f ^ w%^ ^^ 
 
a I B RAFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVERSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 8^3 
 V\A7r\ 
 
 V. I 
 
NO COMPROMISE 
 
Bv the same Authors. 
 
 PAUL NUGENT, MATERIALIST. 
 By Helen F. H ether ington, and the 
 Rev. H. D. Burton. Cheap edition, 
 crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. Picture 
 boards, -zs. 
 
 "We would willingly exchange 'Paul Nugent' 
 for all the sermons and all the letters to newspapers 
 which ' Robert Elsmere' called forth. It is meet- 
 ing the book on its own ground and fighting it 
 with its own weapons." — Church Review. 
 
 " A readable and interesting story, with a great 
 deal of sound religious instruction in it, a whole- 
 some moral and a happy end. The chief merit of 
 the book is a certain straightforward simplicity and 
 matter-of-factness in the light of which characters 
 stand out with distinctness." — Guardian. 
 
 " There can be no question as to the tolerance 
 and breadth of view displayed by the joint authors 
 in treating the important subjects of their interest- 
 ing work."— Morning Post. 
 
 Griffith Farran & Co., Limited, London. 
 
NO COMPROMISE 
 
 BY 
 
 HELEN F. HETHERINGTON 
 
 AND THE 
 
 REV. DARWIN BURTON 
 
 AUTHORS OF 
 "PAUL NUGENT, MATERIALIST" 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 GRIFFITH FARRAN & CO., Limited 
 
 NEWBERY HOUSE, 39 CHARING CROSS ROAD 
 1892 
 
[The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are Reserved.'] 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 PROLOGUE— MEETING AT THE "MINER'S REST" . I 
 
 I. A RETURN TO CIVILISATION . . . , -43 
 
 II. HOME ... 56 
 
 III. "THIS' NEW man" 69 
 
 IV. A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE . . . . 80 
 V. THE UPAS TREE 95 
 
 VI. PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD IO9 
 
 VII. THE RECTOR SPEAKS HIS MIND . . . . I23 
 
 ^ VIII. TAKING CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S PROPERTY . 135 
 
 be 
 
 ^ IX. PRAYER-BOOK PARADE I49 
 
 A SPECIMEN OP MODERN SOCIETY . • . . . 164 
 
 v2 
 
 XI. A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 1 75 
 
 ^ 
 
 XII. " ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT " I95 
 
 IIL AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 209 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGK 
 
 XIV. A WATEK-PARTY 226 
 
 XV. " BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY '' . . . 244 
 
 XVI. OBSTRUCTION BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION . . 255 
 
 XVII. THE PARISH OF ST. MARY'S, DAINTON . . . 275 
 
NO COMPROMISE 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 THE MEETING AT THE " MINEr's REST." 
 
 A PRETTY, low, one-storied house, with quaint 
 gables and corners, half buried in creepers; 
 built on the side of a gentle slope, and set 
 like a gem in a wealth of flowering shrubs 
 and dark green foliage. Behind it stood a 
 grand maple, towering up and stretching out 
 protecting arms over the low roof, adding 
 further shade to that of the veranda, which 
 almost surrounded the house. In front there 
 was a garden, more like a blooming wilderness 
 on which Nature had lavished all her glories of 
 vivid colouring, than a garden overlooked by the 
 eye of man. Here and there a winding walk 
 
 VOL. I. A 
 
2 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 appeared between the shrubs, gleamed and 
 passed again into shade. Beyond the garden 
 and the undulating meadow-land, dotted with 
 fine trees, casting deep shadows in the fierce 
 Virginian sunlight, and affording grateful 
 shelter to lazy cattle, the eye caught the glint 
 of a quiet, deep river, winding through the 
 valley ; and, further still, the blue outline of 
 a distant range of hills. A place of perfect 
 rest ; a very land of dreams ! 
 
 In keeping with this quiet scene there were 
 three men lounging in the coolness of the 
 veranda. One of them was young — apparently 
 about six-and-twenty, carefully dressed in an 
 obviously English suit of light grey. A man 
 hardly to be described as handsome, and yet 
 Jack Montague was of sufficiently striking 
 appearance — tall and well made, with strong 
 arms, and large, fair hands, indicative of 
 strength both of will and purpose ; a head well 
 set on broad, square shoulders, with thick, 
 light hair, which in boyhood must have been 
 golden ; a broad forehead, with a habit of 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST" 3 
 
 contracting itself quickly into deep furrows ; 
 eyebrows running into one another, and meet- 
 ing over a nose which was prominent, but by no 
 means straight, the mouth hidden by a crisp, 
 soldierly moustache, and strong, somewhat 
 heavy jaw and chin. An English face, bold 
 and yet refined, made eloquent by the eyes, 
 which were really blue, with lashes a shade 
 darker than his hair ; eyes set rather wide 
 apart, which looked straight at any one to 
 whom their owner spoke. They were quiet 
 enough in repose — good-humoured, gentle, and 
 honest, but capable of very sudden transitions, 
 quickly flashing into anger, altering the whole 
 face in a moment, and at such a moment 
 dangerous eyes indeed. At Cambridge, among 
 his intimate friends, Montague had been known 
 as a man whom it would be safer not to " rag." 
 On one memorable occasion, when a practical 
 joker, confident in his own strength, after 
 trying in vain to rouse his sleeping temper by 
 foolish chaff*, presumed to make some facetious 
 remarks about a photograph lying on the 
 
4 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 table, he was astonished to find himself caught 
 in a grasp of iron, bodily lifted from the 
 ground, and hurled down upon the floor with 
 a force from which it took him many days to 
 recover, whilst over him stood Montague, 
 with an ugly light flashing from his usually 
 gentle eyes, and his whole face transformed as 
 only a violent temper suddenly let loose could 
 change it. Sorry enough he was a moment 
 after, and full of remorse, which found expres- 
 sion later on in reckless generosity towards 
 the object of his anger. As he grew older 
 these outbreaks of passion became rarer ; but 
 his friends soon learnt that it was the reverse 
 of wise to go too far with him, for it did not 
 require much knowledge of character to guess 
 that behind that generous face, with its 
 pleasant smile, there lurked a temper by no 
 means to be trifled with. 
 
 The companion sitting next him was a vastly 
 diflerent man — tall, lithe, with long arms out 
 of all proportion to his bodj^, a narrow face, 
 by no means ugly, considered liandsome by 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST" 5 
 
 many, and by none more implicitly than 
 himself; eyes small and set close together; 
 nose straight and decidedly aristocratic ; a 
 cruel mouth, always moving quickly and 
 nervously like his eyes ; altogether an untrust- 
 worthy face, with a generally hard expression. 
 His laugh was forced, whilst his voice was 
 rather high, and he talked fast in jerky 
 sentences. 
 
 Dick Moseley had once been the pride of a 
 loving mother, and many a prayer had been 
 offered by her to heaven when he first started 
 for the University. He had begun in a good 
 set 9,t Trinity College, Cambridge, and had 
 not been unpopular, for his culpable idleness 
 and inordinate love of excitement, which led 
 to his sitting up night after night playing 
 loo till the small hours, were easily condoned 
 by his friends. There were whispers, even in 
 those early days, that he had a most enviable 
 knack of never losing, yet no one could say 
 that he had been anything but honest in play. 
 
 Afterwards, when he lived faster ?nd played 
 
6 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 deeper, these whispers grew louder. His 
 friends in London were ill-chosen, for the 
 most part men whom it was counted unwise 
 to play with. But even then he was never 
 caught tripping ; still, the better class of men 
 grew shy of him, and he dropped further and 
 further out of good society, till at last he 
 found it advisable to go. And so, with a little 
 spare cash and plenty of wit, he started for 
 America. For five years he wandered from 
 place to place, always with some fresh scheme 
 in his head, now running a pleasure-garden 
 with varied attractions for holiday-folk of a 
 certain stamp, or a flash hotel where gambling 
 went on from morning till morning, or editing 
 a paper, or starting a tram-line. Excitement 
 and speculation were the atmosphere of his 
 life. For the last six months he had been 
 hard at work trying to launch a switchback 
 railway ; and, whilst engaged in this congenial 
 occupation, he met with Montague, who hailed 
 him with delight, glad to see a face he knew 
 in a country where all faces were strange. On 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' 7 
 
 many occasions the two men dined together, 
 and Moseley was able to give Montague much 
 useful information about the business he had 
 in hand. They had many a good talk over 
 old Cambridge pranks, in which both had 
 participated, until some sort of spurious 
 friendship was established between them ; 
 although no two men could be imagined who 
 were more unlike. Their tastes were verj^ 
 different, except for the one characteristic they 
 had in common — namely, a deep-rooted love 
 of sport. But it is wonderful how firmly 
 mutual reminiscence of happy days will bind 
 two opposites together in a strange country. 
 The casual acquaintance of the past being 
 magnified instead of lessened by distance was 
 responsible for the fact that Moseley and 
 Montague were sitting side by side in that 
 peaceful spot, engaged in friendly conversation 
 with their host, Eobert Stansfield. 
 
 Stansfield had left the old country several 
 years before, and in due course married a 
 Virginian lady of great beauty, and not too 
 
8 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 narrow means. He was thoroughly content 
 with his wife, his only daughter, his home, 
 and himself — a wise man, and, added to that, 
 a perfect gentleman. He was short, thick-set, 
 and sturdy, with a quaint, grave, and honest 
 face. He was characteristically dressed in a 
 broad-brimmed shady hat, a coloured shirt, and 
 flannel trousers tucked into wide jack-boots, 
 an old Norfolk shooting-jacket open in front 
 — for the best of all reasons, because the 
 buttons had gone — the very incarnation of 
 careless ease. For many yeais he had been a 
 staunch friend of the Montagues, though 
 separated from them by the Atlantic, and he 
 was now delighted to have Jack — the son of 
 his old friend, long since dead — a guest in his 
 house. It was not only pleasure, or even the 
 wish to make acquaintance with Bob Stans- 
 field, of whom he had heard so much from his 
 mother, that had brought Jack Montague out 
 to America, but family business. 
 
 For many generations the Montagues had 
 possessed lands in Virginia — at one time of 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST" 9 
 
 considerable extent, as proved by ancient deeds, 
 but the greater part of these were disposed 
 of until only a small estate was left. 
 
 At his father's death this estate came into 
 Mrs. Montague's hands, and for some years 
 she worked it through agents at a consider- 
 able loss, until her solicitor advised her to sell 
 the place and invest the money in English 
 securities. Jack was delighted to have the op- 
 portunity of visiting America, and hoped to con- 
 clude the business in a month ; but when week 
 after week went by and the matter seemed no 
 nearer completion, he began to learn what was 
 meant by " the law's delay." Every obstacle, 
 possible and impossible, was laid in his way, 
 whilst Montague scolded and chafed, solacing 
 himself meanwhile with the society and 
 hospitality of Bob Stansfield and his pretty 
 wife — a lot which he found by no means hard. 
 Everything was new to him ; the life, so free 
 and natural, was just to his taste, and with 
 a good horse to ride, and lately plenty of 
 flappers to shoot, he coald resign himself to 
 
lo NO COMPROMISE 
 
 any amount of delay on the part of 
 Lawyer Sharpe and his colleagues. And 
 when at last he held in his hand a blue paper 
 entitled, *' This indenture, dated, &c." — the 
 conveyance of his mother's property, signed, 
 sealed, and delivered — it was with mingled 
 feelings of jo}^ and regret— joy that the 
 business was well over, regret that his happy 
 visit to Grange Farm had come to an end. 
 
 Eobert Stansfield had ridden into town that 
 morning with Montague, in order to see him 
 bank the five thousand pounds realised by the 
 property, and meeting Dick Moseley on the 
 way out, had promptly asked him to ride over 
 and dine, promising him a welcome and a 
 shake-down after bachelor fashion. Mrs. 
 Stansfield and her daughter Yerena had gone 
 the day before on a short visit to her old 
 home, whither her husband was to follow her 
 as soon as he had sped the parting guest. 
 
 " Well, Montague, I congratulate you on 
 the completion of your business,'' said Stans- 
 field, heartily, " and let me tell you, you've 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' ii 
 
 done uncommonly well to screw so much out 
 of that old flint, Sharpe, not but what I owe 
 him thanks for keeping you prisoner in my 
 dull house." 
 
 " Very good of you to say so, dear old man, 
 and upon my word I forgive him all, for I've 
 never enjoyed myself so much before. But, 
 my goodness, the obstinacy of that confounded 
 lawyer ! A pig's a fool to hira." 
 
 *'You didn't half rush him," broke in 
 Moseley. " He was only holding on to see 
 how much he could beat you down — ^you 
 should have stuck to the seven thou'. I 
 would, I know." 
 
 " Yes, and you would still have been pulling 
 at the pig's leg, without the ghost of a hope 
 of getting him over the stile." 
 
 '' Well, I've heard people say he's a clever 
 man, and what's better still — an honest lawyer," 
 rejoined Stansfield. 
 
 "Honest he may be. I won't take his 
 character away," replied Jack ; *' but his clever- 
 ness I don't believe in. Never met a man 
 
12 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 before so hopelessly ignorant of ordinary 
 matters, and yet he thinks himself cleverer 
 than any one else — other lawyers included. 
 However, I don't care so long as the mater's 
 satisfied/' 
 
 " I'll bet you ten to one the solicitor isn't, 
 if she is," said Moseley. " Any way, let us 
 drink the old bufter's health. I've no quarrel 
 with him. I won twenty dollars from him 
 in the club the other night, which nearly 
 gave him a fit. And Jingo ! Stansfield, your 
 roads are dusty. M}^ throat's like a lime- 
 kiln." 
 
 " Generally is," muttered Bob, as he shouted 
 for Sambo, his factotum. "Now, then, what 
 is it to be P What do you say, Montague ? " 
 
 " I say with Byron, ' The future is a serious 
 matter; so let's have hock and soda-water.' 
 Not a perfect quotation, but as good as the 
 original." 
 
 " And you, Moseley ? " 
 
 " A dash of brandy for me ; none of your 
 hock — beastly, insipid, tasteless stuff." 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' 13 
 
 "Sambo, 111 follow Mr. Montague — two 
 hocks, one brandy, three sodas — quick; and 
 plenty of ice. Have a weed? No? Well, 
 then, pass the case to Moseley. I can't think 
 how you can smoke those futile cigarettes. 
 It's a bad habit, but each man to his taste. 
 I tell you what, Monty, you will be grilled 
 by the time you reach the Eockies — if this 
 weather lasts. What are you going to do 
 when you get there ? " 
 
 " You had better ask Moseley. I'm in his 
 hands. He tells me there is plenty of sport. 
 Deer, grizzlies, mountain lions, all sorts of 
 small game, and a chance of adventures with 
 marauding Indians, who might take a fancy 
 to such an ornamental scalp as mine. They 
 wouldn't be able to get hold of much on 
 Moseley's head." 
 
 " No, that's so ; and I've a notion it would 
 be awkward to try. I've a knack of shooting 
 sharp. By the way, Montague, have you got 
 a pocket-gun amongst your battery ? " 
 
 " Do you mean a six-shooter or a Derringer ? 
 
14 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 If the former, yes, I have, but a jolly sight 
 too big to carry in my pocket. If the latter, 
 no, and I don't intend to have it. I've no 
 wish to end my life abruptly through an 
 infernal machine going off inside my waist- 
 coat. Besides, I've no more belief in Indians 
 than in family ghosts." 
 
 " No," said Moseley, dryly, " no more have 
 I ; and a Derringer wouldn't be of much use 
 if I had. But I've known such a thing as a 
 white man considering himself insulted, and 
 evincing a most uncomfortable desire to drill 
 a hole through the body of the first man that 
 came handy. Personally, I prefer to do the 
 drilling myself — it saves discomfort.^' 
 
 Montague watched the smoke of his cigar- 
 ette curling round a blossom of the passion- 
 flower over his head, as he said slowly, " It 
 takes a long time to shake off insular prejudice, 
 but to me it seems the reverse of manly, just 
 because you take offence at what is said, to 
 pop at a man with a confounded little pistol 
 through your trousers pocket, or to shoot him 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' 15 
 
 in the back, as I read of some blackguard 
 doing in the States the other day. Brute ! 
 I'd treat him as a murderer, and hang him 
 like a dog.'' 
 
 " Yes, if you caught him ; but what would 
 you do if the fellow started shooting, and you 
 couldn^t return it ? " 
 
 " Do ? By Jove ! if he missed me, I'd 
 make it rough for him/' And his blue eyes 
 blazed at the very idea. 
 
 " I'm entirely of your opinion, Montague," 
 Stansfield said heartily. " Thank goodness, 
 the insolent bully who used to be so common 
 in this country is an almost extinct species. 
 Doubtless, there are men of this sort still left, 
 but it's not likely that you will meet with 
 them. They are generally broken-down 
 gamblers, who have become reckless ; and 
 they are mostly to be found in low gambling 
 hells in the Far West, or in the slums of our 
 great cities. I hate the habit of carrying 
 arms — every drunken young fool becomes a 
 public danger. By-the-by, I have asked a 
 
i6 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 man to meet you to-night who could tell you 
 strange tales of those early wild days. There's 
 hardly an Indian scrimmage he has not had a 
 finger in, for he's death on redskins — and 
 no wonder. His whole life was ruined by 
 them, and they say he has killed more than 
 any man living. He is a nailing shot with 
 rifle or pistol — and Octavius Slocumbe is 
 altogether a typical frontier-man, with all his 
 virtues, and very few of his vices." 
 
 " Slocumbe, did you say ? " asked Moseley, 
 looking up quickly. 
 
 " Yes ; do you know him ? " 
 
 " No — that is — I know his name, and if 
 you want to hear all particulars of sport in 
 the Rockies, now's your chance. The old 
 chap has spent most of his life at it, and if we 
 can only get him to talk, which is difficult, 
 he will keep us amused and astonished for 
 hours." 
 
 '* By Jove, just the man I want to see. 
 Where did you meet him, Moseley ? " 
 
 " Meet him ? Who says I ever met him ? 
 
MEETING AT THE "MINER'S REST" 17 
 
 IVe heard about him often enough, that's 
 all," he said carelessly. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Whilst they were talking of him, Octavius 
 Slocumbe was carelessly cantering a raw-boned 
 thoroughbred up the dusty road. He was a 
 small wiry man, with a natural stoop from 
 the shoulders, so often to be seen in those who 
 are constantly in the saddle. His broad- 
 brimmed hat shaded a thin, sunburnt face, 
 with sunken cheeks, a prominent, slightly 
 hooked nose, a red-brown moustache which 
 entirely covered his mouth ; thick bushy eye- 
 brows, once red, but now tinged with grey; 
 deep-set, small, light grey eyes, full of life 
 and movement, round which the bird of time 
 had left deep footprints. The whole face was 
 furrowed in strange lines and creases, and 
 marked indelibly with the stamp which is 
 only placed by Nature on those, whose life 
 has been exposed to the buffets of her storms, 
 as well as to the heat of her smiles. 
 
 His existence from babyhood had been one 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
t8 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 long series ot adventures. His father, one of 
 the foremost pioneers of the Far West, had 
 been killed and scalped by a party of maraud- 
 ing Sioux, and his mother with her infant son 
 had only escaped the same fate by a miracle. 
 His first recollections were of the rolling 
 prairie, the vast herds of buffaloes, the wild 
 free life of a settler's home. He used to 
 boast that he had been born on a horse with 
 a rifle in his hand ; and when only twelve 
 years old he had broken through a line of 
 Indians, and saved a whole caravan of emi- 
 grants from destruction by bringing a detach- 
 ment of soldiers to their rescue. His mother 
 was the daughter of an English journalist, 
 who had persuaded his wife in a weak moment 
 to run away from home, and share his fortunes 
 in America — fortunes which came to an abrupt 
 end through a bullet fired by a drunken 
 digger, through a bar window. She died 
 when her boy was fifteen, and left him nothing 
 but her blessing, the memory of her holy life 
 and devoted love, and a Bible containing a 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' 19 
 
 paper descriptive of her own family and their 
 place of abode in England. He treasured the 
 book with a devotion almost amounting to 
 superstition — a devotion which turned up 
 trumps for him when, about thirty years later, 
 a letter reached him addressed to " O. Slocumbe, 
 Esqre., Scout in U.S. Army," informing him 
 that if he was the son of Octavius B. Slo- 
 cumbe, who married Nellie Wilder, daughter 
 of James Wilder, Esqre., journalist, and 
 would apply to a well-known firm of London 
 solicitors, he might hear of something to his 
 advantage. And so, armed with his Bible 
 and the memory of his mother, he crossed 
 " the streak of water," and, after much trouble 
 and vexation, together with the consumption 
 of an infinite number of cigars, found himself 
 the possessor of a small income, as well as of 
 some house property in a provincial town, and 
 a pretty cottage on the banks of the Dervvent. 
 The houses he disposed of to the highest 
 bidder, the cottage he let to the first tenant 
 that made him an offer, and then hurried back 
 
20 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 to recruit his shattered nerves in the land of 
 his heart, which contained his mother's grave, 
 and those of his wife and baby-daughter. 
 
 The old scout met with a cordial welcome 
 when he pulled up in front of the Grange, and 
 underwent a severe cross-examination as to 
 his recent visit to England, and the good luck 
 which had befallen him there. He declared 
 that he could get no fresh air in the old 
 country. So many people were crammed into 
 so small a space, that it could only be had 
 second-hand — a state of affairs which by no 
 means suited him ; but he allowed, with an 
 apologetic glance at Jack, that he had no 
 doubt that even a used-ap atmosphere might, 
 under favourable circumstances, produce some 
 fine specimens of mankind. 
 
 Jack laughingly assured him that he had 
 not grown at all until after his advent into 
 the freshness and purity of the American 
 atmosphere, but that during the last three 
 or four weeks he had thriven to such an 
 alarming extent, that he was afraid to go 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' 21 
 
 home lest his own mother should not re- 
 cognise him. 
 
 At this moment Sambo came to inform 
 them, with much dignity, that dinner was 
 served, and the four friends were soon hard at 
 work with knife and fork. Throughout dinner 
 the conversation turned on sport in the 
 Rockies, and Jack Montague w^as not a little 
 annoyed to find that Moseley's and Slocumbe's 
 accounts scarcely coincided. However, he 
 was consoled when he heard that there were 
 still plenty of mountain lions, wild goats. 
 wapiti, and a few grizzlies, the latter being 
 nearly extinct in Montana territory, along the 
 Upper Yellowstone, and further west, in 
 California. A good guide must be procured, 
 and much time and trouble expended in 
 finding and following the game, which Jack 
 was thoroughly prepared to give, so he took 
 heart. The scout gave him most valuable 
 information about the country, and the battery 
 which was requisite for sporting purposes. 
 The dangers from Indians he considered as ^^^7, 
 
22 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 with proper precaution. Most accidents of a 
 fatal character happened because of the reckless 
 choice of companions in a country where life 
 is held cheap, and the Derringer was often the 
 only argument used to carry conviction. 
 
 When dinner was over and cigars were 
 lighted, Moseley sauntered out on to the 
 veranda, and called Montague to come and 
 play ecarte. 
 
 '•' When do they start, Stansfield ? " asked 
 Slocumbe. 
 
 *' To-morrow — up to New York — then right 
 away West to Utah, to see the Salt Lake 
 City, if they don't go to the Upper Yellow- 
 stone Mountains after your description." 
 
 " Is that Moseley going with him ? " 
 
 " Yes. Why ? Do you know anything of 
 him ? " 
 
 " Well, I reckon I rubbed up against him 
 out West in Sacramento, and if it was me — I 
 should prefer a rattlesnake for a pard." 
 
 " Tm sorry to hear it. I can't stand the 
 chap myself — drinks too much, and plays too 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST" 23 
 
 high. I shall certainly warn Montague before 
 he starts. Thank goodness, he's no fool. 
 Where are you wandering off to, old lad ? " 
 
 '* Wal, I've business in Wyoming County, 
 and shall kinder worry round California till I 
 get used to being a man of property. After 
 that, Lord knows where I shall go ; maybe 
 back to England to get polished. Anyway, I 
 guess I'll look you up next spring. Let's go 
 and watch the play." 
 
 The two men were evidently intent on their 
 game, and scarcely noticed the others as they 
 moved out on to the veranda to watch them. 
 
 Montague was just scoring. 
 
 " That's fifty," said Moseley. 
 
 "No, it's not — only forty-five," rejoined 
 Montague. "It's as well to be accurate." 
 
 " Ah ! I beg pardon, so it is. Forty-five. 
 My deal." 
 
 "Cards?" 
 
 " I mark the king, and play." 
 
 " Well, I'm shot. You always mark the 
 king. You've the luck of the devil ! " 
 
24 NO COMPROMfSE 
 
 Slocumbe, who had been standing in the 
 window, now moved and leant against one of 
 the slender iron supports of the veranda, im- 
 mediately behind Moseley. The latter just 
 glanced round, and went on playing. The 
 play proceeded, but with a different result, for 
 the king no longer favoured Moseley to the 
 same extent, and at the end of an hour 
 Montague had won five dollars. 
 
 " Oh, I'm sick of this,'' exclaimed Moseley, 
 throwing away the stump of his cigar, " let us 
 stop. I hate playing in the dark, and I detest 
 any one looking over my hand. It makes me 
 nervous." 
 
 " I should hardly have thought it, with your 
 practice," remarked the scout, not moving from 
 his position. 
 
 Moseley turned sharply round, with the 
 intention of saying something unpleasant, but 
 as he encountered the steady gaze of the scout's 
 little piercing eyes he thought better of it, and 
 sweeping up his money, slipped it into his 
 pocket. Shortly afterwards, having refused the 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST 25 
 
 proffered shake-down, and made all final ar- 
 rangements about the morrow's start, he bade 
 his host good-night, and rode off home. 
 
 Before Jack went to his room, Stansfield took 
 the opportunity of speaking to him about his 
 projected trip, and, whilst wishing him all 
 manner of good luck and good sport, warned 
 him not to be too intimate with Moseley. 
 " Mind you," he said, " I have nothing against 
 the man, only I know that I don't like him, 
 and Slocumbe let slip a hint to me to-night 
 that he is, to say the least, a doubtful sort to 
 have for a pard in any undertaking. The 
 scout's not a man to speak without reason, so 
 you watch it, and if he isn't straight, cut 
 adrift. If you take my advice, you'll not play 
 too much with the fellow either, for there's 
 nothing breeds ill-will sooner than cards, 
 especially if the play is not quite on the 
 square." 
 
 Then, with many protestations of good-will, 
 the two men parted for the night. 
 
26 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 In all the range of the Eocky Mountains 
 there is perhaps no scenery so grand, so 
 completely overwhelming, as that of the Upper 
 Yellowstone, Montana Territory. Vast forests 
 of pine, storm-swept, dark and sullen, clothe 
 the lower slopes with thick, tangled under- 
 growth of dank grass and hardy thorn — piled 
 high in some parts with the fallen trunks of 
 former giants, now rotting on the ground, 
 forming a wild wilderness of decaying wood 
 and vegetation — a place of dread where the 
 fierce mountain-lion prowled at night. In the 
 days long ago the Indian moved through these 
 silent forests, with bated breath, in fear lest 
 some hideous form should suddenly rush forth 
 from the dark shades, and strike him dead for 
 daring to venture into these solitary haunts. 
 Superstition vanished before the pale-fiiced 
 pioneers of civilisation, who, through untold 
 dangers and unimagined difficulties — with axe, 
 rifle, and their own indomitable pluck, cut 
 broad tracks through the forest, mastered the 
 intricacies of the rocky passes — braved the 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST" 27 
 
 cold blasts of snow and sleet — passed clean 
 over the gloomy range into the rich land 
 beyond to catch the gold-fever which sent men 
 mad, and turned even the noblest hearted into 
 wild beasts, until in all that favoured land no 
 law was known but that of force and fraud. 
 
 Half-way up one of these rough passes, hewn 
 by those pioneers of fortune across the moun- 
 tains, a narrow bridle-path branches off through 
 the woods, winds in and out the huge rocks 
 tumbled from the mountain's side, gradually 
 ascending until, at about five thousand feet 
 above the level of the plain, it leads to a valley 
 cleft in the very heart of the range by some 
 throe of Nature, and known to the trapper and 
 sportsman as the " Yalley of Death." Many 
 years before, one of the earliest adventurers 
 had struck the deep canon whilst wandering 
 about in search of furs, and built himself a 
 house, calling the valley — so silent, deep, and 
 hidden from the world — the "Valley of Sleep," 
 his log-hut the " Hunter's Rest." It was safe 
 from Nature's storms, sheltered by a granite 
 
28 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 wall, which rose sheer into the sky, far above 
 his shanty; yet not safe from the savage cruelty 
 of Indian braves. Eeturning one spring morn- 
 ing from visiting his traps, he found his "Valley 
 of Sleep " changed into the " Valley of Death," 
 his log-hut burnt, his wife and baby-daughter 
 dead — dead after what shame, what torture, 
 only those who know the Indian^s cruelty can 
 imagine. It was a sad end to innocence and 
 happiness ; an end, alas ! too common in that 
 blood-stained land. Years passed, then came 
 the rush for gold across the mountains. Once 
 more the trail was followed, and the valley 
 found. Another shanty rose on the ashes ol 
 the trapper's log-hut — rough and rude enough 
 as to its build, but somewhat larger. It was 
 called the " Miner's Kest," and for a time the 
 place was filled by rough men in search of the 
 yellow ore, and loud curses and coarse oaths 
 defiled the air, where all before had been peace 
 and love. Then the gold fever swept further 
 west, and the valle}^ was quieter, though not 
 entirely deserted. Wandering miners rested 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST" 29 
 
 there, and sportsmen who had come to shoot 
 the canon, and sometimes " Eoad Agents," after 
 more daring exploits than usual, would find 
 safe harbour there from the tedious justice 
 of the law, or the far swifter retribution of 
 "Vigilance Committees." And here, after eight 
 weeks of " loafing," Dick Moseley and Jack 
 Montague arrived, intent on hunting out the 
 mountain-lion in his home, and shooting what- 
 ever other game the valley might afford. 
 
 Things had not gone well, and Jack's 
 patience was almost exhausted. From the very 
 beginning Stansfield's warnings proved true. 
 Playing and drinking seemed essential to 
 Moseley, until they reached a pitch beyond 
 Montague's endurance. The long-expected 
 row nearly broke out in Salt Lake City, for 
 the further west he got the more dangerous 
 and disreputable he seemed to be ; but Jack, 
 ever generous, still hoped that once away in 
 the mountains of Montana, far from the black- 
 guard companions he was so familiar with in 
 the towns, Dick Mosele}/ might prove a decent 
 
30 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 companion and a good sportsman. After a fort- 
 night's stay at the " Miner's Eest," Montague 
 had to confess himself disappointed. Only four 
 days before two doubtful-looking characters 
 had put up at the shanty, and though at first 
 Moseley seemed to know nothing about them, 
 Jack's suspicions were soon aroused by the 
 surreptitious looks of recognition which passed 
 between him and them. One of the strangers 
 was a typical adventurer who might be any- 
 thing — road agent or miner, black, dirty, and 
 noisy. The other was an older man, with a 
 foxy, cunning face — if not so savage, none the 
 less dangerous. On this especial day, Moseley 
 excused himself from shooting, pleading a 
 headache and general indisposition. 
 
 " Then you shouldn't drink so much," said 
 Jack, in a tone of disgust. " What the deuce 
 is the use of trying to shoot if you are always 
 drinking and playing ? I heard you up at 
 three o'clock with those precious rufiians, 
 laughing and swearing as if you were one of 
 them. You'll be getting shot." 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' 31 
 
 "If you talk so loud, you are more likely 
 to get shot than I." 
 
 " Well, I've about had enough of you, and 
 them, and the whole business," rejoined Jack, 
 as he strode away. 
 
 Moseley stood still looking after Montague, 
 with a by no means tender expression in his 
 shifty eyes, as his broad shoulders moved 
 slowly up the pass. 
 
 " Tired, are you — you fool ! '' he broke out 
 with sudden rage. " I wish you would tumble 
 and break your neck." 
 
 When Montague was out of sight, Moseley 
 walked slowly into the shanty; calling for 
 something to drink, he passed through the 
 first room, which served him and Jack as bed 
 and sitting-room in one, and opened a door 
 leading into a smaller compartment, in which 
 the two aforesaid worthies were attempting to 
 cure splitting headaches by the homoeopathic 
 method of taking a hair of the dog that bit them. 
 
 Meanwhile Jack, who was in far too ruffled 
 a mood to shoot, strolled on till he came to an 
 
32 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 inviting rock, shaded by a huge fir. Here he 
 lit a pipe and sat down to cogitate. The 
 memory of the last eight weeks passed through 
 his mind, and he came to the conclusion not 
 only that they were weeks to be regretted, if 
 not to be ashamed of, but that he must part 
 from Moseley without delay ; Stansfield's 
 warning against play with him had been dis- 
 regarded, and he owed him $300, besides 
 having paid him a considerable sum in ready 
 money. Added to this, he was almost certain, 
 though he could not prove it, that he had 
 lost his money by doubtful play. Anyhow 
 he would pay his debt and get out of it, if 
 possible, without a row ; but " if the little 
 skunk is impudent, by Jove ! I'll shake the 
 life out of him." 
 
