 I shall poison them, so as to be hung out of my 
 misery.' 
 
 ' I shan't,' said Clotilde. ' I say I'll marry the first 
 man who asks me. I will marry him ; I'll make him 
 marry me ; and then — ah,' she cried fiercely, as she 
 started up, and began pacing up and down, beautiful 
 as some caged leopard, ' once I am free, what I will 
 do ! We might as well be nuns.' 
 
 * Better,' cried Marie angrily, ' for we should be 
 real prisoners, and expect no better. Now we are 
 supposed to be free.' 
 
 ' And there'd be some nice fat old father confessors 
 to tease. Better than the smooth - faced, saintly
 
 CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 85 
 
 Paul Montaigne. Oh, how I would confess !' cried 
 Clotilde. 
 
 ' Old Paul's a prig,' said Marie. 
 
 ' He's a humbug, I think,' said Clotilde. 
 
 * Bother your nice old fat father confessors,' cried 
 Marie, with her eyes gleaming. ' I should like 
 them to be young, and big, and strong, and hand- 
 some.' 
 
 ' And with shaven crowns,' said Clotilde mali- 
 ciously. ' How should you like them, Ruth ?' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Ruth simply. * I have never 
 thought of such a thing.' 
 
 'Take that, and that, you wicked story-teller!' 
 cried Clotilde, slapping her arms ; ' I know you think 
 more about men than either of us. For my part, 
 the man I mean to have will ' 
 
 She stopped, for Marie laid her hand upon her 
 hps, and they both began to prepare themselves for 
 their walk as the grave-looking woman entered the 
 room. 
 
 * Oh, you're not ready, then ?' she said grimly. 
 ' No, nurse ; but we shall be directly.' 
 
 * No, you needn't ; you're not going.'
 
 86 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Not going, nurse ? Why ?' 
 
 ' The new Lancer regiment is coming to the bar- 
 racks this morning, and your aunts say some of the 
 officers may be about.'
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HIS uncle's nephew. 
 
 * Why didn't I come ? Why should I ? Very kind 
 of Lady Millet to ask me, but I'm not a society 
 man.' 
 
 ' Oh, but ' 
 
 ' Yes, I know, lad. Did the affair go off well ?' 
 
 ' Splendidly, only mamma left the wine to the con- 
 fectioner, and the champagne ' 
 
 * Gave you a horrible headache, eh ? Serve you 
 right ; should have had toast-and-water.' 
 
 ' Marcus !' 
 
 ' So Malpas came, did he ?' 
 
 ' Yes. Bad form, too. I don't like him, Glen. 
 But that's all over now. Fellow can't always marry 
 the woman he wants.'
 
 88 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 ' Can't he ?' 
 
 'No, of course not. I wish you had come, 
 though.' 
 
 * Thank you ! But you speak in riddles, my Httle 
 Samson. What's all over now, and what fellow 
 can't always marry the woman he wants ? Speak 
 out, small sage !' 
 
 ' I say. Glen, I didn't make myself.' 
 
 ' True, O king !' 
 
 ' 'Tisn't my fault I'm small.' 
 
 ' True.' 
 
 ' You do chaff me so about my size.' 
 
 * For the last time : now proceed, and don't lisp 
 and drawl. Who's who ? as Bailey says.' 
 
 * I thought I told you before about my sisters ?' 
 
 ■ ' Often : that you have two pretty sisters — one 
 married and one free.' 
 
 ' Well, my married sister, Mrs. Morrison, used, I 
 think, to care for Major Malpas.' 
 
 ' Sorry she had such bad taste.' 
 
 This in an undertone. 
 
 * Eh ?' 
 
 ' Go on.'
 
 HIS UNCLE'S NEPHEW. 89 
 
 * Well, it didn't go on or come off, as you call it/ 
 ' As you call it, Dicky.' 
 
 ' I say, don't talk to me as if I were a bird.' 
 ' All right. Now then, let me finish for you : 
 mamma married the young lady to someone else, and 
 there is just a fag-end of the old penchant left.' 
 *0h, hang it, no!' 
 
 * I beg pardon ! — the young lady's, too. But, 
 my dear Dick, I am one of the most even-tempered 
 of men ; but if you keep up that miserable fashion- 
 able drawl and lisp, I shall take hold of you and 
 shake you.' 
 
 ' But, my dear fellow — weally, Mawcus.' 
 
 ' Am I to do it ? Say " Marcus " out plain.' 
 
 * Mawcus.' 
 
 ' No ! Marcus.' 
 
 ' Marcus.' 
 
 ' That's better. There, hang it all, Dick, you are a 
 soldier ; for heaven's sake be one. Try to be manly, 
 old fellow, and pitch over those silly affecta- 
 tions.' 
 
 ' It's all very well for you,' said Dick Millet, in an 
 ill-used tone. * You are naturally manly. Why, you
 
 90 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 are five feet ten at least, and broad shouldered and 
 strong.' 
 
 ' While you are only about five feet two, and slight, 
 and have a face as smooth as a girl's.' 
 
 ' Five feet three and a half,' said the other 
 quickly. 
 
 ' How do you know ?' 
 
 * I made the sergeant put me under the standard 
 this morning. I can't help it if I haven't got a heavy 
 brown moustache like you !' 
 
 ' Who said you could help it, stupid ? Why, what 
 a little gander you are, Dick 1 I'm eight-and-twenty, 
 and you are eighteen.' 
 
 * Nineteen !' 
 
 ' Well, nineteen, then. There, there, you are only 
 a boy yet, so why not be content to be a boy? You'll 
 grow old quite fast enough, my dear lad. Do you 
 know why I like you ?' 
 
 * Well, not exactly. But you do like me, don't 
 you. Glen ?' 
 
 ' Like you ? Yes, when you are what I see before 
 me now, boyish and natural. When you put on 
 those confounded would-be manly airs, and grow
 
 HIS UXCLE'S NEPHEW. 91 
 
 affected and mincing as some confounded Burlington 
 Arcade dandy. I think to myself, What a contemptible 
 little puppy it is !' 
 
 ' I say, you know ' cried the lad, and he tried to 
 
 look offended. ' 
 
 ' Say away, stupid ! Well ?' 
 
 Captain Marcus Glen, of Her Majesty's 50th 
 Lancers, a detachment of which, from the head- 
 quarters at Hounslow, were stationed at Hampton 
 Court, sank back in his chair, let fall the newspaper 
 he had been reading, and took out and proceeded to 
 light a cigar, while Richard Millet flushed up angrily, 
 got off the edge of the table where he had been 
 sitting and swinging a neat patent - leather boot 
 adorned with a spur, and seemed for a moment as if 
 he were about to leave the room in a pet. 
 
 Marcus Glen saw this and smiled. 
 
 ' Have a cigar, Dick ?' he said. 
 
 The lad frowned, and it was on his lips to say, 
 ' Thanks, I have plenty of my own,' but his eyes met 
 those of the speaker looking kindly and half laugh- 
 ingly in his, and the feeling of reverence for the 
 other's manly attributes, as well as his vanity at
 
 92 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 vbeing the chosen friend of one he considered to be the 
 finest fellow in the regiment, made him pause, hesi- 
 tate, and then hold out his hand for the cigar. 
 
 * Better not take it, Dick. Tobacco stops the 
 growth.' 
 
 The boy paused with the cigar in his hand, and 
 the other burst into a merry laugh, rose lazily, lit 
 a match, and handed it to the young officer, clapping 
 him directly after upon the shoulder. 
 
 * Look here, Dick,' he said ; ' shall I give you the 
 genuine receipt how to grow into a strong, honest 
 Englishman ?' 
 
 * Yes,' cried the lad eagerly, the officer and the 
 would-be man dropped, for the school-boy to reassert 
 itself in full force. ' I wish you would. Glen, 'pon 
 my soul I do.' 
 
 * Forget yourself then, entirely, and don't set 
 number one up for an idol at whose shrine you 
 are always ready to worship.' 
 
 ' I don't quite understand you,' said the lad, red- 
 dening ingenuously. 
 
 * Oh yes, you do, Dick, or you would not have 
 been measured this morning, and made that little
 
 HIS UNCLE'S NEPHEW. .' 93 
 
 nick with the razor on your cheek in shaving off 
 nothing but soap. If you did not worship your con- 
 founded small self, you would not have squeezed 
 your feet into those wretched little boots, nor have 
 waxed those twenty-four hairs upon your upper lip ; 
 and 'pon my word, Dick, that really is a work of 
 supererogation, for the world at large, that is to say 
 our little world at large, is perfectly ignorant of their 
 existence.' 
 
 ' Oh, I say, you are hard on a man. Glen ! Ton 
 my soul, you are ;' and the handsome little fellow 
 looked, with his flushed cheeks and white skin, more 
 girhsh than ever. 
 
 ' Hard ? Nonsense ! I don't want to see you 
 grow into a puppy. I must give you a lesson now 
 and then, or you'll be spoiled ; and then how am 
 I to face Lady Millet after promising what I did ?' 
 
 ' Oh, I had a letter from mamma this morning,' 
 said the lad ; ' she sent her kindest regards to you.' 
 
 * Thank her for them/ said the young officer. 
 ' Well, so the party went off all right, Dick ?' 
 
 * Splendid ! You ought to have been there. 
 Gertrude would have been delighted to see you.'
 
 94 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 ' Humph ! Out of place, my boy. Lady Millet 
 wants a rich husband for your sister. I'm the 
 wrong colour.' 
 
 ' Not you. I don't want Gerty to have someone 
 she does not like.' 
 
 * But I thought you said that there was a Mr. 
 Huish, or some such name ?' 
 
 ' Well, yes, there is ; but it may not come off. 
 Mamma hates the Huishes.' 
 
 ' You're a character, Dick!' said the officer laugh- 
 ingly. ' There, I'm going to make you dissipated 
 to get you square, so light your cigar, my lad ; I 
 won't bully you any more,' he continued, smiling 
 good-humouredly, * and you may shave till your 
 beard comes if you like, and wax your — your eye- 
 brows — I mean moustache, and dandify yourself a 
 little, for I like to see you smart ; but an you love 
 me, as the poet says, no more of that confounded 
 lisp. Now then, you've been reconnoitring, have 
 you, and spying out the barrenness of the land ?' 
 
 * Yes, and it's a horrible one-eyed sort of a place. 
 Why don't you come and have a look ?' 
 
 * I shall presently. Seen the Palace ?'
 
 HIS UNCLE'S NEPHEW. 95 
 
 *I had a walk round and went into the gardens, 
 which are all very w^ell — old-fashioned, you know ; 
 but the private apartments are full of old maids.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes ; maiden ladies and widows. Sort of 
 aristocratic union, I've heard. Good thing for you, 
 Dick.' 
 
 * Why ?' said the lad, who had again perched him- 
 self on the edge of the table and was complacently 
 glancing at his boots. 
 
 ' Because your inflammable young heart will not 
 te set on fire by antique virgins and blushing 
 widows of sixty.' 
 
 ' I don't know so much about that,' cried the lad 
 excitedly, taking off his natty little foraging cap. 
 ' Marcus, dear boy, I was walking round a cloister 
 sort of place with a fountain in the middle, and then 
 through a blank square court, and I saw three of the 
 loveliest women, at one of the windowS; I ever saw 
 in my life.' 
 
 ' Distance lends enchantment to the view, my 
 dear boy. If you had gone closer you would have 
 seen the wrinkles and the silvery hairs, if they had 
 not been dyed.'
 
 96 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' I tell you they weren't old,' continued Dick, 
 whose eyes sparkled like those of a girl. 
 
 * Fm not a marrying man, for reasons best known 
 to my banker and my creditors.' 
 
 ' Two of them were dark and the other was fair,' 
 continued the lad, revelling in his description. * Oh, 
 those two dark girls! You never saw such eyes, 
 such hair, such lovely complexions. Juno-like — that 
 they were. I was quite struck.' 
 
 ' FooHsh ?' 
 
 * No, no ; the Lelys in one of the rooms are 
 nothing to them.' 
 
 * Lilies?' 
 
 * Nonsense — Lelys : the pictures, Court beauties. 
 I could only stand and gaze at them.' 
 
 * Young buck — at gaze,' said the other, smiling at 
 the boy's enthusiasm. * What was the fair one 
 like ?' 
 
 * Oh, sweet and Madonnaesque — pensive and 
 gentle. Look here, Marcus, you and I will have a 
 walk round there presently.' 
 
 * Not if my name's Marcus,' said the other, 
 laughing. * Go along, you silly young butterfly.
 
 HIS UX CLE'S NEPHEW. 97 
 
 scenting honey in every flower. I say, Dick, shall 
 you go in full review order ?' 
 
 ' I wish you weren't so fond of chaffing a 
 fellow.' 
 
 ' Did the maidens — old, or young, or doubtful — at 
 the window see our handsome young Adonis with 
 his clustering curls?' 
 
 * Hang me if I ever tell you anything again!' cried 
 the lad pettishly. ' Where do you keep your 
 matches ? You are always chaffing.' 
 
 * Not I,' said the other, turning himself lazily in 
 his chair, ' only I want to see you grow into a 
 matter-of-fact man.' 
 
 * Is it a sign of manhood to grow into a Diogenes 
 sort of fellow, who sneers at every woman he sees ?' 
 said the lad hotly. 
 
 ' No, Dick, but it's a sign of hobbledehoyishness 
 to be falling in love with pretty housemaids and 
 boarding-school girls.' 
 
 ' Which I don't do,^ said the lad fiercely. 
 
 ' Except when you are forming desperate attach- 
 ments to well-developed ladies, who, after your 
 stupid young heart has been pretty well frizzled in 
 
 VOL. I. y
 
 98 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 the imaginary fire cast by their eyes, turn out to 
 be other men's wives.' 
 
 * I declare you are unbearable, Glen,' cried the 
 lad hotly. 
 
 ' My dear Dick, you are the most refreshing little 
 chap I ever knew,' said the other, rising. ' There, 
 put on your cap, my boy, and let's go ;' and leaving 
 the direction of their course to his younger com- 
 panion. Captain Glen found himself at last on the 
 broad walk facing the old red-brick Palace. 
 
 ' I wonder you have never seen it before.' 
 
 'So do I ; but I never did. Well, old Dutch 
 William had a very good idea of taking care of 
 himself, that's all I can say.' 
 
 ' But come along here ; some of the interior is very 
 curious, especially the quadrangles.' 
 
 ' So I should suppose,' said Glen drily. * But I 
 have a fancy for examining some of these quaint old 
 parterres and carven trees, so we'll turn down 
 here.' 
 
 Richard Millet's countenance twitched, but he 
 said nothing ; and together they strolled about the 
 grounds, the elder pointing out the pretty effects to
 
 HIS UNCLE'S NEPHEW. 99 
 
 be seen here and there, the younger seeing nothing 
 but the faces of three ladies standing at a window, 
 and longing to be back in that cloister-like square to 
 gaze upon them again. 
 
 * This place will be dull,' said Glen, as he seated 
 himself upon a bench at the edge of a long spread of 
 velvet turf; 'but better than dingy Hounslow, and 
 I've come to the conclusion that we might be much 
 worse off. The society may turn out pretty decent, 
 after all. This old garden will be splendid for a stroll. 
 And — look there, Dick, the inhabitant of the land is 
 fair. Here is another chance for you to fall in love.' 
 
 ' What, with one of those old Oh, I say, look, 
 
 look! I did not see them at first. Those are the 
 very girls.' 
 
 For Richard Millet's face had been turned in the 
 other direction, and when he first spoke he had only 
 caught sight of the Honourable Misses Dymcox, 
 walking side by side for their morning walk, closely 
 followed by their three nieces, to make up for a close 
 confinement to the house for three days, consequent 
 upon the coming of the fresh troops to the barracks ; 
 the military being a necessary evil in the eyes of 
 
 7—2
 
 loo A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 these elderly ladies, and such dreadful people that 
 they were to be avoided upon all occasions. 
 
 ' Oh, those are the damsels, are they ?' said Glen, 
 v/atchin^ the little party as they walked straight on 
 along a broad gravel path. * The old ladies look as 
 if they were marching a squad of an Amazonian 
 brigade to relieve guard somewhere. My word : how 
 formal and precise! Now, I'll be bound to say, my 
 lad, that you would like to see where they are 
 posted, and go and commit a breach of discipline by 
 talking to the pretty sentries.' 
 
 * I should,' cried Dick eagerly. ' Did you notice 
 them ?' 
 
 ' Well, I must own that they are nice-looking, 
 young inflammable, certainly.' 
 
 ' But that first one, with the dark hair and eyes — 
 she just glanced towards me — isn't she lovely?' 
 
 ' Well, now, that's odd,' said Glen, smiling. ' I 
 suppose it was my conceit : do you know, I fancied 
 that she glanced at me. At all events, I seemed to 
 catch her eye.' 
 
 ' Ah, it might seem so, but of course she 
 recognised me again ! Let's walk gently after them.'
 
 HIS UXCLrS XEPHEW. loi 
 
 ' What for ?' 
 
 'To — er — well, to see which way they go.' 
 
 ' I don't want to know which way they go, my 
 dear lad, and if I did, why, we can see very well 
 from where we are. There they go, along that path 
 to the right ; you can see their dresses amongst the 
 trees; and now they have turned off to the left. 
 Would you like to stand upon the seat ?' 
 
 ' Oh, how cold and impassive you are ! I feel as if 
 I must see which way they go, and then we might 
 take a short cut over the grass, and meet them 
 again.' 
 
 ' When those two fierce-looking old gorgons 
 would see that you were following them up, and 
 they would fire such a round from their watchful 
 eyes that you, my dear boy, would retire in dis- 
 comfiture, and looking uncommonly foolish. I 
 remember once, when I was somewhere about your 
 age, I had a very severe encounter with a chaperone 
 in a cashmere shawl.' 
 
 ' Oh, do get up, Glen, there's a good fellow, and 
 let's go.' 
 
 * I had fallen in love with a young lady. I fancy
 
 I02 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 now that she wore drawers with frills at the 
 bottom, and that her dresses were short — frocks, I 
 believe.' 
 
 ' There they are again,' cried the boy, jumping up ; 
 ' look, they are going down that path.' 
 
 ' I think the young lady was still in the school- 
 room, but though undeveloped, and given to slipping 
 her shoulders out of the bands of her frock, she was 
 very pretty — bony, but pretty — and I was desperately 
 in love.' 
 
 * How wonderfully they are alike in height !' 
 
 * I believe,' continued the captain, in a slow, 
 ponderous way, though all the while he seemed to 
 be thoroughly enjoying his companion's eagerness, 
 ' that if I had made love-offerings to my fair young 
 friend — I never knew her name, Dick, and unkindly 
 fate parted us — they would have taken the form of 
 sweet cakes or acidulated drops, and been much 
 appreciated ; but alas ! ' 
 
 * Oh, hang it all, I can't stand this ! There goes 
 Malpas. He has seen them, and is making chase. 
 Glen, I shall shoot that fellow, or run him through.' 
 
 ' What for, my boy ?'
 
 HTS UNCLE'S NEPHEW. 103 
 
 ' Because he is always sitting upon me, and 
 making fun of me at the mess. Hang him ! I hate 
 him!' 
 
 ' Don't take any notice of his banter,' said Glen 
 seriously, ' and if he is very unpleasant, it is more 
 dignified to suffer than to fall out. Between 
 ourselves, and in confidence, I advise you not to 
 quarrel with Major Malpas. He can be very 
 disagreeable when he likes/ 
 
 * As if I didn't know ! He was always hanging 
 after our Renee — Mrs. Frank Morrison, I mean.' 
 
 ^Indeed!' 
 
 ' Before she was married, of course.' 
 
 ^Oh!' 
 
 ' And used to treat me like a school-boy. I 
 hadn't joined then, you know.' 
 
 ' No, no, of course not,' said the captain with a 
 peculiar smile. 
 
 * But look at him. You can see his black 
 moustache and hooked nose here. He's going 
 straight for them. Look, don't you see ?' 
 
 ' Well, yes, he does seem to be doing as you say. 
 If he is, you may just thank your stars.'
 
 I04 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 * Thank my stars ? What for ?' 
 
 * For his getting the snub that you would have 
 received had you been so fooHsh as to go after those 
 ladies — for they are ladies, Dick.' 
 
 * Yes, of course, but it is horrible to be bested like 
 this. Will you come ?' 
 
 ' No ; and I v^on't let you go. Sit still, you little 
 stupid, and — there, see how propitious the fates are 
 to you ! ' he continued, as he saw something unnoticed 
 by his little companion. 
 
 ' What do you mean ?' 
 
 * Why, the enemy.' 
 
 * The enemy ?' 
 
 ' Well, the Amazonian brigade have seen the 
 demonstration being made by the Major on their 
 left flank, the officer in command has given the 
 order, and they have countermarched and are 
 returning by troops from the left' 
 
 ' But are they coming back this way ?' 
 
 ' To be sure they are, and if you sit still you will 
 be able to enfilade them as they retreat.' 
 
 'Oh, please don't— pray don't, Glen, there's a 
 good fellow !'
 
 HIS UNCLES NEPHEW. 105 
 
 ' My dear boy, don't what ?' 
 
 ' Don't light another cigar. Elderly ladies hate 
 smoking, and you'll send them off in another 
 direction. Besides, it's forbidden.' 
 
 * Oh, very well, most inflammable of youths. I 
 shall have to make this the subject of a despatch to 
 mamma.' 
 
 * Hush ! be quiet. Don't seem to notice them, or 
 they may turn off another way. I say, old Malpas 
 is done.' 
 
 ' And you are able to dehver a charge without 
 change of position/ 
 
 It might have been from design, or it might have 
 been pure accident, for ladies' pockets always do 
 seem made to hold their contents unsafely. Certain 
 it was, however, that as the Honourable Misses 
 Dymcox marched stiffly by, closely followed by their 
 nieces, all looking straight before them, and as if 
 they were not enjoying their walk in the slightest 
 degree, there was a glint of something white, and 
 Clotilde's httle old and not particularly fine hand- 
 kerchief fell to the ground. 
 
