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 823 
 H552ui 
 
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 I 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
THE NEW NOVELS. 
 
 COSETTK. By Mbs. Macquoid. 2 vols. 
 
 RUNNING DOUBLE : A Story of the Stable and the Sta^e. By 
 Fbaitk Hudsow. 2 vols. 
 
 'MIDST SURREY HILLS. By A. C. Bickley. 3 vols. 
 
 FOR ONE AND THE WORLD. By Miss Betham-Edwards. 
 2 vols. 
 
 BROWNIE'S PLOT. By Thomas Cobb. 2 vols. 
 
 OF HIGH DESCENT, By G. M. Fbwk. 3 vols. 
 
 WARD & DOWNEY, PUBLISHERS, LONDON. 
 
AJSr UlSTFORTUNATE 
 ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN HILL. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 YOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 WARD AND DOWNEY, 
 
 12, YORK STREET, COYENT GARDEN, W,C. 
 
 1890. 
 [^All rights reserved.^ 
 
CHABLB3 DICKBNS A^ND ETINS, 
 CRT8TAL PILACK PBESS. 
 
8£5 
 
 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I WAS sitting one fine June morning in the window 
 
 of my room where I had been breakfasting, and 
 
 looking out over the Thames at the tall shot towers, 
 
 the brewery lion, and the Waterloo Road chimney- 
 
 ~ pots which were unusually distinct against the blue 
 
 sky and sunlight, while the water was all dazzling 
 
 ripples, and the Waterloo Bridge looked large, 
 
 ^ strong, hard, and white. 
 
 ^ I had a bow-window with a seat round it, so 
 
 ;J^that I could sit and look out front, right, and left, 
 
 , which is a pleasant thing to do after breakfast, with 
 
 ■ . the window open, just when all the busy people are 
 
 ^ becoming especially busy, just when the "principals" 
 Vy VOL. I. B 
 
2 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 are speeding in first-class carriages to tlie places 
 of business which have been occupied for an hour 
 or so by their clerks. All the hurry and worry 
 and driving and din of every-day money-hunters 
 intensify in my mind the enjoyment of sitting com- 
 fortably in my own room, with a Standard upon 
 my knees which has been properly cut, and of 
 feeling myself absolutely free to do what I like at 
 my own time. 
 
 I suppose there are few things more repulsive 
 to me, and perhaps more noxious to the nation on 
 the whole, than the common run of business, except 
 perhaps its complement and correlative in London 
 life, the common run of pleasure. Another thing 
 which annoys me, and irritates my " flawless 
 serenity,'' is the persistence with which men, who 
 are not drawn by necessity or inclination to money- 
 hunting, must nevertheless " go in " for something. 
 And the man who " goes in '' for something in- 
 variably goes in for making that something his 
 sole and chronic subject of discourse. I have a 
 great many acquaintances, and I think they all go 
 in for things. One goes in for bicycling, another 
 for what he calls '' shootin'/' and lowers the fauna- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 3 
 
 population of Asia, Africa, America, and Europe 
 
 in a way whicli would be really laudable if applied 
 
 to some of the mammalia facetiously termed Higher 
 
 which teem in this city. I know one awful man 
 
 who goes in for chess and fly-fishing_, and turns the 
 
 conversation to chess and fish by force, however 
 
 remote from them the original topic may be. Then 
 
 there is a poor fellow who rescues the friendless 
 
 and fallen as he calls them, who comes and laments 
 
 to me about the way the friendless and fallen 
 
 disappoint him and become friendly and elevated. 
 
 In vain I tell them I take no interest in any of these 
 
 things; I do tell them that with all the force and 
 
 iteration which politeness allows, sometimes even 
 
 more, but it has no effect. It is written that les 
 
 fdcheux should alway chasten me. 
 
 I had been over-driven lately by a number of 
 
 people who go in for the Season, and all the dreary 
 
 abominations it involves, from the Private View to 
 
 Henley, and talk to me about Derby sweepstakes 
 
 and tips. I might as well talk to them about 
 
 Snake-worship, and Haiko and the Shiuten Dogi. 
 
 They all want so many expensive artificial 
 
 appliances to make them — well, I nearly said 
 
 B 2 
 
4 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 happy. Now I can be quite happy without going 
 •tG a race in patent leather boots, and a gray frock- 
 -coatj and betting, and eating, and drinking beastly 
 things out of hampers. I can be quite happy 
 without going to entertainments where nobody 
 ^an move, and where nobody wants to see any of 
 the people who invite them or whom they invite. 
 If I want to stay up half the night amusing my- 
 self, I do it; but not society's way. No balls for 
 me, and certainly no baccarat with semi-intoxicated 
 young men of fashion, and ornate iniquitous civet- 
 smelling Semites. I stay here and read, or have 
 some one in with brains, or beauty, or both, to talk 
 to me and have pleasant, yea, joyous suppers in 
 this open bow-window, with the breezes and sounds 
 of the] river coming in, and the lights glimmering 
 through the after-glow towards Lambeth and 
 Westminster. 
 
 All I want is good books, good food, good wine, 
 amusing company, good tobacco, and good health ; 
 and I simply wish to lead a pleasant life, and I 
 generally do it. Good conscience, I hear some 
 reproachful one remind me. Well, plainly, con- 
 science is a fraud and faclieux. I have been annoyed 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 5^ 
 
 very mucli by conscience at times. It is so im- 
 pervious to reasoning. There are tilings whicli it 
 used to keep me from doing, the not doing of. 
 which I shall never cease to repent and lament. 
 There have been splendid unique chances which I 
 have let go into eternity, which were worth snatch- 
 ing at then, though death followed after, which I 
 now might not desire any more, even could they 
 come again, for I am not the same. For this- 
 conscience, and none other, is to blame. My own 
 desire was not wanting, God knoweth. Such other: 
 obstacles as might be, were trivial. It is of no use 
 to argue with conscience. The way is to simply 
 ignore it, when plain reason convinces that it is 
 abjectly wrong, short-sighted, and silly, as it 
 generally is. Being entirely a matter of feeling,, 
 like faith, and love, and reverence, it is quite 
 independent of fact, and scorns mere conclusions- 
 from mere premisses, and is generally like faith,, 
 love, and reverence, ill-directed and productive of 
 annoyance and disappointment. 
 
 I do not *^go in^^ for any special kind of thing 
 myself, except comfort. I like books, but am not 
 at all a marvel of erudition ; I like out-door exercise. 
 
% AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 but am not an athlete, nor an enthusiastic field- 
 sportsman. I am interested in art of all kindsj but 
 do not worship it, or feel it taking the place of 
 religion, or of anything at all, and I think it is a 
 thins: which has been rather over-talked about, 
 and many of its producers people who have been 
 rather more applauded and exalted than their con- 
 tribution to the sum of human pleasure really 
 warrants. I like religion — there are several very 
 good kinds still in use, and I think the genuine 
 Christianity, when you happen to come across it, 
 ranks among the most interesting. I feel inclined 
 to put it above the Mohammedan religion in point 
 of attractiveness, though I am aware I am in a 
 minority in so doing, as far more persons prefer 
 the system of Mohammed. 
 
 But what puzzles me is what the British public 
 is going to do for a system of morals in the future, 
 and how it will keep itself in order when it begins 
 to candidly and openly appreciate what it is 
 inwardly doing, namely, letting its religion lapse 
 slowly and surely into oblivion and empty ceremony. 
 It is all very well when scepticism is confined to 
 those who are learned, for tliey have minds which 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT. 7 
 
 inform them that it is equally necessary for a com- 
 munity to observe and enforce such rules of social 
 order as the place, time, and circumstances require 
 for general security, comfort, and justice, whether 
 it be true, or whether it be not true, that the word 
 Jahveh denotes the same idea as the word Elohim. 
 But there is an immense quantity of uncultivated 
 persons to whom religion is a fear of punishment 
 if they are naughty, and if the fear of punishment 
 is removed, there remains to them no restraint from 
 following their natural bent, and if they follow 
 their natural bent, they will be most unpleasant, 
 and give a great deal of trouble. The scattered 
 bands of anarchists are but the petrels before the 
 storm, the advanced guard of the coming army of 
 ignorant, hungry,^ unfit survivors and impossibi- 
 lists who will dash their heads against the social 
 ramparts. 
 
 But it will be a very long time before people 
 in general in England will bring themselves to 
 candidly admit what they really think, and be 
 logical and consistent. They are so used to deem 
 it respectable to think and act one way, and talk 
 another, to do one thing and call it by the name of 
 
8 AN UXFOBTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 another thing, and are so shocked if one shapes 
 their thoughts into words, that I cannot imagine 
 them ever being candid and consistent'at all. Why 
 I met a man the other day "who, after telling about 
 eight laughable but obscene stories, complained 
 that a word in a novel he had read was " indecent." 
 Now I may have various defects, but I am con- 
 sistent. In the first place, I am absolutely selfish, 
 though I do not call that a defect. I do not mean 
 the kind of selfishness called " seeking your own 
 happiness in that of others," or any sophistical way 
 of putting unselfishness, I mean that I seek (and 
 usually find) my own happiness totally irrespective 
 of any other person or thing. I have no scruple 
 whatever of any kind, nor do I see why one should 
 shackle oneself with such things. Of course there 
 are strong reasons why I should not do many things, 
 but they are not scruples. I do not inveigle young 
 girls into my chambers, and slowly torture them to 
 death, as I fancy Nero did, because the police 
 would interfere and make it unpleasant for me ; 
 but I should think it might be interesting. I do 
 not indulge freely in what is popularly called vice, 
 because it is mostly so stupid — at least, its ex- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEUANGEMENT. 9" 
 
 ponents are. But I do not abstain on any special 
 principle, simply from a lack of attraction whicli is 
 probably of a temporary character. The seduction 
 of the virtuous and the corruption of the innocent 
 is much more entertaining than any quantity of 
 technical '^ vice." Horrible sentiments ! Perhaps. 
 A matter of opinion. I do not object to your 
 calliog them by any epithet you like. But let me 
 ask first, of one class of objectors, am I not better 
 off than you who " fall into temptation/^ struggle, 
 yield, and then bitterly repent, and become very 
 uncomfortable over it ? I work up a temptation to 
 as keen an edge as it will take, with the thorough 
 intention of yielding to it, and then do not repent. 
 To another class I say, what have you, who 
 do not believe in a future life where people are 
 classified according to conduct, to say against 
 my sentiments ? Why am I not to " do wrong " 
 (let us call it) if I like ? What is to hinder me 
 except occasional inconvenience or impossibility ? 
 You may say my taste is bad, that my view of 
 happiness is degraded — by all means; but this is 
 a mere question of adjectives — I may consider 
 probably that some of your tastes are low, and 
 