 Having come to this resolution, he retraced 
 his steps, in order to put it into immediate 
 effect. The sun shone brightly, the whole 
 valley was bathed in light, which alternated 
 with deep shadows thrown down below by 
 trees and rocks, whilst, far above, peak beyond 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST' 33 
 
 peak, " stood up and took the morning/' He 
 stopped to look at the view; peaceful and 
 lovely, it struck in with his mood and helped 
 him. How could he breathe this pure atmos- 
 phere in the companionship of a foul-mouthed 
 drunkard and card- sharper, in the disguise of a 
 gentleman? With a grunt of dissatisfaction, 
 as he thought of his own life during the past 
 weeks, he turned down the pass towards the 
 " Miner's Rest," determined to settle the busi- 
 ness and finish it off. He came through the 
 veranda into his room, and putting his " ex- 
 press " on the table, sat down to think over 
 what he was going to say, rather relieved to 
 find that Moseley was not there to receive him. 
 The next minute, the sound of voices raised in 
 anger came to him through the thin partition ; 
 but it was no case of eavesdropping, for the 
 voices forced themselves upon his ear. Evi- 
 dently it was the end of a conversation between 
 Moseley and his choice friends that he over- 
 heard, for the black miner was saying, or 
 rather shouting : 
 
 vol,. I. c 
 
34 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "Oh, ye can talk, and talk mighty foin, but 
 it won't do. Ye don't suppose that we corned 
 all this way into these mountains to 'ear ye 
 talk, do ye? Money we wants, and money 
 well ave. 
 
 Then a quieter voice, '' Don't make so much 
 noise, pard, Mr. Moseley promised, and no 
 doubt he'll " 
 
 "Mr. Moseley will do just as he likes," said 
 Moseley himself, " whether you make a noise 
 or not, and he is not likely to be bullied here, 
 any more than in Utah." 
 
 '' Who talks o' bullyin'? You said you would 
 skin that greenhorn, and I guess you've 'ad 
 time enough. Why don't ye shoot the fool ? " 
 
 " Thank you, I'll leave that to you ; only 
 don't do it when I'm near. It might be 
 awkward. I know his friends. And, take 
 my advice, get behind a rock to shoot him. 
 Truly he is a fool, but a strong one." Then, 
 savagely : " Don't you think I hate him ? 
 Curse him ! I'd shoot him like a dog if I 
 dared. Anyhow, I'll have his money. He 
 
MEETING AT THE 
 
 owes me $300, and if I can get him to play 
 once more, I'll go through him like a knife." 
 
 '* Darned if he mustn't be a fool to play- 
 twice with you. Why, your very face ought 
 to warn a feller off. Anyway ,get the money, 
 and I'm off like a streak." 
 
 " Wait till to-morrow ; he's on the high 
 horse now — wanted to quarrel this morning. 
 He'll come home better, and I'll fleece him all 
 I can. After that, he can slope, and I guess 
 I'll clear out with you." 
 
 As Montague listened, a great rage rushed 
 into his heart; the blood leapt into his face, 
 his forehead swelled, and his hands clenched. 
 His first impulse was to kick the door down 
 (and get shot), but he was slow of thought, 
 as most strong men are, and this saved his life. 
 Before he could gather together his whirling 
 senses, and act, chairs were moved, the men 
 got up, and he heard them go outside. He 
 was walking towards the door, on to the 
 veranda, when a figure passed the window. 
 He stepped on one side, and Moseley, without 
 
^6 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 seeing him, came into the room, throwing the 
 door wide open. In a moment Montague's 
 athletic form filled the doorway, and Moseley, 
 turning quickly, met his eyes. His face 
 blanched with terror ; the blood left his lips ; 
 his heart seemed to stand still. There was 
 not the slightest doubt that he had been over- 
 heard. Jack's face told him that — his terrible 
 face ! 
 
 '' My God ! " he ejaculated, as his right hand 
 slipped instinctively into the breast of his coat, 
 and he leant against the window-frame for 
 support. 
 
 "You scoundrel," began Jack slowly, in a 
 voice choking with passion ; " you infernal 
 blackleg, card-sharper, murdering thief. I'll 
 post you in every town in the territory, and if 
 I catch you anywhere but where your own 
 filthy companions live, I'll have you arrested 
 as a common cheat. I would thrash your 
 miserable life out of you, if I could bring 
 myself to touch you, you contaminating cur ! 
 If in ten minutes you are still about this place, 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST''' 37 
 
 I'll chuck you over the precipice. Get out ! " 
 stepping back to let him pass. 
 
 Moseley's eyes glittered like a serpent's. 
 Quick as thought, out came his hand from his 
 breast armed with a Derringer. As Jack 
 moved, he fired, but his hand was struck up 
 by some one outside ; he missed his aim, and 
 dropped the pistol with an oath. All this 
 took but an instant, and as Montague reeled, 
 dazed and blinded by a wound on his temple, 
 Moseley sprang like a fiend at his throat, 
 clutching and strangling with his thin, long 
 fingers. But Jack's dizziness was only of 
 a second's duration ; one choking hand he 
 gripped, and forced it back upon its wrist, 
 jerked himself free from the other, dashed the 
 blood from his eyes, and then with all the 
 force of frenzied rage, struck his adversary 
 once, twice, full in the face, still holding him 
 by the damaged wrist. Then, gathering all his 
 strength, he raised him completely off the 
 ground, and flung him like a helpless log 
 through the door. Moseley fell on his feet, 
 
38 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 tripped over a stone, staggered forward, 
 grasped wildly at the air, and disappeared 
 over the edge of the rock on which the 
 " Miner's Eest " was built, whilst Montague, 
 breathless, with shirt and coat nearly torn off, 
 smothered in fast-flowing blood, stood staring 
 wildly at the gap through which the wretched 
 man had vanished. 
 
 The noise of the struggle had of course 
 attracted the attention of all who were within 
 earshot. The landlord, accustomed as he was 
 to sudden brawls, came up with the two miners 
 who had been talking to Moseley such a short 
 time before. The rough, who had been so loud 
 in his talk, took in the situation at a glance. 
 *' He's murdered my pard ! Shoot the devil ! '' 
 he shouted. Instinctively Jack turned his face 
 towards his new enemy ; but no strength, no 
 courage could have saved him from the ruffian's 
 six-shooter. The same moment a man sprang 
 in front of him, and in a clear, cool, quiet 
 voice, said imperatively : " Put up your hands 
 — put up your hands ! By thunder ! I'll let 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST'' 39 
 
 daylight through the first man that 
 
 moves." 
 
 Up went the hands of the big dirty bully, 
 as Slocumbe, for it was the old scout who had 
 saved Montague's life the second time that 
 day, walked quickly up to him, took his pistols 
 from his belt, and threw them into the far 
 depths below. 
 
 "Now," he said gruffly, ^'git! And if T 
 catch your nasty face within twenty miles 
 of here, I'll send ye up the flume like a 
 streak ! " 
 
 Jack meanwhile had calmed down, his 
 temper settled as it ever did quickly as it 
 rose, and his first care was for Moseiey. As 
 he leant over the edge of the rock, he saw 
 that he had not fallen far, only fifteen or six- 
 teen feet at most, but there he lay still as 
 death, his head resting on his arm just as he 
 dropped down. Quick as thought, Jack was 
 by his side. He lifted up his heavy head, 
 but his eyes, though wide opep, gave no 
 response ; he felt his heart, but not a pulse 
 
40 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 stirred. He called him loudl}^ by his name — 
 " Moseiey, Moseley, old fellow, look up ! " 
 
 He took him by the shoulder and raised 
 him up in his great hands; head and neck 
 swayed helplessly to one side, a thin stream of 
 blood ran from the corner of his mouth down 
 upon his chest. 
 
 " My God ! he's dead," he cried hoarsely ; 
 " he's dead, and I've killed him ! " 
 
 The whole air seemed full of blood, blood- 
 red the valley, the trees, the rocks ; the earth 
 spun round blood-red. The limp body slipped 
 from his hands, and he swayed and would have 
 fallen, if the scout had not caught him and 
 held him up. Then light and sense failed. 
 
 His swoon was doubtless caused by loss of 
 blood from the wound in his head, increased 
 by excitement, but it did not last long. When 
 he came to himself Slocumbe was standing by 
 him as he lay on the bed in his own room, 
 bathing his head as gently as any woman. 
 " You'll do nicely now," he said cheerily, 
 "take a nip of this." 
 
MEETING AT THE ''MINER'S REST" 41 
 
 " Thanks, I'm all right," drowsily. '' Slo- 
 cumbe, I have to thank yow. for my life ! " 
 
 " Wal, it was touch and go, and I only got 
 the stick through the window just in time. 
 But snakes ! you paid the skunk when you 
 handled him. It's a strange crib this valley. 
 I've known it peaceful enough, and then again, 
 I've known it like all hell let loose. I'm par- 
 ticular slippy with a shooter in this place. 
 You see I've a bit of property here, that's why 
 I came along." 
 
 The old man talked on to keep his patient 
 quiet, and Jack never guessed that the bit of 
 property he spoke of was two grassy mounds, 
 where all that he had loved in the world slept 
 peacefully — the woman he spoke of as " his 
 little wife," the angel-faced child he called 
 "his slip of a girl" — after being tortured and 
 killed by Indians in that wild raid when he, 
 the first settler, had built the shanty in the 
 "Valley of Sleep" — now for the second time 
 the "Valley of Death." 
 
 They buried Moseley in an opening amongst 
 
42 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 the pines, where a shaft of moonlight rested 
 on the face which looked calm and placid 
 enough now, with only the bruise where Jack 
 had struck him to tell of violence. Looking 
 down upon that still form, Montague could 
 scarcely bring himself to believe that it was 
 the same man who but a few hours before had 
 tried so hard to take his life. They covered 
 him over reverently, and then Jack turned 
 away with a sigh from the solitary grave. 
 
 In the deep silence of the pine forest Moseley 
 slept his last sleep. The soft moonlight fil- 
 tered through the solemn shadows, and gently 
 kissed the newly risen mound ; the night- 
 breeze whispered its God- sent message through 
 the moaning branches, and all seemed to speak 
 of rest, and hope, and peace, beyond the sinner's 
 grave ! 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 A RETURN TO CIVILISATION. 
 
 " Where are you off to ? " Lady Wildgrave 
 exclaimed in dismay, as her husband put his 
 closely-cropped head in at the door, with the 
 unsatisfactory remark, " Ta-ta." 
 
 Her question stopped him effectually in his 
 mean attempt at evasion, and a slight pink 
 stole into his face, which was remarkable for 
 nothing but a certain refinement of colouring 
 and feature, and a smile which was his most 
 effective weapon in all encounters with the 
 softer sex. 
 
 " Promised to meet Gordon at the Savoy — 
 miss him, if I don't look sharp," he said 
 hurriedly. 
 
 " But me — you don't think of me," she 
 persisted, for she had not yet grown into the 
 
44 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 habit of overlooking her own claims, ^' I cannot 
 go to the Badmington's alone." 
 
 " AVhy not ? " raising his eyebrows. ^' They 
 won't eat you, and Dandy will be there — the 
 faithful Dandy. He will see you in safety up 
 the stairs." 
 
 " But aren't you coming at all ? " the corners 
 of her pretty mouth drooping, as she fixed 
 her earnest eyes on his face, as if to read his 
 secret intentions. 
 
 His ready smile came to his aid. "You 
 won't want me, you little humbug," he said 
 playfully ; " but I shall be there ; of course I 
 shall turn \x^ some time or other. But you 
 know you can take care of yourself, as well as 
 any woman about town. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Lady Wildgrave did not 
 know it, because she had never tried ; but it 
 was a comfortable excuse to make for his own 
 proposed desertion, and in order to escape the 
 awkwardness of a contradiction, the- Viscount 
 vanished at once, with a cheerful valedictory 
 nod. 
 
A RETURN TO CIVILISATION 45 
 
 When he was gone Lady Wildgrave threw 
 down her fan with a petulant sigh, and sought 
 consolation from that unfailing source of com- 
 fort, at least for a pretty woman, a mirror. 
 When she had admired her dainty self and 
 her charming frock, seen that her fair hair 
 " made a sweet confusion on miladi's brow " — 
 to borrow her maid's favourite expression, and 
 assured herself that the white satin bodice, 
 embroidered in gold, set off to advantage her 
 almost faultless figure, she felt somewhat 
 cheered. She was just turning away with 
 a satisfied smile, when the door was thrown 
 open, and the butler announced "Mr. Mon- 
 tague." She gave one dubious glance at the 
 broad-shouldered man who was walking slowly 
 across the Persian mats and spaces of polished 
 floor to meet her, and then her whole face 
 brightened, and with a cry of delight she 
 sprang into his arms. 
 
 " Oh, Jack, this is better than anything," 
 she cried, looking up into his sunburnt face 
 with rapture, and yet wondering at the same 
 
46 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 time at the change which only three years of 
 absence had wrought in it. Even his tone of 
 voice was altered as he told her that he would 
 have "funked" coming to see her, if he had 
 known what a " howling swell " she had 
 grown into, dressed like a queen, and lodged 
 in a house like a palace ! 
 
 " Don't be a goose," with a smile and a 
 blush, " but come and tell me every single 
 thing you've done, in all these heaps of 
 years." 
 
 He gave a short laugh, but his eyes sad- 
 dened. 
 
 " That's a large order," he said slowly, 
 " and I don't know if you are prepared to sit 
 up all night to be bored. To judge by these 
 splendours," with a glance at her satin gown, 
 " you must be going to some festivity. It 
 can't be an every-day garment." 
 
 " It cost — no, I won't tell you. You are new 
 to this sort of thing, and might be shocked, 
 though it's the best way of improving trade. 
 And when dear old mother says ' extrava- 
 
A RETURN TO CIVILISATION 47 
 
 gance,' with a shake of the head, I shout 
 ' philanthropy,' and shut her up. Wait till 
 you've got a wife of your own, you will know 
 all about it then. But perhaps you have," 
 scrutinising his face with the utmost atten- 
 tion, "a horrible Feejee woman, a missionary 
 pet, with a girdle of flowers, and a gigantic 
 prayer-book ? " 
 
 Montague shook his head. " No, I've 
 kept out of that scrape, because there was 
 no temptation. I'm a bachelor still, thank 
 heaven ! " 
 
 " You seem unnecessarily fervent," with a 
 little laugh. '' "Wildgrave keeps his spirits, 
 though he has undertaken me." 
 
 " An awful responsibility ! But where is 
 he? I want to make his acquaintance." 
 
 "He was here a moment ago." 
 
 "But isn't he going with you? " 
 
 " My dear boy ! how behind the world you 
 are ! If a husband went everywhere with his 
 wife, she would get fearfully bored by him." 
 
 " Then you don't want him? " slowly, as if 
 
48 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 studying the situation from a new point of 
 view. 
 
 " If I did, don't you suppose he would 
 come ? " 
 
 ^^ I hope so," gravely, as if a sudden doubt 
 were suffocating the hope. " Look here, Em, 
 if he wants keeping in order, turn him over 
 to me, and I'll punch his head." 
 
 " Thanks. I should tremble for the con- 
 sequences ; you haven't seen him," with an 
 amused smile ; ^' it would be as bad as trust- 
 ing a fly to the mercies of a steam hammer." 
 
 " A little fellow ? " 
 
 " Tiny — only half a head taller than I 
 am. But everybody likes him," impressively. 
 " They call him ' Pop ' at the club, because 
 he's so popular." 
 
 " Humph — don't know that popularity is 
 altogether to a fellow's credit," said Montague 
 reflectively, though he had been popular 
 enough at Cambridge himself amongst his own 
 set. " It generally means that a man hasn't 
 a backbone — easily bent iu any direction." 
 
A RETURN TO CIVILISATION 49 
 
 " You talk like an octogenarian. I don't 
 understand it. What's the matter with you, 
 Jack ? " and the little Viscountess turned upon 
 her brother a pair of inquiring eyes. She 
 missed she scarcely knew what, but she felt 
 that he was a different sort of Jack to the one 
 that had left England three years before. He 
 looked about ten years older, and though as 
 upright as a pine, gave her the impression that 
 '^ the old man of the sea " was hanging on to 
 his back. 
 
 " Nothing," he said hastily ; '' don't I look 
 pretty fit? But tell me how life has been 
 going with you, Em ? Not much to com- 
 plain of, I fancy. You were always a lucky 
 little woman." 
 
 "Nothing to complain of! What a grud- 
 ing way to put it. It's a glorious world, Jack, 
 and I'm one of the happiest creatures in it. 
 I've a duck of a husband, a gem of a house, 
 and now that you've come back, I've nothing 
 — no, not one single thing to wish for." 
 
 Montague looked at her with a sort of 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 wonder in his grave eyes. Sitting there in 
 her radiant beauty, in her gorgeous dress, and 
 her joyous youth, she seemed to him an irres- 
 ponsible soulless thing — with no experience of 
 suffering, and no capacity for its endurance ; 
 a butterfly which had never borne the weight 
 of even one raindrop on the undimmed beauty 
 of its wings. As the shadows are deepest 
 wherever the sun shines brightest, so the 
 contemplation of another's joy is apt to deepen 
 the gloom of your own hidden grief; and 
 Jack, in contrast to his sister, felt as if he 
 were a hundred years old, and the cares of the 
 whole world were on his shoulders. 
 
 " !No woman can exist in that sort of state," 
 he said with a smile ; " I'd bet you five bob 
 that before you get half way to wherever you 
 are going, you'll have got up a grievance or 
 manufactured a wish." 
 
 " IVe a wish now. Come with me, Jack," 
 laying her small hand on his coat-sleeve, and 
 looking up into his face with an urgent appeal 
 in her eyes. It struck her that it would be a 
 
A RETURN TO CIVILISATION 51 
 
 pleasing novelty to appear with this big 
 brother of hers, and to show him off as the 
 '' grizzly "-slayer of the North, or the elephant- 
 hunter of the South ; she was sure neither of 
 the animal nor of the locality, but sport is a 
 large peg on which you can hang any sort of 
 hat you like, and every one would be too busy 
 with his own concerns to ask any questions, 
 or at least to wait for any answers. ''Now, 
 do come — I shall be so proud of you." 
 
 " Now, Em, do you think I would put you 
 through the trial of going out with a man 
 whose collars are not up to the mark ? Look 
 at them," raising his head so that she might 
 inspect them under his beard. They had cer- 
 tainly been selected with more regard to ease 
 than to fashion, and as Lady Wildgrave re- 
 garded them with critical eyes, she felt she 
 must reluctantly give up her brother till he 
 had given up those atrocities. Her face fell, 
 and she looked slightly embarrassed. 
 
 "I don't suppose it would matter," she 
 said slowly ; " every one would know you 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 nilNOlS LIBRARY 
 
52 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 were all right, and I'd publish it abroad that 
 you had come " 
 
 " My dear girl," interrupting her with some 
 of his old impatience, " I don't want to be 
 trotted out as a barbarian. It would be a 
 huge self-sacrifice for you, and a martyrdom 
 for me. I'll run down to Derwent's Cray, and 
 get a little more civilised before I show myself 
 in a London ball-room. Now, good-bye. I'm 
 keeping you " — standing up, as if to show his 
 willingness to be off. 
 
 " Stay in London, and interview your tailor ; 
 that will be more to the purpose," she said, 
 with a little laugh, as she measured her slight 
 figure against his stalwart one, and found that 
 she reached to his shoulder. " How enormous 
 you seem after Wildgrave. I believe you've 
 been stretching yourself by some new inven- 
 tion, and that's what has kept you away for 
 such an age." 
 
 " It isn't quite an age," he said hastily. 
 "You don't go over to America, and come 
 back the next day. But can't I put you in 
 
A RETURN TO CIVILISATION 53 
 
 the carriage? It must be nearly .midnight. 
 I suppose it's at the door." 
 
 " Oh yes, but there's no hurry. I can have 
 a ball every night of the week, but a brother 
 only once in a century/' In spite of this 
 sweet speech she lifted her face to be kissed, 
 for she really thought it was time to be off, 
 though she did not like to say so, and in a 
 few minutes she was driving towards her 
 scenes of dissipation, and wondering if "the 
 faithful Dandy" would be tired of waiting; 
 whilst Jack Montague walked slowly up 
 Grosvenor Place, oppressed by the thought 
 that he felt like a stranger amongst his old 
 most familiar haunts. Before reaching the 
 corner by St. George's Hospital he had come 
 to the conclusion that civilisation was a great 
 mistake, and that it was a hundred times 
 better to be in a land where you could be 
 unshackled by its fetters, and where the man 
 himself mattered more than the collars he 
 chose to array himself in. Em was fond of 
 him, poor little girl, but habit and conven- 
 
54 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 tionality were stronger than her affection. 
 Possibly she might not have minded walking 
 into the room with hini, if he had committed 
 some of the largest crimes in the calendar; 
 but certainly it would have been the greatest 
 trial to her to introduce him as her brother if 
 there was anything wrong with coat, trowsers, 
 or collars. 
 
 " What a detestably hollow world it is," he 
 reflected, like a discontented philosopher who 
 can get no one to listen to his own favourite 
 thesis, as he descended St. James's Street, 
 after passing a long file of carriages in Picca- 
 dilly. "" Every one seems to have run mad 
 upon pleasure ; and they are in such a precious 
 hurry about it that they can't even stop to 
 say, ' How are you ? ' to a newcomer. Wish 
 I had stayed where I was. Em can do very 
 well without me. I'll see if my mother can." 
 
 Ten minutes later, he was slapped on the 
 back, and welcomed in the heartiest fashion 
 by an old Eton chum, who was coming down 
 the steps of the Junior Carlton as he ran up. 
 
A RETURN TO CIVILISATION 55 
 
 Seated in a comfortable armchair in the smok- 
 ing-room, with Charlie Kingston close by him, 
 and a cigar between his lips, he was carried 
 out of himself by such a pleasant tide of 
 mutual recollections, that he forgot his severe 
 strictures on the world in general, and found 
 his own particular world uncommonly 
 pleasant. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 Jack Montague's return meant more than a 
 delightful episode in an otherwise charming 
 life — to his mother. Unlike the airy little 
 Viscountess, she had long quiet days in which 
 to think of the past, and to form happy wishes 
 for the future ; and her absent son formed a 
 foreground to a very attractive background, 
 which she had been carefully constructing 
 during. the last few years. Mrs. Montague 
 was a mother such as any son might be proud 
 of — nice to look at, pleasant to talk to, with 
 a mind capable of taking interest in most of 
 the larger questions of the day, and a heart so 
 capacious that there seemed to be plenty of 
 room in it for all that were " sick or sorry," or 
 
HOME 57 
 
 who had been worsted in that struggle which 
 is supposed to end in the survival of the 
 fittest. The greatest grief she had ever known 
 was the death of her husband, which came 
 upon her with a sudden shock. General 
 Archibald Montague, C.B., was commandant 
 at Woolwich for a few years. He had never 
 joined the army of grumblers, but had been 
 devoted to the service ever since he entered 
 the ranks of the Eoyal Artillery as a yellow- 
 haired boy, with a small amount of money in 
 his pocket, but with such golden dreams of 
 future distinction in his head as made up for 
 any other material deficiencies. Those dreams 
 came truer than most, for he was mentioned in 
 several despatches during the campaign in 
 Afghanistan as having made himself con- 
 spicuous through his personal courage. And 
 even South Africa did not become a grave for 
 his reputation, as it has for that of many 
 others. He had escaped the long fierce lances 
 of the Afghans and the terrible assegais of the 
 Zulus, but he succumbed at last to a sun- 
 
58 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 stroke, which cast him like a helpless log on 
 the withered grass, as he was reviewing a hand- 
 ful of artillery on Woolwich Common. 
 
 In half-an-hour the General was dead, and 
 his wife became a widow before the news of 
 the catastrophe reached her. She was harm- 
 lessly engaged in shopping at Howell & 
 James's when the accident occurred ; but she 
 reproached herself afterwards, as if she had 
 committed a sin, because her husband was 
 lying speechless on the grass, with pathetic 
 eyes looking dimly for the wife who was not 
 there, whilst she was choosing a bonnet, and 
 being critical as to its colour. Had she been 
 there she could not have done anything to 
 save her husband, for she could not have 
 rushed after him with an umbrella whilst he 
 was trotting about the common on his tall 
 white horse ; but this, which would have been 
 a supreme consolation to a man, naturally 
 made no diiBference to a woman ; and she cried 
 as if she would never forgive herself for that 
 run up to town, which began in the hot sun- 
 
HOME 59 
 
 shine of an old-fashioned summer's morning, 
 and seemed to end in a gloom which no sun 
 would ever have the power to brighten. 
 
 The old hero was laid in his grave with due 
 military honours, and Woolwich knew the 
 Montagues no more. The widow went back 
 to The Priory at Derwent's Cray, and found 
 resignation and peace under the shade of its 
 stately elms; for she was not the sort of 
 woman to brood for ever over a past sorrow 
 when she had two delightful children to give 
 her present joy. Jack went to Eton and 
 Cambridge. Emmeline had a governess at 
 home — a painstaking creature, who wished to 
 turn out her pupil as a sort of compendium of 
 knowledge, with all the ologies at her finger's 
 ends, and every modern language tripping 
 naturally from the tip of her tongue ; but, 
 thanks to Miss Montague's rebellion, she only 
 succeeded in forming her into a charming girl, 
 with a voice like the song of a thrush, and 
 a touch such as a Thalberg might have listened 
 to without shuddering. 
 
6o NO COMPROMISE 
 
 There were times when the gravity and the 
 stilhiess of The Priory were so overpowering 
 that any one might have gone to sleep on one 
 of the comfortable seats on the lawn, with no 
 chance of being roused by anything louder 
 than the decorous caw of a rook, or the 
 soothing coo of a grey-winged dove ; but when 
 the son came home for his " vac," and the 
 daughter was released from her studies, there 
 was no quiet for anybody in the place, from 
 Mrs. Montague downwards to the very smallest 
 of the stable-boys. Jack, who was always in 
 the highest of spirits, led his small sister into 
 continual, trifling scrapes, out of which she 
 came, generally with a torn frock and a flushed 
 face, but with such a deprecating look in her 
 sweet blue eyes, that a mother must have been 
 made of something harder than mothers mostly 
 consist of, not to forgive her on the spot, and 
 kiss instead of scold her. Those were very 
 happy days, either in summer or winter, 
 whether following the hounds over muddy 
 fields and ragged hedges, or playing tennis 
 
HOME 6i 
 
 on the lawn, or roaming through the pine- 
 woods in search of nothing at all but enjoy- 
 ment. When Jack first went out shooting, 
 prouder of the gun over his shoulder than 
 even a newly created duchess of her diamonds, 
 nothing v^ould content Emmeline till she had 
 dragged Madame Maury, palpitating and pro- 
 testing, over acres of "plough" or turnips, to 
 the scene of action. But, at the first sight of 
 a partridge falling with a shower of blood- 
 bespattered feathers, the girl turned sick and 
 fled. Nothing would induce her to come out 
 shooting again, though she was much inte- 
 rested in the account of her brother's achieve- 
 ments, and no gamekeeper's commendations 
 were more hearty than hers when he had 
 made a respectable bag. 
 
 A heavy dulness settled on The Priory as 
 soon as Jack started on his voyage to America, 
 and Mrs. Montague felt her son's absence so 
 acutely that she yielded to her girl's entreaties, 
 and took her up to London. She was some- 
 what surprised at the eagerness with which 
 
62 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 Emmeline threw herself, both heart and soul, 
 into any diversion which came in her way. 
 One delightful evening at the Opera raised the 
 girl's spirits to such an extent that Jack's 
 absence ceased to be the subject of a constant 
 jeremiad; and by the next year, when she 
 passed through her first season like a queen in 
 a triumphant procession, with heads and hearts 
 bowing low before her beauty and freshness, 
 the brother was forgotten because of an ever- 
 increasing roll of admirers. Em Montague 
 seemed to bring the freshness of the spring 
 into a heated ball-room, and she caught the 
 fancy of the young Yiscount at once, because 
 she had not done everything before like the 
 rest of his partners. The other girls whom he 
 came across were women of the world whilst 
 posing as innocent debutantes ; but Miss Mon- 
 tague in her first season was without a scrap 
 of worldly wisdom, and she actually won his 
 heart by throwing him over, with blushing 
 audacity, for a good-looking Apollo who had 
 nothing but his face to recommend him. This 
 
HOME 63 
 
 gave the necessary spur to the inclinations of 
 a man who had never run a chance of being 
 thrown over before. He began to consider 
 the Montagues, both mother and daughter, 
 as above the level of ordinary people. Mrs. 
 Montague, the dignified, high-bred widow, 
 stood by like a passive spectator, and let her 
 daughter's suitors come or go as they thought 
 best ; whilst other mothers too often lost their 
 biggest fish by angling for it in the full glare 
 of publicity. Lord Wildgrave had all the 
 conscious importance of rank combined with 
 fortune. He knew that he was a prize — a 
 prize for which some of the prettiest girls in 
 society were competing with the utmost 
 eagerness ; but in an access of sentiment and 
 generosity, he made up his mind to give him- 
 self away to an outsider who had never entered 
 her name for the competition. He began his 
 courtship when the lilacs were in bloom, and 
 he was accepted before the roses had faded. 
 No time was lost between the acceptance and 
 its natural consequence, for he was in a hurry 
 
64 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 to get a certain amount of honeymooning over 
 before the Twelfth. It was all done in what 
 seemed to Mrs. Montague breathless haste, 
 and she scarcely realised that she had lost a 
 daughter and not gained a son, till she ^ood 
 on the doorstep in Brook Street amidst a 
 fluttering crowd of hats and handkerchiefs, 
 and saw the neat brougham drive oflf with her 
 child inside, and felt her hand grasped by an 
 injudicious friend, who congratulated her on 
 her loss, as if she actually thought it a gain ! 
 
 The Wildgraves, after flitting about from 
 north to south, wherever inclination and invi- 
 tation took them, settled down as a very 
 cheerful pair of love-birds in an unusually 
 gorgeous nest in Grosvenor Place. Eelieved 
 of all anxiety on Emmeline's account, Mrs. 
 Montague's thoughts naturally turned with 
 redoubled affection to her son. It seemed 
 strange to her that he should be far away so 
 long after the business in Virginia was settled, 
 especially when he knew that she must be 
 rather lonely in The Priory, without either 
 
HOME 65 
 
 husband or child to keep her company. She 
 longed for him as those in pain for ease, or 
 those in suspense for certainty; but another 
 long lonely year went by, and she said to 
 herself in bitter disappointment, **It will go 
 on like this till I'm laid in my grave, and 
 then perhaps he will be sorry." 
 
 Montague apparently was " sorry " long 
 before such a sad event happened, for just 
 when his mother had reached the terminus 
 of her patience, three lines in a thin envelope 
 hurried her back to her starting-point. As 
 far as she could tell there had been no reason 
 for his delay but his own wayward will, and at 
 last this will had decided in favour of return. 
 Then a period of activity came to The Priory 
 such as the servants had never known before. 
 Eooms that were perfectly clean had to be 
 cleaned over again. The furniture was rubbed 
 till every bit of old oak looked as bright as if 
 it were intended to serve as a mirror in the 
 future. The lawns were shaved as close as a 
 convict's head, the weeds uprooted with ruth- 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
66 ^ NO COMPROMISE 
 
 less vigour, whilst the coacliman made the 
 grooms and stable-boys work as hard as the 
 negroes used to do in the plantations, till 
 emancipation came and turned them from 
 faithful servants into idle owners. 
 
 It was towards the end of a very hot day 
 that Mrs. Montague, having tired herself out 
 by looking on whilst others worked, sat down 
 with a satisfied sense of labour brought to 
 completion ; and knowing that all was ready, 
 gave herself up to the happiness of expecta- 
 tion. Whilst the bees were carrying on what 
 might be prosaically called their mercantile 
 flirtation with the lilies of the valley, and the 
 butterflies, whilst pretending to be thinking of 
 nothing but enjoyment, were really intent on 
 getting as much honey as they could from 
 the primroses, Mrs. Montague fell asleep. Of 
 course she would have denied it, if any one 
 had been rude enough to accuse her of it ; but 
 it was a fact, and consequently when Jack 
 Montague came at last, and with grave eyes 
 looked at the old home, with its castellated 
 
HOME 67 
 
 front and grey walls, basking in the sun as 
 peacefully as the old deaf dog lying on the 
 steps, there was no one to disturb his medita- 
 tions, and memories in thousands came troop- 
 ing through his mind. He wondered first why 
 he had stayed away so long, and secondly, why 
 everything looked just the same as ever, when 
 he himself felt so completely changed. Had 
 the world stood still in his absence? And 
 then, he turned his head and saw his mother. 
 
 Everything else was forgotten as he hurried 
 up to where she was sitting under the old 
 cedar — as she had sat so often in the old days, 
 with the same white cap to all appearance, and 
 the identical black lace shawl, which he had 
 torn, and Em had mended so often in a fit of 
 vicarious penitence. 
 
 " Mother ! " There was a catch in his 
 throat, and his blue eyes filled with tears, as 
 he knelt down by her, and put his arms 
 gently round her. 
 
 She woke with a start, and in an instant 
 expectation had changed into fruition. " Oh, 
 
68 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 Jack ! " she said breathlessly, " I never heard 
 you. Thank God, you've come ! " 
 
 *' I was a brute to keep away," he whispered 
 hoarsely, as she clung to him as if she would 
 never let him go. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 "this new ma n." 
 
 "Montague lias turned up at last," an- 
 nounced Philip Witherington, as he burst 
 like an avalanche into the morning-room 
 where Mrs. Witherington was talking to her 
 daughter. 
 
 "Nonsense," exclaimed Di, with cheerful 
 satire. " I've not heard ' See the Conquering 
 Hero ' on any of the penny trumpets, or seen 
 one triumphal arch across the road. He can't 
 have come." 
 
 " But he has ; and I'm going to look him up." 
 
 ''My dear Phil," remonstrated his mother 
 
 in the peevish tone which every one who 
 
 knew her had grown accustomed to, "you 
 
 should wait for your father." 
 
70 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 ''Father won't be back till dinner-time, and 
 Mrs. Montague would think me a brute if I 
 didn't hurry up at once. You see she wants 
 us to be awful chums." 
 
 " You never ask me what I wish. How 
 am I to tell what this new man is like ? " 
 raising her eyebrows discontentedly. 
 
 '' Hes not new," Di broke in, for she had 
 that strict eye for justice which belongs to the 
 young when their affections are not engaged. 
 " The Montagues have been here for centuries, 
 and Jie will look on us as disgustingly new — as 
 if we had just been ordered from Whiteley's." 
 