 Glen saw it, and did not move.
 
 lo6 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Richard Millet did not see it for the moment, but 
 as soon as it caught his eye he impulsively dashed 
 from his seat, picked it up, and ran a few steps after 
 the little party. 
 
 * Excuse me,' he exclaimed. 
 
 ' Oh, thank you,' said Clotilde ; and she stretched 
 out her hand to take the handkerchief, but in a 
 quick, unobtrusive way Miss Isabella interposed her 
 thin stiff form, received the handkerchief from the 
 young officer with a formal obeisance, and before he 
 could recover from the paralyzing chill of her severe 
 look, the party had passed on. 
 
 * But I had a good look at her,' he cried excitedly, 
 as he rejoined his companion. 
 
 * And that severe lady had a good look at you, 
 Dick. What a cold, steely glance it was !' 
 
 ' But did you see her eyes. Glen — dark as night !' 
 he cried rapturously. ' Pid you see the glance she 
 gave me ?' 
 
 * No,' said the young officer bluntly, ' seemed to 
 me as if she wanted her glasses ;' and then to himself, 
 ' She is handsome, and if it were not conceited, I 
 should say she was looking at me.'
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CAPTAIN millet's BROTHER'S WIFE. 
 
 Plump, blonde Lady Millet uttered an ejaculation 
 and made a gesture of annoyance as she settled 
 herself in a luxurious lounge. 
 
 'Xow, do for goodness' sake wipe your eyes, 
 Gertrude, and be sensible if you can ! I declare 
 it's enough to worry one to death. Once for all, I 
 tell you I do not like these Huishes, and what your 
 father could have been about to listen to your uncle 
 Robert and bring that young man here I can't 
 think; 
 
 Gertrude Millet forced back her tears, and bent 
 lower over some work upon which she was engaged 
 in the drawing-room of her father's house in Grosvenor 
 Square.
 
 io8 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' They are very plebeian sort of people, and they 
 have no money ; but because his father was an old 
 friend of your uncle Robert's when he was a young 
 man, this Mr. John Huish must be invited here, and 
 you, you silly child ! must let him make eyes at 
 you.' 
 
 ' Really, mamma ' 
 
 * Now do let me speak, Gertrude,' said Lady Millet 
 severely. * It is as I say, and I will not have it. 
 Sentimentality does very well for low-class people, 
 but we have a position to maintain, and I have other 
 views for you.' 
 
 ' But, mamma, you never thought Frank Morrison 
 plebeian,' said Gertrude, raising her bright gray eyes to 
 bring them to bear on her dignified mother, who was 
 arranging the lace about her plump white throat. 
 
 *My dear child, comparisons are odious, and at 
 your age you should allow people to think for you. 
 Does it ever occur to you that your mother's sole 
 wish — the object for which she almost entirely lives — 
 is to see her child happily settled in life .'* No, no ; 
 don't speak, please : you hurt me. I consented to 
 your sister Renee's union with Frank for many
 
 CAPTAIN MILLETS BROTHER'S WIFE. 109 
 
 reasons. Certainly his family is plebeian, but he is a 
 young- man whom I am rejoiced to see determined to 
 make use of his wealth to his own elevation — to 
 marry well, and be the founder of a new family of 
 gentry.' 
 
 'But I'm sure Renee is not happy, mamma.' 
 
 ' Then, in her position, it is her own fault, my dear, 
 of course. I had been married years before I had 
 a second carriage. Once for all, there is no com- 
 parison between Frank and this Mr. Huish. If it had 
 not been out of commiseration for your uncle Robert 
 — it being his wish — Mr. Huish would not have been 
 received here at all.' 
 
 Gertrude bit her nether lip, and bent lower over her 
 work as sweet and lovable a face as girl of twenty 
 could have. 
 
 'Your uncle is a most unhappy man; and if he 
 wTre not so rich people would call him insane, living 
 such an absurd life as he does. I often feel as if I 
 must go and rouse him up, and force him to act like 
 a Christian. By the way, you have not been to see 
 him. lately T 
 
 'No, mamma.'
 
 no A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Call, then, soon. He must not be neglected. We 
 have our duties to do, and that is one of them. He 
 is always kind to you ?' 
 
 * Always, mamma.' 
 
 'That is right. You must humour him, for he 
 seems to have taken a most unnatural dislike to 
 Richard.' 
 
 * Yes, mamma.' 
 
 'Do you think so?' said Lady Millet sharply. 
 
 * He forbade Dick to call again after he had 
 importuned him for money.' 
 
 * Foolish, reckless boy! That's the way young 
 people always seem to me determined to wreck their 
 prospects. Your uncle Robert has no one else to 
 leave his money to but you children, and yet you 
 persist in running counter to his wishes.' 
 
 * I, mamma?' 
 
 'All of you. Do you suppose because he desired 
 your father to take a little more notice of this John 
 Huish that you were to throw yourself at his 
 head ?' 
 
 Gertrude squeezed her eyelids very tightly together, 
 and took three or four stitches in the dark
 
 CAPTAIX MILLETS BROTHERS WIFE. iir 
 
 • I have always found Uncle Robert particularly 
 kind to nne.' 
 
 'And so he would be to Renee and to Richard if 
 they were not so foolish. I declare I don't know 
 what that boy can possibly do with his money. But, 
 there, I suppose being in a regiment is expensive.' 
 
 ' Do you like Major Malpas, mamma ?' said Ger- 
 trude suddenly. 
 
 ' Certainly not !' said Lady Millet tartly ; * and 
 really, Gertrude, you are a most extraordinary girl ! 
 John Huish one moment, Major Malpas the next. 
 Huish was bad enough ; now don't, for goodness' 
 sake, go throwing yourself at Major Malpas,' 
 
 ' Mamma !' 
 
 * Will you let me speak, child T cried Lady Millet 
 angrily. ' I don't know what you girls are thinking 
 about ! Why, you are as bad as Renee ! If I had 
 not been firm, she would have certamly accepted him, 
 and he is a man of most expensive habits, Ic was 
 most absurd of Renee. But there : that's over. But 
 I do rather wonder at Frank making so much of 
 a friend of him. Oh dear me, no, Gertrude! that 
 would be impossible !'
 
 112 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Of course, mamma !' 
 
 ' Then why did you talk in that tone ?' 
 
 ' Because I don't like Major Malpas, and I am sure 
 Renee does not, either.' 
 
 ' Of course she does not. She is a married lady. 
 Surely she can be civil to people without always 
 thinking of liking ! It was a curious chance that 
 Richard should be gazetted into the same regiment ; 
 and under the circumstances I have been bound 
 to invite him and that other officer, Captain Glen, 
 here, for they can help your brother, no doubt, a 
 great deal. You see, I have to think of everything, 
 for your poor father only thinks now of his dinners 
 and his clubs.' 
 
 Gertrude sighed and went on with her work, while 
 Lady Millet yawned, got up, looked out of the 
 window, and came back. 
 
 ' Quite time the carriage was round. Then I am 
 to go alone .'" 
 
 ' I promised Renee to be in this morning,' said 
 Gertrude quietly. 
 
 ' Ah, well ; then I suppose you must stop. I 
 wonder whether Lady Littletown will take any notice 
 of Richard now he is at Hampton Court?'
 
 CAPTAIN MILLETS BROTHER'S WIFE. 113 
 
 ' I should think she would, mamma. She is al- 
 ways most friendly.' 
 
 ' Friendly, but not trustworthy, my dear. A 
 terribly scheming woman, Gertrude. Her sole idea 
 seems to be match-making. But, there, Richard is 
 too young to become her prey !' 
 
 Gertrude's brow wrinkled, and she looked wonder- 
 ingly at her mother, whose face was averted. 
 
 ' I have been looking up the Glens. Not a bad 
 family, but a younger branch. I suppose Richard 
 will accompany his brother officer here one of these 
 days. By the way, my dear. Lord Henry Moorpark 
 seemed rather attentive to you at the Lindleys the 
 other night' 
 
 ' Yes, mamma/ said Gertrude quietly ; ' he took me 
 in to supper, and sat and chatted with me a long time.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I noticed that he did.' 
 
 ' I like Lord Henry, mamma ; he is so kind and 
 gentle and courteous.' 
 
 * Very, my dear.' 
 
 ' One always feels as if one could confide in him — 
 
 he is so fatherly, and ' 
 
 My dear Gertrude !' 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * What have I said, mamma ?' 
 
 ' Something absurd. Fatherly ! What nonsense ! 
 Lord Henry is in the prime of Hfe_, and you must 
 not talk like that. You girls are so foolish ! You 
 think of no one but boys with pink and white faces 
 and nothing to say for themselves. Lord Henry 
 Moorpark is a most distingue gentle — I mean a noble- 
 man ; and judging from the attentions he began to 
 pay you the other night, I ' 
 
 ' Oh, mamma ! surely you cannot think that ?' 
 
 ' And pray why not, Gertrude ?' said Lady Millet 
 austerely. ' Why should not I think that ? Do you 
 suppose I wish to see my youngest daughter marry 
 some penniless boy ? Do, pray, for goodness' sake, 
 throw away all that bread-and-butter, school-girl, 
 sentimental nonsense. It is quite on the cards 
 that Lord Henry Moorpark may propose for you.' 
 
 ' Oh dear,' thought Gertrude ; ' and I was talking to 
 him so warmly about John Huish !' 
 
 Gertrude's red lips parted, showing her white teeth, 
 and the peachy pink faded out of her cheeks as she 
 sat there with her face contracting, and a cloud 
 seemed to come over her young life, in whose shadow
 
 CAPTAIN MILLETS BROTHERS WIFE. 115 
 
 she saw herself, and her future as joyless as that of 
 the sister who had been married about a year earlier 
 to a wealthy young north Yorkshire manufacturer, 
 who was now neglecting her and making her look old 
 before her time. 
 
 ' There, it must be nearly three,' said Lady Millet, 
 rising; 'I'll go and put on my things. I shall not 
 come in again, Gertrude. Give my love to Renee, and 
 if Lord Henry Moorpark does come — but, there, I 
 have perfect faith in your behaving like a sensible 
 girl. By the way, Richard may run up. If he does, 
 try and keep him to dinner, I don't half like his 
 being at that wretched Hampton Court ; it is so 
 terribly suggestive of holiday people and those dread- 
 ful vans.' 
 
 With these words Lady ]\Iillet sailed out of the 
 room, thinking to herself that a better managing 
 mother never lived, and a quarter of an hour after she 
 entered her carriage to go and distribute cards at the 
 houses of her dearest friends. 
 
 8—2
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 
 
 Gertrude Millet's anxious look grew deeper as she 
 sat with her work in her lap, thinking of John Huish 
 and certain tender passages which had somehow 
 passed between them ; then of Lord Henry Moor- 
 park, the pleasant, elderly nobleman whose attentions 
 had been so pleasant and so innocently received ; 
 and as she thought of him a burning blush suffused 
 her cheeks, and she tried to recall the words he had 
 last spoken to her. 
 
 The consequence was a fit of low spirits, which did 
 not become high when later on Mrs. Frank Morrison 
 called, dismissed her carriage, and sat chatting for 
 some time with her sister, Lady Millet being, she said, 
 in the park.
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 117 
 
 ' You need not tell me I look well/ said Gertrude, 
 pouting slightly. ' I declare you look miserable.' 
 
 •Oh no, dear, only a little low-spirited to-day. 
 Have you called on Uncle Robert lately ?' 
 
 •Without you? No.' 
 
 ' Then let's go.' 
 
 Gertrude jumped at the suggestion, and half an hour 
 later the sisters were making their way along Wimpole 
 Street the gloomy, to stop at last before the most wan- 
 looking of all the dreary houses in that most dreary 
 street. It was a house before which no organ-man 
 ever stopped to play, no street vendor to shout his 
 wares, nor passer-by to examine from top to bottom ; 
 the yellow shutters were closed, and the appearance 
 of the place said distinctly ' out of town.' The 
 windows were very dirty, but that is rather a fashion 
 in Wimpole Street, where the windows get very dirty 
 in a month, very much dirtier in two months,, and as 
 dirty as possible in three. They, of course, never 
 get any worse, for when once they have arrived a 
 this pitch they may go for years, the weather rather 
 improving them, what with the rain's washing and 
 the sun's bleachinsf.
 
 ii8 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 The paint of the front door was the worst part 
 about that house, for the sun had raised it in little 
 blisters, which street boys could not bear to see 
 without cracking and picking off in flakes ; and the 
 consequence was that the door looked as if it had 
 had a bad attack of some skin disease, and a new 
 cuticle of a paler hue was growing beneath the old. 
 
 Wimpole Street was then famous for the knockers 
 upon its doors. They were large and resounding. In 
 fact, a clever manipulator could raise a noise that 
 would go rolling on a still night from nearly one end 
 of the street to the other. For, in their wisdom, our 
 ancestors seized the idea of a knocker on that 
 sounding-board, a front door, as a means to warn 
 servants downstairs that someone was waiting, by a 
 deafening noise that appealed to those in quite a 
 different part of the place. But this was not allowed 
 at the house with the blistered front door, for a 
 great staple had been placed over one side for years, 
 and when you had passed the two great iron ex- 
 tinguishers that were never used for links, and under 
 the fantastic ironwork that had never held a lamp 
 since the street had been lit with gas, and, ascending
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 119 
 
 three steps, stood at the door, you could only contrive 
 quite a diminutive kind of knock, such as was given 
 upon that occasion by Renee, for Gertrude was carry- 
 ing a large bouquet of flowers. 
 
 The knock was hard enough to bring a little 
 bleached, sparrow-like man, dressed in black, to the 
 door, and his colourless face, made more pallid by 
 a little black silk cap he wore, brightened as he held 
 his head first on one side, then on the other, his 
 triangular nose adding to his sparrow-like appear- 
 ance^ and giving a stranger the idea that he would 
 never kiss anyone, but would peck. 
 
 ' How is my uncle this morning, Vidler ?' said 
 Gertrude. 
 
 ' Capital, miss,' said the little man, holding wide 
 the door for the ladies to enter, and closing it quickly, 
 lest, apparently, too much light should enter at the 
 same time. 
 
 For the place was very gloomy and subdued with- 
 in. The great leather porter's chair, the umbrella- 
 stand, and the pictures all looked sombre and black. 
 Even the two classical figures holding lamps, that had 
 not been lighted for a quarter of a century at least.
 
 I20 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 were swarthy, and a stranger would have gone stumb- 
 ling and feeling his way along ; but not so Vidler, 
 Captain Robert Millet's handy servant. He was as 
 much at home in the gloom as an owl, and in a quick, 
 hurried way that was almost spasmodic he led the 
 visitors upstairs, but only to stop on the first landing. 
 ' If I might make so bold, Miss Gertrude/ he said, 
 holding his head on one side. ' I don't often see a 
 flower now.' 
 
 The girl held up the bouquet, and the little man 
 had a long sniff with a noise as if taking a pinch of 
 snuff, said, ' Thank you, miss/ and went on up to the 
 back drawing-room door, which was a little lighter 
 than the staircase, for the top of the shutters of one 
 of the three tall narrow windows was open. 
 
 A glance round the room showed that it was 
 scrupulously clean. Time had blackened the paint 
 and ceiling, but everything that could be cleaned or 
 polished was in the highest state of perfection. 
 
 For Valentine Vidler and his wife Salome, being 
 very religious and conscientious people, told them- 
 selves and one another nearly every day that as the 
 master never supervised anything it was the more
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 121 
 
 their duty to keep the place in the best of order. 
 For instance, Vidler would say : 
 
 ' I don't think I shall clean all that plate over this 
 week, Salome. It's as bright as it can be.' 
 
 When to him Salome : ' Valentine, there's One 
 above who knows all, and though your master may 
 not know that you have not cleaned the plate, He 
 will.' 
 
 ' That's very true, Salome,' the little man would say 
 with a sigh, and then set to work in a green baize 
 apron, and was soon be-rouged up to the eyes as he 
 polished away. 
 
 Another day, perhaps, it would be Salome's turn ; 
 for the temptation, as she called it, would attack her. 
 The weather would be hot, perhaps, and a certain 
 languid feeling, the result of a want of change, w^ould 
 come over her. 
 
 * Valentine,' she would say, perhaps, ' I think the 
 big looking-glass in the drawing-room will do this 
 week ; it's as clean as clean.' 
 
 ' Hah r would say Valentine, w^ith a sigh, ' Satan 
 has got tight hold of you again, my dear little 
 woman. It is your weakness that you ought to
 
 122 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 resist. Do you think the Lord cannot see those 
 three fly-specks at the bottom corner ? Resist the 
 temptation, woman ; resist it.' 
 
 Then little Salome, who was a tiny plump downy 
 woman, who somehow reminded people of a thick 
 potato-shoot that had grown in the dark, would sigh, 
 put on an apron that covered her all over except her 
 face, climb on a pair of steps, and polish the great 
 mirror till it was as clear as hands could make it. 
 
 She was a pleasant-faced little body, and very 
 neatly dressed. There was a little fair sausage made 
 up of roUed-up hair on each side of her face, two very 
 shiny smooth surfaces of hair over her forehead, and 
 a neat little white line up the centre, the whole 
 being surmounted by one of those quaint high- 
 crowned caps which project over to the front. In 
 fact, there was, in spite of the potato-shoot allusion, a 
 good deal of resemblance in little Mrs. Vidler to a 
 plump charity child, especially as she wore an apron 
 with a bib, a white muslin kerchief crossed over her 
 bosom, and a pair of muslin sleeves up to her elbows. 
 
 The little woman was in the drawing-room armed 
 with a duster as Valentine showed up the young
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 123 
 
 ladies, and she faced round and made two little bobs, 
 quite in the charity-school-child fashion, as taught by 
 those who so carefully make it the first duty of such 
 children to obey their pastors and masters, and order 
 themselves lowly and reverently, and make bobs and 
 bows to — all their betters. 
 
 'Why, my dears, I am glad you're come,' she 
 exclaimed. ' Miss Renee — there, I beg your pardon 
 — Mrs. Morrison, what an age it is since I saw you I 
 And only to think you are a married lady now, when 
 only the other day you two were little things, and I 
 used to bring you one in each hand, looking quite 
 frightened, into this room 
 
 ' Ah yes, Salome, times are changed,' said Renee 
 sadly. ' How is uncle T 
 
 ' Very well, my dear,' said the little woman, holding 
 her head on one side to listen in the same bird-like 
 way adopted by her husband. ' He's not in his room 
 yet. But what beautiful flowers !' 
 
 She, too, inhaled the scent precisely in her hus- 
 band's fashion, before fetching a china bowl from a 
 chiffonier, and carefully wiping it inside and out, 
 though it was already the perfection of cleanliness.
 
 124 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * A jug of clean water, if you please, Vidler/ she 
 said softly. 
 
 ' Yes, my dear/ said the little man, smiling at the 
 sisters, and giving his hands a rub together, before 
 obeying his wife. 
 
 ' I was so sorry, Miss Renee — there, I must call 
 you so, my dear ; it's so natural — I was so sorry that 
 I did not see you when you came. Only to think of 
 my being out a whole month nursing my poor sister ! 
 I hadn^t been aw^ay from the place before for twenty 
 years, and poor Vidler was so upset without me. 
 And I don't think,' she added, nodding, * that master 
 liked it.' 
 
 ' I'm sure he would not,' said Gertrude ; and then, 
 the little man coming in very quietly and closing the 
 door after him, water was poured in the china bowl, 
 the flowers duly deposited therein and placed upon a 
 small mahogany bracket in front of a panel in the 
 centre of the room. 
 
 ' There, my dears, I'll go now. I dare say he will 
 not be long.' 
 
 The little woman smiled at the sisters, and the 
 little man nodded at them in a satisfied way as if he
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 125 
 
 thought them very pleasant to look upon. Then, 
 taking his wife's hand, they toddled together out of 
 the room. 
 
 A quaint, subdued old room — clean, and yet 
 comfortless. Upon a wet day, when a London fog 
 hung over the streets and filled the back yards, no 
 female could have sat in it for an hour without 
 moistening her handkerchief with tears. For it was, 
 in its dim twilight, like a drawing-room of the past, 
 full of sad old memories of the dead and gone, who 
 haunted it and clung to its furniture and chairs. It 
 was impossible to sit there long without peopling the 
 seats with those who once occupied them — without 
 seeing soft, sad faces reflected in the mirrors, or 
 hearing fancied footsteps on the faded carpet. 
 
 And it was so now, as the sisters sat thinking in 
 silence, Renee with her head resting upon her hand, 
 Gertrude with her eyes closed, half dreaming of what 
 might have been. 
 
 For Gertrude's thoughts ran back to a miniature in 
 her father's desk of a handsome, sun-browned young 
 man in uniform, bright-eyed, keen, and animated; and 
 she thought of what she had heard of his history: how
 
 126 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 he had loved some fair young girl before his regiment 
 was ordered away to Canada. How he had come 
 back to find that she had become another's, and then 
 that some terrible struggle had occurred between him 
 and his rival, and the young officer had been maimed 
 for life — turned in one minute from the strong, 
 vigorous man to a misanthrope, who dragged himself 
 about with difficulty, half paralyzed in his lower 
 limbs, but bruised more painfully in his heart. For, 
 broken in spirit as in body, he had shut himself 
 up, after his long illness, never seeing a soul, 
 never going out of the closely shuttered rooms 
 that he had chosen for himself in his lonely faded 
 house. 
 
 Vidler had been a drummer in his regiment, she 
 had heard, and he had devoted himself to the master 
 who had fetched him in when lying wounded under 
 fire ; and in due time Vidler had married and 
 brought his little wife to the house, the couple never 
 leaving it except on some emergency, but growing to 
 like the darkness in which they dwelt, and sternly 
 doing their duty by him they served. 
 
