cl, 
 
 a I B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V. 
 
 .1
 
 BEATING THE AIR.
 
 — — admit me of thy crew, 
 
 To live Avith her and live with thee 
 
 In unreproved pleasures free. 
 
 MiLTOX.
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 BY 
 
 ULICK EALPH BUEKE. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1879. 
 
 [All Rights Rc-scvvcd.']
 
 LONDOX : 
 BRADBURY ACNEW & CO., PRIXTBRS, •VTIIITEFRIARS.
 
 f2 3 
 
 \ 
 
 t BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Charles Perceval was one of those 
 easy-going pio<lucts of modern civilization 
 with which Enghmd, and especially London, 
 abounds. Indeed, such a man is an essen- 
 tially English product. The second son of 
 a baronet of large landed property, he had 
 inherited a thousand a year from his mother, 
 which was quite enough to prevent Ifis ever 
 doing an}i:hing at the Bar, a protession 
 which he had embraced in early life, chiefly 
 "^ because it compelled him to do nothing, 
 - and enabled him to do anything, advantages 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 which the Bar undoubtedly possesses to an 
 eminent degree. After carrying out the first 
 part of this professional programme with 
 great completeness for some years, he grew 
 tired of a too strict adherence to the more 
 striking side of his profession, and having 
 arrived at the age of thirty-five, he turned his 
 professional attention to what may be called 
 its alternative advantages, and married. 
 
 His wife was a young lady of good family 
 and indifferent fortune, and Charles Perceval, 
 finding his income augmented by his mar- 
 riage to the extent of about two hundred 
 a-year, while his expenditure consequent 
 upon the same step was, or would be, in- 
 creased by at least five times that amount, 
 determined to avail himself still further of 
 the alternative advantages of his j)rofession. 
 His father. Sir Humphrey, who had tad 
 three pocket boroughs of his own before the 
 Eeform Bill of 1832, had just given up his 
 seat for Midshire, and his eldest son Walter
 
 BEATING THE A IB. 
 
 had been returned, mthout a contest, for 
 the paternal, not to say ancestral, seat. 
 Such a supporter ^vas valuable to any 
 government, and although young AValter 
 pished and pshawed a good deal before he 
 came to the point, having the natural re- 
 pugnance of those who have everything they 
 want themselves to ask a favour for others, 
 he was a good-hearted fellow at bottom ; he 
 spoke to the ]\Iiuister, and in due time the 
 world was informed of the fact that Charles 
 Perceval, Esq., Banister-at-Law, had been 
 appointed a Commissioner of the Inland 
 Harbour Commission ; and the younger bro- 
 ther wrote to the elder, and thanked him 
 for an addition to his income of eiofht 
 hundred a-year. In due time a son was 
 born to Charles and Alice, for that was Mrs. 
 Perceval's name, and he was christened 
 Humphrey after his grandfather. 
 
 Charles was very fond of his wife, and 
 she was equally attached to him, and they 
 
 B 2
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 botli made themselves perfectly happy in 
 London society. Neither of them cared 
 much for the country ; and beyond occa- 
 sional visits to Shipton Court, where old Sir 
 Humphrey was always ready to welcome 
 them, they rarely left town, except to take 
 a run over the Continent in Ausjust and 
 September ; when the Inland Harbour Com- 
 mission got through its work without the 
 aid of its Commissioners, and neither the 
 Commission nor the country found itself one 
 whit the worse for it. 
 
 Sir Humphrey Perceval's eldest son was a 
 bolder and more adventurous spirit than his 
 younger brother. After a dashing career at 
 Eton, and a very brief sojourn at Christ 
 Church, he had gone out to India to join a 
 crack cavahy regiment, with the view of 
 seeing the world and shooting tigers, but 
 being disappointed in both respects, he had 
 exchanged into a regiment stationed in 
 England ; and finally, seeing no chance of
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 war, and impatient of even the mild re- 
 straint of regimental life, he had sold his 
 commission and travelled in search of " big 
 game,'' and other excitements unattainable 
 at home, over North and South America, 
 Africa, and Australia. Such travels were 
 less common half-a-century ago than they 
 are now, and when young Walter definitely 
 returned to England at seven -and- thirty, his 
 unusual experience of the world made him a 
 lion, and his knowledge almost an authority. 
 For like many young Englishmen he was by 
 no means " such a fool as he looked," and 
 though his travelling companions might have 
 thought him chiefly interested in tigers 
 and crocodiles, in high mountains and 
 broad rivers, in rifles and tobacco, he had 
 remarked a great many other things in the 
 course of his travels, and had thought about 
 them, in his own way, too. 
 
 Sir Humphrey, who was then getting into 
 years, was most anxious that his eldest son
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 should stay at home. Young Walter, who, 
 without being quite aware of it, was tired of 
 his distant wanderings, informed his father 
 that he would travel no more, at least, for 
 the present — and derived great satisfaction 
 from the contemplation of himself in the 
 character of a self-denying and dutiful son. 
 
 The old baronet was delighted, and his 
 heir returned to the milder excitements of 
 English shooting and hunting, with much 
 the same pleasure that exhausted speculators 
 in doubtful mines or foreign loans are said 
 to revert to the "sweet simplicity of the 
 three-per- cents.'' 
 
 With greater difficulty Sir Humphrey 
 induced his son to go into Parliament, 
 although he told him that he need never 
 attend the House, except just to put in an 
 appearance about the time of the Derby, 
 Ascot, or any of the other great festivals. 
 But when he told him that he felt compelled 
 to give up his seat from age and increasing
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 infirmity, and that if his son did not take 
 his place there would probably be a contest 
 in the county, which would possibly lead 
 to one of the Branscombes getting into Par- 
 liament, the young man, feeling called upon 
 to show at once his patriotism and his filial 
 piety, consented; and the baronet having 
 accepted the onerous post of the Stewardship 
 of the Chiltern Hundreds, Walter Perceval, 
 Esq., represented Midshire in his stead. 
 
 A few years after his retirement. Sir 
 Humphrey died, and having been duly 
 buried in the family vault, was duly 
 mourned for, and forgotten. His eldest son 
 inherited all his property, real and personal, 
 and after having made a few of those altera- 
 tions in the house and grounds that every 
 eldest son longs to make for years before he 
 comes into possession of his ancestral acres, 
 he settled down at Ship ton Court. Two 
 years afterwards he took the hounds, got a 
 maiden aunt to do the honours of his house
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 to numerous visitors of botli sexes, attended 
 petty sessions, looked after poachers, and 
 became a very fair specimen of a straight- 
 forward, selfish, intelligent, unintellectual, 
 good-humoured, prejudiced English country 
 gentleman. 
 
 Paradoxical as it may seem, such men, 
 although the very soul of honesty, are 
 eminently deceptive. Apparently the most 
 good-natured creatures in the world, they 
 are often the most selfish. Eough in dress 
 and manners, they are in some ways much 
 more refined than t]iQ^petits mattres of London 
 or Vienna, and often as tender-hearted as a 
 young mother ; they never read and they 
 apparently never think, and yet they possess 
 a vast amount of information, and have 
 decided and frequently correct ideas upon an 
 infinite variety of questions ; while finally, 
 a certain "insular" shyness, which seems to 
 set upon them the stamp of innate modesty, 
 is really but the outward manifestation of
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 a deep-seated and, perhaps, not altogether 
 inexcusable pride. 
 
 Sh^ Walter, indeed, duly performed all the 
 duties of an English country gentleman 
 except oiie : he did not marry. He had no 
 fancy for ladies' society in general ; still less 
 for the society of any one lady in particular ; 
 and though in his wild youth he had been 
 by no means immaculate, and had often 
 followed tenderer game than elephants and 
 rhinoceroses, yet as master of Shipton Court, 
 he seemed insensible to the charms of either 
 lawful or unlawful love. To the maiden 
 aunt, indeed, he was sufficiently poUte. But 
 then he regarded her less as a lady and 
 a companion, than as a guest-receiver and 
 dinner-orderer, or a housekeeper with whom 
 he could converse without that painful sense 
 of inferiority which always oppresses a man 
 who attempts to argue with an upper female 
 servant. 
 
 He liked Mrs. Charles Perceval, who was
 
 10 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 a soft unpretentious woman, as well as any 
 one, and would urge Iter to come down and 
 stay at Shipton Court more frequently than 
 she did, and bring his little nephew with her. 
 
 In due time that young gentleman de- 
 veloped from a persecutor of nurses into a 
 persecutor of governesses, and finally was 
 translated to be himself persecuted at school. 
 Little Humphrey had no brothers and sisters, 
 and without being absolutely " spoiled," he 
 was somewhat languidly brought up at home. 
 An only son must be indulged to a greater 
 extent than is entirely good for him, but 
 Humphrey's parents were too much occupied 
 with their own affairs to take any pains to 
 injure his character or his disposition, so he 
 grew up pretty much as he would, and the 
 result was by no means unsatisfactory. 
 
 Eulers of children, like rulers of king- 
 doms, do infinitely more mischief by ill- 
 directed energy, than by any amount of 
 neglect.
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 11 
 
 The sons of clergymen are, as a rule, far 
 wilder in their youth than the children of 
 those whose duty is neither to preach nor to 
 teach. There is a quaint proverb current in 
 Spain, which says that " we are all as God 
 made us, and most of us a great deal worse;" 
 and, indeed, moral "progress" is but too 
 often in the wrong direction. It is so easy 
 to make people bad, and so difficult to make 
 them good, chiefly because no one knows 
 exactly how to set to work, and all un- 
 successful efforts in the right direction tell 
 against us, like that form of Piquet so 
 popular in French Clubs, when at the end 
 of the game, the winner adds to his own 
 score all the points that the loser has made. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Charles Perceval went abroad 
 every year, and not wishing to be encum- 
 bered with a child or a maid, certainly the 
 two greatest nuisances in continental travel- 
 ling, used to send little Humphrey down to 
 Shipton Court, for a couple of months every
 
 12 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 summer. He did not see mucli of his uncle, 
 but the maiden aunt took good care of his 
 material well-being, accompanied him to 
 church on Sunday mornings, and supple- 
 mented the eloquence of the vicar by hearing 
 him his catechism on Sunday afternoon. 
 
 As the boy grew older, he spent the 
 greater part of his time in the old-fashioned 
 library of the house, a library to which his 
 uncle had scarcely added a single volume, but 
 which was well stored with the standard 
 and popular books of former generations. 
 Here he devoured, before he could half un- 
 derstand — the works of Shakspeare, Dryden, 
 Pope, and Byron ; and made the acquaint- 
 ance of Pipes and Trulliber and Trunnion 
 and Thwackum and Square, as well as 
 of Lemuel Gulliver and Kobinson Crusoe. 
 Nor was he content with the careful reading 
 of his favourite authors, as he lay flat on the 
 old Turkey rugs with which the floor was 
 covered — his chin in his hands and his elbows
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 13 
 
 on the ground — but he dipped into almost 
 every book in the library, standing on one 
 of the steps of the mahogany ladder, or 
 perched on the topmost round, and skimming 
 a duodecimo, like a fastidious monkey feast- 
 ing at the top of some tropical fruit tree. 
 
 When he was ten years old, little Hum- 
 phrey went for a year and a half to a 
 private tutor's, to be transferred in due time 
 to one of the larger public schools. 
 
 '' What are you going to do with Hunir 
 phrey ? " Sir Walter had said to his brother 
 Charles one evening at Shipton, as tliey 
 sat somewhat silently over their wine. 
 
 " A most perplexing question, Walter. I 
 had thought of the navy, but the boy does 
 not care about going to sea. I don't want 
 him to stay much longer at Mr. Willis's. 
 My wife does not fancy his going abroad." 
 
 " But why not send him to Eton," inter- 
 rupted Sir Walter ; " you and I were there, 
 you know."
 
 14 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 " Yes," said his brother, smiling, " but I 
 don't think either of us learnt very much 
 there." 
 
 '* Oh, learning be hanged," said the 
 baronet, " a boy learns enough at Eton to 
 know how to behave lilce a gentleman 
 wherever he may find himself." 
 
 "I am afraid Humphrey will want to 
 know something more than this," said the 
 younger brother ; " however valuable an Eton 
 training may be, I am afraid I don't keep 
 quite within my income, and Humphrey will 
 be a much poorer man than I am. He must 
 do something for himself when he is grown 
 up — unless indeed," said his father, smiling, 
 " you will promise to get him some com- 
 mission ership or other." 
 
 " Certainly not," said the elder, somewhat 
 more roughly than appeared necessary, " but 
 I do not think he will have to work for 
 his living, for all that." He j)aused, as 
 though he Avould say no more, and after
 
 BEATING TEE AIR. 15 
 
 a few moments continued, " If I don't marry, 
 yon know, lie must come in for Sliipton/' 
 
 Charles started. He was, of course, the 
 heir presumptive to his brother's title and 
 property, and had frequently contemplated 
 the possibility of Sir "Walter dying un- 
 married, and of his becoming Sir Charles 
 Perceval of Shipton, but he was by nature 
 neither ambitious nor covetous ; he was very 
 happy in his own mode of life, and he would 
 much rather have had an extra thousand 
 a year than an extra ten thousand; and 
 he had never dwelt upon his '* great expec- 
 tations." But he now saw or rather perhaps 
 realized, almost for the first time, how differ- 
 ent was the position of his son with regard 
 to the future. After a moment's pause, 
 therefore, he rejoined, "Quite so, and do 
 you think that it would be as well for him 
 to go to Eton ? " 
 
 " Oh, just as you like, my dear Charles," 
 said his brother, "you must do whatever
 
 16 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 you think best. Suppose we join the 
 ladies." 
 
 No more was said, but Charles Perceval 
 talked over the conversation that night 
 with his wife, and before they dropped off 
 to sleep, they arrived at two conclusions, 
 first, that Sir Walter would never marry, 
 and secondly, that their son should go to 
 Eton. 
 
 At twelve years of age, accordingly, Hum- 
 phrey Perceval became an Eton boy, and 
 in a short time gave up reading and took 
 to cricket, and learnt to wear good clothes 
 and make bad Latin verses. If he had had 
 any airs on. going to Eton, they would no 
 doubt have been speedily knocked out of 
 him, to be replaced of course by other more 
 conventional Etonian airs; but he had none; 
 and he soon learnt to attach importance 
 to a fact, which up to that time had been 
 of the most supreme indifference to him, 
 namely, that he was virtually heir to a
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 17 
 
 baronetcy and fifteen thousand a year. 
 But he thought much more of large scores 
 and maiden overs, of the river and of 
 the playing fields ; while Shipton Court as 
 the scene of his occasional holiday visits, 
 and his first experiences in the hunting- 
 field at Christmas time and among the 
 turnips in September, was much more to 
 him than the thoughts of possessing Shipton 
 Court as his own at some indefinite and 
 imcertain time. The happiest Youth is that 
 which seeks neither to penetrate nor to 
 anticipate the future, but is content to be 
 entirely engrossed in the pleasures and the 
 duties of the present. Humphrey's was es- 
 sentially a happy life. He had brains enough 
 to get through the ordinary routine of 
 school work at Eton with a minimum of 
 trouble. He was strong and skilful enough 
 to take pleasure in all games and field 
 sports at school and in the holidays. He 
 was perfectly healthy. He was tolerably 
 
 VOL. T. O
 
 18 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 popular, and he coveted no greater popu- 
 larity than he possessed among his com- 
 panions. His parents had always treated 
 him both liberally and kindly, and were 
 getting more and more attached to him as 
 he grew older. His uncle, too, liked him. 
 He was by nature generous and affectionate, 
 hot-tempered, but large-hearted, and quite 
 intelligent enough to take an interest, as he 
 grew older, in the society he met at his 
 father's home in Queen Street, Mayfair, 
 during the Easter, and part of the Christmas 
 holidays. What that society was we have 
 now to see.
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 The 2 9 til of July was a hot clay in 
 London in the year 18 — ; and the little 
 house in Queen Street, Mayfair, was by no 
 means the coolest spot in the metropolis, 
 in spite of the drawn blinds, the closed 
 windows, and the great block of Wenham 
 Lake ice which stood perspiring in the 
 middle of Mrs. Charles Perceval's dining- 
 table. 
 
 It was a gala day in Queen Street, Mayfair. 
 First of all, it was Humphrey Perceval's six- 
 teenth birthday; secondly, he was coming 
 home from Eton on that very day ; and 
 thirdly, in honour of this double event his 
 
 c 2
 
 20 BEATING THE A IB. 
 
 mother had asked a number of her most 
 agreeable acquaintances to dinner. 
 
 Mrs. Perceval had finished luncheon some 
 time. Humphrey, like all boys of his age, 
 had been somewhat vague as to the hour at 
 which he would arrive ; and his mother, 
 after keeping luncheon waiting as long as 
 her feelings for the butler would allow her, 
 on a day when that functionary's whole mind 
 was enoTossed in the evenino^ entertain- 
 ment, had eaten a mouthful of cold lamb and 
 salad, and retired to the drawing-room to 
 fancy that every cab or carriage whose wheel 
 rolled within earshot of Queen Street, May- 
 fair, was the cab which brought her son. 
 What in the world is more weary than 
 waiting and watching for wheels? Bearers 
 of sorrow or bearers of joy, be their bur- 
 den trivial or all-important, there would 
 seem to be something peculiarly haras- 
 sing to the nervous system in the con- 
 tinued strain upon the tympanum, and the
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 21 
 
 recurrence of -unsympathizing disappoint- 
 ments. 
 
 Alice Perceval sat in her drawing-room 
 that sultry afternoon, trying to make her- 
 self believe she was reading a novel, by 
 turning over the pages which her eye, per- 
 haps, had read, but of which her mind had 
 taken no cognizance. She was a fresh-looking 
 Englishwoman of some forty summers, which 
 she bore as only an Englishwoman can, and 
 looked in her fresh cotton gown, her simple 
 head-dress, and her bright pleasant face, as 
 though she might have just come " home for 
 hoHdays" herself. An easy and a healthy 
 life, unracked by passion and almost un- 
 ruffled by care, and, above all, a pleasant 
 temper and that contented mind which is 
 not only a continual feast, but which is 
 worth all Cornaro's recipes in the art of 
 preserving health, had left Alice Perceval at 
 forty fresher in body and mind than many 
 women scarcely out of their teens.
 
 22 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 But see, she starts up — a cab has this time 
 really drawn up at the door — a cab well 
 laden with luggage within and without ; and 
 a fine, fresh-looking youth is standing on the 
 doorstep. Parkins is not long in opening the 
 door ; and in a moment Humphrey, for it is 
 he, is upstairs in the drawing-room, and in his 
 mother's arms. A very broad portmanteau, 
 sundry boxes, and a very long carpet-bag, 
 suggestive of cricket-bats and pads, are duly 
 transferred from the cab to the house ; the 
 cabman, grumbling at the extra sixpence 
 which Mr. Parkins considered sufficient, is 
 driving slowly oflf ; and the chief butler him- 
 self, liarassed only by the thought that 
 Master Humphrey may disturb his festive 
 arrangements by calling for lunch, betakes 
 himself once more to the pantry, and stimu- 
 lates John Thomas, his liveried subordinate, 
 to fresh exertion in the direction of polishing 
 salvers and brightening delicate glasses. But 
 fortunately for Mr. Parkins, and perhaps even
 
 BEATING TBE AIR. 23 
 
 more fortunately for John Thomas, Master 
 Humphrey had lunched before he left Eton. 
 It really was dinner — dinner at one o'clock ; 
 but it would not do to say so to a young 
 gentleman of fully sixteen years of age ; and 
 having no desire to hurt our hero's feelings, 
 we will call it luncheon. He refused even 
 the cup of tea which his mother pressed 
 upon him ; and although an Etonian of six- 
 teen is of course a man, and would as soon 
 admit that he was a shoeblack as a '' school- 
 boy," he delighted Mrs. Perceval and himself 
 with such a flow of schoolboy talk as only 
 an ingenuous lad on the first day of the holi- 
 days can pour into the adoring and sympa- 
 thizing ears of his mother. 
 
 As the day wore on, Charles Perceval 
 came in from his office — or from the Club, — 
 and warm as were the greetings between 
 him and his son, the truth of the old saying, 
 that '' Two is company and three is none," 
 was exemplified by the sHght change in the
 
 24 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 tone of the conversation. Most boys are 
 especially attached to their mother ; some 
 few prefer their father's company ; but none 
 are as completely at their ease in the 
 presence of both parents together as in that 
 of either separately. 
 
 "Would not you like to see your room, 
 Humphrey darling," said his mother at 
 length ; "we do not dine till eight o'clock, 
 but you might like to take off your hot 
 clothes and wash your hands." — '' And look 
 after your things,'^ added his father. 
 
 " Certainly," said the boy answering his 
 mother, and taking her arm led her ten- 
 derly up stairs to the little room so full of 
 old associations, and of new proofs of a 
 woman's forethought and of a mother's love. 
 Charles Perceval went down to his cellar 
 and gave out various kinds of wine to Mr. 
 Parkins ; and father and son did not meet 
 again till dinner-time. The drawing-room 
 window was now open, and the cool evening
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 25 
 
 air refreshed the room and brought in delicate 
 odours from the flowers which were culti- 
 vated with such care on the window-sills. 
 Cultivated is not perhaps the correct ex- 
 pression ; for the flowers were brought 
 regularly from Covent Garden, and as the 
 plants died down or went out of flower they 
 were replaced by others. There is no other 
 way of '* cultivating " flowers in a London 
 window-box. The room itself was tastefully 
 but somewhat quaintly furnished. A con- 
 ventional upholsterer and decorator would 
 have been shocked at it. There was posi- 
 tively no " drawing-room suite." There was 
 no " white and gold : " nor was there any 
 essentially drawing-room furniture in the 
 shape of gilt and mother-of-pearlecl chairs, 
 which no right-minded person would ever 
 dream of sitting down upon. There was 
 not even the pair of water-colour drawings 
 — generally sea-pieces — with very wide white 
 mounts and narrow beaded frames. In fact,
 
 23 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 an upholsterer would scarcely have called it 
 a drawing-room at all. But it was charm- 
 ingly furnished notwithstanding. 
 
 The floor was covered with Indian matting, 
 which looked and felt cool in the hot July 
 weather. The walls were, j)erhaps, a little 
 too much covered with pictures : but there 
 were no bad ones among them, and many of 
 them had stories, if not histories, which made 
 them doubly interesting for their owners. 
 The furniture had been " picked up " at 
 home or abroad, or made according to de- 
 sign brought from Nuremburg or Naples or 
 Cluny. Even the lamps reminded one of the 
 Museo Borbonico, and the table at one end 
 of the room was a fac-simile of that in Sal- 
 lust's house at Pompeii. And yet the room 
 was far from looking like an old curiosity 
 shop, or an artistic lumber-room ; in the 
 first place, the space was not overcrowded 
 with furniture ; there was room to move 
 about in, as well as chairs and tables to
 
 BEATIXG THE AIJR. 27 
 
 admire ; and a general refined taste, or com- 
 mon artistic perception, whicli bears tlie 
 same relation to all other and special artistic 
 perceptions that common sense does to all 
 the other senses, led the Percevals to know 
 how to harmonize the whole. Alphonse Karr 
 says that of all senses the rarest is common 
 sense, and the common artistic sense is at 
 least as rare. The French, who have as a 
 rule excellent decorative taste, and who are 
 aware of the rarity of this art of harmoni- 
 ously blending incongruous furniture, prefer 
 to furnish and decorate each room accord- 
 ino" to one given style, be it Louis XIV., 
 Louis XVL, or Francois L, and the result 
 is eminently satisfactory. But Englishmen, 
 who, as a general rule, have no decorative 
 taste whatsoever, refuse to be trammelled 
 by a style or a period— indeed they usually 
 know nothing about such a distinction; — 
 and generally crowd their rooms of cere- 
 mony or of state with the worst examples
 
 28 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 of the furniture and decorative art of the 
 most incongruous periods, with the addi- 
 tion of a certain amount of independent 
 vulgarity, purely and distinctively native. 
 
 But we must not leave Queen Street, 
 Mayfair, where the guests are already arriv- 
 ing. Let us make their acquaintance as 
 they enter Mrs. Perceval's drawing-room, 
 as she and her husband stand ready to 
 receive them, and where Humphrey finds 
 himself somcAvhat ill at ease, but anxious 
 to appear as if he were as much accustomed 
 to London dinner-parties as one of Gunter s 
 waiters. But he was a nice unaffected 
 boy, without conceit, and with good sense 
 enough not to try to carry ofi* his shy- 
 ness by that affectation of ease which so 
 often leads so many youths to one of the 
 most striking forms of impudence ; so he 
 held his tongue at first, and made intelligent 
 answers when he was spoken to — to the 
 delight of his j)arents and the great satisfac-
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 29 
 
 tioii of their guests. A hobble-de-hoy is 
 generally " out of place," and still more " in 
 the way " in good company. 
 
 The first arrivals were Lord and Lady 
 Blis worth. 
 
 Lord Blisworth had been in early life in 
 the Diplomatic Service, and as a younger 
 son had seen a good deal of the world as a 
 comparatively poor man. On succeeding to 
 his brother s title and estates, he had given 
 up the wandering life of a Diplomatic Secre- 
 tary, and had married a lady of good connec- 
 tion and great intelligence. Without any 
 taste for political life, and being a man 
 rather of study than of action, Lord Blisworth 
 took no part in the debates in the Upper 
 House, and in the vast vortex of London 
 society he was little known outside the circle 
 of his own immediate friends, by Avhom he 
 was equally liked and respected. At the 
 time we spsak of he was about sixty years of 
 age, tall, aid somewhat thin, with features
 
 30 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 more pleasant than striking, and a counten- 
 ance in whose gentle repose no very decided 
 intellectual power was apparent ; and it was 
 only when conversation lighted up the whole 
 face that the deep blue eyes beamed with 
 a quiet power, and led one to see that 
 Lord Blisworth was no ordinary man. His 
 A\T.fe was some ten years younger, a perfect 
 specimen of an English lady in the serenity 
 of middle age. 
 
 I do not know why the word middle-aged 
 is so offensive to the ears of our own country- 
 women. For it is the period at which an 
 Englishwoman most decidedly surpasses 
 her rivals of any other nation. At fifty, a 
 Spaniard is fat and yellow, an Italian lean 
 and bearded, a French woman faded, a 
 German hard, frowzy, and carpet slippered, 
 an American leaden and shrivelled, but at 
 fifty an Englishwoman, especially among 
 the higher ranks of society, is, like Lady 
 Blisworth, fresh in face and rounded in
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 31 
 
 figure, with a light heart and a pleasant 
 smile. 
 
 *' My son, just returned from Eton," said 
 Mrs. Perceval, looking towards Humphrey, 
 who bowed, came forward, and shook hands 
 with his mothers guests. It is somewhat 
 difficult to know exactly what to say first to 
 a boy under the circumstances : and Lord 
 Blisworth hesitated a moment, when Lady 
 Blisworth began, with a smile, " Don't you 
 find your mother looking very well ? It's 
 really very difficult to believe that you can 
 be her son ; only that you are so very like 
 her/' 
 
 These few words and the kind manner 
 which accompanied them, made Humphrey 
 feel quite at home at once ; and he felt a 
 little flattered, too, without quite knowing it, 
 inasmuch as even a son's eye could not be 
 blind to the fact that Mrs. Perceval was a 
 decidedly handsome woman. But before he 
 had time to think much about it, the butler
 
 32 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 announced Mr. and Mrs. Hozier, and a 
 young clergyman and his wife entered the 
 room and were immediately welcomed by 
 their hostess, and duly introduced to her son 
 and heir. 
 
 " How do you like Eton ? " said Mr. 
 Hozier. *' It is not so very long since I was 
 there myself. I was a Tug, you know." 
 
 Humphrey did not know, — indeed, 
 being an oppidan of the oppidans, and his 
 course of education at Eton having com- 
 prised an unlimited contempt, if not actual 
 aversion, for Tugs, he stood for a moment 
 a<^hast, wondering; what Mr. Hozier was like 
 when he was a Tua\ and if other Tu£[s would 
 grow up like ]Mr. Hozier, and generally what 
 business any Tug had to grow up and come 
 and dine in Queen Street, IMayfair. It was 
 only for a moment, however, and then he 
 recovered himself and made an appropriate 
 reply, and was much relieved by a diversion 
 made by Mrs. Hozier, who also asked him
 
 BEATIXG THE AIR, 33 
 
 in an interested voice, as if it was quite 
 an original question, " How do you like 
 Eton?" 
 
 To which Humphrey replied, as before, 
 '' Very much, thank you ; " but added with 
 great originality and tact, '* But, of course, I 
 like coming home, you know," which quite 
 satisfied !Mrs. Hozier. 
 
 More guests had now assembled, and in a 
 few minutes, they were all, to the number 
 of fourteen, seated round ^Irs. Perceval's 
 dining-table. 
 