 '^ We are nothing of the sort ; but I can't 
 argue with you. Eing the bell for Perkins," 
 with a sigh as deep as if she were First Lord 
 of the Admiralty, and had to pay the Channel 
 Fleet out of her own pocket; whilst, as a 
 matter of fact, the housekeeper had only 
 ordered a few pounds too many of wax-candles, 
 which would make no perceptible difference in 
 her income. But Mrs. Witherington not only 
 liked a grievance, she actually loved it, and 
 
" THIS NEW MAN'' 71 
 
 always seemed to put it under a large mental 
 microscope in order to increase it. In this 
 she resembled so many of her sex that she 
 could not claim to be peculiar ; but it is a 
 habit which ought to be checked, for it is as 
 unpleasant in family life as a plant of horse- 
 radish in a flower garden. It grows and 
 grows till there is no room either for content 
 or happiness in the same soil, and it has a 
 blighting effect on all who are near. 
 
 Di strolled down the hill with her brother, 
 and left her mother to enjoy the interview 
 with Mrs. Perkins. Her face was usually as 
 bright as a typical morning in June, but to- 
 day there was a slight cloud on it. Mrs. 
 Witherington, being at a loss for the moment 
 for anything else to grumble at, had attacked 
 her daughter, and in a melancholy voice, 
 wished that she were different ; and the words 
 rankled in Di's mind. 
 
 Most people, looking at the girl's graceful 
 figure and beautiful face, might have wished, 
 not that she were different, but that they were 
 
72 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 the same, for she was like a personification of 
 the brightness and beauty of the summer. 
 There was a vivid life about her youth, which 
 was refreshing after the artificial numbness 
 begotten by some young ladies in the neigh- 
 bourhood, when their manners had been 
 fashioned into shape by two or three seasons 
 in London. She lived every moment of her 
 life ; and the dark grey eyes, which looked 
 out from under long lashes and black brows, 
 were as honest as those of a child whose soul is 
 like an angel's in heaven. 
 
 " Phil, have you a purpose in life ? " she 
 asked abruptly, as he held open the gate for 
 her, which separated '' The Wilderness " from 
 the dusty road. 
 
 The boy laughed at the solemn question. 
 
 " Yes," he said with gravity. "I've a 
 purpose at this moment. I'm going to look 
 up Montague. 
 
 "Don't be ridiculous. You know what I 
 mean. Mother says there is no good in living 
 if you haven't an object. Now, what is my 
 
" THIS NEW MAN'' -j^, 
 
 object? " looking at her brother with serious 
 eyes. 
 
 " To get a husband, of course. That is the 
 only thing girls are brought up for. No — I 
 didn't mean it, so you needn't flare up." 
 
 " It was a horrid, disgusting thing to say," 
 cried Di, passionately. " Men do their best 
 to lead girls on, and then cry out that 
 they are running after them. I know I 
 wouldn't move an inch," throwing back her 
 head proudly. 
 
 " Then you would be left a mile in the rear 
 by most of the girls in these parts," said the 
 cynic of eighteen. 
 
 " And I shouldn't care if I were." 
 
 " Perhaps not, if you weren't alone," with a 
 mischievous nod. 
 
 "I'm not chaffing, Phil. I do want an 
 object in life, and I don't know how to set 
 about getting one," the girl said seriously, as 
 she stooped to pick a wild-rose from the 
 hedge. 
 
 " Blest if I understand ! You are a sort of 
 
74 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 general servant to the whole parish as it is. 
 If you did any more there would be positively 
 nothing left for Flo or Mrs. Kindersley. 
 
 " Oh, but I mean something much grander 
 than carrying puddings and tracts," a wide 
 vista of noble possibilities rising before her 
 mental vision, instead of the country road. 
 
 "Be a humble soul like me," said Phil, 
 whose humility had never struck any one but 
 himself. " At Eton my highest ambition was 
 to be captain of the boats. At Oxford I shall 
 be jolly well pleased if I can scrape through 
 my exams, without being ploughed in any of 
 them." 
 
 '' I call that mean and paltry," she rejoined 
 in fierce contempt. " If I were you I should 
 never be content unless I got a ' Pirst,' and 
 my name was at the top of the list." 
 
 " Then you would be the unhappiest beggar 
 that ever lived, for it is a hundred to one you 
 would never get there. I know my head 
 would split if I crammed it too full. 
 
 " Yes, of course it would," with a quick 
 
« THIS NEW MAN'' 75 
 
 revulsion of feeling, as her eyes rested lovingly 
 on the boy's slight figure and delicate face. 
 *' Mind you don't work too hard. I should 
 never have a moment^s peace if I thought you 
 were slaving yourself to death." 
 
 The boy laughed as if it were the primest 
 joke. 
 
 " I wouldn't fret myself into a skeleton on 
 that score. Wet-bobs at Eton or Oxford, as a 
 rule, don't start brain fever through over- 
 cramming. You should hear what old Winter 
 has to say on the subject," alluding to a 
 popular tutor, whose remonstrances were more 
 frequent than effective. 
 
 *' There would be no originality about it. 
 Boys will be idle and worry their tutors, whilst 
 tutors must be fussy and scold the boys until the 
 end of time. I wish I could invent a new set of 
 people who would be quite different to all who 
 had gone before " — with a sigh, as if she had 
 just developed into a hlasee woman of the 
 world, and were tired to death of her 
 neighbours. 
 
76 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Wait till you see Montague. His mother 
 says that he is out and out the best fellow ever 
 created. 
 
 " I dont want to see him. The best fellow 
 on earth would never have deserted his mother, 
 all this time, for the sake of killing a wapiti or 
 a grizzly.'' 
 
 She said the words with energy, as if she 
 were prepared to maintain her opinion before 
 the whole world, but one big blush covered 
 her face when she met a pair of blue eyes 
 looking at her, with an indescribable expression, 
 from over the stile which admitted a few 
 privileged people to the grounds of The Priory. 
 She knew in a moment that it was the very 
 man whom they were discussing, who leant 
 on the top rail, so that only his broad shoulders 
 and his grave bearded face were visible ; and 
 she hurried on as if she had caught sight of 
 an infuriated bull. Phil would be equal to 
 the occasion she knew, for, unlike other boys, 
 he was never shy and never awkward. It 
 would seem to him the most natural thing on 
 
''THIS NEW MAN'' 77 
 
 earth to pay his call by the roadside, instead of 
 going to the house. Yes, he was actually 
 going up to him. She could hear his sweet, 
 boyish tones, as he made some cheery speech 
 of welcome. It was a pleasant voice that 
 answered him — deeper, stronger, fuller than 
 her brother's, as it naturally would be — a 
 voice that evidently belonged to a gentleman ; 
 and she had imagined Montague to be a rough 
 sort of savage. She quickened her pace, 
 though the sun was hot, and she was in no 
 particular hurry to reach the school. It was 
 not her way to avoid her neighbours like a 
 bashful school-girl, who goes away hoping to 
 be called back ; but she had conceived a 
 violent prejudice against Jack Montague, all 
 the more violent because there was so little 
 ground for it, and she had determined not to 
 rush at him the moment he appeared. Phil 
 was actually bringing his new friend after 
 her, with the purpose of effecting a prompt 
 introduction ; but as they turned round one 
 cornel of the winding road, she vanished round 
 
78 JSIO COMPROMISE 
 
 another, and finally disappeared under the 
 Traveller's joy, which clothed the porch of the 
 village school. 
 
 There she came to a standstill, breathless, 
 rubicund, and triumphant, while one hundred 
 and fifty pairs of eyes devoured her ; and the 
 mistress, with a look of surprise on her face, 
 said gravely : 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Witherington. It is 
 rather warm weather for running." 
 
 Generals have been known to acknowledge 
 that some victories are worse than defeats, and 
 Di, whilst glorying in the thought that she 
 had distanced the enemy, was disturbed by an 
 uncomfortable doubt as to whether she had 
 behaved with the dignity to be expected of 
 Miss Witherington of " The Wilderness." 
 
 Jack Montague was not the sort of man to 
 pursue any girl who wished to run away 
 from him, so he very soon suggested to Phil 
 to come to the house and see his mother. 
 
 The boy gladly consented, and before the 
 gong sounded for luncheon he was ready to 
 
''THIS NEW MAN'' 79 
 
 pronounce a confident verdict of approval on 
 Mrs. Montague's only son. Phil had neither 
 the conceit nor the self-consciousness which 
 are often the bane and the torment of youth ; 
 and being of a simple, frank nature^ was 
 willing to believe well of every one he came 
 across. He was delighted with Jack, and 
 ready to make a hero of him on the spot. The 
 gong only kept him from telling the whole 
 history of his family, in answer to a question 
 of Montague's — a history involving some 
 details which would have sent a cold shiver 
 down his auditor's spine, and brought the 
 newly started friendship to an abrupt con- 
 clusion. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Jack Montague received a cordial welcome 
 from all the neighbourhood. Old friends, of 
 course, gathered round him, shook him heartily 
 by the hand, and said they were uncommonly 
 glad to see him, whilst the " new '' approved 
 of him at first sight, and showed every dis- 
 position to improve his acquaintance. Mrs. 
 Montague was not slow to perceive the change 
 in her son, for a mother's eye is one of the 
 most critical that belongs to humanity; but 
 she had the tact to keep her anxieties to her- 
 self, and not make them common property 
 with her neighbours. Some day Jack would 
 tell her why he had lost all his light-hearted- 
 ness, why he sat so often lost in unhappy 
 
A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE 8i 
 
 thoughts as she could guess by the expression 
 of his face, and why all the joyousness had 
 gone out of his laugh. Long ago she used to 
 wish that the harum-scarum undergraduate 
 would learn to take life more seriously ; but 
 now that he rivalled a don in his gravity, it 
 made her still more uneasy in her mind, and 
 she longed for a return of his former high 
 spirits. There was another thing that clouded 
 her perfect content. On the first Sunday after 
 his return, she came downstairs about a quarter 
 to eleven, in all the glory of her best bonnet, 
 black shawl of Chantilly lace, and a pair of 
 grey kid gloves. Jack was standing on the 
 steps in a suit of brown dittoes, witli a well- 
 worn pot-hat on his head, and a cherry-wood 
 pipe in his mouth. He took out his pipe, and 
 made a cheerful salaam. " You look perfectly 
 splendid, mother," he said with a smile ; " it is 
 unkind of you to cut out all the girls." 
 
 Mrs. Montague acknowledged the compli- 
 ment, but did not return it, as slie regarded 
 her son, for once, with anything but admiration. 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
82 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "You will put on a different coat?" she 
 said gently. " The people about here are very 
 particular about their clothes when they come 
 to church. Mr. Kindersley says that it is 
 only paying proper respect to the day." 
 
 ** I am not going to lie on the grass in my 
 best coat, whatever Kindersley says." 
 
 " Not lie on the grass in it — of course he 
 would not wish that ; but I really should be 
 ashamed to see you go to church." 
 
 "You won't be tried, mother." 
 
 " Ah, there's a dear boy " — her face bright- 
 ening. " Only, do be quick, as we haven't too 
 much time," with an anxious look at the old- 
 fashioned clock which hung on the panelled wall. 
 
 " I'll walk with you to the gate, but I shan't 
 come any further," shaking the ashes from his 
 pipe against the door-post. 
 
 In bitter disappointment, Mrs. Montague 
 stood quite still, with her large prayer-book 
 in her hands. It seemed to her as if the 
 hopes of years were tumbling, broken and 
 shattered, about her ears. 
 
A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE 83 
 
 " Oh Jack ! you don't mean it ! '' she said 
 shakily, the corners of her mouth drooping, 
 and her eyes filling with tears. 
 
 A great tenderness came into Montague's 
 eyes, though his manner was short. " You 
 can't expect a fellow to come back just the 
 same after three years spent in the wilds," he 
 said gruffly, as he studied the bowl of his 
 pipe, as if much depended on its colour. 
 
 '^ He might change as to his outward self 
 through sunburn or growing a beard, but I 
 can't see why he should change his religion," 
 she replied with some heat. 
 
 He did not look at her as he said slowly, 
 " A man can say his prayers just as well in 
 the midst of a prairie, with nothing but the 
 sky overhead, as in a stuffy church with all 
 his neighbours staring at him." 
 
 '*If you talk like that you will end by 
 saying no prayers at all " — dully, as if still 
 over-burdened by her disappointment, and yet 
 instinctively moving on, because the time 
 would not stand still for anybody. 
 
84 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " After all/' he said gravely, as lie walked 
 down the broad gravel drive by his mother's 
 side, " Grod made the prairie, and man built 
 the church." 
 
 " That is just the platitude which comes so 
 glibly to the lips of dissenters," she exclaimed, 
 with irritation. " It was God himself who 
 ordered the Temple to be built, in order that 
 He might have a house to dwell in. But I 
 can't argue with you," she broke off with a 
 catch in her throat, as she laid her tremulous 
 hand upon his arm. "Come with me. Jack, 
 to-day, if only because I ask you." She did 
 not know how far more powerful than any 
 argument was the pleading look which she 
 fixed on her son's face, or what a storm her 
 words raised in his heart. The veins on his 
 forehead swelled — his chest heaved — his brows 
 drew together in a heavy frown. " I can't — 
 don't ask me — I can't," he said hoarsely, and 
 then he turned away abruptly, and walking 
 with rapid steps through a side shrubbery, 
 passed through a gate and climbed the pine- 
 
A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE 85 
 
 clad hill beyond. He never stopped till he 
 had reached a clearing at the top, which had 
 been a favourite retreat of his in the days of 
 early boyhood. Here he threw himself down 
 on the grass, stretching his long limbs over 
 hare-bells and daisies, whilst his thoughts 
 travelled fast over the stormy surface of the 
 past. Why couldn't he be as he was only 
 three years ago — three years which seemed as 
 long as half a hundred ? Was his whole life 
 to be ruined by that one instant's work ? 
 Were all those who pranked about the world, 
 with a smile of self-satisfaction on their lips, 
 perfectly sinless ? Those who were kneeling 
 with an air of deep devotion in the old grey 
 church only a mile away, had^they absolutely 
 nothing on their consciences ? Yes, of course 
 they had, only they were better hypocrites 
 than he. With an inward smirk, they would 
 acknowledge themselves to be '^ miserable 
 offenders " to their God, because they feared 
 no after-consequences, in this life, at all events, 
 but they would take precious care not to 
 
86 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 confess so much as a lie to their neighbour. 
 And they were very wise. What would a 
 man think of any average man if he could see 
 his inmost thoughts, and know every hidden 
 action of his life? Unless the individual 
 happened to be the one saint in a sin- stained 
 world, the man who looked him through and 
 through must be shocked — intensely shocked. 
 Men talked of a deluge of water which after 
 all only affected a part of the globe, and was 
 not to be compared to the deluge of sin which 
 swamped a world. Had any escaped from it ? 
 There is a stain of it on the little white frock 
 of the child who slaps his nurse's face, on the 
 Eton jacket of the boy who tells a lie to save 
 his back from a trumpery caning; even that 
 Miss Witherington who holds her head so 
 high, and whom his mother spoke of as a 
 piece of absolute perfection, she cannot have 
 passed through seventeen or eighteen years of 
 her life without having contracted some stain 
 on her garments. No, there was not a soul 
 on earth free from one spot at least of this 
 
A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE 87 
 
 moral leprosy ; and why should he feel bowed 
 down by the consciousness of that one black 
 spot on the comparatively stainless record of 
 his life, when other sinners, men who sinned, 
 day after day, and week after week, with re- 
 morseless and hardened persistency, strutted 
 about with the brazen effrontery of the mag- 
 pie who has hidden a diamond ring in its 
 nest, and feels sure that no one will think of 
 him as the thief? 
 
 " Why ? " he asked, as his whole soul re- 
 volted against the burden which he had carried 
 so long — "Why shouldn't he throw it off him ? 
 — cast it behind his back, and forget it ? " He 
 stood up and looked round him. Everything 
 seemed to preach forgetfulness of those months 
 passed in America, as his eyes rested with 
 quiet satisfaction on the English scene before 
 him. At the foot of the hill on which he was 
 standing, he could see the tall spire of the 
 church where he and his little sister had been 
 baptised many long years before. Old-fashioned 
 cottages, covered in earwigs and creepers. 
 
88 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 clustered round a small pond, on which white 
 ducks had disported themselves beyond the 
 memory of the oldest inhabitant. The river 
 Derwent flowed down the middle of the valley, 
 and divided the hop-gardens of two rival 
 farmers. The greystone bridge, which spanned 
 the water a little lower than the village, was a 
 favourite resort of all the gossips of the place, 
 who, when made thirsty by much talking, 
 slipped into the '' Ploughman's Arms " close 
 by, and hoped the parson would not see. The 
 hop-gardens ran up the hills on either side, like 
 forward children, always trying to encroach, 
 and beyond the hops on the western side of the 
 valley, were solemn pines, straight and severe 
 as n line of infantry against the sky; and on 
 the eastern, feathery larches and light-coloured 
 beeches, clothing the slope of the hills with 
 their beauty. The miscalled " Wilderness " 
 stood high among the wealth of foliage, with 
 sloping lawns stretching lovingly towards the 
 river, whilst The Priory was sheltered from the 
 frown of the pines by its bodyguard of stately 
 
A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE 89 
 
 elms. The valley broadened further up, and 
 the hills stood aside to make room for the 
 corn-fields, their green already faintly tinged 
 with gold in the warmth of the sun. It was a 
 peaceful scene, hallowed by the stillness of the 
 day of rest, and it seemed to bring a message 
 of peace to the fevered heart of the man who 
 was looking at it with eager eyes. Here in 
 quiet, prosaic England it would surely be 
 possible to forget. What would it matter to 
 these tennis-playing, cricket-loving islanders, 
 that a dead man once lay at the foot of a 
 precipice miles and miles away, with a cold, grey 
 face upturned to the sunlit sky ? Montague 
 drew himself up and squared his shoulders, 
 after his usual fashion when sternly con- 
 fronting a difficulty. It was a matter that lay 
 between him and his Grod, and he considered 
 that he was in no way bound to proclaim it to 
 the four winds of heaven. He would make a 
 compromise with his conscience. The remem- 
 brance of that fatal August night should always 
 be like a skeleton in his cupboard, but he 
 
90 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 would never open the cupboard door — never 
 let loose the ghastly tiling to scare his friends, 
 or to break his mother's heart. If he ever met 
 Moseley's relations, that would raise the ques- 
 tion of the necessity of confession ; but Moseley 
 himself had kept them very dark, and he was 
 not much afraid of their turning up. It was a 
 possibility, certainly, but as the man had never 
 mentioned them, it was equally possible that 
 he was an only son of an only son, and there- 
 fore not encumbered with Moseley aunts, 
 uncles, or cousins. 
 
 He walked down the hill the same way by 
 which he came, for the other path to the left 
 led past the church, which nestled, as if for 
 shelter, against the pine-clad slope. In order 
 to avoid the congregation, he took the straight 
 path, and came upon the rector, who was 
 strolling through the shrubbery in earnest talk 
 with Mrs. Montague. 
 
 The Eev. Charles Kindersley was a remark- 
 able man, who had done many things in his 
 life, and always done them well. He was six 
 
A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE 91 
 
 feet one in his stockings, with a well-knit 
 frame, a handsome face, with high, thoughtful 
 forehead and golden beard. Having begun 
 life as a soldier, he carried himself well, and 
 few would pass him in the street without 
 noticing him. 
 
 Jack felt awkwardly conscious that his 
 mother had been confiding her disappointment 
 to the rector, but if so, no trace appeared upon 
 his grave, kind face, as it brightened with a 
 smile of welcome. 
 
 " Glad to see you back, Montague," grasping 
 his hand as if he meant what he said. " We 
 want some fellows of the right sort to stand by 
 us in the parish. What have you been doing 
 with yourself all these years ? '' 
 
 He fixed his searching eyes on the face 
 before him, only with kindly interest, and with 
 no thought of surprising a secret. But Mr. 
 Kindersley was accustomed to studying 
 humanity in every phase, and in that one 
 glance saw that there was something to be 
 hidden, something that was of deeper interest 
 
92 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 than the success or failure of a sporting tour. 
 He resolved that he would let it rest, and wait 
 quietly till the right time came for it to be 
 confided to him, for experience had taught him 
 that the best way to win a man's confidence 
 was to seem not to care too much about it. 
 He was a keen sportsman, and all his sporting 
 instincts were roused as he thought of Mon- 
 tague's glorious chances, after which a battue 
 of carefully reared pheasants would seem so 
 ignobly tame. 
 
 "Come and smoke a pipe with me after 
 evensong," he said pleasantly. " I am longing 
 to hear how you felt when you sighted your 
 first elephant." 
 
 " Bead Eider Haggard, and you'll know all 
 about it," Jack said, carelessly. "I'm not a good 
 hand at making a romance out of nothing." 
 
 "But you will come to us?" 
 
 " Not to-night — thanks. T am going over 
 to Dainton to look up Vivian, and I expect to 
 be rather late home," he answered, slowly, 
 feeling a curious disinclination to being 
 pumped by the Eector. 
 
A COMPROMISE WITH CONSCIENCE 93 
 
 "All right," and Mr. Kindersley smiled. 
 " There is plenty of time before us, for you 
 won't be running away from Mrs. Montague 
 just yet, I suppose. Sooner or later I mean 
 to have every detail about that elephant ; but 
 I must be off," pulling out his watch, " or I 
 shall get no dinner." He raised his hat, and 
 nodded cheerfully, as he turned to walk home- 
 wards under the shade of the pines. His 
 slight figure in its long coat showed for some 
 time in the absence of all underwood amongst 
 the straight tall stems, and Mrs. Montague 
 cast a regretful glance after him. 
 
 " Why would not you go there to-night ? " 
 she asked her son as they strolled through the 
 shrubbery. 
 
 "To receive the scolding you had begged 
 him to give me? No, mother," shaking his 
 head as he lifted a rose-branch out of reach of 
 her bonnet, " I have my reasons for acting as 
 I do, but those I tell to no one, not even to 
 you." 
 
 Mrs. Montague noted the vibrating tone of 
 
94 - NO COMPROMISE 
 
 pain, and wisely said no more ; but Jack in- 
 wardly reproached himself for his cowardice. 
 He knew that he must be prepared for con- 
 tinual questions about his adventures, and, as 
 he told himself angrily, they would not grow 
 easier to answer through being put off ; so why 
 couldn't he face them to-day ? 
 
CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 THE UPAS TREE. 
 
 "How was it that I never heard of these 
 Witheringtons before ? " Jack asked his 
 mother as he took some rackets from a case in 
 the hall, and inspected them critically. " The 
 old general never seemed to have any one 
 belonging to him." 
 
 "He quarrelled with his only sister, and 
 they never spoke till after his death. I don't 
 mean that," she exclaimed as Jack began to 
 laugh, " but the quarrel was not made up, and 
 she was very much surprised to find that The 
 Wilderness was left to her and her children — 
 with the one condition of coming to live 
 there." 
 
 " Where were they before ? " 
 
96 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Windsor, I think — or did tbey live at 
 Merton? I really can't remember. But it 
 doesn't matter a bit. Di is the sweetest girl 
 that ever lived." 
 
 " Oh, of course, mother — and I'm to be 
 dragged there this afternoon— in order to fall 
 in love with her. I know all about it, you see." 
 
 Mrs. Montague blushed guiltily, for this 
 was the secret project that she had nursed for 
 some time whilst Di was growing like a flower 
 in sweetness and beauty. She had tried to 
 keep it dark, trusting to propinquity as a 
 valuable accessory, and hoping that the girl's 
 own charms, and Jack's impressionable nature, 
 would bring about the natural denoument. 
 It really was very tiresome of him to have 
 guessed it, and man-like he was sure to set 
 himself against it. 
 
 *' Miss Witherington is certain to be so 
 much admired that she won't have much time 
 to spare for a new friend," she began with an 
 unusual amount of craft, ** but I hope you 
 will make yourself agreeable." 
 
THE UPAS TREE 97 
 
 " IVe forgotten how.'' 
 
 It was a cloudy uncertain day, when sober- 
 minded June put on the airs and graces of 
 mischievous April. One minute, the waving 
 corn and the shining river seemed to laugh in 
 the sunshine ; and the next, the whole valley 
 appeared to be shadowed by the darkness of 
 the pines. A day like the hopes and fears of 
 youth, alternating perhaps according to such a 
 weighty thing as a smile or a frown ; but none 
 the less real for the moment. Girls put on 
 their best frocks, because it was necessary to 
 look nice at The Wilderness ; but mothers 
 were disposed to think that " second-best '^ 
 would have met the urgency of the occasion. 
 
 Colonel Witherington looked every inch a 
 soldier, and nobody but an imbecile could have 
 taken him for anything else. He was as 
 upright as a flag-staff, with a stern, rather sad 
 face, a cordial manner, and a pleasant smile ; 
 whilst his wife bent slightly like an over- 
 weighted willow, and welcomed her friends 
 with an air of resignation, which seemed to 
 
 VOL. I. r. 
 
98 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 say, " I'm making the best of these unfortu- 
 nate circumstances." 
 
 She always looked as if she were under a 
 blight, but as such a blight is not as visible to 
 the naked eye as the caterpillar on the rose, 
 no one could offer to relieve her from it. Her 
 friends were accustomed to it by this time, and 
 when in the highest spirits, tried to talk to 
 her with a sort of mitigated cheerfulness. 
 There was nothing mitigated about Di's 
 enjoyment of any pleasure that came in her 
 way. She would not recognise the possibility 
 of being bored, so she escaped from the pangs 
 of boredom — for boredom is a monster who 
 always slinks away if you are careful not to 
 recognise his existence. The dullest people 
 she magnetised into a brighter kind of vitality, 
 the shy, she reassured by her winning smile, 
 and the impertinent, she snubbed without 
 hesitation or mercy. The sloping lawn was 
 covered with groups of the lazy or the elderly, 
 whilst the level stretch of velvet turf beyond 
 was occupied by the tennis players. 
 
THE UPAS TREE 99 
 
 " Di, here's Montague," and Phil ran up to 
 her eagerly. " Be nice to him, there's a good 
 girl ; '' and then in an audible whisper, " you 
 needn't talk to him more than you like." He 
 hurried over the introduction, without an idea 
 that Jack had heard every word, and rushed 
 off to a quiet corner in the shade, where he 
 had arranged a game of tennis with the present 
 " queen of his heart " for his partner. 
 
 '' Why did you run away from me the other 
 day. Miss Witherington ? " Jack began with 
 decorous gravity, though there was still a 
 gleam of amusement in his eyes. 
 
 '' Look at it from another point of view, Mr. 
 Montague — perhaps I was late for school. But 
 I wasn't," she broke off suddenly, in obedience 
 to an impulse of honesty. " I didn't want to 
 meet you there and then. It seemed better to 
 wait a little longer." 
 
 " I am glad Phil didn't wait," he said slowly. 
 " There are not many boys like your brother." 
 
 " Not one," she exclaimed with enthusiasm, 
 as a bright light shone from her eyes ; and in 
 
loo NO COMPROMISE 
 
 another moment, all her prejudice against 
 Montague was forgotten. He must be better 
 than the average man she concluded, at once, 
 if he could find out and appreciate Phil's merits 
 so soon. 
 
 Every now and then she stole a glance at 
 him from under her curling lashes as he stood 
 by her side, looking almost gigantic in his 
 white flannels. There was an air of power 
 about him which always appeals to the weaker 
 sex, and he seemed to be of a diff'erent 
 type to the usual young men of the neighbour- 
 hood. She liked the decision of his chin, no 
 longer hidden by a beard; but his grave thought- 
 ful eyes impressed her most of all, and gave 
 her the best idea of his character. 
 
 " I am afraid you find The Wilderness very 
 much altered," she said, apologetically, as if 
 all the improvements which her father had 
 carried out, with the energy of a new possessor, 
 must be defects to the man who had known 
 the place in her uncle's days. " But we could 
 not help cutting down a great deal, as we 
 
THE UPAS TREE loi 
 
 could scarcely walk about tlie garden ; and 
 the furniture was old, but not old enough, and 
 only horrid." 
 
 Montague smiled. 
 
 " I can only suggest that you ought to have 
 changed its name. To call it a Wilderness 
 sounds like sarcasm. It is, as far as I can 
 judge, a capital representation of Eden." 
 
 " Instead of the tree of life, we have a 
 Upas-tree," she said with a slight sadness in 
 her fresh young voice, as she looked towards 
 a very stunted specimen of the ill-omened 
 tree. " I almost wish we had never planted 
 it. Some people say that it brings ill-luck." 
 
 " It seems to me that you have everything 
 you could wish for," looking down with grave 
 eyes at her innocent face, and feeling so 
 immeasurably older. " Why invite ill-luck 
 by expecting it ? " 
 
 " Oh ! but it came. The very day that it 
 was planted we had bad news, and mother has 
 never been the same ever since. Have you 
 ever had a bad day in your life which makes 
 
I02 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 you shiver when you think of it ? " with a 
 little shudder expressive of remembered sorrow. 
 
 A bad day ! Good heavens ! — how the 
 light seemed to go from the sunshiny garden 
 as he thought of it. He could not answer 
 her, but he grasped his racket, and struck at 
 a passing wasp with energy, as if he meant to 
 cut it in half. Di misunderstood the gesture. 
 She felt that she had asked an ill-timed ques- 
 tion, and strayed into an awkward subject. 
 
 ** You shall tell me some day when we are 
 great friends," she said with her most winning 
 smile. *' Father always says acquaintances 
 are the people to tell all your pleasures to, but 
 sorrows you keep for your friends." 
 
 Again Montague said nothing, overpowered 
 by the thoughts which her words had roused. 
 Would there ever come a time when he would 
 tell this innocent girl the one gigantic sorrow of 
 his life ? The chances were a hundred to one 
 against it. It was as much as he could do to 
 stand there, knowing that her eyes must be 
 scanning him in offended surprise at his un- 
 
THE UPAS TREE 103 
 
 responsiveness ; and yet, how was it possible 
 to respond P 
 
 " What a dreadfully impracticable man ! " 
 Di said to herself with a pout. " I might 
 just as well be talking to a cabbage. You are 
 dying to play tennis, I haven't a doubt," she 
 said aloud, as the best way to get rid of him. 
 " And you shall have the champion of Kent 
 for your partner." 
 
 Miss Pontardent eyed Montague with a 
 doubtful glance when the introduction had 
 been effected, and he was delivered over (with 
 a sigh of relief) into her hands. She knew 
 nothing about him, and she decided at once 
 that he was too big to run about. Tennis was 
 her one thought, and she had not an idea 
 beyond it. It was the aim of her existence, 
 and she devoted herself to it with an amount 
 of energy and self-sacrifice which would have 
 been admirable in a worthier cause. She 
 suited Montague more than any one else at 
 the moment, because she expected no more 
 of him than to be a tennis-playing machine. 
 
I04 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 His want of practice was evident at first, and 
 it would have amused an outsider to see the 
 suspicious glances Miss Pontardent threw at 
 him, and how her expression relaxed as his 
 play came back to him. When the first set 
 was won by them she nodded approvingly. 
 **We pulled that through better than I ex- 
 pected. If you would kindly think of nothing 
 but the game we should get on still better.'* 
 
 *' I'm an awful muff*, I know," Jack said, 
 with abject humility. 
 
 " Not quite that," with a patronising smile. 
 '' If you would only practise several hours 
 a day, I believe you would turn out a good 
 player." 
 
 "And what would become of everything 
 else?" 
 
 '' I don't quite see what you mean. If you 
 have anything else to think of, do it in the 
 winter, when you can't play tennis." 
 
 " But some things won't keep." 
 
 She frowned slightly, and returned to her 
 starting-point. " If you want to do a thing 
 
THE UPAS TREE 105 
 
 well, you must do it as the catechism says, 
 '' With your whole heart and soul." 
 
 *^ Then you must first be sure that the thing 
 is worth such an enormous appropriation. 
 
 "No doubt of that," decisively. "Tennis 
 is the game of the nineteenth century." 
 
 "But, after all, it is only a game," said 
 Montague slowly, with an irresistible desire 
 to subdue her self-satisfaction. He infinitely 
 preferred cricket, but he did not stop to men- 
 tion it, as he thought the other remark would 
 be more effective. And he was right. Miss 
 Pontardent regarded him with a dull stare. 
 Then she shrugged her shoulders, and picked 
 up a ball. " If you go upon that line, I can't 
 follow you," she said with curt disdain. "Be- 
 sides, everything is a game — shooting, fishing, 
 fox-hunting. They are all different forms of 
 pleasure, and many men live and die for 
 nothing else." 
 
 " Then they ought to be ashamed of them- 
 selves," looking down his nose. 
 
 " I really don't see the harm. There is no 
 
io6 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 sin in them, and I don't know what should 
 keep men from them." 
 
 " Their fellow-creatures." 
 
 " No, Mr. Montague," with a caustic smile, 
 "they would have too many fellow-creatures 
 in the same boat." 
 
 " Poor little kids are kept to lessons before 
 their holidays let them loose. Why should 
 grown up men and women have all holidays, 
 and no work ? " 
 
 " Oh, that's quite natural," with an air of^ 
 relief. " We've gone through all the drudgery, 
 we've crammed our brains with all we want to 
 know, and having left school or college, we 
 are free to enjoy ourselves as we choose." 
 
 " A dangerous doctrine, Miss Pontardent." 
 
 "Not at all, Mr. Montague," tossing her 
 head. " My tennis does no harm to anybody. 
 A good thing if every one could say the same 
 of his favourite vices," with a spiteful glance, 
 as if she looked upon him as the worst of 
 whited sepulchres. 
 
 Jack smiled. "That is walking into new 
 ground. We were not discussing vices." 
 
THE UPAS TREE 107 
 
 "A carping spirit is a vice, and that you 
 must confess you were indulging in." 
 
 He flushed slightly. "If I've been talking 
 like a prig " 
 
 "Not a prig exactly ; but if you must have 
 it," with a gleam of sudden fun, "a hypocrite." 
 