10 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 your ideas of happiness sordid and incomplete ; 
 but I do not see what is to prevent you from 
 wishing to pursue them. In fine, your avenging 
 future state having gone away into a further 
 Ewiglieit than the lager beer of the poet, and 
 being, perhaps, more missed, for one can get 
 more lager beer if one likes it, there is no binding 
 force whatever except at one's free choice. If 
 you say that you prefer what is popularly called 
 " right," I have nothing to say. You are at 
 liberty to do so. I will not even fling back your 
 arbitrary epithets about degraded views and low 
 tastes. Your ideas may be totally opposed to 
 mine, but I do not think that a reason, as you 
 seem to, for abusing them. But I think you will 
 miss a great deal. And as what anybody chooses 
 to think about me and my views is quite unim- 
 portant to me, I will not pursue the matter further. 
 The really religious-minded people of course are 
 on another footing altogether. Their objection 
 to me is quite consistent and reasonable from 
 their point of view, and I have no fault to find 
 with it. I merely wish to make my position 
 clear. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 11 
 
 Well, I was sitting, as I said, in the window, 
 when my man announced '' Mr. McEwan," and 
 Mr. McEwan came in and stood looking out of 
 the window. Alan McEwan is a creature I do 
 not entirely understand. I know on most im- 
 portant points we differ and do not sympathise, 
 and yet we seem to take a sort of interest in each 
 other. Alan McEwan is a tallish, frail-looking 
 person, with a sad, reproachful, sallow, tired face^ 
 in which the eyes are rather dark and flashy in 
 large cavernous orbits with black brows. A 
 lanterned - jawed person, with a long streak of 
 wandering moustache, one end up and one down. 
 He would make an ideal Puritan soldier, with his 
 long, sombre, thin face, and grave, well -shaped 
 mouth, were his body and limbs a little heavier 
 in their build. His head was covered with straight, 
 Eed-Indian-like hair, between long and short, and 
 getting streaked with white here and there near 
 the ears. I think Holbein would have enjoyed 
 painting his portrait, and so might also Velasquez. 
 He had enough severe gravity for the one, and 
 enough wild majesty for the other if he chose. 
 I think he was in some respects mad, and sub- 
 
12 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 sequent events will show wiiy I think so. He was 
 a barrister by nominal calling, and he practised 
 poetry and other curious things by choice. 
 
 "Well/' I asked him, '^ what have you to 
 say?^^ 
 
 '^ Not much you would care to listen to." 
 
 " Why, have you struck a new vein of 
 romance ? Got some more quartz and think it 
 diamond ? " 
 
 " Oh, you are a blind man and a deaf adder. 
 You do not know or understand the best things 
 even of this world. You think you do, goodness 
 knows that. If a man were to tell you of the 
 things that make his heart dance and his eyes fill 
 with fierce, triumphant tears, you would only try 
 to find material for a smart remark. If you were 
 on the coach carrying the news of Trafalgar, you 
 would think it bad form to wave your hat, and 
 ridiculous to put laurels in it. If a beautiful 
 girl told you what she had never told man before, 
 in the evening time in autumn, when the red 
 and orange leaves fell in the waterpools, and the 
 mist began to make you shiver, and the sky was 
 pale and cold, and a big planet gazed calmly at 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 13 
 
 you from above tlie purple cloud-streaks — you — 
 you would give her a false name and address to 
 write to which would not compromise you. If 
 you saw the universe developing out of fiery 
 nebulous chaos and the morning stars dancing 
 together, you would say it would be done better 
 at Drury Lane, and not because you really thought 
 so, but because it would be the thing to say. 
 Stanton, you are . a debased incarnation, you are 
 like the nineteenth century, which is the prodigal 
 feeding on the husks of all the others." 
 ^' What is the matter now, McEwan ? '' 
 ''I was walking about last night, trying to 
 find something real, and beautiful, and joyous, 
 and pure in this meaningless and paltry aggre- 
 gation of dirty bricks and mortar, and greed, and 
 money, and squalor, and humbug which the news- 
 papers call Our G-reat Metropolis. I saw all the 
 daily filth of train, and 'bus, and tram, all the 
 shouting, and advertising, and lying, which make 
 day hideous ; all the vanity and the hunting after 
 gold and pleasure, which make night infernal; 
 all the defiling pitch which is the only mirror for 
 the stars, and I found ono serene, happy, beau- 
 
14 AN UNFORTUNATE ABItANGEMENT. 
 
 tiful girl's face, full of loveliness and innocence ; 
 andj perchance, I shall never see it again. Stanton, 
 I am going away from London/' • 
 
 '^So am I." 
 
 '^I am going away to wliere men and women 
 lead simpler, pleasanter, and more honest and 
 friendly lives ; where there is not yet the hurry 
 of competition and the fever of money-hunting ; 
 where art is not a question of money and popu- 
 larity and advertisement; where a man takes for 
 granted that the stranger in his gates is an honest 
 fellow because experience has not yet taught him 
 otherwise. I am sick of London. It is deadly, 
 dreary, and abominable, and desolate. I go to- 
 night. That face has saved me, or I might have 
 become one of the million routing swine in the 
 dark woods of Don't Care." 
 
 " Where did you see her, and who was it ? " 
 
 "No matter." 
 
 "Well, I'm away to-night." 
 
 " Where are you going then ? " 
 
 " Oh, to Paris. And then, I don't know. It 
 depends." 
 
 " You know I am what is called a dissi- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 15 
 
 pated fellow; I am not what would be selected 
 to adorn At Homes. I do not dress properly, 
 aid I do not take pains to say the thing I do 
 not mean, and am, therefore, never likely to be 
 a social success, nor do I want to be. I am 
 wonderfully lonely, for nobody really cares one 
 snap what becomes of me. I don^t want fame 
 particularly, and if I did, I would not get it. I 
 have no relations whom I want to see, or who want 
 to see me, and I have no future to hope for, and 
 no past to be proud of, and London makes me 
 feel like a lost child — and that face came like an 
 angel who cared for the unknown, lost children, 
 who have no one to help them, or lift them out 
 of their sorrow and abasement. And I went home, 
 or to the place I call home now, and lay down 
 on my bed and cried on the pillow, and wished 
 I had a father, and a. mother, and a God to take 
 compassion on me. And I lay awake all night 
 thinking of that face, and of the time when I 
 was a child with a dead mother, and my poor 
 old father walked miles away to the country town 
 to buy a birthday toy for me, and I broke it. 
 It was not temper, or wilfulness, it was an accident, 
 
16 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 and lie knew I was very sorry, and did not do 
 it on purpose; but I could torture myself now 
 for doing it. I know lie was sorrier than I was. 
 And ho has no child now to play with him in 
 the summer evenings. I£ he knows, where he is, 
 he knows that he has a foolish failure of a rdan 
 for a son, who staggers through the valley of 
 the shadow of death, stringing sad rhymes, and 
 is not always sober." 
 
 " Have a brandy and soda, McEwan ? '^ 
 
 " No ; but I'll have a whisky. Your Glenlivat 
 is trustworthy." 
 
 McEwan began to cheer up in a minute or 
 two when he had had his whisky, which was 
 just like him. I asked him why he, not being 
 a millionaire, or even a peasant proprietor with 
 a compulsory allotment of anything except a 
 morbid brain, did not do something. 
 
 "You are supposed to be a genius, and to be 
 able to write poetry. Very well, why don't you 
 write it? I see lots of verse in various forms 
 of publication. Probably you could write as good, 
 or better, and they are paid for mostly, I believe ? " 
 
 " I do write verses. I do not mind even selling 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 17 
 
 them. Bat you must understand that there is 
 a perverse unanimity displayed by everybody in 
 disliking them. I have published a few. The 
 critics are invariably offended, at which I am 
 not surprised. I sent these two things yesterday, 
 by way of a joke, one to the Evangel Herald, 
 and the other to a Society paper. Listen/' and 
 McEwan took some rather crumpled bits of blue 
 paper out of his pocket and read : 
 
 "THE GKANDMOTHER," A PASTORAL SKETCH. 
 ('' This is the one I sent to the Evangel Herald.''} 
 
 So you're just seventeen to-day ; 
 
 Dear me, how fast time goes ! 
 Our winter's turning into May, 
 
 Our rosebud to a rose. 
 
 Ko better time in Hfe I ween — 
 
 I think I ought to know, 
 For I was only seventeen 
 
 Some sixty years ago. ^ 
 
 Since then, my spring rose, I have seen 
 
 Some gladness and much woe; 
 Since then, when I was seventeen, 
 
 Some sixty years ago. 
 
 I've seen great changes everywhere, 
 
 I've seen my hair turn gray, 
 I've seen the meat get plaguey dear, 
 I've seen my last birthday. 
 VOL. I. Cf 
 
18 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 I've seen my lover's lips grow cold, 
 
 Seek other, younger lips, 
 I've seen my rivals growing old, 
 
 I've seen the Great Eclipse. 
 
 I had a lover once, and I 
 
 Did just what you will do, 
 Went out to meet hira on the slv, 
 
 And stayed out latish too. 
 
 I disremember most we said, 
 
 I don't recall his name ; 
 I've had a lot of chaps, since dead, 
 
 Who went on just the same. 
 
 Love-making is a pleasant game 
 
 At first, when you begin ; 
 At my age 'taint at all the same, 
 
 And not a patch on gin. 
 
 But howsomever, you go on, 
 
 Catch all the chaps you can. 
 From Noah down to Solomon, 
 
 There's no fool like a man. 
 
 If they should ask me to be Queen, 
 
 I don't think I should go, 
 I'd rather have back seventeen, 
 
 Arid sixty years ago. 
 
 " Now this," he continued, placidly, " is what I 
 Bent to a Society paper full of prurient paragraphs, 
 and railing accusations against Royal persons.^ 
 
 )i 
 
 They stand, and arc ringing the whole world round 
 With the chain of their stainless hands, 
 
 Their infinite heart-beat one great, sad sound. 
 The kinsmen of countless of lands 
 
AIT UNFORTUNATE ABRANGEMEl^T. 19 
 
 Who thunder the truth to a world of lies, 
 
 Where creed still massacres creed, 
 Who plant the lilies of Paradise 
 
 In the mud of the mobs and their greed. 
 