 One London dinner is very like another, 
 save that some are better than others, and 
 ]Mrs. Perce val's was one of the ** better sort." 
 Humphrey was rather bewildered with the 
 conversation, which seemed to him to relate 
 exclusively to subjects of which he knew 
 nothing whatever. Xo one present seemed 
 to know or care anything about cricket, or 
 boating, or even about hunting or shooting, 
 but they preferred foreign policy, and even
 
 34 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 foreign literature, and talked about art, and 
 made allusions to European statesmen or 
 Italian virtuosi of whom Humphrey had 
 never heard ; and to crown all, Lord Ells- 
 worth told two or three French stories 
 which convulsed everybody with laughter, 
 but of which Humphrey did not understand 
 one syllable. Lady Blisworth talked very 
 pleasantly to him after dinner, and so did 
 Mrs. Shirley, an old widow lady wlio lived 
 in Curzon Street, and who gave very agreea- 
 ble little dinners herself, and was altogether 
 a kind and sympathetic neighbour. But a 
 discussion as to the relative merits of the 
 *•' Paradise Lost" and the " Divina Corn- 
 media," which began between ]\Ir. Hozier 
 and a Lady Adare, who was a great admirer 
 of Dante, becoming general, Plumphrey again 
 found himself on the outside. He had 
 never read the " Paradise Lost " in the library 
 at Shipton ; he had no notion as to who 
 wrote the "Divina Commedia," and he re-
 
 BEATING THE AIR 35 
 
 lapsed into more congenial meditation as 
 to how soon he was to go down to Shipton ; 
 and whether he would have miicli cricket 
 there, whether it would be too late for fish- 
 ing in the river ; how that young horse 
 which Sir Walter had said he might always 
 ride was getting on, and generally how he 
 would pass the time till the first of Sep- 
 tember, when he Lad been promised a few 
 days' shooting, and the eighteenth of Se})- 
 tember when he would have to go back to 
 School. IMeanwhile, ^h\ Hozier was main- 
 taining how infinitely superior to anything 
 in the Italian poem was Milton's description 
 of Satan, who — 
 
 ** In shape and gesture proudly eminent, 
 Stood like a tower ; his form had not yet Ij.^t 
 All its original hrightiuss, nor appeared 
 Less than archangel ruined and the excess 
 Of glory olscured.'' 
 
 And Lady Adare was comparing the pure 
 and ethereal spirits with which Dante has 
 peopled his Paradise with the gross and 
 
 D 2
 
 36 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 material beings whom Milton has represented 
 as waging earthly war in heaven. 
 
 "After all/' said Lord Ellsworth, ^'per- 
 haps the greatest defect of ' Paradise Lost ' 
 is that Satan is the hero.'' 
 
 " Li which," interrupted Mr. Hozier, 
 "the poem is only too true to nature and 
 the Avorld, wliether before or after the Flood." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said ]\Trs. Shirley, "you 
 positively remind me of ]\Ir. Glowry in 
 Peacock's novel — ' Gryll Grange,' is it not, 
 Mr. Lech mere ? " 
 
 " I think," said the gentleman addressed, 
 " the character you refer to, who is always 
 exclaiming ' The devil is come among us 
 having great wrath,' is in * Headlong Hall.' 
 How clever all those little novels of Pea- 
 cock's are. No one writes anything in the 
 shape of a novel in less than three volumes 
 now-a-days, and yet there is more in one 
 of Peacock's chapters than in half-a-dozen of 
 most modern volumes. But even as far as
 
 BEATING THE AIR, 
 
 the form is concerned we have nothing like 
 him. His works remind one rather of the 
 Romans et Contes of Voltaire and Diderot 
 — ' Candide/ or ' Zadig,' or * L'Homme aux 
 Quarante Ecus/ than of anything in modern 
 English that I can call to mind.'' 
 
 ''True/' said Lord Ellsworth, "but there 
 is but one Voltau*e, and there can be but 
 one ' Candide.' And yet I do not think 
 any of us half knoAV or lialf appreciate 
 Voltaire. He wrote the best tragedy and 
 the only readable epic in the French lan- 
 guage ; he wrote the best tale and perhaps 
 the best mock heroic poem in any language. 
 His historical studies were marvellous, not 
 only for their variety and comprehensive- 
 ness, and for the vast amount of research 
 that they show, composed as they were 
 at a time when there were no accessible 
 works on history to be consulted, but for 
 the philosophical mode of treating the 
 subject itself."
 
 38 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Hozier, ''lie is nn- 
 doubtedly one of the first of scientific his- 
 torians ; those who preceded him should 
 rather be called chroniclers/' 
 
 " He may be scientific/' said Lady Blis- 
 worth, ''but he never lets his science peep 
 out. What very charming reading all his 
 history is/' 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Mr. Perceval. " His 
 infidelity apart, I think he is not only the 
 greatest writer that France has produced, 
 but one of the greatest writers that the 
 world has ever known. And as to his inji- 
 delity we must remember, first of all, what 
 was the fidelity of the age and the countr}^ 
 in which he wrote — when relioion was re- 
 presented by the Ahhe Desfontaines, and 
 upheld by the Eegent d' Orleans, and when 
 the few respectable men in France who be- 
 lieved in anything higher than their pockets 
 and their bellies, were abusing one another 
 like fishwomen, and indignant only that
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 39 
 
 tliey were not allowed to burn one another 
 alive. Eeligion meant tlie revocation of 
 the Edict of Nantes, and the adulation of 
 Madame de Pompadour and Madame du 
 Barry, unlimited Lettres de Cachet, and a 
 vague longing for another St. Bartholomew. 
 It meant a miserable and ground-down 
 people, an untaxed and dissolute clergy ; it 
 meant persecution, and oppression, and fraud, 
 and debauchery, and ignorance, and shame ; 
 and it is because it meant all this that the 
 French Eevolution was what it was." 
 
 " It is but too true," said Mr. Hozier ; 
 *•' and Voltaire, like other peoj^le, bears the 
 blame of a great deal for which he is in no 
 way answerable. Very few English j)eople, 
 as Lord Blisworth says, know anything 
 whatever of either the life or the works of 
 the great French wit and philosopher, and 
 this is all the more inexcusable, as he lived 
 for some time in England, and was con- 
 tinually speaking in terms of great admiration
 
 40 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 of our country and its institutions in liis 
 works, while the 'Henriade' was actually 
 published in London, with an English dedi- 
 cation to an English Queen ! " 
 
 "And yet," said Lady Blisworth, "everyone 
 thinks they have a right to talk of Voltaire, 
 and to abuse his life, his principles, and all 
 his writings en masse, as if they were 
 intimately acquainted with the ninety or 
 a hundred volumes in which his collected 
 works are published/' 
 
 "They probably talk with more confi- 
 dence," said Mr. Perceval dryly, "than if 
 they were." 
 
 There was a slight pause. 
 
 '^ Apropos of what you were saying of 
 the form of Peacock's and Voltaire's novels," 
 said Mr. Tench, a literary man by profession, 
 with a bald head and a somewhat untidy 
 beard, "it is a mere question of advertising." 
 
 " Of advertising — how ? *' said Mr. Per- 
 ceval.
 
 BEATING THE AIR 41 
 
 " Why, every novel published now-a-days 
 must be in three volumes, or it will not pay 
 its expenses. Half-a-guinea a volume is the 
 established price ; and nothing less than a 
 guinea and a half will pay for the amount 
 of advertising which is now requisite to make 
 every novel a success. I have known a 
 publisher refuse a novel written to appear 
 in two volumes; and the author had to 
 take it back and ' pad it out ' to the extent 
 of another volume ! AVhat should you have 
 thought of its form after this operation ? " 
 
 The conversation now turned upon adver- 
 tising, its advantages and disadvantages, a 
 subject which, like the advertisements them- 
 selves, introduced a great variety of subjects, 
 and it was midnight before the party broke 
 up.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 In a sordid-lookiuo- room in Norfolk 
 Street, Strand, two youths were sitting at 
 a table covered with the remains of an un- 
 comfortable breakfast. It was near eleven 
 o'clock on a Sunday morning in the month 
 of May, and the glorious old bells of St. 
 Clement Danes were rin^iniic out their stir- 
 ring invitation to church, blended wnth tlic 
 fainter accompaniment of the chimes of St. 
 Dunstan's and the Temple on the one side, 
 and St. Mary -le -Strand on the other, a 
 harmonious, an inspiriting Babel of bells. 
 At length the deep tones of Big Ben were 
 borne down the river on the westerly
 
 BEATI]:^G THE AIR. 43 
 
 breeze, and in a moment, as if by encliant- 
 ment, all was still,— still with the stillness of 
 eastern London on a Sunday morning. The 
 window of the room we have described was 
 partly open, but the occupants took no note 
 of these things, but divided their attention 
 between some uninviting looking tea and 
 some equally uninviting looking books. 
 Books of a similar appearance were littered 
 all over the room ; indeed, with the excep- 
 tion of the crazy furniture, some empty 
 and half-empty bottles, and the half-eaten 
 victuals with which the table was covered, 
 there seemed to be nothing else in the room 
 but books and dirt. And this even to the 
 liuman occupants ; for physically, they might 
 have been said to represent Dirt : morally, 
 they represented Books. 
 
 "Towser," said one of the young men to 
 the other, with a weary yawn, ''I feel 
 devilish coppery this morning." 
 
 The speaker, whose name was Lippincot,
 
 44 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 certainly did not look particularly fresh, but 
 lie was at least equalled in seediness of appear- 
 ance by his friend Mr. Towser. That gentle- 
 man was dressed in a short and rather 
 greasy blue coat, with somewhat loud tweed 
 "continuations," carpet slippers on his feet, 
 and a short pipe in his mouth. His sallow 
 face, unbrushed and wiry black hair, and 
 obtrusively unwashed fingers, seemed merely 
 characteristic of the room ; but he had a look 
 of intellectual power in the forehead, and 
 decision in the lower part of the face, which 
 were only spoiled by the close proximity of 
 his piercing black eyes, and the cynical ex- 
 pression of the hawk-like nose wliich sepa- 
 rated them. His companion was equally 
 dirty and equally sallow, but his counte- 
 nance betokened at once a less powerful 
 intellect, and a more amiable disposition. 
 
 " Coppery ! " said Mr. Towser, in rej)ly 
 to his friend's complaint, '' I should rather 
 think so ; why you Avere as drunk as David's
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 45 
 
 SOW last night, and — but I wonder/' he said, 
 thoughtfully interrupting himself, "why 'as 
 drunk as David's sow 1 ' It might be asked, 
 you know. I wonder if David himself used 
 to get drunk, and the fiiiling is euphemisti- 
 cally attributed to the unclean beast." 
 
 "I don t think so," said Lippincot. '*'Noali 
 got drunk, you know, but I think David 
 was more given to other vices." 
 
 " Perhaps he went in for wine as well," 
 said Towser, with a hideous laugh, " but I 
 must take a note of this expression, and try 
 and find out its origin. Less likely things 
 have been asked." 
 
 " You know the orimn of the siorn of 
 
 o o 
 
 'The Goat and Compasses?'" said Lippincot. 
 " Oh, of course I do," said his companion 
 hastily; "but now that we have done our 
 breakfast, just run me through that new 
 epitome of English history. I marked it care- 
 fully on Friday, and old Schlesser will work 
 us up in the subject to-morrow morning."
 
 46 BEATING THE A IB. 
 
 Lippincot took up the book referred to, 
 wliicli was entitled ''The Civil Service 
 Epitome of English History/' by the author 
 of "The Civil Service Shakspeare," "Ten 
 Thousand Facts for Candidates for Competi- 
 tive Examination," etc., etc., etc. This 
 work contained all the " leading facts " in 
 the history of our country, within the com- 
 pass of a hundred small octavo pages ; and 
 lest the student in his consumplion of this 
 literary pemmican should confuse battles 
 w^ith treaties, or the names of books with 
 the names of cities, tlie art of the typogra- 
 pher had been called into play, and every 
 page in tliis interesting work looked like an 
 article in a modern cyclopsedia under the 
 title, "Type (varieties of)," and indeed it 
 was just about as interesting to read. The 
 author had made his mark by the publica- 
 tion of "The Civil Service Shakspeare," an 
 edition of the pcet's works containing only 
 such passages as had ever been set, or were
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 47 
 
 likely to be set to candidates at competitive 
 examinations. Words v/liosc meaninos or 
 derivations might l)e asked were also printed 
 in italics ; oft-quoted lines in small capitals, 
 ^vhile a neat paraphrase (in the author's 
 own modern Civil Service style) was ap- 
 pended, of such obscure passages as those 
 commencing, 
 
 "To 1 e or not to Le;" 
 * -^ *■ * if * 
 
 or, 
 
 " Now is tlic winter of our discontent 
 Made glorious summer by . . ." 
 *•}<•■«. ^ ^ ^ 
 
 or, 
 
 " He jests at scars that never felt a wound." 
 * * * * 
 
 "What w\as the date of the battle of 
 Tinchebray ? '' said Lippincot, referring to 
 the book in his hand. 
 
 "And Brenneville,'' suggested Towser, 
 " they're always put together, 1106.'' 
 
 "Eight," said his interrogator, "but I 
 wonder why they are always put together."
 
 48 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 *' Oh hang it ! don't go on asking why," 
 said Towser hastily, " how the deuce do 
 you suppose we could ever get through 
 our work if we kept asking why ? No- 
 thing makes old Schlesser so angry. Go 
 on." 
 
 Lippincot turned from the beginning to 
 the middle of the book. " Who was Zimri, 
 in ' Absalom and Achitophel ' V 
 
 "Duke of Buckingham," rejoined Towser. 
 
 *' Eight again ! " said the other. "Now I 
 wonder if he was any relation of the present 
 duke 1 " 
 
 " Oh ! d the present duke," cried 
 
 Towser. " They'll never ask any questions 
 about the present duke, if there is such a 
 person. Fm sure I don't know and don't 
 care. But do ask more sensible questions. 
 Let me say over to you the dates of all the 
 battles in the Wars of the Eoses, or how 
 many of Edward III.'s descendants were 
 beheaded."
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 49 
 
 '*A11 right," said Lippincot, turning to 
 the page ; " try the battles. " 
 
 So Towser began. But he had not got 
 any further than the first battle of St. 
 Albans, when their studies were interrupted 
 by a loud knock at the door ; and in answer 
 to the invitation, conveyed in no gracious 
 voice, to '• Come in," a somewhat showily 
 dressed middle-aged woman entered the 
 
 room. 
 
 To understand who she was, we must 
 retrace our steps for some years in this 
 fiiithful history. Sir Humphrey Percevals 
 butler at Shipton Court, who bore the some- 
 what aggressive name of Towser, since he 
 had abandoned that of James, together with 
 liis footman's coatee (l)ut who was really 
 as mild an individual as a butler in a great 
 house could be), had a l)rother. This brother, 
 William Towser, kept a bacon and butter 
 shop in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor 
 Square, from which, by happy coincidence,
 
 50 BEATING THE A IB. 
 
 Sir Humplirey's establishment in town was 
 regularly supplied. 
 
 William Towser, who always had a good 
 eye to connection, had married a housekeeper 
 in one of the great houses in the Square, and 
 the fruit of this union, in addition to in- 
 creased orders, had been two daughters and 
 one son. Shortly before the birth of their 
 third child, Mrs. Towser, unwarily crossing 
 Oxford Street, would have infallibly been 
 knocked down and run over by a dashiiig 
 hansom cab, had not a tall gentleman 
 perceived her danger, and rushing forward, 
 dragged her, with rapid presence of mind, 
 out of harm's way. The fright proved too 
 much for her nerves, and Sir Humphrey 
 Perceval, who was the tall gentleman, con- 
 veying her home in a four-wheeler, was 
 struck with the familiar name over the door 
 of her shop, and upon making further in- 
 quiries, discovered that the lady he had so 
 gallantly rescued was the wife of one of the
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 51 
 
 family tradesmen, and the sister-in-law of 
 the family butler. Hence a certain addi- 
 tional interest in Mrs. William Towser, and 
 hence, on the happy birth, a few days after- 
 wards, of a son and heir to the bacon and 
 butter merchant, Sir Humphrey consented to 
 stand god-fither to the infant in whose 
 existence he felt he almost had some concern, 
 and who duly received in baptism the family 
 name of his deliverer. 
 
 Perceval Towser grew and throve, and was 
 from time to time shown to his god-father by 
 his ingenuous parents ; and Sir Humphrey, 
 who was a very kind-hearted man, took an 
 interest in the child. When this son was 
 about ten years old, William Towser died 
 somewhat suddenly, having over speculated 
 in rum and other strong waters, which were 
 entirely consumed on the premises; and 
 the business, in spite of so many good con- 
 nections, being found in a state of hopeless 
 embarrassment, Mrs. Towser determined to 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF HJJNOIS
 
 62 BEATING THE A IB. 
 
 enjoy a comfortable home in some gentleman's 
 house, and sought a situation as a house- 
 keeper. Sir Humphrey, being informed of 
 the catastrophe, which he had this time 
 been unable to avert, though he had had 
 more share in bringing it about than he was 
 perhaps aware of, offered to pay for his god- 
 son's schooling ; and young Towser, being 
 a very sharp boy, so pleased Sir AValter, 
 who continued his protection after the old 
 baronet's death, that when the lad had 
 reached the age of seventeen, his new patron 
 had not only acceded to his request to be 
 -allowed to leave school and "grind*' for a 
 year in London preparatory to going up for 
 examination for the Indian Civil Service, 
 but had made him a liberal allowance, to 
 enable him to prosecute his studies with 
 every advantage. 
 
 It was just a year since Perceval Towser 
 had taken up his abode at Norfolk Street, 
 Strand, in company with a chum of the
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 63 
 
 name of LippiDcot ; and on the Sunday 
 morning in jMay on which we have been in- 
 troduced to them, it wanted but a few days 
 to the all-important examination for which 
 they have both been preparing themselves. 
 
 When, therefore, Mr. Towser said " Come 
 in," and the door opened, it was his mother 
 w^ho stood before him. 
 
 *' Shall I hook it ? " said Lippincot, seeing 
 the intruder embrace ^Ir. Towser in some- 
 what demonstrative fashion, and proceed to 
 clear a chair of books previous to seating 
 herself thereupon. 
 
 " No, never mind," said the other ; and 
 then turning to his mother, ** What do you 
 want ? '' 
 
 *' Want ! " said she, " why to see how 
 you are getting on. How are you getting 
 on with your books, Percy ? " 
 
 " Oh, well enough : I should get on better 
 at present if you would not come here inter- 
 rupting me."
 
 64 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 " Well, you know you never come and see 
 mc ; though, indeed, 1 would not ask nor 
 wish it," said the old woman, '' that my son 
 and Sir Humphrey Perceval's godson, and 
 such a scholar too, should come into the 
 house-keeper's room ; though indeed it's a 
 good deal smarter a room than this,'' said 
 she, looking round the comfortless apart- 
 ment. 
 
 '* Oh, never mind, it suits me well enough," 
 said her son. 
 
 " Have you heard from Sir AYalter lately," 
 said Mrs. Towser after a pause. 
 
 " Yes,'* said the young man, '' I have. 
 Yesterday he sent me a cheque for five and 
 twenty pounds. He might as well have 
 made it fifty. It would have been all one 
 to him. He wouldn't have felt the dif- 
 ference." 
 
 " Well, well, I daresay as how he 
 wouldn't," said Mrs. Towser, " but I do 
 think he has behaved very handsome towards
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 55 
 
 you'' Here she was cut short by the re- 
 cipient of Sir Walter s bounty, who informed 
 her that he was too busy to listen to such 
 trivial and inappropriate remarks ; and after 
 a brief further conversation, the housekeeper 
 retired from her son's apartment and, as- 
 sisted by an omnibus which she hailed in the 
 Strand, found herself at No. 35, Grosvenor 
 Square — she being then up in town for 
 the season — in time for a remarkably good 
 dinner, with which she consoled herself for 
 the want of affection displayed by her only 
 son, and in due time went to sleep on the 
 sofa in the housekeeper's room, as befitted 
 the day, the time, and her own position. 
 
 A week afterwards Towser and Lippincot 
 were " in for examination." Six weeks after 
 that the list was out. The seventeenth 
 name was that of Perceval Towser. But 
 the name of Lippincot was nowhere to be 
 found. 
 
 " Confound the fellow," said Towser
 
 56 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 when he read the list and perceived, not 
 without some satisfaction, that his com- 
 panion's name was not included, " I'm not 
 at all surprised, he was always asking 
 MVhy?'and'Howr
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 When Mr. and Mrs. Perceval went to bed 
 on the night of their son's return from Eton, 
 although the hour was somewhat later than 
 usual, they neither of them felt inclined to 
 sleep ; and after a few trivial remarks about 
 the guests of the evening, Mrs. Perceval 
 began, *' Charles, don't you think Humphrey 
 is growing up a fine fellow ? " 
 
 ** Just what I was thinking, Alice." 
 
 " Don't you think we ought to see some- 
 thing more of him now that he is growing 
 older — have him more with us." 
 
 "Do you think so?" 
 
 ** I do. He is as simple as a child as yet,
 
 58 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 I can see ; but lie is getting too old for such 
 a condition. A man cannot think of nothing 
 but cricket and shooting and riding." 
 
 " A great many do," said her husband, 
 with a smile ; " but, of course, we have 
 no wish that Humphrey should be a 
 fellow of that sort. But what can we do ? 
 He learns nothing at Eton, of course, and 
 at Shij^ton " 
 
 "There it is," said Mrs. Perceval; "at 
 Shipton he will not make up for the short- 
 coming of his school education ; they are 
 too much alike ; no, he must see something 
 of people who think about and enjoy things 
 beyond cricket-bats and pointers, thorough- 
 bred mares and bow oars, or he will never 
 learn to think about them, much less to 
 enjoy them himself. 
 
 " How wise we are getting, my darling," 
 said her husband. " But I dare say you are 
 right : he must see a little more of us, eh ? " 
 
 " So long as we don't frighten him, I
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 59 
 
 think that is exactly what would be best for 
 him." 
 
 " Frighten him I I am not in the habit 
 of considering myself very alarming," said 
 Charles Perceval, who, indeed, was one of 
 the mildest of men. 
 
 " Oh, but indeed I think you might be 
 very alarming to Humphrey, if you do not 
 take care. Eemember how much you know, 
 and what a matter of course you think it, 
 and how little he knows, and how much less 
 he has thought. I watched his face when you 
 were talking to Lord Blisworth to-night, and 
 he looked quite bewildered. And, you see, 
 he really knows very little of us." 
 
 " Quite true ; but I think we did better in 
 sending him to run about and get fine air 
 and exercise at Shipton, rather than cooping 
 him up in London during his holidays, or 
 dragging him with us over Europe." 
 
 "It is certainly very difficult for people 
 who have only a town-house to know what
 
 60 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 to do with boys in their holidays," said 
 Mrs. Perceval ; " and I hope we did the best 
 thing we could for Humphrey; but now 
 that he is getting older, I think he should 
 learn to know, and I hope to like, his 
 parents." 
 
 " Yes," said her husband, " he will get air 
 and exercise enough at Eton, and perhaps 
 he may learn something if he spends his 
 holidays with us, but I am afraid he will 
 miss Shipton." 
 
 '*We must go down there with him for 
 part of the time, and do our best to make 
 the rest of his holidays as pleasant to him 
 as possible. We must take him abroad 
 with us." 
 
 "I am afraid he can speak no language 
 but his own," said Mr. Perceval, somewhat 
 ruefully. 
 
 " Oh, he will soon pick one up — especially 
 if we do not bother him to learn it. Let 
 us travel in only one country, say France,
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 61 
 
 or France and Belgium, and he will soon 
 know a little Frencli. But what I think 
 much more of than any language is, that he 
 will probably learn to think ; and above all, 
 he will acquire his first impressions aboufc 
 foreign life and foreign travel from you, 
 which cannot fail to do him good." 
 
 "Indeed, as far as that is concerned," 
 replied her husband, " I think travelling 
 abroad with the ordinary English notions 
 as to tilings foreign and things English, 
 which are a compound of the extreme of 
 ignorance about the former with the extreme 
 of conceit about the latter, intensified by a 
 sort of vulgar self-consciousness which is only 
 visible in the travelling Englishman, is cal- 
 culated to do infinitely more harm than 
 good to any young man ; and yet nothing 
 ought at the same time to cultivate and to 
 enlarge the mind so much as travelling, that 
 is, perhaps, in civilized countries." 
 
 ** So you think he may come with us,'*
 
 62 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 said Mrs. Perceval, somewhat abruptly in- 
 terrupting lier husbands generalization. 
 
 *' Certainly. We will all start for Paris 
 as soon as you like. It will be very hot ; 
 but it's hot enough here, and we can go 
 on into Auvergne if you wish." 
 
 *' You are the best of men," said his wife, 
 fondly ; and after a little more conversation, 
 in which the details of the plan so happily 
 agreed upon were discussed with equal 
 satisfaction, the father and mother dropped 
 off to sleep in the sweet satisfaction of a 
 new and a worthy interest. 
 
 Mrs. Perceval had seen but little of 
 her son since he first went to school six 
 years ago. As a kind and affectionate 
 mother she had regretted it, but it seemed 
 obviously more for her son's advantage, as 
 well as for his happiness, that he should 
 spend his holidays with his uncle in the 
 country; and Mrs. Perceval had only thrown 
 herself the more into her husband's life, and
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 63 
 
 found at once her duty and her pleasure in 
 sharing his interests and partaking of his 
 pleasures, and making both his life and her 
 own, happy with her sweet sympathy. 
 
 Mr. Perceval, too, had seen but little of 
 his son, and had thought much less about 
 him than his wife. The duties of his office 
 and his more onerous social and literary 
 occupations, gave him little time to think of 
 his young bowler and batter in the playing 
 fields at Eton, and he contented himself 
 with making him a liberal allowance of 
 pocket money, and always hearing with 
 interest of his welfare. 
 
 The time had now come when more was 
 required of both parents. The mother had 
 been the first to perceive this, and to com- 
 municate her discovery to her husband. He 
 on his part had fallen in with her views, and 
 was prepared to act upon the suggestions, 
 which his head if not yet his heart told him 
 were right.
 
 64 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 " Humphrey, my boy/' said his father at 
 breakfast next morning, *^how should you 
 like to come abroad with us this summer, 
 instead of spending the whole of your vaca- 
 tion at Shipton ? " 
 
 Humphrey looked rather astonished, turned 
 to his mother, and seeing in her face a look 
 of great interest, checked himself in the 
 disappointment he was about to express at 
 such a project, and said gently — 
 
 "Oh, I don't know— I shouldn't like to 
 give up going to Shipton altogether ; and 
 
 then Uncle Walter, you know" And 
 
 he paused, not knowing quite how to 
 go on. 
 
 "My dear boy," said his mother, coming 
 to the rescue, " your father and I have been 
 thinking that you are growing up without 
 living quite ns much with us as is right : 
 that is, we shall all be happier for being 
 more together, and knowuig more of one 
 another. As long as you were a child it
 
 BEATING THE AIB, 65 
 
 was nothing, but now that you are almost a 
 man, we cannot aflford to lose any more time. 
 Besides, you will see a great many things 
 abroad of which you know nothing now, 
 and that you will like very much." There 
 was something at once deeper and tenderer 
 in Mrs. Perce vaFs voice than in the words 
 she uttered, and Humphrey was struck 
 by it. 
 
 **0h, my dearest mother/' said he, *'it 
 will be very jolly to be with you wherever 
 you are, but won't you come down to 
 Ship ton with me too ? " 
 
 "Certainly, we will come back before the 
 1st of September, so you shall not lose your 
 partridge shooting. I know you are looking 
 forward to that. So you had better run 
 down to Ship ton at once for a day or two, 
 and see Uncle Walter, and settle everything 
 with him ; and we will all start for Paris on 
 Monday next, and all go together to Shipton 
 on the 29th of August.'' 
 
 YOL. I. F
 
 66 BEATING THE AIE. 
 
 '' Capital/' said Humphrey, his fresh young 
 sympathies carried away by the interest his 
 mother showed in the plan. " Well, I 
 wonder what I shall think of the French- 
 men ? — I suppose I shan't have to talk 
 French. I don't know a word." 
 