 He opened his large eyes to their fullest 
 extent. " May I ask why ? " 
 
 " Oh, that is easily explained. Of course I 
 go by hearsay. I could not possibly have any 
 private information on the subject ; but, accord- 
 ing to public report, you've done nothing but 
 enjoy yourself for the last three or four years." 
 
 " Have I ? I didn't know it," with sombre 
 gravity, which would have deterred most 
 women from pursuing the subject, but which 
 had the contrary effect on Miss Pontardent. 
 
 " Was it business or pleasure which kept 
 you away, just tell me that ? " her eyes fixed 
 on his face, bright and keen as any retriever's. 
 
 " Pleasure," he answered, with acutest sar- 
 casm, which seemed to stab his own heart — 
 not hers. " I enjoyed myself vastly, without 
 a thought beyond." 
 
io8 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " There, now — didn't I know it ? " she ex- 
 claimed in triumph," and then you come back 
 and preach to poor me ! " 
 
 " Preach ! I never attempted it. But you'll 
 agree with me that there would be very few 
 sermons, if people had to practise what they 
 preached. " 
 
 " No, I won't, Mr. Montague. Take them 
 on an average, and I believe our clergy are a 
 purer, nobler, set of men than any other class 
 in the world. But this is not tennis. 
 As the other side is hopelessly lost in flirta- 
 tion," casting an impatient glance in that 
 direction, " I challenge you to a single. Do 
 you feel equal to it ? " 
 
 " Far from it, but I will venture it," said 
 Jack, moving off to the further side of the 
 net, not unwilling to place himself at a greater 
 distance from Miss Pontardent's tongue. That 
 lady's respect for him rose with his score, and 
 when he nearly succeeded in winning the set, 
 she began to think that there must be some- 
 thing in him after all ! 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD. 
 
 " Well, Di, what do you think of him ? " 
 asked Phil, after the cold collation was over, 
 and they had both strayed into the music-room, 
 to see if it had been properly prepared for 
 dancing. " Isn't he a splendid fellow ? With 
 no nonsense in him ? " 
 
 Di smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. 
 
 " No nonsense, but very little talk either," 
 she said, as she pinned a button-hole in his 
 coat ; ** extravagant boy, to want two a day ! 
 Pray, what became of the other ? " 
 
 " You would like to know, wouldn't you ? " 
 blushing as boys do still, though girls have 
 mostly left it off. "But Montague hard up 
 for talk ? I can't believe it. You must have 
 snubbed him awfully." 
 
no NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "■ Quite the reverse. I was as nice to him 
 as I could be, and he shut up as tight as an 
 oyster that has never been opened. 1 shall 
 never get on with him, I feel sure," a shade of 
 disappointment in her tone. 
 
 Phil looked at her incredulously. " Eot I 
 You would get on with a deaf and dumb man, 
 and even a mummy wouldn't be too much for 
 you." 
 
 " Never mind— his mother is infinitely more 
 interesting. Why are musicians always kte, 
 I wonder ? " 
 
 " Because punctuality is too prosaic a virtue 
 for them," said Phil, carelessly, as he hurried 
 off with a programme in his hand, which he 
 meant to submit to the consideration of a 
 certain Miss Flora Kindersley. He was just 
 of an age to be entirely engrossed with the 
 object of his predilection, and such crumbs of 
 attention as he could spare from Miss Kin- 
 dersley were given to Jack Montague ; so that 
 his sister had much left on her hands. 
 
 She was thankful when the tiresome interval 
 
PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD in 
 
 of waiting was over, and the men, having 
 changed their flannels for correct evening dress 
 of the usual stereotyped style, came trooping 
 into the music-room. The girls tried to look 
 as if they were not anxiously waiting to be 
 selected, and started new topics of conversa- 
 tion with extraordinary vivacity. 
 
 Di was intensely annoyed to see how the 
 pretty or the popular were immediately pro- 
 vided for, whilst others who were less known, 
 or less attractive, were left unclaimed. With 
 unusual magnanimity, she refused to dance 
 until she had introduced many unwilling 
 victims to the partnerless girls ; and when 
 some of the men were so hardened as to resist, 
 she told them with fine disdain, but with a 
 smile that softened its point, that her mother 
 would hire lay-figures for her next entertain- 
 ments, as she did not ask her friends simply 
 to adorn the walls. The veriest lay-figure of 
 them all was willing enough to dance with 
 the daughter of the house, for she was looking 
 very charming in her delicate white muslin 
 
112 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 and pale blue sash; but Di was unselfish to 
 the core, and it destroyed half her pleasure to 
 see her girl-friends sitting down. Montague 
 was one of the worst offenders, but not as 
 culpable as the rest, for he came in late after 
 slipping home to change his things, and 
 naturally lounged in the doorway feeling out 
 of touch with the girls, who had grown out of 
 pigtails and romps into important personages 
 intent upon solemn trois-temps, 
 
 Di saw her opportunity, and pounced upon 
 it. She stood before him, flushed, eager, and 
 deprecating. "You won't disappoint me by 
 standing here like a monument ? " she said, 
 imploringly; and went on, without waiting 
 for an answer, which past experience told her 
 might never come. " Let me introduce you to 
 the dearest girl that ever was/' 
 
 " Haven't I been introduced to her already? " 
 a speech which took her by surprise. 
 
 '' No," severely. " Will you come ? " 
 
 He followed her obediently, and did his 
 duty so nobly, that her eyes often followed 
 
PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD 113 
 
 his revolving figure with delighted admiration. 
 Martyrdom has gone so entirely out of fashion, 
 that a suspicion dawned upon her mind that 
 perhaps after all he was enjoying himself 
 This cooled her admiration, but she still re- 
 garded him with a certain amount of apprecia- 
 tion. For had she not listened to constant 
 lamentations about crowded staircases, and 
 refreshment-rooms, and almost empty ball- 
 rooms, from many a despairing dowager ? 
 
 After the first rather lukewarm start, the 
 evening went on merrily enough, for the 
 loungers against the wall were eager to exert 
 themselves, as soon as they discovered that 
 males were in such a large majority that the 
 girls could do without them. 
 
 Mr. Kindersley looked on with a pleasant 
 smile, and made himself both useful and 
 agreeable after his wonted fashion. Mothers 
 who were beginning to worry about getting 
 home, he promptly took into supper, and so 
 gained another welcome half-hour for the 
 dancers as well as their warmest gratitude. 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
114 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 His life was as good a sermon as ever was 
 preached, and had even more effect on his 
 parishioners than the eloquent discourses he 
 delivered from the pulpit ; for it is a truth 
 not always recognised that a man's actions 
 have more effect than his words. 
 
 Di was resting for a brief interval on a low 
 sofa placed under the shelter of two tall tree- 
 ferns, at the end of a corridor, and Montague, 
 for the first time, was by her side. 
 
 "Might I ask who was that — that in- 
 teresting specimen of humanity whom you 
 allowed to take you into supper ? " he asked, 
 as his eye fell upon a man of almost colossal 
 height, with a heavy, unrefined face, and a 
 large head set upon a short, thick neck. 
 
 " The one rich man of the neighbourhood — 
 Peter Strang ways. He is interesting, though 
 you seem to doubt it." 
 
 " Of course," with a short laugh, " he is 
 rich, and money has an absorbing interest 
 besides that which it brings in." 
 
 '* Personally, I should like him better if he 
 
PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD 115 
 
 were a pauper, thankful for scraps," the girl 
 answered quietly, rather offended by the tone 
 of the last remark. " But a man becomes 
 rather important when you know that thou- 
 sands of men, women, and children, depend 
 upon him for their very existence/' 
 
 "Ah, yes. Strangways — capitalist and 
 manufacturer — must hold the fate of a srood 
 many in his hands. But what do you know 
 of his workmen ? '' looking down into her 
 young eager face, with sudden interest in his 
 grave eyes. 
 
 " I know something — not much, of course," 
 flushing slightly, " But Phil and I saw a 
 good deal of them last winter." 
 
 " You went about the slums in Dainton ? '' 
 he asked in surprise. 
 
 " Of course \ did. We went once out of 
 curiosity, and that sort of thing; but after- 
 wards we could not keep away. I used to lie 
 awake at night thinking of the shivering little 
 children with scarcely any clothes to cover 
 them ; and I felt as if my heart would burst at 
 
ii6 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 the sight of our well-filled breakfast -table the 
 next morning, when I remembered how I had 
 seen them fighting over a stale crust." 
 
 " But why are they so poor ? Strangways 
 must be a miserly brute." 
 
 '' You wouldn^t suspect him of being a 
 miser, but you would know that he was a 
 brute, if you saw Grey towers," her eyes 
 flashing. 
 
 "Is it so very gorgeous ? " 
 
 " It positively reeks of gold. But he shan't 
 go on much longer filling his own greedy 
 pockets with sovereigns, and doling out 
 coppers to his slaves." 
 
 "And how do you propose to stop it?" 
 somewhat amused at a girl's confidence in the 
 happy solution of a problem which had puzzled 
 the brains of a Cardinal, a Bishop, and a 
 Prime Minister, not to mention scores of 
 others in a humbler line of life. 
 
 " Because endurance has its limits, and 
 patience soon becomes folly if carried too far. 
 I mean him at least to raise the wages in his 
 
PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD 117 
 
 factory," she said with the audacity of 
 youth. 
 
 ** And if he refuses ? " 
 
 '' Then, for every child he has starved to 
 death — for every life he has ruined, he shall 
 suffer in the v^ay that will hurt him most," 
 her cheeks glowing, her eyes lighting up like 
 those of a prophetess of old. 
 
 " And what will that way be ? " very 
 quietly. 
 
 " His pet shrubs and flowers shall be rooted 
 up, his gardens turned into a wilderness, his 
 splendid plate-glass windows shall come crash- 
 ing about his ears ; and then, perhaps, he will 
 listen to reason." 
 
 " But there will be no ' reason ' to listen to 
 — only red-hot socialism — which carefully 
 leaves ' reason ' and common- sense out of its 
 programme. You may be a valuable friend to 
 these poor creatures. Miss Witherington, but 
 you would be a dangerous adviser." 
 
 " You would like them to lie down to be 
 trampled on ? " indignantly. 
 
ii8 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " No, let them stand up like men — no good 
 is ever gained by abasement." 
 
 " I don't call it standing up if they don't 
 fight," she said, with a puzzled look in her 
 dark eyes. 
 
 " Don't you ? " with an amused smile. 
 " Brute force is at a discount in a highly 
 civilised country. It never can answer with 
 an efficient police-force, and a standing army 
 behind it." 
 
 *' I thought the only way to produce any 
 effect on Mr. Strangways was to attack his 
 property." 
 
 " You would produce an effect certainly ; 
 but the reverse of what you wanted. If you 
 wish him either to open his heart or his purse- 
 strings, you had better not begin by smashing 
 his doors." 
 
 '' But is there nothing to be done ? " the 
 corners of her mouth drooping. 
 
 " A great deal. But don't let them rise 
 up against the law, if they want it to right 
 them. If you were very hungry, and wanted 
 
PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD 119 
 
 a man to give you his breakfast, you would 
 not get it the sooner because you broke his 
 plate." 
 
 "No, but it might be a good way of 
 attracting his attention," and then she broke 
 out into a low sweet laugh. " He would be 
 obliged to say something, even if he threw the 
 bits at my head." 
 
 " But the china would not do for a break- 
 fast, and he certainly would not give you 
 another." 
 
 " But he would have looked at me ; he 
 would have thought about me, and he would 
 not forget me. Perhaps some day, he would 
 say to himself, ' I wonder why she wanted it 
 so desperately.' " 
 
 " Not likely. I will tell you what he would 
 say : * Tf that little vixen comes here again, I'll 
 hand her over to the police.' " 
 
 " Not if he had a heart." 
 
 " I thought you were going on the supposi- 
 tion that Mr. Strangways and his friends never 
 had one." 
 
I20 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Not I. I am sure the old wretch has a 
 heart, and it shall be the study of my life to 
 get at it. Wish me success ! " 
 
 Montague looked down into her eager face, 
 with a grave smile. '* I don't know what you 
 would do with it." 
 
 "Submit it to some melting process like 
 gold. All the gold of California would be of no 
 use if it were kept in one big lump, and Mr. 
 Strangways' heart will be of no use to him or 
 to any one else until it is softened." 
 
 '' Leave all this to some one else. You don't 
 know what it may lead to," he said, earnestly, 
 as he considered the risk which an enthusiastic, 
 but utterly inexperienced, child would run, in 
 pitting her untried strength against that of a 
 man like Peter Strangways. 
 
 *' Indeed I won't, Mr. Montague," standing 
 up and looking very resolute. *' You don't 
 know much about me, if you think I'm 
 the sort of girl to give anything up for 
 fear of consequences," witli indignant em- 
 phasis. 
 
PHILANTHROPY GONE MAD 121 
 
 Montague's eyes lighted up with intense 
 amusement. " You might be very wise if you 
 did." 
 
 '' I should be a coward, and cowardice I 
 detest. Now let us go back into the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 " Just tell me," as he oftered his arm : " Do 
 you consider consequences less important than 
 actions ? " 
 
 Di bit her lip ; then laughed, as she an- 
 swered evasively : " Some actions have no 
 consequences." 
 
 '' Their number is infinitesimal," said Jack, 
 quietly. 
 
 Di felt crushed, but would have died rather 
 than show it. 
 
 " But I'm of no consequence, and my actions 
 follow suit," she said quickly. 
 
 Then a partner came to claim her, and she 
 went off with him as eagerly as if she were 
 escaping from an enemy. 
 
 But when she went to bed that night, or 
 rather morning, the compliments which had 
 
122 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 been paid her so freely by otber partners had 
 passed from her recollection, while her conver- 
 sation with Jack Montague intruded into her 
 dreams, and she woke with a half antagonistic 
 feeling towards her brother's great ally. 
 
CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 THE RECTOR SPEAKS HIS MIND. ' 
 
 The rectory was a pretty, many-gabled house, 
 half covered with creepers, with large bow- 
 windows to let in the light, which the magnolia 
 and the Grloire de Dijon were endeavouring to 
 keep out. 
 
 The Rector was frowning over a letter which 
 had just been given him by Mason, the facto- 
 tum of the household, but he looked up with a 
 cordial smile as Montague came in. 
 
 "What is the matter? Anything gone 
 wrong ? " asked Jack, as soon as they had 
 shaken hands. 
 
 " Yes ;" as he pulled forward a comfortable 
 chair for his guest, and threw himself into 
 another. " Strang ways has put his back up. 
 
124 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 as I half thought he would, and refuses to 
 give a subscription to our school. This is a 
 great blow to us, as Pemberton, who used to 
 live at Grey towers before him, was one of our 
 most liberal supporters." 
 
 " The fellow seems an out and out brute. 
 Does he say that he can't afford it ? " with a 
 sarcastic smile. 
 
 " No, he goes in for tall-talk ; grudges the 
 Church a monopoly of education, in the first 
 place ; and in the second, prefers to pay his own 
 proper share of a rate for a national necessity, 
 than to pander to the prejudices of what he is 
 pleased, by George, to call ' a minority,' by pre- 
 senting me with a thumping subscription ! " 
 
 " I presume that he would not object to a 
 monopoly of boots and shoes, or whatever 
 commodity he deals in ? " 
 
 " Not he. He would be the very man to 
 start a corner in chemicals, or minerals, or 
 anything else if he could, and never stop to 
 consider how he was starving out the rest of 
 the trade. God forgive me if I do the man 
 
THE RECTOR SPEAKS HIS MIND 125 
 
 injustice ; but he brags about self-interest as if 
 it were the only object in life, and whenever 
 we try after something higher, he puts his 
 thundering foot down and tries to stop us." 
 
 " Simply because you get beyond his focus," 
 said Jack, reflectively. '^ But as to education, 
 I get fairly fogged myself. IVe knocked 
 about the world, and seen the worst results 
 from the want of it ; but I come back to 
 England to find almost every woman of my 
 acquaintance lifting up her voice against it. 
 An old friend of mine, Mrs. Kingston, declares 
 that she can't have her rooms properly dusted, 
 because her housemaid sits down to the school- 
 room piano, whenever her back is turned." 
 
 ^^ I should lock it, and keep the key in my 
 pocket.'' 
 
 " But that would be an awful nuisance. 
 My sister Em told me that she had a cook, 
 who let the cutlets burn to cinders, whilst she 
 was studying a chapter of French history. 
 Can you wonder if she says that over-education 
 is the bane of the present century ? " 
 
126 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " I don't wonder at all, but I should ask 
 Lady Wildgrave to choose another term," the 
 Eector said, with a smile. "It is not over- 
 education but wrong education that she ought 
 to grumble at. You can cram a man, but you 
 cannot over-educate him. Every man ought 
 to be educated to the full extent of his ability ; 
 but the result will be disastrous if you don't 
 start from a Christian basis. That is why I 
 intend to fight to the death against these 
 School Boards. I'd sell my coat to save this 
 village from the desecration of a Board School 
 sent to us by a forced majority in Parliament, 
 when Dissenters joined hands with Agnostics 
 and Atheists, rather than forget their old 
 grudge against the Church. They preferred 
 the risk of turning their children into Atheistic 
 prigs, with no respect for God or man, to the 
 far-off chance of their developing into good 
 Churchmen ; and many broken-hearted mothers 
 are now paying for that fatal mistake." 
 
 Kindersley stood up and planted himself on 
 the hearth-rug, his face glowing with resentment. 
 
THE RECTOR SPEAKS HIS MIND 127 
 
 " You don't think that the Government were 
 to blame in going in for compulsory educa- 
 tion ? '' Jack asked, after a pause, during 
 which he had quietly been smoking the cigar- 
 ette which the Rector had handed to him. 
 '' I'm a Conservative myself, but I don't 
 really see how they could help it. There 
 seemed to be a genuine demand for it, and the 
 supply, I suppose, had to be settled by the 
 demand." 
 
 "Not a doubt of it. The demand was 
 perfectly irresistible, and it would have been 
 criminal to withstand it. What I insist upon 
 is this, that education and religion should go 
 hand in hand, and the man who forces them 
 asunder to please a certain party in politics, 
 proves himself a traitor to his country. Why 
 do you suppose that in the proudest times of 
 our national greatness the key-note of success 
 has been the word * duty ' ? The heroes of 
 the Elizabethan age were stimulated to their 
 noble actions simply by a sense of duty. 
 ' Duty ' formed the spur to Nelson's fleet. 
 
128 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 Wellington's despatches teemed with the same 
 talisman — all the foreign papers commented 
 on the fact, but to the Englishman there was 
 nothing surprising in it ; it was only natural. 
 The farmer spoke of his duty to his land, the 
 groom of his duty to his horses. From what 
 source did they get this incentive ? Why, 
 from the old Church catechism, of course, 
 which told them their duty towards God, and 
 their duty towards their neighbour. It is 
 quite perfect. There's nothing like it in the 
 language. If you want a proof of it, try and 
 write a better definition yourself Under the 
 system of the School Board education it is 
 forbidden. The very word ' duty ' will in a 
 short time lose its power, fall into disuse, and 
 be forgotten." 
 
 *' Isn't this rather a pessimistic view ? " 
 '' I'm afraid not. All the ologies put to- 
 gether will not make up for Creed or Cate- 
 chism. On those two I take my stand as a 
 Christian, and without them education is little 
 better than poison. It makes my blood run 
 
THE RECTOR SPEAKS HIS MIND 129 
 
 cold to think that it is the children of the 
 present day, who are having this poison forced 
 into their innocent minds ; and those men 
 who have taken this awful responsibility on 
 their shoulders, though they may not live to 
 see the disastrous consequences which are 
 hound to follow, will yet have to answer for 
 them before God," passing his hand over his 
 broad forehead with a heavy sigh. 
 
 "But your pet Sunday-schools," suggested 
 Jack, by way of comfort. "Would not they 
 supply the antidote ? " 
 
 " You can't rely upon them, for this reason. 
 The children are driven either with, or against 
 their will, to a scliool where they are carefully 
 taught that religion is of the least possible 
 importance in their education ; but when they 
 are invited to a Sunday-school, where they 
 would be properl}'- instructed in the faith of 
 their fathers, and taught to be dutiful at home, 
 and good citizens in after life, then a free 
 choice being allowed them, the natural result 
 is that they refuse to come ! " 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
I30 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " In fact, Government says to them in plain 
 English, * You shall not be dunces — that I 
 forbid ; but as to whether you are good or 
 bad, I don't care a hang.' Do you know, 
 Kindersley, I never thought of it in that light 
 before," said Montague, leaning back in his 
 chair. " Secular education is as bad as a pipe 
 stuffed full of tobacco, without a match to set 
 it alight." 
 
 '* Much worse, Jack," with a grave shake of 
 the head. " The unlit pipe would do neither 
 harm nor good, whilst the other is absolutely 
 destructive. It teaches the children to do 
 without God six days in the week, so why 
 should they want Him on Sunday ? " 
 
 '^ You mean to say that the children are 
 not taught to be Christians in the Board 
 schools ? " Montague asked in dismay. " Then 
 what on earth did the Dissenters mean by 
 hanging on to the coat-tails of the Secularists?" 
 
 The Rector shrugged his shoulders. " Their 
 bogey was dogmatic teaching, their plea that 
 religious instruction was the mother's province. 
 
THE RECTOR SPEAKS HIS MIND 131 
 
 Fancy an over-worked drudge imparting the 
 truths of Christianity over the wash-tub ! 
 Fancy a poor creature with tired legs and 
 aching back,after a long day's charing, stopping 
 to give an exposition of the Faith before she 
 hurried the sleepy brats off to bed ! " 
 
 *' And mothers are not always ideal examples 
 of piety, are they ? Eeeling home from a pub. 
 a woman's just in the right state to teach the 
 fifth commandment ! " 
 
 The Rector frowned ; but after a few 
 minutes, he looked up with his usual winning 
 smile. "We must keep up our pluck, and 
 never yield an inch. If Strangways won't 
 help us, we will do without him. If Vivian 
 and I don't have a holiday this autumn, we 
 shall enjoy it all the more when we get it 
 next year." 
 
 " But hang it all ! You shan't be worked 
 to death just for the sake of a few pounds," 
 exclaimed Montague, as he threw away his 
 cigarette, and put his hand into his pocket. 
 " Don't imagine that I grudge the tin, but 
 
132 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 it does strike me as a beastly shame, that all 
 the burden should fall on half-a-dozen shoulders, 
 instead of being equalised by a rate.'' 
 
 " If we could get a Christian education by 
 it, I should say, ' rate us by all means,' but as 
 wc can't, I'm not going to sell my principles 
 for the sake of a bank note." 
 
 "No, and we won't let this confounded 
 capitalist imagine that we are all going to 
 knock under to him," said Montague sternly, 
 as he picked up his hat. 
 
 *^ What do you know of him ? You've 
 scarcely met him," said the Eector, glancing at 
 Jack with a puzzled look in his eyes. 
 
 " I know that he treats his work-people like 
 slaves, grudges them the necessaries of life, 
 and lives in luxury at Greytowers." 
 
 " If he does not treat them fairly it will be 
 very bad for himself in the end. Strikes are 
 the Nemesis of employers like Strangways ; 
 and the hard treatment which drives his hands 
 to desperation, propels him each day a little 
 nearer to his ruin. I'm neither a Eadical nor 
 
THE RECTOR SPEAKS HIS MIND 133 
 
 a Socialist, but when the crash comes, my 
 sympathies will be on the side of the men, and 
 not of such masters." 
 
 " And so will mine, by Jove ! " exclaimed 
 Montague, quickly. "The man who is mean 
 to the fellows who bring him in all his cash, 
 would be intolerable in every other relation of 
 life. I pity his wife, if he gets one." 
 
 "" A Croesus never need be a bachelor," 
 
 " Ah, but he mayn't get the wife that he 
 wants," with a nod of satisfaction. 
 
 " Does Strangways want any one in par- 
 ticular ? " the Eector asked in surprise, won- 
 dering how Montague could come to know of 
 it, even if he did. 
 
 " Judging by the man's opinion of himself, 
 I should think he would look out for a piece 
 of perfection. But I know nothing about it," 
 he added hastily, after looking at the geraniums 
 in the garden with absent eyes. 
 
 " It might be the saving of him," said 
 Kindersley, thoughtfully. 
 
 '' Yes, but it might be the reverse as to the 
 
134 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 wife. Good gracious, Kindersley, you don't 
 mean to say you would sacrifice any girl in 
 the parish for the sake of getting your school ? " 
 indignantly. 
 
 The Eector laughed. " See what we are 
 driven to by the strength of desire 1 My 
 advice would not be asked, so that I might 
 tie the nuptial knot with clean hands and a 
 clear conscience." 
 
 " Don't talk of it. I am off to stay with my 
 sister to-morrow, but I will send you a cheque 
 before I start, '^ moving towards the door. 
 
 " Awfully good of you. You will know me 
 soon for the most unabashed beggar that ever 
 breathed." 
 ^ " Nonsense, Tm only too proud to do it." 
 
 " Queer fellow ! " was the Eecfcor's comment, 
 after accompanying Montague to the garden 
 gate. " A thoroughly religious man at heart, 
 and yet why in the name of goodness does he 
 stay away from church ! " 
 
CHAPTER VIIT. 
 
 TAKING CARE OF OTHER PEOPLe's PROPERTY. 
 
 " Jack, do you mind Hurlingham ? " Lady 
 Wildgrave asked as she stood before him one 
 Saturday afternoon, in all the glory of a helio- 
 trope costume fresh from the artistic hands of 
 Kate Reily. A. dainty little bonnet of 
 different shades of heliotrope scented with the 
 perfume of the natural flower, crowned her 
 gold-brown curls ; and a sun-shade of delicate 
 flummery corresponding in colour, and entirely 
 transparent, was to protect all this elegance 
 from the sun and the dust. 
 
 To Montague, it seemed as if his sister 
 belonged to quite a different world from the 
 one he had left behind him at Derwent's Cray ; 
 and it was with rather an effort, that he 
 
136 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 brought his mind into a proper attitude for 
 admiration and enjoyment. But he answered 
 cordially enough that it was ages since he had 
 been to Hurlingham, and he should like to go 
 there immensely. 
 
 " What's up to-day— polo ? '' 
 
 '' No ; that is to say I'm not quite sure. I 
 only know that Dandy is going to shoot 
 pigeons, and I've promised to look at him. 
 He would never forgive me if I didn't turn 
 up." 
 
 ''And is that a terrible look-out?" asked 
 Jack, with a fraternal dryness in his tone. 
 
 " Now look here, Jack ! " holding up a 
 forefinger as a warning, whilst an unmistakable 
 blush flew to her small face, though she raised 
 her eyes bravely ; "no cold water for Dandy, 
 I beg of you. We are cousins b}^ marriage, 
 and the best of friends by mutual attraction, 
 and I can't do without him," she wound up 
 abruptly. 
 
 "All right, if Wildgrave doesn't object," 
 said Montague, with a careless shrug of his 
 
CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S PROPERTY 137 
 
 shoulders, meant to conceal his more serious 
 sentiments. 
 
 " Wildgrave ! " exclaimed the Viscount's 
 better half, with any amount of disdain ex- 
 pressed by her curling lip ; " you don't suppose 
 he would grudge me my one little bit of con- 
 solation. That would be ' real mean,' as 
 Bessie Bateman says." 
 
 " Consolation, Em ? What for ? I thought 
 you were happier than any mortal ever was 
 before ? " studying his sister with new interest. 
 
 '^ And so I am," quickly, as if ready to deny 
 an unspoken accusation. "But that's no 
 reason why I should not want dear old Dandy. 
 He saves Wildgrave such heaps of trouble. I 
 was wild to hear De Eeszke, but I was told 
 there was not the chance of a ticket. Dandy 
 managed it though, he always does. You see 
 it's Wildgrave's duty to look after me, and 
 that's why he doesn't like it. It isn't Dandy's, 
 so it doesn't bother him at all." 
 
 Montague thought of his last discussion 
 with the Rector, and remembered with a grim 
 
138 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 smile that his brother-in-law had not been 
 brought up at a Board school. Was the Eton 
 curriculum as bad ? 
 
 " Then, for heaven's sake, why didn't you 
 marry this fellow Penrose, instead of his 
 cousin ? " he broke out with energy. 
 
 Emmeline answered with an amused laugh : 
 
 " Dear old boy ! you are so hopelessly behind 
 the times. If I had been Lady Eaymond 
 Penrose, Wildgrave would have been only too 
 delighted to get all my tickets for me. It 
 sounds so unselfish — doesn't it ? — to be always 
 taking care of other people's property ? " look- 
 ing up at her brother's grave face with twink- 
 ling eyes. 
 
 *' I never heard of that defence being set up 
 for the receivers of stolen goods, or even for 
 pickpockets," he said drily. 
 
 " Ah, but they do it on the sly, whilst we 
 are open as the day," she said with pride and 
 evident sincerity. 
 
 " Yes, you haven't even the grace to be 
 ashamed," with grave disapproval in his eyes. 
 
CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S PROPERTY 139 
 
 ''No," with insulted dignity. ''I shall 
 wait till I've done something wrong." 
 
 " My dear child, you mean no harm, of 
 course," he said, hastily. 
 
 " Why, of course ? " facing round upon hira 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, because you are a Montague," rather 
 taken aback, " the daughter of the best of 
 mothers, and " 
 
 *' But you are her son, and have you never 
 done anything wrong ? " fixing her eyes upon 
 his face, and seeing it change. 
 
 *'I was not talking of myself," stiffly, but 
 with such a look of pain as softened her heart 
 at once, whilst it excited her curiosity to the 
 highest pitch. 
 
 "No, because it is so much more amusing 
 to pick somebody else to pieces," she said with 
 a merry laugh. And then she went up to 
 him, and put her tiny hand caressingly on his 
 coat-sleeve. ''Don't be nasty. Jack. Dandy 
 and I are the properest people under the sun, 
 and you know I must have somebody to look 
 
I40 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 after me, or else/' in almost a whisper, with a 
 suspicion of tears in her eyes, " I might be 
 rather lonely." 
 
 He stooped and kissed her affectionately, 
 with anything but affectionate feelings towards 
 his brother-in-law. " Only take care, little 
 woman, and don't get yourself talked about," 
 he said gently. 
 
 "But I have," she said, with a little nod. 
 " Somebody called me the ' prude of Grosve- 
 nor Place.' " 
 
 " In sarcasm ? " 
 
 "No sir, in a grumble, because I did not 
 come up to his idea of the woman of the 
 day. And now let us be off. We won't wait 
 any longer," going to the bell, and giving 
 it an imperative pull. 
 
 " What have we been waiting for ? " Jack 
 asked, as he walked to the window. 
 
 " Only for Wildgrave," she said carelessly. 
 *' I thought he might drop in." 
 
 Montague had much food for reflection 
 during the course of the afternoon. He 
 
CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S PROPERTY 141 
 
 became very uneasy about his sister, for he 
 could see, in spite of her affected cheerfulness, 
 that all her glad content was gone ; and the 
 few words that had passed between them, 
 made him fear lest this was caused by her 
 husband's neglect. He had felt rather a 
 contempt for " the little whipper-snapper " on 
 his first introduction, and wondered what Em 
 could see to admire in him, but as brothers 
 rarely can understand a sister's choice, he did 
 not disturb his mind about it. His mother 
 seemed perfectly satisfied with her son-in-law, 
 and Em with her husband, and that was 
 enough for him. But he was very fond of 
 his sister, and the slightest suspicion of her 
 unhappiness spoilt his enjoyment for the rest 
 of the afternoon. He looked on with the air 
 of a cynic at the pigeon shooting, watched to 
 see if some of the women had not the grace to 
 shudder, when a bird carried its wounded winp- 
 in laboured flight over the black boards to die 
 in slow pain in some unseen corner, listened 
 with disapproving ears to the Babel of voices. 
 
142 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 as large sums of money were wagered on the 
 chances of every shot; and fell to con- 
 sidering in the most inopportune fashion how 
 every " pony " thrown away by the beardless 
 boy, a few yards from him, would have meant 
 rescue from starvation for many a desolate 
 home in the slums ; and yet only a few years 
 ago, he had joined in it all with thorough 
 enjoyment, and squandered his money as gaily, 
 if not as recklessly, as any well-known 
 ** plunger " in the well-dressed crowd. 
 
 " Em, I wonder how you can stand it," he 
 broke out almost involuntarily. " A dead 
 partridge was too much for you once, when 
 you found it lying in the stubble." 
 
 " I'm hardening. Jack, and I advise you to 
 do the same. I've given up nerves as some- 
 thing I can't afford," she said quietly. 
 
 '* A hard woman is the most detestable 
 thing on earth." 
 
 " A soft one is a target for every shot." 
 
 " You talk as if every one were shooting at 
 every one else." 
 
CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S PROPERTY 143 
 
 *' So they are. Look at Wildgrave now. 
 He mayn't be aiming at me, but I'm his 
 target nevertheless. Not that I mind it/' 
 she added, with more haste than veracity. 
 
 He followed the direction of her eyes, and 
 saw the Viscount talking with unusual anima- 
 tion to a tall woman with flashing eyes and 
 brilliant complexion, who was the wife of one 
 of the secretaries at the Spanish Embassy. 
 Wildgrave looked a mere pigmy by her side, 
 but she evidently possessed to an unusual 
 extent the attraction which all big women 
 have, more or less, for little men. 
 
 A regret flashed through Montague's mind. 
 He was sorry that his brother-in-law was so 
 small, because he felt instinctively that he 
 would have to thrash him one day, and he was 
 conscious that it would not look well to attack 
 a man who was half his size. However the 
 difficulty would have to be got over, if the 
 latter did not know how to behave himself. 
 He looked from Lord Wildgrave with his 
 Spanish beauty, to Em, who was now chatting 
 
144 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 most cheerfully with a fair, rather aristocratic- 
 looking young man, who had slipped into his 
 own chair when he unwarily left it for an 
 instant. Jack looked him over from head to 
 foot with critical eyes, feeling sure that this 
 was "Dandy," the man whom he never 
 thought of, except as "that insolent puppy." 
 He was not very good-looking — that was one 
 great comfort — and in spite of prejudice, Mon- 
 tague decided that he looked just the sort of 
 fellow who could be a friend to even a charm- 
 ing cousin by marriage, without trying on any 
 sentimental nonsense. 
 