 They stand as the lighthouses, beaten about 
 
 With breakers, and girt with light ; 
 They are lonely, and wearying, wearying out 
 
 To shed on a dark world light. 
 
 Till the tempest that darkens the starlight cease, 
 
 Till the roar of the storm be stayed, 
 Till the dawn of the morning of infinite peace, 
 
 They shall stand and shall not be afraid. 
 
 "TLey sent botH back, of course/^ 
 
 "I should tbink they would. It would be 
 interesting to know, McEwan, wbich is tbe one 
 you meanj and wbicb is tbe affectation one ? Of 
 course, I know it's a perfect lie tbat you sent eitber 
 of tbem to anytbing. You only wanted an excuse 
 for reading tbem. But wbicb is tbe real one ? " 
 
 "Both. Eacb represents a perfectly real and 
 natural frame of mind of my own.^^ 
 
 "You are a curious creature. Now please let 
 me lower you down from your ideal star-gazing to 
 my basement of aspbalte prose. Let us examine tbat 
 ]ast, tbe one you mean to be serious, in tbe cold 
 
 ligbt of reason." 
 
 C 2 
 
20 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't/^ said McEwan, plain- 
 tively, " you won^t do it any good. I think the cold 
 light of reason is a useful paraplirase for the muddy 
 darkness of spiritual myopy, commonplace cataract, 
 and beastly blindness. The pig rooting in a 
 trough selects the nice, juicy, expedient carrion, and 
 shoves the jewel out of the way — cold light of 
 reason. The people who own the premises where 
 a ghastly crime has been committed, charge the 
 public a penny a head to come in and find, if 
 possible, a bloodstain. That is the true business 
 instinct, which I suppose is the result of viewing 
 life in the cold light of reason. You deny the 
 utility of anything good or beautiful, you poison 
 trees with factory reek, you send iron girders 
 across a firth, you regulate a workman's pay by 
 an obligatory minimum. Cold light of reason 
 again. Well, speak on." 
 
 ** Of course, I know your view of life would not 
 feel flattered if I called it rational, and I don't. 
 But as for your people who spend their time 
 preaching to a deaf world, and hoping and wait- 
 ing for a very dubious future, they are wasting 
 their time and that of the public. You had 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 21 
 
 mucli better study how to be comfortable and 
 happy." 
 
 '^ I do not resist comfort and happiness. " I 
 only want to find them, and to find a way to 
 understand and justify existence and things in 
 general/' 
 
 *^ You have intellect enough to know that any 
 idea of existence which involves a general ad- 
 herence to what men call justice is incapable of 
 comprehension. People do what they like, and get 
 what they can, at each other^s expense if necessary, 
 and I don't see why not; but good and bad systems 
 of ethics are either generalisations of expediency, 
 or mere words, and sentiments, and formless 
 echoes." 
 
 *^ I don't think I have intellect enough to grasp 
 all that, Stanton ; I know those mere sentiments, 
 those formless echoes, and men's devotion to them 
 and fulfilment of them make and have made the 
 poor world better and happier, and life less of a 
 dark struggle in a weary place. They make the 
 difference between the fog and the starlight. They 
 make the difference between the Cordeliers of 
 Catalonia and the Augustinian friar of Wittenberg. 
 
22 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 Do yoa suppose a generalisation oE expediency 
 impelled Sir Richard Grenville to fight fifty-three 
 Spanish line-of-battle ships all day and all night 
 even to death off Flores ? Or mere words and 
 formless echoes which kept General Gordon stead- 
 fast in the place where General expediency had left 
 him ? " 
 
 '^Bat sadly, now, my dear Maker, don't yon 
 think those people so eccentric and exceptional, 
 and so blind to their own advantage as to be 
 almost mad ? " 
 
 " Then God help the sane people ! Look you, 
 Stanton, I don't know how much of what you say 
 is true, and how much is assumed for purposes of 
 dialectics, devil's advocacy, and swagger; but I 
 strongly suspect that you really mean something 
 quite different." 
 
 " I don't think I have ever given any one 
 reason to say that I did not act up to my ideas as 
 I express them." 
 
 '^ Perhaps not; but you have probably never 
 been put in a really great dilemma of choosing 
 between what is noble and what is not." 
 
 " I have often had to choose between what is 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 23 
 
 pleasant and what is unpleasant, and have in- 
 variably found myself in a compact working 
 majority for the former/' 
 
 *' Perhaps you'll find it the other way some day, 
 and then Somebody will have to resign, don't you 
 know. When are you going abroad ? " 
 
 *' I leave for Flushing to-night. You are oS 
 somewhere, too, I think you said ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm going to-morrow. I'm going to look 
 at the Salon, and see how Paris is getting on." 
 
 And, in fact, I went. And I got into what I 
 call a really great dilemma, with McEwan's as- 
 sistance, in a way neither he nor I suspected. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Nellie Potter was in tlie garden picking a few 
 roses and fern-leaves to put in the glass stand 
 with three twisted lily-shaped branches, which 
 was in the middle of the drawing-room table. 
 The garden was a delightful place, hidden from 
 the north wind by the long facade of the parsonage, 
 which was of gray limestone, covered with myrtle, 
 pierced by small latticed windows opening and 
 shutting on hinges, with wide sills inside them 
 covered with books and baskets and miscellaneous 
 small homely things, so thick was the ancient wall. 
 The myrtle round these windows had often to be 
 trimmed back, or the dining-room, and study, 
 and drawing - room would be totally dark inside 
 those little square embrasures, the floor being 
 about two feet lower in the rooms than the level 
 of the garden outside. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 25 
 
 Then there was a sunlit lawn over whicli in 
 places fell the dark shadows of a cedar-tree, and 
 a few oaks. Between and among these trees grew 
 laurel, deodar, and laurustinus, shutting away the 
 road which led round to the front door from the 
 public road. This barricade of trees and shrubs 
 was on the east of the garden, so that it was only 
 open on two sides, and those were the best and 
 pleasantest sides, for on the south, beyond a 
 sloping haylield or two, was the sea, and you 
 could see the distant ships go by from the 
 parsonage garden by simply looking, while if you 
 went to one of the bedrooms on the first storey 
 (where the windows were shaded at the top by 
 about a foot of projecting thatch), you could see 
 a great deal more of it, and the sand at low 
 water too. 
 
 On the west were barley and wheat fields, 
 and then green ground rose gently till it reached 
 a little patch of fir-wood, in the dark middle of 
 which rose a gray stone spire, a thick, short, sharp 
 octagonal spire. Past that, the ground rose again 
 till it came to a gray stone quarry, where such 
 stone was yet dug as that from which church and 
 
26 AN UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 
 
 parsonage, yea, and most of the village were 
 built. 
 
 Honeysuckle and clematis depended beauti- 
 fully on the more stalwart and virile shrubs in 
 the parsonage garden, -while standard roses grew 
 about the lawn, and climbing roses clustered 
 round the windows, and were splendidly mingled 
 with the ivy and myrtle which covered the walls. 
 Near the study window, at the western extremity 
 of the garden front, stood a yew, and over the 
 yew, clambered, and clung, and twined, and hung 
 a white convolvulus. All along the length of the, 
 house ran a narrow border, in which all sorts of 
 flowers grew, lilies, violets, poppies, iris, evening 
 primroses, foxgloves and such-like. Between the 
 border and the lawn was a wide gravel walk, and 
 on the gravel walk was a garden bench, a wooden 
 bench painted dark green, of vast antiquity, and 
 doubtful strength. On that bench lay the basket in 
 which were the flowers already gathered. . There 
 were to be some for the dining-room table, and a 
 few for the spare room, for a visitor was coming. 
 
 It was a day in the latter part of June, warm 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 27 
 
 and sunlit, with a blue sky and an atmosphere 
 flavoured with rose, sjringa, violet, honeysuckle, 
 and the sea. 
 
 Nellie Potter was the daughter, the only 
 daughter of the parson. She had been born 
 in this place nineteen years ago, and had never 
 left it except for a fortnight's holiday sometimes 
 to some other sea-side village where her father 
 might take a temporary duty. She had never 
 even been away to school, for her education, such 
 as it was, had been the combined work of her 
 , father, mother, and a daily governess. Her father 
 had contributed desultory Latin and fragmentary 
 Euclid, and an uncertain amount of philosophic 
 theology, of a dreamy, kindly, clever kind, and 
 a good deal of the art of gardening. Her mother 
 had very thoroughly instructed her in the duties 
 of house-keeping, tidiness, economy, and good 
 behaviour, and all the thousand and one little 
 recipes and dodges of an old-fashioned country 
 home for making fires burn, killing moths, folding 
 sheets, cleaning china, making jam, feeding fowls, 
 preserving eggs and goodness knows how much 
 
28 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 besides, to say nothing of good_, decided, clean- 
 cut, dogmatic religion, with nothing the least 
 dreamy about it at all. 
 
 Her governess had taught her some arithmetic, 
 including fractions ; some French, including several 
 of the irregular verbs, and the reading of a very, 
 very moral, not to say affected and priggish, tale 
 bound in pink paper ; some German, including 
 the declension and subsequent hideous confusion 
 of der, die, das, in all their inflexions, and the 
 breaking down despairingly at the dative and 
 genitive plurals of die gute alte Frau, and der gute 
 alte Wein ; some history, including King Alfred 
 in the neatherd's cottage, and the spotless virtue 
 of King Charles the Martyr, and Queen Mary 
 his beautiful and blameless grandmother, and an 
 immense quantity of industrious practising at 
 the piano. 
 