 '* Oil, well, we shall see about that," said 
 his father, " you must really make up your 
 mind to enjoy yourself as much as you. can, 
 and you need learn nothing you don't like. 
 It would be very hard to have to learn 
 anything in the holidays ! wouldn't it, 
 Humphrey ? Though indeed considering 
 the amount you learn in school, you might 
 like to play at learning something, just for a 
 change ! " 
 
 "Well," said Humphrey, "it's all very 
 well to say we learn nothing at Eton, and 
 indeed I don't think we do learn much, but 
 we take a vast amount of time and trouble 
 about it ! " 
 
 And so it came to pass that when
 
 BEATiya THE AIR. 67 
 
 Humphrey went, back to Eton two months 
 after this conversation, he had not only 
 enjoyed his partridge shooting at Shipton, 
 and his father and mother's company 
 abroad, but he had made some progress 
 — without any difficulty — in French, and 
 acquired an immense number of ideas on a 
 variety of subjects, which had never hitherto 
 had a place in either his school or holiday 
 philosophy. His mind had begun to open. 
 Happy those whose intellectual buds are 
 opened by the sunshine of a mother's love, 
 and nourished by the kindly rain of a 
 father's sympathy. No age is more in- 
 teresting, none perhaps is more dangerous, 
 than that, when the seductive apples of the 
 tree of knowledge of good and evil are first 
 displayed to our sight. Happy is the man 
 who is guided and influenced at the critical 
 time of his youth, by a clever and sympa- 
 thetic luoonan, be she mother or sister or 
 friend, who reverses the old history of the 
 
 F 2
 
 68 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 garden of Eden, and takes away mans 
 inclination for the fruit tliat poisons and 
 destroys, by the constant presentation of the 
 rosy and golden apples of refined occu- 
 pations, of ennobling pleasures, and of 
 innocent love.
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 In the comfortable library of a comfort- 
 able old red-brick manor-house in one of the 
 Midland counties, sat a father and daughter. 
 The former looked aged and careworn, the 
 latter was young, and more than commonly 
 beautiful. Her height did not greatly exceed 
 that of the Venus de Medici, and her form was 
 almost as perfect. Her small and exquisitely 
 shaped head was adorned with a profusion 
 of dark brown tresses, which shaded her soft 
 and regular features, and gave additional, 
 and, as it were, sympathetic intensity to her 
 dark brown eyes. She was simply dressed 
 in a close-fitting grey gown, which set off
 
 •70 BEATING THE JIB. 
 
 her maiden figure to the best advantage, 
 while a bow or two of cherry-coloured 
 ribbon introduced here and there, as if by- 
 accident, but knowingly enough, and with 
 almost a Frenchwoman's appreciation of 
 effective simplicity, lighted up the whole. 
 
 Sybil Main waring was just nineteen, and 
 looked, perhaps, a year or two older; and her 
 father, who sat opposite to her, though he 
 had but just completed his tenth lustre, might 
 have passed for one who had almost reached 
 his threescore years and ten. His wife had 
 died in giving birth to little Sybil, having 
 previously presented him with two boys, 
 Thomas and Harold, and he had found the 
 bringing-up of his young family by no means 
 an easy task. Of ancient lineage, with a rent 
 roll of between two and three thousand a year, 
 he had never cared for what is called Society, 
 nor even for the ordinary amusements of 
 an English country gentleman ; and he had 
 rather cherished his grief at his wife's loss,
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 71 
 
 and accepted the task of bringing up her 
 children as a sad duty connected with her 
 untimely death. He was not a man of any 
 strength of character ; he was not what is 
 called " a man of the world ; " and he wore 
 himself away in the contemplation of the 
 joylessness of his life, which he took such ex- 
 ceeding pains to make as joyless as possible. 
 His wife had been a woman of a very diffe- 
 rent stamp ; and her greater decision and 
 cheerfulness of character survived her in her 
 daughter, who did as much to enliven the 
 dull home as her little cherry-coloured bows 
 did to light up her grey dress. But of 
 course her influence could not be felt until 
 many years after her mother's death, and by 
 that time her father had got beyond the 
 power of medicine to " minister to his mind 
 diseased," even of that aitrum 2^otabile, that 
 pearl of medicaments, the influence of a bright 
 and loving woman. She had done her best 
 to make home happy for her brothers, but
 
 BEATING THE A IB. 
 
 they were botli older than she was, and the 
 elder bullied and teased her cruelly as a 
 child, partly as a relief from the oppres- 
 sive dulness of home, and partly because he 
 had a naturally bad heart, and amused him- 
 self as a bully until he was old enough to be 
 a blackguard. Her second brother often 
 took her part, with the result of getting 
 thrashed himself, and increasing his sister's 
 punishment when he was Jiors de combat; 
 and in course of time, Harold, like many 
 modern statesmen, who think themselves 
 neither cowardly nor selfish, decided that 
 the attitude most in accordance with his ovra 
 " interests " was that of absolute non-inter- 
 vention ; so when he saw little Sybil with 
 her long hair tied to the handle of the 
 dining-room door previous to the sudden 
 entrance of the butler with the luncheon, 
 while Thomas sat on the sideboard swino^insf 
 his legs and eating lump-sugar in anticipa- 
 tion of the catastrophe, Harold acted up to
 
 BEATING THE A IB. 73 
 
 his principles like a mod em politician, and 
 passed Ly on the other side like an ancient 
 Levite. In course of time, Thomas, having 
 been expelled from school, was sent at rather 
 an early age into the anny, and after some 
 two or three years' service, during which he 
 had got into one or two *' scrapes," and had 
 liad his debts once paid by his father, who 
 had to raise money on the estate for that 
 purpose, he became involved in a " l)ill " 
 transaction which brought his military career 
 to a sudden and untimely end. What this 
 "transaction" exactly was, was never very 
 clearly explained ; but a brother officer find- 
 iim his name attached to certain valuable 
 
 o 
 
 securities, under circumstances that made 
 it clear that the signature had been written, 
 not by himself, but by Cornet Thomas 
 Mainwaring, called upon that young officer 
 in company with a regimental friend, and 
 having premised that he did not wish to 
 send him into penal servitude, on account of
 
 74 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 scandal to the regiment, and for the honour 
 of the service at large, dictated to him the 
 following conditions : 
 
 1. He must send in his papers that day. 
 
 2. He must not go out of barracks until 
 he had paid the amount of the bills in ques- 
 tion, and all his regimental debts. 
 
 3. He must then leave England, and never 
 come back, on pain of instant exposure. 
 
 Ho had no choice but to agi'cc. His 
 father was sent for ; the entail was cut oft', 
 and the necessary funds raised for paying 
 everything ; and Thomas Mainwaring, Es- 
 quire, left Liverpool for New York, travel- 
 ling under the name of Cliarles Cliftbrd, 
 with " tlie world all before him where to 
 choose his place of rest," outside that Eden 
 whence he, like our first parents, had been 
 ignominiously driven. And as in the case of 
 the primary Fall of Mao, his sins were 
 visited upon other heads besides his own. 
 His father was heartbroken : his sister felt
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 it in lier quiet way almost as deeply. His 
 brother, who had been just gazetted into a 
 regiment quartered in India, took it more 
 philosophically, and chiefly regretted that 
 his allowance of £200 a year was diminished 
 to £100, because his brother, who had 
 enjoyed an allowance of £600 a year, had 
 run through something over £10,000 in 
 thii'ty months ! But then he was an eldest 
 son ; and everyone knows that if eldest sons 
 are foolish or wicked, it is the younger 
 children that must suffer. 
 
 And now, as Mr. ^lainwarino: and his 
 daughter are sitting together in the old oak- 
 panelled library at Silvermere, the eldest 
 son of the house has been two years in 
 America, drawing from time to time upon 
 his father for large sums of money, to be 
 spent in riot or lost at play. 
 
 " I think the American mail is due here 
 to-day," said Sybil. 
 
 As she spoke, the tramp of the letter-
 
 BEATING TEE AIB. 
 
 carrier was heard upon the gravel sweep, 
 and a moment later the servant handed the 
 morning's letters to Mr. Mainwaring. 
 
 " Yes, there is a letter from America," 
 said Mr. Mainwaring, dreamily, " l3ut I 
 don't recognize the handwriting." 
 
 Sybil started. 
 
 " Can anything have happened to Tom ? " 
 
 She instinctively glanced at the envelope. 
 There was no black edfi^e. 
 
 Her father broke the seal, and hastily read 
 the contents. 
 
 " We must send for Mr. Slack instantly," 
 said he. " Eing the bell, Sybil." 
 
 Mr. Slack was the family la^^ycr, and he 
 arrived in the course of the afternoon. 
 Mr. Mainwaring handed him the letter. 
 Thomas had cjot into some o-amblinof row at 
 San Francisco, in which a man had been 
 killed, and he had been sentenced to a long 
 term of imprisonment. The letter was from 
 the governor of the jail.
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 " Well, at all events, he will not be able to 
 draw upon us for some time," said the man 
 of law, after reading the letter and taking a 
 practical view of the state of affairs. 
 
 " But can nothing be done," said Mr. 
 Mainwaring, seeming scarcely to heed what 
 he said. *' Cannot the Foreign Office, or 
 the ambassador, or some one do some thinor." 
 
 " Nothing whatever, my dear sir,'' said 
 Mr. Slack, in a by no means disconsolate 
 voice. " There is no use thinkincf of such 
 a thing. At all events, he will be well 
 cared for, and kept out of mischief where 
 he is." 
 
 Sybil was more symjDathetic, but she 
 could suggest nothing, and her father, feeling 
 that something or other must be done, took 
 to his bed and sent for the doctor. 
 
 The next day he sent for Mr. Slack again. 
 
 " If I were to die, what would become of 
 my property ? " 
 
 " Why, the entail has been cut off," said
 
 BEATING TEE AIB. 
 
 the attorney, "but if you leave no will 
 everything will go to your eldest son, except 
 the personal property, which will be divided 
 equally between your children/' 
 
 " I must make a will/' 
 
 "I think you certainly ought to do so/' 
 
 *' I will divide all my property among my 
 children : but I have not settled in what 
 shares. There is no hurry/' 
 
 ** No hurry whatever," said the lawyer. 
 
 "Will you make a draft of a will, leaving 
 the proportion of the shares in blank, and we 
 will settle it all when I am better. In a 
 week shall we say, when I have a little got 
 over this shock 1 " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly ; " and Mr. Slack 
 took his departure. But Mr. JMainwaring 
 never got over the shock. The family 
 doctor had been afraid of fever, and had 
 " lowered " his patient to the full extent of 
 his medical skill. ]\Ir. Mainwaring was low 
 enough in all conscience, both in body
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 79 
 
 and mind, and when by nature and art he 
 was brought to that condition in which 
 doctors usually adopt the brandy and cham- 
 pagne treatment, he was beyond all human 
 remedies, and after a brief period of uncon- 
 sciousness, he gradually sank, and died. 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring had very few relations. 
 A cousin of the name of Pevensey was 
 hastily summoned from London, and he came 
 down to look after the funeral arrangements ; 
 and he and Mr. Slack made a formal search 
 for the will which they knew did not exist. 
 Mr. Slack had a draft with the shares in 
 blank ! Letters of administration were there- 
 fore taken out by the cousin Mr. Pevensey 
 in the absence of nearer relations, Harold 
 being in India with his regiment. There 
 were but few debts ; but the land could not 
 be touched, for it belonged to the outcast in 
 jail at San Francisco ; so the furniture of the 
 house, with the books, pictures, plate, jewels, 
 and even the little knick-knacks and house-
 
 80 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 hold gods, which had for the owner a value 
 unknown to the maker of inventories, had 
 to be sold. Sibyl had to leave her home to 
 be given up to auctioneers and valuers ; 
 Thomas was communicated with in his 
 prison ; and a receiver under the control of 
 the Court of Chancery was put over the pro- 
 perty to collect and accumulate the rents for 
 the absent proprietor. 
 
 Mr. Pcvensev was not an unkind man, 
 and he took Sibyl up to London to stay 
 with him at a dull, formal house in 
 Tyburn ia, until her future should be decided 
 upon. Mrs. Pevensey was a stiflf, angular, 
 cold-looking woman, something like the home 
 she lived in, and poor Sybil felt utterly 
 alone in the world. But what was she to 
 do? She had been highly educated, she 
 had great natural intelligence, and she was 
 well fitted for the only career open to her : 
 she would be a governess. After winding 
 up the administration, ]\Ir. Pevensey found
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 81 
 
 a balance of just £300 in his hands, which 
 was legally divisible into three shares. A 
 hundred pounds was put aside for Thomas, 
 a valuable addition to his two thousand a 
 year, and Harold and Sybil were each for- 
 mally presented with their fortune of £100. 
 Mr. Pevensey was a practical man, and 
 after a few months he succeeded in obtain- 
 ing a "likely situation" for Sybil as 
 governess to two young ladies whose father 
 and mother were rich country people, and 
 who lived in the west of England, a long 
 way from her old home at Silvermere. Sybil 
 called on Mrs. Osborne at Thomas's Hotel, 
 and it was agreed that she was to go down 
 to Kelvedon Hall in the course of the next 
 week. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Kelvedon Hall was a huge white stone 
 pile, built in the worst taste of the end of 
 the last century ; but, uninviting as it 
 looked, Sybil detetermined to find in it a 
 home, and after a pompous introduction 
 to her pupils, and a very distant recog- 
 nition by Mr. Osborne, she went up to her 
 own room ; and before many days were 
 over, she had gained the affections of the 
 two girls who had received her at first 
 with becoming coldness ; and had written a 
 cheerful letter to Harold to acquaint him 
 w^ith w^hat she called her good fortune. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Osborne lived on what the
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 83 
 
 world styles very good terms ; they never 
 quarrelled in public, rarely perhaps in pri- 
 vate ; they held strict religious opinions ; and 
 in every way in which it did not affect them 
 they led an austere life, and looked with a 
 stern eye upon the foibles of their neigh- 
 bours — a judgment which increased to the 
 bitterest acrimony when the religious views 
 of the neighbours in question were not 
 perfectly in accordance with their own. 
 
 "Why should strong religious feelings 
 obliterate in the breasts of men what little 
 kindly charity has been planted there by the 
 Author of all religions, whose precepts the 
 disputants profess to revere, and who says 
 in repeated and emphatic words, that with- 
 out Charity we are nothing ? 
 
 However, Mr. and Mrs. Osborne lived 
 exemplary lives, according to their own 
 notions ; they cared little for society, their 
 principles forbad too much society ; they 
 disliked town ; London society was pro- 
 
 G 2
 
 84 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 nounced a sink of worldliness ; they were 
 indifferent to music, past dancing, and 
 bored by the play ; balls and concerts were 
 accordingly pomps and vanities, and the 
 theatre a snare of Satan. 
 
 But they were fond, like other religious 
 people, of good living ; and they had a cook 
 with a larger stipend than the curate of the 
 parish ; an entree was almost as much dis- 
 cussed as a dogma, and a ^xUe as much 
 relished as a controversial argument. Mr. 
 Osborne was fond of horses — the stables 
 were filled with priceless animals witli 
 long pedigrees and thin legs, but with an 
 extraordinarily small power of work, to judg<3 
 by the extreme difficulty with which any of 
 them were allowed to leave the stable-yard ; 
 save when, blanketed and rollered, they 
 capered every morning beneath slim gi'ooms 
 in the park. As to Mrs. Osborne's garden, 
 it was stocked with the rarest flowers — tlie 
 greater number of which never bloomed, and
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 85 
 ».^i 
 
 were merely prized on account of their cost ; 
 while greenhouses filled with exotics, shrul)- 
 beries, rockeries, ponds, pits, and every other 
 horticultural luxury, abounded at Kelvedon 
 Hall. 
 
 As may be supposed, Mr. and Mrs. Osborne 
 saw but little of each other. In the first 
 place they did not care about each other ; 
 they had little in common ; and I verily 
 believe if tliey had been shut up hi a room 
 together for an hour, they would not have 
 found anything to say to each other during 
 that time. Besides, Mr. Osborne was fully 
 occupied in his stable and in his study, 
 examining Pandora's fetlocks, or the Eev. Mr. 
 Faggot's report upon Protestant Heresies ; 
 superintending the " firing '' of Goldmine, or 
 considering how gladly he would have 
 adopted a somewhat similar mode of con- 
 vincing the Rev. Capel Chasuble of the error 
 of his ways. 
 
 Mrs. Osborne had too much to think of in
 
 86 BEATING THE JIB. 
 
 lier housekeeping and her garden to do 
 anything else, save on Sunday, when she 
 diligently perused a volume of her favourite 
 divine, and comforted herself with the thought 
 that a large proportion of her acquaintances 
 were far less profitably employed. 
 
 On these said Sabbaths, Mr. Osborne, 
 in addition to his two regular attendances 
 at church, would give an extra look at the 
 stables, with a somewhat more solemn air 
 than on week days, and after a rather better 
 dinner than usual at 6.30, instead of 7.30, 
 out of respect to the consciences of the 
 servants and the sanctity of the day, he 
 would assert his uncompromising and prac- 
 tical faith in the day of rest by going off 
 fast asleep in his easy chair till bed time. 
 
 Geraldine and Henrietta, as may be sup- 
 posed, did not come in for a very large 
 share of parental notice in this admirable 
 establishment, and though they were of a 
 somewhat chilly disposition, they gradually
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 87 
 
 grew attached to Miss Main\Yariiig, who was 
 at once young enough to take an interest 
 and a share in their amusements, and suflfi- 
 ciently intelligent and well-informed to 
 command their respect. But Sybil differed 
 chiefly from most governesses in that she 
 had plenty of common sense. And one of 
 the results of this peculiarity was, that she 
 completely and cheerfully accepted her new 
 position. Girls who have been brought up 
 in great houses always make the best poor 
 men's wives ; it is your impecunious clergy- 
 men's or " military officers' " daughters that 
 make extravagant and slatternly spouses, and 
 complaining homes ; and it is young ladies 
 of the same class who, as a rule, when 
 engaged as governesses, "feel theu' posi- 
 tion" so acutely that they spend the time 
 which should be devoted to theii' pupils' 
 education in looking for offence where none 
 is meant on the part of their employers, and 
 making themselves miserable because they
 
 88 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 do not receive an amount of attention to 
 which neither their talents nor their position 
 in any way entitle them. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Osborne saw very little of Sybil for some time 
 after her arrival. It was not the custom of the 
 house; and they more especially dreaded the 
 presence of a young lady who " had known 
 better days; " but gradually seeing more and 
 more of her, as time went on, they found 
 " Miss Mainwaring " neither huflfy nor push- 
 ing, expecting no special attention, yet 
 always ready to join in any general amuse- 
 ment that might be wished ; retiring in 
 society, but agreeable in conversation ; will- 
 ing to sing when asked, and unwilling to flirt ; 
 simply and quietly dressed, but always look- 
 ing what she was — a thorough lady. So it 
 came to pass that when Sybil had been a year 
 at Kelvedon Hall, she found herself in the 
 family circle rather in the position of a 
 friend than of a salaried instructress. Still, 
 she devoted her whole mind and well-nigh
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 89 
 
 her whole time to the education — not the 
 mere instruction — of her young charges, and 
 was as proud of them as she would have 
 been of her younger sisters. It was only the 
 thoughts of the dark figure in the western 
 prison, and the lone brother under the 
 eastern sun, that cast a shadow over her life 
 which it at times required all the engross- 
 ment of work or of play to dispel.
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Nearly three years after our first intro- 
 duction to young Humphrey Perceval, and 
 the dinner-party given in his honour by his 
 father and mother, and on a fine bright 
 afternoon in the middle of May, in the old 
 drawing-room in Queen Street, Mayfair, sits 
 Mrs. Perceval, looking much as she did 
 three years before, only a little paler ; and 
 with her is a young, a very young, Guards- 
 man. A fine young fellow, about five feet 
 ten in his stockin2js, with an erect fiofure, 
 a small head, covered with deep-brown 
 curling hair, regular features, deep blue 
 eyes, and that fresh, clean, healthy looking
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 91 
 
 colour — at once delicate and manly, — which 
 is so characteristic of well bred Englishmen 
 of nineteen. 
 
 Humphrey Perceval (for it was he) was 
 not quite nineteen, but he had been gazetted 
 Ensign and Lieutenant in the Coldstreams 
 a few weeks before, and had just returned 
 from his first Levee, glorious in scarlet and 
 gold and bearskin, and looking so fresh and 
 so happy, and so fine a specimen of a 
 thoroughbred young Englishman, that a less 
 partial eye than his mother's would have 
 looked at him with pleasure. He is grown 
 in every w^ay since we saw him last. He is 
 more manly of course, but he is also more 
 thouo;htful lookino', thouoh his broad fore- 
 head is not perhaps quite balanced by an 
 equal display of firmness and decision in 
 the lower part of his face. His blue eyes 
 are at once deep and bright, and his whole 
 countenance lights up as he smiles, in 
 a way that makes one feel that there
 
 92 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 can be nothing very dark behind or 
 within. 
 
 ''And how are you feeling, dear mother?" 
 says he, looking fondly up into her face. 
 
 ** Oh, quite well, darling. But, tell me, 
 what did you think of the Levee ? " 
 
 But Mrs. Perceval was not quite well; and 
 day by day, as the season wore on, she grew 
 paler and paler, and even Humj^hrey, in the 
 full flush of first military duties and first social 
 pleasures, could not fail to mark the change. 
 
 Charles Perceval grew anxious. 
 
 Doctors were called in, who felt Mrs. 
 Perceval's pulse ; talked about the weather ; 
 and said " it was nothing — a little want of 
 tone/' A great physician was consulted, 
 who auscultated and smiled, and who, having 
 twenty patients waiting in his dining-room 
 to be similarly auscultated and smiled at, 
 had not time to talk about the weather, said 
 "there was a decided want of tone," and 
 prescribed change of air.
 
 BEATING THE AIIl. 93 
 
 So as the season drew to a close, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Perceval and Humphrey went to Horn- 
 burg, where the bright fresh air and inoffen- 
 sive water brought a little colour back into the 
 invalid's cheeks ; but the doctor said there 
 was still "a great want of tone," and that 
 the patient must go to the Engadine. St. 
 Moritz did not at all agree with Mrs. 
 Perceval, and a winter abroad was pro- 
 nounced essential. 
 
 So Humphrey went home to his regiment, 
 and his father and mother journeyed south 
 to Mentone. The young Guardsman paid 
 them a short visit at one of the loveliest 
 and one of the saddest of continental water- 
 ing places; and the ensuing spriug found 
 him with his remment at Windsor — waiting* 
 for news. 
 
 Mentone had done his mother no o-ood 
 Her bright and equable spirits almost 
 persuaded her husband, who was so anxious 
 to be persuaded, that she was no worse, but
 
 94 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 strangers saw more clearly, and even the 
 doctors shook their heads. Charles Perceval 
 could not find it in his heart to write other- 
 wise than hopefully to his son in England. 
 He could not bring himself face to face with 
 the dim fears that haunted him, by giving 
 them expression upon paper. 
 
 So Humphrey felt rather than knew the 
 danger. And so he lived from day to day — 
 waiting for news. At last it came, one day 
 early in May. He must go to Mentone at 
 once. There was no difficulty about leave. 
 Of course not. He would start by the 
 Calais mail next morning. Arrived in Paris, 
 he had just time to eat a hunied dinner, 
 drive across Paris, and present himself at 
 the ticket window of the Lyons Eailway. It 
 was before the days of the Corniche Extension. 
 
 " Nice. Fii'st class " 
 
 "The distribution of tickets for Nice is 
 over,'' said a woman in a white cap from 
 behind a wire grating.
 
 BEATIXG TEE A IE. 95 
 
 " How over ? the train does not start for 
 ten minutes/' 
 
 " Just so, the distribution for all stations 
 beyond ^larseilles is suspended ten minutes 
 before the departure of the traitL You can 
 yet take a ticket for Marseilles if you are so 
 minded." 
 
 Humphrey did so with something between 
 a groan and a curse. 
 
 " Of course I can take a ticket on to Nice 
 when we arrive at Marseilles." 
 
 " That I am not able to tell you,~ said the 
 woman stolidly. "It will be necessary to 
 address yourself to the appointed officer 
 when you shall have arrived at Marseilles." 
 
 Having comfortably established himself in 
 a through carriage labelled Xice, Humphrey 
 was ignominiously expelleil therefrom at the 
 very last moment by the guard who ex- 
 amined his ticket, and thrust into a carriage 
 with seven Germans, five of whom smoked 
 without intermission throughout the night
 
 96 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 while the other two kept the windows her- 
 metically closed. At midday the train 
 arrived at Marseilles, and Humphrey dashed 
 out in search of the ticket office. It was a 
 long way off. The " service of arrival '' and 
 the " service of departure " were separate. 
 They seemed to have even opposing interests. 
 They were certainly divided by every barrier 
 that human ingenuity could devise. At 
 length after making a dash tlirough an 
 opening unguarded by anything more capable 
 of resistance than a placard Le j^uhlic n'y 
 entre pas, Humphrey found himself before 
 the ticket window. There was a file or 
 *' tail " of persons waiting their turn. Fret- 
 ting and fuming the poor boy had to wait 
 his. At length it came. 
 
 " Nice, quick ! " said he. 
 
 " The distribution of tickets for Nice 
 takes place only two hours hence." 
 
 " Two hours hence ! I want to go by the 
 express that starts in five minutes."
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 97 
 
 " The distribution of tickets for the ex- 
 press takes place at the other window.'' 
 
 ''And where is that?" said Humphrey 
 hurriedly. 
 
 " The second on the right/' said the 
 authority blandly ; " but it has been closed 
 for five minutes." 
 
 "Yes," said the official on duty outside 
 the window, in confirmation and with great 
 politeness, " Monsieur will not be able to 
 take the express train." 
 
 Humphrey was in despair. " The station 
 master," said he to the bland official, "I must 
 see him, — I must go by this train." 
 
 The man smiled. '' When the distribution 
 of tickets shall have been completed I will 
 go and inform Mr. Chief Station Master of 
 your desire to see him." 
 
 Humphrey rushed from the spot to regain 
 the train ; determined to try at all hazards 
 to reach Nice that day without a ticket, if he 
 could not do so with one. But by the time he 
 
 VOL. T. H
 
 98 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 had readied the platform where he had left 
 his carriage, the express was already on its 
 w^ay to Toulon, and Humphrey, taking the 
 slow" train which started three hours later, 
 did not reach Nice until past midnight. It 
 was impossible to get horses at such an 
 hour ; so that, in spite of all Humphrey's 
 exertions, the next morning was already 
 far advanced as his carriage clattered into 
 Mentone and the coachman made his de- 
 vious way to the villa where the Percevals 
 had spent the winter. 
 
 The door was opened by Charles Perceval, 
 and Humphrey at once saw in his face that 
 he had arrived too late ! All was over. 
 
 " My dear, dear father," was all that the 
 son could say as he embraced him. Charles 
 Perceval made no reply. He could say 
 nothing. He had nourished hope when 
 there was no hope ; his only thoughts had 
 iDeen those begotten of wishes, until at length 
 a reality from which there was no turning
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 99 
 
 away had dealt liim a crusliing blow, and 
 
 stunned him for ever. Aye, for ever ; for 
 
 although he recovered for the time, and 
 
 returned by easy stages and much idle 
 
 and desultory travelling to England, he 
 
 never was again the same man as he had 
 
 been before the visit of the Reaper to his 
 
 happy home, and the transplanting of the 
 
 sweet flower of his life into the gardens of 
 
 Paradise. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Charles Perceval lived on in the old 
 house in Queen Street, Mayfair. He sought 
 distraction in his books and the work of his 
 office, and his son was constantly with him, 
 devoting the frequent "intervals of military 
 duty to his society. 
 
 So they lived for many months. Hum- 
 phrey began to go out a little into the world : 
 his father lived as much alone as ever. 
 
 At length, one day, as they were sitting 
 together after dinner, the widower said — 
 
 H 2
 
 100 BEATING THE AIE. 
 
 " Humplirey, this sort of life A^dll never 
 do for you." 
 
 '' What do you mean, father ? " 
 
 "Why, I mean that you will be of age in 
 a few days, and you must not spend all your 
 days moping in a little London street. You 
 must go more into society. You must go 
 and pay some visits in the country, and, 
 above all, you must go to Shipton. You 
 haven't seen your Uncle Walter for an age." 
 
 Humphrey resisted, but it Avas evident 
 that his father was quite right ; and it was 
 at length arranged that they should both go 
 down together that day fortnight to Shipton 
 Court, and that Humphrey should afterwards 
 pay two or three country visits by himself. 
 
 Among the gaiests at Shipton was Mr. 
 Osborne, and before he left the house it had 
 been arranged that Humphrey should go and 
 spend a few days at Kelvedon Hall. In due 
 time a more formal note arrived from Mrs. 
 Osborne, and a fortnight after, Humphrey
 
 BEATING THE AIR, 101 
 
 found himself on the way ''to avail himself 
 of her kind invitation." 
 
 " You had better look out," said his uncle, 
 as they parted. '' There's a daughter that I 
 suppose Mrs. Osborne will want you to 
 marry ! " 
 
 " Never fear," said Humphrey, lightly ; 
 ^' I think I can look after my own heart."
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 Kelvedon Hall was a large house stand- 
 ing in a fine old park, in wliieli, some two or 
 three hundred yards in front of the mansion^ 
 there was a large sheet of artificial water. 
 This was spanned by a long wooden bridge 
 or causeway, with a rustic balustrade, on 
 which the carriage drive was taken across 
 the lake. 
 
 One afternoon Sybil and the two girls 
 were standing on the bridge, leaning over 
 the parapet, throwing bits of bread to the 
 fish which were playing near the surface. 
 Deeply absorbed in this innocent amusement,, 
 they started suddenly on hearing the sound
 
 BEATING THE AIR. lOa 
 
 of wheels crackling on the crisp gravel, and 
 Sybil, who had l^een leaning over a weak 
 rail of the parapet, pushed sharply against it 
 in recovering herself : it gave way, and she 
 was precipitated into the water. 
 