 Em looked up at him with a smile, and 
 introduced the two men to each other. Lord 
 Eaymond studied Montague with his lazy 
 blue eyes, and then said slowly, " They tell 
 me you are a first-rate shot. I am sorry you 
 were here to see how I muffed it." 
 
 " Oh, there's something tricky about shoot- 
 ing a pigeon out of these traps. They often 
 comfort weak-minded lookers-on by telling them 
 that the odds are in favour of the pigeon." 
 
CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S PROPERTY 145 
 
 " By the weak-minded, understand me," said 
 Lady Wildgrave, standing up. " Let us go 
 back to the lawn and have some ices, to soothe 
 ray nerves. But you weren't in good form to- 
 day, Dandy. I would have given anything 
 to see you beat that horrid man." 
 
 "That 'horrid man' was first at Monte 
 Carlo ; and he will be first to-day. The cads 
 have all the luck," he said, with a trifle of 
 swagger. '' But we have our compensations. 
 Yoit wouldn't have backed him, would you, 
 even if you had been cock-sure as to the win ?" 
 
 " Nothing would have induced me — unless 
 I had been bankrupt in gloves," she added as 
 an after-thought. " But tell me, what do you 
 think of Jack?" 
 
 *' Capital fellow — real good sort," after a 
 hasty look over his shoulder to ascertain if 
 Montague were out of ear-shot. " But has 
 he gone in for the serious line ? He looked 
 as if he thought we were a pack of sinners, 
 and had half a mind to tell us so." 
 
 *' Jack is the dearest fellow alive." 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
146 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Then I'm sure I can't afford him," very 
 gravely. 
 
 " Don't attempt to be funny at his ex- 
 pense," severely. 
 
 " Oh, but expense doesn't matter to him." 
 
 "How? I don't understand you." 
 
 " There is so much in him. He could pay 
 it back with interest." 
 
 " You are right ; and it would be in very 
 different coin. But listen," looking at him 
 with serious eyes, " you are to like him ever 
 so much." 
 
 " I'll make a point of it," with decision ; 
 " but will he like me ? — that is the ques- 
 tion." 
 
 " I told him that we were great allies." 
 
 " You didn't ! He must have hated me on 
 the spot," looking excruciated. 
 
 " He might have given me credit for good 
 taste," with an offended air. 
 
 " He might, if he had been any one but a 
 brother. Well, it is hopeless now ; but I will 
 do my very best," looking resigned. 
 
CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S PROPERTY 147 
 
 " Please don't tri/ to like him, for you are 
 sure to hate him like poison." 
 
 Lord Raymond smiled. " Rather hard to 
 please, aren't you ? " 
 
 " I never said you bored me," with a mis- 
 chievous glance from under her long lashes. 
 
 A slight quiver about his fair moustaches 
 was the only sign that Dandy heard, and 
 appreciated the flattering innuendo. 
 
 There was a sudden influx from the polo- 
 ground, and several friends came up anxious to 
 share the umbrella under which Em had taken 
 her position. She was glad to see her brother 
 amongst them, and also thankful to perceive 
 that what she called '' the expression of the 
 modern moraliser " had passed from his face. 
 He evidently was feeling more at home in his 
 surroundings, and the meeting with old 
 friends, not seen for many years, was pleasant 
 to him. 
 
 Lady Wildgrave was the centre of an 
 admiring circle, and she looked as if she had 
 not a care in the world. Her frock was the 
 
148 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 prettiest on the lawn ; her small jokes were 
 received as the purest wit ; her notice was 
 canvassed for by some of the smartest men 
 about town, her opinion was taken on matters 
 she did not understand in the least, and yet as 
 they drove home through the lengthening 
 shadows, the lirst sound she uttered was a 
 sigh ! 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PRAYER-BOOK PARADE. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, and the brother 
 and sister had begun the day of rest appropri- 
 ately by having a particularly late breakfast. 
 Late as it was, it seemed to be too soon for 
 the master of the house, who might be sup- 
 posed to be indulging in quiet meditation, 
 which only his own man was allowed to 
 disturb. 
 
 ^' Well, Em, what is the programme?" 
 Montague asked, as he came to the door of 
 the smoking-room, when he heard his sister's 
 light step on the stairs. 
 
 " I am going to S. Paul's, Knightsbridge," 
 she said, with an air of reproof, as she 
 buttoned her gloves. ''As it is fine I mean 
 
ISO NO COMPROMISE 
 
 to walk, for I make it a rule never to have a 
 carriage out on Sunday morning, unless I 
 want it badly." 
 
 She was feeling very virtuous as she made 
 this announcement, and she fancied that the 
 whiteness of her own conduct stood out in 
 effective relief against the blackness of his. 
 
 " What a work of art ! '' he exclaimed, as 
 he took her prayer-book from her hand, and 
 examined it closely. It was of white vellum, 
 with an elaborately chased silver cross, set 
 with amethysts, on the left corner of the cover ; 
 and the silver was so cut that it shone like 
 diamonds. " Any one can see you coming 
 when you've this in your hand ; but why 
 so large ? " 
 
 ** Dandy gave it to me on purpose for 
 ' Prayer-book Parade,' and nobody would see 
 it if it were too small." 
 
 He opened his eyes to their widest extent. 
 " What on earth do you mean ? " 
 
 " How absurd not to know ! Why, every- 
 body goes to the park after service on Sunday 
 
PRAYER-BOOK PARADE 151 
 
 morning, and prayer-books are the great 
 feature of the entertainment. You and 
 Wildgrave had better come to meet me, and 
 then you shall see for yourself." 
 
 "What time?" 
 
 " Let me see " — frowning in the effort to 
 remember — "I haven't been to S. Paul's just 
 lately — about half-past twelve, I suppose, or a 
 quarter to one." 
 
 " Then there is no Celebration ? " 
 
 " Oh, 1 shan't wait for that, it would make 
 me quite too late for the parade," she said 
 carelessly, and then hurried down the stairs, 
 quite unconscious of the effect her words had 
 produced upon her brother. 
 
 He went back into the snug little room, 
 which was delightfully cosy in winter with its 
 Turkish curtains and luxurious lounges ; but 
 to-day it seemed stuffy to him, so he took his 
 cigar surreptitiously up the stairs, through the 
 large drawing-room, and out on to the balcony. 
 The church bells were going in every direction, 
 the mellow notes calling to the busy as well 
 
152 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 as to the idle, to the rich as well as to the 
 poor, to the happy as well as to the sorrowful ; 
 just to step aside out of the world for an hour 
 or two, and let the stream of business or 
 pleasure go on without them. 
 
 Jack was glad when they ceased, for he 
 could not shut his ears to their call, and yet 
 he was held back from obeying it. Long after 
 the bells were silent they echoed in his heart, 
 as he sat there under the red and white striped 
 awning, with the scent of Em's mignonette in 
 his nostrils, and the green, but somewhat 
 smoke-dried, beauty of the Palace gardens, 
 before his eyes. He was not like his host, 
 dividing his time between the Pink ' Tin, his 
 betting-bookj his cigarette, and dreams of the 
 Spanish Beauty, whilst lying on a sofa in 
 dressing-gown and slippers. On the other 
 hand, he had no particular business or pleasure 
 to engross his thoughts. The book which he 
 had brought out with him lay unopened on 
 his knee, and in fancy he was listening to the 
 wave of prayer which was rising from the lips 
 
PRAYER-BOOK PARADE 153 
 
 of priest and people, in the crowded churches 
 of the neighbourhood. Was he for ever to 
 stand outside, and only catch the echo through 
 an unclosed door — like a pariah unfit for a 
 nearer approach to the Sanctuary ? 
 
 Before he could conjecture any answer to 
 the question, the heat of the morning and the 
 tranquil buzzing of a bee proved too much for 
 him. His book slipped down on to the floor, 
 and lay prone on its face in an uncomfortable 
 attitude ; his head found an agreeable nook in 
 the cushion of his chair ; and in a few minutes 
 he was in full enjoyment of a stolen nap, un- 
 marred by any supercilious stare. 
 
 An hour passed. Doors opened and shut, 
 but they failed to disturb the sleeper. Pres- 
 ently Lord Wildgrave emerged from the 
 privacy of his dressing-room, and the whole 
 house resounded with his shouts of " Mon- 
 tague I Montague 1 Where are you ? " 
 
 Jack roused himself, and looked sheepishly 
 up at his brother-in-law, when he at last made 
 his way to the balcony. He was ashamed, as 
 
154 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 for some unaccountable reason every one is, at 
 being caught asleep at an odd moment. The 
 two men, who formed such a curious contrast 
 to each other, walked off together, came up to 
 Lady Wildgrave just as she was standing on 
 the steps of the church, and conducted her to 
 the park. The pathway was crowded with 
 women in the smartest toilettes ; and mothers 
 brought their children to show off their 
 Sunday frocks, and lose whatever good they 
 might have derived from the sermons they had 
 just heard, in the chit-chat of the world. 
 
 It was a very successful gathering that 
 morning, for the weather indulged in no 
 vagaries, and some event had happened in the 
 social world which every one was dying to 
 discuss with his neighbour. The subject was 
 not an edifjdng one, but as it was discussed in 
 loud tones, as well as cautious whispers, the 
 children knew all about it by the time they 
 went home ; and one little girl of ten, who 
 still preserved enough of her youth to find 
 pleasure in a doll's-house, the very next day 
 
PRAYER-BOOK PARADE 155 
 
 divorced the pink-and-white, flaxen-haired 
 bride from the black- bearded bridegroom, 
 whom she had only married the week before. 
 This caused much less disturbance in a doll's 
 house than in a house of bricks and mortar, 
 inhabited by mortals of flesh and blood, so 
 that the child is likely to grow up with very 
 erroneous and frivolous ideas on one of the 
 gravest questions of the day. And those who 
 will live to see the blight fall on that girl's 
 after-life, will never guess that the first taint 
 fell on her innocence when she stood by her 
 mother's side, looking like a milliner's model, 
 with a sweet cherub face, and with eager, 
 childish ears drank in the gossip, which that 
 same careless mother was hearing from the lips 
 of a grey-haired diplomat. 
 
 Lord Wildgrave had been walking in true 
 conjugal fashion with his wife, who could 
 always keep him amused when there was no 
 one whom he particularly fancied within view. 
 But directly he sighted a certain lady in black 
 and yellow, who was walking with the grace 
 
156 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 peculiar to a Spaniard, he looked round to see 
 if Jack or Dandy were in attendance on Em, 
 and, with the confidence of a bird on the wing 
 to its nest, made straight for the object of his 
 admiration. 
 
 Emmeline gave an impatient sigh. 
 
 '' Tired ? " asked Dandy, laconically. 
 
 "Not in the least, I'm enjoying myself 
 immensely. I must say this for Wildgrave,'* 
 she added meditatively, "he is a person of 
 great tact. He always knows where to supply 
 the least taste of acid to prevent life from 
 being too nauseously sweet." 
 
 "That is a great virtue," said Lord Eaymond, 
 quietly, having enough tact of his own to 
 know that if he took any notice of the drift of 
 the remark, he would be sure to be snubbed 
 for his pains. " By-the-by, your brother has 
 not come properly equipped to-day. He 
 ought to have a big Bible under his arm, or 
 else not to appear at all." 
 
 " Poor Jack; just because he isn't quite as 
 empty-headed as we are, you think him a fit 
 subject to sharpen your wit on." 
 
PRAYER-BOOK PARADE 157 
 
 " Confess tliat only yesterday lie looked as 
 if he had a sermon on the tip of his tongue." 
 
 " And you, as if you had never heard one 
 in the whole course of your life." 
 
 " Possibly, because I couldn't look bored 
 when I was talking to you," a smile peeping 
 from under the shade of his moustaches. 
 
 " That isn't what I meant at all. If you 
 had only been in S. Paul's to-day ! " 
 
 *^ So you heard a good one, did you ? " 
 slowly. " What difference did it make ? " 
 
 " Difference ? How do you mean ? " look- 
 ing up at him with puzzled eyes. 
 
 " Are you going to put off all the people 
 who are engaged to dine with you to-night ? " 
 
 " No, why should I ? It is a great thing to 
 get the Blanks, and Sunday is the only day 
 they are free." 
 
 '* I thought perhaps you would like to read 
 a sermon in the solitude of an empty drawing- 
 room. Do you think Mr. What's-his-name at 
 S. Paul's would approve of a Sunday dinner- 
 party ? " 
 
 '' \i you don't, you can stay away," fidgeting 
 
158 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 rather uneasily on the chair which she had 
 appropriated as soon as her husband left 
 her. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm an incorrigible sinner/' with a 
 shrug of his shoulders, as if it were rather a 
 distinction, '' whilst he, I suppose, is more or 
 less of a saint. But tell me," leaning forward 
 as if with a great desire for information, " why 
 go and listen to his eloquence, if it only makes 
 you uncomfortable ? " 
 
 " Who says that I am uncomfortable ? " 
 feeling exceedingly irritated at the remark, 
 because there was a pinch of truth in it. 
 
 " A sense of discomfort radiates from you. 
 You have even inducted a scrap of vitality 
 into my own conscience, which I thought had 
 taken a lasting narcotic. You know we are 
 a set of perfectly useless beings," with his 
 head on one side, as he prodded the gravel 
 with his stick. 
 
 " Speak for yourself. It is quite enough 
 for me to look after a large house like mine," 
 she said proudly. 
 
PRAYER-^OOK PARADE 159 
 
 " But you don't look after it, really — you 
 leave all that to your housekeeper. Now, I 
 can say this for myself, I help to keep my 
 tailor going, and I am a fortune to the hansom- 
 cabbies. I shan't die quite unlamented.'' 
 
 " I'm afraid neither of those things could 
 procure you a resting-place in the Abbey," she 
 said sarcastically. '* But you are not ready for 
 it yet — and before the end " 
 
 "The end? Oh, bother the man!" he 
 grumbled, angrily, as Charlie Kingston came 
 up with the evident intention of disturbing 
 his own monopoly of the Viscountess. 
 
 Lady Wildgrave received him with her 
 most cordial smile — for Dandy in his new 
 mood was anything but a lively companion. 
 She thought him over anxiously, whilst she 
 was apparently engrossed with all the other 
 friends who gathered round her, and came to 
 the conclusion that there must be certainly 
 something wrong with his liver. Later in 
 the day, if she had two minutes private con- 
 versation with him, she resolved to advise him 
 to send for a doctor. 
 
i6o NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " It is ever so nice to see you again, Mr. 
 Montague." And Ida Kingston threw a 
 distinctly tender expression into her dark eyes 
 — for the benefit of the old friend whom she 
 had not met for so many years. She was 
 neither pretty nor plain, l3ut looked as if she 
 were personally as much a product of the 
 present fashion in girls, as her butterfly- 
 bonnet and much be- wrapped gown were 
 in their own particular line. She was up 
 to date in every way, and Jack studied her 
 with much internal amusement, as if she were 
 a new specimen of humanity, which had 
 sprung up with mushroom - like rapidity 
 during his absence. He had a vague idea that 
 after all the Ida Kingston whom he remem- 
 bered with the manners of a tomboy and the 
 legs of a giraffe, was more to his taste. In 
 spite of a remarkably gaudy prayer-book in 
 her hand, she talked very much as if she were 
 a heathen, complained of wasting the sweet- 
 ness of such a morning in a stuffy church, 
 and presently opened the book to show what 
 
PRAYER-BOOK PARADE i6i 
 
 a portrait gallery she had collected on the fly- 
 leaf. '^ You see I didn't waste my time, after 
 all." 
 
 Jack took the prayer-book in his hand, and 
 looked at it gravely. There was a direct 
 honesty about him which made it hard for 
 him to hide his sentiments. " Capital — very 
 clever ; though I've not seen that man, I'm 
 sure you've hit off his expression exactly. 
 But, after all," with a smile, *' there might be 
 two opinions about the waste. I suppose the 
 service was going on ? " 
 
 " Not the prayers — the sermon was, of 
 course." 
 
 " Supposing you had got up a lecture, and 
 were giving it forth for the benefit of a 
 crowded hall, would you like it if nobody 
 listened ? " 
 
 " I should shut up, and close the meeting 
 at once," with great decision. 
 
 " But a parson can't do that, so you have 
 him at a disadvantage." 
 
 "Excuse me, if I had known that you had 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
i62 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 gone in for the serious line, I wouldn't have 
 spoken a word to you/' she said, with flushed 
 cheeks ; for she felt as if she had received a 
 slap in the face, and that from a most unex- 
 pected quarter. 
 
 " But I haven't " — and he laughed, though 
 he was not in the least amused. " I've got 
 somehow loose from my moorings, and I can't 
 fit myself in anywhere." 
 
 " Let me take you in hand," she rejoined, 
 mollified by this burst of confidence — for 
 nothing flatters a woman half as much. 
 " You are only one in a crowd. We are all 
 adrift. We've all cut ourselves loose, and 
 neither Elsmerites nor Theosophists can tell 
 us where we shall find land." 
 
 " I should rather think not," said Jack, 
 with fierce contempt. " You remind me of 
 poor Henry Byron's verses : 
 
 ' The man at the wheel's an imbecile, 
 And never knows where we are, 
 
 But he pulls us through in a manner pecu 
 
 Very peculiar. ' " 
 
PRAYER-BOOK PARADE 163 
 
 Only he won't pull you through, and that 
 makes all the difference." 
 
 The next moment, Lord Wild grave, looking 
 rather glum, tapped him on the shoulder, and 
 said they were going home. Miss Kingston 
 nodded, and said graciously : *^ We must have 
 another talk." For there are few things more 
 interesting to the nineteenth-century girl than 
 a bachelor of uncertain opinions, and very 
 certain income. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SPECIMEN OF MODERN SOCIETY. 
 
 " Awful nuisance having all these people 
 to-night," grumbled Lord Wild grave as he 
 returned from his afternoon ramble, and found 
 his brother-in-law just knocking at the door 
 
 of No. . " Important meeting at The 
 
 Stork," he went on as he pulled out his latch- 
 key, '* to decide as to whether or not we'll 
 have that man Sharper. Seems an awful 
 shame to let him slip." 
 
 '' Do you think you will be any the worse 
 for it, if you do ? " asked Jack quietly. 
 
 " I shall be out of pocket if we don't. But 
 I don't care for a skin-flint policy," he said, 
 carelessly, as he went into the smoking-room, 
 and threw himself into the most comfortable 
 
A SPECIMEN OF MODERN SOCIETY 165 
 
 chair. " If we want to keep up the pluck of 
 old England we must pay for it, of course." 
 
 " Yes, you'll have to pay in more senses 
 than one," leaning against the mantelpiece, 
 and contemplating his tiny host with any- 
 thing but admiration in his eyes. 
 
 '' Well, and don't you think it's worth it? " 
 
 ** Depends upon how you work it." 
 
 " No one can find fault with us there," a 
 smile of virtuous satisfaction irradiating his 
 face. '' We go in for fair-play simply, and 
 work everything by the Queensberry Eules." 
 
 " And you really think you are keeping up 
 the pluck of old England by getting two men 
 to break each other's heads, with a pack of 
 the greatest blackguards in the country to 
 look on?" 
 
 " Certainly ! " sitting up, and speaking with 
 great decision ; " and I defy you to say that 
 it isn't the manliest sport going ! ^' 
 
 "It's manly, after a fashion, for man has 
 a fancy for descending to a level with the 
 brutes ; but you can't deny that it's brutal. 
 
1 66 ]\/0 COMPROMISE 
 
 and brings out the most degrading traits in 
 human nature." 
 
 " I deny it entirely. Why, a whole crowd 
 of virtues are in it from beginning to end. 
 Self-restraint, one " — counting on his fingers ; 
 '' can any one practise more self-restraint than 
 a fellow in training ? Two — patience : how 
 he must kick against the system all the while 
 he's going on with it ! Endurance, three ; as 
 he knows that he will have to put up with a 
 good deal of punishment before the last round. 
 Four — pluck ; he's got to face a fellow who 
 will go for him as heavily as he can. There ! 
 four virtues, and not a single vice among 
 them ! " triumphantly. 
 
 " Naturally,becauseyouVe carefully left them 
 out. I'll grant you, pluck — for I don't suppose 
 a coward would ever step into the ring — but a 
 fig for his patience and self-restraint," Jack 
 exclaimed contemptuously. "Isn't there a 
 thousand times more of both in the clerk who 
 toils at his desk early and late, and whose gains 
 at the end of a lifetime are an infinitesimal 
 
A SPECIMEN OF MODERN SOCIETY 167 
 
 fraction compared with the sum earned, in one 
 quarter of an hour, by your pet smasher ? " 
 
 " Oh, hang it all ! it isn't a question of tin. 
 And look here, Jack, when you talk of the 
 blackguards who look on, you would find some 
 of the best names in England amongst them.'' 
 
 ^'That wouldn't surprise me in the least," 
 drily. " I don't want to be personal, but you 
 must confess that the Upper Ten don't exactly 
 make a parade of their virtues." 
 
 Lord Wildgrave laughed good-humouredly. 
 *' Oh, we are no worse than we used to be ; 
 only there's never the ghost of a bushel under 
 which to hide our light." 
 
 " Your light, indeed ? A farthing dip would 
 be a brilliant illumination compared with it. 
 And why should you have anything to hide ? " 
 
 " Our modesty. We don't like to walk 
 about in a glare." 
 
 " You wouldn't mind it, if you. v/ere fit to 
 look at." 
 
 " You might turn the whole power of the 
 electric light on Lady B., and I bet you 
 
i68 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 wouldn't find a flaw in her, thougli she's an 
 aristocrat to the tips of her fingers. She would 
 make up for the sins of the whole lot of us." 
 
 " That's the woman who goes to White- 
 chapel, and seeks to stamp out murder by dis- 
 tributing buns and tracts ? " 
 
 '^ Don't sneer ; she's one of the right sort, 
 and when I meet her in the street, I give her 
 my lowest salaam," Lord Wild grave said with 
 unusual earnestness. 
 
 " I never meant to sneer, only I can't help 
 being amused," said Jack with a smile. 
 '' Granted, that Belgravia will struggle hard 
 to improve Whitechapel : nobody doubts it, 
 everybody knows it ; but who is lifting a finger 
 to improve Belgravia ? " 
 
 " My dear fellow, we don't want it. We are 
 civilised within an inch of our lives," opening 
 his lazy eyes a little wider than usual. 
 
 " Civilised, but not Christianised. Most of 
 you are living practically like heathens; but 
 you are all so cursedly self-satisfied that you 
 don't see it/' Jack added, impatiently. 
 
A SPECIMEN OF MODERN SOCIETY 169 
 
 " Good gracious ! Montague, you bad better 
 turn parson, and then I needn't come and hear 
 you unless I want to," exclaimed Lord Wild- 
 grave, elevating his eyebrows, and wishing his 
 brother-in-law at the bottom of the sea, or in 
 any other unget-at-able place ; and yet without 
 energy sufficient to take himself away and out 
 of reach. 
 
 "If the parson were worth anything he 
 would not let you drift further and further 
 away without, at least, throwing you a 
 rope." 
 
 "Much obliged to him, but I shouldn't 
 bother to touch it." 
 
 "No, you would rather drown. You will 
 go to perdition, and you won't mind it, so 
 long as you go to the tune of your pet music- 
 hall ditty, or the woman, who happens to be 
 your fancy for the moment, is looking on with 
 an entrancing smile. But what will be the 
 end of it all ? " he asked— not of the Viscount, 
 who was looking inexpressibly bored, but of 
 his inner self, bewildered as he was by the 
 
I70 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 constant, perplexing problems presented to 
 him by modern society in the concrete. 
 
 " Oh, never mind the end, so long as it^s 
 jolly whilst it lasts ; " and fairly at the ex- 
 tremity of his own patience, he jumped up, 
 threw the end of his cigar into the fireplace, 
 and began to hum an aforesaid music-hall 
 ditty as a protest against further discussion. 
 
 The determined levity of the man angered 
 Montague exceedingly. He could not see that 
 it would probably have been just the same 
 with himself, if the events which had happened 
 in America had not left him like a star, 
 violently shaken out of its orbit by an extra- 
 ordinary convulsion of Nature. He was 
 looking round with the questioning eyes of an 
 outsider, not yet settled down into any groove 
 of his own ; and he forgot to make allowances 
 for another who was only continuing his 
 thoughtless life to its natural sequence. Lord 
 Wildgrave was the necessary outcome of his 
 former self as an Eton boy. He did as little 
 work as he could in a school that never exacts 
 
A SPECIMEN OF MODERN SOCIETY 171 
 
 too much ; the discipline, lax as it was, was a 
 recurrent offence to him ; he shirked morning- 
 chapel on every possible excuse that the fertile 
 imagination of a boy could invent ; and the 
 six questions which were given him to answer 
 on a Sunday, as a modicum of religious instruc- 
 tion, were always filled in by a chum. 
 
 He was as happy as possible, for a boy must 
 be made of some peculiar and disagreeable 
 agglomeration of molecules not to enjoy his 
 life in the paradise of schools ; but the worst 
 of it wafe that he was allowed to go his own 
 way — and that way was the very broad one into 
 which there is no difficulty of entrance. 
 Plucky, as boys of small stature generally are ; 
 willing to give away the last shilling in his 
 pocket — perhaps because he knew it would 
 soon be replaced b}^ a fiver ; excellent at 
 cricket, and a tolerable hand at an oar, with a 
 temper as smooth as a pond, as free from 
 principle or scruple as a baby in a bassinette, 
 and always ready for a lark in any shape — he 
 could not fail to be popular. Popularity is 
 
172 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 not a safe nursery-ground for any but excep- 
 tional natures ; but no one can deny that it 
 is a pleasant one. Wildgrave enjoyed it 
 immensely, and never guessed that it helped 
 him a little faster on his downward course. 
 In fact, he did not know that he was always 
 slipping a little lower as the years went by. 
 Nobody seemed to disapprove of him in his 
 own set. Nobody startled him by giving him 
 the cold shoulder. Even old ladies were dis- 
 armed by the innocence of his expression, and 
 deceived by the charm of his smile. Certainly 
 he disappointed many people when he married 
 Emmeline Montague, for he was always 
 making each girl of his acquaintance imagine 
 that he was going to propose to her next week. 
 But he was so unconscious of having done 
 any wrong, so evidently expecting to be con- 
 gratulated even by the most badly treated of 
 his victims, that none of them dared to treat 
 him in return as a base deserter, especially as 
 such treatment would publish a girl's broken 
 hopes to the world. The pleasures of the 
 
A SPECIMEN OF MODERN SOCIETY 173 
 
 world are often represented as very unsatis- 
 fying, but he found them ample for his needs, 
 and he had not a hope or a wish beyond. He 
 lived in them and for them, occupying his 
 mind by nothing higher than the beauty of a 
 woman, or the merits of a horse, the planning 
 of a prize-fight, or the columns of his betting- 
 book. If a religious census had ever come to 
 pass, he would have subscribed himself a 
 Churchman, not because he had more faith 
 than the rationalist next door, but rather 
 because he had never taken the trouble to 
 doubt. Although we cannot go so far as Pro- 
 fessor Huxley, and consider doubt as " en- 
 throned in that high place among the primary 
 duties which is assigned to it by the scientific 
 conscience of these latter days," yet doubt is 
 worthy of some respect because it implies an 
 interest, and interest of any kind is preferable 
 to that deadly apathy which is the despair of 
 any earnest cleric whose lines are laid amongst 
 the pleasant, but most aggravating, haunts of 
 fashion. 
 
174 -^O COMPROMISE 
 
 "Time to go and dress," Lord Wildgrave 
 remarked, as he pulled out his watch ; and 
 thus, having as it were secured his retreat, he 
 turned upon Jack with a twinkle of amusement 
 in his eyes. " Look here, old fellow," he began 
 according to his usual formula, " you talk like 
 a parson, and how youVe got the cheek beats 
 me, for you don't act like one a bit more than 
 I do. You've done much the same as I have 
 to-day, except that you went to sleep, and I 
 didn't; and I never knew that there was a 
 special piety in snoring." 
 
 " But, good heavens ! you don't think that I 
 set myself up as an example," exclaimed Mon- 
 tague, quite aghast. ''I — I " 
 
 "Well, I thought you had stepped up 
 rather too high, but don't mention it. I'm 
 going to dress ; " and he slipped out of the room, 
 with a sudden keen desire for punctuality. 
 
 When he reached his dressing-room, he 
 laughed softly to himself. " He won't lecture 
 me again in a hurry ; and to-night, I'll intro- 
 duce him to Aurelia Blake." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 "Em sent me round the sweetest little note, 
 asking us to come in to-night. Had you any 
 idea that we were to meet so soon again ? " 
 Miss Kingston inquired, in the hope that 
 Montague would confess that the idea had 
 originated with him. 
 
 "Not the slightest," he said, acting uncon- 
 cernedly the part of a steam-hammer, as he 
 glanced round the drawing-room curiously, 
 and made a brief summary of the guests. 
 " Yours and your brother's faces are the only 
 ones I know amongst this bevy of strangers. 
 What a lot of people there are ! " 
 
 " Yes, Lord Wildgrave likes a crowd." 
 " On the same principle as a pickpocket ? " 
 
176 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " I don't know," with a slight shrug of her 
 pecuHarly white shoulders ; '' I hope you are 
 not qualifying for the role of a private de- 
 tective ? *' 
 
 " Miss Kingston, you are too unkind," ab- 
 surdly irritated by the question. *' If there's 
 a thing I loathe with all my heart, it is the 
 man who stoops to play the part of a society 
 detective." 
 
 "I am so sorry, but I think it was the 
 inquisitorial glance you shot at your brother- 
 in-law ; " and Miss Kingston looked distinctly 
 mischievous as she unfurled the pale blue fan 
 which matched so well with her dress. 
 
 " You forgot, perhaps, that he had a wife. 
 All women are detectives at heart." 
 
 " Then you ought to have been proud to be 
 called one." 
 
 " I don't see why. A womanly man is 
 contemptible." 
 
 " What is more delightful in a novel than 
 a man with the strength of a giant, and the 
 tenderness of a woman ? " 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 177 
 
 " But a novel is bound to be in extremes ; if 
 it described people just as we found them, we 
 should call it atrociously dull." 
 
 '* Thanks. Gro, and talk to some one else." 
 " Why ? We are just going in to dinner." 
 " No, we are waiting for Minerva, and here 
 she is ! " she exclaimed, with a sigh of pre- 
 tended relief, as the door was thrown open, 
 and the butler announced — " Miss Aurelia 
 Blake ! " 
 
 " Minerva ! " ejaculated Jack beneath his 
 breath, as a lady walked into the room with 
 an air of superiority, as if she had just stepped 
 down from Olympus, whilst an ordinary mortal 
 would have felt deeply abashed at keeping 
 seventeen people waiting for their dinner. 
 But no set of circumstances, however trying, 
 had yet been found which could abash Aurelia 
 Blake. If it had been possible for her to wear 
 such frivolous things as curl-papers on her 
 *' Jove-like brow," and she had been discovered 
 in them by the Prince of Wales, or one of the 
 Archbishops, she would have worn them with 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
T78 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 the dignity of a coronet, and without the 
 smallest embarrassment. She was not very 
 handsome, but no one would have had the 
 presumption to call her plain. Her most 
 striking features were her large dark eyes and 
 her broad white forehead, where there was 
 plenty of space for the antero-frontal lobes of 
 the brain. She was not unusually tall, but 
 her personality was so forcible that she seemed 
 to dominate all who came near her. She was 
 dressed handsomely in black and red, but with 
 extreme simplicity; and her jewels were mag- 
 nificent, but far from numerous. 
 
 To Montague's intense dismay, he was pre- 
 sented to Miss Blake at once, and they were 
 sent down to dinner together. Jack hesitated 
 as to whether he should offer his arm, for it 
 seemed too ridiculous to suppose that such a 
 woman could need any support from man, but 
 conventionality was too much for him. 
 
 The table looked very nice, profusely 
 decorated with ox-eye daisies and long fronds 
 of delicate ferns, tied together by yellow 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 179 
 
 ribbons. Em made a charming hostess, and 
 did not allow herself to be entirely engrossed 
 either by the pleasant diplomat on her right, 
 or the inevitable " Dandy " on her left ; whilst 
 Lord Wildgrave, on the other hand, had no 
 conscience. He had taken Madame de Rianos 
 in to dinner for the express purpose of de- 
 voting himself to her, and he did so without 
 stint or scruple. 
 
 Jack looked round the table, and saw a 
 well-known journalist making himself agree- 
 able to the lovely Mrs. Blanks, who looked 
 even more charming than usual under the 
 light of the rose- shaded lamps. Miss King- 
 ston was chatting with Mr. Blanks, that perfect 
 gentleman and most versatile of actors, and 
 seemed as if she had no eyes or ears for any 
 one else. 
 
 ''What is your line?" asked a (Jeep con- 
 tralto voice by his side. 
 
 '' London, Chatham, and Dover," he an- 
 swered directly, wondering if she were going 
 to overpower Derwent's Cray with a visit, and 
 
i8o NO COMPROMISE 
 
 determining on the instant, that nothing 
 should induce him to play the part of host. 
 
 "And you have no other? Poor man; I 
 pity you.'* 
 
 " Please don't waste your pity ; there is 
 another line from Charing Cross." 
 
 " Then you are well provided. I see no use 
 in pursuing the subject." 
 