 Nellie Potter was usually clad in all the dis- 
 figuring dowdincss with which a village dress- 
 maker, a village draper, and a village bootmaker 
 could invest her. At this moment she wore a 
 broad-brimmed garden hat of straw, which was 
 certainly more becoming than the "best" one 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 29 
 
 whicli sho wore to go to cliurcli in, and shaded 
 a very pretty face, and a sunburnt little neck, 
 with, black hair straying here and there from 
 its pins at the back. Her dress was an old blue 
 serge, useful for domestic duties, with no pretence 
 to style, and a large brown holland apron with 
 a bib, but even these failed to disguise the fact 
 that nature had endowed her with a most comely 
 and desirable body, and a " good figure " as the 
 ladies call it. Her hands were encased in a large 
 pair of gardening gloves, which were picked up 
 and used by anybody who wanted them from 
 the hall table, and fitted nobody in particular ; 
 but when she took them off it might be seen 
 that her hands were small, and sinewy, and 
 brown, and of an excellent shape, while her 
 feet were libelled by durable, but formless and 
 roomy shoes of the description known as Oxfords. 
 And she was happy in a placid kind of way, and 
 quite satisfied with things in general, and looked 
 forward with some excitement to the arrival of 
 the expected visitor, her cousin Ida, whom she 
 had not seen since they were both children. 
 Nellie had a really lovely face, with large, dark- 
 
30 AX UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 bluo eyes, with black lashes and brows — eyes 
 which looked full of serious contemplation — calm, 
 deep eyes^ with, as yet, no self-consciousness, nor 
 paltry archness, nor man-seeking glance. She had 
 a slightly aquiline nose, a beautiful, rather sad 
 mouth — such as may be seen in one or two pictures 
 by Sandro Botticelli — and a healthy, tawny skin — 
 not like cream, or satin, or olives, or alabaster at 
 all ; not like anything except the skin of a well- 
 born, well-bred, well-fed, dark-haired English girl, 
 who lived in a good atmosphere, and took a bath 
 every morning. There was the faintest trace of 
 down on her upper lip, and rather more visible 
 traces on her arms and on the nape of her neck. 
 Although healthy and strong, she was not at all 
 stout, but rather slender and wiry, and looked a 
 little taller than she was. 
 
 The life she led was a very calm, and placid, 
 almost a monotonous life, which had not called for 
 the exercise of any important or exceptional quali- 
 ties in her ; and one wondered, when looking at 
 her, what possibilities might or might not be latent 
 in that young beauty, all unawakened to the ways 
 and the woes of the world. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 31 
 
 She did all her little duties cheerfully enough, 
 was kind to children at school-feasts, went to see 
 poor — very comfortably poor — people in the village, 
 and was pleasant, civil, and intelligent to her 
 neisrhbours, but sometimes felt that some of the 
 things she heard said — some of the curators ser- 
 mons even — were a little stupid, and sometimes 
 had a passing yearning for a really well-made, 
 fashionable dress, nice long, wrinkling gloves, and 
 a becoming black hat, large, with something red in 
 it — poppies, or the like. And she read poetry and 
 novels, such as she could get, which were certainly 
 of a most blameless character; for nothing likely 
 to bring the blush to the cheek of modesty was 
 likely to come to the parsonage from the circu- 
 lating library. That library, by the way, had 
 rather a languid circulation, and was kept at a 
 chemist's shop. 
 
 While she was still selecting roses and fern- 
 leaves, her father came round the corner of the 
 house from the front door, whence one arrived 
 at the garden through a dark and narrow pas- 
 sage in the shrubs — almost a secret passage — with 
 his hat in one hand and his stick in the other. 
 
32 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 The Rev. Arthur Potter, M.A., Oxon., was a 
 middle-aged man, with a thin, long face, an aqui- 
 line nose, and a mouth and forehead which always 
 looked mildly surprised and a little puzzled. He 
 had iron-gray hair and closely-clipped side whis- 
 kers, belonging to the era preceding the beard 
 movement among the Anglican priesthood. He 
 wore the usual long, black, single-breasted coat, 
 and carried the usual black, broad felt hat in his 
 hand, and now put it on his head, having come out 
 of the house rather in a hurry, from suddenly re- 
 membering he had to go to the station, and that 
 it was getting late. He was about five feet ten in 
 apparent height, and was not very robustly built, 
 and had the indescribable but easily - recognised 
 voice which the clergy so often acquire in the 
 course of their professional career. I do not mean 
 that his voice was affected ; it was an acquired 
 vocal manner, of which he was quite unconscious. 
 
 *' Oh, are you going to the station?" said Nellie. 
 
 " Yes. I'm going to meet this young lady. I 
 suppose she will be grown out of all recollection 
 now. It must be ten years since we saw her and 
 poor Charles. '^ 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 33 
 
 ''Yes_, I should think so. If you will wait a 
 minute, while I take off this apron and these gloves^ 
 and put on my hat, I will come down to the station 
 with you." 
 
 " Well_, but don't be long, because it is getting 
 on/' 
 
 ^' No, papa." And she snatched up the basket 
 of roses and the snippers and ran away. 
 
 It should be said that *'poor Charles'' was 
 Mr. Potter's brother, who in early life set his mind 
 on being an artist, and became one, and was con- 
 sequently regarded by his family as one of the 
 lost — a kind of blameless outcast, who devised 
 works of gigantic genius in a fireless garret, with 
 a starving family round him ; a picturesque Bohe- 
 mian, with a velvet coat, and a beard, and a large, 
 broad-brimmed hat, who lived on a little bread and 
 cheese, and married some poor girl who shared his 
 poverty and sat for his figures. Mind you, they 
 did not blame " poor Charles ; " they only pitied 
 him, and respected him in a vague kind of way — 
 that is, they pitied a creature of the imagination 
 which did not in any way resemble their relative in 
 distant London. For the real Charles Potter was 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 
 
 not poor at all, but had, on the average, a much 
 better income than the Rev. Arthur, and lived in a 
 fine large house in Kensington, with a garden, and 
 electric lights, and a carriage, and man cook. 
 Moreover, he was not Bohemian in the very least, 
 but went out in a tall hat, and frock coat, and 
 primrose gloves; belonged to an expensive and 
 very dull club ; had married, and buried, the 
 daughter of a man who was in a large way in 
 Argentine wheat, hides, and copper ; while his 
 son, Charlie Potter, was in something good, which 
 required attendance at an office in Throgmorton 
 Street. And his Art consisted in painting por- 
 traits (mostly of Mayors for new Town Halls), and 
 working up '^subjects" of a supposed historic 
 character for the Royal Academy, of which he was 
 a distinguished member. And his daughter was 
 Nellie's cousin Ida. Moreover, he sometimes spoke 
 in intimate circles of " my poor brother the parson,^' 
 having in his mind the starving curate with a large 
 family of the conventional story-book. So that 
 distance and tradition contributed to the concep- 
 tion each had of his kinsman more than fact. 
 Nellie Potter had not seen Ida since both were 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 35 
 
 children, as has been intimated, and did not know 
 the least what to expect, as she and her father 
 paced up and down on the hot, soft asphalte of 
 the little country station, in the afternoon sun- 
 shine. I think Nellie rather expected her cousin 
 to be very shabbily dressed in mourning, and to 
 step out of a third-class carriage, and she meant to 
 be ^Wery kind^^ to her on that account. 
 
 " I should think this place would be a great 
 relief to her,^^ said the Eev. Arthur, *^^ after the 
 heat and noise and stifling streets of London." 
 
 '^ Yes. We must try and make her bathe in 
 the sea, and I will take her walks up the downs. 
 And then she ought to be able to help us in the 
 village with the decorations for the Jubilee. Fm 
 sure they^ll make a mess of it the way they are 
 going on. All the tradesmen " 
 
 (e 
 
 That's about six people — yes, my dear ? '^ 
 
 "They are jealous of each other, and don't 
 
 want one to have something the others haven't got. 
 
 And they want to have a triumphal arch with their 
 
 names on it. They donH seem a bit loyal, really, 
 
 but only think about their wretched shops. There 
 
 goes the signal. The train will be in in a minute. 
 
 It is seven minutes late." 
 
 D 2 
 
36 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 A spasmodic activity began to set in on tlie 
 platform. The solitary porter began to wheel an 
 empty trolly from one end to the other, the driver 
 of the old omnibus from the " Sun '' came on the 
 platform, ready to take down the young lady^s 
 luggage to the parsonage, and the station-master 
 stood in the door of the waiting-room in all the 
 glory of a new tall hat. And then the train came 
 grinding and rattling in, and noisy, empty milk- 
 cans were rolled along the asphalte from the 
 luggage-van, and a solitary passenger emerged 
 from a first-class carriage and handed a dressing- 
 bag and a bundle, consisting of a rolled ulster with 
 an umbrella and a walking-stick with a gold head 
 stuck through it, to the porter, who had suddenly 
 become active and servile. 
 
 This passenger was Miss Ida Potter, who was 
 clad in a beautifully-made tawny homespun, a 
 neat little hat with a white bird's wing on it, long 
 Swedish gloves the exact colour of her dress, and 
 marvellous brown russia-leather boots such as 
 Nellie^s eyes had never dwelt on. She carried a 
 dull red sunshade with a large, ring-shaped handle. 
 Before the good parson and Nellie had quite 
 
4iV UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 37 
 
 recovered their presence of mind, this portent had 
 quietly walked up to them, greeted them both 
 dutifully, and said, " Isn't it awfully hot ? '^ 
 
 And they set off to walk down to the par- 
 sonage, Ida declining with decision the offer of 
 the omnibus. 
 
 '^ I don^t want you to think, because I come 
 from town, that I have not got the use of my 
 legs/' she said, with a pleasant laugh. '^ Besides, 
 I have been sitting still for the last three or four 
 hours ; the Great Southern is such a horribly slow 
 line." 
 
 Nellie was surprised again. In the circle in 
 which she had been brought up, young ladies did 
 not have legs ; at any rate, they ignored their exist- 
 ence, and did not mention them before even elderly 
 and clerical uncles. Here the porter came running 
 after them, and said : 
 
 " The young lady 'ave left these yer in the 
 train.'' And he handed Ida The Worldj Modern 
 Society J and The Sporting Times, She laughed, 
 and rolled them quickly up. 
 
 " Thanks very much.'' 
 
 When the porter had gone, she said to Nellie ; 
 
S8 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 "I meant to leave them in the train, of course. 
 But perhaps you would like to look at them/' 
 
 On the way home they met Mr. Simson, the 
 curate, a tall, limp, fair young man, with a long 
 neck and an eye-glass, who had secret determi- 
 nations to make what he called " Divane Savice '' 
 warmer, by gradual and judicious suggestions to 
 Mr. Potter. He was at once overcome at the 
 sight of Ida, dropped his eye-glass, took off his 
 hat, bowed, grew hopelessly shy, and said : 
 
 '< Er " 
 
 After a long course of fishermen's wives, and 
 bathing women, and farmers, it was a shock to 
 see a real young lady, who, as the phrase goes, 
 might have stepped out of a fashion-plate. How- 
 ever, he had something to say, and he said it. 
 