 The girls screamed, but Henrietta had 
 presence of mind enough to seek assistance 
 from the innocent cause of the accident, in. 
 the shape of a fly well loaded with luggage, 
 which had already reached the spot where 
 they stood — near the middle of the bridge. 
 There were far too many horses in the 
 Kelvedon stables, and the horses themselves- 
 were much too valuable, to admit of visitors- 
 being fetched from the railway station, some 
 three miles distant; and the fly, which pulled 
 up at Henrietta's excited command, was laden 
 with a visitor's luggage, and occupied hy 
 the visitor himself 
 
 Astonished at the abrupt stoppage of his- 
 conveyance, and still more astonished at the 
 frightened faces of Henrietta at the window
 
 104 BEATING THE AIM. 
 
 and Geraldine in tlie background, it took 
 Humphrey Perceval some seconds to under- 
 stand the position of affairs. Only a very 
 few seconds, however ; for in less than half 
 a minute he had divested himself of his 
 coats and other "wraps," and was looking 
 over the bridge into the water. 
 
 " She fell in just here," said 'Etta, point- 
 inor to the broken rail. 
 ; But she was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 " She has sunk ! " screamed 'Diny, " she 
 will be drowned." 
 
 Humphrey did not hesitate a moment. 
 His Eton education had taught him at least 
 to swim, and he plunged into the water, and 
 -dived deep after the lost and unknown lady. 
 He caught her at once — she was not quite 
 insensible — and he rose with her quickly to 
 the surface. But how was he to get her out? 
 The floor of the bridge was some eight feet 
 above the level of the water, and he must 
 swim with her to the bank, which was but
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 105 
 
 thirty or forty yards distance, but which 
 even to a strong swimmer like Humphrey, 
 when hampered with thick wet garments 
 and supporting a drowning woman similarly 
 ■encumbered, seemed, and indeed was, a long 
 and a weary way. Once, indeed, he thought 
 he should never accomplish it, as his burden, 
 with a struggle, dragged him under water ; 
 but he never thought of freeing himself. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, keep still, or we shall 
 both be drowned!" cried he, as he struggled 
 bravely onward. 
 
 And Sybil, who was as brave as he was in 
 her own way, did keep still. A few more 
 strokes and he touches the bank. The fly- 
 man, as well as 'Etty and 'Diny, are there to 
 seize the saviour and the saved, and they are 
 both once more on dry land. Sybil, who had 
 never quite lost consciousness, was packed 
 into the fly with Henrietta : the man was 
 ordered to drive to the house as fast as his 
 lean horse could get over the ground, wdiile
 
 106 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 Humphrey walked up after them with 
 'Diny. It was his first visit to Kelvedon, 
 and he certainly was making his first appear- 
 ance in no ordinary way. 
 
 There was something in this a little flat- 
 tering to his youthful vanity, which indeed 
 needed some salve, as he contemplated his 
 outward appearance. Most people, when 
 they pay their first visit' at a smart house, 
 desire to look their best ; and when the 
 house contains smart young ladies, and the 
 visitor is a young guardsman of one-and- 
 twenty who piques himself upon being in- 
 variably well dressed, this natural desire is 
 not likely to be any weaker than usual. 
 
 Humphrey was in his shirt-sleeves, his 
 coats having been left in the fly to cover Sybil; 
 he had lost his hat in the lake ; his remaining 
 garments were of course dripping and black 
 with water and mud, and his hair matted 
 with green water-weed. Never was there 
 so bedraggled-looking a young guardsman !
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 107 
 
 It is true that lie had just performed a heroic 
 action, but for the moment he thought more 
 about the absurdity of his appearance ; he 
 had just escaped a deadly peril, but he 
 thought more of his meeting his hostess in 
 his present highly unconventional garb. 
 
 'Diny was too much disturbed in her mind 
 by her fright to be able to set her unknown 
 companion much at his ease ; and further^ 
 more, she was at that somewhat awkward 
 age or stage of life through which girls pass 
 between fourteen and seventeen, when they 
 are just old enough to be conscious, like 
 David Copperfield, of their extreme youth, 
 and just young enough to be treated as if 
 they were conscious of nothing beyond 
 *^Mangnairs Questions" — when they are 
 tired of playing with dolls, and are not yet 
 allowed to play with men. 
 
 It is an age typified by their skirts, which 
 are neither long nor short, but hang about 
 their ankles, like ill-made curtains that are
 
 I':^S BEATIXG THE AIB. 
 
 t<x) short for tiie doors or window^ aor^dnst 
 wHcli they are hung. 
 
 In the first seventeen vears of a woman's 
 life, the rise or fall of the petticoat is an 
 infallible, or as it were a barometric test, by 
 which] her age may be told at a glance ; 
 and it is the want of mobility in this baro- 
 metric o^arment, that makes her a^e from 
 seventeen to seventy-seven so very uncertain. 
 
 So Humphrey and 'Diny walked along 
 side by side and almost in silence, imtil 
 they got close to the house, when 'Diny's 
 womanly tact, which was somewhat in ad- 
 vance of her petticoats, led her to say, after 
 a little gulp : 
 
 '•'Would not you like to go in by the 
 -side door, and then you can get some dry 
 things before you see mamma 1 " 
 
 Humphrey jumped at the suggestion with 
 most plebeian alacrity. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ; certainly ; please.'' 
 
 T)iny rang the side-door bell, and delivered
 
 BEATING THE AIB. \m 
 
 over Humphrey to a footman, who appeared 
 in powder and shorts, and who received. 
 Humphrey with a completely imperturbable 
 face — exactly as if the invariable way for 
 guests to arrive at Kelvedon was to be first 
 dragged through a pond; and having learned 
 the guest's name, he showed him to his room, 
 where his bao^o-aQ-e in a few minutes followed 
 him. Sybil was put to bed, and warm 
 applications, both external and internal, soon 
 brought her round, and after a good night, 
 she awoke as fresh as ever next mornino-. 
 Nor was the '' o^oodness of her nio-ht " in 
 any degree marred by the vague sensation, 
 half dream, half recollection, of a strong 
 arm clasping her delicate form, and a kind 
 voice telling her not to fear. And she did 
 not fear a bit ! 
 
 Humphrey made his first appearance — in 
 faultless evenino- dress — as the o-uests were 
 assembling for dinner, and felt decidedly 
 uncomfortable, partly at not knowing Mrs.
 
 110 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 Osborne by sight, and much more so from 
 the dread of being set upon and gushed 
 at for his conduct in rescuing the young 
 lady on his arrival His fears were without 
 foundation. Mrs. Osborne walked up to him 
 with outstretched hand as he entered the 
 room, and made so very slight an allusion 
 to the " rescue," that Humphrey, although 
 decidedly relieved, was actually somewhat 
 disappointed. 
 
 "I hope the young lady is no worse 
 for her swim," said he lightly to 'Etta, to 
 whom he had just been introduced, as *' my 
 eldest daughter,'' and whose skirts were as 
 long as her lately "come out" position 
 warranted, and somewhat longer than was 
 consistent with her free movement in every 
 direction. 
 
 " Thank you. Miss Mainwaring has almost 
 got over her shock ; she has gone to bed, 
 and I hope she will be all right in the 
 mornms:. But I do not know what we
 
 BEATING THE AIR. Ill 
 
 should heave done if it had not been for 
 
 " Oh, I'm only so glad I happened to be 
 passing at the time," said Humphrey quickly. 
 ^'Miss Mainwaring ? — did you say? — is a 
 great friend of yours 1 '' 
 
 " She is our governess — that is to say 
 'Diny's, my sister's," said 'Etta Osborne, 
 remembering that as a " come out " youno- 
 lady, she could not have a governess, " but 
 she is a great friend, too ; she is so nice ; not 
 a bit like an ordinary governess. I think 
 you are to take me down to dinner." And 
 the company filed off. 
 
 The dinner was excellent. The Vice-pre- 
 sident of the Society for the Prevention of 
 Cruelty to Animals was there, and seemed 
 specially to enjoy his crimped salmon and 
 pate de foie gras ; and after the ladies had 
 left the room, Mr. Osborne carried on an 
 argument upon the Question of Justification 
 by Faith only, with an eminent divine, over
 
 112 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 some Chateau Lafitte, whose production Dr. 
 Ormston would certainly have qualified as 
 an undoubted good work ; and whose due 
 appreciation and consumption he appeared 
 to consider incumbent upon an earnest 
 Christian.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It is, perhaps, not to be wondcrcci at that 
 Sybil should have blushed and felt a little 
 confused next morning after prayers, when 
 she was formally introduced to her pre- 
 server; and it is certain that she looked 
 prettier than ever, and indeed completely 
 charming amid her blushes and her con- 
 fusion. 
 
 Humphrey quite agreed with Henrietta's 
 remark of the evening before, that Sybil was 
 *' not a bit like an ordinary governess ; '' 
 indeed, he thought she was very far from 
 being an ordinary young lady of any kind. 
 They made very merry over their iiitroduc"
 
 114 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 tiorij and Humplirey told the well-known 
 French, story of the ideal Englishman, who 
 refused to jump overboard after a drowning 
 countryman, on the ground that, not having 
 been previously introduced to him, the man 
 in the water might resist his taking such a 
 liberty as to pick him out. Humphrey 
 hoped that Miss Mainwaring's code of social 
 propriety was not quite so severe, and that 
 he had not done wrong in forestalling 
 Mrs. Osborne's formal introduction that 
 morniniy. 
 
 Sybil smiled as she said "not at all," 
 and Humphrey thought her more charming 
 than ever. And so the breakfast passed 
 off pleasantly enough. But ]\Irs. Osborne 
 looked a little glum, and thought that the 
 young guardsman might have paid more 
 attention to Henrietta, and less to her 
 governess, who was only present at the 
 family breakfast inasmuch as the party in 
 the house was a small one, and Mrs. Osborne
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 115 
 
 tliouglit it would do 'Diny no harm at her 
 age to see how grown-up people behaved at 
 the morning meal ; and Mr. Osborne, who 
 piqued himself upon everything about the 
 place being perfect of its kind, and in apple- 
 pie order, did not care to be reminded that 
 a smart young man, on paying his first visit 
 to Kelvedon, should find his pet bridge 
 broken down, and his governess struggling 
 in the water. 
 
 Without exactly going the length of the 
 Englishman in the French story, Mr. 
 Osborne did think that it was a misfortune 
 that Ms daughters and Ms governess should 
 be so much indebted to a stranger for 
 succour. It was a great pity that some of 
 the establishment had not been there to 
 pick Miss Mainwaring out of the water, 
 into which she had clearly no business to 
 fall — especially at so very inopportune a 
 moment. 
 
 LIr. Perceval could not, perhaps, have 
 
 I 2
 
 116 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 acted otlierwise than he did, but he had 
 put Mr. Osborne under an obligation, a thing 
 which he had no right to do. Of course he 
 'did not for a moment regret that Sybil had 
 been rescued. God forbid ! But as it had 
 'clearly been ordained by Providence that 
 she should not be drowned upon that occa- 
 sion, he wished that Providence had gone 
 just a little further, and that she had been 
 quietly pulled out of the water by the keeper 
 or one of the farm labourers. 
 
 Providence had not treated him quite 
 as well in this matter as a person of Mr. 
 Osborne's position, to say nothing of ]\I.r. 
 Osborne's piety, deserved. His (igg, too, 
 ^vas not enough boiled by fully half a 
 minute, and the second edition of dry toast 
 was a trifle hard ; and altogether he con- 
 sidered himself decidedly hardly used, and 
 only got himself into a holier frame of mind 
 in the course of the morning, by adminis- 
 tering stinging rebukes to tlie carpenter.
 
 BEATING THE AIB. UT 
 
 who should have looked after the bridge- 
 railings, and to a groom who had not 
 only allowed himself to be run awaj 
 with by Aerolite that morning, but had 
 failed to make his appearance at family 
 prayers. 
 
 Humphrey was glad to be able to plead 
 a slight indisposition, and withdraw as soon 
 as the inevitable tour of the stables was 
 accomplished, to take a walk with the 
 young ladies, and of course with their fair 
 companion. 
 
 Throughout the week of his visit, indeed,. 
 he showed as great partiality for the girls'' 
 society as if he bad been an old bachelor- 
 of seventy, and developed a sudden pro- 
 ficiency in the art of croquet and tlie^ 
 science of field botany, which would not 
 have disgraced an eligible modern curate in. 
 a country parish. 
 
 Mr. Osborne made up his mind that he- 
 was a milksop. Mrs. Osborne decided that
 
 118 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 lie had fallen in love at first sight with 
 Henrietta, and complacently regarded the 
 possibilities and advantages of her daughter 
 eventually becomiug Lady Perceval — for 
 Humphrey's expectations had been most con- 
 scientiously investigated before he had been 
 asked to stay at Kelvedon Hall — while poor 
 Humphrey was leading a new kind of life in 
 a new world ; a fairyland into which he had 
 entered, not to say leaped, when he sprang 
 over the broken balustrade of the bridge 
 on the Kelvedon drive ; and he thought 
 neither of what he was doing, nor of whither 
 he was going. The very air seemed so much 
 lighter, a.nd the whole world so much 
 brioliter than of old, that he trod the earth 
 like Ulysses, and felt as if his very body, as 
 well as his soul, had wings. 
 
 And was Henrietta the cause of all this ? 
 It could scarcely have been so. For ''whene'er 
 they took their walks abroad " and divided 
 themselves, as all parties of four people do
 
 BEATIXG THE AIB. 119 
 
 divide themselves — into two couples, the first 
 couple consisted of Henrietta and her sister, 
 and the second couple of the young guards- 
 man and the young governess. 
 
 And indeed it was Sybil who was the 
 Queen of Humphrey's Fairyland ! 
 
 But the strangest part of it all was, that 
 she too was living in a world far above the 
 schoolroom; and the flowers she plucked in 
 the hedgerows with Humphrey might have 
 been of rubies, and sapphires, and diamonds, 
 like the blossoms in Aladdin's garden, and 
 each painted croquet ball formed of a single 
 pearl, to be in harmony with the enchanted 
 palace of her young imagination, and of the 
 enchanted prince who was the lord of this 
 fairy mansion. 
 
 And the prince was Humphrey. 
 
 People who have never lived in a fairy 
 palace, or who have left it long ago for a 
 front and back dra\\Tng-room, covered with 
 Brussels carpet, and hung with a white and
 
 120 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 gold paper, and ^tIio are regularly brought 
 face to face witli the cook's bills and the 
 butcher's book, will say that these two 
 young people were acting very improperly. 
 The young guardsman had no right to 
 make love to his neighbour's governess, 
 even if he intended to marry her, which, 
 being a man of proper feelings, he could 
 never think of doing ; and the young 
 governess had still less right to fall in 
 love with her neighbour's guardsman, and 
 carry on a shameful flirtation with him 
 under the very eyes of her mistress, and 
 as it were under the cloak of her pupils. 
 After all, perhaps Mv. Perceval had a right 
 to "amuse himself" if he chose, but Miss 
 Mainwaring was clearly paid to walk witli 
 'Etta, and not with 'Etta's possible ad- 
 mirers — and to teach 'Diny French and 
 Music, and not the art of judiciously 
 chaperoning her friends when they chose to 
 go out flirting.
 
 BEATING THE AIJR. 121 
 
 Indeed they were both very much to 
 Wame. But they were neither of them per- 
 fect. It is really very unfortunate ; but they 
 were not ; and there is no use in saying that 
 they were. The fact is, that when two 
 people plunge suddenly into Fairyland, 
 especially if they take the plunge at the 
 same moment, they are apt to forget, at all 
 events for a short time, the world of Brus- 
 sels carpets and butchers' books, and think of 
 nothing but their own sweet enchanted and 
 enchanting selves. The highways of earth 
 are so very dusty to tliose who are in love, 
 and the paths of Paradise are so very green 
 and soft, and so bright and so sweet with 
 glorified flowers, and so gay 'v\dth the song of 
 glorified birds, that we ought to be only too 
 glad to let the poor lovers, who are but 
 men and women after all, make their walk 
 last as long as it will. They will come back 
 to earth again soon enough, never fear ; and 
 if " 'tis better to have loved and lost than
 
 122 BEATING THE AIR 
 
 never to liave loved at all/^ liow mucli better 
 still is it to Lave walked or flown a stage 
 of the journey of life hand in hand with a 
 Fairy queen in the meads of Arcady, even 
 if the remainder of the journey must be 
 performed along the dustiest highways of 
 earth in second-class carriages and four- 
 wheeled cabs. But a governess, with 
 duties to her pupils : duties to her employer. 
 It is shameful ! Ah, madam, you cannot 
 buy hearts for £100 a year. The salary 
 is liberal. But it won't do. 
 
 And so it came to pass that Humphrey 
 and Sybil, as innocently and as spon- 
 taneously and as thoughtlessly and as 
 happily as any two young creatures that 
 ever looked into each other's eyes to see the 
 reflection of each other's happiness, fell in 
 love with each other, and found it the 
 pleasantest thing in the world. 
 
 At length, however, one night, as Hum- 
 phrey was retiring to rest, it flashed upon
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 123 
 
 liim that, according to the terms of his 
 invitation, his visit should terminate on 
 the morrow, and he began to wonder, first, 
 how he should get a fly to take him to the 
 station, and, secondly, what he should do 
 without Sybil. It was quite a new idea ; 
 and by no means an agreeable one, but it 
 induced him to think over his and her 
 position. 
 
 Humphrey was no vulgar flirt : he 
 was still further from being a heartless 
 seducer — the idea of such a thing had never 
 entered his head. But Qnarriage ! He 
 had thought just as little of that. It was 
 a serious practical step. He had certainly 
 never seen anybody whom he admired so 
 much as Miss Mainwaring, no one with 
 whom he could live so happily, and with 
 whom, above all, he so completely sym- 
 pathized : but still he had known her such a 
 short time, a few days : and then he was so 
 young. Perhaps she would not have him.
 
 124 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 The last objection did not cause him much 
 uneasiness. But, then, if she did care 
 about him, he ought not to abandon her. 
 Abandon her! indeed that was very far 
 from his mind. He would rather take 
 her away with him the next day. But 
 that clearly could not be done. Had he 
 behaved badly towards his host and hostess ? 
 They had certainly not asked him to 
 Kelvedon to carry off their governess. 
 Altogether it was very puzzling, and before 
 Humphrey had made up his mind either as 
 to what he ought to do or what he would 
 do, he fell asleep. The next morning he 
 found out the last train to London, com- 
 missioned the butler to procure a fly, and 
 determined to spend as much of the day 
 as he could with INIiss Mainwarino^, and 
 perhaps come to some understanding with 
 her. But fate decreed it otherwise. As 
 soon as the ladies had left the breakfast 
 room, Mrs. Osborne said, " Miss Main-
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 125 
 
 waring, Mrs. Beech and Miss Beech want 
 to go over and see Crackenbury castle, and 
 I had intended to go with them, but I have 
 got rather a headache this morning. I \rah 
 you and 'Diny would go instead. You 
 don t mind, do you ? " she added, in a tone 
 of voice which said, Go up and put on your 
 bonnet at once. 
 
 '' Oh, of course, I shall be very glad," 
 said Sybil. "What o'clock is the carriage 
 ordered for ? " 
 
 " Eleven," said Mrs. Osborne, looking at 
 Mrs. Beech, " that will quite suit you, I 
 hope I " 
 
 " Oh quite. So kind of Miss Main- 
 waring to come and show us the way,'' 
 said Mrs. Beech mechanically. "Hope we 
 are not taking you away from" — Mrs. 
 Beech paused a moment, not knowing quite 
 what she might be supposed to be taken 
 away from, — ^while poor Sybil's heart leaped 
 to her mouth — " from your practising ? "
 
 126 BEATING THE AIM. 
 
 *' Oil no, not tlie least in tlie world/' 
 said the governess hastily, relieved, she 
 scarcely knew why. 
 
 *^I think you had all better go and 
 put on your bonnets at once," said Mrs. 
 Osborne. ** It is just a quarter to eleven. 
 I have ordered plenty of luncheon to be 
 put in the carriage ; it's a charming place 
 for a pic-nic, and you will be back, I hope, 
 to tea about ^ve.'^ 
 
 "Thanks so much — very kind,'* replied 
 the guest as she moved off. 
 
 In twenty minutes Sybil with 'Diny and 
 Mrs. and IMiss Beech were bowling along 
 the road to Crackenbur}^, and a few minutes 
 later Humphrey re-entered the house and 
 repaired as usual to the school-room. It 
 was empty. Where could they be ? Not 
 gone out yet ? and without him ? It is 
 true Miss Mainwaring did not know he 
 was going away that day. But still. He 
 went down to the drawino'-room. There
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 127 
 
 he found Mrs. Osborne, wlio, congratulating 
 lierself on having disposed of "those dull 
 Beeches" for the rest of the day, had for- 
 gotten her headache, and having just looked 
 through the menu of an exceedingly good 
 dinner for that evening, was turning over 
 the leaves of the Illustrated London News, 
 which had arrived that morning. 
 
 *' Oh, Mr. Perceval," said she, " so sorry 
 we are going to lose you to-day " — she 
 thought Humphrey had forgotten that fact 
 — " I am afraid we cannot send you to the 
 station. Mr. Osborne is so particular about 
 the horses, and the road to Hornby is so 
 very stony." 
 
 "Thank you, I have already ordered a 
 fly," said Humphrey, quietly. "I have 
 taken the liberty of fixing the four o'clock 
 train, the last to London, as the one I shall 
 go by, in order that I may put off as long 
 as possible the conclusion of so pleasant a 
 visit."
 
 123 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 Mrs. Osborne smiled and bowed her 
 acknowledgment of the compliment. 
 
 ''I am so glad you have enjoyed yom'self. 
 Hope you will come again some other time. 
 Pray write and offer yourself whenever you 
 are next in this part of the world. What 
 are you thinking of doing this morning ? " 
 
 "I was thinking of takincj a walk with 
 — Miss Osborne," said Humphrey, deceit- 
 fully. 
 
 " I will ring and ask where she is. 
 'Diny and Miss Mainwaring have gone off 
 with Mrs. Beech and her daughter to spend 
 the day at Crackenbury." 
 
 It was fortunate that Humphrey, having 
 advanced to anticipate his hostess in ring- 
 ing the bell, should have had his face 
 turned away from her as she finished her 
 sentence. But he said nothing. 
 
 There was a slight pause, and the footman 
 appeared. 
 
 " Tell Mrs. Parker to let Miss Osborne
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 129 
 
 know tliat Mr. Perceval is ready to go out 
 walking with her." 
 
 "Yes'm." 
 
 Humphrey had recovered. After all, in 
 the absence of Sybil, perhaps the pleasantest 
 thing to do would be to take a walk 
 with Henrietta. At any rate, he could 
 talk about the governess, towards whom 
 Miss Osborne always seemed very kindly 
 disposed. 
 
 After a few commonplace remarks to Mrs 
 Osborne, 'Etti came in, and they sallied forth 
 together, leaving Mrs. Osborne more than 
 ever convinced of the justness of her sur- 
 mises, and inclined to give Providence a 
 self-satisfied pat on the back for sending 
 such a highly eligible young man to Kelve- 
 don, and making him so speedily take a 
 fancy to her eldest daughter 
 
 But Henrietta knew much better. 
 
 It is true she was only just " come out," 
 but she was quite woman enough to see that 
 
 YOL. I. K
 
 130 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 Humphrey was not a bit in love with her, 
 and that he was over head and ears in love 
 with Miss Mainwaring. So she thought 
 she would at least tease him a little. 
 
 "I am afraid you will find your walk 
 very dull to-day, Mr. Perceval," said she, as 
 soon as they had got well out of the hall- 
 door. 
 
 " Why ? How do you mean ? " said 
 Humphrey, rather confusedly. 
 
 *' Oh, we are such a much smaller party 
 than usual." 
 
 Humphrey muttered something about 
 *^ little and good," in supposed allusion to the 
 size of the present party, but remembering 
 that Miss Osborne was about five feet seven, 
 while Sybil did not stand above five feet two 
 in her slippers, he grew more confused, and 
 held his tongue. 
 
 " Well, where are Ave going to ? " said his 
 tormentor. 
 
 " Oh, wherever you like."
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 131 
 
 " But you sent for me to take a walk ; 
 the least you can do is to suggest somewhere 
 to go to. It is the hardest thing in the 
 world to choose for oneself." 
 
 *'Well, shall we walk throus^h the o^len 
 and round the Crow Wood ? " susfsested 
 Humphrey, desperately. 
 
 '^Very well. It is scarcely a new or 
 original idea ; but all the walks about here 
 are the same to me. I know them aU by 
 heart. (Pause.) But did you send for me 
 to walk throusfh the orlen and round the 
 
 o o 
 
 Crow Wood?" 
 
 " I did not send for you at all, — at least, 
 — that is to say — I should not have ventured 
 to send for you ; your mother sent for you." 
 
 *' I suppose you told her you would like 
 to take a walk with me ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Why didn't you come and fetch me in 
 the schoolroom as you always do ? " 
 
 'a did."
 
 132 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 " And was no one there ? " 
 
 *' No one/' This so blankly, that Henri- 
 etta laughed a malicious little laugh. 
 
 "Ah, I am afraid no one is here ! " 
 
 " AVhat do you mean, Miss Osborne ? " 
 
 " I am afraid I must have misunderstood 
 you when you asked me to take this walk 
 with you — through the glen and round the 
 Crow Wood,'' interrupted 'Etta. 
 
 " Oh no ; quite the contrary. But I am 
 going away to-day," said he, somewhat 
 inconsequently. 
 
 '' I'm very sorry," said she, unaffectedly ; 
 "and I am sure Miss Mainwaring will be 
 very sorry too." 
 
 Humphrey felt that 'Etta was not such a 
 bad girl after all. 
 
 " Shall I say good-bye to her from you ? 
 I am afraid you will be gone before she 
 comes back. AYhen do you start '? " 
 
 Humphrey felt that he decidedly liked 
 'Etta.
 
 BEATIXG TBE AIE. 133 
 
 *' A little after three,'*'" said he. 
 
 " Do you remember my telling you that 
 Mlss Mainwaring was very nice, and not at 
 all like an ordinary governess i Don't you 
 think I was right ? " 
 
 *•' Quite right ; you were quite right. She 
 is indeed very nice.'' 
 
 Humphrey thought he had said enougL 
 
 " Do you know that until her father's 
 death she lived at a very fine place ; and 
 that it is only l^ecause all the property 
 was entailed upon some one in America, or 
 something of the sort, that she was left so 
 poor that she had to go out as a 
 Q-ovemess ? " 
 
 "No, indeed," said Humphrey, much 
 interested. 
 
 *''0h yes; she had no mother, and she 
 used to keep house and have the ordering of 
 everything ; and I should think she must 
 have felt the change dreadfully; but she 
 was so good: she never complained, or even
 
 134 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 said a word about lier old home ; and slie 
 was always so cheerful and kind. And she 
 seemed quite happy." 
 
 " I have no doubt you have a good deal 
 to say to that," said Humphrey, almost 
 tenderly. 
 
 '' Oh, indeed, I don*t know. I think she 
 would have made herself happy anywhere, 
 for she is so good that she would have made 
 everybody happy about her." 
 
 This highly philosophical remark was but 
 fuel to the fire in Humphrey's breast, which 
 at that moment liad certainly no need of it ; 
 and it was as much as he could do to pre- 
 vent himself from breaking forth into a 
 declaration of his passion for Sybil to Miss 
 Osborne, but he succeeded in checking him- 
 self, and turning the conversation into less 
 dangerous paths during the remainder of the 
 walk. 
 
 'Etta was really fond of Sybil. She did 
 not care the least in the world for Hum-
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 135 
 
 phrey, and was therefore not at all inclined 
 to be jealous of her ex-governess ; and 
 being, like every woman, a *' niatchmaker" 
 at heart, she returned home by no means 
 dissatisfied with her first essay.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Humphrey left Kelvedon that day at half 
 past three, and the Crackenbury party 
 arrived about fLve. "When Sybil went 
 upstairs to her room to take off her bonnet, 
 there was a knock at the door and 'Etta 
 came in. 
 
 " ]\Ir. Perceval was sorry not to see you to 
 say good-bye, but he gave me this note for 
 you before he went." 
 
 "What! is he gone?" said Sybil, her 
 colour leaving her cheeks, and then rushing 
 back in a hot blush. 
 
 "Yes,'' said 'Etta, quietly, "he left at 
 half past three. It seems it was always
 
 BE Any G 7-^ a:?.. 
 
 131 
 
 ananged tl - - - 
 
 — .-- 
 
 kM^tiicd, .^ . 
 
 - _ 
 
 iq> a cur :f tea ? "^ 
 
 
 ^'N.: :=. d--^^--- It 
 
 - 
 
 km^dnv^E — _ 
 
 
 I -„ :. — . 
 
 _ - _ -^ 
 
 any. 
 