 '* Are you interested in Derwent's Cray ? 
 Had you any object in asking the question ? " 
 
 "Yes, but you misunderstood it, which 
 proved that you had no line of your own. If 
 you had been even an amateur photographer, 
 you would have mentioned it." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," with a short laugh. 
 " What an ass I am ! Of course you wanted 
 to know if I had a craze of any sort. But I 
 haven't. I don't try to take the trade out of 
 the hands of poor photographers, I doii't 
 preach teetotalism to people as thirsty as I am 
 myself; and 1 don't manufacture grievances 
 for the purpose of howling over them in the 
 best drawing-rooms in London." 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY i8i 
 
 " And jet, you don't look like a man without 
 some particular interest in life," lifting grave 
 eyes to his face, in order to study it as calmly 
 as if it were a plaster cast. 
 
 He felt inclined to say that he was par- 
 ticularly interested in his dinner, but, not 
 wishing to reach perfectly abject depths in 
 her estimation, he contented himself with 
 eating his fish in silence ; and, when he had 
 quite finished it, he looked up as a bright idea 
 struck him. " I can tell you what I'm most 
 interested in afc present. A little school down 
 at home in our village." 
 
 " Do you mean that you take a class ? " 
 with a certain amount of wonder in her tone. 
 
 " Not I. They would floor me in the 
 multiplication table. But we are threatened 
 with a School Board, and our Rector — the 
 best man that ever lived — would rather have 
 a visitation of small-pox. He thinks it would 
 do harm." 
 
 " He is quite right," she answered, with an 
 approving smile ; '' for souls are, after all, of 
 
1 82 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 more consequence than bodies. They last 
 longer, at all events." 
 
 '' Are you sure of that, Miss Blake ? " asked 
 Mr. Blanks from across the table. " My aunt 
 was cremated three months ago, and I have 
 got a little bit of her in my locket," holding 
 up one of a peculiar shape which was attached 
 to his watch chain, at which Miss Kingston 
 gave a pronounced shudder ; " and they tell 
 me it may descend as an heirloom to all the 
 Blanks of the future." 
 
 ** But the end of the world may come before 
 the end of this century." 
 
 "And time enough, too. There isn't an 
 original idea left. The theatres will have to 
 be closed, the booksellers must put up their 
 shutters; vice has reached its culminating 
 point ; fashion has repeated itself so often by 
 going backwards, that now there will be 
 nothing left for it to copy but the costume of 
 Adam and Eve, and then there will be an end 
 of the fig-trees." 
 
 " But Virtue, Mr. Blanks, why have you 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 183 
 
 left her out in the cold?" Miss Blake asked, 
 in an aggrieved tone. 
 
 He laughed. ** Because she's such a 
 stranger. I'm afraid I haven't even a nodding 
 acquaintance ; for I never meet her, except 
 when I come to Grosvenor Place," with a 
 glance towards his hostess. 
 
 "Then I am better off than you," said 
 Aurelia, drawing up her neck, but with a 
 smile in her eyes. "I meet her sometimes 
 hiding in the dirtiest of slums, like a daisy on 
 a rubbish-heap. I come across her constantly 
 in the wards of our large hospitals, and I see 
 her in the pulpit very often, and sometimes on 
 an inverted tub." 
 
 " Then you and she have an affinity. Miss 
 Blake, that is very clear. But I'm afraid if she 
 met me, she would pick up her skirts, and pass me 
 by with something almost as vulgar as a sniff." 
 
 " You are giving yourself a bad character, 
 and that is surely very unnecessary." 
 
 " You mean that others would save me the 
 trouble?^' 
 
1 84 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 ''What do you think, Mr. Montague?" 
 turning to him graciously. "Is it good 
 policy to cry yourself down? " 
 
 " Not at all, if people are going to take you 
 at your own valuation." 
 
 "But you forget that there is a great 
 attraction in humility/' persisted Mr. Blanks, 
 who wished to hang on to the conversation 
 with Miss Blake, because Miss Kingston had 
 developed a sudden interest in her neighbour 
 on the other side, and he was not accustomed 
 to neglect. 
 
 *'I don't see it," retorted Aurelia, looking 
 as far as possible from it at the moment. 
 "You need not climb into the highest seat; 
 but I see no good in laying yourself down 
 like a carpet for other people to tread on." 
 
 " They would find me rather rough walking," 
 put in Jack. 
 
 " I hope so — a carpet of stinging-nettles, or 
 broken glass. After all, humility is meant for 
 one's inner self," she said in a graver tone. 
 "You must face the world bravely, and keep 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 185 
 
 all your qualms and misgivings for your own 
 most private life." 
 
 " I quite agree with you — unless you wish 
 to be looked upon as a wretched creature, with 
 no more backbone than a mollusk." 
 
 " That will never be your fate, Mr. 
 Montague." 
 
 " How can you tell ? " quickly. *' Looking 
 back at my life, I can see that I've been blown 
 backwards and forwards like that blind at the 
 window." 
 
 " And you will stand all the firmer in the 
 future,"' she said with extreme confidence. 
 
 " How can you tell ? " he repeated more 
 emphatically. 
 
 " To know your own weakness is a source of 
 strength," she said very softly; and then added 
 in a lighter tone, " I hope you are not going 
 to employ your whole strength against the 
 cause of education." 
 
 "Why not ? " he answered perversely. " Has 
 not education done harm enough already ? " 
 
 ''Incalculable good." 
 
1 86 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Think of the overtaxed brains, the broken- 
 down health, resulting in a mad-house or a 
 grave." 
 
 " Where do you get your statistics from ? '' 
 abruptly. 
 
 " T despise statistics." 
 
 '^ Which is as much as to say you despise 
 facts, and respect gossip, which is too much 
 even for a man. But seriously, Mr. Montague, 
 is not reading the purest pleasure that man 
 can have ? '' 
 
 " Depends upon the book." 
 
 " But why take such a pessimistic view as 
 to suppose that the book must be bad ? " 
 
 " Is it pessimistic ? Are there not 
 more bad people in the world than good 
 ones ? " 
 
 " I hope not. The bad make more noise in 
 the world. You mention it to the police, and 
 it gets into one paper after another, if some- 
 body picks your pocket; but," with a slow, 
 sweet smile softening her face into real beauty, 
 " if any one with angelic unselfishness spares 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 187 
 
 you a trouble, you bury it in your heart, and 
 nobody hears of it except yourself/' 
 
 "If you really think that there is more 
 virtue than vice, how can you account for our 
 crowded gaols ? " 
 
 "The greater proportion of mankind are 
 outside, and as education advances the pro- 
 portion will increase." 
 
 " You don't really believe that the world is 
 to be saved by a School Board ? " with an 
 ironical smile. 
 
 " Not unless I chose the members of the 
 Board ; but I do believe that vice is bred in 
 the slough of ignorance." 
 
 "And I believe," said Jack stoutly, "that 
 too much knowledge ruins people much faster 
 than too little." 
 
 "Miss Blake is right," put in Mr. Blanks 
 again. " One of my supers hanged himself to 
 a part of the scenery, and left a mis-spelt 
 paper on a bracket, on which he had scrawled, 
 ' I'm agoin' to hange myself, becos I'm tired 
 of loife,' and I always thought that if he had 
 
i88 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 known how to spell, he would have known 
 better than to misuse that rope." 
 
 "Very probably/' remarked Miss Blake, 
 just as Jack muttered under his breath, 
 *' insane idea;" "if the world of books had 
 been opened to him, he would have had some- 
 thing to occupy his mind besides his own 
 wretched self." 
 
 *'Ah, if we could get rid of our wretched 
 selves, even for a week, what a relief it would 
 be," Montague said with such heartiness that 
 Miss Blake looked at him curiously as she 
 replied, "Mr. Blanks gets rid of his 'self so 
 often, that at the end of his career, he will be 
 puzzled as to which was his real self after all." 
 
 ''Quite true," he answered, with an 
 affirmative nod. " Sometimes a ' devil-may- 
 care,' reckless, improvident swell, or a 
 misanthrope whose mouth has never known a 
 laugh, or a stingy beggar who grudges a crust 
 to a starving daughter, or a ' love-them-all- 
 round ' sort of fellow, or a parson with a tract 
 in his pocket, or a burglar with ' yours is 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 189 
 
 mine ' for his motto, or a murderer with the 
 gallows in near perspective. It's a treat to 
 wake from the last sort of nightmare, and 
 find myself at a table like this, with Miss 
 Aurelia Blake opposite to me." 
 
 " When you retire— not on a pension, I'm 
 afraid," she said with a smile. 
 
 '* No, they haven't taken to pensioning off 
 elderly managers ; but neither can they super- 
 annuate us. We have the pull there. But 
 what were you going to say ? " 
 
 " That when you retired, you would have 
 ample experience of every sort of character, 
 and be able to form your own." 
 
 " Bather late in the day," suggested Mon- 
 tague. 
 
 *'Yes, my character was formed when I 
 was ten years old. At least my aunt," 
 touching his locket, " is reported to have said 
 of me, * That boy is a godless young hypocrite, 
 and I shall be very much surprised ' — she 
 wanted to say ' disgusted ' — ' if he doesn't 
 come to a bad end.' " 
 
I90 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Well, the end has not come ? " with a 
 mischievous gleam for the moment in her 
 grave eyes. ''I daresay she thought the 
 stage the high road to perdition." 
 
 '' Ah, but does any one believe in perdition 
 
 " I do," said Jack with decision. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Montague, we all do ; and the 
 greatest ruffians feel it and know it, when 
 the crime is done, and they look on their 
 soiled fingers with a shudder," Aurelia said, 
 with more warmth than usual. *' But to 
 return to our former subject, I am so sorry to 
 find you an opponent of education." 
 
 "To tell you the truth, I never thought 
 much about it till I had a talk the other day 
 with our Eector," as he helped himself to an 
 enticing-looking entree which he was more 
 anxious to discuss than anything else. " He 
 certainly convinced me that a purely 
 secular education was worse than none at 
 all." 
 
 "Oh, indeed ! " sarcastically. "It is a 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 191 
 
 pity that it fell to the task of such a narrow- 
 minded man to form your convictions." 
 
 "If Kindersley is narrow-minded, I'm the 
 shortest man in this room," said Jack wrath- 
 fully, with a glance at his diminutive brother- 
 in-law. 
 
 " I call it narrow-minded to turn up a 
 clerical nose at the glorious gift of knowledge, 
 unless it is fettered by a creed." 
 
 " I don't see that. A horse is a glorious 
 animal, but he is more useful with a bridle on, 
 than when careering round the paddock." 
 
 " I've no rooted objection to the bridle, but 
 as the people have spoken in favour of secular 
 education " 
 
 " Excuse me. Do you think they have ? " 
 
 " Was it not carried by a large majority in 
 Parliament ? " 
 
 " What did that majority consist of ? 
 Every Dissenter, Freethinker, Rationalist, and 
 Atheist, joined the Radicals, who were forcing 
 their leader on to ground where I'm certain 
 he never meant to stand. Are those the sort 
 
192 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 of men to whom any mother would care to 
 trust the education of her children ? " 
 
 " But Atheists, Freethinkers, &c., would 
 be in a minority on any board.'' 
 
 " I don't see why. What is to keep a man 
 out, if his purse is wide, and he employs 
 most of the labour in the village ? You must 
 remember that the average man, in the class to 
 which most of the voters belong, has an awfully 
 narrow range of thought, and the individual 
 who provides him with a dinner is his idea of 
 a special providence, though he be the worst 
 man out/' 
 
 " Yes, but he may be an angel," rather 
 impatiently. "Why vnll you look on the 
 black side ? " 
 
 " Because I've seen so much of it," with 
 great gravity. 
 
 " Wait till I get on to the London School 
 Board. I am really going to try," watching 
 him closely, to see if the idea were as repug- 
 nant to him as to most of her friends and 
 acquaintances. But to Montague it was the 
 
A SUNDAY DINNER-PARTY 193 
 
 very thing he would have expected of her, so 
 he answered with a slight bow, as he mentally 
 reflected that a good-looking woman had no 
 chance of rejection. " If j^ou try, you are 
 certain to succeed." 
 
 There was a sudden pause, and as the 
 general hum of conversation ceased, Emme- 
 line, and a few others here and there, became 
 conscious of a noise outside. 
 
 She sent Ely the butler to see what was 
 the matter, but her husband was too much 
 engrossed to notice that anything unusual 
 was occurring. The noise increased, and grew 
 into a hubbub ; there was a confused sound of 
 many voices, a trampling of feet and of horses' 
 hoofs, and above all rose a woman's shrill cry 
 of fear, breaking with the sharpness of a knife 
 across the light-hearted frivolity; the low 
 laugh, the empty jest, the conventional give- 
 and-take, of society's dinner-table. 
 
 The guests looked from one to another. 
 Em half rose from her seat. " Won't some- 
 body go and see ? " she asked breathlessly, as 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
194 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 her chest rose and fell, and the diamonds 
 glittered on her breast. Dandy stood up; 
 Jack pushed back his chair. He knew his 
 sister's kind heart, and that she would have 
 no peace till she could be certain that no one 
 was in want of help; and then he looked at 
 Wildgrave, who was so besotted in his folly 
 that the whole of London might have come 
 to grief without disturbing him, so long as 
 two chairs were left for himself and one other, 
 and she continued to look as kindly at him as 
 now under her long southern lashes. With 
 an impatient frown, he turned from the 
 master of the house, and looked back at his 
 sister. 
 
 " Go,", she said earnestly ; and, with only a 
 slight apology to Miss Blake, he went, whilst 
 Dandy stayed behind. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT." 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir," said Ely, as he met Mon- 
 tague in the hall, *'it's nothing but a cab 
 accident. Me and the footmen are quite 
 equal to the occasion." 
 
 " Anybody hurt ? " 
 
 " A lady's in a faint, but the police are 
 looking after her." 
 
 ' " And you left her on the pavement ! " 
 exclaimed Jack in disgust. 
 
 He hurried down the steps, whilst the 
 butler made his way back to the dining-room 
 aghast — not at the accident which he con- 
 sidered as almost beneath his notice, but at 
 the scandalous conduct of a gentleman in 
 deserting a dinner-table. 
 
196 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 It was diflBcult to distinguish anything at 
 first, for the starlight seemed dim after the 
 glare of gas in the hall. There was a crowd 
 of uncertain dimensions ; a cab in an un- 
 comfortable attitude, as if it were disposed to 
 recline upon the kerb ; a horse, stung into 
 more than his abnormal life by fright and 
 bewilderment, and ungratefully kicking out 
 right and left at the people who had been 
 helping him to regain his legs \ a cabman 
 giving vent to a volley of oaths as he tried 
 with unsteady hands to mend the broken 
 trace; a woman with a yelling baby in her 
 arms giving gratuitous advice, and getting in 
 every one^s way ; and there, in the very centre 
 of the hubbub, with coarse tobacco puffed into 
 her shrinking face, and coarser language 
 dinned into her small ears, stood Diana 
 Witherington, unconscious of everything and 
 everybody but her mother, who was clinging 
 to her arm in a desperate effort to save herself 
 from slipping down on to the pavement. 
 
 Di was just looking up, with an earnest 
 
''ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT'' 197 
 
 appeal in her eyes, in search of a policeman, or 
 anybody, who would help to get her mother 
 into some safe place, when she caught sight of 
 Jack Montague. 
 
 Their eyes met, a little cry of intense 
 relief broke from her lips, and in another 
 moment Mrs. Witherington was fairly lifted 
 out of the crowd. 
 
 " Keep close," said Jack, wishing most 
 heartily that he had two pairs of arms at the 
 time. " Come in — this is my sister's house, 
 you know." 
 
 Di followed down the hall, past the dining- 
 room, from which there came a buzz of many 
 voices, into the quiet of the library. Jack 
 deposited Mrs. Witherington on the sofa, 
 turned up the lamp, and then went out to tell 
 the butler to settle with the cabman, and to 
 send in some wine. He came back to find 
 that Mrs. Witherington was already reviving, 
 and the wine was just in time to save her from 
 what would have been a most inopportune fit 
 of hysterics. He watched Di as she bent over 
 
198 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 her mother with the utmost love and tender- 
 ness, soothing her shaken nerves, and warding 
 off a burst of tears with a little word of comfort, 
 or a small attempt at a joke. He had seen 
 her self-reliant, unselfish, with a certain un- 
 tamed independence about her, which in any 
 other girl might have degenerated into bold- 
 ness instead of pluck ; but this was a side of 
 her character which she had carefully con- 
 cealed from him, and yet which appealed to 
 him perhaps more than any other. He was 
 of too strong a nature not to feel for weak- 
 ness, or not to appreciate the womanliest side 
 of woman. With one arm leaning on the 
 mantlepiece, and busy with his many thoughts, 
 he waited patiently for Mrs. Witherington to 
 " come round,'' as nurses say. He contrasted 
 Di with the woman he had left so uncivilly in 
 the dining-room, and, under the influence of 
 the moment, was shockingly unjust to Aurelia 
 Blake. Forgetting that Aurelia had not had 
 the smallest chance for the display of any 
 tenderness, during their half-hour's conversa- 
 
''ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT'' 199 
 
 tion at the dinner-table, he credited her with 
 an utter want of it. She could never have 
 bent over a mother as Di was doing now, with 
 loving words and softest kisses, and small 
 caressing hands. She would probably have 
 told her not to make a fool of herself, and not 
 to waste her tears when there was nothing to 
 cry about ; and then, if she fainted under this 
 rough treatment, he could fancy her holding a 
 salts-bottle to the patient's nose, and waiting 
 barbarously for her to cough or sneeze herself 
 back to consciousness. The mere thought of 
 a salts-bottle reminded him of his own short- 
 comings. He had offered them nothing but a 
 glass of wine — no salts, no eau-de-cologne. 
 
 "Can't I get you anything?" he said, 
 eagerly. " My sister has a few friends. She 
 hasn't an idea that you are here ; but she will 
 never forgive me if I don't get you all you 
 ought to have." 
 
 *' Thanks, we want nothing — only to go 
 home," Di said quietly. '' Mother dear, are 
 you ready now ? " 
 
200 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "This is the last time I shall ever do it/' 
 Mrs. Witherington murmured, plaintively. 
 " It is too lonsr a way, and the crowd and the 
 music, it is all too much for me." 
 
 " Where have you been ? '' Jack asked, 
 rather puzzled, as he remembered that the 
 theatres were closed. 
 
 Di looked up with a sudden light in her 
 eyes : 
 
 '* St. Paul's Cathedral, and, oh ! the music 
 seemed as if it were coming straight from 
 heaven, and Canon preached so beauti- 
 fully. I could have listened for ever and 
 ever." 
 
 " He must have gone on for ever and ever," 
 looking at his watch. " You are very late." 
 
 " We took a long time getting out, for 
 mother hates a crowd ; and then all the cabs 
 were gone.' 
 
 " Where was your carriage ? " 
 
 " In the stables, and our coachman in 
 church." 
 
 "Where was Phil?" 
 
''ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT'' 201 
 
 " At Derwent's Cray. He hates London, 
 and father had a headache." 
 
 " You ought not to be going about with no 
 one to take care of you." 
 
 Di gave a little laugh. " That sort of idea 
 is exploded. I can take care of mother, and 
 of myself as well.'' 
 
 " And yet I find you in the middle of a 
 crowd — your cab upset — your mother almost 
 on the pavement ! " 
 
 " Yes, at a friend's door. Could anything 
 have been managed better ? Mother, are you 
 ready ? " 
 
 " I will send for a cab ! " stretching out his 
 hand to ring the bell. 
 
 "Never again, thank you," from Mrs. 
 Witherington, with the decision inspired by 
 some phases of terror, accompanied by a 
 shudder. 
 
 '* But you won't walk ! " really aghast at 
 the idea. 
 
 " I shall drag myself there somehow." 
 
 "Take my arm, and let us be off!" said 
 
202 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 Di, in a great hurry, as soon as she had tied 
 her mother's bonnet-strings, gently smoothed 
 her hair, and arranged her veil. 
 
 " Or rather mine -, of course, I'm coming 
 with you." 
 
 '' Of course you are not. Mother, say you 
 don't want him,'' she said urgently, as Jack 
 went out of the room to fetch his overcoat 
 and hat. 
 
 " But if there's a crowd ? " timorously. 
 
 " There won't be," with the groundless con- 
 fidence that makes a wish father to a thought ; 
 ''and it's only such a wee bit of a way." 
 
 *' Now, are you really quite ready ? " asked 
 Jack, as he reappeared with a light coat thrown 
 over his dress things, and his hat in his hand. 
 
 " Shut that door, you idiot ! " over his 
 shoulder to a footman in an exasperated tone, 
 as the latter came out of the clining-room leav- 
 ing the door wide open. 
 
 He knew that a dinner-party on Sunday 
 would shock Mrs. Witherington inexpressibly, 
 for it was only the strenuous opposition of the 
 
''ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT'' 203 
 
 Colonel that had saved her children from hating 
 the day, as one only to be given up to Puri- 
 tanic solemnities. They were very near the 
 last pair of Turkish curtains which veiled the 
 long hall at intervals ; in another minute they 
 would have fallen to behind them, and hidden 
 all signs of dissipation from Mrs. Wither- 
 ington's disapproving eyes ; but as spiteful 
 fortune would have it, just as Jack thought he 
 had managed it so cleverly, the dining-room 
 door was thrown wide open once again, and as 
 he looked up, to curse the crass stupidity of a 
 footman, he heard Dandy's mellifluous tones, 
 and saw his tall figure standing on the thres- 
 hold. "Lady Wildgrave hopes" — he began 
 politely ; but what the Viscountess hoped was 
 left to conjecture, for Jack, in a ferocious 
 hurry, bustled the two ladies past the curtains 
 which he held up, and let down again, just 
 in time to intercept the admiring glance which 
 Lord Eaymond was bestowing on Di's beauty, 
 but not before a full view of the long festive 
 table, with its glittering glass, profusion of 
 
204 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 flowers, and smartly dressed guests, had been 
 afforded to mother and daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Witherington turned away her head 
 as if she had seen a shocking spectacle. Di said 
 nothing, but as soon as she got outside, she 
 raised her face to the starlit skies with a sigh 
 of relief — a gesture which Montague inter- 
 preted to his own disfavour. Of course she 
 was drawing a contrast between the solemn 
 silence of the night, and the noisy sounds of 
 dissipation within the walls of No. 200. The 
 Witheringtons were silent, perhaps because 
 they had nothing to say, an excellent reason 
 which is not always considered valid b}^ their 
 own sex, and which, therefore, did not present 
 itself to Jack's mind. When they reached their 
 house, which was only just round the corner in 
 Halkin Street, he took off his hat with the air 
 of a Xapoleon, and hoped they would be none 
 the worse for their adventure. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, Mr. Montague," 
 Mrs. Witherington said coldly, as if the obli- 
 gation weighed lightly on her mind ; " but I 
 
"ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT'' 205 
 
 am very sorry we interfered with your Sunday 
 evening," a vicious emphasis on the last word 
 but one. 
 
 " Thank you ever so much," said Di, holding 
 out her hand, with all the more sweetness 
 because of her mother's acidity. " It was lucky 
 for us that our horse chose to fall down at 
 Lady Wildgrave's door/' 
 
 " We should not have found a party in every 
 house," severely from the doorstep. 
 
 " Nor a friend either," in a gentle undertone 
 from the girl, as she cast one long wistful glance 
 up into his grave face, and then turned away. 
 The door closed, and left him outside alone. 
 
 A friend ! What a burst of sunshine seemed 
 to break on his life as the possibility of such a 
 possession opened before him ! What a keen 
 interest it would give to the future, if he could 
 persuade himself into the belief that he could 
 be of real assistance to Di Withe rington, in 
 some of the unselfish projects which filled her 
 mind ! He could stand between her innocence 
 and that crafty capitalist, and guard lier from 
 
2o6 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 being entangled in any of his self-interested 
 schemes. He could help her in a thousand 
 ways in the village ; if there came a fight about 
 the School Board, they were certain to be on 
 the same side ; if she wanted a champion for 
 the wrongs of Mr. Strangways' factory people, 
 there was he. Jack Montague, always ready to 
 fight for the weak against the strong. He had 
 worked himself up into quite a state of enthu- 
 siasm by the time he regained his seat by Miss 
 Blake's side ; and the much injured Aurelia 
 noticed at once the change in his expression. 
 
 " So shocked at having to desert you," he 
 said with his politest bow. 
 
 " The shock seems to have had a reviving 
 effect," she began. 
 
 " Jack, you never told me it was the Wither- 
 ingtons," and Em leant forward with great 
 interest. 
 
 " No, he wanted to keep them to himself," 
 from Dandy, in an audible aside. 
 
 *' There was no occasion to disturb you. 
 Nobody was hurt," with gravity of such weight 
 
''ONLY A CAB ACCIDENT'' 207 
 
 as to crush the most audacious attempt at 
 a joke. 
 
 "Blanks, you would never have remained 
 this side of the door, if you had known what 
 was on the other," from Penrose, in a peculiarly 
 distinct undertone. 
 
 *' Old friends of my mother's,'^ said Jack, 
 shortly, not wishing to discuss them in his 
 present company. 
 
 " Old friends that possess perhaps a new 
 interest for you, Mr. Montague," suggested 
 Aurelia. 
 
 " Why should you say that ? " very quietly, 
 and paying no attention to the chaff which was 
 going on, on the other side of the table. 
 
 *' Because for their sakes you actually forgot 
 your dinner," and she looked up at him with 
 laughter in her eyes. 
 
 In spite of Montague's desertion. Miss 
 Blake's interest was thoroughly aroused, and 
 she resolved not to let him slip out of her life 
 as soon as the evening was over. She de- 
 lighted in coming across new specimens of" 
 
2o8 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 mankind, and studying them at her leisure, as 
 Darwin loved to gather together a collection of 
 odd insects and queer animals, to the bewilder- 
 ment of his school-fellows. Miss Blake's 
 friends objected more strongly than the Wyke- 
 hamites, but their objections had still less effect, 
 for Aurelia was as independent as any new 
 Eepublic which starts with a brand-new red 
 flag, a watchword — and nothing else ! 
 
 Before stepping into her neat brougham, she 
 graciously invited him to come to her ''Thurs- 
 days," and Montague, not having yet got into 
 the correct way of saying he was engaged, and 
 regretting that he had not a single free day, 
 said he would be " too proud," and possibly 
 meant what he said. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES. 
 
 Lady Wildgrave went to see the Wither- 
 ingtons the next morning, and not having the 
 smallest idea that her name had been entered 
 in the elder lady's blackest of books, was 
 much surprised at her reception. In all her 
 young life of twenty years, she had never been 
 snubbed before ; and she sat on the sofa, look- 
 ing pretty and charming in her tasteful summer 
 gown, but so bewildered by her hostess's freez- 
 ing manner, that she jumped to the erroneous 
 conclusion that the accident of the night before 
 had been too much for her brain. She married 
 so soon after their arrival at The Wilderness 
 that she did not know them very well, but 
 now that she saw Di in the first freshness of 
 VOL. I. o 
 
2IO NO COMPROMISE 
 
 her girlhood, she fell in love with her on the 
 spot; and, in spite of the cold water with 
 which Mrs. Witherington sprinkled on all her 
 projects, she succeeded in engaging her for an 
 expedition on the river, which Dandy had first 
 hatched in his useful brain ; and then, delighted 
 with a new fancy which excited her imagina- 
 tion, she smiled sweetly in answer to Mrs. 
 Witherington's most frosty remarks, and trip- 
 ped homewards with an air of supreme satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Jack was hipped — all the fun had been 
 melted out of him by the hot suns, or blown 
 out of him by the fierce winds, he had encoun- 
 tered on his travels. She had been puzzling 
 her brains over his case ; she had consulted 
 her husband, and held him by his button-hole 
 for at least ^^^ minutes, in order to discuss the 
 subject in all its bearings. Wildgrave had 
 only laughed, and recommended — Aurelia 
 Blake — " a man in petticoats ! " as she had 
 indignantly exclaimed — '' who would be likely 
 to change the only feminine thing about her 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 21 r 
 
 for the divided skirt, if she met with a mountain 
 on her honeymoon." 
 
 Dandy's advice had been sought; but he 
 only pulled his moustaches, looked very wise, 
 and suggested a party on the river — ^' a family 
 party, you know — with no fuss, and no out- 
 siders/' 
 
 " But Wildgrave would never stand that ; 
 and we should all scratch each other's eyes out 
 before we landed." 
 
 "No, we wouldn't; Madame de Eianos' 
 eyes would not look half so well without their 
 lashes ; and you like to be admired, so you 
 would leave mine alone. And your brother 
 would be altogether too — what shall I say ? — 
 to attack Miss Kingston." 
 
 " But that Spanish woman and Ida Kingston 
 don't belong, thank goodness, to our family 
 party." 
 
 " No ; but they are necessary to act as a 
 check on our tempers. I generously gave 
 Miss Kingston to your brother, because I did 
 not want her myself." 
 
212 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "You shall have her, and not Jack." 
 
 " But mayn't I take charge of you ? " rais- 
 ing his eyebrows, as she lowered his hopes. 
 
 " No ; I want a change," her eyes twinkling 
 mischievously. 
 
 ", And I've got an engagement." 
 
 " Impossible — we haven't fixed the day. 
 Don't you put ballast in a ship to preserve the 
 equilibrium ? " 
 
 " I believe so," languidly. 
 
 " Well, I am going to take M. de E-ianos as 
 ballast for the sake of ours." 
 
 " That paltry little foreigner up to anything 
 as important as five syllables ? " he asked con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " Don't you think the paltriness of people, 
 as well as things, depends upon the uses you 
 put them to ? " 
 
 He looked down upon the tiny hand which 
 she had just stretched out to replace a rose in 
 a Venetian vase, on the table by her side, and 
 his eye was caught by the wedding-ring which 
 bound her by a fetter as strong as iron to his 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 213 
 
 cousin. It was the most perfect illustration 
 of the remark which had just come from her 
 lips ; and, as it happened to be one of his 
 favourite delusions that the ring in question 
 had ruined the happiness of his own life, if not 
 of hers, an unusual flavour of bitterness crept 
 into the tone of his answer. 
 
 " Yes, a tiny bit of gold may do the work of 
 the devil," he said meditatively; ''but what 
 work have you ready for Eianos ? " 
 
 '* Something quite the reverse," with a 
 knowing smile. 
 
 '^ Are you sure of that ? He would feel 
 quite out of it with an Angel." 
 
 " We shall see. The next thing will be to 
 fix a day." 
 
 " But we are all engaged, neck deep, for every 
 day of the week." 
 
 " I know, but we must break loose. Don't 
 you know what it is to feel as if, both bodily 
 and mentally, you had been cramped and tied 
 up till you could bear it no longer? " 
 
 He nodded, as if he cordially agreed, though 
 
214 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 most people would have said he had not 
 suffered much in that way. 
 
 " That is what I feel now," her cheeks 
 flushing, her eyes lighting up. " And if I ever 
 do anything desperate, don't be surprised." 
 
 He looked at her with warm compassion in 
 his usually sleepy eyes, but with a careful 
 restraint in his manner. 
 
 '* My dear child," he said gravely, " you and 
 I are sworn butterflies, and butterflies, you 
 know, make short tracks of it, if there's any- 
 thing so desperate as a shower. We are 
 neither of us made for tragedies." 
 
 *' Oh, you've no more heart than an oyster ! " 
 she exclaimed impatiently. "" I believe if you 
 saw me frizzling in the midst of a fire, you 
 would let me become a cinder rather than singe 
 your fingers." 
 
 *' No, I should turn the hose on you, and, 
 when you were quite safe to touch, I should 
 pick you up and carry you off," slandering him- 
 self, as there was no one to do it for him. 
 
 *' But you would wait to take off your coat ; 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 215 
 
 you know you would " — wanting a contradic- 
 tion. 
 
 He cast a glance at the irreproachable gar- 
 ment in question, and admitted, in a provoking 
 way, that it would be wicked waste to keep it 
 on ; and then, with a sudden change from 
 nonsense to sense, he asked if she wanted him 
 to see about anything, and, after receiving a 
 few commissions, took himself off. 
 
 There was a vast amount of expression in his 
 face, as he pursued his way to his club, for his 
 brain was working at a puzzling problem. 
 He could see more clearly than any other man 
 that there were breakers ahead for the Wild- 
 graves' matrimonial boat ; and he loathed the 
 thought of a crisis from the bottom of his 
 soul. He was willing to do all in his power 
 to keep it off, but he had not the smallest idea 
 how to manage it. He was conscious that he 
 might precipitate it by always standing at 
 Emmeline's elbow, for the world had an ex- 
 tensive vocabulary of unpleasant things to say 
 which it might imagine to be suited to the 
 
2i6 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 occasion. It would be utterly wrong — wrong 
 as it was possible to be. He frowned so hard 
 as he insisted on it mentally, that a baby in a 
 perambulator whom he had unconsciously fixed 
 with his eye, set up a terrified howl, and the 
 nurse looked the anathemas which propriety 
 kept her from uttering. Wildgrave deserved to 
 be shaken, but he felt that it would be awkward 
 to undertake the job, very unkind to the poor 
 little girl whose wrongs he wished to champion 
 — as it would make it impossible for him to 
 retain his present position in the house ; and, 
 moreover, perfectly useless with regard to the 
 man, himself. Having come to the conclusion 
 that affairs must be left to right themselves, 
 as interference would only stir up a heap of 
 mischief, he felt more comfortable, for it was 
 fatally easy to him to drift, without a thought 
 as to whither the current was taking him. 
 Then a friend came up to him, linked his arm 
 through Dandy's, and poured out some ex- 
 quisite story which had been told at the club 
 the night before. In an instant, Em and her 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 217 
 
 troubles were forgotten, as he chuckled over 
 the joke which his friend's excited tones were 
 imparting to all the passers-by, for he could 
 always close the door on an unpleasantness, 
 and smile with cheerfulness on the other side. 
 This is a great gift, which ought to be culti- 
 vated by all those who wish to be regarded 
 rather as a glass of champagne, than a dose of 
 physic, by their associates. So many seem to 
 forget that, as a rule, with no exception, 
 people want to be cheered and not depressed ; 
 and that whilst you are detailing your own 
 grievances and making them as deplorable as 
 you can, the individual to w^hom you are 
 talking may be keeping back worse troubles 
 of his own, in order to give warm sympathy 
 to yours. 
 