 " I met Dow just now, and he tells me their 
 minister is dead — the Congregationalist, you know 
 — and Dow wants to know if they can have 
 * Reverend ' on the stone. I told him it was 
 coming it rather strong, in fact, preposterous ; but 
 he asked me to speak to you about it." 
 
 *' Oh dear, yes ; * Right Reverend,' if they 
 like,' replied Mr. Potter. Mr. Simson sighed, aud 
 "was silent. 
 
AK UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 39 
 
 <t 
 
 How is the Jubilee Arch getting on, Mr. 
 Simson ? ^' said Nellie. 
 
 '^ Well, it might be said to be er — scudding 
 under bare poles at present. Young Bolder is at 
 the top, uncoiling minnie males of wiah — qUpppah 
 wiah.'^ 
 
 Mr. Simson was a gentle soul, and enjoyed a 
 still more conspicuous voice than Mr. Potter, and 
 was considered a very good intoner. He was 
 a blameless young man, but a trifle affected. 
 Naturally he had no idea that the gorgeous vision 
 of London elegance he saw before him would 
 imitate him afterwards, walking about' the spare 
 room with a half-crown in her left eye, talking 
 about '* minnie males of wiah — coppah wiah ; '^ or 
 would nickname him on the spot, and for ever, 
 Coppah Wiah, adding : '' What a pity his front 
 name isn't Hezekiah ; you might make a little 
 song about it.'' 
 
 Nellie sat on the bed and laughed, and felt 
 that this cousin of hers was going to open her 
 eyes in more ways than one. By the way, nothing 
 has been said of Ida Potter's personal appearance. 
 And the time when she is getting ready for dinner, 
 and exhibiting to her cousin's wondering eyes the 
 
40 AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 
 
 contents of her basket-trunk and travelling-bag, 
 seems a good opportunity ; for you can see more 
 of her in the interval between the taking off of 
 the tawny homespun and the putting on of a 
 blackface ^^ frock ^^ for dinner at the parsonage. 
 The more Nellie looked at the belongings of her 
 cousin, as one thing after another was revealed, 
 and carelessly cast (if not, indeed, '^chucked") on 
 to the bed by the kneeling Ida, the more she felt 
 convicted of her own entire want of style, and 
 inclined to doubt the family tradition of the 
 poverty-stricken martyr of Art in his attic studio, 
 "bare,^' as the romances put it, '* of all but the 
 merest necessaries." I think the conception of the 
 attic studio was really founded on a visit to the 
 photographer at the nearest town, who had blue 
 skylights, under which he pulled blinds up and 
 down. But those bottles and pots in the dressing- 
 bag had silver tops with elaborate monograms 
 on them ; those brushes were of heavy ivory ; 
 those rings on her young relative's fingers looked 
 as if they had what Nellie called " real stones " in 
 them ; those frocks, though not of conspicuously 
 costly materials, bore a look of first-class dress- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 41 
 
 making about them ; and Ida was now dropping 
 out on tlie floor one or two pairs of boots and 
 slippers, of wliicli tbe collective price miglit be 
 seven or eigbt pounds, wMle the girl bad already 
 confided that the corset she wore bad been " built 
 for me by Madame Somebody — Harris, I think 
 her name is. When you make stays you are 
 always Madame in that respect, though distinctly 
 Harris in all other respects. She told me when 
 I was measured : *Ah, you won't want any padding, 
 miss,' which was very amiable of her. But she 
 can afford to throw in gratuitous compliments, for 
 she charges forty-five shillings/^ 
 
 " I suppose some people do have padding, don't 
 they ? " 
 
 '^ Oh, rather ! And one of the beauties of 
 Madame Harris is that she tells each customer all 
 about the others, and I know of several people 
 pins might be stuck into without attracting their 
 attention. I don't think it's fair on men myself. 
 I don't think a woman who gets admiration under 
 false pretences is at all good form." 
 
 Ida was taller and heavier than Nellie. She 
 was not fat, but contained the promise of one 
 
42 AN UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 
 
 day becoming so, though as yet apt for all the 
 activities of adolescence, and eager for all the 
 enjoyment of and entire participation in what life 
 offers to health and youth. The curves and the 
 straight lines of her body and head, and arms and 
 legs, were, from an artistic point of view, graceful 
 and symmetrical, from a sensuous point of view, a 
 subject for delightful contemplation. 
 
 She had the rather long face of the Potters, 
 like Nellie ; but she had not the black hair or the 
 pathetic mouth of the latter, nor her thoughtful 
 eyes framed in dark fringes. Ida had a mobile hori- 
 zontal line of a mouth, capable of infinite dryness 
 of expression, as also of a quaint and lovely smile, 
 in which the brown-yellow eyes would share. Her 
 hair was very nearly straw-colour, with a glitter in 
 it here and there as of freshly-filed brass. It 
 was very curly by nature, and there was a good 
 deal of it, though, being fine in texture, it went 
 into a small compass when her head was properly 
 tired. Her eyebrows were brown, quite a different 
 colour from the hair; her nose was straight, and 
 her face rather pale, and her skin was not entirely 
 innocent of cosmetics. She was twenty-two years 
 
AK UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 43 
 
 old. She was fond of good things to eat and 
 drink^ was specially fond of mirth and laughter, 
 and not averse to love. 
 
 Nellie was pleased with her cousin on the 
 whole, a little surprised, and not so much shocked 
 as envious, though envy is too unamiable a word 
 to express Nellie's innocent desire to wear such 
 nice things and know apparently so much about 
 the world, and have such calm self-assurance. 
 It was akin to the admiration of a schoolboy for 
 his '^ major ^' who has gone to the University and 
 learned to smoke with impunity. 
 
 Before the two girls went down to dinner, Ida 
 put one of the roses Nellie had liberally adorned 
 the room with in her hair, and said, standing at 
 the window: ^^What' a delightful garden you 
 have ! That is one of the blessings of the country, 
 you have a real garden and flowers. A London 
 garden is always a little artificial somehow, and is 
 sure to have a railway squeaking about somewhere 
 outside the wall.'^ 
 
 " Yes. It is thought pretty. We will go and 
 take a turn in it after dinner if you like, if you 
 are not too tired."' 
 
44 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 '' Tired ! My dear child, Fve done nothing to 
 make me tired yet. You wait ! I am going to walk 
 and swim in a way that will emulate even your 
 active habits before I leave here. I suppose we 
 can bathe in the sea, can't we ? '' 
 
 " Oh yes. I bathe a good deal.'' 
 
 " Good swimmer ? " 
 
 " Oh no. I can't swim. I just splash about in 
 my depth." 
 
 ^' Well, ni try and teach you. I rather swagger 
 on my sensation headers. Oh, look here," she 
 suddenly added, reopening the basket-trunk, *' I 
 haven't shown you this." And Ida pulled a 
 garment of blue and white stripes, bearing a 
 general resemblance to the tunic of a professional 
 athlete, except that it had frills at the edges of the 
 holes where the neck and arms and legs came 
 through. 
 
 " What on earth is that ? " said Nellie. 
 
 "That is my bathing-dress. It is generally 
 admired." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Nellie, who habitually immersed 
 herself in a long blue gown of the fearless old 
 fashion. And they went downstairs, and found 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGE2IENT. 45 
 
 Mrs. Potter in the drawing-room looking at tlie 
 Jubilee number of The Graphic, Mrs. Potter was 
 a very good-looking lady somewhere near fifty, with 
 gray hair, blue eyes, a kind heart, and a decided 
 character, which was lucky, for her husband, 
 though in many respects a most estimable man, 
 and rather clever, was a most persuadable and 
 gelatinous person as regarded decision of any sort, 
 often to the great trial of her patience. Mrs. 
 Potter had been a Miss Ann Struthers, of some- 
 where in the Lothians. Her brother. Dr. John 
 Struthers, was a placed minister in Leith, and some- 
 times came south for a holiday and dwelt awhile at 
 the parsonage as a guest, to the scandal of Mr. 
 Simson. 
 
 *^ And how did you leave your papa, dear ? ^' 
 asked Mrs. Potter, to which Ida replied that he 
 was very well. 
 
 " And is he working very hard just now ? I 
 suppose he is taking a bit of a rest now the 
 Academy is going on/' 
 
 " He has had some very good commissions this 
 year certainly. He's got a couple of hundred 
 already out of the Academy pictures, and then one 
 
46 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 of them will be engraved, and I think there ought 
 to be some good royalties oat of that." 
 
 Nellie thought this sounded a little matter of 
 fact and not quite ideally artistic. Meanwhile a 
 little maid tinkled a little bell in the hall and they 
 all went in to dinner. 
 
 Dinners at the parsonage were always plenteous 
 and wholesome, with good fresh country materials, 
 becomingly cooked, for Mrs. Potter was an ex- 
 cellent housekeeper, and kept the servants up to 
 their duty, and made sure that there was enough 
 of everything and that nothing was wasted. The 
 wine left one something to desire, for Mr. Potter 
 was responsible for it, and became the ready victim 
 of grocers' catalogues, and believed in labels. Mrs. 
 Potter had instructed the little parlour-maid to put 
 a decanter of claret and a decanter of sherry on the 
 table when there was company. 
 
 Ida took claret, and, after tasting it, diluted it 
 freely, a silent testimony to its hopeless badness, 
 for Ida was not the girl to spoil the taste of real 
 claret with water, and knew quite well what she 
 was about, though Mrs. Potter encouraged her to 
 take it in its unmitigated form, saying : " A little 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 47 
 
 wine will do you good^ and bring back the roses 
 to your cheeks again/' to which Ida said : " Oh, 
 thanks so much, auntie, but I don't think I ever 
 had any roses. I'm afraid I'm not built — I don't 
 think it's in my constitution to have them." 
 
 DurinsT dinner the conversation turned on the 
 hot weather, the Jubilee, the unpunctuality of the 
 Great Southern trains, the exact age of the Queen, 
 the really best way to catch mice, whether it was 
 the best plan to deal at the Stores, Mr. Gladstone, 
 Mr. Simson, the case of the deceased divine who 
 was to have *' Reverend " on his tombstone, whether 
 it was cheaper to buy strawberry jam ready made 
 or to make it out of one's own strawberries and 
 buy the sugar. 
 