 'Etta niideist<»i, and gave Iier a kiss, and 
 left Ler to read the following leuen 
 
 ''My D£jkK Mbs Maowasisc, 
 
 ''I am Tery Sony to InTetolesve 
 Kehredon wi&out saying good^iye to job. 
 The tnne has flown 90 fast in your coHqiMiy; 
 that I had fagottm tibat Ube daj fixed 
 £h' my going away was so neaoi; and wken I 
 locked for yoa this morning to tdl jon &it 
 it had azTLTed, I foond yon had g«!e • ~^ ^ r 
 Ae day ; and I had to eontf ~ t in 
 leTiving feasant mcmoffiesii- _^ ^ 
 
 Miss Osbome. 
 
 ^' I h(^ we may me^ agvBi aoon, not
 
 138 BE AUNG THE AIR. 
 
 merely to repair the omission of saying 
 good-bye to-day ; I hope I may have some- 
 thing more interesting to say to you. 
 Perhaps I might have even found something 
 to say to-day, had you not flown ofi" with 
 that singularly uninteresting Mrs. Beech, and 
 left me behind — like Lord Ullin's daughter — 
 lamenting ! I hope when you next come up 
 to London either to see your own people or 
 with the Osbornes, you will let me know. 
 Meanwhile, I fear I have nothing better to 
 do than to sign myself 
 
 ''Very truly yours, 
 
 '' Humphrey Perceval. 
 
 " 17, Queen Street, Mayfair." 
 
 Sybil read the letter over twice, she then 
 folded it carefully up and put it away in her 
 desk, took it out again, re-opened it and read 
 it once more. What might he have said ? 
 Will he ever say it? And shall we ever 
 meet again ? Sybil pleaded a sudden head-
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 139 
 
 ache, and remained in her room for the rest 
 of the evening. 
 
 She had need of quiet and solitude to 
 think over her present position. She must 
 ask herself some home questions, and not 
 shrink from the answer. Was she in love 
 with Humphrey Perceval? Yes. Did he 
 care for her? She thought so. Had she 
 any right to think so ? His letter said 
 nothing. He might be merely flirting 
 with her ? She did not think he would do 
 that. 
 
 But was his love honourable? or the 
 contrary? The very thought pierced her 
 like a knife. "What might not be the love 
 of a guardsman for a governess ? 
 
 No ! she could not, she would not be- 
 lieve it. If Humphrey in a few days had 
 stolen her heart, he had at least left her 
 in exchange a feeling of respect as well as 
 of love for himself. But had she any right 
 to love him ? Was not she a penniless girl,
 
 140 BEATIXG THE AIR. 
 
 and was not lie to be a rich baronet some day? 
 "Would not liis great relations say that slie 
 had '* caught '' him ; that he had been caught 
 by a governess, who ought to have been 
 looking after her pupils ? And had she 
 neglected her charge '? Would j\Irs. Osborne 
 be quite pleased if she knew what had been 
 going on ? 
 
 And had she been quite doing her 
 duty to her 1 It was ver}" difficult to find 
 satisfactory answers to many of these 
 questions, and poor Sybil was compelled 
 to have recourse to a flood of tears. Her 
 sobs would have softened a much harder and 
 less sympathetic heart than Humphrey's, had 
 he been at hand, but they had no effect 
 upon poor Sybil's confidant and confessor — 
 " the man within the breast " — that pure 
 and true conscience, that moral sense, which 
 gave such uncompromising answers to the 
 questionings of her heart. So she made up 
 her mind that she must send no answer to
 
 BEATIXG THE AIR. 141 
 
 Mr. Perceval's letter, and that she must do 
 her best to forget the writer. The last 
 would be of course impossible. The former 
 might be done. So she took out the letter 
 again, and reading it over to the last words 
 as if she had never rea^l it before, remarked 
 as if for the first time: — '* 17, Queen 
 Street, May fair.' "He evidently means 
 me to answer the letter, for although he 
 wrote it here, he gives me his London 
 address. It would l^e very rude not to 
 send him some reply." 
 
 So she got out her writing desk and 
 began with her best pen : — '*' Dear Mr. 
 Perceval," and not knowiag quite what 
 to say next, began thinking again as 
 she had thought before, and ended by 
 tearing up the sheet of paper, throwing down 
 the best pen, and having another "good 
 
 cry." 
 
 And so Sybil carried out the first article
 
 142 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 of her resolution, and did not write to 
 Humplirey Perceval ; and so she carried out 
 the second article by thinking of him all day 
 and a good part of the night, inasmuch as 
 she kept the intention she had arrived at, of 
 forgetting him as speedily as possible, 
 continually before her mind. So passed 
 a week, two weeks, part of a third, when 
 the following letter arrived: — 
 
 ''My dear Miss Mainwaring, 
 
 "I wrote you a hurried line the 
 day I left Kelvedon, partly to apologise for 
 my seeming rudeness in leaving Kelvedon 
 without saying good-bye to you, and 
 thanking you for your very great share in 
 making my visit as pleasant as it was. 
 Possibly Miss Osborne forgot to give you 
 the letter, or you did not think it worth 
 while to answer it ; but I should be very 
 glad to hear that you were well, and have 
 not been falling into any more lakes in my
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 143 
 
 absence. I sincerely hope, at any rate, we 
 may soon meet again, and that an acquaint- 
 ance so romantically begun and so pleasantly 
 carried on — at least as far as I am concerned 
 — should not be ended as suddenly as it was 
 commenced. It only remains for you to say 
 you do not wish to end it with cold water, 
 I shall be with my regiment in To^vn for 
 some months to come. 
 
 ''Very truly yours, 
 
 "Humphrey Perceval. 
 
 " 17, Queen Street, Mayfair." 
 
 It was quite evident that the letter must 
 be answered; even the " Confidant and Con- 
 fessor " agreed. But what was she to say ? 
 After much thought, and one or two failures, 
 she dispatched the following : — 
 
 '* Dear Mr. Perceval, 
 
 '^ I must apologise for not having 
 answered your first letter, which was given
 
 144 BEAIING THE AIB. 
 
 to me by Miss Osborne. I was surprised 
 
 when I returned from Crackenbury to find 
 
 you had gone, and I am sorry that if you 
 
 wished to say good-bye to me, I should have 
 
 been out on the day you left. It is very 
 
 kind of you to say that I had anything to do 
 
 with your having a pleasant visit at Kelvedon. 
 
 I am sure I enjoyed the walks you were good 
 
 enough to take with us very much, and ^Etta 
 
 and 'Diny did so too. I hope we may meet 
 
 again some day. Mrs. Osborne generally 
 
 goes up to Town for a short time before 
 
 Christmas. 
 
 " Truly yours, 
 
 "Sybil Mainwaring." 
 
 Sybil dared not say more, she could not 
 say less ; and agitated with the conflicting 
 thou2[hts that the letter was too forward or 
 too cold, she would have recalled it half-a- 
 dozen times after it was safe on its way to 
 London.
 
 BEATING THE AIM. 145 
 
 But slie faithfully kept her second resolu- 
 tion, and never allowed the necessity of 
 forgetting Humphrey Perceval to be absent 
 from her mind.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Humphrey had gone straight back to 
 London from Kelvcdon, and was now on duty 
 with his regiment. More to please his father 
 than from any wish of his own he had gone 
 much into society, but he found it insipid 
 without Sybil, and time and absence seemed 
 rather to increase than diminish his passion. 
 
 At length he resolved to speak to his father 
 upon the subject, and so he told him all. 
 
 ** You will be as rich as anyone need want 
 to be some day, my dear boy, and you may 
 certainly please yourself in your choice of a 
 wife, especially as you say she is a lady, A 
 governess does not certainly sound well, if it
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 147 
 
 were only that you can have so little oppor- 
 tunity of really making her acquaintance 
 before you marry her. The amount of in- 
 timacy which would be natural, and easily 
 accomplished with a girl in your own station, 
 would be scarcely possible with one in a de- 
 pendent position/' 
 
 " But you have no idea how much I saw 
 of her at Kelvedon ; and as to station she is 
 of quite as good family as we are." 
 
 Mr. Perceval did not much like the idea 
 of Humphrey having seen so much of the 
 young lady at Kelvedon ; he fancied a trap 
 had been laid for his son by an artful and 
 designing woman. 
 
 '' How old is she ? " said he. 
 
 " About twenty, I should think.'' 
 
 '^Pretty?" 
 
 *' Very pretty ! but quiet and simple in 
 her dress and manners ; rather retiring, and, 
 above all, a thorough lady." 
 
 Mr. Perceval was a little reassured. 
 
 L 2
 
 148 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 " AVould it not be as well to make in- 
 quiries about her people, especially about 
 this brother you speak of ? Have you looked 
 them up in the ' Landed Gentry ? ' " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 Humphrey would "look them up" at the 
 club the next day, and make any further 
 inquiries when he had done so. 
 
 The next morning Humphrey flew to the 
 club and seized upon the book of names, 
 which happened to be an edition a few years 
 old, and turning over the pages rapidly until 
 he came to ' Mainwaring,' read as follows : — 
 
 "Mainwaring, James, Esq., only son of 
 Thomas Mainwaring, Esq., of Northshirc, 
 who represented Northshire in Parliament, 
 1798—1810 : born 1800, m. 1836 Adela, 
 only daughter of William Blackwood, Esq., 
 •^of the city of London (she died 1843), and 
 has issue : 
 
 "Thomas, b. 1837, Cornet 4th Eoyal
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 149 
 
 Lancers; Harold, b. 1839, Ensign 2nd Batt. 
 26th Regt. ; Sybil/' 
 
 ''Fourth Lancers/' thought Humphrey. 
 " Why, Pratt, whom I saw yesterday, used 
 to be in the 4th. I must ask him. I won- 
 der which is the one in America ? Of course 
 he must have left the army." 
 
 He turned to the ''Army List " and found 
 that both the 4th and the 2-2 6th were 
 " serving in Bengal." The name of Harold 
 Mainwaring appeared as senior ensign of 
 the latter regiment. There was no Main- 
 waring in the 4th. 
 
 At that moment Captain Pratt entered 
 the room. Humphrey turned. 
 
 "Ah, my dear fellow! the very man I 
 was looking for." 
 
 "What, did you think you would find 
 what part of Town I was in by looking in 
 the ' Army List '? ' " said the other, seeing 
 the book in Humphrey's hand.
 
 150 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 " No ! but joking apart, did you know 
 a fellow called Mainwaring, wken you were 
 in the 4tli ? " 
 
 Captain Pratt's face immediately became 
 serious enough. 
 
 '* Mainwaring ! should rather think I did. 
 You don't mean to say you've seen him '' 
 — said he hastily. 
 
 " Seen him, oh no ; but I want to know 
 
 something about him. The fact is '' 
 
 and Humphrey stopped, not knowing quite 
 what to say the fact was, and seeing 
 Captain Pratt's usually gay face become 
 overcast. 
 
 " "Well, I hope you have nothing to do 
 with him and never will have, but as you 
 ask me the question, I will only ask you in 
 reply, do you really want to know ? " 
 
 ''I do," said Humphrey, equally gravely. 
 
 "Well," said the other, *'He is a most 
 infernal blackguard. He swindled some 
 fellows in our regiment. The thing was
 
 BEATING THE Alli. 151 
 
 hushed up and he was allowed to sell ; 
 almost a pity. Something about a bill. 
 Forgery ! " said Pratt, sinking his voice 
 almost to a whisper. " His governor came 
 up and paid everything, and the young 
 fellow was shipped off to America " 
 
 *' To America ? '' said Humphrey. 
 
 *' On the understanding that he was to be 
 let alone if he never returned. Now you 
 know why I asked you if you had seen him." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I merely wanted to know 
 because " 
 
 Humphrey again hesitated. 
 
 "My dear fellow," said Pratt, "I do not 
 the least want to know why you asked. 
 Only now you know all I do. I believe the 
 man has a brother — not a bad little fellow — 
 in the 26th — went to India — best thing he 
 could do. By the way, are you going out 
 of town at Christmas ? " 
 
 And after a little commonplace conversa- 
 tion, Humphrey left the club.
 
 162 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 He was mucli shocked. Could he marry 
 the sister of a man who might be a felon ! 
 But after all it was not Sybil's fault. Indeed 
 it was her misfortune, and she needed a pro- 
 tector and a sympathiser all the more. So 
 long before Humphrey reached home he 
 had made up his mind that he would have 
 Sybil, in spite of the crimes of a whole 
 regiment of brothers. But he thought his 
 father might not be so easily convinced. 
 Nor was he ; but in the end he contented 
 himself with preaching patience and formally 
 gave his consent. 
 
 After all, a house without a woman was a 
 very cheerless afifair, and if Sybil was only 
 half what Humphrey painted her, she would 
 not only make Humphrey happy, but make 
 a pleasant home for Mr. Perceval's declining 
 years. There is a tinge of selfishness in our 
 least selfish thoughts — in our most disin- 
 terested actions. If it be L'amour, Vamour, 
 V amour, qui fait le monde a la ronde, it is
 
 BEATING THE AIR, 153 
 
 Selfishness that prevents it going round too 
 fast. 
 
 That night Humphrey sat down and 
 wrote the following letter : — 
 
 '' My dearest Miss Mainwaring, 
 
 " I am only too sensible that the 
 request I am about to make to you may 
 seem somewhat sudden ; but believe me, it 
 is only made after full and — to me — long- 
 consideration, and a determination that it is 
 necessary at least for my own happiness — as 
 I hope and pray it may be for yours — and the 
 request is that you will consent to become 
 my wife. I saw quite enough of you during 
 that brief but happy week at Kelvedon to 
 convince me that I could love no other 
 than you, and time and absence have only 
 strengthened that conviction. But kind as 
 you always were to me upon that occasion, 
 I cannot but fear that you may think you 
 have not seen enough of me to know whether
 
 15i BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 I am worthy of you ; if this is so, I hope 
 you will allow me in some way to become 
 better known to you before you give your 
 final answer. Above all, I implore you to 
 let no false delicacy induce you to refuse my 
 suit. I am writing this letter with the 
 fullest consent of my father, and if I have 
 means at present to support us both with 
 comfort, and expectations of being able to do 
 so at some future time with luxury, I hope 
 you will not allow the accident of your 
 having a smaller portion than usually falls 
 to the lot of young ladies of your birth and 
 connection, to interfere with — may I say 
 your happiness, certainly with that of one 
 who loves you as well as I do. The unfor- 
 tunate story of your eldest brother I have 
 heard. We need never refer to it : and I 
 shall look forward to the pleasure of making 
 the acquaintance of your younger brother on 
 ]iis return from India. You have nothing 
 to do but telegraph in reply to me the one
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 155 
 
 word Yes. I shall be in a fever until I get 
 your answer. I will provide for no other 
 contingency, and remain 
 
 ** Ever your truly loving 
 
 " Humphrey." 
 
 This letter could not be posted till the 
 next day, and Humphrey had two very 
 sleepless nights. The day after, he was in 
 a fidget from cock-crow, and expected a 
 telegram before breakfast. Considering the 
 letter would not be received by Miss Main- 
 waring until nine o'clock, and that she could 
 not be expected to make up her mind in 
 five minutes, and that it was three miles to 
 the telegraph office, and that it was always 
 difficult to get a messenger in so perfect an 
 establishment as Kelvedon — where every one 
 had exactly his own work to do, it seemed 
 more likely that if Miss Mainwaring tele- 
 graphed at all, the message would scarcely 
 arrive much before dinner-time, She might
 
 156 BEATIXG THE AIR. 
 
 not like to telegraph. She might not like to 
 say '' Yes " direct. Some ifs ; or she might 
 not wish to telegraph *' No.'' In fact dozens 
 of things might happen to prevent her 
 telegraphing. 
 
 All these, and many more which never 
 could have happened, occupied Humphrey's 
 brain the whole morning. He tried to 
 read. His eyes rested on the type. He 
 even turned over the leaves. Yet he did 
 not take in a sinole word. The Look mig^ht 
 have been Avritten in Spanish. 
 
 At every knock at the door, every ring at 
 the bell, he jumped up and looked out. He 
 had taken up his position at the dining- 
 room window ; and no one who has not sat at 
 the dining-room window of a house in a 
 London street for four or five hours at a 
 stretch can have any idea of the number of 
 people who come to the door ; to say nothing 
 of the thousand and one people and things 
 which pass by, aud attract the attention of
 
 BEATIXG THE AIE. 157 
 
 those who are watching like Humphrer. 
 The butcher, the baker, the grocer, coak, 
 beer, " the man about the gas," the green- 
 grocer, the poulterer, " Bottles,'* " Hare-skins 
 and rabbit-skins/' half-a-dozen barrel-organs, 
 a German band, a " man who calls with his 
 little account," a friend of the butler, a man 
 with lamp oil, books from the library, a foot- 
 man, in powdered hair and a short round 
 blue pilot-jacket and a pot hat, with a note, 
 the fishmonger, two or three men distribu- 
 ting circulars, the postman with his sharp 
 rat-tat, the policeman with his measured 
 tread, a man from the tailor with some 
 clothes for Humphrey — all these severally 
 demanded the watcher's notice and attention 
 by representing themselves to his higrhly 
 strung nerves to be bearers of a telegram 
 from his lady-love, nntil they showed them- 
 selves in their true and detestable colours to 
 his disappointed mind. The suspense was 
 rapidly becoming too much
 
 156 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 not like to telegraph. She might not like to 
 say '^ Yes " direct. Some ifs ; or she might 
 not wish to telegraph '^ No." In fact dozens 
 of things might happen to prevent her 
 telegraphing. 
 
 All these, and many more which never 
 could have happened, occupied Humphrey's 
 brain the whole morning. He tried to 
 read. His eyes rested on the type. He 
 even turned over the leaves. Yet he did 
 not take in a sinoie word. The book mio;ht 
 have been written in Spanish. 
 
 At every knock at the door, every ring at 
 the bell, he jumped up and looked out. He 
 had taken up his position at the dining- 
 room window ; and no one who has not sat at 
 the dining-rooDi window of a house in a 
 London street for four or five hours at a 
 stretch can have any idea of the number of 
 people who come to the door ; to say nothing 
 of the thousand and one people and things 
 which pass by, and attract tlie attention of
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 157 
 
 those who are watching like Humphrey. 
 The butcher, the baker, the grocer, coals, 
 beer, "the man about the gas," the green- 
 grocer, the poulterer, " Bottles," '^ Hare-skins 
 and rabbit-skins," half-a-dozen barrel-organs, 
 a German band, a " man who calls with his 
 little account," a friend of the butler, a man 
 with lamp oil, books from the library, a foot- 
 man, in powdered hair and a short round 
 blue pilot-jacket and a pot hat, with a note, 
 the fishmonger, two or three men distribu- 
 ting circulars, the postman with his sharp 
 rat-tat, the policeman with his measured 
 tread, a man from the tailor with some 
 clothes for Humphrey — all these severally 
 demanded the watcher's notice and attention 
 by representing themselves to his highly 
 strung nerves to be bearers of a telegram 
 from his lady-love, until they showed them- 
 selves in their true and detestable colours to 
 his disappointed mind. The suspense was 
 rapidly becoming too much
 
 160 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 and read the telegram as carefully as if it 
 had been in Greek, and was ten lines long ; 
 but it was written in very plain' English, 
 and consisted of but one word, and that 
 word was — " Yes ^' !
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Humphrey's letter had been handed to 
 Sybil at Kelvedon by the butler after prayers, 
 but she did not open it until she was upstairs 
 again in the schoolroom. She supposed it 
 was an answer to her letter to him, and she 
 wondered what he would say. 
 
 "What he did say she had never for a 
 moment anticipated, and she did not quite 
 know whether to laugh or to cry after she 
 had read it. Humphrey Perceval really 
 loved her. Humphrey Perceval would 
 make her his wife. She could not believe 
 it. But there was no doubt that he was 
 quite serious. And so nice, and kind, and
 
 162 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 considerate a letter. And he knew all — 
 her brother's disgrace, her own poverty, all ; 
 and yet he, the brilliant young guardsman, 
 who met all the beauties and heiresses in 
 London, and was handsome enough, and nice 
 enough, and clever enough to marry whom he 
 pleased, had chosen her, the poor governess. 
 She need not spend her time any more in 
 forgetting him, and in making believe that 
 she did not love him, and that he did not 
 and could not possibly care about her. 
 
 And if she also thought just for a moment 
 how pleasant it would be to have a home 
 of her own again, and perhaps some day 
 to be Lady Perceval, it was not that her 
 love for Humphrey was one whit the less 
 pure or less disinterested, or that she would 
 have weighed these advantages in the bal- 
 ance for one moment against Humphrey 
 himself, were he as poor as Job ; but it was 
 that she was a woman after all, and not a 
 fairy; though indeed it is doubtful whether
 
 BEATING TEE AIR. 163 
 
 even a poor fairy yn^ouIcI object to be rich, or 
 an attendant spirit scorn tlie titular honours 
 of Fairyland. 
 
 But ought not a modest young lady, and 
 especially a governess, to have hesitated ? — 
 to have said " No ; impossible ! " if only 
 just for the sake of form and propriety — 
 to have asked for time, and said she would 
 think about it ? — or to have said she could 
 not conceive Avhat Mr. Perceval meant, and 
 gone off into hysterics ? Perhaps so. But 
 to tell the truth, it never occurred to Sybil 
 to do anything of the sort. 
 
 She felt much more inclined to dance 
 about the house, singing all the time, and 
 so down to the station, to take the first train 
 for London, and to rush forty miles an hour 
 into her lovers arms. A most immodest 
 proceeding surely ! What ideas for one who 
 was intrusted with the bringing up of girls ! 
 
 However, Sybil did not dance about the 
 house, but after a very few moments' con- 
 
 M 2
 
 164 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 sideration she walked — if so gross a word 
 can be used to express lier mode of progress, 
 feeling as if she were made of spiritualised 
 india-rubber — to the drawing-room, where 
 she knew she would find Mrs. Osborne. So 
 inclined was she to be pleased with every- 
 body and everything, so completely did the 
 brimming over happiness in her own mind 
 eliminate everything that was unlovely and 
 unlovable from everything it contemplated, 
 that Mrs. Osborne appeared to her, as she 
 tripped along, to be a paragon of excellence 
 and incarnation of all virtue and kindness, 
 — as a sort of second mother, who had 
 cherished her for so long a time, and to 
 whom she should now hasten to communi- 
 cate her joy. 
 
 As Sybil entered the room, Mrs. Osborne 
 had just put down a cookery l30ok, and 
 looking somewhat stern in her spectacles, 
 was turning over the leaves of Dr. Scowler's 
 third treatise on Spiritual Mortification, and
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 165 
 
 wondering how Mrs. Jellycoe could possibly 
 have been so stupid as to have let the stock 
 of truffles get so low without giving her 
 notice. She looked up coldly. 
 
 " Do you want to speak to me, Miss 
 Main waring ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have something to tell you — 
 some good news, — at least, what I hope 
 you will think good news. You have 
 always been so kind to me, and I have 
 been so happy all the time I have been at 
 Kelvedon '' 
 
 *'You don't mean to say you are going 
 to leave ! " 
 
 '* "Well — yes — I am going — to be 
 married ! " 
 
 Mrs. Osborne took off her spectacles in 
 order that she might open her eyes wider, 
 and quite frightened Sybil by the way she 
 stared at her. 
 
 "And I thought, as I have no mother, 
 and feel, as it were, at home here, that I
 
 166 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 would come and tell you first, before any- 
 one else," said Sybil, while Mrs. Osborne 
 was taking ber breath, and wondering whom 
 she could have met at Kelvedon — whether 
 it Avas the head-gardener, or the village 
 schoolmaster, or some old lover. 
 
 '*Well, Tm sure I'm veiy sorry," began 
 the lady of the house, " sorry to lose you. I 
 hope you will be in no hurry to go. Of 
 course I hope you'll be happy ; but I don't 
 think you are likely to have such a home as 
 this. You are now accustomed to a mode 
 of life which, perhaps, you may regret. I 
 hope the young man is well off ? " 
 
 **'Yes, thank you," said Sybil, quietly, 
 wondering now how she should break her 
 news. 
 
 " Have you known him long ? What's 
 his name ? " 
 
 "I'm afraid I've not known him very 
 long, and his name is Perceval — Mr. Per- 
 ceval who was staying here in August."
 
 BEATIXG THE AIR. 167 
 
 If the tiger skin which lay before the 
 fireplace had got up and wagged its tail, 
 Mrs. Osborne could not have looked more 
 astonished, as she burst forth — 
 
 " Mr. Perceval ! AMiat ! you do not mean 
 to say that . . ." and surprise and rage 
 absolutely choked her utterance. 
 
 Sybil was positively frightened. 
 
 "But how ^ . . ." 
 
 " He has written to me this mornincy 
 asking me to many him." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " ejaculated Mrs. Os- 
 borne, piously. *'And you have accepted 
 him?" 
 
 ** I mean to do so," said Sybil, quietly. 
 " I hope you do not see anything t\ rong 
 in it. I thought you would be glad to 
 hear." 
 
 '•' Done wrong ! — glad to hear ! '" shrieked 
 Mrs. Osborne. *' Done wrong to carry on 
 an intrigue with one of your mistress's 
 guests under her verv roof, to take advan-
 
 168 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 tage of your position, and of the confidence 
 ■\vliicli was reposed in you, to inveigle a 
 young man who might have married one of 
 the daughters of the house, into a mesal- 
 liance with yourself"? — done wrong to cor- 
 rupt my dear girls' minds with your artful 
 practices, and to deceive me with your 
 soft, hypocritical ways ? Done wrong, 
 indeed!" 
 
 '' JMrs. Osborne," Sybil began. 
 
 " Glad to hear, indeed ! " interrupted Mrs. 
 Osborne ; " glad to hear that you have 
 
 caught a young guardsman and " the 
 
 very thought becoming too much for Mrs. 
 Osborne, she laughed hysterically as she 
 said, "the heir to a baronetcy ; you, with a 
 brother in jail, and who might have been 
 in the workhouse yourself, or worse, if I 
 had not taken you without a character, 
 without any character, and treated you 
 here in a way that few governesses were 
 ever treated ? This is your gratitude ! "
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 169 
 
 Sybil was standing all this time as much 
 astonished at the first outburst as Mrs. 
 Osborne had been at her own news, and 
 waiting for an opportunity of getting a 
 word in. At last she did. 
 
 " I don't know what to say. I don't 
 know how I can have offended you. I 
 tliink I had better go away until we both 
 are calmer." 
 
 " Calmer ! " burst forth Mrs. Osborne, 
 " ^vhat do you mean by calmer ? It would 
 be wicked, positively wicked, in me to 
 be calm after what I have heard. Have 
 you never heard of righteous indignation \ 
 Never will I spare the wicked," said the 
 good lady, as though she were a sort of 
 destroying angel (unattached), "or allow 
 sin in my house to go unchastised, as long 
 I can lift up my feeble voice," and here 
 Mrs. Osborne screamed louder than ever, " in 
 defence of what is right.'' 
 
 Sybil was rapidly debating in her own
 
 170 BEATING TEE AIB. 
 
 mind, by this time, wliether she sliould take 
 up the nearest book — which happened to be 
 "Scowler on Spiritual Mortification" — and 
 throw it at Mrs. Osborne, or whether she 
 should attack her with that still more deadly- 
 weapon, the tongue ; but she finally decided 
 to do neither, and, making a low curtsey, 
 just a little lower, I fear, than was neces- 
 sary or warranted by the most perfect 
 Christian charity, — walked out of the room, 
 Mrs. Osborne being, as the Parliamentary 
 reporters say when Mr. Biggar is on his 
 legs at three o'clock in the morning, *4eft 
 speaking." 
 
 Sybil v»^ent at once to her room, feeling 
 choking and sick at heart, and walked along 
 the passages as though leaden clogs were 
 tied to her feet. She was at a loss at once 
 to understand the full import of Mrs. 
 Osborne's rage, but her mind was clearly 
 made up as to what she ought to do. First 
 of all by way of cheering and strengthen-
 
 BEATING THE AIR. ITI 
 
 ino; herself, she sat down and indited the 
 telegram which we have already seen, and 
 rano- the bell. The schoolroom maid ap- 
 peared. 
 
 **Will you ask Mr. Strangeways if any 
 one is going into Hornby this morning, and 
 if so, to be good enough to send this tele- 
 gram ? " — she had enclosed it in an envelope, 
 directed to the telegraph clerk,—" here is the 
 money." 
 
 "Yes, Miss." 
 
 She then sat down and wrote the fol- 
 lowing letter. 
 
 "Dear Mks. Osborne, 
 
 " AlthouQ-h I am at a loss to under- 
 stand the meaning of your reception of me 
 this morning, I am sure it would be pleasanter 
 for both of us, after what has passed, that I 
 should leave the house as soon as possible, 
 as my continuance here would only be 
 disagreeable to you, and painful to myself.
 
 172 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 I therefore, as a last favour, beg your per- 
 mission to leave this afternoon. 
 
 *' Faithfully yours, 
 
 " Sybil Mainwaring." 
 
 This note, duly folded and addressed, was 
 delivered to Mrs. Osborne in her husband's 
 study. 
 