 Di Witherington looked forward to the 
 water party, with delighted anticipations of 
 enjoyment. Not being preoccupied with the 
 desire of conquest, or any purpose of flirtation, 
 she longed for Phil to be one of the company ; 
 
2i8 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 but as he had received no invitation, she made 
 up her mind to be content without him. The 
 Wildgraves moved in quite a different set from 
 that of the Witheringtons, which gave an 
 element of uncertainty to the party, and 
 perhaps added to its charms. It rather terri- 
 fied her to think that she was to be hiunched 
 into their midst without any support from 
 her family, but she buried these qualms in the 
 depths of her heart, and looked as cheerful as 
 a sunbeam in the countrj^ undimmed by 
 London smoke, as she came downstairs in a 
 pale blue cambric, with a dainty sailor-hat, 
 encircled by a ribbon of the same hue, perched 
 on her radiant hair. Ever since Lady Wild- 
 grave's visit, Mrs. Witherington had been 
 wondering at her own weakness in accepting 
 the invitation, and several times she had 
 proposed to recall it, but the Colonel " put his 
 foot down," and refused to let his little girl be 
 disappointed on any plea whatever. 
 
 " Good-bye, my dear. Pray be careful as to 
 what you say or do, and keep close to Lady 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 219 
 
 Wildgrave," she said, with her usual supply 
 of tears in her eyes, as Di stooped to kiss 
 her. 
 
 The girl laughed. "Perhaps Lady Wild- 
 grave won't want me. And don't imagine 
 that I'm drowned if I get home rather late." 
 
 " But you must not be late. Percy," ap- 
 pealing to her husband, "tell her that she 
 must be back before seven." 
 
 The Colonel shook his head. "She must 
 come when they choose to bring her. The 
 child can't start off alone, and say, ' My 
 mother wants me.' But she'll be all right. 
 Lady Wildgrave has promised to take care of 
 her. And if I didn't trust her " 
 
 " I don't. I never can again." 
 
 '* And there's Montague." 
 
 " Worse still. After last Sunday " 
 
 "But I thought he came to your assist- 
 
 ance ? 
 
 " Ah, but the whole look of the house ! " 
 " Splendid, isn't it ? I believe Wildgrave 
 gave carte blanche '* 
 
220 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " As if I were talking of the furniture ! " in 
 a tone of decided exasperation. 
 
 " Well, come along, Di, or we shall be late," 
 the Colonel said good-humouredly, but with 
 a worried look on his face ; and Di, anxious to 
 be off, ran down the stairs, and jumped into 
 the hansom which was waiting at the door. 
 
 Thej reached Paddington long before the 
 rest of the party, who came up in detachments. 
 When they took their seats Lord Wildgrave 
 was still missing, but at the last moment he 
 came flying across the platform, and leapt into 
 a third-class carriage at the very end of the 
 train, which was already in motion. There he 
 was kept a prisoner for some time, chafing at 
 the thought that Madame de Rianos was but 
 a few yards from him, and that it was only 
 his chronic unpunctuality which prevented 
 him from being at her side. 
 
 " Young man, just giv' a haul to that 
 winder, if yer don't want to see all my grinders 
 a-blowed down my throat.'' 
 
 The request was uttered by a florid-faced 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 221 
 
 female, whom he discovered to be sitting 
 opposite to him, and the manner was as im- 
 perative as that of the king who cried — 
 "Heads off!" 
 
 Wildgrave complied with the utmost meek- 
 ness, not daring to expostulate, and then 
 sidled unobtrusively to the furthest corner of 
 the carriage. 
 
 The woman looked after him with an evi- 
 dent feeling of regret. " You needn't have 
 took yourself off as if you had the small-pox, 
 and I'd given you the tip to keep your dis- 
 tance. I'm sociable, I am, and I likes to talk. 
 Would you give me your rale opinion on the 
 weather ? " 
 
 Wildgrave cast a glance at scorching sun 
 and azure sky. " Hot," he said, " beastly 
 hot." 
 
 " Ah, but it's the rain I'm thinkin' on. 
 Cos you see as 'ow," in a confidential wheeze, 
 " I'm going to my sister Emily's young man's 
 aunt's funeral, and that hain't a relation, is it ? 
 He's none of mine, and she's none of mine, and 
 
222 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 if I pays her the respect of going to her 'ter- 
 ment, no one can bring it up agen me, if I 
 spares my best gown. What should you do 
 yourself, now ? " 
 
 " I think I should go the whole hog whilst 
 I was about it," throwing himself into the 
 spirit of the situation, and appreciating the 
 humour of it. " I wouldn't spoil it all by 
 being scrimpy/^ 
 
 '' Oh, that's not me. There's none of the 
 skinflint in my natur'," with a shake of her 
 black bonnet, and pursing up a pair of volu- 
 minous lips. "But paramatta is paramatta, 
 and three-and-six a yard I gave for it, if that's 
 the last word I was ever to speak ; and it do 
 seem a sin to get it mudded round the bottom 
 for a body what isn't a relation, don't it now ? '' 
 
 " It do," said the Viscount with emphasis, 
 and with the refinement of politeness, adopting 
 the grammar of the person who addressed him. 
 
 The woman, encouraged by his sympathy, 
 to his dismay edged a little nearer. " Maybe 
 you'd like to hev' a look at it," beginning to 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 223 
 
 untie an uncouth bundle which rested on her 
 ample knees, and was evidently too valuable to 
 be trusted on the seat. 
 
 *' No, no, not for the world ! " he exclaimed 
 hastily, " it might get crumpled, you know ; 
 and black stuff's all the same to me." 
 
 " Then that's your hignorance ; excuse my 
 plain-speaking, for one black stuff's no more 
 like another, than a glass of cold water is like 
 a comforting three-pennyworth of gin. This 
 is no ordinar' gown," she went on as proudly 
 as if it were an heirloom, whilst her fingers — 
 large enough in themselves and cased in huge 
 black gloves — fidgeted with the knot which 
 bound the bundle together. 
 
 " My name was Grwatkin afore I took Stimp- 
 son's, and it has buried three Gwatkins and 
 five Stimpson's, and here's the blessed gown 
 a-waitin' for any more of the family that slips 
 the hooks. It would never ha' done to have 
 wasted it on a Martin, would it now ? " 
 
 " Never," with decision. 
 
 " I'm that dry," she remarked presently, 
 
224 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 though she was mopping her face, as if she 
 were quite the reverse, " that my tongue's as 
 rough as a cinder ;" and then, with a smile 
 which she meant to be insinuating, she came 
 yet a little nearer, " You haven't a drop of 
 anything in your pocket?" Wildgrave said 
 he couldn't oblige her; and, as he thought of 
 the silver-mounted flask which he was in the 
 habit of taking out hunting coming in contact 
 with those fearful lips, he was rather glad that 
 it was left in safety at home ; and then to his 
 immense relief the train slowed, and before it 
 stopped he was out of it, and, as a penalty for 
 over-haste, flat on his face on the platform of 
 Slough Station. He heard a scream, a wheezy 
 voice exclaim : " Lawk-a-mussy ! I'm coming, 
 I'm coming ! " picked himself up, and ran, as 
 if for his life, to the shelter of a first-class 
 carriage, in which most of his friends were 
 gathered. They had all concluded that he was 
 left behind, so they received him with accla- 
 mations, and the Spanish beauty gave him a 
 smile which repaid him for everything. He 
 
AMONGST THE BUTTERFLIES 225 
 
 convulsed them by an exaggerated account of 
 his fellow-traveller, and when the train moved 
 off, and he knew that he was safe from her 
 clutches, he popped out his head to see what 
 had become of her. There she was, pouring 
 her perplexities into the ear of a puzzled porter, 
 who, with a broad grin on his good-humoured 
 face, was evidently giving the best of his atten- 
 tion to the question as to which gown it would 
 be better to wear, at " her sister Emily's young 
 man's aunt's funeral '? " 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 A WATER-PARTY 
 
 The cheerful luncheon at " Skindle's " was 
 over, and the whole party gathered on the 
 bank to select the particular craft in which to 
 reach the tea, which would be waiting for them 
 under the trees at Clieveden. 
 
 Montague, remembering that the Colonel 
 had begged him to look after " his little girl," 
 went up to Miss Witherington before any one 
 else had time to put thought into action, and 
 invited her to allow him to paddle her up the 
 river in a canoe. 
 
 She accepted at once, and he was grateful 
 that she put forward no unsophisticated 
 scruples, nor even gave one glance towards 
 Lady Wildgrave, to see if the proposal met 
 
A WATER-PARTY 227 
 
 with her approbation. Jack put off, whilst 
 Dandy was still beseeching her to change her 
 mind, and take pity on him, and Wildgrave 
 was endeavouring to overcome the fears of 
 Madame de Rianos. The latter soon found out 
 that nothing would tempt her to go in any- 
 thing but what he contemptuously called " a 
 tub," and Emmeline suspected that the husband 
 shared his wife's feelings. 
 
 The Spaniard had a cadaverous face, lighted 
 up by a pair of luminous eyes, and half 
 covered by a coal-black beard and moustache* 
 So far, his description would tally with that of 
 most of his countrymen ; but he was not a 
 common-place entity, apt to run in a groove, 
 with no idiosyncrasies of his own. Though 
 outwardly of the same pattern as hundreds of 
 the embryo diplomats who haunt foreign 
 embassies or legations, there was a stamp of 
 originality on his character ; and now, though 
 his heart was on fire with rampant jealousy, 
 and he could feel it in him to take Wildgrave 
 by the throat, and shake the nonsense out of 
 
228 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 him, he had the self-restraint to avoid making 
 a scene by professing a cowardice, which he 
 would have died rather than confess if it had 
 been real. 
 
 Shrugging his shoulders above his ears, and 
 gesticulating energetically with his carefully 
 gloved hands, he declared it was all very well 
 for Englishmen, who were born sailors, to risk 
 their lives in elongated walnut-shells ; but he 
 agreed with his Annalena, and preferred to 
 have something more substantial between him- 
 self and the water. 
 
 '' That boat there will do our affair — nest ce 
 'paSy Madame ? " he said eagerly, as he pointed 
 to one with smart red cushions, and space 
 sufficient for four people in the stern. 
 
 "Might as well have a Noah's Ark," 
 growled Wildgrave, whilst his wife shot a 
 significant glance at Dandy, feeling sure that 
 he would understand and appreciate the situa- 
 tion, and assented with the sweetest grace 
 possible. 
 
 As she took her place next the elegantly 
 
A WATER-PARTY 229 
 
 dressed Madame de Eianos, who was the only 
 lady present got up without a suspicion of 
 a nautical style, she felt that she had scored 
 all round. 
 
 The Viscount, in spite of his natural auda- 
 city, could scarcely have the bad taste to flirt 
 with any woman — literally, not figuratively — 
 under his wife's nose ; and if he tried, Madame 
 would certainly not respond in the presence of 
 her combustible husband. 
 
 " Have you any nerves. Miss Kingston ? '' 
 Dandy demanded, as he cast an appreciative 
 glance on an outrigger, which looked as if it 
 might capsize if a fair-sized bluebottle settled 
 on the side. 
 
 '' Not when I come out to enjoy myself. 
 Besides, if you put me into the water, you 
 would be bound to get me out, or never show 
 your face in civilised society again." 
 
 " I know it ; but, nothing venture, nothing 
 have. And after all," as he stepped into the 
 rickety craft, and divested himself of his coat, 
 " if we manage to get more than our share of 
 
230 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 happiness out of this afternoon, we might make 
 room for other people. 
 
 " No, I mean to keep my place in this 
 world as long as I can," she said, with absolute 
 veracity, " and nobody shall ever step into my 
 shoes." 
 
 '^ They wouldn't fit," giving a downward 
 look at the well-shaped boot which peeped from 
 under the hem of her dress, as he helped her 
 into the few inches of space, which was all 
 that she could be allowed to call her own. 
 
 " Now you are perfectly safe, if you keep 
 quite still. Do you think you can manage 
 it ? " as he seated himself with due circum- 
 spection, and arranged his sculls. 
 
 '^ Of course I can," she said, indignantly. 
 " I'm not a baby." 
 
 " And this isn't a cradle," quietly. " Easy 
 there — look out," in a very different tone, 
 as the Ariadne, or Noah's Ark, pushed off 
 simultaneously, and nearly fouled the* out- 
 rigger. 
 
 " Carramba ! '' exclaimed Eianos, whilst his 
 
A WATER-PARTY 231 
 
 wife gave a little scream, which brought a con- 
 temptuous smile to Em's lips. 
 
 "One might easily prophesy a storm in a 
 teacup before many hours have passed/' Miss 
 Kingston remarked, with a significant glance 
 at the Ariadne, as they shot ahead. 
 
 " Yes, but not in a tub," said Dandy, dryly, 
 in his loyalty to the household in Grosvenor 
 Place, resenting any allasion to its difficulties. 
 
 Meanwhile the canoe was making its way 
 through sunshine and shade up the river, and 
 the conversation between Montague and Di 
 Witherington went on like the course of the 
 boat, with intervals of quiet gravity inter- 
 spersed with breaks of happy laughter, for Jack 
 had cast dull care behind him, and was his 
 original cheerful self. Di could scarcely 
 believe that he was the same man, whom she 
 had found so impracticable on the day of the 
 garden-party at The Wilderness. The conver- 
 sation flowed as easily as the river, and instead 
 of being as unresponsive as a fossil, she found 
 him much more like the most satisfactory of 
 
232 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 mediums to a thought-reader. He gave her 
 his ready sympathy about Phil, even when she 
 was so unreasonable as to hope that he would 
 pass " Smalls," - Mods/' and '* Finals," with 
 flying colours, and land a *' first-class " on the 
 golden shores of success, without the prelimin- 
 ary onus of hard work. " It would be awfully 
 rough on the others, though, if he did," Jack 
 remarked, as he pushed the nose of the boat 
 into a bed of rushes, and proposed to wait for 
 the rest of the party as an excuse for a fit of 
 laziness ; '* but 1 don't suppose it would ever 
 strike a woman to think of abstract justice, 
 when she wanted her man to win." 
 
 " Of course not," in laughing disdain, as she 
 bent over the water, and watched one small 
 insect after another hurrying hither and thither 
 in the quest of prey. '' Justice ought never 
 to wear petticoats, and Mercy should always 
 have a woman's face." 
 
 " If you abolished Justice, Mercy would get 
 in a horrible fix." 
 
 ** How so ? Mercy would have her own way 
 in everything." 
 
A WATER-PARTY 233 
 
 " Not she ; she would tear her hair, and bolt 
 after Justice as fast as she could run. Sup- 
 posing Jim Tussler stole Farmer Goodson's 
 goose, and Mercy said, * Never mind, poor little 
 chap, I daresay you wanted a dinner.' Don't 
 you suppose that Mercy would feel rather 
 ashamed of herself, when the farmers of the 
 place were ruined, because the boys had taken 
 to stealing all their hens and chickens, ducks 
 and geese ? " 
 
 " But Mercy would never go so far as that." 
 
 " Yes, she would, if poor old despised Justice 
 didn't act the part of policeman." 
 
 " Yes ; bat, Mr. Montague," the gM per- 
 sisted, because of many arguments which she 
 had had on the subject with her father, " too 
 much severit}^ is just as bad as too little. 
 They all say that Nat Winter was hardened 
 by being sent to prison." 
 
 '' That precious scoundrel who shot Strang- 
 ways' keeper in the leg ? " 
 
 '' But he didn't mean to do it — indeed he 
 didn't,"' looking up at him with earnest eyes 
 and a sudden tremble about her lips, as her 
 
234 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 thoughts flew back from the sunlit river to a 
 small dark room in a dingy alley, where the 
 only sound to be heard was a woman's sobbing 
 as she sat by an empty grate. 
 
 *' Perhaps he mistook him for a rabbit," with 
 fine sarcasm, and some of the animosity that a 
 sportsman is apt to feel for a poacher, " and 
 perhaps he loaded his gun, and never meant to 
 fire? Let us give him the benefit of every 
 doubt ; even then, I think impunity would 
 have only led him to commit the same mistake 
 again." 
 
 '^ That is too bad of you. He had such a 
 good heart." 
 
 " Then he must have been a trial to his own 
 feelings. But don't pin your attention to one 
 man ; think of the many who would have 
 followed his example like a shot, if there had 
 been nothing to pay for it." 
 
 '' No ; that I can never do," shaking her head, 
 to give force to her words. " When Nat was 
 taken off, T could only think of him and his 
 broken-hearted wife : when some one — some 
 
A WATER-PARTY 235 
 
 one whom we never talk of" — a sudden, vivid 
 colour rushing to her cheeks, as she looked 
 away over the shimmering waters to where the 
 willows were making a tremulous darkness of 
 their own amongst rushes and wild grasses, 
 and the trout were hiding in the shallows — 
 " when he was sent awa}'' — though I was only 
 a child, and though I scarcely knew him — I 
 thought of him going out all alone with no one 
 to care for him, and I used to cry over him at 
 night, when they fancied I was asleep. They 
 said it was just and right — and perhaps it was, 
 but I couldn't see it. Why is it always right 
 to be hard ? " 
 
 " Because we are most of us such brutes. A 
 man is always the better for being flogged 
 as a boy. Strong measures suit strong 
 natures." 
 
 " Phil has never been thrashed in his life," 
 rousing herself into a semi-state of indignation 
 at the idea of such profanation to her idol. 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear it," with a smile. 
 " Thrashing is a tonic." 
 
236 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Perhaps Phil is strong enough without it," 
 proudly. 
 
 " Perhaps ; if not, I could apply it when 
 absolutely needed. Would his mother ever 
 forgive me if I did ? " 
 
 '' Mother [might, but / wouldn't. When I 
 think of the future, it is always ' Phil and I 
 together.'" 
 
 "No, no. Look! there you are" — pointing 
 to two small twigs which were floating down 
 stream side by side. "I bet you sixpence that 
 before you get to that patch of rushes, you 
 will take yourself off, and leave Phil in the 
 lurch. This one is you " 
 
 " I won't. I'll stick to him through thick 
 and thin," watching the two inanimate little 
 sticks with eager interest, as if something real 
 and tangible depended on the course they took. 
 " Oh, if it were only fair to give it a prod ! " 
 with a deep breath. 
 
 " There you go, independent as usual. 
 Phil's out in the cold." 
 
 " Where he will never be." 
 
A WATER-PARTY 237 
 
 " And you are rushing into collision with 
 somebody twice as big as 3^ourself. I should 
 like to know who it is/' 
 
 **Mr. Strangways," she said, with a prompt- 
 ness that rather staggered him. And then she 
 laughed softly, as if she had a good joke all to 
 herself. " But I've only gone after him about 
 his workpeople. See, I can't get any 
 further." 
 
 '* No ; you are established as mistress of 
 Greytowers," he said dryly, feeling obliged to 
 make the remark in order to see how she 
 would take it. 
 
 *' No ; not if he would give his people ten 
 shillings a day," she said quickly. And then 
 she added, after a pause, during which Jack 
 had taken up his paddle, having caught the 
 tinkling sound of Miss Kingston's laugh in the 
 distance : '' And yet, what a brute I should 
 be to refuse it ! " 
 
 " A brute ! " he exclaimed, in dismay. " You 
 would be mad if you didn't ! '' 
 
 "It would be the happiness of hundreds 
 
238 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 against that of one girl — Di Witherington," 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " It would be monstrous," he said wrathfully, 
 as the colour flew to his face, and the canoe 
 shot from side to side in a most remarkable 
 manner. 
 
 *'For shame, Mr. Montague; I was only 
 trying to act up to your own principles — 
 sacrificing the one for the sake of the many,' 
 watching him mischievously from under her 
 long lashes. 
 
 *' This is not a case in point," very gravely. 
 
 '•'Don't be afraid. I shall never get the 
 chance." 
 
 " I sincerely hope you won't," still some- 
 what huffily, as his thoughts reverted un- 
 pleasantly to his conversation with the 
 Eector. 
 
 " Don't you know that I was joking from 
 the first ? " she said, with her low, sweet 
 laugh. *' To the Great Mogul, I should seem 
 such a paltry match. He wouldn't have me if 
 I asked him." 
 
A WATER-PARTY 239 
 
 Jack looked at the winning face, the proud 
 little head, so well set on the slender neck, 
 and smiled ; but the only remark he made 
 was ; 
 
 " You owe me sixpence. Miss Withering- 
 ton." 
 
 She got out her purse, and paid it at once 
 in the most business-like manner, although he 
 seemed inclined to remonstrate when it was 
 actually offered him. He immediately en- 
 gaged her in another bet as puerile as the 
 last, and, having lost it, handed her back 
 the identical coin she had just given him. 
 *' If I had been the sentimental fool I was 
 a few years ago," he reflected, " I should have 
 kept that sixpence, and hung it on my watch- 
 chain." 
 
 For the rest of the way they chatted very 
 pleasantly, and Di was all the while in a state 
 of surprise to think how well she got on with 
 him. He seemed as ready for light-hearted 
 chaff as she was herself, and she could not 
 imagine why she had ever compared him to 
 
240 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 the loaf she had made with her own fair 
 hands — of which Phil had remarked with 
 fraternal frankness, " Lead was nothing to 
 it." She had never been in a canoe before, 
 and the soft gliding motion was delightful to 
 her ; and when she reached the place of ren- 
 dezvous sooner than the rest of the party, she 
 was sorry that they had come so quickly. 
 The servants had already arrived with the tea, 
 which they were laying out in a shady nook, 
 with green branches overhead, and the river 
 murmuring softly to the rushes at their feet, 
 seeming to ask a question, but never waiting 
 for an answer. 
 
 Jack, after refreshing himself with a cooling 
 drink prepared by Ely, threw himself down on 
 the bank by Di's side, and felt in a state of 
 lazy beatitude, whilst she found a sort of occu- 
 pation for herself by plaiting some rushes 
 which he had cut for her, and never thought 
 of the pretty picture she made on the bank 
 amongst the tall reeds, with the pale blue of 
 her frock against the soft, dull greens, her 
 
A WATER-PARTY 241 
 
 face innocent as a child's, and thoughtful as a 
 woman's, bent over her work, whilst a sun- 
 beam, peeping like Cupid through the branches, 
 dropped a kiss on her gold-brown hair. There 
 were plenty of boats on the river, of every size 
 and shape, and plenty of specimens of the 
 ^Arry kind, who outraged the aesthetic beauty 
 of wooded banks and gliding waters b}^ shout- 
 ing out snatches of the popular songs of the 
 day. 
 
 Di looked up as a young man, with a 
 loud necktie and loose collar, sang out in 
 an insinuating tone, " Oh, won't you dance 
 the polka?" and gave an involuntary smile,, 
 for he seemed to have forgotten the mean- 
 ing of the words, as he addressed them to 
 her with a languishing look in his eyes. 
 The next moment, perfectly unconscious that 
 a man of six feet two was hidden behind 
 the clump of tall rushes, he pushed his boat 
 close into the bank, and, holding out his 
 hand, called out familiarly : " Come along, 
 Missie ; you are far too pretty to be with- 
 voi. I. Q 
 
242 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 out a sweetheart, so I offers myself and my 
 boat." 
 
 Di drew back, blushing and indignant, 
 whilst Jack, who had been half asleep, sprang 
 with one bound to his feet, and in far less 
 time than it takes to write it, seized the 
 impudent boy by the shoulder with a grasp 
 of iron, lifted him bodily from his seat, and 
 held him over the water as easily as if he had 
 been a rat, whilst the boy screamed like a 
 girl, and kicked like a frightened horse. Di 
 stretched out her hand, and caught Jack by 
 the coat-sleeve. " What are you doing ? 
 You'll drown him ! " she cried breathlessly, 
 as she looked up into his face, white with 
 rage, and saw the fire in his eyes. 
 
 Her voice recalled him to himself, a thrill 
 of intense emotion passed through him from 
 head to foot, chilling the fire in his veins, 
 stilling the wild throbs of his heart. Slowly 
 the gasping boy was dropped back again into 
 his place, a kick sent the boat spinning yards 
 away from land, and Montague, throwing 
 
A WATER-PARTY 243 
 
 himself down on the bank, covered his face 
 with his hands. He forgot the girl who was 
 looking at him with startled eyes ; he forgot 
 where he was, and what he had come for. In 
 thought he was standing on the edge of a 
 precipice, with the gloom of dark pines and 
 frowning rocks around him, and down there — 
 twelve feet below him — a man whom he had 
 sent there — living, as he hurled him by brute 
 force over the edge — dead, when he reached 
 the rock on which he was flung ! 
 
 Di moved softly away, treading on tiptoe, 
 as if in the presence of death. Inst-,inct told 
 her that she was indeed in the presence of a 
 tragedy, which was probably the key to all 
 that puzzled her in Montague's life ; but she 
 went away full of troubled sympathy, every 
 instinct of her kindly nature impelling her to 
 comfort him, and yet intensely conscious that 
 the only kindness she could show him was by 
 her absence ! 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY.'' 
 
 The picnic was a failure, in spite of the con- 
 tinued amiability of the weather and the 
 daintiness of all its accessories in the way of 
 food. Lord Wildgrave had an unusually 
 combative expression on his small, refined 
 face, and as he helped his wife to sugar and 
 cream, there was an acidity in his manner 
 which spoilt the flavour of her strawberries. 
 Montague looked as if he had just suffered 
 from a sunstroke, and gave an evasive answer, 
 instead of an instant denial, when charged 
 with it. Dandy averred that Miss Kingston 
 had so impregnated him with Buddhism, as 
 they dawdled up the river, that in imagination 
 he had already reached Nirvana, and begged 
 
''BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY'' 245 
 
 nobody to disturb him. Ida asserted that no 
 one could reach Nirvana (which she understood 
 to be simply a state of ecstasy) in a land 
 where the midges never ceased from biting; 
 and so she would trouble him to pass up her 
 cup for some more tea. Madame de Eianos was 
 apparently reserving her powers for a subse- 
 quent occasion. She ate fruit and sipped iced 
 coffee in a meditative manner, but otherwise 
 was as lymphatic as a cow; whilst her bus- 
 band nobly struggled against the surrounding 
 atmospheric influences, and talked, as only 
 some foreigners can, with the utmost vivacity 
 and animation, in spite of heat and thirst, 
 and, worst of all, ennui, Em seconded him 
 bravely ; she was tired and cross, but she rose 
 above those afflictions as many women, but 
 few men, succeed in doing. It was not neces- 
 sary to talk very much, but she was angry 
 with her husband and annoyed with Dandy, 
 so she played off the Spaniard against them 
 both. If Di had been more experienced, she 
 would have found much to interest her in 
 
246 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 simply looking on. They were a frivolous set 
 certainly, but under the frivolity there was a 
 substratum of pathos and anxiety, almost of 
 tragedy, of which a few of them had some 
 idea. 
 
 " Now for a stroll in the shade," Em ex- 
 claimed, as she took off her sailor hat and 
 fanned her heated face. 
 
 " Avos ordres, Madame," said Rianos quickl}^ 
 as with one glance at his wife, he caught up 
 his hat and placed himself at Lady Wildgrave's 
 side. 
 
 Annalena frowned ; but the next moment she 
 turned with the sweetest of smiles to Lord 
 Eaymond. 
 
 *' We will not separate," she said, in her 
 soft southern voice ; " in the woods we shall 
 lose ourselves, if we keep not together." 
 
 He gave a cheerful assent, and the}^ started, 
 with only one lagging behind — Wildgrave, 
 smoking a cigar of large dimensions, and hiding 
 his fit of the sulks in a cloud of smoke, and one 
 defaulter — Jack. 
 
''BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY'' 247 
 
 It was a day when most people had to exert 
 all their energies in order to crawl ; but Em, 
 who was foremost, led off at a fast walk, and 
 Madame de Rianos, drawn on by a fear which 
 she could not confess, seemed to think it 
 necessary to stick close to her heels. Penrose 
 tliought himself bound in common courtesy 
 to keep up with her, and Miss Kingston 
 came panting after him, paying but small 
 attention to Di, who, never having been there 
 before, broke out into exclamations of heart- 
 felt admiration at some grand old tree or 
 sunny glade, where the sun shone out in vivid 
 contrast to the darkness of the shadows when 
 the foliage was densest. 
 
 Half an hour later, she was floating down 
 the river with Moutague, a delicious haze 
 giving the charm of mystery to wooded bank 
 or flowing stream, the deep silence seeming to 
 knit them closer together in a new bond of 
 friendship. He was very grave, and scarcely 
 a word was spoken b^^tween them till, in all 
 the glory of the sunset, they floated on 
 
248 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 golden waters to a transfigured Maidenhead. 
 " Skin dies " was already lighted up, for many- 
 people were dining there before returning to 
 town, and the lamps shone out through the 
 creepers on the verandah, like a Skye's bright 
 eyes through his long hair. The lawn was 
 crowded with men in flannels, the air was 
 laden with the scent of tobacco. A girl's 
 laugh rang out with the abandon of youth, 
 and a. woman sang sadly to the mellow notes 
 of a harp. 
 
 Di roused herself with a deep-drawn breath, 
 when she found that they had reached their 
 moorings. 
 
 " You are tired," Montague said, in a tone 
 of concern. 
 
 " I'm only so sorry that it's all over ; " and as 
 she spoke, she looked round with shining eyes 
 on the rose-tinted waters, the foliage half 
 hidden by a silvery haze, the dark, mysterious 
 shadows, where the trees bent low with out- 
 stretched arms, as if to stop the river as it 
 harried by, the one star shining in an opal 
 
''BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY'' 249 
 
 sky, like an angel sent on a message from the 
 peace of heaven to the sorrows of earth. 
 
 Montague stood quite still with folded arms, 
 his back to the noise and hilarity of the inn, 
 his face to the silent shadows stealing like 
 ghosts over the glory of the river, as the one 
 dark shadow had crept over the happiness of 
 his life, three endless years ago. Miss King- 
 ston's voice, clear and metallic, brought him 
 back to the present with a start. 
 
 " Here we are, Mr. Montague, and the rear- 
 guard are close behind. Did you think we 
 were lost ? " 
 
 " Jove, we've none too much time," said 
 Dandy, languidly, as he shipped his oars. 
 *' Hurry on, somebody, and catch hold of the 
 
 train." 
 
 ***** 
 
 Later in the evening, when the very late 
 dinner was over and the guests had departed, 
 Em threw herself into a brocaded causeuse, and 
 gave vent to her feelings after her usual 
 fashion. She was a spontaneous little being, 
 
250 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 and never allowed an idea to germinate long 
 before it was uttered, which accounted perhaps 
 for the fact that her ideas rarely acquired 
 strength or grandeur, and had but small in- 
 fluence on her actions. " Who was it that 
 said, ' Life would be bearable if it weren't for 
 its pleasures ' ? I honour that man, and 
 perfectly agree with him." 
 
 "Depends upon the pleasures," Dandy 
 suggested, with a quiet smile. "It is said 
 that a woman's greatest pleasure is to have a 
 prettier gown than her neighbour. Are you 
 going to give up toilettes for the future ? " 
 
 " What is the use of having you for a friend, 
 if you can't follow my line of thought ? " she 
 asked, in a tone of subdued exasperation. 
 " Do I look like a woman who is thinking of 
 gowns ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; but as if you had thought of 
 one to some purpose," with a glance at the 
 extremely neat, nautical " get-up " in which 
 she had outshone Madame de Rianos. 
 
 " Compliments in my present state of mind 
 
''BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY" 251 
 
 are like bonbons to the starving — very poor 
 sort of food," with a pout, and an impatient 
 movement of her small foot. 
 
 Lord Eaymond looked like a monument of 
 gravity in a moment. " I've one piece of 
 advice to offer you." 
 
 " Don't ; I hate advice." 
 
 '' But you needn't take it," soothingly. " If 
 somebody won't go the way you wish, let him 
 go his own way, and don't bother." 
 
 ''But I can't; and yet, Dandy, don't you 
 see, it will be the ruin of me ? " hot tears 
 starting to her eyes. One drop fell upon the 
 tuberose she was twirling about in her fingers, 
 and his quick eyes saw it. 
 
 " Where did you get that thing from ? " 
 
 "From the Spaniard, of course. Did you 
 notice the curious look in his eyes ? " 
 
 " No ; I noticed his back, and longed to 
 kick it. Why did you flirt with him so 
 outrageously ? " 
 
 "How could I help it? It's my only 
 defence." 
 
252 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 '' Don't do it, Em," with unusual earnest- 
 ness, as he sat down on the end of a low sofa 
 which was close to her chair. " I know you 
 can't care for that beastly little Spaniard ; but 
 you are like a fellow who fixes his bayonet on 
 the butt-end of his rifle. Instead of running 
 it through an enemy, he will stick it into his 
 own chest." 
 
 " I don^t care if I do." 
 
 " Oh, but that's incipient lunacy," quietly. 
 
 "Well; and if I go mad, is it not 
 natural?" 
 
 "I hope not; but anyhow, it would be 
 awfully unpleasant.' 
 
 " Dandy, if ever I die ! " — looking up at 
 him with solemn eyes. 
 
 " Certain to do it, sooner or later." 
 
 " Yes, but sooner, it's sure to be sooner,''* 
 pathetically. " Do you think he would marry 
 that wretched woman ? " 
 
 " No ; she would lose her charm ; besides, 
 she has a husband. But don't look tragic ; a 
 butterfly would never think of settling on the 
 
''BETTER TO LAUGH THAN TO CRY" 253 
 
 sharp points of a thistle, so why make so much 
 of the unpleasant things in life." 
 
 " I won't, only when my brother first came 
 home I told him I was the happiest being 
 under the sun," the corners of her mouth 
 drooping like a disappointed child's. 
 
 " You would have become positively un- 
 interesting." 
 
 " Am I nice because I grumble? " 
 
 " Eather. Nothing so sickening as self- 
 satisfaction." 
 
 '' Why do you always laugh at me ? " 
 
 " Laugh when you can, cry when you must. 
 If all women would remember that, life would 
 be much easier." 
 