 ' Poor uncle !' sighed Gertrude, as she thought of his
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 127 
 
 desolate life, and her own sad position. ' I wonder 
 who it was he loved.' 
 
 As the thought crossed her mind, there was a 
 slight noise in the next room, like the tapping of a 
 stick upon the floor, and Gertrude laid her hand upon 
 her sister^s arm. 
 
 Then the noise ceased, and the little panel, about 
 a foot square, before which the flowers had been 
 placed, was drawn aside, seeming to run into a groove. 
 
 The sisters did not move, but waited, knowing from 
 old experience that at a word or movement on their 
 part the panel would be clapped impatiently to, and 
 that their visit would be a fruitless one. 
 
 A stranger would have thought of rats and the 
 action of one of those rodents in what took place ; 
 for now that the panel had been slid back, all 
 remained perfectly still, as if the mover were 
 listening and watching. Then at last a thin^ very 
 white hand appeared, lifted the flowers out of the 
 bowl, and they disappeared. 
 
 There was not even a rustling noise heard for a 
 few minutes, during which the sisters sat patiently 
 waiting.
 
 128 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 At last there was a faint sigh ; and a cold — so to 
 speak, colourless — voice said : 
 
 ' Is Gertrude there ?' 
 
 'Yes, dear uncle/ said the young girl eagerly. 
 
 ' Anyone else ?' 
 
 ' I am here too, dear uncle,' said Renee. 
 
 ' Hah ! I am glad to hear you, my children — glad 
 to hear you. How is my brother ?' 
 
 ^ Papa is not very well, uncle,' said Gertrude. ' Poor 
 dear, his cough is very troublesome.' 
 
 ' Poor Humphrey ! he is so weak,^ said the voice, 
 in the same cold, monotonous way that was almost 
 repulsive in its chilling tone. ' Tell him, when he is 
 well enough, he can come and talk to me for half an 
 hour. I cannot bear more.' 
 
 ' Yes, dear uncle, I will tell him,' said Renee. 
 
 Then there was another pause, and at last the thin 
 white hand stole cautiously forth, half covered with a 
 lace frill, and the cold voice said : 
 
 * Renee !' 
 
 The young wife left her seat, went forward, took it in 
 her ungloved hand, and kissed it. Then she returned 
 to her place, and the voice said :
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 129 
 
 ' Gertrude !' 
 
 The young girl went through the same per- 
 formance, and as she loosed it, the hand was passed 
 gently over both her cheeks, and then withdrawn,. 
 when Gertrude returned to her seat, and there was 
 again silence. 
 
 ' You are not happy, Renee,' said the voice at last, 
 in its cold measured accents ; ' there was a tear on my 
 hand.' 
 
 Renee sighed, but made no reply. 
 
 ' Gertrude, child, I like duty towards parents ; but I 
 think a daughter goes too far when, at their wish, she 
 marries a man she does not love/ 
 
 'Oh, uncle dear,' cried Gertrude hysterically/ pray, 
 pray, do not talk like this !' 
 
 She made a brave effort to keep back her tears, 
 and partially succeeded, for Renee softly knelt down 
 by her side and drew her head close to her breast. 
 
 ' Poor children !' said the voice again. ' I am 
 sorry, but I cannot help you. You must help 
 yourselves.' 
 
 There was a nervous, querulous tone in the voice 
 now, as if the suppressed sobs that faintly rose troubled 
 
 VOL, I. 9
 
 I30 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 the speaker, but it had passed when the voice was 
 heard once more in a quiet way, more like an appeal 
 than a command : 
 ' Sing to me.' 
 
 The sisters rose and went to a very old-fashioned 
 grand piano, opened it, and Gertrude's fingers sweptthe 
 wiry jangling chords which sounded quite in keeping 
 with the room ; then, subduing the music as much as 
 possible, so that their fresh young voices dominated, 
 rising and falling in a rich harmony that floated 
 through the room, they sang the old, old duet, 
 ' Flow on, thou shining river.' Every note seemed to 
 have in it the sadness of age, the mournful blending 
 of the bygone when hope was young and disappoint- 
 ment and "care had not crushed with a load of misery 
 a heart once fresh as those of the singers. 
 
 A deep sigh came from the little panel, unheard, 
 though, by the two girls, and the hand appeared once 
 more for the thin white fingers to tap the wood 
 gently in unison with the music, which was inexpres- 
 sibly sweet, though sad. 
 
 For how is it that those melodies of the past, even 
 though major, seemed to acquire a mournful tone
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 131 
 
 that is not minor, but has all its sad sweetness ? Take 
 what pathetic air you will of a generation or two 
 back, and see if it has not acquired within your 
 knowledge a power of drawing tears that it had not 
 in the days of old. 
 
 From the simple duet, first one and then the other 
 glided to the old-fashioned ditties popular thirty or 
 forty years before. ' Those evening bells/ 'Waters of 
 Elle/ and the like, till, without thinking, Gertrude 
 began 'Love not,' her sweet young voice sounding in- 
 tensely pathetic as she went on, gradually gathering 
 inspiration from the words, till in the midst of the 
 sweetest, most appealing strain, she uttered a cry of 
 misery, and threw herself sobbing into her sister's arms. 
 
 ' Oh, Gerty, darling, why did you sing that t' 
 whispered Renee, trying to soothe her, as her own 
 tears fell fast, but for a few minutes in vain, till by 
 a brave effort Gertrude got the better of her hysterical 
 feelings, and, hastily wiping her eyes, glanced towards 
 the panel, where the bowl of water stood upon the 
 bracket, but the opening was closed. 
 
 The sisters looked piteously at one another, and 
 Renee whispered : 
 
 9—2
 
 132 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Speak to him. Tell him you did not wish to 
 make him angry.' 
 
 Gertrude glided to the panel, and, stifling a sob, she 
 said softly: 
 
 ' Uncle, dear uncle, do not be cross with me — I am 
 very sorry. I was so miserable.' 
 
 There was no reply — no sound to indicate that the 
 words had been heard ; and after waiting for about 
 a quarter of an hour the two girls crossed to the 
 door, went slowly out, and found that they had had 
 an audience in the shape of Valentine Vidler and his 
 wife, who had been seated upon the stairs. 
 
 'Thank you, my dears,' said Salome, nodding and 
 smiling. ' We like to hear you sing. You have made 
 a very long stay to-day, and his lunch is quite ready.' 
 
 The sisters were too heartsore to trust themselves 
 to say much, and Vidler opened the door for them, 
 admitting as little light as he could by closing it 
 directly and going to assist his wife. 
 
 ' Renee,' said Gertrude as they reached the square, 
 ' do you remember what Uncle Robert said ?' 
 
 ' Yes. He could not help us — we must help 
 ourselves.''
 
 THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 133 
 
 ' Then ' There was a pause. 
 
 * Yes, dear, what ?' 
 
 ' I'm sure mamma is planning for me to marry 
 Lord Henry Moorpark.' 
 
 * I'm afraid so.' 
 
 ' And I'm sure, Ren dear, he's a dear, amiable, nice 
 old man ; but if he proposes I never will say " Yes." ' 
 
 There was another pause, and then Renee smiled, 
 passed her arm round her handsome sister's neck, and 
 kissed her lovingly. 
 
 ' Have you got John Huish very bad ?' she 
 whispered. 
 
 Gertrude's cheeks were crimson, and the colour 
 flushed into her neck as she flung her arms round her 
 sister and hid her face on her breast.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DR. STONOR'S patient. 
 
 ' The doctor at home ?' 
 
 This to a quiet, sedate-looking man in livery, who 
 opened the door of one of the serious-looking houses 
 in Finsbury Circus, where, upon a very shiny brass 
 plate, were in Roman letters the words ' Dr. Stonor.' 
 
 There was not much in those few black letters, but 
 many a visitor had gone up the carefully-whitened 
 steps, gazed at them, stepped down again with a 
 curious palpitation of the heart, and walked right 
 round the Circus two or three times to gain 
 composure enough before once more ascending the 
 steps and knocking at the door. 
 
 There had been cases — not a few — where visitors 
 had spent weeks in making up their minds to go to
 
 DR. STONOKS PATIENT. 13-5 
 
 Dr. Stonor, and had reached his doorstep only to hurry 
 back home quite unable to face him, and then suffer 
 in secret perhaps for months to come. 
 
 For what would that interview reveal ? That the 
 peculiar sensations or pains were due to some trifling 
 disorganization that a guinea and a prescription would 
 set right, or that the seeds of some fatal disease had 
 begun to shoot ? 
 
 Daniel, factotum to Dr. Stonor, had been standing 
 like a spider watching at the slip of a window 
 beside the door waiting for sick flies to come into the 
 doctor's net. 
 
 ' Old game !' said Daniel to himself, as he drew 
 back from the window to observe unseen, and without 
 moving a muscle in his face. For it was Daniel's 
 peculiarity that he never did move the muscles of his 
 face. He would hold a patient for his master during 
 a painful operation, be scolded, badgered, see harrow- 
 ing scenes, receive vails, hear praise or abuse of the 
 doctor — for these are both applied to medicine men — 
 and all without making a sign, losing his nerve, or 
 being elated. Daniel was always the same — clean, 
 quiet, self-possessed ; and he had seen handsome
 
 136 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 fair-bearded John Hulsh descend from a cab, walk up 
 to the door, pass by and go slowly and thoughtfully 
 on, passing his hand over his thick golden beard, 
 looking very tall, manly, and unpatientlike, as he 
 passed on round the Circus. 
 
 'He'll be back in ten minutes,' said Daniel to 
 himself, as he admitted a regular patient and once 
 more closed the door. It was a quarter of an hour, 
 though, before John Huish came to the house, asked 
 if the doctor was at home, was shown into the 
 waiting-room, and in due course came face to face 
 with the keen, gray, big-headed, clever-looking little 
 practitioner. 
 
 'Ah, Huish, my dear boy ! Glad to see you, John. 
 Sit down. This is kind of you, to look me up. I've 
 only just come back from a fishing trip — trouting. 
 Old habit. Down this way Y 
 
 ' Well, no, doctor,"* said the young man hesitatingly. 
 ' The fact is, I came to consult you.' 
 
 ' Glad of it. I was the first person who ever took 
 hold of your little hand, and the tiny fingers clutched 
 one of mine as if you trusted me. And you always 
 kept it up — eh ? I'm very glad.'
 
 DR. STONORS PATIENT. 137 
 
 ' Glad, sir ?' 
 
 ' Of course I am,' said tlie doctor, taking out his 
 keys and unlocking a drawer. ' What is it, my boy 
 — a little cheque ?' 
 
 ' Oh dear no, doctor/ 
 
 ' Nothing serious, I hope.' 
 
 * I hope not. I thought I would consult you.' 
 
 ' That's right, my lad. Well, what is it } Going 
 to buy a horse — speculate in the funds — try a yacht- 
 ing trip V 
 
 ' My dear sir,' said Huish, smiling, ' you do not 
 understand me. I am afraid I am ill.' 
 
 '111? You? 111.?' said the doctor, jumping up 
 and laying his hands on the young man's shoulders 
 as he gazed into his frank, earnest eyes. ' Get 
 up. Jack. You were almost my first baby, and I was 
 very proud of you. Finest built little fellow I ever 
 saw. There, put out your tongue' — he was obeyed 
 — ' let's feel your pulse ' — this was done — ' here, let 
 me listen at your chest. Pull a long, deep breath ;' 
 and the doctor listened, made him pull off his coat 
 and clapped his ear to his back, rumpled his shirt-front 
 as he tapped and punched him all over, concluding by
 
 138 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 giving the visitor a back-handed slap in the chest, 
 and resuming his seat, exclaiming : 
 
 * Why, you young humbug, what do you mean by 
 coming here with such a cock-and-bull story ? Your 
 physique is perfect. You are as sound as a bell. 
 You are somewhere about thirty years old, and you 
 are a deuced good-looking young fellow. What do 
 you want?' 
 
 '■ You take my breath away, doctor,' said the young 
 man, smiling. * I want to explain.' 
 
 ^ Explain away, then, my dear boy ; but, for 
 goodness' sake, don't be such an ass as to think 
 the first time you are a bit bilious, or hipped, 
 or melancholy, that you are ill. Oh, by the way, 
 while I think of it, I had a letter from your people 
 yesterday. They want me to have a run down to 
 Shropshire.' 
 
 ' Why not go V 
 
 * Again } I can^t. Fifty people want me, and they 
 would swear to a man if I went away that I was 
 indirectly murdering them. But come, I keep on 
 chattering. Now then, I say, what's the matter } In 
 love ?'
 
 DR. STONORS PATIENT. 139 
 
 The colour deepened a little on the white forehead, 
 and the visitor replied quietly : 
 
 ' I should not consult a physician for that ailment. 
 The fact is, that for some while past I have felt as if 
 my memory were going.' 
 
 ' Tut ! nonsense !' 
 
 ' At times it seems as if a perfect cloud were drawn 
 between the present and the past. I can't account 
 for it — I do not understand it; but things I have 
 done one week are totally forgotten by me the 
 next.' 
 
 ' If they are bad things, so much the better.' 
 
 * You treat it very lightly, sir, but it troubles me a 
 great deal' 
 
 'My dear boy, I would not treat it lightly if I 
 thought there was anything in it ; but you do not and 
 never have displayed a symptom of brain disease, 
 neither have your father and mother before you. 
 You are not dissipated.' 
 
 ' Oh no ! I never ' 
 
 'You may spare yourself the trouble of talking, 
 John, my boy. I could tell in a moment if you had 
 a bit of vice in you, and I know you have not. But
 
 I40 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 come, my lad : to be serious, what has put this crotchet 
 into your head ?' 
 
 ' Crotchet or no,' said the young man sadly, ' I have 
 for months past been tormented with fears that I have 
 something wrong in the head — incipient insanity, or 
 idiocy, if you like to call it so.' 
 
 * I don't like to call it anything of the kind, John 
 Huish,' said the doctor tartly, ^ because it's all non- 
 sense. I have not studied insanity for the last five- 
 and-twenty years without knowing something about 
 it; so you may dismiss that idea from your mind. 
 But come, let's know something more about this 
 terrible bugbear.' 
 
 * Bugbear if you like, doctor, but here is the case. 
 Every now and then I have people — friends, ac- 
 quaintances — reminding me of things I have pro- 
 mised — engagements I have made — and which I have 
 not kept.' 
 
 * What sort of engagements T said the doctor. 
 
 * Well, generally about little bets, or games at cards.' 
 ' That you owe money on V 
 
 ' Yes,' said Huish eagerly. ^ I have again and 
 again been asked for money that I owe.'
 
 DR. STOXOR'S PATIENT. 141 
 
 ' Or are said to owe,' said the doctor drily. 
 
 ' Oh, there is no doubt about it,' said Huish. 
 ' About a twelvemonth ago, when this sort of thing 
 began ' 
 
 ' What sort of thing ?' said the doctor. 
 
 * These lapses of memory,' replied Huish. 
 
 ' Oh !' 
 
 ' I used to be annoyed, and denied them, till I began 
 to be scouted by the men I knew ; and at last one 
 or two of them brought unimpeachable witnesses to 
 prove that I was in the wrong.' 
 
 ' Oh, John Huish, my dear boy, how can you let 
 yourself be imposed upon so easily 1' 
 
 ' There is no imposition, I assure you. I give you 
 the facts.' 
 
 ' Facts ! Did you ever know anyone come and tell 
 you that he owed you money, and pay you ?' 
 
 'Yes, half a dozen times over — heavier amounts 
 than I have had to pay.' 
 
 ' Humph ! that's strange,' said the doctor, looking 
 curiously at his visitor. 
 
 ' Strange ? — it's fearful I' cried the young man 
 passionately. ' It is getting to be a curse to me.
 
 142 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 and I cannot shake off the horrible feeling that I 
 am losing my mind — that I am going wrong. And 
 if this be the case, I cannot bear it, especially just 
 now, when ' 
 
 He checked himself, and gazed piteously at the 
 man to whom he had come for help. 
 
 ' Be cool, boy. Supposing it is as you say, it is 
 only a trifle, perhaps ; but it seems to me that there 
 is a great deal of imagination in it/ 
 
 ' Oh no — oh no ! I fear I am going, slowly but 
 surely, out of my mind.' 
 
 ' Because you forget things after a certain time, eh } 
 Stuff! Don't be foolish. Why, you never used to 
 think that your brain was going wrong when you 
 were a schoolboy, and every word of the lesson that 
 you knew perfectly and said verbathn to a school- 
 fellow dropped out of your mind.^ 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Of course you did not ; and as to going mad, why, 
 my dear boy, have you any idea what a lunatic is ?' 
 
 ' I cannot say that I have.' 
 
 ' Well, then, you shall have,' said the doctor ; ' and 
 that will do you more good than all my talking. You
 
 DR. STOXOKS P ATI EXT. 143 
 
 shall see for yourself what a diseased mind really is, 
 and that will strengthen you mentally, and show you 
 how ill-advised are your fancies.' 
 
 ' But, doctor, I should not like to be a witness of 
 the sufferings of others.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, my boy. There, pray don't imagine, 
 because I live at Highgate, and am licensed to have 
 so many insane patients under my care, that you are 
 going to see horrible creatures dressed in straw and 
 grovelling in cells. My dear John, I am going to ask 
 you to a mad dinner-party.' 
 
 "A mad dinner-party.''^ 
 
 ' Well, there, to come and dine with my sister, 
 myself, and our patients. No people hung in chains 
 or straw. Perfectly quiet gentlemen, my dear fellow, 
 but each troubled with a craze. You would not 
 know that they had anything wrong if they did not 
 break out now and then upon the particular subject. 
 Come to-night at seven sharp.' 
 
 The doctor glanced at his watch, rose, and held 
 out his hand ; and though John Huish hesitated, the 
 doctor's eyes seemed to force him to say that he 
 would be there, and he began to feel for his purse.
 
 144 ^ DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Look here, sir,' said the doctor, stopping him : * if 
 you are feeling for fees, don't insult your father's old 
 friend by trying to offer him one. There, till seven 
 — say half-past six — and I'll give you a glass of 
 burgundy, my boy, that shall make you forget all 
 these imaginations.' 
 
 ' Thank you, doctor ' 
 
 * Not another word, sir, but mi revoirj 
 
 ' AtL revoir', said Huish ; and he was shown out, to 
 go back to his chambers thinking about his ailment 
 — and Gertrude, while the doctor began to muse. 
 
 ' Strange that I should take so much interest in 
 that boy. Heigho ! Some years now since I went 
 fly-fishing, and fished his father out of the pit.'
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AUXT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 
 
 ' Will you speak, Isabella, or shall I ?' 
 
 ' If you please, Philippa, will you ?' said her sister 
 with frigid politeness. 
 
 The Honourable Miss Dymcox motioned to her 
 nieces to seat themselves, and they sat down. 
 
 Then there was a sharp premonitory * Hem !' and 
 a long pause, during which the thoughts of the young 
 ladies went astray. 
 
 ' I wonder what that officer^s name is,' thought 
 Clotilde/and whether that good-looking boy is his 
 squire ?' 
 
 Rather a romantic notion this, by the way, and it 
 gave Marcus Glen in the }"Oung lady's ideas the 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 position of knight ; but it was excusable, for her life 
 had been secluded in the extreme. 
 
 * What a very handsome man that dark officer was 
 that we nearly met ! but I don't like his looks,' mused 
 Marie ; and then, as Ruth was thinking that she would 
 rather be getting on with some of the needlework that 
 fell to her share than listening to her aunt's lecture — 
 one of the periodical discourses it was their fate to 
 hear — there was another sharp * Hem !' 
 
 'Marriage,' said the Honourable Miss Dymcox, 'is 
 an institution that has existed from the earliest ages 
 of the world.' 
 
 Had a bomb-shell suddenly fallen into the chilly, 
 meanly-furnished drawing-room, where every second 
 article seemed to wear a brown-holland pinafore, and 
 the frame of the old-fashioned mirror was tightly 
 draped in yellow canvas, the young ladies could not 
 have looked more astonished. 
 
 In their virgin innocency the word 'marriage' had 
 been tabooed to them, and consequently was never 
 mentioned, being a subject held to be unholy for the 
 young people's ears. 
 
 Certainly there were times when the wedding of
 
 A i\\ T PHILIPPA ON MA TRIMONY. 147 
 
 some lady they knew was canvassed ; but it was with 
 extreme delicacy, and not in the downright fashion 
 of Miss Philippa's present speech. 
 
 'Ages of the world,' assented the Honourable 
 Isabella, opening a pale drab fan, and using it gently, 
 as if the subject made her warm. 
 
 'And,' continued Miss Philippa^ 'I think it right to 
 speak to \-ou children, now that you are verging upon 
 womanhood, because it is possible that some day or 
 another you might either of you receive a proposal' 
 
 'That sun-browned officer with the heavy moustache,' 
 thought Clotilde, whose cheeks began to glow. ' She 
 thinks he may try to be introduced. Oh, I wish he 
 may !' 
 
 ' When your poor — I say it with tears, Isabella.' 
 
 'Yes, sister, with tears,' assented that lady. 
 
 ' I am addressing \-ou, Clotilde and Marie,' continued 
 Miss Philippa. 'You, Ruth, of course cannot be 
 answerable for the stroke of fate which placed you in 
 our hands, an adopted child.' 
 
 ' An adopted child,' said Miss Isabella, closing her 
 fan, for the moral atmosphere seemed cooler. 
 
 ' \\ hen your poor mother, your poor, weak mamma, 
 
 ic — 2
 
 143 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 children, wantonly and recklessly, and In opposition 
 to the wishes of all her relatives, insisted upon marry- 
 ing Mr. Julian Riversley, who was never even acknow- 
 ledged by any member of our family ' 
 
 ' I remember papa as being very handsome, and 
 with dark hair,' said Marie. 
 
 * Marie !' exclaimed the Honourable Misses Dymcox 
 in a breath. ' I am surprised at you !' 
 
 * Pray be silent, child,' added Miss Philippa. 
 *Yes, aunt.'' 
 