 Mrs. Potter said that her brother. Dr. Struthers, 
 was going abroad for a holiday for a short time, at 
 which Ida said that she and her father were also 
 going abroad very soon. " And, auntie, I want you 
 to let Nellie come with us. I am sure it will do 
 her good, and we will enjoy it so much more 
 together." 
 
 Nellie was startled and excited. To go abroad ! 
 To actually visit foreign countries, where irregular 
 
48 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 verbs and the genitive plural of der gute alte Mann 
 were recklessly indulged in by the natives ! The 
 girl who has lived all her life in a seaside English 
 village remote from any large town, and not in 
 the track of the ordinary tourist, and never 
 travelled more than thirty miles from it, and that 
 to stay with an aged grandfather and grandmother, 
 will be able to feel with Nellie in her delighted 
 and eager hope that her parents would "see their 
 way" to letting her accept this offer. Of course 
 they said it required talking over. Mrs. Potter 
 would not like to decide in a hurry, and Mr. Potter 
 never really decided anything, though he could "talk 
 over^' a thing to any extent with any number of 
 people and be partly convinced by them all. 
 
 " Where was your papa thinking of going, 
 dear ? " asked Mrs. Potter, by way of gaining time 
 and seeing her way more clearly into the subject. 
 
 "Oh, we worked it out on the map together 
 a few days ago. As soon as the weather began to 
 get hot, we thought how nice it would be to get 
 away from town and be somewhere where we 
 can be lazy and comfortable, and dress anyhow. 
 And it is so much more chauge to go abroad. I 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 49 
 
 know people are always saying that there is a 
 great deal to go and see in one's own country. 
 I don't say there isn't, and I don't say anything 
 against my own country, but I do say that it is 
 more change and more interesting to go to a 
 foreign because it is foreign. There is a new 
 climate, and new ideas, and new speech, and new 
 habits, as well as a new place. The dialogue is 
 different as well as the scenery." 
 
 " Yes, there would seem to be something in 
 that view,'' said Mr. Potter. " The mind gets 
 more complete change no doubt. But I am 
 interrupting you." 
 
 " Well, our idea was this : to go to Paris by 
 Dover and Calais, you know, then you only get 
 about an hour of crossing if you get the right 
 boat, stay there a day or two just to see the 
 Salon, then go to Strasburg, and go lazily and 
 gently along, staying just as long as we like, to 
 Heidelberg, Ulm, in Swabia, Munich, splendid 
 place that you know, stay there a good while, 
 then Niirnberg, Wiirzburg, all old towns in Bavaria, 
 you know, charming old spots, and get homewards 
 by Mainz, the Pthine, Cologne, and Brussels. It 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
)} 
 
 J} 
 
 60 AN UNFOUTVNATE ARBANGEMEXT. 
 
 may sound a little commonplace, but I am sure 
 it will be jolly, and tliere are not so many English 
 abroad this year on account of the Jubilee, don*t 
 you know. 
 
 " It sounds a very attractive programme, 
 said Mr. Potter. 
 
 Nellie said nothing. She had the romance of 
 history in her in an elementary form, though 
 perhaps not much else of history but its romance ; 
 she had the feeling of the picturesque which is 
 such a feature of the nineteenth century, and the 
 very names of these places were music to her. 
 
 Mrs. Potter said after some thought : " There's 
 no doubt, my dear, it's very kind of your papa 
 and you to think of Nellie. In any case it is a 
 kindness we'll not forget. But I am thinking — 
 well, it's just this, will this trip not cost a good 
 deal of money? It is just as well to put things 
 in good plain English." 
 
 " Oh dear no, auntie ! Living, and trains, and 
 such-like are much cheaper over there than in 
 England. I assure you we are not at all ex- 
 travagant in our ideas of life ; at least papa isn't. 
 I am, but I get no encouragement to indulge above 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGE3IENT. -51 
 
 a certain limit. But I do hope you^ll let Nellie 
 
 go. There is every symptom of our liking each 
 
 other immensely already, isn't there, Nellie ? And 
 
 I am sure we shall have immense fun." 
 
 Ida was wily as well as good-natured, and 
 
 knew quite well that after the subject had been 
 
 introduced once in Nellie's presence and her hopes 
 
 raised, her parents would not be, indeed, could 
 
 not be, so brutal as to disappoint her, and destroy 
 
 such a splendid air-castle. It was difficult to see 
 
 on what the opposition could build itself in any 
 
 case, once that vis inertice overcome which always 
 
 sets its weight against the unexpected and the 
 
 sudden. Of course Mr. and Mrs. Potter would 
 
 have to talk it over at great length, and get 
 
 quite used to the idea, and ask a great many 
 
 questions about clothes and climates, and perhaps 
 
 even consult the family practitioner, as Nellie, 
 
 though a most healthy girl, was an only child. 
 
 Naturally, having once decided the question in 
 
 the affirmative, an unreasonably long time would 
 
 have to be spent in preparation, the Potters not 
 
 being like Sir Colin Campbell, who, being asked 
 
 when he could start to take the command in India, 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNlVtKSlTY Of 
 
^2 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 said " To-morrow/^ no doubt to the great prostra- 
 tion of the red tape-worms. 
 
 But Ida expected all this, and had opened fire 
 at once in order that Nellie might be brought up 
 to the scratch in time to accompany her back 
 to London, a town which Nellie had not as yet 
 visited. 
 
 In the garden, where the two girls paced up and 
 down after dinner, Ida went into great detail, 
 and described the attractions of the tour in such 
 a way that Nellie was not likely to sleep for 
 suspense about the parental consent. Later in 
 the evening, when they were in the drawing- 
 room, and the lamp was lit, Ida produced a map 
 and they followed the route, which she demon- 
 strated with the point of a pencil. 
 
 At night-time the parent Potters had tacitly 
 come to the understanding that the thing must 
 take place, although they were by no means going 
 to forego the " talking over.^' Still, it was pretty 
 well understood what the result of the debate 
 would be when the question was put. 
 
 In the course of Ida's sojourn at the parsonage, 
 the two girls became great friends, and confided to 
 
^:\^ UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 53 
 
 eacli otiier large numbers of little secrets^ sucli as 
 girls like to talk about, tliougb, to be sure, tbe 
 confidences of the parson's daughter were not of 
 a sensational character, as they hardly well would 
 be under her circumstances, and her cousin^s were 
 perhaps tinged with frivolity, and a prevalence 
 of the masculine ingredient was observable in her 
 experiences. 
 
 Moreover, Ida gave many little hints about 
 such supreme matters as costume, and the most 
 modern details of its arrangement, so that it was 
 noticeable that Nellie's appearance assumed a little 
 more style by judicious treatment even of the 
 materials at her disposal, while it was understood 
 that while in London she should be guided as to 
 the best way in which to expend the small present 
 her parents had hinted at making her to adorn her 
 person withal, Ida saying : " It's an awful shame 
 that a girl as good-looking as you are, with 
 such a lovely figure, should not be set off to 
 advantage as you might be. I can tell you really 
 nice things are half the battle." What the exact 
 object of such battle might be was not explained, 
 but was presumably understood. 
 
54 AN" UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 So they bathed in the sea, and walked on the 
 downs, and sat in -the garden, in the long, hot 
 afternoon, chattering together on these and 
 countless other things, day after day, and were 
 very cheerful and happy in a quiet way, studied 
 the map a good deal, and Nellie was in such a 
 state of delight and anticipation, that she said she 
 felt exactly like a person who has been awakened 
 out of a long sleep. 
 
 "That's exactly what you are," said Ida, ''a 
 Sleeping Beauty in a wood. But, except Coppah 
 Wiah, there doesn't seem to be a prince about 
 here." 
 
 There was certainly a sad lack of young men 
 in that secluded part of the world. Ida kept her 
 hand in, as she flippantly expressed it, with Mr. 
 Simson, who likewise felt like an awakened sleeper, 
 and put a new vigour into the intoning, and made 
 private hexameters containing allusions to Sirens, 
 in which he compared himself to Odysseus, and 
 began to entertain ^' honest doubt," as he called it, 
 as to the necessity of celibacy, a condition he had 
 hitherto thought of vital importance. Finally, it 
 was settled that Nellie was to go. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 *' The time Las gone mucli too quickly here/' said 
 Ida, as they sat out in the garden in the shade of 
 the trees, taking tea, while the lawn lay before 
 them dry and brown in the sunshine of that Jubilee 
 summer we shall not easily forget. 
 
 " When you get to my time of life," said Mrs. 
 Potter, '^you will find it does that in most places. 
 However, I suppose you have enjoyed yourself as 
 it has gone so quickly." 
 
 It was the day before the departure of the two 
 girls for the capital, which was for one of them the 
 first stage of seeing the world. They were sitting 
 in basket chairs round a table, which had been 
 brought out and put under the big cedar, in 
 aromatic shade. Mr. Potter was out, but was 
 expected back shortly. Nellie had imitated her 
 
56 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 cousin, by coming out in no liatj with a sunshade 
 and fan, whereas her earlier manner had been the 
 garden hat and no sunshade. Ida had on a white 
 cotton embroidered frock of the most ordinary 
 material, but as usual of elegant and distinguished 
 cut and style, and most artfully stiffened in the 
 right places so as to hang and swing in the proper 
 manner, and unveil exactly the right length of 
 black silk hose, with crimson dots, when the 
 wearer sat down. She also wore a white silk 
 Garibaldi shirt, which was constructed to be loose, 
 and yet to fit the figure exactly, a feat of some 
 ingenuity. And she lay back lazily in her low, 
 deep basket chair, and fanned herself slowly, 
 looking the picture of reposeful elegance, and 
 not wholly unlike some picture by M. Jan van 
 Beers. 
 
 Mrs. Potter was at first mistrustful of this 
 niece of hers. Ida seemed to her to be rather too 
 fashionable, too much of the earth earthy, too well 
 informed upon subjects which ^*'iu my young days 
 girls knew nothing about." And yet she was 
 bound to admit that the girl was well-mannered, 
 not at all forward, or self-assertive, nor apparently 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 57 
 
 vain, or in any respect insincere. Mrs. Potter 
 rather disapproved of her, but could not lay Iter 
 finger, so to speak, on a definite fault ; therefore, 
 being an honest woman, as well as liking the girl, 
 she abstained from vague criticism, or meaningless 
 innuendo, and came to the conclusion that[she might 
 entrust Nellie to Ida's companionship for a time 
 out of the reach of the ring of the village bells, 
 the sound of the surf on these southern shores, 
 and the eyes of the father and mother which had 
 watched over her for nineteen years. 
 