 " I will never ask you for sympathy again," 
 her eyes flashing through their tears. 
 
 " I shan't want to be asked," with perfect 
 composure. " Grive me that flower." 
 
 "You don't deserve it." She let him take 
 it, however, out of her hand, for it reminded 
 her of a hateful afternoon, and the first thing 
 he did with it was to fling it out of the window. 
 
254 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "There," he said, as he looked down his 
 nose at her. " If you must flirt, flirt with rae. 
 I'm as safe as an archbishop ; that Spaniard's 
 dynamite. Good-night." 
 
 He bent low over her hand, then departed 
 without another word, and she sat still with a 
 peculiar smile on her pretty mouth. After all, 
 it is pleasanter to laugh than to cry. 
 
CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 OBSTRUCTION BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION. 
 
 Jack Montague returned home the day after 
 the picnic, anxious for some bracing talk with 
 a man engaged in earnest work of some kind 
 or other. He felt the enervating influence of 
 the Wildgraves' aimless life acutely, and if he 
 could have followed his own eager desire of the 
 moment, he would suddenly have developed 
 into a soldier on active service, with a difficult 
 post to gain at risk of limb or life. He thought 
 that he had acquired, by dint of bitter remem- 
 brance and unceasing watchfulness, an iron 
 self-control which was safe against all attacks ; 
 but his outburst of almost murderous rage at 
 Clieveden, had opened his eyes to the fact that 
 it was only sure not to break down, when 
 
256 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 there was no extraneous pressure upon it. It 
 was a humiliation deep as the Bathybian depths 
 of the Atlantic, a disappointment huge as the 
 mountain of Ruwenzori. How could he ever 
 hope to be reconciled with himself, if he felt 
 that he was as unreliable as the weakest fool he 
 ever met? He had always prided himself on 
 being a strong man, both mentally and physi- 
 cally ; but where was his boasted strength, it 
 he could not count on himself when provoca- 
 tion came ? He was in the same position as 
 the soldier, whose bayonet doubled up at the 
 first desperate on-rush of the dervishes and 
 their Arab followers. For an unreliable weapon 
 was worse than no weapon at all; and a sudden 
 break-down in a strong will was more humili- 
 ating than the persistent weakness of a less 
 virile nature. If poor little Em yielded to 
 every impulse, and entangled her own feet in 
 a net in her hopeless, frantic attempts to dis- 
 entangle her husband, Jack had a generous pity 
 for her ; but he had no pity for himself. She 
 was a woman, er^o weak, he argued, with the 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 2S7 
 
 gentle sort of contempt that some men feel for 
 the softer sex. Woman and weakness went 
 together, as clouds with rain ; but a man w^as 
 nothing if not strong — a fraud, a mere pretence, 
 with no place in the world base enough for him 
 to fill. In his stern justice to himself he was 
 terribly unjust to women, ignoring the wonder- 
 ful fund of endurance and fortitude they possess 
 in the hour of pain or sorrow, when many a 
 man gives way. But to be unsatisfied with 
 yourself is a most uncomfortable condition, and 
 throws a jaundiced shade upon the world. To 
 Montague it seemed as if the whole world were 
 out of gear because he was so himself, and he 
 found it difiScult to answer any question about 
 the Wildgraves, in a tone sufficiently cheerful 
 to satisfy his mother. He could not tell her 
 that the Yiscount was getting within a proxi- 
 mate distance of the thrashing, which his 
 prophetic soul had destined for him almost at 
 first sight, or that Em would soon become a dis- 
 tinguished member of the '' Married Women's 
 Flirtation rraternity." Neither could he hum- 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
258 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 bug. He wenfc so far as to tell her that Em 
 was going the pace, and immensely run after ; 
 and that he considered Wildgrave an empty- 
 headed masher, with no serious preoccupation 
 in life, except other people's admiration for his 
 own insignificant self. 
 
 '' I am sorry that 3^ou and he don't seem 
 inclined to hit it off," Mrs. Montague said 
 regretfully, as she sat at the head of the table, 
 carefully and even richly dressed, with a small, 
 snow-white cap resting on her smooth fair 
 hair. " He is always very nice to me, and I 
 must say I like him.'' 
 
 *' Sort of man that every one likes. But 
 there's no more in him than in a kitten. I 
 gould fancy him playing with a reel of cotton, 
 and running after his tail, if he had one. Em 
 must have been hard up for playthings when 
 she took him." 
 
 " Jack, you are too hard," his mother said 
 with a smile. " If we were all made on the 
 same pattern, how tired we should be of each 
 other." 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 259 
 
 "Quite right, mother; but matrimony's a 
 serious game, and you won't get on very well 
 if you've only a doll to help you play it," as he 
 took a cutlet covered with tomato sauce. 
 
 " Perhaps there is more in Wildgrave 
 than you think," she said hopefully. "He 
 gave me a half-crown in the nicest manner, 
 directly I told him of Jane Tussler's mis- 
 fortunes.^^ 
 
 " He's generous enough ; in fact, he's only 
 too ready to give himself away to the first 
 person that wants him," and he laughed as he 
 drank his Chateau Margaux. 
 
 " I've heard of a person giving away his 
 head." 
 
 " Oh, Wildgrave does it thoroughly.^' Then 
 hastily changing the subject, he asked after 
 the Kinder sleys, and was told that Mrs. 
 Kinder sley had a cold, but that Flora had 
 been very good, running in whenever she had 
 a moment to spare. 
 
 " To spare from Phil ? " suggested Jack, 
 mischievously. 
 
26o NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "Well, of course, theyVe been very much 
 thrown together," said Mrs. Montague cau- 
 tiously ; " his own family being in town, and 
 the Eectory so close." 
 
 " Yes, and the girl so pretty, and the boy so 
 spooney, they would be sure to throw them- 
 selves together if circumstances didn't do it for 
 them. And the Eector ? " 
 
 "I'm sorry to say that he has been very 
 much bothered by that wretched Mr. Strang- 
 ways ; I would give anything to hear that he 
 had left the place." 
 
 "Hear, hear," said Jack, smiling at his 
 mother's warmth. 
 
 " They are trying to force a School Board 
 on Dainton, and it's the greatest shame in the 
 world. You've got some property, you know, 
 in the town, so you must prevent it ; indeed, 
 you must," she insisted^ with perfect faith in 
 her son's powers. 
 
 Montague smiled. " If Vivian can't prevent 
 it, nobody can ; but I'll undertake to make it 
 unpleasant for them all round, by Jove, I will ! " 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 261 
 
 Neither of them had noticed a ring at the 
 front door ; but the butler came in with a card 
 on a silver salver. 
 
 Jack took it up and made a grimace. 
 
 " Talk of the devil/' he muttered, and then 
 looked at his mother, as he said : " Mr. 
 Strangways." 
 
 '^ Mr. Strangways at this time of night ! 
 How very extraordinary ! Don't let him come 
 in here," she said quickly, dislike stifling her 
 usual hospitable instincts. 
 
 "Show Mr. Strangways into the smoking- 
 room." 
 
 ''He is there already, sir," said Mason 
 quietly. ''I made sure that the mistress 
 would not want him in the drawing-room." 
 
 " Quite right. Don t wait for me, mother." 
 
 '' But you haven't finished your dinner." 
 
 *' Yes, all but dessert. You can send some 
 wine into the other room if you like. I sup- 
 pose the fellow smokes." 
 
 The capitalist, after giving a contemptuous 
 look round the room, which was adorned after 
 
262 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 a fashion that bespoke a refined taste as well 
 as a sportsman's natural pursuits, turned to 
 the large window and considered the garden. 
 He cared nothing for the engravings of Land- 
 seer's principal pictures, which looked remark- 
 ably well on the Venetian-red walls of the 
 smoking-room, for the wapiti's head or the 
 elephant's tusk, for the assegai which had 
 once been held in the grasp of a Zulu chief, 
 or for the curiously chased and jewel-hilted 
 sword which had once hung in the belt of a 
 fat Pasha, and helped to thin his numerous 
 retinue, long before the Turk had ever been 
 called " unspeakable," in the happy days when 
 he could practise his little ways without being 
 worried by European interference. Jack was 
 very fond of his gun-case, in which he had 
 hung his favourite Express, breech-loader, and 
 fowling piece ; and he liked to be surrounded 
 by the various odds and ends he had collected 
 in his travels, whilst Mr. Strangways cared for 
 nothing but what represented, or might be 
 made to represent, hard cash. The tiger-skin 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 263 
 
 which he was treading under f he soles of his 
 thick boots was nothing but a skin, well pre- 
 served, price so much. It did not speak to 
 him as it did to Montague of the sudden 
 hurry and skurry after long waiting, when the 
 tiger's lithe body appears half hidden in the 
 jungle, the eyes gleaming like two living coals, 
 the cat-like spring, the elephant's scream as 
 the cruel claws cling partly to its skin, and 
 partly to the flap of the houdah, the well- 
 aimed shot when life or death hang on the 
 chance of a bullet, the thrill of exultation 
 as the claws loose their hold, and the fierce 
 beast slips down to die on the brown grass. 
 In a word, he had no sporting instincts, and he 
 summed up Jack's treasured mementoes as a 
 pack of rubbish. The garden, where the 
 flowers were allowed to grow somewhat ac- 
 cording to their natural bent, instead of being 
 clipped aad pruned with mathematical pre- 
 cision, was dismissed, as it were, with a 
 deprecatory raising of the eyebrows ; and he 
 turned to meet Jack as he came into the room 
 
264 ^O COMPROMISE 
 
 with a comfortable sense of complete superi- 
 ority, because at Grreytowers everything was 
 brand-new, from the rose-trees on the lawn to 
 the brilliant, brazen coal-scuttles in every bed- 
 and sitting-room. 
 
 Mr. Strang ways made his excuses for calling 
 at such a late hour, which Montague received 
 courteously, as he shook hands with him, and 
 motioned him to a comfortable chair. 
 
 " Fact is, Mr. Montague, I'm a busy man," 
 he went on, as he seated himself just opposite 
 to Jack on the other side of the French 
 window, " and I've no time to run in and out 
 of my neighbours' houses, as the idle people do 
 hereabouts." 
 
 Jack felt supremely thankful that Mr. 
 Strangways' occupations kept him from always 
 ringing Tlie Priory bell, but he only murmured 
 something about not being idle, and then held 
 out his cigar case with a careless, " I suppose 
 you smoke ? " 
 
 '* No, I don't ; it's a nasty habit and an ex- 
 pensive one. I couldn't afford it when I was 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 265 
 
 a lad, and now I've got the cash, IVe got 
 something else to spend it on. I tell you 
 what, Mr. Montague," nursing his knee, and 
 lapsing into a confidential tone, '' we are ter- 
 ribly behind the times down here. No move- 
 ment, no progress, no anything.'' 
 
 ''Only leave us in peace, that is all we 
 ask," said Jack quietly. 
 
 Strangways stared. 
 
 " You mean that you like to be left behind, 
 when every one else is going forward ? " 
 
 " Certainly. When progress means a general 
 upsetting of all that we've guarded for years, I 
 naturally say, 'leave us alone.' " 
 
 " You would sit down in the middle of the 
 road, and rather than move let yourself be run 
 over ? " 
 
 " Not I. I would stand where I have always 
 stood," Jack said emphatically, conscious of the 
 centuries of ancestors behind him, whilst the 
 other man never had a standpoint worth fight- 
 ing for till a few years ago ; " and let the others 
 rush on to any apotheosis they chose to fancy." 
 
266 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 "Ah, but you would stand in their way/* 
 
 " That doesn't follow. If you don't tread 
 on my toes, I will give a wide berth to 
 yours." 
 
 " Would you now ? You are sure of it? " 
 If he could induce Montague to be passive, 
 he felt that it would be one point gained. 
 " Look here, Mr. Montague, supposing we 
 don't interfere with Derwent's Cray — I know 
 the Eector and you are great churns, and par- 
 sons like to have their finger in every pie — 
 well now, if we leave him his twopenny half- 
 penny school, supposing again that he can 
 get the funds to keep it going, may we reckon 
 on your support over in Dainton ? Just say 
 that you will go in with us for the School 
 Board, and " 
 
 " I'm hanged if I will ! " starting up with 
 sudden energy. " There are Vivian, and Ben- 
 son, and Newcome, slaving themselves to death 
 amongst the scum of the population, as they 
 have done for years ; and is all the harvest ot 
 their work and self-denial to be taken from 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 267 
 
 them, because men will not spend one shilling 
 in defence of a principle, whilst they squander 
 thousands on their extravagances ? " He stood 
 on the Persian rug, his earnest face lit up with 
 the fire of enthusiasm, for his heart's deepest 
 sympathy had been roused by the labours of 
 Cyril Vivian and the rest of the clergy, amongst 
 the dingy alleys of the poorest suburb in 
 Dainton. It seemed a positive sacrilege for a 
 man like Strangways, to put his elephantine 
 hoof down upon the delicate fabric of Faith 
 and Hope they were trying to rear. 
 
 The capitalist drew himself up. " You 
 are mistaken, sir," he said gruffly. " If you 
 and your parsons are fighting for a principle, 
 so am I. I'm a Unitarian, and I ain't ashamed 
 to confess it. I was brought up in it,'' he went 
 on, as if he were talking of a cradle or a house, 
 " and I mean to live and die in it. And I'm 
 dashed if I see why I should stand by, and let 
 all the blessed children of my own workpeople 
 be taught to believe in anything that goes 
 against my conscience and my reason." 
 
268 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " You would not force them all to be brought 
 up as Unitarians ? '' incredulously. 
 
 ** I'm not for forcing any one to be anything 
 they don't want to be," doggedly. 
 
 *' Then, in common justice, you would not 
 constrain the children of Christian parents to 
 be brought up practically as heathens ? " 
 
 " You are going too far — a bit of the Bible 
 is read in almost every Board school in the 
 kingdom." 
 
 *' Yes ; and whilst the Board are wrangling 
 as to whether Amos was a Liberal, or Jeremiah 
 a Socialist, the children get their instruction in 
 casual scraps, which will neither make them 
 better men nor even passable Christians." 
 
 " Well, it would come just as hard on us. 
 You can t deny that," leaning forward with one 
 hand on each knee. " We are not a bit nearer 
 being heathen than you are ; but what I stand 
 up for is fair-play." 
 
 "I beg your pardon. I call it just the re- 
 verse." 
 
 " There you are wrong, Mr. Montague, and 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 269 
 
 I don't mind telling you so/' he said, with 
 absolute veracity. *' We all want education ; 
 even the most pig-headed and prejudiced of 
 the parsons must allow that. Well, then, it 
 is right and proper that we should all pay for 
 it. You can't get out of that." 
 
 " No ; I agree to that most heartily. Let 
 the Unitarians pay for the Unitarians, and 
 vice versa. To show you that I mean what I 
 say " — moving toward a davenport, opening it 
 quickly, and taking out his cheque-book — " I 
 am ready to plump down a cheque for 
 one hundred pounds for our little Church 
 school here, if you will plump down another, 
 say of five hundred pounds — a mere flea-bite to 
 you — towards a school for your Unitarians." 
 A dull red flushed the capitalist's face, and 
 his under lip protruded sullenly. He looked 
 up at Jack, standing before him with a cheque 
 in his hand, and a mischievous twinkle in his 
 eyes, and frowned angrily. '*No, Mr. Mon- 
 tague, you can chuck your money away if 
 you like, but it's against my principles. 
 
270 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 Education is a State affair, and no man ought 
 to have a monopoly of it/' 
 
 " Would you object to a monopoly in boots 
 and shoes ? " very quietly. 
 
 "No, by George! if I could get it," his 
 face lighting up, as bis natural cupidity caught 
 fire. " If I could only drive the other fellows 
 out of the market, and make a corner in boots 
 and shoes, I would make the name of Strang- 
 ways as well known as that of Hothschild." 
 
 " And your principles would not stand in 
 the way ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it," in supremest contempt ; 
 " let each man fight for himself." 
 
 " It seems to me, Mr. Strangways, that you 
 and I differ as to the meaning of the word 
 ' principle,' " said Jack, slowly. " Your prin- 
 ciples tell you that it is unfair for Unitarians 
 to be brought up as Christians, and I agree 
 with you to a certain extent ; but they don't 
 make you stretch out a finger to secure the 
 teaching you make such a fuss about — how's 
 that ? " 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 271 
 
 Mr. Strangways fidgeted uneasily, but he 
 was not the man to own his discomfiture. 
 " Because I don't see why I should empty my 
 pockets, when the tradesmen and the farmers 
 button up theirs. Let them all fork out, I 
 say. Eate 'em all. Education is not for one 
 here, nor another there ; it's for every man 
 Jack of them ; so let them all pay their 
 share." 
 
 " Then, after all, you reduce it to a ques- 
 tion of money," said Jack coldly. " I thought 
 as much." 
 
 " Well, T should have thought you had 
 lived long enough in the world to know that 
 the money question came into everything," he 
 returned, not one bit abashed. " I've a notion 
 that Her Majesty's Ministers wouldn't be so 
 keen for the job, if there weren't a big salary- 
 attached to it." 
 
 " Politics are hard work." 
 
 '* Lord bless yoa ! I don't grudge them the 
 money," as he got up from his chair, and felt 
 for his hat. " But when I've got a bit 
 
272 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 together — made a pile, as the Yankees say — I 
 don't see why I should fling it ahout in hand- 
 fuls for m}" neighbours to pick up ; and I 
 expect we are all in the same box." 
 
 " Not quite," with a smile. " We have 
 principles, and we don't mind paying for 
 them." 
 
 " Then you are very unlike me," with a 
 harsh laugh. " I've as good a set of principles 
 as anybody, but I object to paying for them, 
 or for anything else. What's the good of 
 money if you can't keep it ? " 
 
 *' Opinions difier," said Montague, with in- 
 ward amusement, the only outward sign of 
 which was a twitch in his moustaches. " What's 
 the good of money if you do keep it ? " 
 
 " Hopeless lunatic ! " Mr. Strangways re- 
 marked to himself, but he said aloud, " Well, 
 good-evening, Mr. Montague ; you wouldn't 
 bring me over to your way of thinking if I 
 stayed the whole night, so I may as well be off. 
 You've made up your mind to join the party 
 of obstruction." 
 
BETTER THAN DESTRUCTION 273 
 
 " If you like to call it so," with a shrug of 
 his shoulders. '^ But remember that obstruction 
 is a thousand times better than ^/^struction ; 
 such as you are going in for." 
 
 *' Might I ask what we are going to de- 
 stroy ? " with a look on his face which almost 
 amounted to a sneer. 
 
 " What you loish to destroy ? Eeligion — 
 that is all," very quietly. 
 
 *' That is grossly unfair," fiercely. 
 
 "It is logic. If you were its bitterest 
 enemy, you could not go to work in a different 
 
 manner." 
 
 " I could swear that I had as much religion 
 as any of you." 
 
 "Then it is incredible that you should 
 grudge it to other people. But go to the 
 Bectory, Mr. Kindersley can talk to you far 
 better than I can." 
 
 " I am going there," defiantly ; " and to the 
 Colonel's afterwards. Hard words sha'n't 
 make any difference between us," he added 
 in a more conciliatory tone, as he reflected 
 
 VOL. I. s 
 
274 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 that it would be awkward to quarrel with one 
 of the principal landowners of the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 "None at all/' holding out a rather un- 
 willing hand. " Good-evening, Mr. Strang- 
 ways ; I promise to judge you onl}'- by your 
 actions. By-the-bye, mayn't I offer you a glass 
 of wine ? " 
 
 Mr. Strangways glanced towards the side- 
 table, where the cut-glass decanters were placed 
 on an old-fashioned silver tray, but he declined 
 all refreshment, and marched out of the room 
 with the air of a victorious general, though he 
 had just sustained his first defeat. 
 
 " Infernal, humbugging, hypocritical cad," 
 Jack burst out, as soon as his guest had 
 departed. " I would have given him a piece 
 of my mind, only it might have made it harder 
 for Yivian ! " 
 
CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 THE PARISH OF ST. MARY's, DAINTON. 
 
 A DAPPER little pony-cart, with two girls 
 inside, and a well-shaped pony, with clean- 
 cut legs, in the shafts, stood before the clergy- 
 house in James Street, Dainton. Dainton 
 was a picturesque town, with a grand old 
 church for the centre of the market-place. 
 A priest had once called this the heart of the 
 town, from which the narrow streets ran off 
 like the different arteries, to which a cynic had 
 replied, " If you mean the market, not the 
 church, I'm with you there, for the farmer 
 comes with his samples of grains, another man 
 with the produce of his three acres, a girl with 
 her bunches of violets, a gipsy with his baskets 
 and chairs — the thirst of gain brings them in 
 
276 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 crowds to the market, but prayer draws only 
 two or three inside the church's doors." Eeli- 
 gion, in fact, did not flourish with any of the 
 vitality of a green bay-tree. It was brought out 
 on Sundays by the midde-class, with the wife's 
 best bonnet, and the husband's sleek suit of 
 black ; and it was put away again, like those 
 same superior articles, on Sunday evenings, for 
 it was much too good to be used on a week-day. 
 As to the working population, who huddled 
 together in over-crowded hovels and many- 
 storied lodging-houses, best bonnets were few, 
 and of black suits there were none ; and Sunday 
 was only noticeable because it was the one day 
 without pay, and the men had more leisure to 
 get drunk, and more opportunity for the beating 
 of their wives. At one time there was always 
 a row on Sunday in one of the dingy streets 
 going down to the river. The police expected 
 it as part of their regular work, and there were 
 plenty of the drunk and disorderly run in, every 
 Sunday night. The Vicar of the parish of St. 
 Mary's, in this unpleasant suburb of Dainton, 
 
THE PARISH OF ST. MARTS, DAINTON 277 
 
 felt too old to grapple with any social problem 
 that had not been as nicely prepared for him 
 as the mayonnaise, or the fricassee at dinner. 
 Raw material was obnoxious to him, so he 
 used to get up in the pulpit and preach to the 
 comfortable, respectable, middle-class of the 
 vice and the misery round and about, of which 
 neither he nor they knew anything by personal 
 contact or experience. When some energetic 
 individual urged him to do something to stop 
 the curse of drunkenness, spreading like a 
 blight over youth as well as age, he would 
 sajT-, with a bland smile, that he had preached 
 on temperance only last Sunday, and if they 
 would not attend to his words he could not 
 help it. That the principal offenders were 
 not within ear-shot was a trifling detail about 
 which he did not trouble himself It did not 
 fret his soul to know that the parish was 
 going to the dogs, whilst he sat in his arm- 
 chair nursing his rheumatism, for he con- 
 sidered that so long as he could conduct two 
 services once a week, subscribe to the local 
 
278 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 charities, and give advice when it was asked 
 for, he was doing his duty conscientiously. 
 Perfectly resigned to his own incapacity, he 
 had no more idea of resigning his living than 
 his life ; but he caught a chill — though hov/ 
 he managed it in his " covered-with-cotton- 
 wool sort of existence " nobody could conceive 
 — and death hurried him away without any 
 regard for his inclination to dawdle. 
 
 It was a happy thing for Dainton when the 
 old man was laid in his grave. Some of his 
 parishioners, in kindly pity, said : " After all, 
 he was harmless ;" but they made a terrible 
 mistake. Idleness in a vicar begets stagnation 
 in a parish, and stagnation means spiritual 
 starvation, and starvation cannot be called a 
 moderate evil. 
 
 When the Hon. and Rev. Cyril Vivian was 
 appointed to the living of St. Mary's, he soon 
 found that the work could not be properly 
 done without the assistance of two curates. 
 He was fortunate in finding two young men — • 
 Arthur Newcome and William Benson — who 
 
THE PARISH OF ST. MARY'S, DAINTON 279 
 
 were on the point of joining the Oxford Mission 
 at the East End; but whom he easily persuaded 
 to come and help him amongst the neglected 
 poor of Dainton. They established themselves 
 in a clergy. house in James Street, and set to 
 work with the energy of youth and enthusiasm. 
 The vast burden of pain and trouble in the 
 world had not yet overweighted their powers 
 of hope, and they began work with the zeal of 
 new recruits. Of course they found all sorts 
 of difficulties, and the people who seemed most 
 bound to help them stood aside, and those who 
 had listened most eagerly at the beginning, 
 turned deaf ears when the charm of novelty 
 wore away. Vivian was not the man to be 
 baffled by a difficulty. He regarded it in the 
 light of its old-fashioned definition — i.e.y "a 
 thing to be overcome." Finding that the 
 parish church contained nobody who wore a 
 shabby coat or a battered bonnet, he managed 
 to get a few friends together, and soon an iron 
 church reared its tiny steeple amongst the 
 tall factory chimneys on the left bank of the 
 
28o NO COMPROMISE 
 
 river Derwent. Di Witherington and Flora 
 Kindersley, very much assisted by Miss 
 Newton, the governess at The Wilderness, 
 worked a beautiful altar-cloth, Mr. Kindersley 
 presented the brass cross, Mrs. Montague the 
 candlesticks and vases. Lady Wildgrave, who 
 knew some of Vivian's people in London, sent 
 a substantial cheque, and Lord Eaymond 
 Penrose, spurred on by Em's enthusiastic 
 account of Vivian's labours in unfruitful soil, 
 contributed a small organ as an anonymous 
 offering. 
 
 " It's all very well," croaked Mrs. Wither- 
 ington, in her usual dejected fashion. "He 
 has got the church and everything he wants ; 
 but it will be all so much money wasted with- 
 out a congregation." 
 
 The vicar and his two curates were very 
 anxious on this particular point. Although 
 they presented a bold front to the world, if any 
 of their friends and well-wishers were kind 
 enough to come, they begged them to put on 
 their shabbiest dresses, so that the poor people 
 
THE PARISH OF ST. MARY'S, DAINTON 281 
 
 miglit not be frightened away by smart clothes. 
 The girls rather enjoyed the fun of disguising 
 themselves in the oldest garments they could 
 find ; and when they entered the church on 
 the day of the consecration, hoping that at 
 least they might see some of the people to 
 whom they had been giving soup and firing 
 during the winter, they were surprised to find 
 that it was crowded from the door-mat to the 
 chancel- steps. Vivian used to say afterwards 
 that that was the happiest evening of his life ; 
 for he knew, as he looked down on that sea of 
 eager, careworn faces, that his struggles and 
 his labours had not been all in vain. Enemies 
 had jeered ; friends had sometimes asked, " Cui 
 bono?" But the answer to both was here — 
 when men who had never sung anything but 
 coarse songs before, joined reverently in the 
 joyous hymns, and women, whose hearts had 
 been burdened by the bitterness of life, sobbed 
 out their griefs to their God on their tired 
 knees. 
 
 Of course there was no miraculous conversion 
 
282 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 of the whole suburb ; men who had been 
 drunkards and blasphemers the week before, 
 did not suddenly turn into sober, serious- 
 minded saints ; but a beginning had been 
 made — a few tiny shoots from the good seed 
 sown began to appear timidly above the 
 ground. Wife-beating was no longer the pre- 
 valent fashion in Wellington Row and Stanley 
 Lane ; and dirty children, with half-starved 
 bodies and wholly-starved minds, struggled up 
 the steps of the Sunday-school, and made their 
 way furtively to the forms prepared for them. 
 Dainton was too far off from Derwent's Cray for 
 help to be given by many of the ladies there, 
 but Vivian appealed to that hitherto inert 
 mass of the middle-class ; and the effect of his 
 own example was such that he did not appeal 
 in vain. The former Vicar had offered them 
 no outlet for their energies, so that their 
 normal state of stagnation had fastened on 
 them with the force of habit, whilst the whole 
 parish was going to sleep. But now that the 
 man at the helm was displaying such activity 
 
THE PARISH OF ST. MARY'S, DAINTON 283 
 
 and courage, they saw that it was time for the 
 crew to rouse themselves as well. Many re- 
 sponded to the Vicar's call who were perfectly 
 unsuited to the work he had prepared for 
 them ; and although they had considered the 
 offer of their services as a great condescension, 
 they took the refusal of them as an unpardon- 
 able affront. The much be-ribboned and be- 
 feathered brigade of giggling girls who made 
 eyes at the curates over the edges of their 
 hymn-books, and plotted matrimony whenever 
 they came in contact with celibacy, were a sore 
 trial to the Vicar's patience. The attempt to 
 mix flirtation with the serious work of the 
 parish set his moral teeth on edge ; and though 
 Mr. Benson and Mr. Newcome perfectly agreed 
 with his sentiments, they could not help being 
 amused at his wrathful contempt for the fair 
 offenders. He would not have them at any 
 price, either as district visitors or teachers 
 in the Sunday-school; but he diplomatically 
 suggested that they should have needlework 
 meetings in their own homes, and invite the 
 
284 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 women of the alleys and lanes to come and sew. 
 This suggestion had a very good effect, and 
 gave them a suitable field for their exertions, 
 whilst the veriest flirt, whose trade was break- 
 ing hearts, could do no harm amongst a pack of 
 women. Miss Witherington and Miss Kin- 
 dersley, being the most attractive girls in the 
 neighbourhood, were considered quite safe by 
 the short-sighted Vicar ; and allowed to under- 
 take the pleasant task of civilising the in- 
 habitants of Wellington Row and Stanley 
 Lane. For this purpose they came over to 
 Dainton once a week, and their visits brought 
 some ra}?- of light into the darkened lives of 
 the poverty-stricken people. Even if they had 
 come empty-handed, they still would have been 
 most heartily welcome, for their kind words, 
 pleasant faces, soft voices, and even their pretty 
 dresses, made a pleasant relief to the unlovely 
 monotony of existence. 
 
 Cyril Vivian was a man whom you would 
 have noticed anywhere, not for ar^y especial 
 beauty of feature, but because of the distinction 
 
THE PARISH OF ST. MARY'S, DAINTON 285 
 
 of his bearing, and the nobility of his expres- 
 sion. His figure was slight and well knit, but 
 his chest was sunken, which gave him an ap- 
 pearance of physical weakness in contrast with 
 the mental strength of his forehead. His hair, 
 which was brown and disposed to be curly, was 
 already rather worn away from his temples, 
 his eyes were blue, bright, and fearless, his 
 nosC; inclined to be Roman, was too large for 
 the rest of his face, and the sweetness of his 
 mouth gave a touch of softness to a counte- 
 nance which was full of power and intellect. 
 He looked a bright example of the true English 
 gentleman and the Anglican priest, as he 
 stood on the grey stone steps of the clergy- 
 house, his hat in his hand, the sun shining 
 on his fair head, and a pleasant smile on his 
 lips. 
 
 " My father says you must come, or he will 
 never forgive you," said Di Witherington ear- 
 nestly. " A game of cricket will do you all 
 the good in the world, and we are going to 
 play The Priory." 
 
286 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 " Yes," put in Flora Kindersley. '' And we 
 hurried over to catch you before Mr. Mon- 
 tague. Do come, please. We want somebody 
 strong on our side." 
 
 " I'll send you Benson and Newcome. One 
 is a much better bat than I am." 
 . " No, no," they both exclaimed, and urged 
 their point so strenuously that Vivian, who 
 was very ready to say *' Yes," in order to 
 oblige another, though particularly capable of 
 saving "No" under the most aggravating 
 circumstances, whenever conscience demanded 
 it, began to consider possibilities. 
 
 " Benson has been looking fagged," he 
 began thoughtfully, " so that I should like 
 him to have the whole day if he could ; but 
 would you allow Newcome and me to divide it 
 between us?" 
 
 ''Better than nothing," said Di, with an 
 attempt at a pout. 
 
 " Then you must give us the last half," 
 suggested Mora, thinking of the late dinner to 
 which he might be entrapped. 
 
THE PARISH OF ST. MARTS, DAINTON 287 
 
 " Very well. I'll come over for the second 
 innings— and I'm sure I shall enjoy it im- 
 mensely." 
 
 " We will send the cart for you at two 
 o'clock, if we can get hold of a single male 
 about the place to drive if 
 
 " That will be giving you so much trouble/' 
 with compunction. 
 
 " One or two people are worth it," blushing 
 crimson as she said it, for Di was always 
 rather shy with the Vicar of St. Mary's, be- 
 cause she had such a fervent admiration and 
 reverence for him. 
 
 ^'I will walk over," he said quietly, taking 
 no notice of the pretty speech. '-' It will do 
 me all the good in the world." 
 
 " Beautifully you would play after it ! " 
 exclaimed Flora scornfully, who had known 
 the Vicar from the beginning of her teens, 
 and never had the smallest fear of him, ex- 
 cept on solemn occasions. " I should have to 
 offer to run for you." 
 
 " I should rise from the deadest of faints to 
 
288 NO COMPROMISE 
 
 prevent you," he rejoined quickly, for he set 
 his face resolutely against all those innova- 
 tions of the present time, when* women take 
 the place of men in their games and amuse- 
 ments. 
 
 " Don't listen to her,Mr. Yivian. She will be 
 under my mother's care, who will keep her in 
 order, if any one can. Somebody shall fetch 
 you — that I can promise ; and if you dare 
 to stir," holding up her whip, and shaking it 
 in playful menace, "Dainton shall lose the 
 light of my countenance for the future." 
 
 "Hard lines for this poor town to suffer 
 for my misdemeanours, wouldn't it be ? " 
 
 " Yes, but we often suffer for other people, 
 don't we ? " 
 
 " And to the other people that is the worst 
 punishment of all," very gravely, as his 
 thoughts flew back to a period of his life 
 which seemed perfectly divorced from his 
 present. 
 
 There was a sudden silence, and then Di 
 whipped up her pony ; the two girls waved 
 
THE PARISH OF ST. MARY'S, DAINTON 289 
 
 their good-byes, the little cart rattled up the 
 narrow street, bent on some kindly errand; 
 and Cyril Vivian, putting on his hat, walked 
 off to pay his customary visit to the school, 
 which Mr. Strangways and all his crew were 
 plotting to take out of his hands. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BV BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. 
 LONDON AND EDINBURGH 
 
m