 As Sybil had left the drawing-room, Mrs. 
 Osborne's rage had grown more violent than 
 ever, and as she could not 2:0 on talkino- in 
 the absence of the offender, she actually 
 panted and foamed for want of an outlet. 
 She was indignant with Sybil, of course, for 
 her share in the transaction, but she was also 
 indignant with Humphrey for neglecting her 
 daughter and carrying away her governess, 
 with Henrietta for allowing herself to be 
 slighted, with 'Diny for not looking more 
 sharply after Miss Mainwaring, with her 
 husband for not looking more sharply after 
 Humphrey, and worst and bitterest indigna-
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 173 
 
 tion of all, she was indignant witli herself, 
 first, for allowing such a scandal to take place 
 in her house — under her very nose, secondly, 
 for having so far forgotten herself as to give 
 way before a governess, and show to one, who 
 was now a successful enemy, the full extent 
 and bitterness of her success. Finally, she 
 was decidedly indignant with Providence — 
 which ought really to have managed things 
 a little more considerately for the pious 
 mistress of Kelvedon Hall. If she had 
 required humbling, as ive all do need it, 
 Providence might have managed the thing 
 in a quieter way, and not caused her to lose 
 'Diny's governess and Henrietta's hon jparti 
 and her own temper all at once ; and, above 
 all, that artful little minx Miss Mainwaring 
 should never have been allowed to have 
 things so completely her own way. There 
 was clearly something wrong. Providence 
 was napping. And Mrs. Osborne, feeling a 
 little calmer, thought she would " go and see
 
 174 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 what her husband thought about it," a euphe- 
 mistic expression common to married ladies, 
 signifying that they will impart their own 
 very decided ideas upon the subject to the 
 partner of their joys — and sorrows. 
 
 Mr. Osborne was much too sensible a man 
 to have views of his own about governesses, 
 and though he did not quite see the enor- 
 mity of the offence committed, he said, *'Yes," 
 " Certainly,'' '' Ah, really," in the course of his 
 wife's story, to such an extent as to enable 
 her to say to herself, and if necessary to 
 other people, that "Mr. Osborne was even 
 more shocked than she was, and entirely 
 ao-reed with all her views on the subject." 
 
 " She must go at once," said the lady. 
 
 " Oh, of course." 
 
 "I will write to her now, for I do not 
 want to see her again." 
 
 " By all means." 
 
 " You must let me have a cheque for her 
 wages. '
 
 BEATING TBE AIR. 175 
 
 '' Certainl^r." 
 
 So ]\Irs. Osborne sat down there and then, 
 and wrote as follows : — 
 
 "Mrs. Osborne is of opinion that Miss 
 Mainwaring's conduct leaves her no option 
 in the matter but that of requesting that she 
 will at once leave the house. A carriaere 
 will be in readiness to convey her to the 
 four clock train to London, where Mrs. 
 Osborne presumes she will go ! Until she 
 starts, ]\Irs. Osborne begs that she will hold 
 no communication with her daughters, nor 
 does she wish to see her again herself. The 
 enclosed cheque will satisfy all that is due 
 to Miss Mainwaring for her services at 
 Kelvedon. Mrs. Osborne feels it quite 
 unnecessary, but perhaps right, to say that 
 Mr. Osborne entirely concurs with Mrs. 
 Osborne, both as to the nature of Miss 
 Mainwaring's conduct, and the necessity of 
 her immediately leaving Kelvedon." 
 
 Mr. Osborne had read over this composi-
 
 176 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 tion, and was engaged in writing out a 
 clieque for the amount due, wlien tlie butler 
 came in and handed to Mrs. Osborne Sybil's 
 own letter. ''Like her impudence/' she ejacu- 
 lated, when she had read it. "Pleasanter 
 for both of us that we should part as soon as 
 possible." " Both of us indeed ! I have a 
 great mind to say she shall not go until the 
 end of her quarter. We can insist upon a 
 quarter's notice, can't we, John ? " 
 
 ''No, my dear, only a month." 
 
 " Well, no matter : a month. But shall 
 we send our letter ? — No — Yes, stay I think 
 so — Yes ! Send it at once, and then we 
 shall not l)c obli!:>;ed to answer her at all ! " 
 Mr. Osborne hurriedly signed the cheque, 
 and the missive was duly enveloped and 
 dispatched by ]\Ir. Strangeways, resum- 
 moned for the purpose. 'Diny and 'Etta 
 were in the schoolroom with Sybil when it 
 was delivered to her, hearing with amazed 
 faces that she was going to leave Kelvedon.
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 177 
 
 On reading Mrs. Osborne's letter, she said 
 quietly; "My darling girls, your mother 
 wishes me to leave the house at once, and 
 not to see you again before I go. I am sure 
 she judges me harshly, and some day she 
 will think better of it ; however, as long 
 as I am in her house, I must obey her 
 orders, and, as far as I can, see that you 
 do so too ; so come, give me a kiss, and 
 et me run upstairs and pack, and let us 
 hope we may meet again soon. Don't cry," 
 said Sybil, her own eyes bursting with 
 big tears, "I shall soon l)e ver}' happy, I 
 hope. I am going to be married to Mr. 
 Perceval." 
 
 The girls sprang into her aims. 
 
 •' Oh, my darling Mannie, I am sure you 
 will be happy wherever you go, but we shall 
 be so miserable without you. AVhat does 
 mamma mean ? '' 
 
 " Come my darlings, you must go." 
 
 She had barely disengaged herself from
 
 178 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 their embrace, when Mr. Strangeways 
 entered with the message, ^^Mrs. Osborne 
 wishes to see ^liss Osborne and Miss 
 Geraldine at once." 
 
 They tore themselves away weeping, and 
 Syl-iil, who had far too much to do to permit 
 herself the luxury of a good cry, went up to 
 her room, and busied herself in packing up 
 her clothes and her few little household 
 gods. In less than two hours all was 
 ready, and she ate a solitary mouthful of 
 luncheon, brought up by the gaping, won- 
 dering schoolroom maid. 
 
 The Servants' hall was still in ignorance 
 of the state of affairs ; but the Housekeeper's 
 room discussed nothing else during dinner. 
 At the conclusion of that select meal, Mr. 
 Strangeways ordered the usher to bring 
 down Miss Mainwaring's boxes, and the 
 interest became general ; the schoolroom 
 maid immediately repairing to Sybil's room 
 to know " if she wanted anything ? " ; but
 
 BEATING TEE AIR. 179 
 
 the interest culminated in absolute excite- 
 ment, when it was announced that a car- 
 riage had been ordered to take ^liss Main- 
 waring and her luggage to the station. 
 Then everybody felt that they were living 
 in exciting times, and the coachman, who 
 on receiviuo; the order had at first hesitated 
 to believe it, had, when solemnly reassured 
 as to its correctness by Mr. Strangeways, 
 declared that " he had never heard of such 
 a think, no, not since he had been at 
 Kelvedon!'' As the coachman, however, 
 did not actually refuse to perform the duty, 
 Sybil was duly driven to the station, and 
 having taken her ticket, found herself at 
 four o'clock on the most eventful day 
 of her life, seated in the up-express to 
 London. 
 
 The news of her sudden departure spread 
 rapidly through the house, and then into 
 the village, and among the neighbouring 
 squires' houses ; and the day but one after.
 
 180 BEATING THE AIM. 
 
 a kind neiorhbour called on ]\Irs. Osborne to 
 condole. 
 
 But Mrs. Osborne astonished her. That 
 excellent lady considered the wisdom of the 
 serpent quite as necessary for a truly Christian 
 woman as the harmlessness of the dove, and 
 thinking it highly incumbent upon one 
 ''called" like herself to fill so eminent a 
 position in this world, not to give occasion 
 to the enemies of godliness to blaspheme, 
 had carefully considered what attitude it 
 would be best to adopt towards society with 
 regard to Sybil's marriage and al>rupt de- 
 parture. There are very few greater or 
 more saintly social pleasures than that of 
 turning the tables upon a would-be sympa- 
 thizer, and Mrs. Horner found the mistress 
 of Kelvedon quite ready for her, ready loaded 
 and shotted in fact, and only waiting to be 
 fired. And poor stupid Mrs. Horner pulled 
 the string ; and poking her nose into the 
 muzzle, like the monkey in the story, to
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 181 
 
 see the explosion, was blown to pieces by 
 the discharge. 
 
 " Tm so sorry to hear of the trouble you've 
 had lately," said she, in the sweetest of 
 voices. 
 
 " You're very kind, but it's of no great 
 moment. They were very valuable it's true, 
 but we can easily replace them." 
 
 " What ? " said Mrs. Horner, quite thrown 
 oflf her guard. 
 
 " Why, I thought you were alluding to 
 those Australian cygnets that were stolen oflf 
 the lake : the head-keeper thinks it was one 
 of your men ; and that's why I thought you 
 spoke of it ; but it's not the least matter." 
 
 " Oh, I never heard about the cygnets ; 
 and I'm sure it couldn't have been either, 
 that is to say any, of our men ; I was think- 
 ing of your trouble about Miss Mainwaring," 
 said Mrs. Horner, returning to the charge. 
 
 '' Oh ! you are very kind to call it trouble. 
 Of course we were rather distressed to lose
 
 182 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 her. It is so difficult to get a perfect lady 
 for a governess, and I could not tliink of 
 having any one else for my girls/' 
 
 " Oh, of course not," said Mrs. Horner, 
 whose father had kept a grocer's shop in 
 Bristol, and who had been married for her 
 money by a poor squire in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 " Indeed, it is so difficult to find perfect 
 ladies anywhere now," said Mrs. Osborne, 
 determined not to spare her antagonist ; 
 " society is getting so mixed." 
 
 " Dreadfully mixed," said Mrs. Horner, 
 shaking her head in the great sadness, and 
 possibly thinking of her father's sugar. 
 
 There was a slight pause, when jioor 
 Mrs. Horner said once more with a sort of 
 gulp, " So you like the match ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! it is not exactly the kind of 
 match I should wish for my own daughter 
 you know, but he is a very pleasant young 
 man, and very well connected. In the
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 183 
 
 Guards, I think, and pretty well off. He 
 will not be able to keep liis wife in quite 
 the Ksame style as she has been accustomed 
 to here, Imt of course one could not expect 
 that ; and he has very good expectations. 
 Indeed I believe he is heir presumptive to 
 a baronetcy. But only heir presumptive, 
 you know," she added apologetically, as if a 
 Kelvedon governess had a right to a full- 
 blown baronet at the very least ; and that it 
 was on the whole rather a piece of conde- 
 scension on Sybil's part to leave such a 
 home as Kelvedon for a mere Guardsman 
 with expectations. 
 
 The ungodly, it is true, may sometimes 
 flourish like a green bay tree ; but it is a 
 source of true joy to a pious soul to see 
 them cut down, dried up, and withered. 
 And such a holy joy filled good Mrs. 
 Osborne's breast as Mrs. Horner rose to take 
 her leave that day ; and she herself, with 
 the sweetest smile, hoping she was not tired
 
 184 BEATING TEE AIR. 
 
 with having walked so far, rang the bell 
 to summon Mr. Strangeways and two tall 
 footmen to open the hall door, and stand 
 solemnly at attention to stare at Mrs. Horner 
 as she tucked up her skirts in the porch.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Sybil's way to London lay or ratlier 
 ran through Rugby ; and the train, after 
 leaving that important station, accelerated 
 its pace, and went smoothly bowling along 
 towards the metropolis at the rate of five- 
 and-forty or fifty miles an hour. Her 
 spirits rose as she got farther and farther 
 from Kelvedon, and nearer and nearer Lon- 
 don, and though she did not know what she 
 would do, or how she would do it, or even 
 where she would go when she arrived, 
 she knew that Humphrey was there — Hum- 
 phrey who loved her, and had a right to 
 be her protector, and she felt perfectly
 
 186 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 hRp-pj. And there was something exhil- 
 arating in the very motion of the train, 
 spinning along so smoothly and so swiftly 
 through the crisp evening air : shooting 
 under biidges with a short roar, and rushing 
 throus^h the well-liorhted stations with a flash 
 and a rattle and a shriek, now deep in the 
 bowels of tlie earth under Edge Hill, or going 
 on its easy way through Tring cutting, and 
 seeming to quicken its pace defiantly as it 
 dashed through big stations like Wolverton 
 or Bletchley. 
 
 On, on it flies, stopping nowhere, never 
 looking back, smooth as a serpent, powerful 
 as a drove of wild oxen, licking up huge 
 draughts of water with its iron tongue as it 
 sped along its iron way. On, on, without a 
 Present, rushing away, like Life, from its Past 
 to its Future, inexorable as Fate, triumph- 
 ing over Nature, annihilating space, laughing 
 at distance, never seeming to slacken speed, 
 but always to go faster — faster ; now rocking
 
 BXATT^G THE 4TR. Sefl 
 
 tiian eT&,zBd as aBOoAJ^as a kesli^ m ^ 
 sweep. And Sy^kTs psbe lieai 
 
 mind whsKt to da. We 
 
 Mky inOes an lioor, tliaa whea. we are 
 a a uMieiii ig aio^ at liiieeJ Siie eoaid Bot 
 
 ■ot fii[e togo to 
 
 at tall o*doek at ns^ ^e wodhi §» 
 
 tke Station Hotel, wnto to ]lbL 
 
 ami TTuMifai j^ aad do whiiir^gr tkev 
 
 An^kt te^ tfe Ast dx]^. ^e 
 
 iBQiidk csDcifexd. to trfcTaV xe^r 
 
 IksI wedUL be. Z 
 
 WEa4 a day! _t5 : w&at
 
 188 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 been a quiet goveruess in a quiet family, 
 and without prospects of any sort. Within 
 twelve hours she had been proposed to by 
 Humphrey, insulted and discharged by ]\Irs. 
 Osborne, driven to the station in one of Mr. 
 Osborne's carriages; and here she was an 
 engaged young lady, alone in a first-class 
 carriage at nine o'clock at night, following 
 up the briefest and most important telegram 
 she had ever sent in her life, dashing across 
 England at the rate of fifty miles an hour. 
 What cared she that she was alone. Was 
 not Humphrey there ? What carecl she that 
 she was unexpected ? Was not Humphrey 
 ready for her 1 A roar and a rattle. Sybil 
 stared out of the window. King's Langley ! 
 A flash and a rattle, and King's Langley 
 was reckoned with the past, and so on to 
 Watford ; until Watford too was gone like a 
 phantom ; and so with Bushey, and Pinner, 
 and Harrow, and Sudbury ; and then, as in a 
 Ml, the train drew up at Willesden. Scarcely
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 189 
 
 giving itself time to breathe however, it 
 started again and after l^urrowing under 
 Primrose Hill and rattling through the land 
 of iron girders, and shooting through the 
 land of warehouses, the long train wriggled 
 like a great serpent into Euston Square 
 Station, the land of running porters and 
 entangled cabs. 
 
 " Keb, Miss ? " said Corduroy on the 
 carriage step. 
 
 '' No, thank you," said Sybil, " I want to 
 go to the hotel." 
 
 " 0-o-ote-el," cried Corduroy turning 
 abruptly; and before the train had quite 
 stopped. Boots in a scarlet jacket came up. 
 
 "Otel, Miss?'^ 
 
 *' Yes." 
 
 " Any luggage ? " 
 
 " Yes, two boxes and a bag in the van." 
 
 " Where from 1" 
 
 " From Hornby." 
 
 ^* All right."
 
 190 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 Ill a few minutes Sybil, waiting in the 
 ladies' coffee room for the supper she did 
 not want, but felt she ought to eat, wrote 
 the following letters : — 
 
 EusTON Station Hotel, 
 
 " 10 o'clock, Thursday niglit. 
 
 " I have just arrived in London. I have 
 not time or space to say why. Come and 
 see me here as soon as you get this, and you 
 shall know all ; but all is nothino; in com- 
 parison with your love and that I am ever 
 your own 
 
 " Sybil." 
 
 "EusTON Station Hotel, 
 
 "10 o'clock, Thursday niglit. 
 
 " My deapv Mrs. Pevensey, 
 
 *'You will be surprised to see the 
 address on this letter : but I can not explain 
 to you more at present than that I have 
 been forced to leave Kelvedon, and that I 
 have this moment arrived here by train.
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 191 
 
 Will yoii allow me to come and stay with 
 you, if only for a few clays, when I will 
 explain all, and tell you some good news as 
 well. I hope Mr. Pevensey is quite well. 
 Pray excuse such a short note, 
 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 " Sybil Mainwarixg." 
 
 These duly folded and posted, and the 
 supper played with rather than eaten, Sybil 
 retired to her room, to lie aw^ake till five 
 o'clock in the morning, and jump out of bed 
 about six, with the sensation of having 
 overslept herself, and feeling certain that 
 Humphrey was waiting for her downstairs. 
 As she had forgotten to wind up her watch 
 the night before, she could not be sure of the 
 time, and dressing in spite of the darkness 
 of the December morning, she had to spend 
 two weary hours waiting and wondering 
 at what o'clock Humphrey would get her 
 letter, and what he would think of it. But
 
 192 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 how would he find her when he did come ? 
 She had not thought of that. So she went 
 very timidly up to the " young lady " at the 
 bar and said: "I think a gentleman will 
 call for me some time this morning/' 
 
 The '* young lady '' directed at Sybil a 
 look of mingled scorn and reproach, when 
 Sybil happily added, " and a lady too. If 
 they ask for Miss Mainwaring, will you 
 Idndly show them in to me." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 About ten o'clock — some twenty minutes 
 after Sybil's letter had been put into his 
 hands at Queen Street, Mayfair, — Humphrey 
 appeared, and walked through the hall into 
 the ladies' cofiee-room, where Sybil was await- 
 ing him. He walked quickly up to her, and 
 with difficulty contented himself with a shake 
 of the hand, which was warm enough to 
 arouse the suspicions of the waiter. The 
 position was clearly a delicate one ; it would 
 not have done to order a private room, so
 
 BEATING TEE AIR. 193 
 
 Humphrey sat do^^Tl to JDreakfast with Sybil 
 at a retired table, and learnt all she had to tell. 
 
 His indignation at Mrs. Osborne's conduct 
 was considerably diminished by his joy at 
 having Sybil actually before him, but happy 
 as he was, he was much perplexed as to how 
 to act. He knew the world quite well 
 enough to be aware of the bnportance of 
 acting with the utmost discretion, and that 
 a single false step might endanger his wife's 
 fair fame for ever. He heard with pleasure 
 of Sybil's letter to Mrs. Pevcnscy, and decided 
 himself to call on that lady, and probably on 
 her husband, at once. Xo time was to be 
 lost. Sybil was scarcely equally aware of 
 the necessity of prompt and discreet action, 
 and rather pouted as Humphrey left her — 
 alone in the big hotel, without even saying 
 when he would return. 
 
 He drove at once to Queen Street, Maj^air, 
 and was greatly relieved to find that his 
 father had not yet gone out. He soon told
 
 194 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 him the state of aflfairs, and they set off to- 
 gether in a cab to Cambridge Crescent. Mr. 
 Pevensey was in the City. Mrs. Pevensey 
 was at home. She had written to Sybil to 
 say that she might call, and if her reasons 
 for leaving Kelvedon were satisfactory, she 
 might come and stay at Cambridge Crescent 
 until she could get another place. Hum- 
 phrey sent in his card, introduced himself 
 as the future husband of Sybil, presented 
 his father, and explained in a few words 
 Sybil's abrupt departure from Kelvedon, and 
 her arrival at Euston Square. Mrs. Pevensey 
 received the intelligence coldly, and said she 
 could do nothing until she had consulted 
 Mr. Pevensey. 
 
 Would she favour them with Mr. 
 Pevensey's address, — In the City 1 Yes, 
 she had no objection, Number 47, St. Mary 
 Axe. Plumphrey would call. He might 
 do as he liked. Would she not go and sec 
 Sybil ? No, she thouglit not, Sybil might
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 193 
 
 come and see her if she chose. She did not 
 care about calling on stray young ladies at 
 strange hotels. 
 
 Sick at heart, Humphrey left the house 
 with his father, and entering the cab again 
 drove to St. Mary Axe. Mr. Pevensey 
 received them stiffly. He thought Sybil's 
 conduct imprudent, "as a man of business, 
 most imprudent." He was not sure he ought 
 to countenance it. He had not the honour 
 of Mr. Perceval's acquaintance. Coldstream 
 Guards. Wished to know how much he had 
 a year. Any debts ? Humphrey swallowed 
 his disgust, seeing how much lay in this 
 man's power, and finally, well-seconded by 
 his father, obtained what he wanted, a letter 
 written to Sybil asking her to come and stay 
 at his house — " in the West End " — for a 
 few days. But even this precious document 
 he would not entrust to Humphrey, but 
 ostentatiously sent to the post by one of his 
 clerks before his eyes. 
 
 2
 
 19G BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 Humphrey finally asked permission to call 
 at Cambridge Crescent, wliicli was granted 
 — for the next day ! Humphrey imme- 
 diately drove to Euston Square, and told 
 Sybil all that he had done, and introduced 
 his father, who ordered luncheon in a private 
 room for the whole party. 
 
 Mr. Pevensey's letter arrived in the after- 
 noon, and Sybil at once set out for Cambridge 
 Crescent, consoled by Humphrey's assurance 
 that all was now in a fair way to be speedily 
 and satisfactorily settled, and that he hoped 
 to be able to have good news for her on the 
 morrow, when he would call by permission 
 of Mr. Pevensey. 
 
 Mr. Perceval and his son had a long and 
 anxious conversation that evening, which 
 lasted far into the night, but before they 
 retired to rest they had finally settled — First, 
 that Humphrey and Sybil had better be 
 married as soon as possible. Secondly, that 
 as settlements would cause delay, and as
 
 BEATING THE AIE. 197 
 
 Sybil had nothing to settle, they might as 
 well be married without the intervention of 
 the lawyers, and that Humphrey had better 
 immediately apply for two months' leave, get 
 a marriage licence, and leave it to Sybil to 
 say what her views were about a trousseau, 
 see if Mrs. Pevensey would allow her to be 
 married from her house, consult her as to 
 any necessary arrangements connected tliere- 
 with, and beg her and Sybil to agree upon 
 an early day for the ceremony. 
 
 Not to offend Mrs. Pevensey by a too early 
 call next day, Humphrey went and procured 
 the licence before g-oino- to Cambrido'e 
 Crescent ; but inasmuch as Mrs. Pevensey 
 refused to leave him and Sybil alone together, 
 he could only show it to her and deliver 
 himself of all his (.questions and suggestions 
 iu a most business-like way. However, Mrs. 
 Pevensey, though intensely jealous of poor 
 Sybil, and angry with her for being so happy 
 as well as for giving her so much trouble,
 
 103 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 had no wish to keep her longer than was 
 necessary ; so she made no objection to the 
 earliest possible day being fixed for the 
 marriage ; and Sybil felt sure she could get 
 all the clothes she actually wanted in a few 
 days, provided that the said clothes were not 
 to be called a trousseau. Finally that day 
 week was fixed upon for the marriage. 
 Breakfast was to be dispensed with, and they 
 were to start for Paris, via Queen Street, 
 Mayfair, immediately after the ceremony. 
 
 Mrs. Pevensey was a tall angular woman, 
 with iron-grey hair and an iron-grey dress, 
 a long iron-grey face, a sharp iron-grey 
 nose with a red tip, a cold hand encased in 
 black mittens, bony fingers with coarse red 
 tips, iron-grey nails, and an acidulated ex- 
 pression of dissatisfied resignation. She had 
 been a city heiress, and John Pevensey, who 
 was a first cousin of Sybil's mother, had 
 married her for her money, and had never 
 professed to care much about her. When
 
 BEATING THE AIM, 199 
 
 tliey had. been some five or six years married, 
 and had had no children, Mrs. Pevensey's 
 father failed for a large amount, and her 
 entire fortune, which had remained in 
 the business, was swallowed up by the 
 creditors. This accident scarcely tended to 
 increase Mr. Pevensey's affection for his 
 spouse ; and devoting himself more than 
 ever to his business to make up for all that 
 was lost, he devoted himself if possible less 
 than ever to his wife. " A good man of 
 business," hard, and growing harder every 
 day, he scarcely felt the want of affection at 
 home ; and he certainly sought no solace in 
 the iron-grey bosom of the lady who bore his 
 name. Indeed he dined out in the City and 
 elsewhere nearly every night, and though he 
 had nothing genial about him, he enjoyed 
 life in his hard way, and thought as little as 
 possible about his wife in Cambridge Cre- 
 scent. Some of his friends, indeed, affirmed 
 that he thouo;ht more about a snug: little
 
 200 BEATING THE JIB, 
 
 cottage at Higligate, where a lady wlio did 
 not bear his name, and who was anything 
 but iron-grey in her general appearance, 
 received his visits with great appearance of 
 pleasure ; but others, doubting the accuracy 
 of the information, contended that John 
 Pevensey had not a spark of the tender in 
 his composition, and maintained that if he 
 had anywhere such an establishment as was 
 hinted at, he carried the affair on quite as a 
 matter of business. 
 
 Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Mainwaring had ever 
 felt particularly attracted towards their hard 
 city cousin, still less towards his amiable 
 " lady," so that even when Sybil was sud- 
 denly thrown upon the world at her father's 
 death, the Pevenseys had not been by any 
 means pleased at having to take her in ; and 
 when they had dispatched her to Mrs. Os- 
 borne's, they considered they had more than 
 performed their duty as relations, and 
 speedily forgot her existence. To be so
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 201 
 
 rudely roused from their obliviousness was 
 exceedingly disagreeable to them both. 
 
 To Mr. Pevensey the idea of giving up a 
 good place with most unbusiness-like sudden- 
 ness, in order to marry a young officer of 
 whom they knew nothing, was absolute 
 madness. Mr. Pevensey's notion of young 
 officers in general was that of wild and 
 decidedly impecunious persons, and Hum- 
 phrey's conduct in '' running away with a 
 governess/' as he expressed it, gave him a 
 very poor idea of his common sense, and led 
 him to imagine that he should find him at 
 his office at an early day soliciting a loan of 
 money. 
 
 Having first made up his mind to refuse 
 any such application, Mr. Pevensey thought 
 the safest line of conduct was to oppose the 
 marriage in toto, and wash his hands of the 
 whole affiiir. Sybil might of course marry 
 whom she chose, but he would have nothinof 
 whatever to do witli it. In these frood reso-
 
 202 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 lutions lie was for once sympathetically 
 seconded by his wife, who was highly indig- 
 nant at Sybil having presumed to leave her 
 " situation," and to '^ receive the addresses " 
 of any young man, without first consulting 
 her, and jealous of her young lover, and 
 envious of the ha^^piness which might be in 
 store for her, — the runaway governess — and 
 which she, tbe great city heiress, had never 
 hoped and could never hope to attain. Then 
 the suddenness of the whole thing fussed 
 and irritated her. She liked things done 
 coldly and deliberately, and the very idea 
 of having anyone in the same house with 
 her who was both hurried and happy abso- 
 lutely worried her. 
 
 So it came to pass that Mr. and Mrs. 
 Pevensey would not go to the wedding, nor 
 have a breakfast, nor would her cousin give 
 Sybil away at church ; and that Sybil was 
 not allowed even to see Humphrey Perceval, 
 but was sent out by herself to purchase her
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 203 
 
 own trousseau. Her family fortune of £100, 
 which she had not touched, together with 
 what she had saved out of her own earnings 
 at Kelvedon, abundantly sufficed for her 
 modest outfit. It was a source of great joy 
 to her that she was not compelled to ask 
 Mr. Pevensey for assistance. He would 
 certainly have given her none. But it 
 was also a source of joy to find, that in 
 answer to Humphrey's delicately-worded 
 suggestion that he should be allowed to 
 make her a ''wedding present" of a com- 
 plete trousseau, she was able to say that she 
 had enough money of her very own to 
 provide all that was necessary ; whereupon 
 Humphrey sent her a ruby and diamond 
 ring, which had cost him more than all she 
 possessed in the world. 
 
 In default of meeting, the young lovers 
 wrote to each other half-a-dozen times a day, 
 until Mrs. Pevensey, who fired up at every 
 postman's knock, began to regret that she
 
 204 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 had not prohibited all correspondence, or 
 restricted the lovers to one letter a day. 
 