 Mrs. Potter gave her daughter and niece a 
 discourse on the coming journey, this afternoon, to 
 the following effect : 
 
 "1 thought I would just speak to you both 
 quietly when I had the opportunity. You see, Ida, 
 Nellie is going away further than she has ever been 
 before from home, and is old enough to be re- 
 sponsible for her own conduct, though she knows 
 but little of the world, bad or good, and many 
 things that perhaps you are used to will be new 
 and strange to her. In a few days you will be on 
 the other side of this water, Nellie," went on her 
 mother, looking momentarily at the sea, which lay 
 
58 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 still and blue and glittering in the summer light. 
 Nellie followed her eyes, and said : 
 
 " So I will ! It's all so extraordinary to me, I 
 have hardly realised the details/' 
 
 *'But when you are in yon countries where 
 maybe people and customs are different to ours, or 
 where pleasure maybe sometimes takes precedence 
 of duty, I want you to remember that the same eyes 
 of Grod are seeing you, as in the garden at home, 
 where you used to play when you were a baby. I 
 do not want you to grudge yourself innocent 
 pleasure, and I never did ; but when you are left 
 to your own devices for the first time almost in 
 your life, it is only natural that I should remind 
 you both that there is something else in the world 
 besides amusement and vanity to be sought after, 
 and that the first thing of all is to keep yourself 
 unspotted from the world, which you can only do 
 by the help of Him whose eyes are too pure to 
 behold iniquity. He was our help in ages past, 
 and shall be in years to come, and it will be a bad 
 day for this country if it forgets Him." 
 
 The two girls said nothing. Ida's fan had ceased 
 to move. Mrs. Potter went on : '^ I don't say that 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 59 
 
 tlie world is very bad in many ways. God made 
 it, and it exists, througli Him, doubtless for some 
 excellent purpose, thougb I don^t know what that 
 purpose is, and many good and bappy people live 
 in it, as well as pleasant beasties and beautiful 
 flowers. But it is the fact that tbere is mucb tbat 
 is pernicious and degrading among tbe great crowds 
 of men and women who make up what we call the 
 world, and it is very easy to excuse sin, and having 
 excused it, and having admired it, to do it, and 
 forget that the way to be happy and wise is to seek 
 first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. I 
 am getting an old woman now, and perhaps you 
 may think I show signs of it by preaching to two 
 young and happy people, but I have what neither 
 of you have, and that is experience, and I hnoio 
 that righteousness is salvation, and that there 
 is no other kind, though many people may not 
 think so." 
 
 The Rector and Mr. Simson shortly arrived, and 
 were given tea. The Rector wiped his forehead, 
 and said : " We are going to lose these two girls 
 to-morrow, Simson." 
 
 '^ I am sure we shall all miss them," said Mr. 
 
60 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 Simsoiij "with a regretful glance at one of them. 
 Then he put up his glass, and added : '^ I was 
 speaking to the Rector before we came in about 
 the new peal of bells, Mrs. Potter/' 
 
 " Which new peal of bells ?" asked the Rector's 
 wife dryly. 
 
 Mr. Potter explained : " Oh, Simson suggests 
 that it would be rather an improvement. So many 
 churches have them now, and it might prove an 
 attraction to many who are not as frequent in their 
 attendance at services as they might be. There 
 really seems to be something in the idea." 
 
 " We seem to have got on very well with the 
 bell we have, which has been familiar in the ears 
 of the parish, if I may say so without rudeness, 
 since some time before Mr. Simson was born. And 
 if people do not care to come to worship God 
 and hear His Word expounded, I think a pretty 
 peal of bells is but a poor rival attraction." 
 
 "Er — quite so, quite so! " interposed Mr. Simson 
 eagerly, " but it might lead to a greater interest in 
 the service, and we might introduce other and 
 higher attractions as well. Now, if we were to put 
 the choir into surplices " 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 61 
 
 *' I have no doubt more people would come to 
 church. Still more crowded congregations would 
 probably result if my husband were to black his 
 face every Sunday. But what would they come 
 for ? '' 
 
 '^ I must say, my dear/' said th.e Rector, " that 
 this is rather a far-fetched argument/' 
 
 '^ Only putting another colour on the matter/' 
 said Mrs. Potter good-humouredly. " The fact is, 
 Mr. Simson, I have no doubt of the excellence of 
 your intentions, but my early training predisposes 
 me against the means you want to use to carry 
 them out. There is no intrinsic harm in a peal of 
 bells, of course, provided it is not done merely 
 because it is fashionable, which only means follow- 
 ing the lead of other people without regarding the 
 merit or wisdom of the thing, and provided it is 
 paid for. I am afraid it is rather fashionable to 
 get these things on credit, and then beg for the 
 money, which to my mind is not right. It cannot 
 be to the advancement of the glory of God or the 
 dignity of man that a number of respectable women 
 and girls should consider themselves at liberty to 
 beg and cajole money out of strangers who do 
 
62 AN UNFORTUNATE AnUANGEMENT. 
 
 not care twopence for the cause, and often do not 
 know what it is, men who make no pretence to 
 connect religion with the matter, and all to pay a 
 debt the church was not called upon to run into." 
 
 '' Fve been to lots of bazaars, auntie/' said Ida, 
 "and I must say your description does not a bit 
 overstate the matter as far as the behaviour of 
 society is concerned. I think bazaars ghastly 
 bores myself/' 
 
 Now as a bazaar was exactly the thing Mr. 
 Simson had been on the point of proposing, he 
 thought the best thing to do was to change the 
 subject to something less thorny. So he asked 
 what were the places which the two young ladies 
 would visit in the course of the contemplated tour, 
 to which they made suitable replies, and Mr. Potter 
 said : 
 
 ** It is wonderful how easy travelling has been 
 made. Now in my young days, which are veiled 
 in the mists of antiquity " 
 
 " Oh, papa ! '' 
 
 " Well, they are a good long time ago at all 
 events. We used to call that sort of thing the 
 Grand Tour, and it was done on a vast scale of 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 63 
 
 expense by young noblemen witb tlieir tutors, in 
 hired or private carriages, while now Tom, Dick, 
 and Harry can get their return tickets to Tim- 
 buctoo and Botany Bay." 
 
 " I should have thought, uncle/^ said Ida, in a 
 modest, plausible tone, '' that the Grand Tour had 
 gone out before your young days. I am afraid you 
 are trying to make yourself out a little too patri- 
 archal, you know. Why, you can hardly remember 
 a time when there were no railways, for example, I 
 should think." 
 
 ''You young people are getting much too 
 clever," said the Rector, resignedly. He had been 
 used to talking the above kind of inaccurate 
 commonplace to the few parishioners who could 
 talk at all, except about their diseases, their ser- 
 vants, or their money, and it was something new 
 to him to be what he called " taken up," and made 
 him really feel that even a magnificent intellect, 
 such as he at times suspected his own to be, was 
 liable to stiffen and stagnate among the trivial 
 rounds and common tasks of a rural parish, and 
 that idea started him off on a long train of thought 
 going back as far as the Oxford days, when (he 
 
64 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 liad since persuaded himself) lie might have floated 
 on the free deep of a fellowship had he not been 
 cast by fate on the shallows and shores of mar- 
 riage and a parish. ''Lavinaque venit litora^^' he 
 murmured. 
 
 '' I once went on a reading tour in Switzer- 
 land/' continued Mr. Simson ; " the scenery was 
 really tremendous. Baines took the party — you 
 know Baines, Mr. Potter ? Wrote the logic primer, 
 don't you know, for Honour Mods ; he's got a living 
 near Exeter now. It was very jolly indeed. I 
 wish I could do it over again," Simson added, 
 plaintively. 
 
 " There is one thing I hope," said Mrs. Potter, 
 " and that is that you will somewhere come across 
 my brother, as he is going abroad too ; I should 
 think you would be likely to see him somewhere." 
 
 " Where is he going ? " said Ida. 
 
 " Well, I'm not very sure. lie will be leaving 
 Leith with the ship for Rotterdam, he tells me, 
 and will make his way to the Rhine." 
 
 "He will find it at Rotterdam, very easily." 
 
 "I thought it was in Germany?" 
 But you know it goes into the sea at 
 
 ti 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 65 
 
 Rotterdam/^ explained Ida quite gravely, and 
 not in an instructive tone. 
 
 Mrs. Potter was not the least offended, and 
 said : '' Oh, I have no doubt you are right. I 
 never could understand my geography." 
 
 In this kind of harmless general prattle the 
 rest of the afternoon passed. 
 
 In the evening, when the two girls had done 
 dinner, and packed all that could be packed that 
 day, they went for their usual stroll round the 
 garden, and Ida put her arm round Nellie's waist 
 and said : 
 
 " Do you know IVe been awfully happy here.^^ 
 
 '^ I'm very glad. I was afraid you would find 
 it rather dull.'' 
 
 "Dull! Not a bit. I've been improving my 
 health, and I've had you to talk to and go about 
 with, my dear old person, and I am really gone 
 on Coppah Wiah." Nellie giggled — well, let us 
 be charitable, and say ** laughed.'^ 
 
 " Oh, how can you be so silly, Ida ! " 
 
 " Silly ! To admiah Coppah Wiah ? Oh, you're 
 jealous. I say, won't we have a high old time 
 for the next few weeks ? " 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 AN UJSTFORTUKATE AREANGEMENT. 
 
 it 
 
 You can't think how kind it was of you to 
 take me.'' 
 
 ''Oh yes I can. I know just how I should 
 have felt in your place." 
 
 *' Tell me all about it, now. When shall we 
 go, and how ? I like so much to hear about 
 the details, I think they are almost the best 
 part." 
 