 * I say your poor mamma must have known that 
 she was degrading the whole family — degrading us, 
 Isabella.' 
 
 * Yes, sister, degrading us,' assented that lady. 
 
 ' By marrying a penniless man of absolutely no 
 birth.' 
 
 ' Whatever,' assented Miss Isabella. 
 
 'As I have often told you, children, it was during 
 the corrupting times of the Commonwealth that the 
 lineal descendants of Sir Guy Dymcoques— the .$■ not 
 sounded, my dears — allowed the family name to be 
 altered into Dymcox, which by letters patent was 
 made imperative, and the proper patronymic has
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 149 
 
 never been restored to its primitive orthography. It 
 is a blot on our family history to which I will no more 
 allude.' 
 
 Miss Isabella allowed the fan to fall into her lap, 
 and accentuated the hoUowness of her thin cheek by 
 pressing it in with one pointed finger. 
 
 'To resume,' said Miss Philippa, while her nieces 
 watched her with wondering eyes : * our dear sister 
 Delia, your poor mamma, repented bitterly for her 
 weakness in marrying a poor man — your papa, 
 children — and being taken away to a dreary place in 
 Central France, where your papa had the manage- 
 ment of a very leaden silver-mine, which only produced 
 poverty. The sufferings to which Mr. Julian Riversley 
 exposed your poor mamma were dreadful, my dears. 
 And,' continued Miss Philippa, dotting each eye with 
 her handkerchief, which was not moistened, ' your poor 
 mamma died. She was killed, I might say, by the 
 treatment of your papa ; but " De mortuis," Isa- 
 bella ?' 
 
 ' " Nil nisi bonum," ' sighed the Honourable Isabella. 
 
 'Exactly, sister,' continued the Honourable Philippa 
 
 — 'died like several of your unfortunate baby brothers
 
 I50 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 and sisters, my dears ; and shortly after — four years 
 exactly^ was it not, Isabella ?' 
 
 ' Three years and eleven months, sister.' 
 
 * Thank you, Isabella. Mr. Julian Riversley either 
 fell down that lead-mine or threw himself there in 
 remorse for having deluded a female scion of the 
 ancient house of Dymcoques to follow his fortunes 
 into a far-off land. He was much like you in 
 physique, my dears, but I am glad to say not in 
 disposition — thanks to our training and that of your 
 mamma's spiritual instructor, Mr. Paul Montaigne, to 
 whom dearest Delia entrusted you, and to whom your 
 repentant — I hope — papa gave the sacred charge of 
 bringing you to England to share the calmness of our 
 peaceful home.' 
 
 ' Peaceful home,' assented Miss Isabella. 
 
 ' I need hardly tell you, children, that the Riversleys 
 were, or are, nobodies of whom we know nothing — 
 never can know anything.^ 
 
 'Whatever,' assented Miss Isabella. 
 
 ' To us they do not exist — neither wnll they for you, 
 my dears. We believe that Mr. Julian had a sister 
 who married a Mr. Huish ; that is all we know.'
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 151 
 
 * All we know,' assented Miss Isabella. 
 
 'I will say nothing of the tax it has been upon us 
 in connection with our limited income. A grateful 
 country, recognising the services of papa, placed these 
 apartments at our disposal. In consideration of the 
 thoughtfulness of the offer, we accepted these apart- 
 ments — thirty-five years ago, 1 think, Isabella ?' 
 
 * Thirty-five years and a half, sister.' 
 
 ' Exactly ; and we have been here ever since, so 
 that we have been spared the unpleasantry of paying 
 a rent. But I need not continue that branch of my 
 subject. What I wish to impress upon you, children, 
 is the fact that in spite of your poor mamma's 
 vtesalliance, you are of the family of Dymcoques, and 
 that it is your duty to endeavour to raise, and not 
 degrade, our noble house. I think I am following 
 out the proper line of argument, Isabella ?' 
 
 * Most accurately, sister.' 
 
 'In the event, then, of either of you — at a future 
 time, of course — receiving a proposal of marriage ' 
 
 Miss Isabella reopened her fan, and began to use it 
 in a quick, agitated manner. 
 
 * It would be your duty to study the interest of
 
 152 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 your family, children, and to endeavour to regain 
 that which your poor mamma lost. To a lady, 
 marriage ' 
 
 Miss Isabella's fan raised quite a draught in the 
 chilly room, and the white tissue-paper chimney- 
 apron rustled in the breeze. 
 
 ' Marriage is the means by which we may recover 
 the steps lost by those who have gone before ; and I 
 would have you to remember that our position, our 
 family, our claims to a high descent, warrant our 
 demanding as a right that we might mate with the 
 noblest of the land.' 
 
 For a moment a curious idea crossed Clotilde's 
 brain — that her aunts had some thought of entering 
 the married state ; but it passed away on the instant 
 at the next words. 
 
 * Your aunt Isabella and myself might at various 
 times have entered into alliance with others ' 
 
 Miss Isabella's fan went rather slowly now. 
 
 ' But we knew what was due to our family, and we 
 said " No !" We sacrificed ourselves in the cause of 
 duty, and we demand, children, in obedience to our 
 teaching, that you do the same.'
 
 AUXT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 153 
 
 'Yes, aunt,' said Clotilde demurely. 
 
 * An impecunious, poverty-stricken alliance,' con- 
 tinued IMiss Philippa, 'is at best a crime, one of which 
 no true woman would be guilty ; while an alliance 
 that brings to her family wealth and position is one 
 of which she might be proud. You understand, my 
 children ?' 
 
 ' Yes, aunt,' in chorus. 
 
 ' We — your aunt Isabella and I — of course care 
 little for such things ; but we consider that young 
 people of birth and position should, as a matter of 
 duty, look forward to having diamonds, a town house, 
 carriages and servants, pin-money. These are social 
 necessities, children. Plebeians may perhaps consider 
 that they are superfluities, but such democratic 
 notions are the offspring of ignorance. Your grand- 
 father devoted himself to the upholding of Church 
 and State ; he was considered worthy of the trust of 
 the Premier of his day ; and it is our duty, as his 
 descendants, to hold his name in reverence, and to 
 add to its lustre.' 
 
 Marie, as her aunt stopped for breath, wondered 
 in what way her grandfather had benefited his
 
 154 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 country, and could not help wishing that he had done 
 more to benefit his heirs. Then she half wondered 
 that she had ventured to harbour such a thought, and 
 just then Miss Philippa said blandly : 
 
 ' I think that will do, Isabella ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I think that will do,' said that lady, dropping 
 her fan. 
 
 * You may retire to the schoolroom, then, my dears,' 
 continued Miss Philippa. ' Clotilde, come here.' 
 
 The dark girl, with an unusual flush beneath her 
 creamy skin, crossed the room to her aunt, who laid 
 her hands upon her shoulder, gazed wistfully in her 
 eyes, and then kissed her upon either cheek. 
 
 ' Wonderfully like your papa, my child,' she said, 
 and she passed her on to Miss Isabella. * But the 
 Dymcoques' carriage.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes ! wonderfully like your papa,' sighed Miss 
 Isabella, and she, too, kissed Clotilde upon either 
 cheek. ' But the Dymcoques' carriage.' 
 
 ' Marie,' said Miss Philippa, 'come here, child.' 
 
 Marie rose from her chair, crossed to her aunt, 
 received a hand upon each shoulder and a kiss upon 
 either cheek.
 
 A rXT PHILIPPA ON MA TRIMOXY. 1 5 j 
 
 'Yes. your papa's lineaments/ sighed Miss Philippa, 
 passing her on also to Miss Isabella. 
 
 •Wonderfully like indeed,' assented ]\Iiss Isabella 
 sadly. 
 
 ' You may retire now, children,' said ]vliss Philippa. 
 ' YoQ had better resume your practice and studies in 
 the schoolroom. Well, Ruth, why do you not go?' 
 
 Poor Ruth had been expecting a similar proceed- 
 ing towards her, but it did not come about, and she 
 followed her cousins out of the room after each had 
 made a formal curtsey, which was acknowledged by 
 their aunts as if they were sovereigns at a state 
 reception. 
 
 ' It will cost a great deal, Isabella,' said Miss 
 Philippa, as soon as they were gone. 
 
 ' Yes, dear ; but, as Lady Littletown says, it is an 
 absolute necessity; and it is time they left the school- 
 room for a more enlarged sphere.' '^ 
 
 The }-oung ladies went straight to the apartment, 
 where they had passed the greater part of their lives, 
 in company with a green-baize-covered table, a case of 
 unentertaining works of an educational cast, written 
 in that delightfully pompous didactic style considered
 
 156 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 necessary by our grandfathers for the formation of 
 the youthful mind. There were also selections from 
 Steele and Addison, with Johnson to the extent of 
 * Rasselas.' Mangnall was there, side by side with 
 Goldsmith, and a goodly array of those speckled- 
 covered school books that used to have such a 
 peculiar smell of size. On a side-table covered with 
 a washed-out red and gray tablecover of that charm- 
 ing draughtboard pattern and cotton fabric, where 
 the gray was red on the opposite side, and in other 
 squares the reds and grays seemed to have married 
 and had neutral offspring, stood a couple of battered 
 and chipped twelve-inch globes, one of which was 
 supposed to be celestial, and the other terrestrial ; but 
 time and mildew had joined hand in hand to paint 
 these representations of the spheres with entirely fresh 
 designs, till the terrestrial globe was studded with 
 little dark, damp spots or stars of its own, and fun- 
 goid continents had formed themselves on the other 
 amid seas of stain, where nothing but aerial space and 
 constellations should have been. 
 
 Ruth entered the schoolroom last, to cross over to 
 where stood on its thin, decrepit legs the harp of
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 157 
 
 other days, in the shape cf a most unmusical Httle 
 piano, which, when opened, looked like some fossil 
 old-world monster of the toad nature, squeezed square 
 and squatting there in a high-shouldered fashion, 
 gaping wide- mouthed, and showing a row of hideous 
 old yellow teeth, the teeth upon which for many a 
 weary hour the girls had practised the ' Battle of 
 Prague,' ' Herz Quadrilles,' and the overture to ' ]\Iasa- 
 niello,' classical strains that were rather out of tune, 
 and in unwonted guise, consequent upon so many 
 notes being dumb, while what seemed like a row of 
 little imps with round, flat hats performed a kind of 
 excited automatic dance a la Blondin upon the wire 
 in the entrails of the fossil toad. 
 
 As Ruth crossed and stood leaning with one hand 
 upon the old piano, with her eyelids drooping, and 
 the great tears gathering slowly beneath the heavily- 
 fringed lids, a deep sigh struggled for exit. It was 
 not much to have missed that cold display of some- 
 thing like affection just shown by the ladies to her 
 cousins ; but she felt the neglect most sorely, for her 
 tender young heart was hungry for love, and all these 
 many sad years that she had passed in the cheerless
 
 1 58 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 schoolroom, whose one window looked out upon the 
 dismal fountain in the gloomy court, she had known 
 so little of what real affection meant. 
 
 If she could only have received one word of sym- 
 pathy just then she would have been relieved, but she 
 was roused from her sad reverie by a sharp pat upon 
 the cheek from Clotilde. 
 
 'Tears? Why, you're jealous! Here, Rie, the 
 stupid thing is crying because she was not kissed.' 
 
 * Goose !* exclaimed Marie. * She missed a deal ! 
 Ugh ! It's very horrid.' 
 
 ' Yes,' cried Clotilde. * Bella's teeth-spring squeaked, 
 and I thought Pip meant to bite. Here, Ruthy, come 
 and kiss the places and take off the nasty taste.' 
 
 She held out one of her cheeks, and Ruth, whose 
 face still tingled with the smack she had received, 
 came forward smiling, threw her arms round her 
 cousin, and kissed her cheeks again and again. 
 
 * Ah, I feel sweeter now !' said Clotilde, pushing 
 Ruth away. ' Make her do you, Rie.' 
 
 Marie laughed unpleasantly as, without being 
 asked, Ruth, smiling, crossed to her chair and kissed 
 her affectionately again and again, her bright young
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 159 
 
 face lighting up with almost childish pleasure, for she 
 was of that nature of womankind whose greatest satis- 
 faction is to give rather than receive. 
 
 ' There, that will do, baby,' cried Marie, laughing. 
 ' What a gushing girl you are, Ruth !' but she kissed 
 her in return all the same, with the effect that a couple 
 of tears stole from the girl's eyes. * Mind you don't 
 spoil my lovely dress. Now then, Clo, what does all 
 this mean V 
 
 ' Mean ?' cried her sister, placing one hand upon the 
 table and vaulting upon it in a sitting position. ' It 
 means — here, Ruth, go down on your knees by the 
 door, and keep your ear by the keyhole. If you let 
 that old hyaena IMarkes, or either of those wicked old 
 cats, come and hear what we say, I'll buy a sixpenny 
 packet of pins and come and stick them in all over 
 you when you're in bed.' 
 
 Ruth ran to the door, knelt down, and placed her 
 ear as she was ordered to do, while her cousin went 
 on : 
 
 ' It means that the wicked old things are obliged to 
 own at last that we have grown into women, and they 
 want to get us married. Whoop ! Lucky for them
 
 i6o A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 they do. If they didn't, I'd run away with one of the 
 soldiers. I say, Rie, wasn't that big officer nice?' 
 
 *I don't know,' said her sister pettishly. ' I didn't 
 taste him.' 
 
 ' Who said you did, pig? Diamonds, and carriages, 
 and servants, Rie. I'd have a box at the opera, too, 
 and one at all the theatres. Oh, Rie ! wait till I get 
 my chance. I'll keep up the dignity of the family ; 
 but when my turn does come, oh ! won't I serve those 
 two old creatures out.' 
 
 * Dignity of the family, indeed !' cried Marie angrily. 
 ' How dare they speak like they did of poor dear papa, 
 even if he was a Riversley !* 
 
 ' And the wicked old thing boasting all the time 
 about her Norman descent, and Sir Guyfawkes de 
 Dymcoques. I dare say he was one of the Con- 
 queror's tag-rags, who came to see what he could get.' 
 
 ' I know poor papa was very handsome.' 
 
 ' Just like you, Rie,' laughed Clotilde. 
 
 ' No, he was more like you, Clo,' said her sister 
 quietly. ' I don't see anything to laugh at. Do you 
 suppose I don't know that we are both very beautiful 
 women V
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. i6i 
 
 Clotilde's eyes flashed, and her cheeks began to 
 glow as she saw her sister, in her shabby gingham 
 morning dress, place her hands behind her head, inter- 
 lacing her fingers and leaning sidewise in an attitude 
 full of natural, unstudied grace. She looked down at 
 kneeling Ruth. 
 
 ' We are both handsome girls now, aren't we, Ruth ?' 
 she said imperiously. 
 
 ' Yes, dear, very — very,' said the girl, flushing as she 
 spoke. '■ I think you lovely with your beautiful dark 
 eyes, and soft, warm complexions ; and you both 
 have such splendid figures and magnificent hair.' 
 
 Marie's eyes half closed in a dreamy way, as if 
 some dawning love fancy were there, and an arch 
 smile curled her rich red lip. 
 
 She was quite satisfied, and accepted the girl's 
 admiration as her due, hardly moving as Clotilde 
 bounded from the table to the door, listened for a 
 moment, and then, seizing Ruth by the pink, shelly 
 little ear, half dragged her into the room. Her hot 
 blood showed in her vindictive, fierce way, as she 
 stood threateningly over the kneeling girl. 
 
 'Lying little pig,' she hissed, 'how dare you say 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 t62 a double knot. 
 
 such things ! It's your mean-spirited, cringing, favour- 
 currying way. You think we are both as ugly as 
 sin.' 
 
 ' I don't indeed, indeed I don't !' cried the girl, stung 
 by the charge into indignant remonstrance. ' I think 
 you are both the most beautiful girls I ever saw. Oh, 
 Clotilde ! you know what lovely eyes and hair you have.' 
 
 ' I haven't ; my eyes are dark and my hair is long 
 and coarse.' 
 
 ' It's beautiful !' cried Ruth, * isn't it, Marie ? Why, 
 see how everyone turns to look at you both when you 
 are out, in spite of your being so badly dressed.' 
 
 ' Go back to the door. No, stop,' cried Clotilde, 
 pushing the poor girl's head to and fro as she retained 
 her ear. 
 
 ' Clotilde dear, you hurt rne very much,' sobbed Ruth. 
 
 ' I'm trying to hurt you,' said Clotilde, showing her 
 white glistening teeth. 
 
 ' Let her be, Clo.' 
 
 ' Shan't. Mind your own business.' 
 
 ' Let her be, I say,' cried Marie, flashing into excite- 
 ment. ' If you don^t loose her I'll scratch you.' 
 
 ' You daren't,' cried Clotilde, and as her sister's face
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 163 
 
 turned red her own grew pale. ' Go back to the door 
 and listen, little fibster.' 
 
 ' I dare,' said Marie, relapsing into her half-dreamy 
 way. ' Come here, Ruthy ; I won't have you hurt. 
 It's truth, isn't it ? We are beautiful T 
 
 'Yes,' said Ruth, starting to her feet, and joyfully 
 nestling in the arms held out for her, while Marie 
 kissed her with some show of affection. ' Yes, you are 
 both beautiful, and Clotilde knows I would not tell her 
 a story.' 
 
 The gratified look had spread by this time to the 
 elder sister's face, and she returned to her position upon 
 the table, where she sat swinging one leg to and fro. 
 
 ' Go back and listen, Ruthy,' said Marie quietly. 
 ' You are quite right, dear — we are both handsome ; 
 and so are you.' 
 
 ' I ?' laughed Ruth, with a merry, innocent look 
 brightening her face ; ' oh no !' 
 
 ' Yes, you are,' said Marie, smoothing her own 
 dark hair. ' You are very nice, and pretty, and 
 sweet, and when I'm married and away from this 
 wicked old poverty-stricken workhouse, you shall come 
 and live with me.' 
 
 II — 2
 
 i64 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 'Shall I, Marie?' cried the girl, with the eagerness of 
 a child. 
 
 * Yes, dear ; and you shall have a handsome husband 
 of your own.' 
 
 Ruth laughed merrily. 
 
 ' What should I do with a husband ?' 
 
 ' Hold your tongue, Rie, and don't stuff the child's 
 head with such nonsense,' 
 
 ' Child, indeed ! why, she is only a year younger 
 than I. Oh ! it has been abominable ; we have been 
 treated like babies, and I feel sometimes now as if I 
 were only a little girl. But only wait.' 
 
 ' Yes,' cried Clotilde with a curious laugh, 'only wait.' 
 
 '■ Someone coming,' whispered Ruth, leaping up from 
 the floor where she had been listening, and the child- 
 like obedience to the stern authority in which they had 
 been trained resumed its sway. 
 
 Clotilde bounded to the piano, and began to practise 
 a singing lesson, her rich contralto voice rising and 
 falling as she ran up an arpeggio, trying to make it 
 accord with five notes struck together out of tune ; 
 Marie darted to a chair, and snatched up a quill pen, 
 inked her forefinger, and bent over a partly written
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 165 
 
 exercise on composition — a letter addressed to a lady 
 of title, to be written in the style of Steele ; and Ruth 
 snatched up a piece of needlework, and began to 
 sew. Then the door opened, and Markes, the nurse, 
 appeared. 
 
 'Miss Clotilde and Miss Marie to come to the dining- 
 room directly.' 
 
 * What for, Markes ?' cried Clotilde, pausing in the 
 middle of a rich-toned run full of delicious melody. 
 
 'Come and see. There, I'll tell you — may as well, 
 I suppose. Dressmaker to measure you for some new 
 frocks.' 
 
 ' La — ra — ra — ra — ra — ra — ra — rah !' sang Clotilde 
 in a powerful crescendo, as she swung round upon the 
 music-stool and then leaped up, while Marie rose 
 slowly, with a quiet, natural grace. 
 
 * Am — am I to come, too V said Ruth. 
 
 ' You } No. It's them,' said Markes grimly. ' Fine 
 goings on, 'pon my word.' 
 
 ' What are fine goings on, Markes ?' cried 
 Clotilde. 
 
 'Why, ordering new dresses. Better buy a new 
 carpet for one of the bedrooms, and spend a little more
 
 i66 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 money on the living. I'm getting sick of the pinching 
 and griping ways.' 
 
 ' I say, Markes, what's for dinner to-day ?' exclaimed 
 Marie, on finding the woman in a more communica- 
 tive mood than usual. 
 
 ' Cold boiled mutton.' 
 
 * Ugh !' ejaculated Clotilde. ' I hate cold mutton. 
 Is there no pudding ?' 
 
 ^ Yes ; it's pudding day.' 
 
 ' That's better. What pudding is it ?' 
 
 Markes shook her head. 
 
 ' Tell me, and I'll give you a kiss,' said Clotilde. 
 
 * If your aunts was to hear you talk like that 
 they'd have fits,' grumbled the woman. * It's rice- 
 pudding.' 
 
 ' Baked .?' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Boiled in milk .?' 
 
 ' No — plain boiled.' 
 
 '■ Sauce or jam with it ?' 
 
 '■ Sauce or jam !' said the woman, in tones of 
 disgust. 'Neither on 'em, but sugar and a bit o' 
 butter ; and think yourselves lucky to get that. New
 
 AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 167 
 
 dresses, indeed ! It's shameful ; and us in the kitchen 
 half starved 1' 
 
 * Well, we can't help it,' said Marie. ' I'm sure we 
 don^t live any too well.' 
 
 * No, you don't,' said the woman, grinning. ' But 
 it does seem a shame to go spending money as they 
 seem to mean to do on you two. I 'spose you're 
 going to be married, ain't you V 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Clotilde. ' Are we i*' 
 
 ' There, don't ask me. I don't know nothing at all 
 
 about it, and I shan't speak a word. I only know 
 
 what I heard them say.' 
 