 Few girls about to marry the man they 
 love have perhaps ever spent the week 
 before their marriage less happily than 
 Sybil. She could not " shop " all day long ; 
 and when she was in the house, Mrs. Pevensey 
 liked her to sit in the room with her, partly 
 in order that she might not write to Hum- 
 phrey, and partly that she might assure 
 herself by ocular demonstration that slie 
 was not unbecomingly happy for a young- 
 person who had behaved so badly. And 
 then Sunday. Every week contains a 
 Sunday : so did this. And what a day it 
 was ! But it passed like other days, 
 though Sybil felt at the close that a few 
 more such days would leave her as iron- 
 grey as Mrs. Pevensey herself. Mr. 
 Pevensey came down late, in slippers, 
 dawdled over his breakfast, and yawned 
 over a Sunday paper. Mrs. Pevensey, in
 
 BE AT IX G THE AIR. 205 
 
 iron-grey silk, went to a dissenting chapel, 
 to which she insisted upon Sybil accom- 
 panying her, and where they heard a long 
 and decidedly gloomy discourse on the 
 hopeless and worthless condition of man- 
 kind in general. Parts of the sermon were 
 considered by Mrs. Pevensey to be so pecu- 
 liarly applicable to Sybil that she nudged 
 her repeatedly during its delivery, and 
 took occasion to " naoj " at her durins; the 
 rest of the day. On their return they found 
 that Mr. Pevensey had gone out, leaving 
 a brief note to say he had been offered 
 a bed at the house of a friend in the 
 suburbs, and would not return until the 
 following day. At length Tuesday arrived. 
 The various articles composing Sybil's 
 trousseau had been sent home, packed up 
 in boxes, and dispatched to Queen Street, 
 Mayfair ; and at ten o'clock on the morning 
 of the eventful day, Charles Perceval ap- 
 peared at the door of the house in
 
 206 BEATING THE AIR, 
 
 Cambridge Crescent, and carried off his 
 future daugliter-in-law to church. Mr. 
 Pevensey had left the house for the City. 
 Mrs. Pevensey gave her cousin a cold kiss, 
 and said she " hoped she would be happy " 
 in a tone of voice which might have 
 withered the orange-blossoms in Sybil's 
 bonnet ; and the bridal party — consisting of 
 the bride and her future father-in-law — 
 drove off to church.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Humphrey Perceval had not spent by any 
 means a pleasant Aveek. He liad no trous- 
 seau to choose : he had more clothes already 
 than he knew what to do with. He had 
 no settlements to look after, the great busi- 
 ness of the conventional male lover as the 
 wedding-day draws near. He could not go 
 and see Sybil. Even writing to her half-a- 
 dozen times a day consumed but a limited 
 amount of time. He had got his leave, and 
 so he had no military duties to occupy him ; 
 and he did not care to appear much at the 
 Club, or go much into general society ; for 
 it seemed deceitful to say nothing about his
 
 208 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 approaching marriage ; and lie did not want 
 to say anything about it until it was over. 
 Indeed lie did not quite know liow to put it. 
 It was not by any means an ordinary situa- 
 tion ; and the conventional English mind is 
 slow to grasp extraordinary social situations, 
 and still slower to forgive them. When 
 Humphrey was once married, the world 
 might accept the fact, — the married state 
 being an institution conventionallyrecognised 
 by society — and might possibly not trouble 
 itself very much to enquire how it had been 
 accomplished. 
 
 But that a young guardsman with good 
 expectations was about to marry a governess 
 who was almost disowned by her own rela- 
 tions, and that he should be about to commit 
 this " rash act '' without the assistance of 
 bridesmaids or the spreading of a wedding 
 breakfast — this was clearly more than Society 
 could stand ; and Humphrey, who needed 
 neither Society's leave nor Society's presence,
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 209 
 
 prudently held his tongue. He had dined 
 out on the evening of Sybil's arrival, and had 
 been in such prej)osterous spirits, bursting 
 with excitement for which he had no expla- 
 nation to offer, that the young lady whom 
 he took down to dinner made up her mind 
 about the second entree that he was the 
 most agreeable man she had ever met ; 
 decided before the ice pudding that he 
 would propose to her the next morning, and 
 was convinced, as the hostess grinned at the 
 epergne in the direction of her most exalted 
 female guest, that he h?xl had just a little too 
 much champagne. 
 
 But the rest of the week Humphrey had 
 spent chiefly at home in Queen Street, May- 
 fair, and he had more than sufficient time 
 and opportunity for reflecting that he was 
 about to take a step of very doubtful 
 wisdom. Worldly wisdom of course ; for 
 his love for Sybil never wavered. His 
 father did not censure ; but he could easily 
 
 VOL. I. T'
 
 210 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 see that he did not completely approve. He 
 *' made the best of it " in a way that dis- 
 tressed Humphrey, who was touched by his 
 generosity, and Avell nigh convinced of his 
 wisdom. 
 
 Would not it have been a pleasanter 
 thing for everybody if he were going to 
 marry a girl in his own position, her father 
 and mother more tlian ready to welcome 
 Humphrey in his daily visits to their 
 daughter, and making elaborate arrange- 
 ments for bridesmaids and wedding break- 
 fast, and quarrelling with his father about 
 settlements, and sending paragraphs to the 
 Morning Post, and all the rest of it. Sybil 
 was of course a perfect lady : but she had 
 neither connections nor fortune — her connec- 
 tions indeed were disreputable. All these 
 thoughts crowded into the mind of Hum- 
 phrey, condemned to absence from Sybil, 
 from his duties, and from Society. Truly it 
 is no wonder that the minds of monks and
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 211 
 
 friars should be sucli ready ground for the 
 devil's seed. 
 
 But Humphrey's true and generous nature 
 could not long harbour any such unworthy 
 thoughts. 
 
 One duty, however, had to be performed 
 before the wedding, and that was to write 
 to Sir AValter. Like many other duties, it 
 was by no means a pleasant task. Hum- 
 phrey rarely wrote to his uncle, who dis- 
 liked both the writing and reading of letters; 
 and he had not been at Shipton since his 
 visit to Kelvedon. If he had, he certainly 
 would not have made a confidant of his 
 uncle as to anything that had passed be- 
 tween himself and Sybil. 
 
 Sir Walter was an eminently unsym- 
 pathetic character; and would have been 
 sure — Humphrey knew — to take the com- 
 mon sense view of such matters. And 
 this was exactly what made it so difficult to 
 write to him on the subject. Indeed, 
 
 r 2
 
 212 BEATING TEE AIR. 
 
 Humphrey found the letter so difficult to 
 write, that he more than once thought of 
 running down to Shipton to break the news 
 to his uncle face to face. But he did not 
 like to leave London when Sybil was there, 
 even though he was not allowed to see her ; 
 so he had to compose a letter, which was an 
 undeniably feeble production, but which he 
 finally sent, — not that he thought it by any 
 means good, but that he felt sure he could 
 not write a better. Its chief merit was 
 that it did not say much. 
 
 Charles Perceval wrote to his brother at 
 the same time, and two days after he 
 received the reply : 
 
 " My dear Charlie, 
 
 '^ I am sorry Humphrey has made 
 a fool of himself. I can do nothino; as 
 regards settlements. 
 
 ** Yours affectionately, 
 
 '•' Walter Perceval."
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 213 
 
 The same post brought the following letter 
 for Humphrey : 
 
 " My dear Humphrey, 
 
 '' I am sorry you did not consult 
 me before you made up your mind to marry. 
 I might have given you some good advice. 
 But I hope you will be happy in your own 
 way. I enclose a cheque for a wedding 
 present for your intended. I hope to see 
 you and your wife whenever you like to 
 come to Shipton. 
 
 " Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 ' ' AValter P erceval. " 
 
 The cheque was for £100. 
 
 The letter was a cold one, but there was 
 nothing unkind to lay hold of; and Hum- 
 phrey wrote to thank his uncle for his hand- 
 some present and kind invitation, and to say 
 liow much he looked forward to introducing
 
 214 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 his wife to him. To this Sir Walter made no 
 reply. 
 
 Humphrey had long and repeated conver- 
 sations with his father. They both avoided 
 the subject of Shipton ; they discussed at 
 great length what was to be done relative to 
 the marriage, in the immediate and remote 
 future ; and finally decided that no change 
 should be made in the establishment at 
 Queen Street, Mayfair ; that Sybil should 
 take her place as mistress of the house, and 
 that the father, and son, and daughter-in-law 
 should live together as the father, and mother, 
 and son had lived before. Nothing could be 
 simpler. Nor was there any great difficulty 
 about money matters. Mr. Perceval would 
 pay over to Sybil the interest of his own 
 wife's fortune. Humphrey's allowance would 
 be continued just as of old ; and the entire 
 household expenses would be defrayed as 
 before, save that the money would pass 
 through the hands of Sybil instead of those
 
 BEATIXG THE AIR. 
 
 of Mrs. Smith the housekeeper, whose services 
 would probably be dispensed with. 
 
 As to the wedding itself, it was decided, 
 after mature consideration by father and son, 
 that it should be as private as possible ; that 
 as there was to be no weddino- breakfast at 
 
 CD 
 
 Cambridge Crescent, there had better be 
 none at Queen Street, Mayfair, and that as 
 there would be no bridesmaids, there need be 
 no best man, and that as there would be no 
 breakfast and no bridesmaids, there need be 
 no invited guests ; and last and most dread- 
 ful conclusion of all^ that, as there would be 
 nobody at all to see Sybil, she need not 
 appear in a veil and a white silk dress ^-ith 
 a wreath of orange blossoms, but in a simple 
 mornino; dress. 
 
 And so it came to pass that when Sybil 
 stepped into ^Ir. Perceval's carriage on that 
 eventful Tuesday morning, she was attired 
 in a pearl grey silk dress, and a bonnet to 
 match of l)riglit silvery satin and soft white
 
 216 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 lace, and just like any other bewitching little 
 bonnet, save that there nestled among 
 the delicate folds a few sprigs of orange 
 blossom ! And truly, although, in spite of 
 her little tribute to female propriety, Sybil 
 may not have looked like a bride, she looked 
 one of the brightest and freshest and most 
 charming specimens of womankind that ever 
 went to Church, to tell a man before God 
 and God's minister, that she loved him 
 better than anything else in the world. 
 And as she stepped out of the carriage at 
 the Church porch, and leaned fondly on the 
 arm of Humphrey, who was waiting to 
 receive her, surely " no sun upon an Easter 
 Day was half so fine a sight,'*' and even 
 that naughty old Sir John Suckling, who 
 was no bad judge of such matters, never 
 saw or imagined any thing half so be- 
 witching. And she walked up the aisle 
 and knelt at the altar, and said / ivill, as she 
 had so shortly before written Yes, without
 
 BEATINa THE AIB. 217 
 
 hesitation, but with just as mucli modesty as 
 tliough her fair head had been crowned with 
 a wreath, and her bright eyes veiled with 
 point-lace. And when the ceremony was 
 over, and they had all signed the book, and 
 she had given her husband and her father- 
 in-law an unaffected kiss, the old clerk who 
 had at first been considerably scandalised 
 by her irregular get-up, came to the con- 
 conclusion that Humphrey had not made 
 such a bad choice after all ! And indeed 
 the old clerk was quite right.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 In a large roojm in a small house in the 
 Fort of Jellalabadpore, on a couch or sofa 
 made of strong Indian matting, and clad 
 only in a silk shirt and a pair of cotton 
 Ijyjamas, lay Lieutenant Harold Main- 
 waring of the 2nd battalion of Her Majesty's 
 26th Light Infantry, smoking a cheroot. 
 It was the beginning of the month of 
 March, and the weather was already tole- 
 rably hot ; and the young officer was de- 
 bating with himself whether he should have 
 the punkahs hung in his room at once, or 
 wait a few days more before thus formally 
 acknowledQ:ino' the arrival of the hot
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 219 
 
 weather. In England we are accustomed 
 to consider tliat the seasons are four — 
 Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter; 
 but this is purely a western myth, inasmuch 
 as in India there are only three : the hot 
 weather, the cold weather, and the rains. 
 The cold weather was just over at Jellala- 
 badpore ; the hot weather, with its atten- 
 dant punkahs and white clothes, was just 
 setting in ; and for the next four or five 
 months the temperature of the un- 
 moistened air would become, day by day, 
 more and more like that of a furnace, until 
 the rains came in with storms of thunder 
 and lightning, and deluges of water from 
 the clouds brought back life and vegetation 
 to the burnt-up fields. 
 
 Now as it is decidedly imprudent to 
 leave the house, except in a covered carriage, 
 between a more or less early hour in the 
 morning and a more or less late hour in 
 the afternoon, durino- the entire course of
 
 220 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 tlie hot weatlier, its arrival is greeted with 
 no kindly welcome by young oiBicers, who 
 having no military duties after seven o'clock 
 in the morning, and who, being neither very 
 fond of reading nor able to discover any 
 great amount of resource within the walls 
 of an Indian bungalow, find the long days, 
 when they are completely debarred from 
 field sports, or even the gentlest out-door 
 exercise or amusement, hanging intolerably 
 heavy upon their hands. 
 
 Lieutenant Mainwaring was in a pecu- 
 liarly unpleasant position, inasmuch as he 
 was the only officer in the Fort at Jellala- 
 badpore, where he occupied the proud, but 
 solitary and eminently dull position of 
 commander of the detachment of *^ Queen's 
 troops " which formed the garrison. 
 
 The fort, too, was not only the hottest 
 and dustiest place for miles round, but it 
 was separated from the civil station by two 
 miles of the hottest and dustiest road that
 
 BEATING THE Alii. 221 
 
 it is possible to conceive : a road, more- 
 over, crowded botli by day and niglit by an 
 endless stream of camels, bullock waggons, 
 ehhas, or one liorse country carts, coolies 
 witli bundles in their hands, women with 
 babies on their hips, perfectly naked 
 children with enormous black stomachs, 
 hard-featured men from the country carry- 
 ing large bundles of sugar-cane, soft- 
 featured men from the town with red 
 cliadars, or shawls, and bright brass lotdlis, 
 or water-pots, men of rank riding with 
 half a score of ragged attendants on foot, 
 ladies of rank in scarlet-curtained palan- 
 quins, horses and donkeys laden with 
 merchandise, droves of buffaloes, and flocks 
 of sheep and goats following their shepherd, 
 and occasionally, towering above all, a 
 mighty elephant, swinging and swaying 
 himself along through the noisy crowd. 
 
 Altogether, as Lieutenant Mainwaring lay 
 upon his couch on the morning we are
 
 222 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 speaking of, be considered that his present 
 position was only less endurable than his 
 prospects for the next few months, and he 
 pitied himself accordingly. So much, indeed, 
 did he pity himself at the precise moment 
 when we find him, that lie considered he 
 had a perfect right to be in an exceedingly 
 bad humour, and what is the same thing 
 among Anglo-Indians, to vent the same upon 
 the first native who came within his reach. 
 Accordingly, when his bearer, who had 
 observed, with true native watchfulness, 
 that his master was beginning to feel the 
 effects of the growing heat, came in with a 
 low salaam, to suggest that permission or 
 orders should be given to him to hang the 
 punkahs, he was received with a storm of 
 abuse ; and the idea was conveyed to him as 
 accurately as the Lieutenant's Hindustani 
 would admit of, that his only object in 
 making this suggestion was that he might 
 sooner have an opportunity of stealing the
 
 BEATIXG THE AIR. 223 
 
 pay of the coolies who would have to be 
 engaged to pull the punkahs, that his 
 master knew what he was up to, and that 
 he had better mind his own business. 
 Finally, not perceiving a boot or other 
 missile weapon within easy reach of his 
 hand as he lay on his mat couch, Lieutenant 
 Mainwaring bade him abruptly and some- 
 what forciblv to beorone. The man bowed 
 to the ground, drew aside the curtain which 
 hung over the doorway, and disappeared. 
 In a few moments more, however, after a 
 warning cougli outside the i^ardah, or 
 portiere, he again made his appearance. 
 
 " What the deuce do vou want botherinor 
 here again," said his master, breaking out 
 into Enghsh in his indignation. "Be oflf, or 
 
 I'll " ^Vhilst he was hesitating as to 
 
 what particular verb of violence he woidd use 
 in the future tense, the bearer informed him 
 that an official messenger from the KacMri 
 or Com't House had brought a letter for
 
 224 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 his lordship, which he therewith tendered, 
 and stood by ^Yaiting to see if there was 
 any answer. " No ; give my compliments to 
 the Assistant Commissioner, an answer will 
 be sent afterwards." *' Just like the con- 
 founded cheek of these fellows ! " muttered 
 
 Main waring. " D d if I send him any 
 
 answer at all." And he read the letter again, 
 which ran as follows : 
 
 DISTRICT OF JELLALABAD. 
 
 Office of the Deputy-Commissioner and Collector of 
 Jellalabadpore. 
 No. A.O. ^. March 3, 18—. 
 
 " I have the honour to infoim you that 
 a report has been presented to me in due 
 form and by the proper authorities, that 
 your grasscutters are in the habit of tres- 
 passing upon the lands of the Eakh Kdld- 
 walah, and of cutting and carrying away 
 the grass, for the use of your horses, to the 
 estimated value of Eupee 1, Anas, 2 only.
 
 BE ATI J^ a THE AIR. 225 
 
 This Eakh being Government property, 
 and under the immediate superintendence of 
 the Deputy Commissioner of this district, I 
 have to request that you will immediately 
 warn your servants to desist for the future 
 from committing any further acts of tres- 
 pass, on pain of being dealt with according 
 to the pro^dsions of Act XIIT. of 1842, and 
 General Order No. 39, Book Circular III. of 
 1870. 
 
 " I am, Sir, yours faithfully, 
 
 ^^P. TOWSER, 
 
 " Assistant Comviissioner, 
 
 " To Lieut. Harold Mainwaring, 26tli Regt. 
 " Commanding Detachment, Fort Jellalabad." 
 
 "Bearer!^' shouted he, savagely, as he 
 finished the second perusal of this effusion. 
 The servant appeared. 
 
 ''What the deuce is the meanincr of all 
 this?" 
 
 "What should I know, Protector of the 
 Poor ? " 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 His master had told him nothing of the 
 contents of the letter ; but a native servant 
 is supposed to know everything ! 
 
 " Then why don't you know. "Where 
 do my grascuts get grass 1 " 
 
 *'I have no news; I will ask/' said the man. 
 
 " Just send for them." 
 
 Mr. Main waring would very much like to 
 have thrashed the Assistant Commissioner ; 
 but as he could not do that, clearly the next 
 best thing to do was to thrash his grascuts. 
 The men having been accordingly summoned 
 and thrashed, they were asked if they had cut 
 any grass on the Kdldwdlah Kakh. They 
 replied — what was perfectly true — that they 
 had not ; and further explained that a cer- 
 tain policeman, who had a s^^ite against one 
 of them, had told them that he would lodge 
 a complaint against them at the Kacheri. 
 He had not specified the form of the com- 
 plaint to be made, but they had no doubt 
 that this alleged trespass on the Govern-
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 227 
 
 ment Raich or waste land, was the mode he 
 had adopted of gratifying his Zid, or spite. 
 Further question elicited the statement, 
 that on the grascuts maintaining that their 
 master was powerful enough to save them 
 from the persecution of a mere policeman, 
 that functionary had replied contemptuously, 
 that he was a mere soldier, witli no power 
 whatever ; whereas his master, the Assistant 
 Commissioner, was powerful enough to do 
 what he liked, not only with a lieutenant s 
 grascuts, but with the lieutenant himself. 
 
 " I only w^isli I had the fellow here," said 
 Mainwarino', in a tone of voice which suof- 
 gested that it was perhaps just as well, both 
 for the policeman and for the officer, that he 
 was not present at that particular moment, 
 '* Now look here," said ho to his grascuts, 
 **you go and cut grass just wherever you 
 please, and if that policeman interferes with 
 you, just tell him from me that he is a 
 . And look here, just tell me if 
 
 Q 2
 
 2-28 BEATING THE AIR, 
 
 he interferes with you ngain. And look 
 here, Bearer, just give these men a rupee 
 between them." 
 
 All the three men salaamed to the 
 ground, and, while Mainwaring returned 
 to his couch, and elaborated a furious 
 letter to the Assistant Commissioner under 
 the soothing influence of a fresh cheroot, 
 the Bearer retired to a shady place to 
 discuss with the grascuts what proportion of 
 the rupee with which he w^ould debit his 
 master's account as having been paid to 
 them, he should keep for himself. 
 
 Now to understand this important case 
 in all its bearings, the reader must know 
 that Lieutenant Mainwaring, on his arrival 
 at Jellalabadpore, had omitted to call on 
 Mr. Towser. It is the custom in India for 
 the last arrival to call on all those who 
 may happen to be in the station ; but in 
 the case of unmarried men, the rule is not 
 always very strictly observed. The civil
 
 BEATlNa THE AIB, 229 
 
 station of Jellalabadpore was a very large 
 one^ and Mainwaring having a great many 
 calls to pay, had never found the moment 
 for leaving his card on the Assistant Com- 
 missioner, Mr. Towser, nor had he thought 
 the omission of any great importance. Nor 
 would it perhaps have been so, were Mr. 
 Towser really nothing more than x^ssistant 
 Commissioner; but unfortunately for Mr. 
 Mainwaring, a few days after his arrival 
 Mr. Towser's superior officer had gone three 
 days' journey into the wilderness to judge 
 certain hadmcisJies, or bad characters ; and 
 no one of equal rank in the service being 
 available for that time, Mr. Towser had 
 been appointed, and duly and formally 
 gazetted. Officiating Deputy Commissioner 
 in his room. 
 
 Now Mr. Towser s rank and import- 
 tance in this exalted position demanded a 
 formal call from all strangers whatsoever, 
 and the remissness of the Lieutenant in
 
 230 BEATIXa THE AIR. 
 
 charge of the detachment at the Fort, during 
 these " three glorious days," had been duly 
 noted and resented. Chancino- to meet 
 Mainwaring at a Badminton i^arty some 
 days after, Towser, now alas only an 
 Assistant Commissioner again, had pointedly 
 turned his back upon the young officer ; and 
 the fact that Mainwaring, who saw no 
 meaning in the movement, neglected to 
 take it as an affi:ont, still further aggravated 
 his offence ; and so when in course of time 
 they TV ere both dining at the Great Superin- 
 tendent of Works', that official, seeing them 
 mute in each other s company, had said, 
 loftily : 
 
 '•'Mr. Mainwaring, of course you know 
 Mr. Towser, our Assistant Commissioner," 
 the latter had replied, with a stiff bow in 
 the direction of the former, " No indeed ; 
 perhaps Mr. Mainwaring scarcely thought it 
 worth his while to call on me when I was 
 only officiating Deputy Commissioner."
 
 BEATCXG THE J FB. 251 
 
 Mainwarmg neither sai^k into the mud 
 floor of the Grand Superintendent's drawings 
 room, nor did he blush crimson, and «^™™^t 
 ont an apology, when he heard this fearfol 
 satire, but he Teiy qnietfy e^^^eased liis 
 aonxjiw that he had not had an eadier oppor- 
 tunity of TTiiilring Mr. Towser's aequamtanee, 
 and regretted that he had not had time to 
 calL In all of which the civilian hat'O " lizi 
 yet the more, and a maiked coolness 
 characterized his ofBcial manner towards tiie 
 yoong officer. Bat no direct offence liad 
 been eiven nnril the writing of the letter 
 that Mainwaiing had received with regard 
 to the ^rasatts. 
 
 So, as the Lieutenant lay smddng and 
 thinking, he elabwated a most c^^ishre 
 reply. He then thonght tiiat he would send 
 no answer at all, and let the fellow remain 
 
 merely d d : bnt he finally got np and 
 
 wrote a tolerably civil lettei; refi^mng to 
 the alleged enmity of tiie poJi^man, an i his
 
 232 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 servants' assertion that tliey liacl never been 
 on the Kakh at all. Harold sent the letter 
 to the Kach^ri in the course of the day — 
 and forgot all about the subject. 
 
 Three or four days afterwards, he was 
 roused from his morning slumbers about 
 five o'clock by a confused noise in the 
 compound or grounds surrounding his house,, 
 and learnt from his Bearer, who came in 
 evidently very much alarmed, that three 
 polisswallah, two conishtabels, and one sar^ 
 jent were bullying his stable-men, both 
 scdses and grascuts. Harold jumped uj), 
 made an exceedingly brief toilet, and went 
 out to see what was the matter. There 
 stood the three policemen, gorgeous and 
 immense, and before them the two grascuts- 
 with their bundles at their feet, and near 
 them the two saises with their wives, the 
 gardener and his coolie, the table servant 
 in his morning undress, and a score of 
 people who had followed the policemen into-
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 233 
 
 the compound, and stood gazing at a re- 
 sjDectful distance waiting to see the issue of 
 the dispute. When anything the least out 
 of the common takes place in an Indian 
 station, — if a cow gets loose, or a horse turns 
 restive, or a man thrashes his dog or his sais, 
 — a dozen people seem, as if by magic, to 
 spring from the ground, to see or even to 
 take part in what is going on. 
 
 The Lieutenant was very angry, and 
 walking straight up to the police officer, he 
 
 said, *'What the do you mean by 
 
 coming into my compound and kicking up 
 all this row ? " and turning to the Bearer, he 
 cried, " Turn all these fellows out at once ;" 
 whereupon all the lookers-on turned and ran 
 at a great pace about twenty yards back, and 
 then, stopping and looking round, walked 
 quietly and very gradually about fifteen 
 yards forward. 
 
 "We are come to make a tdqiqdt, or 
 inquiry regarding the grass that your
 
 234 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 grascuts liavc stolen from the government 
 Kakh/' 
 
 ''No, Sahib, all lies, all lies," broke out 
 the accused servants ; " we never ^Yere near 
 the Eakh ; it is all on account of you." 
 
 " Open that bundle of grass," said the 
 head police officer. One of the constables 
 did so, and scattered the grass all over the 
 ground. 
 
 " What the do you mean, you 
 
 rascal," said Harold, now really angry, 
 "by littering the place all over with my 
 horses' grass ? If you don't clear out of the 
 compound this moment, and quickly too, I'll 
 kick you out." 
 
 " Wah luah/' said all the assembled 
 natives, and the grascut whose bundle 
 had been opened, plucking up courage at 
 the voice of this superior protector, began 
 gathering up the grass and putting it to- 
 gether again under the very nose of the 
 policeman. It was in vain that the sergeant
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 235 
 
 said tliat he Lad come to make an official 
 inquiry with regard to the cutting of the 
 grass ; that the men had been seen lurking 
 in the neighbourhood of the Eakh; that the 
 grass in the bundle must be itself examined 
 in order to see if it corresponded with the 
 grass growing in the Eakh ; that the men 
 had refused his lawful summons, and even 
 spoken disrespectfully of the civil authori- 
 ties, alleging that their master was a military 
 man, and that he cared neither for police 
 nor Assistant Commissioners. 
 
 Harold refused to listen to the officials at 
 all, and understood very little of the official 
 Hindustani which he heard ; and the dis- 
 comfited policemen accordingly retired. 
 
 For a day or two afterwards he debated 
 within himself whether he ought to take any 
 notice of this proceeding, especially as the 
 policeman's manner had been decidedly 
 offensive, but as he knew that any complaint 
 he made, even to the Deputy Commissioner,
 
 236 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 would probably be referred for disposal to 
 Ills friend Mr. Towser, lie determined to 
 take no notice of tbe affair Avliatever. On 
 tlie third day, however, as he was sitting 
 readino* the Pioneer, the Bearer came in and 
 told him that a messengrer from the Kacheri 
 wanted to see him. 
 
 " What did he want ? " 
 " He had a smnmons." 
 " A summons ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and he says he must give it into 
 the Sahib's own hands/' 
 
 " What the deuce ? Well, show him 
 
 in." 
 
 The man came in with his long white coat 
 and scarlet sash and brass badge of office, 
 salaamed, delivered a printed paper into 
 Harold's hands, salaamed again, and retired. 
 The paper was a summon;?, requiring 
 Harold, in due official language, to appear 
 before the magistrate at the Kacheri, at 11 
 o'clock on the next day, to answer a charge
 
 BEAIIXG THE AIR. 237 
 
 (preferred against him under Act XX XT. of 
 1862, Sections 11 to 13) of oljstnicring the 
 police in the execution of their duty. 
 
 Harold did not at first know whether to 
 be more indignant, or more surprised, or more 
 amuse«i ; but he put down the whole thing 
 to the Indian zid between the policeman 
 and his grascut, forgetting the more danger- 
 ous Anglo-Indian zid between the Assistant 
 Commissioner and himself But he made 
 somewhat too light of the turn matters had 
 taken, and attended at the Kacheri the next 
 day at the hour appointed with a somewhat 
 jaunty air. 
 
 The magistrate had not yet come, and 
 their being no waiting-room for Englishmen, 
 he had to sit on a broken-backed chair 
 brought out by one of the Court messeno^eis, 
 amid a noisy and wondering crowd of expec- 
 tant natives. At length a stir was made, a 
 messenger flung up the reed screen with sreat 
 importance, and Mr. Towser walked in.
 
 238 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 Harold rose ; but it was beneath the 
 official dignity to take any notice of an 
 accused person, so the civilian j)assed on, sat 
 down, and began hearing petitions and 
 signing official papers as he heard them. 
 This was too much for Harold, who ad- 
 vanced and said, " I have been summoned 
 to appear here to-day at 11 o'clock on a 
 most preposterous charge; if you are to 
 hear it, will you be good enough to dispose of 
 it and let me go." 
 
 " Yes, I shall try your case," said the 
 Competition-Wallah, with immense import- 
 ance ; *'but I cannot take it out of its turn. 
 The rule of this 'Court is to make no dif- 
 ference between Europeans and Natives." 
 