 * Do tell us, Marky dear, there^s a dear, good old 
 nursey, and we'll do just as you tell us,' said Clotilde, 
 in a wheedling way. 
 
 * You both make haste down, or you'll both have 
 double lessons to get off, so I tell you.' 
 
 * But tell us,' said Marie, ' and we'll both give you 
 a kiss.' 
 
 ' You keep your kisses for your rich husbands, my 
 dears, and I hope you'll like giving 'em — that's all I 
 can say. I told you so : there goes the bell'
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ECCENTRIC GUESTS. 
 
 * That's right — I adore punctuality,' said Dr. Stonor, 
 as John Huish was ushered into the drawing-room of 
 Laurel Hall. For, having mastered the repugnance 
 which had made him feel disposed to send a message 
 to put off his visit, he had chartered a hansom, and 
 run up to the doctor's house. 
 
 There was nothing new about it externally, for it 
 was one of those old red-brick buildings that our 
 ancestors knew so well how to contrive, and which 
 they always surrounded with iron railings with great 
 gates about double their height. This was evidently 
 for protection ; but why the gates were made so high 
 and the railings so low has never been yet found out. 
 
 So John Huish rang and was admitted, starting
 
 ECCENTRIC GUESTS. 169 
 
 slightly on finding himself face to face with Daniel ; 
 but as that individual acted as if they had never met 
 before, and asked him his name, the visitor felt more 
 composed, and entered, and was announced. 
 
 'My sister, Miss Stonor,' said the doctor. ' Selina, 
 my dear, this is one of my oldest patients. I pre- 
 scribed for him for infantile colic when he was a 
 month old, and lanced his gums at six.' 
 
 John Huish found himself face to face with a thin, 
 prim little lady in tightly-fitting black silk with white 
 collar and cuffs. She was rather pale, had perfectly 
 gray hair in smooth bands, and looked mild and wistful, 
 but she saluted their guest with a quiet smile, and then 
 he was led off to be introduced to the others present. 
 
 * This is Captain Lawdor, Mr. Rawlinson, Mr. 
 Roberts,' continued the doctor. * My old friend John 
 Huish.' And he introduced Huish in turn to a rather 
 bluff-looking, florid man with gray whiskers ; a heavy, 
 stern and stubborn looking man with iron-gray hair 
 and a closely-trimmed beard ; and a slight, delicate 
 man with rather a sad expression, which, however, lit 
 up with a genial smile. 
 
 John Huish was very soon engaged with Captain
 
 I70 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 Lawdor on the question of yachting, and found his 
 new acquaintance somewhat of an enthusiast upon 
 the build and rig of sea-going boats, his preference 
 being for the yawl. But, all the same, he found time 
 to exchange a few words with the thin, pensive- 
 looking Mr. Roberts, who chatted about the politics 
 of the hour, and with Mr. Rawlinson, whose speech 
 quite carried out the stubborn appearance of his 
 knotty forehead and short iron-gray hair. He was 
 very indignant about a railway accident mentioned 
 in the daily paper, and gave it as his opinion that 
 there would be no safety until heavy penalties were 
 inflicted upon the companies, or else until the lines 
 were in the hands of the Government. 
 
 Then Daniel came in and announced dinner, and 
 Mr. Roberts taking down Miss Stonor, Huish found 
 himself with the doctor. 
 
 ' Patients not well enough to show up, doctor i*' 
 he said quietly, as they went towards the dining- 
 room. 
 
 * Eh V 
 
 ' I said, " Patients not well enough to show up i*" ' 
 
 'Hist! Don't mention them,' said the doctor;
 
 ECCENTRIC GLESTS. 171 
 
 and Huish gave a sigh of relief as he thought how 
 much better the dinner would pass off without such 
 company. 
 
 A minute later and they were seated at table^ John 
 Huish on the doctor's right, and the captain on his 
 right again. The stubborn, heavy man was upon 
 Miss Stonor's right, and the pensive-looking man 
 facing Huish. Grace was said, the cover of the soup- 
 tureen was lifted with a flourish by Daniel, and Miss 
 Stonor ladled out the clear hrownjulieiine, half hidden 
 herself behind the tureen, till all were helped but 
 Mr. Rawlinson and the doctor. 
 
 ]\Ir. Rawlinson passed his hands through his iron- 
 gray hair, and smiled as he watched the ladle go 
 down into the steaming fluid and come up again to 
 be emptied into the plate held by Daniel. 
 
 'And so, Rawlinson, you would heavily fine the 
 companies V said the doctor. 
 
 'Indeed I would/ was the reply. 'Would you 
 mind, ^liss Stonor,' he continued insinuatingly, 'half 
 a ladleful more ^ Delicious soup. Thanks.' 
 
 Miss Stonor smiled, and the soup was placed before 
 him, when^ to the amazement of Huish, l\Ir. Rawlin-
 
 172 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 son sent his chair back with a quick motion, deftly 
 lifted the soup-plate on to the Turkey carpet, and, as 
 if it were a footpan, composedly placed the toes of 
 his patent-leather shoes therein. 
 
 Miss Stonor did not move a muscle— she misrht 
 have been a disciple of Daniel ; while the doctor said 
 quietly : ' Head hot, Rawlinson ?' 
 
 'Yes, very,' was the reply, as the eccentric guest 
 smiled and nodded. 
 
 ' I'd go and lie down for an hour,' said the doctor 
 gently. 
 
 'Would you — would you?' said Mr. Rawlinson, 
 smiling pleasantly. ' Well, I will.' 
 
 'Come and join us presently if you feel better,' said 
 the doctor. 
 
 'Certainly I will,' said Mr. Rawlinson. 'Miss 
 Stonor, you'll excuse me ?' 
 
 Miss Stonor bowed, and he turned upon Daniel. 
 
 'A napkin, Daniel,' he said rather severely. 'I 
 cannot leave the room with my shoes in this state.' 
 
 He lifted his feet from the soup-plate as he spoke, 
 and sat with his legs at right angles to his body, 
 while in the most matter-of-fact way Daniel stooped
 
 ECCENTRIC GUESTS. 173 
 
 down, wiped the patent-leather shoes, and, sticking 
 his thumbs into his arnnholes, Mr. Rawlinson calmly- 
 left the room. 
 
 ' Suppose you ease off a little to the left, Roberts/ 
 said the doctor, as the soup-plate was removed. 
 * Rawlinson Vv'ill not be back to dinner.' 
 
 * No,' said the captain, smiling. 'Poor fellow!^ he 
 continued, turning to Haish; 'you would not have 
 thought he was a little wrong, I suppose ?' 
 
 •Indeed I should not,' said Huish eagerly. 
 
 'No,' said the captain. ' He looks as sane as I am ; 
 but he breaks out now and then, poor fellow 1' 
 
 Just then Daniel was helping the guests to sherry, 
 and Huish noticed that the captain's glass was passed. 
 
 It seemed strange, but the conversation took off 
 his attention, and he thought no more of it till Daniel 
 set down the decanter, when, picking up the little 
 round roll that lay by his napkin^ the captain 
 threw it with so good an aim that he hit the solid 
 servitor a smart crack on the back of the head. 
 
 ' Now, Captain Lawdor,' said Miss Stonor, in tones 
 of bland reproof, ' have I not told you that if you will 
 persist in doing that you must not dine with us V
 
 174 ^ DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Hush ! hush !' he whispered apologetically. ' Don't 
 scold me before the company. Poor fellow ! I don't 
 like to see a new patient upset. That fellow always 
 passes me with the sherry.' 
 
 John Huish's countenance was so ludicrous at 
 being taken for a new patient that the doctor 
 exchanged glances with his sister, and it was all they 
 could do to keep from bursting into a hearty fit of 
 laughter. The doctor, however, suppressed his, and 
 said quietly : 
 
 ' My sister is quite right, Lawdor, and you must 
 get rid of that habit.' 
 
 The captain drew out his pocket-handkerchief, 
 shed tears, wiped his eyes, and ended by taking out a 
 half-crown, which he slipped into Daniel's hand as he 
 removed his empty plate. 
 
 John Huish felt a little disturbed as he saw the 
 real state of affairs, but he tried to appear at his ease, 
 and plunged into conversation with Miss Stonor, not, 
 however, before he had directed an uneasy glance or 
 two at his quiet, pensive companion across the table, 
 who, however, was carrying on a discussion with the 
 doctor.
 
 ECCENTRIC GUEST. 175 
 
 Huish could not help thinking of the knives as the 
 captain turned to him with a pleasant smile lighting 
 up his ruddy face, from which all trace of sorrow had 
 now passed. 
 
 ' That's a nasty trick,' he said ; ' but I never knew a 
 man without some bad habit or another. I could hit 
 him, though, with a biscuit at fifty paces.' 
 
 * Indeed,' said Huish. 
 
 ' Yes, that I could. If I've hit Daniel once, I've 
 done it a hundred times. But we were talking about 
 yachting. Now, I've got a plan for a ship which I 
 have submitted to the Admiralty.' 
 
 * Oh,' said Huish to himself, ' here, then, is the sore 
 place.' Then aloud, ' Indeed !' 
 
 * Yes ; a splendid idea. But, by the way, you 
 know how fond we sailors are of talking about pitch- 
 ing a biscuit V 
 
 ' To be sure,' said Huish. 
 
 ' Excuse me a few moments. A sailor always eats 
 when he has a chance. May be called on deck at 
 any moment. Would you oblige me V said the 
 captain suddenly to Huish. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, certainly,' said Huish ; and,
 
 176 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 partly from habit, he placed his glass in his eye and 
 brought it to bear on the speaker. 
 
 •This is rather a good story — eh, doctor?* 
 
 'Yes. Go on, Captain Lawdor/ 
 
 ' Well, you see, I had been communicating with 
 the Admiralty for six years about my invention 
 when — would you oblige me by taking that 
 glass out of your eye?' said the captain, break- 
 ing off short in his narrative. ' It irritates me, 
 and makes me feel as if I must throw something at 
 it' 
 
 John Huish's eyeglass dropped inside his vest, 
 while, in spite of all his efforts to master his emotions, 
 he glanced uneasily at the door. 
 
 ' But you would not do anything so rude,, Lawdor,' 
 said the doctor gravely, as he fixed his eye upon the 
 captain. 
 
 'Thank you, doctor. No ; of course I would not. 
 I should be extremely sorry to insult a patient of 
 yours.' 
 
 Huish began to feel for his glass, but remembered 
 himself, and listened eagerly to the captain, while 
 Mr. Roberts seemed to have sunk into a pensive,
 
 ECCENTRIC GUESTS. 177 
 
 thoughtful state, paying no heed to what was going 
 on at the table. 
 
 * If I had danced attendance in Whitehall once,' 
 said Captain Lawdor, ' I had hung about that 
 entrance a thousand times, and it was fill up forms, 
 make minutes, present petitions to my Lords, address 
 this department and come back to that, till it nearly 
 drove me — till,' he added hastily, ' I was very wroth 
 with them, and one day — let me see, I think I told 
 you,' he continued, rolling up a piece of new bread 
 into a marble, 'that I was an excellent shot with a 
 biscuit ?' and he stared hard at Huish. 
 
 ' Yes, you did/ said Huish, smiling. 
 ' Don't laugh, sir,' exclaimed the captain. ' This is 
 not a ribald jest.' 
 
 * Breakers ahead, captain,' said the doctor, holding 
 his glass to be refilled. 
 
 * To be sure, of course, doctor. Wear ship — you 
 are listening, sir ?' 
 
 'With the greatest attention/ replied Huish, who 
 was becoming reconciled to his position. 
 
 ' Well, sir, one day I went with my pockets filled 
 with the roundest, smallest, and hardest ships' 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 biscuits I could procure, and — you are not attending, 
 Roberts,' he exclaimed, filliping the bread marble at 
 John Huish's vis-d-vis, who bowed and smiled. 
 
 * Well, sir, as I told you, I went loaded with the 
 biscuits, and marched straight into a board room, or 
 a committee room, or something of the kind, and 
 there I stormed them for quite ten minutes before 
 they got me out. Ha, ha, ha! I emptied my 
 pockets first, and the way I rattled the biscuits on 
 one bald-headed fellow's pate was something to 
 remember. I did not miss him once, Mr. Huish,' he 
 said, turning sharply round. 
 
 'Indeed?' he said, smiling. 
 
 'In^ — deed, in — deed,' said the captain. * It was 
 such a head ! He was one of those youngish men 
 whose heads are so aggravatingly white and smooth 
 and shiny that they do not look bald, but perfectly 
 naked. He was a Junior Lord of the Admiralty, and 
 I declare to you, sir, that his head was perfectly 
 indecent till I coloured it a little with the biscuits.' 
 
 *Yes, an amusing story,' said the doctor, as the 
 dinner went on. * Come, Roberts, you are very quiet. 
 Have a glass of that dry champagne V
 
 ECCENTRIC GUESTS. 179 
 
 ' And once again I see that brow/ said Mr. 
 Roberts in a low, soft, sweet voice : ' no bridal wreath 
 is there, a widow's sombre cap conceals — thank you, 
 doctor,' he continued, sighing as he altered the 
 position of the glass. 
 
 The dinner passed off without any further incident, 
 save that Mr. Rawlinson returned looking very quiet 
 and calm, and in time for the second course, of which 
 he partook heartily, rising after the dessert to open 
 the door for Miss Stonor to leave the room, and all 
 in the most natural manner. 
 
 * Suppose we go into my room a bit now,' said the 
 doctor. ' We can have a cigar there ;' and Daniel 
 entering at that moment with coffee, it was taken 
 into the doctor's sanctum, the patients following the 
 tray, the doctor hanging back with his principal 
 guest. 
 
 * Well, my dear John, do you think you are going 
 mad now V 
 
 ' Xo;' was the quick reply. 
 
 * Of course not. You see now what even a mild 
 form of mania is.' 
 
 ' I do,' was the reply. ' But look here, doctor,' said 
 
 12 — 2
 
 i8o A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Huish earnestly ; * this feeling has troubled me 
 terribly just lately.' 
 
 'And why?' said the doctor sharply, for Huish 
 hesitated. 
 
 ' Well, the fact is, doctor, it is possible that I may 
 marry some day, and I felt ' 
 
 'Yes, of course, I know,' said the doctor ; 'you felt, 
 and quite rightly, that it would be a crime to marry 
 some sweet young girl if you had the seeds of insanity 
 waiting to develop themselves in your brain.' 
 
 ' Yes, doctor, that was it.' 
 
 ' My dear John Huish, you are a bit of a favourite 
 of mine, and I like you much.* 
 
 ' Thank you, doctor, I ' 
 
 ' I made the acquaintance of your father and 
 mother in a peculiar manner, and they have always 
 trusted me since.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I have heard something of it from it my 
 father, but ' 
 
 'Just hold your tongue and listen to me, sir. You 
 have, I am sure, chosen some sweet, gentle, good girl ; 
 nothing else would suit you. So all 1 have to say is 
 this : your brain is as right as that q{ any man living.
 
 ECCENTRIC GUESTS. i8i 
 
 Marry her, and the sooner the better. I like these 
 young marriages, and hang all those musty old fogies 
 who preach about improvidence and so many hundreds 
 a year ! Marry early, while you and the woman you 
 love are in the first flush of your youth and vigour. 
 It's nature — it's holy — and the good God smiles upon 
 it. Damn it all, sir ! it makes me savage to see a 
 wretched, battered old fellow being chosen by a 
 scheming mother of the present day as a husband for 
 her child. Money and title will not compensate for 
 youth. It's a wrong system, John Huish, a wrong 
 system. I'm a doctor, and I ought to know. Marry, 
 then, my dear boy, as soon as you like, and God bless 
 you !' 
 
 'Thank you, doctor, thank you,' said Huish, smiling. 
 ' But I say, doctor, if it is not impertinence, why didn't 
 you marry young V 
 
 ' Because I was a fool. I wanted to make money 
 and a name in my profession, and did not calculate 
 what would be the cost. They cost me thirty years, 
 John Huish, and now I am an old fogey, content to 
 try and do some good among my poor patients. But 
 come away ; they will think me rude. Eh, going
 
 i82 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 now ? Well, I will not say stop, as you have so far 
 to go back. One more word : think your head's 
 screwed on right now ?' 
 
 ' Yes, doctor.' 
 
 ' So do I. If it ever goes wrong, come to me, and 
 I'll turn it back.' 
 
 But John Huish did not feel quite satisfied, all the 
 same.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN BORROWED PLUMES. 
 
 There was a good deal of excitement in the Hampton 
 Court dovecote, and a general touching up of plumage, 
 for Lady Littletown, who resided at Hampton, so as 
 to be near her dear old friend Lady Anna Maria 
 Morton, who had rooms up a narrow dingy stone 
 staircase in the corner of a cloistered court, in the 
 private apartments at the Palace, had sent out cards 
 for her dinner-party and ' at home.' 
 
 Lady Littletown was rich, and her position in the 
 society of the neighbourhood was that of queen. A 
 widow for many years, she was always thinking of 
 marriage. Not for herself. She had been through 
 the fire, and found it hot. In fact, she bore her 
 mental scars to her elderly age, for it was a well-
 
 1 84 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 known fact that the late Viscount Littletown was the 
 extreme opposite of an angel. He had possessed a 
 temper which grew and blossomed in wild luxuriance, 
 and the probabilities are that he inoculated her lady- 
 ship with this peculiarity of spirit, for more than one 
 of her domestics had been known to have declared that 
 they would not live with the 'old devil ' any longer. 
 
 This was very wicked, and the domestic young 
 ladies who had made use of such expressions were 
 much to be censured. But certain it was that the 
 Viscountess was far from perfect, and that she was an 
 inveterate match-maker. 
 
 Probably she was of opinion that it would be a 
 pleasant little piece of revenge on human nature to 
 inveigle as many of her sex as possible on to the 
 stormy sea of matrimony. At all events, a good 
 many fashionable marriages resulted from plans laid 
 by her ladyship and her female friends. 
 
 Lady Littletown's friends were many, and included 
 Lady Millet, whom she always addressed as ' my 
 dear,' in spite of a pique which had arisen consequent 
 upon the latter marrying her eldest daughter to that 
 wealthy /^rz^^;z?/, Mr. Frank Morrison.
 
 IN B ORR O WED PL UMES. 1 8 5 
 
 Now, according to Lady Littletown's code, this was 
 not correct. Dear friends as they had been, Lady 
 Millet should have obtained her help, seeing that 
 marriages were her metier : but she had obstinately 
 gone her own way, invited her to the wedding, and 
 latterly had actually shown that she was scheming 
 something about two gentlemen whom Lady L'ttle- 
 town had marked down for her own — to wit, Lord 
 Henry Moorpark and Mr. Elbraham, the great 
 financier. 
 
 * But, poor thing ! she did not know how to manage 
 Elbraham,' said Lady Littletown to herself; 'and as 
 for dear Lord Henry, not if I know it, dearest. I 
 think I can manage that, and you may marry pink- ^ 
 and-white wax-doll Gertrude to someone else.' 
 
 So her ladyship issued her cards most dis- 
 criminatingly and well, in her determination to let no 
 rival in her circle interfere with her rights as high- 
 priestess of Hymen to her dearest friends. 
 
 Lady Littletown's invitations on this occasion had 
 included the Honourable Misses Dymcox and their 
 nieces Clotilde and Marie Riversley ; and, like 
 Cinderella of the story, Ruth had rather a hard time
 
 i86 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 with her cousins. For, to the astonishment of the 
 latter, a fashionable dressmaker had been down ex- 
 pressly from London, and their excitement over the 
 handsome robes that had arrived knew no bounds. 
 
 Their aunts had been a long time in making a 
 move, and divers had been the consultations with 
 Viscountess Littletown and Lady Anna Maria Morton. 
 When at last that step was taken, it was with firmness 
 and judgment combined. 
 
 Poor Ruth was divided between longings to go to 
 the dinner-party and admiration of her cousins' 
 appearance, which, when they stood at last dressed, 
 an hour before the time, parading the shabby bed- 
 room and sweeping the skimpy pieces of Kidder- 
 minster carpet here and there with their stiff trains, 
 was dazzling. 
 
 Certainly a handsomer pair of women rarely graced 
 a party, and the Honourable Misses Dymcox, after a 
 careful inspection through their square florid gold- 
 edged eyeglasses, uttered sighs of satisfaction. 
 
 For the modiste had done her duty well. The 
 dresses were in the latest style, they fitted to perfec- 
 tion, and the girls' youth and the luxuriance of their
 
 IN BORROWED PLUMES. 187 
 
 hair quite made up for the want of jewellery to 
 enhance their charms. 
 
 The Honourable Misses Dymcox were almost as 
 excited as their nieces, for they, too, managed to get 
 dressed an hour before time in their lavender silk 
 straight-up-and-down garments, to which were tacked 
 a few old pieces of very yellow lace, supposed to be 
 an heirloom, but certainly very unattractive, whatever 
 it may have been when young. 
 
 A very weak cup o^ tea had been taken, the elder 
 ladies being in fear and trembling all the while. 
 
 'No, no, children, wait !' exclaimed Miss Philippa. 
 'Joseph, put down the cups, and tell Markes to bring 
 here two large pocket-handkerchiefs.' 
 
 In due time Markes appeared. 
 
 ' Now, children,' said Miss Philippa, ' stand up. 
 Markes, have the goodness to tie a handkerchief by 
 two of the corners just under the young ladies' chins. 
 It would be ruin to those dresses if they spilt any of 
 their tea.' 
 
 ' If you please, aunt, I don't want any tea,' said 
 Clotilde. 
 
 ' Neither do I, aunt,' said Marie.
 
 1 88 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Hush, children ! You must take your tea. It is 
 imperative that you should enter Lady Littletown's 
 <irawing-room calm, self-possessed, and without any 
 sign of being flushed. Markes, tie on those hand- 
 kerchiefs.' 
 
 A red spot burned in the girls' cheeks as they sub- 
 mitted to the childish indignity, and when they were 
 duly provided with their bibs they were allowed to 
 drink their thin, washy, half-cold tea, exchanging 
 glances the while, for their emancipation had not yet 
 arrived. 
 