 Harold was powerless, and he felt it ; and 
 he had to wait nearly two hours in the foul 
 and heated atmosphere of the court-room, 
 jostled by natives, who had eyes for nothing 
 but the presiding magistrate, and looked at 
 with evident satisfaction and triumph by
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 239 
 
 the three policemen, who soon made their 
 appearance, and squatted down in a corner of 
 the room — having previously called the atten- 
 tion of every Bahu and Chaprdssi about the 
 Kacheri to the edifying spectacle of a sahib 
 being kept there "eating shame," until it 
 should please their own all-powerful master, 
 the Assistant Commissioner, to put him out 
 of his misery. These good offices were, how- 
 ever, for the most part entirely superfluous, 
 no one having a quicker or keener percep- 
 tion of the exact bearings of such a " situa- 
 tion," or being more capable of enjoying, in 
 his quiet undemonstrative way, the spectacle 
 of a strange sahib being bullied by his own 
 master, than an Indian clerk. 
 
 After about two hours of this purgatory, 
 Towser's mitnshi, or native clerk, called out 
 in a needlessly loud tone of voice, Wwi- 
 mering Sahib — Harold's name always puzzled 
 the natives, and was usually transliterated and 
 pronounced in that way — and a cJiaprdssi
 
 240 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 in the court echoed tlie call in a still louder 
 tone, " Witnesses against Wimmering Sahib!" 
 The three policemen came forward, so did 
 Harold : and the case began. Harold was 
 asked his name, and his father s name ; his 
 place of abode, and his age. The policemen 
 gave their evidence, to the effect that they 
 had been told that the accused^s gixiscuts were 
 in the habit of stealing grass from the govern- 
 ment Eakh Kalawalah ; that Constable Pir 
 Baksli had accordingly warned the grascttts, 
 but that they had only replied by using 
 abusive language ; that three days before a 
 man called Earn Ldl^ (who was not present, 
 having gone away to his sisters marriage), 
 had told them that he had seen the gra scuts 
 cutting grass in the Eakh ; that they had 
 accordingly proceeded to the spot, and found 
 the grascuts returning home with their 
 bundles of grass on their heads ; that they 
 stopped them, and ordered them to open 
 their bundles, and that they refused to do so.
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 241 
 
 but indulged in very foul language not only- 
 regarding themselves, but in contempt of 
 the Civil Court, alleging that their master 
 Ayas a military man, and that he did not 
 care a _29zce about either the police or the 
 magistrate. 
 
 " We followed them," continued the wit- 
 ness, *' to the Fort, and were proceeding to 
 make a formal tdqiqdt, when Wimmering 
 Sahib rushed out upon us, threatened to 
 strike us, obstructed the tdqiqdt, and drove 
 us, in spite of all our remonstrances, out of 
 the compound, in the presence of a vast con- 
 course of people." A man was then called as 
 a witness to prove that the grascuts were men 
 %>f bad character, that he had heard that' one 
 of them had once been in trouble wdth ree^ard 
 to the stealing of a lotdh, though he did not 
 know whether he had been convicted or not. 
 
 This was the case for the prosecution. 
 Harold was then called upon for his defence. 
 He could only say that he had no idea the
 
 242 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 police had any right to make tdqiqdt in his 
 compound ; that he did not even know the 
 meaning of the word tdqiqdt ; that he 
 wouki be the Last man in the workl wilfully 
 to obstruct the police in the execution of 
 their duty ; and that, finally, he did not quite 
 see what the bad character of his grascuts, 
 even if it was more clearly proved, had to do 
 with the case against him. 
 
 " The Court is the proper judge of all the 
 evidence before it/' said the magistrate, 
 sternly, and Mr. Towser then proceeded, 
 according to Indian custom, to cross-examine 
 the accused at great length, after which he 
 pronounced him guilty of the offence with 
 which he was charged, and ordered him to 
 pay a fine of a hundred rupees. 
 
 Harold was too angry to trust himself to 
 speak, so he made a bow, turned on his heel, 
 and strode out of the room. 
 
 On his arrival at the Fort, an English 
 letter was put into his hand. It was from
 
 BEATING THE AIR, 243 
 
 Sybil, announcing her approaching marriage. 
 " Well, that's one good thing at all events. 
 Nephew and heir to a country baronet. 
 Poor little Sybil ! I'm so glad. I hope the 
 fellow will have some good shooting. Any- 
 how I must try and exchange, and get out 
 of this infernal country. By Jove ! I could 
 have killed that young skunk to-day over 
 and over again, and he knew it, I'm sure. 
 I should like to poh ! Bearer ! " 
 
 ^' Sahib!'' 
 
 ''A brandy and soda." 
 
 " It is brought. Sahib." 
 
 And in a minute more, Harold had 
 relieved his feelino;s in a lonof drauQ:ht of 
 that cool, sparkling, refreshing beverage, 
 which can never be thoroughly appreciated 
 but in India. 
 
 R 2
 
 CHAPTER XYl. 
 
 A EEW days after tlie events detailed in 
 the last chapter, Harold Mainwaring, who 
 felt that although he had been bullied and 
 insulted by the Assistant Commissioner, he 
 need not cut himself off from the society of 
 his friends in Jellalabadpore, ordered his 
 tum-tum at a quarter before twelve o'clock, 
 with the intention of paying a few visits in 
 the civil lines. 
 
 It is hard to say how long it is since some 
 punster — possibly some Oxford Jehu, who 
 knew more about horseflesh than about Latin 
 — gave the name of a tandem to two horses 
 driven " at length ; " but we suppose that
 
 BEATING THE AIR, 245 
 
 when advertising coacli-builders and two- 
 wheeled carriages were far less common than 
 they are now, the name of tandem cart may 
 have been applied to that very varied class 
 of vehicles which are known as do2f-carts, 
 tax-carts, Albert-carts, or otherwise. Any- 
 how, the Anglo-Indians of the last century 
 must have so called them, and their native 
 servants assimilated the word into the 
 current colloquial language as a tum-tum, a 
 mysterious word which is now familiarly 
 used by every native and every Englishman 
 in India. 
 
 At a quarter before twelve to the moment, 
 accordingly, Harold's tum-tum came to the 
 •door. Indian servants, who have neither 
 watches nor clocks, are the most punctual in 
 the world. The sun was in the meridian, 
 fiery and blazing ; there was no work pos- 
 •sible in the fields, and aU the labourers had 
 been lying down under shelter for the last 
 -hour ; the very dogs were beginning to pant
 
 246 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 in the shade ; even the road from the Fort to 
 the civil lines was at its very emptiest ; but 
 Fashion prescribed the time for Harold to 
 pay his visits in the station. It is true his 
 tum-tum had a large white canvas awning 
 stretched upon a light iron frame — young 
 lieutenants cannot afford broughams for 
 visiting, as well as tum-tums for driving 
 in the evening or going out to dinner— but 
 the dry hot air seemed to shrivel up his very 
 throat as he breathed it in, and great beads 
 of perspiration stood out upon the groom's 
 face as he stood quietly flapping away the 
 flies with a white cloth from the head of the 
 panting horse. 
 
 It is the fashion to consider Mrs. Grundy a 
 tolerably severe task-mistress in England, but 
 she is nothing to her Viceroy or Vice-Eeine 
 in India. And she imperatively prescribes 
 the two hottest hours in the twenty-four, and 
 the two hours when every man in India is 
 busiest at his own work, namely, from noon
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 247 
 
 until two p.m., as tlie only time of day 
 during wliich a visit of ceremony — a visit 
 which in fact counts as a visit at all — may 
 be paid by one person to another throughout 
 the leno'th and breadth of Angrlo-India. 
 Those who can form any idea of what India 
 is like out of doors at mid-day in the " hot 
 weather," and who will further bear in mind 
 that everyone in India has some regular 
 work to do — or he would not be there — will 
 be able to appreciate fuUy the manifold ad- 
 vantages and general convenience of this 
 rule. 
 
 But Society, which is the most patient 
 slave in the world, and which, in England, 
 contents itself with lacing itself up in tight 
 corsets, balancing itself on high heels, or 
 encumbering itself with long trains, is 
 further ready in Anglo-India to sally out at 
 mid-day, under a tropical sun, to pay its 
 court to its remorseless Deity. 
 
 This digression a propos of tum-tums and
 
 248 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 times of Indian visiting, is perhaps too 
 much after the manner of by-gone novelists 
 to please modern tastes ; so let us hasten 
 on, out of the dust and glare of the Indian 
 roads, into a dark cool drawing-room, where 
 Mrs. Langham is sitting on a comfortable 
 Gujerat chair, talking about Mr. Langham's 
 chances of *' leave to England" with Harold, 
 who, like ourselves, has just entered her 
 presence-chamber. 
 
 Airs. Langham was debating in her mind 
 as to whether she should say anything to 
 Harold about his adventure at the Kacheri, 
 which had been already magnified into 
 almost heroic proportions ; and Harold, who 
 instinctively felt from her manner, at once 
 distraite and expectant, that something was 
 coming, made a bold plunge into the 
 furthest region from Jell alabadpore which he 
 thought would have any chance of holding 
 Mrs. Langham, and told her as much as 
 he knew about his sister's marriage with
 
 BEATING THE AIR, 249 
 
 Mr. Humphrey Perceval, of the Coldstream 
 Guards, heir, &c., &c. 
 
 " And so your sister will be Lady Perceval 
 some day," said Mrs. Langham, with a 
 mingled air of jealousy, patronage, and 
 interest, which amused Harold a good deal, 
 and which would have amused him still 
 more had he not been momentarily afraid of 
 the appearance on the tapis of the '' police 
 case," which, for some reason or other, he 
 dreaded even more than at the commence- 
 ment of the visit. Under cover of Mrs. 
 Langham's surprise at his English news, 
 however, he contrived to beat a timely 
 retreat, and resumed, not without fresh 
 trepidation, his round of calls. Fortunately 
 for his peace of mind he found no one else 
 at home ; they were all, like himself, making 
 '^ dreary rounds ; " and he returned to the 
 Fort to recruit, after his social campaign, by 
 divesting himself of all his superfluous 
 garments, and, after an abundant tiffin^
 
 250 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 passing tlie remainder of the clay in a 
 recumbent position on his couch under the 
 punkah, with the assistance of sundry 
 cheroots, and a certain, or rather an uncertain, 
 number of what Anglo-Indians call Pegs. The 
 true etymology of "peg " being by no means 
 as easy to arrive at as that of tum-tum, and 
 the accepted derivation being of a mournful, 
 not to say a mortuary character, suffice it to 
 say that the meaning of the word in the 
 mouth or throat of an Anglo-Indian is 
 merely that of a large glass of brandy and 
 soda-water. 
 
 Mrs. Langham had a large dinner-party 
 that night, and she would certainly have 
 asked Harold on the strength of his new con- 
 nection, had not, in the first place, her table 
 been full, and, in the second j)lace, the re- 
 doubtable Mr. Towser been numbered among 
 the invited guests. The hostess was a pale, 
 unenergetic woman, as colourless in mind as 
 she was in face, with few ideas beyond the
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 251 
 
 leave and promotion of her husband who was 
 the Commissioner of JeHahibadpore, a man 
 of almost awful importance, and who exacted 
 almost as much deference from his wife as 
 from the numerous smaller officials, both 
 English and native, whose more or less rapid 
 advancement depended upon his good-will. 
 
 A little before sunset, he arrived from his 
 office, and he and Mrs. Langham got into a 
 large canoe barouche, with a coachman and 
 two attendant grooms looking smart in 
 their white coats and scarlet turbans, and 
 drove slowly up and down the principal 
 I'oad in the station. 
 
 A dozen water-carriers with their water- 
 skins were busy laying the dust and cooling 
 the air after the fierce heat of the day, and 
 salaaming to the ground under their burdens 
 as the Commissioner Sahib rolled by. 
 
 Soon tliis " cool road," as it is called in 
 that picturesque eastern language which 
 gives to the poor water-carrier who makes it
 
 ^52 BEATING THE AIM. 
 
 SO, the name of Heavenly, v\^as crowded with 
 carriages of every kind and description, 
 from the imposing barouche of the Commis- 
 sioner to the most rattletrap tum-tum of the 
 poorest Eurasian clerk, anxious to take his 
 place, if only out of doors, among those 
 whose houses he is for ever forbidden to 
 enter. 
 
 After the usual number of greetings, the 
 canoe barouche rolled back in the dusk to the 
 Commissioner's house, and the great man, 
 having duly bathed his august person, put 
 himself in the hands of his bearer, and was 
 dressed for dinner. 
 
 He was a large pompous man with a deep 
 voice, and a supercilious manner, tawny hair, 
 s> dull complexion, and an illegible hand- 
 writing. After all, why not say so ? A 
 man's handwriting is as much a part of his 
 personality as his nose, and his character can 
 be known just as truly from the one as from 
 the other.
 
 BEATING THE AIB. 253 
 
 There was a large dinner-party at tlie 
 Commissioner s that night, and, as we have 
 abieady said, our old friend Mr. Towser was 
 one of the invited guests. 
 
 There is necessarily but little variety in 
 Indian dinner-parties. A few of the station 
 officials and their wives, who had also been 
 bidden, tired to death of meeting each other 
 day after day, felt languidly pleased at the 
 j)resence of two comparative strangers. 
 Captain Nicol and his new wife, just 
 arrived from home, and on their way to 
 ''join" at Gurdasnaggar. 
 
 Captain Nicol was what was called a 
 " military civilian," an Indian anomaly 
 sufficiently familiar to all those who have 
 been, like the Honourable Emily Eden, 
 *' up the country." 
 
 A military civilian is a military officer in 
 civil employ, who rises paii passu in each 
 department, and who, starting as a Lieu- 
 tenant and an Assistant Commissioner, may
 
 254 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 some day be a Lieutenant-General and a 
 Commissioner and Superintendant. 
 
 By a convenient and useful theory, mili- 
 tary men are considered especially valuable 
 as local judges in non-regulation or out- 
 of-tlle-^Yay provinces ; but the military- 
 civilians somewhat resemble the amphibious 
 animal which, according to the celebrated 
 definition, " can't live on the land, and dies 
 in the water," inasmuch as by the time they 
 have attained any standing in the service, 
 they have entirely lost their military experi- 
 ence, while they can never be expected to 
 have learned anything of law. But they 
 are appointed by the Indian Government 
 without the interference of the Civil Service 
 Commissioners — with their Competitive Ex- 
 aminations and such like ; they draw thrice 
 or four times the salary as civilians that 
 they would do as mere military officers ; 
 they wear a scarlet tunic instead of the 
 usual black dress-coat and white tie (at
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 255 
 
 2 P.M. !) at the gubernatorial levees ; their 
 names can be added to the streno^th of the 
 army, if the army is wanted to look big, or 
 subtracted from it if it is wanted to look 
 small ; and they are personally very often 
 exceedingly good fellows ; in fine, every- 
 thing is for the best in the best possible of 
 Administrations. 
 
 The military civilian indeed, like the 
 roux in the French proverb, is inclined to 
 be either tout hon or tout mauvais. 
 
 The military martinet grafted on to the 
 conceited civilian does not produce the 
 sweetest of apples ; but the early training of 
 the mess-room, and that best of all schools, 
 a good regiment, fits many a man to 
 withstand the manifold temptations which 
 threaten to warp, if not to destroy, the cha- 
 racter of the youth who suddenly finds him- 
 self in the position of having almost arbitrary 
 power over all those with whom he is 
 brought in contact. Captain Nicol was a
 
 256 BEATING THE AIB. 
 
 capital specimen of the class ; and two years* 
 leave in England, to say nothing of the pre- 
 sence of a young and charming wife, gave a 
 freshness to his whole being which was 
 eminently un-Indian. 
 
 Then there was Captain Philpotts, a Eoyal 
 Engineer in the Irrigation Department, an 
 officer who had the honour of beinsr a thorn 
 in the side of so great a man as the Com- 
 missioner himself. That a military man 
 should be a civilian was bad enoup^h. It 
 was unfortunate, but it was endurable. 
 After all he was a civilian. He was 
 actually within the sacred fold, even though 
 he had not originally entered at the door, 
 but had been hoisted over the wall. ^'J'lf 
 sim,fy reste " might be his motto. But an 
 irrigation officer was not a civilian at all, 
 and yet he had, or wished to have, some 
 authority in the countiy. A mere English 
 sapper — a rank outsider, a hireling in fact — 
 who presumed to employ, and thus to order
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 about those sheep which belonged as it were 
 of right to the civil officer of the district. A 
 disciple too of Sir Arthur Cotton, that canal 
 incendiary, that agrarian firebrand, that 
 visionary, that blind guide, that shallow 
 prophet, who maintained that all was not 
 for the best in the best possible of adminis- 
 trations ! 
 
 ]\Ir. Langham, however, received Captain 
 Philpotts as he would have done a distin- 
 guished stranger, and Captain Phdpotts, who 
 was just going home, was delighted to meet 
 Captain Nicol, who had just come out, and 
 the Commissioner's wine was far too ofood to 
 be mixed with water even in conversation. 
 
 "When are you thinkia^ of going home ? " 
 said Mrs. Parker to Mrs. Clark across the 
 table. 
 
 Now ^Irs. Parker had just learned that 
 Mr. Clark, who had applied for leave, had 
 been refused that very day : so when her 
 friend the wife of the disappointed appli-
 
 258 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 cant said, as carelessly as she could, " Oh, 
 we have not quite made up our minds," 
 Mrs. Parker returned gallantly to the charge 
 with an " Oh ! I thought it was quite settled. 
 I wouldn't put it off too long if I were you, 
 people may stay too long, and Dr. Bradshaw 
 told me that Mr. Clark was not at all the 
 thing — not at all the thing," said she, repeat- 
 ing the professional estimate which she had 
 so aptly fastened upon Dr. Bradshaw. 
 
 " By the way, are you going up to the 
 hills this hot weather ? " said a neighbour 
 opportunely to Mrs. Parker, whereby Mrs. 
 01 ark was relieved, and the conversation 
 turned. 
 
 Still it flowed, however, hither and thither 
 in the old and well-worn channels of leave, 
 officiating appointments, changes of station, 
 going home, promotion, and such kindred 
 topics as never fail to interest Anglo-Indian 
 Society. 
 
 After dinner, the ladies criticised Mrs.
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 259 
 
 Nicol's dress, in virtue of her being a 
 stranger, a bride, and a new arrival. Mrs. 
 Parker, however, proved herself the lion of 
 the evening, for having with great self-re- 
 straint reserved herself until the s^entlemen 
 had left the dining-room, and a complete 
 and silent audience was assembled, she en- 
 tertained the company with a graphic and 
 spicy account of Harold Mainwaring's brutal 
 assault upon the police, his trial before the 
 judicial Towser, and his conviction, sentence, 
 and general discomfiture. This brought up 
 Mr. Towser, who, assenting with civil leer to 
 the main statements of the narrative, took 
 the liberty of making a few modest correc- 
 tions, which, strange to say, were not entirely 
 to his own disadvantage. 
 
 Mrs. Langham showed her greatness and 
 superiority to those who had only heard, by 
 casually remarking that she had seen Mr. 
 Mainwaring that very day, and that his 
 sister was going to make a great match at 
 
 s 2
 
 2G0 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 liome. This nettled Mrs. Parker, who re- 
 joined that she was sure no one at Jellala- 
 badpore cared twopence about Mr. Main- 
 waring — still less about his sister. 
 
 Mrs. Langham, with a view of finally 
 crushing her antagonist, continued : " Per- 
 haps not, but Miss Mainwaring is going to 
 marry a man of title. Sir Humphrey Per- 
 ceval ! ^' 
 
 " Eeally ! " said the other, interested in 
 spite of herself. " K.C.S.I. ? " 
 
 '' No," said Mrs. Langham with concen- 
 tration, " a Baronet ! " 
 
 But hereupon there came to the relief of 
 Mrs. Parker, to the utter astonishment of 
 Mrs. Langham, no less a person than Mr. 
 Towser, who said, — 
 
 "Ah, yes, the Percevals and my people 
 used to be great friends at home. Old Sir 
 Humphrey Perceval was my godfather ! " 
 
 Whereupon Mrs. Langham, who knew 
 something of English society, and had her
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 261 
 
 own views upon what Mr. Towser might be 
 *' at home," held her tongue wonderingly for 
 a minute, and then turned to Mrs. Nicol 
 and asked her in a kind tone a question 
 which was by no means new to her, and 
 which she abeady felt increasing difficulty 
 in answering. 
 
 " How do you like India ? "
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 After tlie ceremony at St. George's, 
 Hanover Square, Humphrey went back 
 to luncheon at Queen Street, Mayfair, with 
 his vjife, and thence to Charing Cross 
 Station and so to Dover and Calais and 
 Amiens and Paris. Sybil had never been 
 out of England before, and enjoyed every 
 novelty in a way that at once amused and 
 delighted her husband ; while she her- 
 self thought that travelling was certainly 
 the most delightful way of spending one's 
 time that could be imagined. And then she 
 was with Humphrey — her own Humphrey, 
 and there was so much to be learnt and so
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 263 
 
 much to be forgotten ; and it was only the 
 painful that she had to forget, and only the 
 pleasant that she had to learn. 
 
 So her days passed, each fairer and 
 brighter than that which preceded it, as 
 it removed her twenty-four hours farther 
 from Mrs. Osborne and Mrs. Pevensey, and 
 advanced her twenty-four hours further 
 in Humphrey's life and Humphrey's 
 love. 
 
 One of the pleasantest things she had to 
 learn was her husband ; and she found the 
 study at least as interesting as the caps and 
 earrings of the Boulogne fisherwomen, the 
 Cathedral at Amiens, or even the galleries of 
 the Louvre. She had seen so little of him 
 before her marriage, that she had all the 
 more to learn and all the more to tell him, 
 now that they were man and wife, and went 
 their way a pair of married lovers, feeding 
 on those most delicious of all this world's 
 sweets, the sweets of pure but passionate
 
 264 BEATING THE AIM. 
 
 wedded love, of pleasure untainted with 
 shame, and ennobled by mutual respect. But 
 who can thus wander through the flowery 
 meadows untainted with a weed, and hand in 
 hand enjoy at once all the pleasures of posses- 
 sion and of anticipation — with a dazzling 
 Present leading on to a bright calm Future ? 
 Who but those who like Humphrey and Sybil 
 have joined their hands and their hearts ere 
 either of them have drunk too deeply of the 
 world's poisoned chalice, and before they have 
 been soured by disappointment, or satiated 
 with artificial pleasures ; before the noble 
 *' illusions" we are born with have been re- 
 placed by the conventional experience which 
 we acquire ; or the fresh faith and the great 
 hope of their generous young minds have 
 been blighted by that "knowledge of the 
 world " which but too often comes from ac- 
 quaintance with some of its darker paths. 
 Youth is the season for Love, and Love is the 
 signal for Marriage. They have been joined
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 265 
 
 togetlier by God ; cursed be that man wlio 
 puts them asunder. 
 
 x4.nd as Humphrey and Sybil became daily 
 better acquainted with each other, and 
 learned to respect and to admire as well 
 as to love, they each became insensibly 
 interested with the thoug^hts and feelino-s 
 and opinions of the other — this mutual 
 insensible influence raising each of them 
 above their former selves, and laying a sure 
 foundation in mutual confidence, as well as 
 mutual love, for a happy and complete 
 wedded life. 
 
 They stayed for some time in Paris, and 
 enjoyed that brilliant capital, as much as it 
 is possible for any one to do who does not 
 mingle in its home society. 
 
 They lived like tourists, at an hotel, and 
 though they had the good sense never to 
 weary themselves with mere sight-seeing, the 
 dullest and least profitable of all the conven- 
 tional modes of killiuo- time, thev saw much
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 
 
 of tlie exterior of the town, the galleries of 
 painting and sculpture, the churches and 
 museums, and all those public buildings both 
 in Paris and the environs which formed one 
 of the glories of the gay capital before the days 
 of the Prussian and the Commune. Of social 
 Paris, of course they saw nothing. But as 
 far as society was concerned they were com- 
 plete in themselves, as each was to the other 
 the most agreeable person in the world. 
 From Paris they went to Dijon and Lyons, 
 and on to Marseilles and by the Eiviera to 
 Genoa and Florence. An extension of leave 
 enabled Humphrey to continue his journey 
 to Kome and Naples, and to linger for a few 
 days on the shores of those Italian lakes so 
 enchanting and yet so little frequented in the 
 early spring, ere the lovers plunged through 
 the snow of an alpine pass and were rattled 
 once more by rail back to Paris, and so at 
 length to Sybil's new home in Queen Street, 
 Mayfair.
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 267 
 
 Was there ever such a happy young 
 couple on the face of the earth since our first 
 parents loved in Paradise ? And if anything 
 could seem brighter for Humphrey and Sybil 
 than the present, was it not the future ? Ay ; 
 but let them enjoy the present. Che sara 
 
 sara.
 
 CHAPTEK XYIII. 
 
 " What ! " says a fair reader, " married 
 already ! a marriage at the end of the first 
 volume. Perhaps they are not the hero and 
 heroine ? " 
 
 " Indeed, madam, they are/' 
 
 " Oh ! but how dull. I made sure that 
 Sybil would have been poisoned by Mrs. 
 Pevensey, or that when she arrived at the 
 church door a note from Humphrey would 
 have been handed to her by his soldier- 
 servant in a tall bearskin, to say that he had 
 just started for Italy with an opera-dancer, 
 or somebody else's bride — or that something 
 should have broken off the match, or at 
 least postponed it, until, after two volumes
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 2G9 
 
 more of misery and misunderstandings, of 
 cross .parents and cross purposes, the hero 
 and heroine should happily patch up their 
 broken hearts and unite their wandering 
 hands at the conclusion of the third volume. 
 But a marriage so hasty is positively in- 
 decent ; and such a marriage ! AVhat was 
 the use of making the hero a Guardsman, 
 and giving him such good looks and such 
 good expectations — if he was to marry a 
 governess. A man who might have aspired 
 to Lady Millionnaire Blueblood or Miss 
 Amabel Lovely, and who, after breaking the 
 hearts of half-a-dozen married women, might 
 have married a beautiful and high-born heiress 
 — to cut short at once his own prospects and 
 my not very great interest in the present 
 story, for the sake of a penniless girl, with 
 neither position nor connections, and of whom 
 we know very little, and Humphrey nothing 
 whatever ! It is doubtful whether she ought 
 even to be recognized at all."
 
 270 BEATING TEE AIR. 
 
 " I am very sorry for her, madam ; I know 
 the value of your good opinion, but, believe 
 me, the old clerk was right, and Humphrey 
 — except in so far as he may have incurred 
 your displeasure, is not to be pitied at all." 
 
 " Well, but why marry them so soon '? 
 Is not marriage the end and aim of every 
 right-thinking woman's life ? and ought not 
 a novel — which is but the story of one 
 woman's life written for the amusement of 
 other women, — to end in marriage ? '' 
 
 " Not unless, madam, the real life should 
 also end there, — not unless the English bride, 
 by a fate more cruel that that of the Indian 
 Suttee, should sacrifice her life on the hy- 
 meneal altar. It is not marriage merely that 
 is the aim of every girl, but a happy mar- 
 riage ; and it is into the happiness of the 
 married life of the hero and heroine that 
 the novelist usually takes so little trouble to 
 inquii-e. The old formula suffices, they 
 married ^ amd lived happily ever after.' We
 
 BEATING THE AIR. 271 
 
 Iiave done with them. Drop the curtain : 
 dismiss the actors, they have played their 
 parts. Let us go ' to-morrow to fresh wood? 
 and pastures new.' '' 
 
 But what is a happy marriage ? A 
 naarriage with plenty of bridesmaids and a 
 good-looking best man, w^ith plenty of cake 
 and wine, and satin slippers and rice, with 
 handsome presents and liberal settlements, 
 and a beautiful bride and a brave bride- 
 groom. These are all charming things in 
 their way. And yet, when the blue- 
 jacketed postilions crack their whips and 
 the four greys whirl the yellow chariot under 
 triumphal arches of flowers, as the bride 
 and bridegroom take their departure for 
 *' Howard Court, the seat of His Grace the 
 Duke of Fitz Alan, wdiere the newly married 
 couple are to pass the honeymoon," are we 
 sure that their life will be happy, and that 
 their connubial chariot will always run 
 smoothly along the road of life under arches
 
 272 BEATING THE AIE. 
 
 on which Health and Happiness is inscribed 
 in flowers ? I trow not. 
 
 And is the married state so much less 
 interesting than the life of boys and girls I 
 And if not, fair and gentle readers, are you 
 content to follow Sybil through two more 
 volumes ? No ? — then you have but to 
 return them unopened to Mr. Mudie, and 
 beg that he will not send you such dull 
 novels in the future. But if you will ; why 
 then I will do my best to tell you as little 
 that is dull and as much that is interesting 
 about them as possible, and we will com- 
 mence as soon as you please. 
 
 " Very good. Ethel, darling, will you go 
 down to the Morning Eoom and bring me up 
 the second volume of 'Beating the Airy 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BRADBURY, AG>-ETr, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.