 * Ruth, ring the bell,' said Miss Philippa, as soon 
 as the tea was finished, and the handkerchiefs, which 
 had been rising and falling in a troubled fashion, had 
 been removed. 
 
 ' Take away these teacups, Joseph,' said Miss 
 Philippa. * Has the carriage arrived ?' 
 
 ' No, mum. It wants more than half an hour to 
 the time. Buddy hasn't been in yet.' 
 
 ' Hush ! Silence !' cried Miss Philippa harshly ; 
 ' and dear me, Joseph, there is a large place on the 
 back of your head not powdered.' 
 
 Joseph was heard to mutter something, and then
 
 IN BORROWED PL UMES. 1 89 
 
 he went forth in his best livery of pale blue with 
 yellow facings and black knee-breeches, to finish his 
 toilet for the night. 
 
 * Oh, here you are, then,' exclaimed Joseph, upon 
 reaching his pantry, a peculiarly close, stuffy little 
 room, smelling very strongly of sink, and furnished 
 with two cupboards, a bracket flap, and what looked 
 like a third detached cupboard, but which was really 
 the turn-up bedstead on which Joseph slept. 
 
 * Yes, here I am, Joey,' said a husky-voiced little 
 red-nosed man, with a very blotchy, pimply face, to 
 wit Isaac Buddy, the sole proprietor of a roomy old- 
 fashioned Cla'-cnce fly, which was drawn by a very 
 small shambling horse. 
 
 This conveyance was Mr. Isaac Buddy's means of 
 livelihood, for it was to let, as his cards said, ' by the 
 day, night, or job,' and the hiring of Mr. Isaac Buddy's 
 fly meant not only, as a matter of course, the hire of 
 the horse to draw it, but of Mr. Isaac Buddy himself. 
 
 For, out of deference to the feelings and aristo- 
 cratic ideas of certain of the ladies residing in the 
 private apartments, Mr. Buddy had become an actor, 
 who played many parts, and though the fiction was
 
 I90 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 perfectly well understood, nobody ever thought of 
 smiling if they saw Mr. Isaac Buddy in a hat with a 
 tarnished gold band on Mondays as Lady Anna 
 Maria Morton's coachman, or in a hat with a silver 
 band on Tuesday, as Miss Tees', or on Wednesday in 
 a very hard shiny glazed hat without any nap, as 
 Mrs. Mongloff's, or on other days in costumes to 
 suit. 
 
 The Clarence fly of course remained the same, but 
 it was always disguised in a more sounding name, 
 and became * the carriage.-* 
 
 * There ain't a drop o' nothing about handy, is 
 there, Joey ?' said Mr. Buddy, as the thin footman 
 set the tray down upon the bracket-flap. 
 
 * No, that there ain't,' said Joseph, ' without you'd 
 like the pot filled up and have a cup o' tea.' 
 
 * G'orn with yen Did you ever know me wash 
 myself out with warm water } How's the old gals T 
 
 'Old style,' replied Joseph; 'but I say, Buddy, just 
 cast your eye round as they're getting in : the young 
 ladies have been done up to rights.' 
 
 * I wish someone would find the money to get my 
 old fly done up to rights,' said Mr. Buddy, who,
 
 IX B ORR O WED PL UMES. 1 9 1 
 
 apparently quite at home, was standing before a 
 shaving-glass hung against the wall, persuading, with 
 Joseph's brush, a couple of very obstinate little 
 whiskers to stand out straight forward in the direction 
 their owner wished. ' 'Spose there'll be a wedding, 
 then, some day.' 
 
 ' Well, I dunno,' said Joseph. 
 
 * Looks like it, if they're having 'em fresh painted,' 
 said ^Ir. Buddy, who now touched up his very greasy 
 gray hair, making it stick up in points, in unconscious 
 imitation of that of a clown. 
 
 ' Here, you'd better look sharp, old man,' said 
 Joseph, ^they're all ready and waiting, and time's 
 getting on.' 
 
 ' Which we ain't, Joey^ or we should be doing 
 better than we are, eh V 
 
 ' Ah, we should,' said Joseph, making a powder-box 
 squeak as he unscrewed the top ; and then taking out 
 the puff, he placed a tea-cloth over his shoulders, and 
 gave his hair a few dabs. ' Now then, old man. 
 Have the tea-cloth on?' 
 
 * Ah, you may as well,' was the reply ; and the cloth 
 having been adjusted by Joseph, the little man stood
 
 193 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 blinking solemnly while his dingy hair was duly 
 powdered and turned white. 
 
 * Why, you might stand a bit o' wilet powder 
 cump'ny nights, Joey/ said the flyman, solemnly 
 removing a little white meal from amongst the ruddy 
 pimples of his face with the corner of the cloth in 
 regular use for wiping the tea and breakfast service. 
 
 * How am I to stand best vi'let powder out o' what 
 they allow ?' replied Joseph. ' Flour's just as good, 
 and don't cost me nothing. Now then, look sharp.' 
 
 As he spoke Joseph pulled open a drawer, from 
 which he drew a drab great-coat, inside which the 
 little man placed himself, for it was manifestly so 
 much too large that he could hardly be said to have 
 put it on. Then a blue hat-box was pushed off the 
 top of one of the cupboards, out of which a rather 
 ancient hat was extricated, and mounted by the fly- 
 man, whose head seemed to have become suddenly 
 wonderfully small ; for it was an imposing structure 
 of beaver with very curly brims, apparently kept from 
 coming uncurled by a rigging or series of stays of 
 tarnished silver cord, which ran from the lining up to 
 a Panjandrum-like round button 'at the top, also of
 
 AV BORROWED PLUMES. 193 
 
 tarnished silver; while a formidable-looking and very 
 spiky black cockade rose something like a patent 
 ventilator from one side. 
 
 ' That's about the ticket, ain't it, Joey ?' said the 
 little man. shaking his head so as to get the big hat 
 in a good state of balance, and buttoning himself to 
 the chin. 
 
 ' Yes, that will do, old man.-' 
 
 ' The ladies want to know if the carriage has come, 
 Joseph,' said Markes, suddenly making her appear- 
 ance. 
 
 ' Which you may take your solemn oath it ain't,"* 
 said Mr. Buddy, ' for not one inch will that there 
 horse stir till I wakes him up.^ 
 
 * Then do for goodness' sake, man, look sharp and 
 fetch it,' exclaimed Markes. ' I'm sure it's past the 
 time r 
 
 ' Wants five minutes,' said Mr. Buddy, nodding his 
 head, and having to dart one hand up to save the hat, 
 which came down over his nose, and would have con- 
 tinued its course to the floor. ' I say, your old coach- 
 man must have had a head like a bull, to have worn 
 that hat without stuffing. There, I'm off. Soon be 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 back. I say, though/ he whispered, thrusting back 
 his head, and this time holding on by the rigging of 
 the hat, * if it comes to a wedding, the old gals ought 
 to stand some new togs.' 
 
 Within a quarter of an hour Mr. Isaac Buddy, who 
 had entered the private apartments as flyman, and 
 came out the Honourable Misses Dymcox^s coach- 
 man, was at the door with the transformed fly. The 
 ladies were duly packed inside, with many tremors 
 as to their dresses, and Joseph, also in a drab great- 
 coat and a fearful and wonderful hat — the twin- 
 brother of that upon Mr. Buddy's head — mounted to 
 the seat. Then the carriage jingled and jangled off — 
 a dashing brougham and pair, with flashing lights and 
 the windows down, rattling by them, making Buddy's 
 nervous nag shy to the near side, as if he meant to 
 mount the side walk out of the way. 
 
 ' Rie,-' whispered Clotilde, with her ruddy lips 
 touching her sister's ear. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' That funny little officer was inside.' 
 
 ' Yes,' muttered Marie to herself, * and the tall one 
 as well ; and you know it. I wonder who they are .'"
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE SLAVE OF FORTUNE. 
 
 ' I SAY, look here ! You know, Litton, I'm the last 
 man on earth to complain ; but you know, d — n it, 
 you don''t do your duty by me.' 
 
 'You don't give me credit for what I do do, 
 Elbraham, pon my soul you don't 1' said the gentle- 
 man addressed — a rather fashionably-dressed, stylish 
 young fellow of eight-and-twenty or thirty, whose 
 hair was closely cropped in the latest style, his well- 
 worn clothes scrupulously brushed, and his hands 
 particularly white. 
 
 As he answered he screwed his glass very tightly 
 into his eyes and gazed at the first speaker — a little, 
 pudgy, high-shouldered man, with a very short neck 
 and a very round head, slightly bald. He was care- 
 
 13—2
 
 196 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 fully dressed, and a marked point in his attire was 
 the utter absence of everything in the shape of 
 jewellery or ornament. His fat white hands did not 
 display so much as a ring ; and though a slight 
 prominence in his vest proclaimed the presence of a 
 watch, it was attached to his person by a guard of 
 the finest black silk. His countenance, however, did 
 not match with the refinement of his attire, for it 
 betrayed high living and sensual indulgence. There 
 was an unpleasant look, too, about his eyes ; and if to 
 the least cultured person he had asserted in the most 
 emphatic manner that he was a gentleman, it would 
 not have been believed. 
 
 But, all the same, he was a man of mark, for this 
 was Samuel Elbraham, the financier, the man who 
 was reputed to have made hundreds of thousands by 
 his connection with the Khedive. Men in society 
 and on 'Change joked about Elbraham, and said that 
 he was a child of Israel, who went down into Egypt 
 and spoiled the Egyptians for everybody's buying 
 but his own. They called him Potiphar, too, and 
 made it a subject of jest that there was no Potiphar's 
 wife ; but they also said that it did not matter, for
 
 THE SLAVE OF FORTUNE. 197 
 
 these were days when people had arisen who knew 
 not Joseph. 
 
 Then they laughed, and wondered whether Potiphar 
 of old went in for a theatre, and supplied rare subsidies 
 of hard cash to a manager, and was very fond of 
 taking parties of friends to his private-box to witness 
 the last new extravaganza, after the said friends had 
 dined with him and drunk his champagne. 
 
 Somehow or other, it was the friends who ate his 
 dinners and drank his champagne that made the 
 most jokes about him ; but though these witticisms, 
 real or would be, came round to him at times, they 
 troubled him very little. 
 
 The conversation above commenced took place in 
 Mr. Elbraham's library, at the riverside residence at 
 Twickenham, the handsomely-furnished place that he, 
 the celebrated converted Israelite, had taken of Lord 
 Washingtower, when a long course of ill-luck on the 
 turf had ended in nearly placing his lordship under 
 the turf, for rumour said that his terrible illness was 
 the result of an attempt to rid himself of his woes by 
 a strong dose of a patent sedative medicine. 
 
 As Mr. Elbraham spoke he hitched up his shoulders,
 
 198 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 thrust his hands into his pockets, and walked up and 
 down in front of the books he never read. 
 
 ' Not give you credit for what you do ?' he retorted. 
 ' Why, what do you mean ?' 
 
 ' Don't talk to me like that, Elbraham, please. 
 I'm not your servant.' 
 
 ' Hang it all, then, what the devil are you ? I pay 
 you regular wages.' 
 
 ' No. Stop, please. I accept a regulated stipend 
 from you, Elbraham.' 
 
 ' Oh, very good ! let's have it like that, then, Mr. 
 Rarthur Litton. I took you up, same as I did your 
 bills, when you were so hard hit that you didn't know 
 where to go for a fiver. You made certain proposals 
 and promises to me, and, I ask you, what have you 
 done ?' 
 
 ' More than you give me credit for,' was the reply, 
 rather sullenly made. 
 
 ' You dine with me, you sleep here, and make this 
 place your home whenever you like ; and when I 
 look for your help, as I expected, I find that your 
 name is in the papers as the secretary to some con- 
 founded Small Fish Protection Society, or as
 
 THE SLA VE OF FORTUNE. 199 
 
 managing director of the Anti-Soap and Soda 
 Laundry Company.' 
 
 ' I'm sure I've done my duty by you, Mr. Elbra- 
 ham/ said the young man hotly. ' If you want to 
 quarrel and get rid of me, say so.' 
 
 ' I don't want to quarrel, and I don't mean to 
 quarrel, Mr. Rarthur Litton. I made a bargain with 
 you, and I mean to keep you to it. You boasted to 
 me of your high connections and your entree into 
 good society, and undertook to introduce me into 
 some of the best families, so that I might take the 
 position that my wealth enables me to hold. Now, 
 then, please, have I paid up like a man i*' 
 
 'Yes ; you have,' was the sulky response. 
 
 'And you've taken jolly good care to draw 
 more than was your due. Now, what have you 
 done?' 
 
 ' Well, I taught you to dress like something different 
 to a cad.' 
 
 • Humph ! You did knock off my studs and rings 
 and things.' 
 
 * And I've dined with you till I've got you to be fit 
 to eat your meals in a Christianlike manner.'
 
 200 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' Look here, Mr. Rarthur, sir,' said Elbraham hotly, 
 ' is that meant as a sneer ?' 
 
 ' No ; of course not.' 
 
 'Oh!' 
 
 ' Then I wanted time to get these things in proper 
 course. Well, come now, I did get you the invitation 
 to Lady Littletown's.' 
 
 ' Yes ; to a beggarly dinner with an old woman at 
 Hampton. Are you going to dine there ?' 
 
 * I ? No ! I come in afterwards at the " at 
 home.'" 
 
 ' Ah ! I wanted to talk to you about that affair to- 
 night. You promised without my consent.' 
 
 ' Of course I did. It was a great chance.' 
 
 ' A great chance T 
 
 ' Of course. You don't know how big a thing it is 
 to be.' 
 
 'Bah! stuff! rubbish! A feed given to all the 
 old pensioned tabbies at Hampton Court.' 
 
 ' Don't you make any mistake, sir. There'll be 
 some big people there.' 
 
 ' Big ! Why, I could buy up dozens of them.' 
 
 ' Their incomes, perhaps, Mr. Elbraham, but not
 
 THE SLA VE OF FORTUNE. 201 
 
 their position and their entree to good society. Sir, 
 you could not even buy mine.' 
 
 ' But I could your bills,' said the other, with a grin. 
 
 ' And hold them over me, you wretched little cad !' 
 said the young man to himself. Then aloud : 
 
 ' I can assure you, Mr. Elbraham, that this dinner 
 will give you the step you wanted. Lady Littletown 
 stands very high in society. The Duchess of Redesby 
 will be there, and Lord Henry Moorpark.' 
 
 * What ! old Apricot — old yellow and ripe !' said 
 Elbraham with a chuckle. 
 
 ' Lord Henry Moorpark is a thorough specimen of 
 an English nobleman, Mr. Elbraham,' said the 
 secretary stiffly ; ' and I consider that if the only 
 thing I had done was to gain you an introduction to 
 him, I should have earned all the wages, as you call 
 them, that you have condescended to pay me.' 
 
 'Yes, of course — yes, to be sure. There, there, 
 don't be so hot and peppery, Litton. I'm a bit put 
 out this morning. By the way, would you have the 
 brougham and pair or one horse ?' 
 
 ' Pair, decidedly,' said the young man. 
 
 ' You'll not go with me T
 
 202 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' No ; I come afterwards. You shall bring me 
 back if you will.' 
 
 * Yes ; of course. I'll put some cigars in the 
 pocket. Would you wear the diamond studs i*' 
 
 * No, Not a ring, even. Go in black, and hardly 
 speak a word. Do nothing but look the millionaire. 
 The simpler you dress, my dear sir, the richer they 
 will think you.' 
 
 * My dear Litton, you're a treasure — damme, that 
 you are, sir ! I say, look here : you don't happen 
 to want five, or ten, or twenty this morning, do 
 you ?' 
 
 Mr. Arthur Litton did happen to want twenty, not 
 five or ten ; and a couple of crisp notes were thrust 
 into his hand. 
 
 ' Well, I suppose it^s all right, Litton. I shall look 
 out for you there, then ; but it's a deuce of a way 
 to go.' 
 
 ' It's worth going to, if it were double the distance, 
 I can assure you. You have money; you want 
 position.' 
 
 ' All right, then ; that's settled. I'm going to the 
 City now. Are you going in .^'
 
 THE SLA VE OF FORTUNE. 203 
 
 ' Xo, thanks ; I shall sit down and do a little 
 writing.' 
 
 'Very good ; you'll find the cigars on the shelf.' 
 
 'What, those cigars .'' He spoke with a slight 
 emphasis on the 'those.' 'No, thanks; they have 
 too strong a flavour of a hundred-pound bill.' 
 
 ' What do you mean T 
 
 ' Forty pounds in cash, forty in old pale East India 
 sherry, and twenty in weeds.' 
 
 ' You're an artful one, you are, Litton — 'pon my 
 soul you are. Deuced artful,' said Mr. Elbraham, 
 with a curious puckering about the corners of his 
 eyes, intended to do duty for a smile. ' But that 
 reminds me, Huish's bill falls due to-morrow — 
 hundred pounds ; mustn't forget that. Here, pull out 
 your case.' 
 
 He unlocked a little cabinet with a tiny key, and 
 opened two or three drawers full of cigars, each with 
 a paper band round its middle. 
 
 ' Which is it to be V 
 
 The young man smiled, and filled his case, selecting 
 one as well for present smoking. The cabinet was 
 reclosed ; there was an interchange of nods ; Elbra-
 
 204 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 ham went off to the station ; Litton sat down and 
 wrote a letter, after which he made a little study of 
 a time-table, hurried off, and, catching a train, was 
 soon after [on his way to Hampton, where he was 
 just in time to catch Lady Littletown entering her 
 carriage for a drive. 
 
 'Ah, mo7i cher Arthur!' she exclaimed ; 'you nearly 
 missed me. There, come in, and I'll take you part of 
 your way back.' 
 
 Litton mounted beside her ladyship, and took his 
 seat as invited. 
 
 ' Drive slowly,' cried her ladyship ; and as the 
 handsome barouche, with its well-appointed pair of 
 bays, went gaily along the pleasant river-side road 
 towards the Palace, Lady Littletown turned her sharp 
 dark eyes searchingly upon her companion. 
 
 She was one of those elderly ladies upon whom 
 the effect of time seems to be that of making them 
 sharper and possessed of a keener interest in worldly 
 matters, and one in whose aquiline features there was 
 ample promise of her proving to be a most implacable 
 enemy if offended. Too cautious to allow her heart 
 to be stirred by instincts of an amatory nature, she
 
 THE SLA VE OF FORTUNE. 205 
 
 had found consolation in looking after the matrimonial 
 business of others ; and hence her interest in her 
 companion of the hour. 
 
 * Well ?' she said sharply ; ' what news ?' 
 ' I've fixed him for certain. He would have backed 
 out, but for a bit of a chat this morning.' 
 
 ' Then the nasty, scaly, slippery gold-fish will really 
 come V 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Not disappoint me as he did Judy Millet?' 
 ' You may depend upon him this time.' 
 ' Good boy, good boy. Now, look here, Arthur : 
 you are behaving very well over this, and if the affair 
 comes off as I wish, and you behave very nicely, I'll 
 see next what I can do by way of finding you a wife 
 with a snug fortune ; only you must not be too par- 
 ticular about her looks.' 
 
 ' I leave myself in your ladyship's hands.' 
 'There, now you may get down. I'm going to 
 make two or three calls in the Palace.^ 
 
 ' One moment, Lady Littletown,' said Litton 
 eagerly ; ' I'm just starting a society for the pre- 
 servation of ancient trees and old '
 
 2o6 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 'Now, mon cher, that will do,' said the old lady 
 decidedly. ' You know I never give money or ' 
 
 ' I only ask for your name as a patroness or sup- 
 porter.' 
 
 ' And you will not have it ; so now be a good boy, 
 and go. I've got your name down upon my tablets, 
 Arthur, so wait your time. Stop !' 
 
 The horses were checked ; the footman descended 
 and opened the door, rattling the steps loudly; 
 Arthur Litton leaped out, raised his hat; Lady 
 Littletown kissed the tips of her gloved fingers to 
 him, and the carriage passed on. 
 
 * I wonder whether she will,' said the young man, 
 as he walked towards the station. 'However, we 
 shall see.'
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. 
 
 'My income, my dears, just suffices for my wants,' 
 said Lady Littletown ; * and I have never anything 
 to spare for charities and that sort of thing.' 
 
 So said her ladyship to her aristocratic friends 
 living in pinched circumstances in the private apart- 
 ments ; and it may or may not have been intended 
 for a hint not to try and borrow money. 
 
 ' One would like to be charitable and to give largely, 
 but what with one's household expenses and the 
 horses and carriages, and my month in town in the 
 height of the season, I really sometimes find myself 
 obliged to ask his late lordship's agent for a few 
 hundreds in advance of the time when the rents are 
 due. But then, you see, one owes so much to one's 
 position.'
 
 2o8 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 The Honourable Misses Dymcox said one certainly 
 did ; Lady Anna Maria Morton, who had been long- 
 ing for a new silk evening dress for three years, said 
 the same; and, thoroughly feeling it to be a fact, 
 Lady Littletown tried to pay honourably what she 
 owed to society by rigidly living up to the last penny 
 of her fairly handsome income in the pleasant mansion 
 near Hampton Court. 
 
 She gave about four dinner-parties in the course of 
 the year, and afterwards received. 
 
 This was one of her special parties for a special 
 purpose, and when the last of her fifteen guests had 
 arrived and been looked at through her great gold 
 eyeglass held with the left hand, while the tips of 
 the fingers of the right were given in assurance of 
 her being * so delighted,' her ladyship proceeded to 
 marshal her forces for the procession to the dining- 
 room. 
 
 ' Here's what it is to be a lone widow !' she ex- 
 claimed playfully. 'Moorpark, might I ask you to 
 take the foot of the table 1 — Miss Marie Riversley.' 
 
 Lord Henry had murmured to himself a good 
 deal about being dragged down all the way from
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. 209 
 
 St. James's Square to Hampton just at a time when 
 his heart told him that he ought to be married, and 
 though terribly dissatisfied with the success which had 
 attended his attentions to Gertrude Millet, his brain 
 was full of her bright, refined features. He, however, 
 now advanced, quite the handsome, stately gentle- 
 man, with a pleasant, benevolent look upon his thin 
 face, and at once entered into conversation with the 
 dark beauty to whom he had been introduced, 
 
 ']\Ir. Elbraham,' continued Lady Littletown, in a 
 confidential whisper, as she inspected him as if he 
 were for sale, ' would you oblige me ? — Miss Dymcox's 
 niece/ 
 
 The reputed millionaire started, and a scowl began 
 to dawn in his face, for the name Dymcox brought 
 up the faces of the honourable sisters ; but as he was 
 led to dark, glowing, southern-faced Ciotilde, the 
 scowl reached no farther than its dawn, and the 
 ruddy sun of his coarse round face rose out of the fog, 
 and beamed its satisfaction upon the handsome girl. 
 
 ' Oh, I say, Glen, what a shame 1' whispered little 
 Dick Millet to his chosen companion, who, conse- 
 quent upon his being an officer and the friend of dear 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2IO A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Lady Millet's son, had been invited, like his major, 
 to the feast. 
 
 Dick began grinding his white teeth in the corner, 
 where he had been making eyes at Clotilde and 
 Marie in turn, whichever looked in his direction ; and 
 for the moment he seemed as if he were going to tear 
 either his curly hair or the dainty exotic from his 
 button-hole. 
 
 ' Hush ! be quiet,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! viva !' whispered Dick again. ' The 
 Black Douglas is being tacked on to that old scrag.' 
 
 ' That old scrag ' was the Honourable Philippa 
 Dymcox, and ' the Black Douglas ' Major Edward 
 Malpas, who, probably from disappointment in con- 
 nection with a late marriage, was contemplatively 
 watching Clotilde ; but his courtesy was perfect as 
 he bent toward the Honourable Philippa. 
 
 ' Now there's that other old she-dragon, Glen,' 
 whispered Dick. ' Oh, I say, it's too bad of the old 
 woman ! I won't, that I won't. I didn't come here 
 to be treated so, and if she says I'm to march in that 
 dreadful skeleton I'll be taken ill and make a bolt of it. 
 I say, Marcus," he continued, * my nose is going to
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. 211 
 
 bleed ;' and as he spoke he took out his delicately- 
 scented pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 ' Captain Glen, will you take in the Honourable 
 Isabella Dymcox ?' said Lady Littletown, showing 
 just a trifle of gold setting as she smiled. 
 
 Marcus Glen told the truth when he said he would 
 be most happy, for he recognised in the lady of the 
 old-fashioned lavender poplin one of the companions 
 of Clotilde and Marie in their walk in the Palace 
 gardens. 
 
 Dick Millet thrust his scented cambric back into 
 the pocket of his silk-lined coat, and after a glance at 
 the ladies, either of whom he longed to take in to 
 dinner, he had a look round the room to see which 
 would be the most eligible dinner-table companion of 
 those that were left ; but to his disgust he began to 
 find that he was being left entirely in the cold, for the 
 hostess, with all the skill of one who has well made 
 her plans beforehand, was rapidly finishing her 
 arrangements. 
 
 ' It^s enough to make any man's nose bleed, and 
 compel him to bolt,' muttered the handsome little 
 fellow, who had got himself up in the most irre- 
 
 14 — 2
 
 212 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 proachable manner, having even been to town that 
 afternoon on purpose to place himself in a hair- 
 dresser's hands. 
 
 ' Hang it all ! am I nobody ?* 
 
 It was hard work getting hold of the ends, but Dick 
 managed to give a vicious twist to his delicate floss silk 
 moustache, and he was contemplating a fresh appeal 
 to his scented handkerchief and making the threatened 
 bolt, as he termed it, with the cambric held to his 
 nose, when Lady Littletown approached. 
 
 ' Now, my dearest Richard,' she exclaimed, and her 
 many years, the speck of gold near one top tooth, the 
 wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and the sugges- 
 tions of untruthfulness about her hair, all seemed 
 to be softened down and seen through an eyeglass 
 tinted a la rose, ' I'm a very covetous person, and I 
 always make a point, like the wicked old widow I am, 
 of reserving the most beau chevalier for myself Now 
 you have to take me in, we two last ; and you'll be 
 obliged to help me out of my difficulties if there is 
 anything to carve.' 
 
 Dick coloured a little with pride: 
 
 *And we, too, must have a pleasant chat about
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. 213 
 
 mamma and the dear girls ; and, oh, I am so glad you 
 took to the army and are quartered down here. It 
 will be so pleasant for me; but I shall, for mamma's 
 sake, watch all your doings. I am not going to have 
 you turn out a roue like your wicked Major. Come 
 along.' 
 
 So Dick took in her ladyship, feeling taller, and 
 actually seeming to swell a little, as he found himself 
 seated at his hostess's right hand. Then, the places 
 being found, every guest's name neatly written on a 
 porcelain menu, Lord Henry, at the foot of the table, 
 closed his eyes, bent forward, and in a low, reverent 
 voice said grace, to which Mr. Elbraham added a very 
 audible ' Amen !' and the dinner commenced. 
 
 Of course it was all by way of paying her dues 
 to society that things were done so well, for certainly 
 the dinner was as exquisite as the table itself, with its 
 decorations of plate and glass, amidst which, half 
 hidden in almost a redundancy of exotic flowers, was 
 a thoroughly choice dessert. Richard Millet, who 
 rather trembled in the midst of his pride, and had 
 twice in imagination seen wings of chicken, as he dis- 
 membered a bird, flying in a cloud of brown sauce
 
 214 ^ DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 into people's laps, was spared all trouble, for the 
 viands were served a la Rttsse, and were perfect of 
 their kind. 
 
 ' I'm deuced glad I came/ thought Mr. Elbraham, as 
 the choice, well-iced wines reached him in turn, and 
 after several rather awkward attempts at conversation 
 with Clotilde he found himself getting on much 
 better. For his companion, in spite of her delight at 
 being present at such a party, and having been affec- 
 tionately kissed by Lady Littletown, and called ' My 
 dearest child,' was disappointed because Captain Glen 
 had not spoken to her, neither had he been chosen to 
 take her in to dinner. But, then, he had looked at 
 her — looked at her several times. He admired her. 
 There was no doubt about that. His looks said so 
 plainly ; and, for her part, there was something very 
 pleasant to her eyes in the well-built, manly fellow, 
 with his easy, indifferent ways and his gentlemanly, 
 chivalrous attention to her aunt ; who, poor soul ! was 
 nervous, and fluttered with the unusual excitement. 
 
 ' I don't like him ; he's a dreadful creature,' said 
 Clotilde to herself, as her companion grew more at 
 home, and, after a glass or two of a very choice
 
 A DIXNER FOR AN END. 215 
 
 champagne of unusual potency, began to talk to her 
 in a fashion somewhat suggestive of his style at 
 a private supper at the Rantan or at Latellier's, 
 and ladies who were in the habit of performing show 
 parts in public were present. 
 
 ' I'm deuced glad I came. She's a devilish hand- 
 some girl, and I like her,' thought Mr. Elbraham, and 
 during his next remark, of course inadvertently, his 
 coat-sleeve touched Clotilde's firm, white, well-rounded 
 arm. 
 
 ' And so you lead a very quiet, very retired life,' 
 said Lord Henry to Marie, as, scarcely partaking 
 of anything himself, he chivalrously devoted his 
 attention to his companion, enjoying her evident 
 delight and hearty young appetite, which as a rule 
 was none too well satisfied. 
 
 She, too, had been, in the midst of her delight 
 in her charming dress, the reflection of her handsome 
 self in Lady Littletown's mirror, that lady's affectionate 
 greeting, and the brilliant dinner-table, rather disap- 
 pointed that she had not been taken in by Captain 
 Glen, or that dark handsome Major, or even by the 
 funny pretty little page style of officer ; but by
 
 2i6 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 degrees that wore off, and she listened with real 
 pleasure to Lord Henry's words. 
 
 He was quite an elderly gentleman, but, then, he 
 was a nobleman, with a truer feeling of admiration 
 for the beautiful woman he had been called upon to 
 escort. There was something delightfully new, too, 
 in her ways. She was very different to the society 
 young ladies he was accustomed to meet, all gush 
 and strained style of conversation. Marie was as if 
 fresh from a convent, and he was even amused with 
 some of her naive remarks. 
 
 The Honourable Misses Dymcox had given their 
 nieces the most stringent instructions upon etiquette ; 
 above all, they were not to taste wine ; but while 
 Marie was answering a remark made by Lord Henry, 
 one of the servants filled that faintly prismatic glass, 
 like half a soap-bubble in its beauty, and from old 
 habit Marie lifted the drinking vessel by her hand, 
 tasted, found the clear sparkling wine delicious, and 
 had sipped again and again. 
 
 The effect was trifling, but it did remove some of 
 her diffidence, and she found herself chatting willingly 
 enough to her cavalier.
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. iij 
 
 ' Oh yes ; a very, very retired life. We spend most 
 of our time in the schoolroom, and when we take 
 walks it is in the gardens or in the park with our 
 aunts, at times when none of the London people 
 are down.' 
 
 ' Have you been on the Continent .'" 
 
 * Oh no,' replied Marie, ' not since Mr. Montaigne 
 brought us over to the Palace ?' 
 
 * May I ask who is Mr. Montaigne T 
 
 ' He was a very old friend of poor mamma's.' 
 
 ' Poor mamma V said Lord Henry inquiringly. 
 
 ' Oh yes ; poor mamma and papa died when we 
 were very little girls, and we have been with our aunts 
 ever since.' 
 
 Lord Henry sipped his wine, gazed sidewise at his 
 beautiful companion, and sighed. He thought of 
 Gertrude Millet, and let his eye rest from time to time 
 upon her brother, vainly trying to trace a resemblance, 
 and also that though Lady Millet had undoubtedly 
 seemed pleased by his advances, Gertrude had been 
 chilling, and Marie Dymcox was not. 
 
 Possibly, too, as the old man sighed, he thought 
 that he had no time to lose now that he had been
 
 2i8 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 thinking that he would marry, and he sighed again as 
 if in regret of something he had lost, something he 
 might have had, but had been too careless or in- 
 different to win. 
 
 A close observer would have noticed that there were 
 tears in his eyes just then. Lady Littletown was a 
 close observer, and by the aid of her eyeglass she did 
 notice it_, and secretly hugged herself. 
 
 ' But you go out a good deal — to parties, to con- 
 certs, or balls ?' 
 
 ' Oh no !' laughed Marie, and her white teeth showed 
 beneath her coral lips, while Major Malpas, who was 
 nearly opposite, looked at her intently from beneath 
 his heavy eyelids, and softly stroked his moustache. 
 * I was never at a party before.' 
 
 * And do you like it ?' said Lord Henry, beaming 
 upon her, as, with a secret kind of satisfaction, he 
 quietly admired the animated countenance beside him. 
 
 * Oh yes, yes,' she said softly. * I can't help liking 
 it very much.' 
 
 * Well/ said Lord Henry, smiling in quite a pleased 
 manner, ' why should you help liking it?' 
 
 * I don't know,' she said thoughtfully ; ' only we are
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. 219 
 
 always so quiet at the Palace, and aunts have often 
 said that too much gaiety was bad.' 
 
 •Too much, my dear child. Yes, certainly; but a 
 little is very pleasurable, and innocent, and good.' 
 
 Marie's eyes, as they met his, said that they were 
 delighted to hear it, and as she sat and let the quiet, 
 chivalrous old gentleman draw her out, no one would 
 have credited her with being one of the heroines of 
 some of the school-room scenes in which poor little 
 Ruth had been the victim. 
 
 Lord Henry Moorpark grew more and more thought- 
 ful as he chatted on with his companion. There was 
 something inexpressibly refreshing in Marie^s words 
 and ways, and he, too, congratulated himself upon the 
 dinner-party, which he had looked upon as a nuisance, 
 and to which he had come solely out of respect for 
 Lady Littletown, turning out so pleasurable and fresh. 
 He was not the only elderly guest who thoroughly 
 enjoyed the dinner, for the Honourable Isabella 
 Dymcox partook of her share of the courses in a 
 state of, for her, unwonted flutter. In accordance with 
 the plotting and planning that had been at work in 
 the Palace coterie, she had come fully prepared to give
 
 220 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 a furtive observation to what was going on with Clotilde 
 and Marie, the children who, with her sister, she was 
 fain to confess had arrived at a marriageable age ; 
 but from the moment she had laid her tremulous 
 hand upon Marcus Glen^s arm, and had been led by 
 him to her seat, her nieces had been forgotten. 
 
 Certainly Glen had several times over exchanged 
 glances with Clotilde, and taken notice of the fact 
 that Elbraham was growing more and more familiar 
 and loud ; but all the same he had found ample time 
 to devote himself with a good deal of assiduity to Miss 
 Isabella, making her at first surprised and cold, soon 
 after pleased and full of agreeable thoughts, and at 
 last thoroughly gratified at the way in which her com- 
 panion attended to her lightest wishes and conversed 
 upon society at Hampton Court. 
 
 ' I — I won't be so foolish as so think he means any- 
 thing,' said Miss Isabella to herself; * for he is quite 
 young and manly-looking, almost handsome, while I 
 am getting very old indeed, and all hope of that is 
 past ; but he is very nice and gentlemanly, and so 
 very different to officers as a rule. I must say I like 
 him very much.'
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. 221 
 
 She showed, too, that she did as soon as the cold 
 formal crust had been melted away, and Marcus was 
 not slow to realize the fact. 
 
 He was perfectly honest, for he knew that the 
 Honourable Isabella was the aunt of Clotilde, and 
 being- as impressionable as most young men of his age, 
 he had felt to some extent the power of that lady's 
 eyes. Under the circumstances, as he had been 
 thrown with the relative, he had thought it fair 
 campaigning to make friends with her, and this he 
 had done to such an extent that the attentions she 
 had received, and a glass or two of wine, made the 
 lady very communicative, and far happier than her 
 sister, who found the dinner much less to her taste. 
 
 Fur Major Malpas was not best pleased at having 
 to take her in, and he had confined himself to the 
 most frigid civilities. He was perfectly gentlemanly, 
 but as the dinner wore on he grew more polite, and by 
 consequence the Honourable Philippa became icy in 
 her manner, till at last she seemed to be frozen stiff. 
 
 ' Humph r he thought, 'better have gone and sat 
 with Renee Morrison. Yes,' he continued, staring 
 hard at Dick, ' your sister, my half-fledged cockerel.
 
 222 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 The other guests merely formed chorus to the 
 principal singers in the little social opera, but they 
 were wonderfully led by Lady Littletown, whose 
 tongue formed her conductor's baton, by which she 
 swayed them with a practised ease. 
 
 She had a word in season for everyone where it was 
 needful to keep up the balance of the parts, and 
 wonderfully skilful was her way. She gave a great 
 deal of her time to everybody, but little Richard 
 Millet never missed any of her attentions. In a very 
 short time she had quite won his confidence, and 
 knew that Major Malpas was a regular plunger, that 
 Captain Glen was the dearest and best fellow in the 
 world, that he hadn't any more vice in him than a 
 child, that they were the dearest of friends, and that 
 Marcus had only about two hundred and fifty a year 
 besides his pay. 
 
 * I begin to like Hampton Court, Lady Littletown,' 
 said the boy warmly, for the champagne had been 
 frequent. 
 
 * I'm sure you'll love the place when you begin to 
 know us better. Of course you will come to all my 
 ''at homes?" '
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. 223 
 
 * That I will,' exclaimed the delighted youth. ' By 
 the way, Lady Littletown, what lovely girls those 
 Miss Dymcoxes are !' 
 
 ' Yes, are they not ?' replied Lady Littletown ; ' but 
 oh, fie, fie, fie! This will not do. I will not listen 
 to a single word. I'm not going to lend myself to 
 any match-making. What would Lady Millet say ?' 
 
 ' But,, really, Lady Littletown ' 
 
 ' Oh dear me, no ; I will not listen. I know too 
 well, sir, what you officers are — so wicked and reck- 
 less, and given to breaking ladies' hearts. I think I 
 shall absolutely forbid you even approaching them 
 when you come up to the drawing-room. I would 
 not for the world be the means of causing any heart 
 diseases amongst my guests.' 
 
 ' But surely, Lady Littletown, a fellow may admire 
 at a distance ?' 
 
 ' Oh dear no,' said her ladyship playfully ; ' I think 
 not. Lm afraid you are a very bad, dangerous man, 
 and I shall have to withdraw my invitation.' 
 
 Dick Millet pleaded ; the invitation was not with- 
 drawn ; and the little fellow was better satisfied with 
 himself than he had felt for months.
 
 224 ^ DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 ' It's an uncommonly well got-up affair, after all/ he 
 thought ; ' but I wish the ladies would go now. I want 
 to get the wine over, and go up to the drawing-room.' 
 
 To the little fellow's satisfaction the long-drawn-out 
 repast did come to an end, that cleverly-managed 
 signal was given which acts electrically at a certain 
 stage of a dinner ; the ladies rose, and in place of one 
 of the younger gentlemen opening the door, Lord 
 Henry performed that duty, a genial but half-sad 
 smile playing about his thin, closely-shaven lips, as 
 Marie looked up in his face in passing. Then the 
 last lady went out, and the gentlemen closed up to 
 their coffee and wine. 
 
 Somehow or other, Marcus Glen found himself now 
 near Lord Henry, and while a knot of listeners heard 
 Mr. Elbraham's opinion upon the Eastern Question, 
 especially with regard to the new Sultan and the 
 position of Egypt, the young officer entered into a 
 quiet discussion upon the history of the old Palace, 
 and was surprised and pleased to find how much his 
 companion knew of the past days of the old red-brick 
 building, but above all at the genial, winning manner 
 the old gentleman possessed.
 
 A DIXXER FOR AX EXD. 225 
 
 Acting the part of host now for the time being, he 
 soon proposed that they should adjourn, for there was 
 a strange longing within him to be within sight and 
 hearing of Marie. 
 
 *Ah, to be sure,' said Elbraham ; 'if I wanted to 
 invest, gentlemen, I should say Egyptian bonds. By 
 all means, let's join the ladies.' 
 
 He, too, had come to the conclusion that he should 
 like ' another talk to that girl' But the drawing-room 
 was filling fast, and there were no more tUe-d-tctes. 
 Arthur Litton arrived soon after ten, and his chief 
 approached him to shake hands, as if they had not 
 met for some time. 
 
 'Well ?' said Litton. 
 
 ' Stunning, sir, stunning ! 'Bove par.' 
 
 'Oh!' 
 
 ' Deuced good dinner, Litton, 'pon my soul. People 
 not half so snobbish as I expected to find them. I 
 say, look here. What do you think of that piece of 
 goods ?' 
 
 He indicated Clotilde, about whom Dick Millet 
 was now hovering ; but who had turned from him to 
 listen to a remark just made by Glen. 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * Hum, ha !' said Litton critically. * Oh, that's one 
 of the Dymcox girls, isn't it ?' 
 
 *I didn't ask you anything about who she is; I 
 said what do you think of her ?' 
 
 ' Not bad-looking, I should say/ replied Litton 
 coolly ; * but nothing particular.' 
 
 ' Oh, you be blowed !' said the great financier, and 
 he screwed his short thick neck down a little lower 
 into his chest, and turned away. 
 
 * Well, Lady Littletown, how do matters make them- 
 selves V said Litton quietly, when, after a time, her 
 ladyship passed his way. 
 
 'Oh, Arturo, mio carol said her ladyship, tick- 
 ling the centre stud in his shirt-front with the end 
 of her closed fan. ^ Maravigliosamente. My dear 
 boy, it is wonderful. You shall have a rich wife, 
 Arthur, if you are good, and this affair is un fait 
 accompli! 
 
 ' Why didn't you try a bit of German, too ?' muttered 
 Litton, as her ladyship passed on. ' Here, I must get 
 on with some of these officers ; perhaps they'd take 
 me to their quarters, and give me a smoke and an 
 S. and B. Hang this tea ! I forgot, though, 1
 
 A DINNER FOR AN END. ill 
 
 promised Potiphar to go home with him. Hang the 
 beast ! but it will save me a fare.' 
 
 Everyone was delighted. Lady Littletown was 
 charmed over and over again, but when at last an 
 obsequious footman, who seemed to be shod with 
 velvet, whispered to the Honourable Philippa that 
 her carriage had arrived, that lady, who felt very 
 tired and sleepy, said mentally, ' Thank goodness !' 
 
 But it was half an hour later before she made a 
 move, and the drawing-rooms were growing unbearably 
 hot with the chattering, buzzing crowd. 
 
 Suddenly there was silence, as the Honourable 
 Misses Dynicox rose to go. 
 
 Lady Littletown was so sorry the evening had been 
 so short, but she managed to exchange mxcaning looks. 
 * I think, yes,' she whispered ; and the Honourable 
 Philippa nodded and tightened her lips. 
 
 ' Good-night, my sweet darling,' said Lady Little- 
 town, kissing Clotilde affectionately. ' Mind you 
 come and see me soon. Good-night, dearest Marie. 
 How well you look to-night, child !' 
 
 Then her ladyship saw through her square eye- 
 glass, with the broad chased gold rim, Elbraham, 
 
 15—2
 
 228 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 podgy, stout and pufT)^ take Clotilde down to the 
 carriage, followed by Lord Henry with Marie, and 
 Captain Glen with the Honourable Isabella, and little 
 Richard Millet with the Honourable Philippa ; every- 
 one but Joseph being- perfectly ignorant of the fact 
 that Mr. Buddy had been imbibing largely of the 
 stimulants plentifully handed round to the various 
 servants outside. 
 
 But the ladies were duly packed inside, the jangling 
 door was banged to, and Joseph, having mounted to 
 the box beside Mr. Buddy, perhaps only out of regard 
 for his own safety, assumed the reins of government 
 himself, and steered the fly to the Palace doors. 
 
 'Good-night, children,' said the Honourable Misses 
 Dymcox in duet. ^ Take care of your dresses what- 
 ev^er you do !' 
 
 ' Oh, Rie !' cried Clotilde, as soon as they were in 
 their bedroom. 
 
 ' Oh, Clo !' cried Marie. Then, crossing to the 
 farther door to the cupboard in which Ruth's bed 
 was squeezed — ' 'Sleep, Ruthy ?' 
 
 ' No, Marie,' was the reply, as a troubled, pale face 
 was lifted from the pillow.
 
 A DIXXER FOR AX EXD. 229 
 
 ' Why, I declare she has been crying 1' said Clotilde. 
 ' There, jump up and help us to undress, Cindy, and 
 we'll tell you all about the prince and the ball. You 
 weren't there, were you ?' 
 
 Xo ; Cinderella, otherwise Ruth AUerton, had not 
 been there ; but she had been crying bitterly, for she 
 had had a fright.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FAMILY MATTERS. 
 
 Captain Robert Millet's lunch was carried up 
 to him upon a very stiff, narrow tray, which took 
 dishes and plates one after the other in a long row. 
 It was evidently something or several somethings 
 very savoury and nice from the odours exhaled, but 
 everything was carefully covered over. 
 
 It was no easy task, the carriage of that long, 
 narrow tray from the basement to the back drawing- 
 room on the first floor, especially as there were gravies 
 and other liquids on the tray ; but Valentine Vidler 
 and his wife had taken up breakfasts, lunches, and 
 dinners too many thousand times to be in any 
 difficulty now. 
 
 So, starting from the dark kitchen, where coppers.
 
 FAMIL Y MA TIERS. 231 
 
 pewters, and tins shone like so many moons amidst 
 the gloom, the odd couple each took an end of the 
 tray, which was quite six feet long, and Vidler's own 
 invention. Salome went first, backwards, and Vidler 
 followed over the level, when, as the little woman 
 reached the mat at the foot of the kitchen stairs, there 
 was a pause, while she held the tray with one hand 
 and gave her long garments a hitch, so as to hold one 
 end in her teeth and not tread upon them as she went 
 up backwards. Then, stooping and holding the tray 
 as low as she could, she began to ascend, Vidler 
 following and gradually raising his end to preserve 
 the level of the tray till he held it right above his 
 head. 
 
 This raising and lowering in ascent and upon level 
 was all carried out in the most exact and regular 
 way — in fact, so practised had the old couple grown 
 in the course of years, that they could have carried a 
 brimming glass of water up the gloomy stairs with- 
 out spilling a drop. Hence, then, they reached the 
 drawing-room with the tray preserving its equilibrium 
 from bottom to top. 
 
 As soon as they were inside Salome placed her end
 
 232 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 upon the little bracket while Vidler retained his ; 
 then she went out of the room, took up a big, soft 
 drumstick, and gave three gentle taps on a gong that 
 hung in its frame — three taps at long intervals, which 
 sounded like the boomings of a bell at the funeral of 
 a fish and a fowl — and then returned to the drawing- 
 room and stood on the right-hand side of the panel 
 close to the wall with one hand raised. 
 
 As she took her place the panel was softly slid back 
 towards her. Then she took off the first cover, Vidler 
 acting in conjunction, made the long tray glide slowly 
 forwards into the opening, its end evidently resting 
 on something within. Then two hands appeared, a 
 knife and fork were used, with a glass at intervals, 
 and the fish was discussed. 
 
 As soon as the knife and fork were laid down 
 Salome whipped off two more covers, and the tray 
 glided in a couple of feet further, both the lady and 
 her lord keeping their eyes fixed upon the floor. 
 
 The calmness and ease with which all this was 
 carried on indicated long practice, and for precision 
 no amount of drilling could have secured greater 
 regularity. As the knife and fork fell upon the plate
 
 FAMIL Y MA TTERS. 233 
 
 again there was a pause, for a pint decanter and glass 
 were pushed opposite the thin w^hite hands that now 
 approached, and, removing the stopper, filled the 
 glass. Then a cover was raised, and the tray glided 
 onw^ard once more, with some steaming asparagus on 
 toast ; and after a short pause the cold, colourless 
 voice was heard to repeat a short grace, the tray was 
 slowly withdrawn, the panel glided to, and Vidler and 
 his little wife bore the remains of the luncheon to the 
 lower regions. 
 
 Hardly had the tray been set down before there 
 was a double knock,, and on going upstairs Vidler 
 found John Huish at the front door. 
 
 * Would Captain Millet give me an interview, 
 Vidler ?' he asked. 
 
 The little man looked at him sidewise, then tried 
 the other eye, and ended by standing out of the way 
 and letting the visitor enter, shutting out the light 
 again as carefully as before. 
 
 ' I'll try, sir,' he said ; ' I don't think he will. I 
 was just going to take up that,' he continued, pointing 
 to a basket of coloured scraps of print. ' He's about 
 to begin a new counterpane to-day.'
 
 234 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * A new what ?' said Huish. 
 
 ' A new counterpane for the Home Charity. 
 That'll be six he has made this year. I'll show you 
 the last.' 
 
 He led Huish into the darkened dining-room, and 
 showed him a wonderfully neat piece of needlework, 
 a regular set pattern, composed of hundreds upon 
 hundreds of tiny scraps of cotton print. 
 
 ' Makes 'em better than many women could, and 
 almost in the dark,' said the little man ; ^ but PU go 
 up and see. Miss Millet and her sister have not 
 been gone long.' 
 
 ' What r cried Huish, ' from here V 
 
 ' Gone nearly or quite an hour ago, sir. Been a 
 good deal lately.' 
 
 * My usual fortune,' muttered Huish excitedly. 
 ' But go up,' he said aloud ; ' I particularly want to 
 have a few words with him.' 
 
 * I don't think it's of any use, sir ; but PU see,' 
 repeated the little man ; and he went upstairs, to 
 return at the end of about five minutes to beckon the 
 visitor up, and left him facing the panel. 
 
 It was evident that the young man had been there
 
 FAMIL Y MA TIERS. 235 
 
 before, as he took a seat, and waited patiently for the 
 panel to unclose, which it did at last, but not until 
 quite a quarter of an hour had passed. 
 
 ' Well, John Huish,' said the voice, * what do you 
 want ?' 
 
 It was rather a chilling reception for one who had 
 come upon such a mission ; but he was prepared for 
 it, and dashed at once into the object of his visit, in 
 spite of the peculiarity of having to address himself 
 to a square opening in the wall. 
 
 ' I have come for advice and counsel/ said Huish 
 firmly. 
 
 ' You, a man of the world, living in the world, come 
 to such an anchorite as I !' said the voice — ' as I, who 
 have for pretty well thirty years been dead to society 
 and its ways ?' 
 
 * Yes,' said Huish. 'I come to you because you 
 can help.' 
 
 'How much do you want, John Huish?' said the 
 voice. ' Give me the pen and ink.' 
 
 The thin white hand appeared impatiently at the 
 opening, with the fingers clutching as if to take the 
 pen.
 
 236 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * No, no, no !' said the young man hastily. * It is 
 not that. Let me tell you,' he exclaimed, as the 
 fingers ceased to clutch impatiently at the air and 
 the white hand rested calmly upon the edge of the 
 opening — ' let me speak plainly, for I am not ashamed 
 of it — I am in love.' 
 
 There was a faint sigh here, hardly audible to the 
 young man, who went on : 
 
 ' I come to you for help and advice.' 
 
 'What can I do to help ? As for advice,' said the 
 voice coldly, * I will do what I can. Is she worthy of 
 your love?' 
 
 'Worthy?' cried Huish, flushing. 'She is an 
 angel' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the voice, with a sigh. ' They all are. 
 But, tell me, does she refuse you.' 
 
 ' No, sir.' 
 
 ' Then what more do you want ? Who and what 
 is she?' 
 
 These last words were said with more approach to 
 interest, and the fingers began to tap the edge of the 
 opening. 
 
 ' It is presumption on my part,' said Huish, growing
 
 rA MIL V JIA TTERS. 237 
 
 excited, and rising to stride up and down the room, 
 * for I am poor and unworthy of her.' 
 
 * No true honourable man is imworthy of the 
 woman he loves,' said the voice calmly, * though 
 he may, perhaps, be unsuited. Go on. Who is the 
 lady ?' 
 
 ' Who is she, sir ? I believed that you must know. 
 It is your niece — Gertrude.' 
 
 * My God !' 
 
 It was almost a whisper, but John Huish heard it, 
 and saw that the thin white hand seemed to be jerked 
 upwards, falling slowly back, though, to remain upon 
 the edge of the opening trembling. 
 
 ' I shock you, sir, by my announcement,' said Huish 
 bitterly. 
 
 *No — yes — no; not shock — surprise me greatly.' 
 There was a pause, and the fingers trembled as they 
 were now and again raised, then grew steady as they 
 were laid down. ' But tell me,' it continued, trembling 
 and becoming less cold, ' does Gertrude return your 
 love ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes, Heaven bless her, yes !' cried the young 
 man fervently ; and there was another silence, such
 
 238 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 as might have ensued had the owner of the voice been 
 trying to master some emotion. 
 
 * What more, then, do you want ?' said the voice, 
 now greatly changed. * You, an honourable young 
 man, in love with a girl who is all sweetness and 
 purity. It is strange ; but it is the will of God. 
 Marry her, and may He bless the union !' 
 
 ' Captain Millet, you make me very, very happy,' 
 cried the young man ; and before the hand could be 
 removed it was seized and pressed in his strong 
 grasp. 
 
 It was vi'ithdrawn directly, and a fresh silence 
 ensued, when the voice said softly : 
 
 ' And my brother, does he approve ?' 
 
 * Oh yes ; I think so,' replied Huish ; ' but ' 
 
 ' The mother objects — of course. She has made 
 her choice. Who is it ?' 
 
 * Lord Henry Moorpark.' 
 
 ' A man nearly three times her age. It would be a 
 crime. You will not permit such an outrage against 
 her youth. Moorpark must be mad.' 
 
 ' What can I do, sir ?' cried Huish. * That is why I 
 ask your help and counsel.'
 
 FAMIL Y MA ITERS. 239 
 
 ' Bah !' said the voice contemptuously. ' You are 
 young and strong ; you have your wits ; Gertrude 
 loves you, and you ask me for help and counsel! 
 John Huish, at your age, under such circumstances, it 
 would have been a bold man who would have robbed 
 me of my prize. There, go — go, young man, and 
 think and act. Poor Gertrude! she has a mother who 
 makes Mammon her God — a woman who has broken 
 one of her children's hearts ; do not let her break that 
 of the other. Go now, I am weary : this has been a 
 tiring day. You can come to me again.' 
 
 ' Do not let her break that of the other,' said John 
 Huish to himself as the panel slowly closed; and 
 from that moment the dim twilight of the shuttered 
 house became to him glorious with light, and he went 
 away feeling joyous and elastic as he had not felt for 
 days. As he neared his chambers a thin, gray, hard- 
 faced-looking woman, who had stood watching for 
 quite an hour, stepped out of a doorway and touched 
 him' on the arm. 
 
 He turned sharply, and she said in a low voice : 
 
 ' I must see you. Come to-morrow night at the old 
 time.'
 
 240 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 Before he could speak she had hurried away, turned 
 down the next street, and was gone. 
 
 * To-morrow night — the old time ?' said Huish, 
 gazing after her, and then raising his hat to place his 
 hand upon his forehead. * Quite cool. Is it fancy ? 
 Why should that woman speak to me?' 
 
 Then, turning upon his heel, he entered the door of 
 his chambers, and set himself to w^ork to think 
 over his interview, and to devise some plan 
 for defeating Lady Millet in her projected enter- 
 prise. 
 
 'It would shock her,' he said at last; 'but when 
 she knows of her uncle's views she might be influenced. 
 She must, she shall be. The poor old man's words 
 have given me strength, and I shall win, after all. 
 But what slaves we are to custom and prejudice ! I 
 ought not to be the man to study them in such a case 
 as this.' 
 
 Then the words just spoken to him at the door 
 came back to puzzle and set him thinking of se>^eral 
 other encounters — or fancied encounters with people 
 whom he felt that he had never seen before. 
 
 • I don't know what to say to it,' he thought ;
 
 FAMIL Y MA TIERS. 241 
 
 ' Stonor ought to know ; but somehow I feel as if he 
 had not grasped my case. There, I will not trouble 
 about that now.' 
 
 He kept the thoughts which troubled him from his 
 brain for a time, but they soon forced themselves back 
 with others. 
 
 ' I wonder,' he mused, ' what took place in the past ? 
 There must have been something. My father and 
 mother must have known Captain Millet very in- 
 timately. He received his injury from some fall, 
 and Dr. Stonor saved his limb, I believe. But 
 there's a reticence about all that time which is 
 aggravating. I suppose 1 must wait, and when I 
 learn everything which puzzles me now, it will be only 
 shadowy and vague. Only my mother always asks 
 about the Captain with so tender a tone of respect. 
 Ah, well ! I must wait.' 
 
 At about the same time that John Huish was 
 pondering over his state in connection with his love 
 affairs, Renee Morrison called in her carriage for her 
 sister, bore her off to where she thought they could be 
 alone, and sent the carriage back. The place chosen 
 was the Park, which, though pretty well thronged with 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 A DOUBLE KNOT, 
 
 people, seemed to them solitary, as they strolled 
 across toward the Row. 
 
 Gertrude was very silent, for she felt that Renee 
 had something important to say ; but the minutes 
 sped on, and their scattered remarks had been 
 of the most commonplace character, and at last, 
 as she glanced sideways, Gertrude saw that if her 
 sister were to confide her troubles and be the re- 
 cipient of those effervescing in her own breast she 
 herself must speak. 
 
 'You do not confide in me, Renee dear,' she said 
 tenderly, as they took a couple of chairs beneath one 
 of the spreading trees. ' Why do you not always 
 make me more your confidant ? One feels as if one 
 could talk out here in the park, where there are no 
 walls to listen. Come, dear, why do you not tell me 
 all?' 
 
 ' Because I feel that my husband's secrets are in 
 my keeping, and that I should be doing wrong to 
 speak of what he does.^ 
 
 ' Not wrong in confiding in me, Renee. You are 
 not happy. Oh, Ren, Ren, why did you consent ? 
 Trouble, and so soon !'
 
 FAMIL Y MA TTERS, 243 
 
 * Don't talk to me like that, now, Gerty,' cried 
 Renee in a low, passionate voice, ' because it was 
 mamma's will that we should marry well and have 
 establishments, and satisfy her pride. Sometimes 
 I think it would have been better if I had never been 
 born.' 
 
 * Oh, Ren, Ren,' her sister whispered, pressing her 
 hand. ' But Frank — he is kind to you ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Renee sadly ; ' he is never angry with 
 me.' 
 
 ' But I mean kind and loving and attentive, as your 
 husband should be V said Gertrude softly. 
 
 Renee looked at her with a sad, heavy look, and 
 now that the first confidence had been made, her 
 heart was open to her sister. 
 
 ' Gertrude,' she whispered to her, ' he never loved 
 me !' 
 
 ' Oh, Ren dear, think what you are saying !' 
 
 *I do think, dear, and I say it once more. He 
 never loved me.' 
 
 ' But, Renee, you have been kind and loving to 
 him.' 
 
 ' Yes, as tender as a woman could be to the man 
 
 16 — 2
 
 244 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 she had sworn to love ; but he does not care for me, 
 and I am haunted.' 
 
 ' Haunted, Renee !' 
 
 ' Yes ; hush ! Here is Major Malpas.' 
 
 Gertrude glanced in the direction taken by her 
 sister's eyes, and her heart seemed to be compressed 
 as by a cold hand, as she turned indignantly to her 
 sister. 
 
 ' Renee !' she said, in a horrified whisper, ' oh, 
 do not say you care for him still !' 
 
 ' Gertrude !' cried Renee, catching her hand, ' how 
 dare you say that ! I hate — I detest him ! I thought 
 him a gentleman once, and I did love him ; but that 
 was over when I married Frank, and since then he has 
 haunted me ; he follows me everywhere, and Frank 
 makes him his constant companion, and he leads him 
 away.' 
 
 ' Oh, this is dreadful !' 
 
 ' Dreadful !' cried Renee, ' I feel at times that I 
 cannot bear it. Come away : he has seen us, and is 
 coming here.' 
 
 * Is — is that Mr. Huish V whispered Gertrude, 
 gazing in another direction.
 
 FAMIL Y MA TTERS. 245 
 
 ' Yes. Who is the dark lady on his arm ?' 
 ' I do not know,' said Gertrude quietly. * Some 
 friend, perhaps ; but, look, is not that Frank ?' 
 
 She drew her sister's attention towards a phaeton 
 in which Frank Morrison was driving a handsome- 
 looking woman dressed in the height of fashion ; and 
 directly Renee saw him plainly the Major came 
 up. 
 
 * What a delightful meeting, Miss Millet !' he 
 said. ' Mrs. Morrison, I hope I shall not be de 
 trap r 
 
 ' My husband's friends have too great a claim on 
 me,' said Renee quietly, as she left her seat and 
 moved in the direction of her own home ; but she kept 
 glancing in the direction taken by the phaeton. 
 
 It was cleverly managed, and as if Malpas knew 
 exactly when the carriage would next come by, 
 timing his place so well that the sisters were close to 
 the railings as the dashing pair scattered some of the 
 earth over the young wife's dress. 
 
 ' Who is that with Frank Morrison, Major Malpas ?' 
 said Gertrude quickly. 
 
 * I beg your pardon V he said.
 
 246 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 * That fashionably-dressed lady in my brother-in- 
 law's phaeton. There they go.' 
 
 ' Indeed !' said the Major. * I was not looking. 
 Are you sure it was he V 
 
 ' Certain,' replied Gertrude. 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Morrison, is anything the matter ?' 
 cried the Major, with a voice full of sympathy. 
 
 * No, nothing,' said the young wife, who was now 
 deadly pale. ' May I ask you — to leave us T 
 
 ' Yes,' he said earnestly ; ' but I shall not go. Pray 
 take my arm. Miss Millet, your sister is ill. I fear 
 you have been imprudent and have taxed her 
 strength. I must see her safely home, or I could not 
 face Morrison again.' 
 
 ' He haunts me !' thought Gertrude to herself, as 
 she recalled her sister's words, and found that the 
 Major persisted in walking by her side till they 
 reached Chesham Place, where, murmuring his satis- 
 faction that Renee seemed better, he left the sisters 
 in the hall. 
 
 ' All things come to the man who waits,' he mut- 
 tered to himself, as he went off smiling. 
 
 ' Renee,' said Gertrude, as soon as they were alone,
 
 FA JUL V MA TIERS. 247 
 
 ' have you ever encouraged him in any way since 
 your marriage ? How is it he seems to have such a 
 hold upon you ?' 
 
 ' I do not know — I cannot tell/ said Renee wearily, 
 as, with brow contracted, she sat thinking of the scene 
 in the Park. ' But do not mention him — do not think 
 of him, Gertrude dear ; he is as nothing in face of 
 this new misery.' 
 
 • New misery T said Gertrude innocently. 
 
 ' Yes,' cried Renee passionately ; ' do you not see ? 
 Oh, Frank, Frank !' she moaned, ' why do you treat 
 me so?' 
 
 Gertrude, upon whom all this came like a revelation, 
 strove to comfort her, and to point out that her fears 
 might be mere exaggerations, but her sister turned 
 sharply. 
 
 'You do not understand these things, Gertrude,' 
 she said. ' He does not love me as he should, and, 
 knowing this, Major Malpas has never ceased to try 
 and tempt him away from me — to the clubs — to 
 gambling parties, from which he comes home hot and 
 feverish ; and now it seems that worse is to follow. 
 Oh, mother, mother ! you have secured me an estab-
 
 248 A DOUBLE KNOT. 
 
 lishment which I would gladly change for the 
 humblest cottage, if it contained my husband's faith- 
 ful love/ 
 
 Gertrude's heart beat fast at these words, and a 
 falteri ^ purpose became strengthened. 
 
 * But, Ren darling,' she whispered ; ' have you 
 spoken to him and tried to win him from such 
 associations ? Frank is so good at heart.' 
 
 ' Yes,' sighed Renee ; ' but so weak and easily led 
 away. Spoken to him, Gertrude? No, dear. As his 
 wife, I have felt that I must ignore such things. I 
 would not know that he visited such places — that he 
 gambled — that he returned home excited. I have 
 put all such thoughts aside, and met him always with 
 the same smile of welcome, when my heart has been 
 well-nigh broken.' 
 
 ' My poor sister !' whispered Gertrude, drawing her 
 head to her breast and thinking of the husband and 
 establishment that her mother had arranged for her 
 to possess. 
 
 ' But this I feel that I cannot bear,' cried Renee 
 impetuously. ' It is too great an outrage !' 
 
 *0h, Ren, Ren !' whispered Gertrude, 'do not judge
 
 FAMIL Y MA TIERS. 249 
 
 him t'^o rashly ; wait and see — it may be all a mis- 
 take.' 
 
 ' Mistake :' said Renee bitterly ; ' did you not see 
 him driving that woman out ? Did you not see her 
 occupying the place that should be mine?' 
 
 '■ Yes — yes,' faltered Gertrude ; ' but still there may 
 be some explanation.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Renee at last, as she dried her tears and 
 sat up, looking very cold and stern ; ' there may be, 
 and we will wait and see. At all events, I will not 
 say one single harsh word.' 
 
 Gertrude left her at last quite calm and composed, 
 the brougham being ordered for her use, and she sat 
 back thinking of John Huish with the dark lady ; but 
 only to smile, for no jealous fancy troubled her 
 breast. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.