 '' We will go after you have been in town a day 
 or two, and had time to get a frock and one or two 
 little things, and go to a theatre and the Academy 
 to see father's pictures, and of course the others 
 too. Then we leave Victoria station at eleven 
 o'clock in the morning and go to Dover, which 
 is a seaport with high, chalk cliffs, with an old 
 castle and forts on the top, awfully picturesque 
 and all that sort of thing; and the train goes 
 riglit along the pier, a great stone pier, you know, 
 and there you look very anxiously out at the 
 water as far off as ever you can see, and if you 
 can discern little white crests of foam you know 
 it's going to roll, and you feel in an awful funk, 
 as you catch sight of two horrid white funnels 
 below the pier on one side waiting for you." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 67 
 
 "I don't believe I shall mind the sea a bit. 
 I've been out in a boat here over and over again. 
 I've even been out in a canoe by myself, when it 
 was fine/' 
 
 " Oh well, I congratulate you. You can devote 
 yourself to looking after me_, for I generally 
 succumb. Father's a disgustingly good sailor, and 
 takes cigars and brandy and soda with the greatest 
 equanimity and cheerfulness, which makes me wild. 
 Well, sometime or other, mercifully, this voyage 
 ends by reaching Calais.- Calais is not a bit like 
 Dover — I don't know why it should be — the 
 country is quite flat, and the town is hardly 
 visible when you land at a long, wooden pier. 
 Oh, I shan't tell you any more about it, to spoil 
 your first impressions." 
 
 " Which country is nicest, France or Germany ? " 
 
 *' Matter of opinion, my dear. Depends on the 
 point of view. The shops are nice in Paris, but 
 horribly dear. The cooking in Germany is not 
 so artistic as in Paris, but it is much cheaper, and 
 on the whole more wholesome. Both countries 
 have good wine, Germany scores by having good 
 beer as well. The men are much bigger and much 
 
 F 2 
 
68 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 better- looking in Germany, and know more and 
 talk less. The French women put a great deal 
 of side on, and strike me as dressing in awful 
 taste. All they aim at is to be conspicuous ; and 
 really even the society people there are awfully 
 fast, you know. I don't mean what we call fast ; 
 the French is different, and sometimes quite 
 beyond the limits, well beyond them, don't you 
 know. The women in Germany are quite proper^ 
 as a rule, but not exactly smart ; indeed, except 
 perhaps in some of the very largest towns, they 
 are a little dowdy, and awfully domestic." 
 
 " I am afraid I am a little dowdy, too," said 
 Nellie ; " but I will try and improve. You must 
 help." 
 
 '^Oh, you'll be all right. With a very little 
 care in your get-up, you'll cut me out entirely. 
 I am a girl who depends very much on her 
 things to be able to make an impression; but 
 you are gifted by nature with your attractions." 
 
 '^ Oh, rubbish, Ida ! I'm sure every one thinks 
 you very pretty; and you take the same size as 
 I do in boots and gloves, although you are taller 
 than I am." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT. 69 
 
 " That's only because you get them too hig, 
 my child ; I'll see to that. What have uncle and 
 aunt tipped you for pocket-money ? '^ 
 
 *' Twenty pounds. I have never had so much 
 in my possession before/' 
 
 " Oh, that will be quite enough. You will 
 get just one good frock in town to wear anywhere 
 abroad. Take any old ones to wear in trains. 
 Then you must have a proper hat, and a light 
 summer jacket, and a pair of decent boots, also 
 of indoor slippers to be worn out of doors when 
 weather and circumstances allow, and gloves you 
 have enough of already. You want any dirty old 
 ones for actual travelling, you know, and it's as 
 well to have a clean pair in your pocket to put 
 on afterwards, when you have washed your hands 
 and want to go out without unpacking.'' 
 
 '^ Oh, don't you wish it was to-morrow, and we 
 were off ? " exclaimed Nellie-, thinking of unknown 
 glories of London shops, as well as the subsequent 
 delights of strange lands. 
 
 '^ By the way, what time is the train ? " 
 
 "From here? Eleven forty -three. Gets to 
 London about three o'clock." 
 
70 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " All right. I'll wire to-morrow from the station 
 here to have the carriage to meet us. That will 
 give us plenty of time to have tea and rest, and 
 then after dinner (we have not included any evening 
 things in your trunk, my dear, because we shall 
 not dress for dinner, or have parties^ you know, 
 just in the two days or so we are in Londou) we 
 will go out incognito with Charlie. What would 
 you like to see? Because I may as well wire 
 Charlie to take places for something." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, I must think. I expect 
 you know best what I'd like. "Won't they be 
 awfully startled if you telegraph ? I know we 
 should he." 
 
 " No, I don't think so. I say, what an awfully 
 good woman auntie is ! I wish sometimes I'd 
 been properly brought up by my mother; but you 
 know, poor thing, she died when I was quite a 
 little girl. Of course^ father is always very nice, 
 and has done his best ; but my education, I should 
 think, must appear to you to lack femininity." 
 Nellie felt very much for the girl who had 
 no mother, but did not quite know what to say, 
 except : 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 71 
 
 "I am sure we don't tliink anything of tKe 
 sort. I like you very mucli/' 
 
 Ida kicked a pebble along the gravel path, and 
 seemed tkougbtful. Tben her volatile mind took 
 a skip in a new direction, and she said : 
 
 " I wonder if we shall meet any nice men ia 
 our travels ? '^ 
 
 " I wonder^'' said Nelhe. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The morrow came witli a bright sun, a blue sky, 
 a high thermometer, and good auspices, and Nellie 
 rose at an unnaturally early hour from inability 
 to sleep, finished all her packing, and was out, 
 saying good-bye to the garden and the seashore, 
 and the fowls, and the cow, while the first blue 
 threads of smoke were going up straight in the 
 still air from the thatched cottages of the village, 
 and the fir-wood round the church looked blue 
 through a thin haze, and the whole visible world 
 lay in splendid silence and perfect peace. A little 
 later she went to wake up Ida, who was not 
 naturally an early riser and to help her to finish 
 packing. Ida looked out at the window. 
 
 " What a beautiful morning ! I'm sorry it's 
 the last time I shall look out through these myrtles 
 and roses at the sea." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT, 73 
 
 " Hadn't I better have some sandwiches made 
 for us to take ? '' was the slightly unromantic reply. 
 
 '^Noj don't. Sandwiches in a train, after they 
 have been two or three hours in a paper parcel, 
 are generally beastly. I know a better dodge 
 than that. You'll see." 
 
 At breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Potter gave a 
 great many directions, no doubt of great use to 
 travellers, chiefly connected with matters of health, 
 to which Nellie promised to give attention, and 
 thought very little about. After breakfast came 
 that unnaturally long and uncomfortable interval 
 in which everything is quite ready long ago, the 
 trunks down in the hall at the front door, and 
 there is absolutely nothing to do, and every one 
 fidgets excitably, makes little futile beginnings 
 of conversation which break down, glances every 
 five minutes at the clock, and looks down the 
 avenue an hour before the time to see if the fly 
 is coming. Mr. Potter was perhaps the worst 
 fidget of them all, and made the most deadly 
 suggestions, such as that the fly-proprietor (one 
 Meader, a monopolist in the fly-trade, and a Bible 
 Christian) had perhaps mistaken the hour, or that 
 
74 AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 the July time-table liad not been consulted (of 
 trains whicli had suffered not five minutes' innova- 
 tion for the last eight years), and drove the family 
 wild by going out of doors to a kind of look-out 
 station near the front gate, and coming back at 
 a sort of unsteady double, and sitting down with 
 his hat on. 
 
 When the fly actually did come he was not 
 aware of it, and was busy getting some sherry 
 decanted to give the girls a glass each before 
 starting, to which Mrs. Potter suggested the 
 addition of plain biscuits. Ida, not wishing her- 
 self and Nellie to have headache and heart- 
 burn for the rest of the sweltering July day, 
 refused firmly, but gently, and kept Nellie out 
 of the room, unaware of the offer, well knowing 
 her cousin to be one of those people who believed 
 a glass of wine " did them good," regardless of 
 what wine or what occasion, because papa or 
 mamma said it did. 
 
 At last they were fairly started, Mr. Potter 
 accompanying them to the station, where he saw 
 their luggage labelled with great and solemn care 
 for the London terminus, and told the girls to 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 75 
 
 mind and cliange at Blincot^ "or let me see, isn't 
 it Switchley ? " whereat tlie gloomy station porter, 
 who had known Nellie from infancy, and was 
 stowing her bundle in the net in such a manner 
 that it fell on her as soon as the train moved, 
 murmured, '' that there wasn't no change, that you 
 got took on by the express at Deanstoke.' 
 
 Then the parson hoped they would both enjoy 
 themselves very much, and have good weather^ 
 during the coming tour, and added that the glass 
 was high, and that there would be a change of 
 the moon on Friday. Then he bade Ida 
 " remember " him to Charles, and when the 
 gloomy porter tolled a large bell, and the guard 
 held up one arm and blew a whistle, and the 
 engine gave a hoot and the wheels began to 
 turn, Mr. Potter said : 
 
 " Good-bye ! God bless you. Be a good girl 
 and take care of yourself." And waved his hat 
 to the departing train. 
 
 " And now " began Nellie, with an eager 
 
 face. 
 
 " Don't say, ' and now we're really off,' because 
 I don't think I could bear it." 
 
76 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 "Well, I won't. But it was just what I was 
 going to say. There's the church and the hill," 
 Nellie added, looking out of the window at her 
 receding home, " and the coast-guard's look-out 
 on the top of the down : they've got a signal up. 
 Good-bye ! There, it's all out of sight now. Oh, 
 Ida, I do feel excited ! " Ida smiled in her good- 
 humoured lazy way and got into a thoroughly 
 comfortable position, while Nellie sat up eagerly 
 scanning the, as yet, somewhat familiar landscape, 
 and the motion and noise of the train made 
 conversation difficult. 
 
 This train was a " stopping " train as far as 
 Deanstoke, where two or three waggons were 
 attached to the main line express, and then taken 
 quickly on for the remaining two hours or more 
 to London. At Deanstoke, therefore, there was 
 a stoppage of ten minutes, of which Ida took 
 advantage to get a daily paper and a certain 
 square basket, which was handed in by the guard 
 and put on the seat. Nellie was struck already 
 by her cousin's practical, cool way of arranging 
 all matters with regard to comfort and convenience ; 
 but her admiration culminated when the square 
 
AN' UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 77 
 
 basket was opened, and there came out a cold 
 fowl, two plates, and knives and forks, salt and 
 bread and butter, and glasses and a bottle of claret, 
 to say nothing of tissue-paper napkins, and a 
 corkscrew. 
 
 And two very joyous girls were shortly having 
 a very sufficient picnic, with all the convenience 
 which was possible in a train which occasionally 
 threw the wine up their noses as they were in the 
 act of drinking, and kept working the plates in 
 >their laps on to their edges. 
 
 '^ I say,'' said Ida with her mouth full, *^ isn't 
 this better than a paper of sandwiches out of one's 
 pocket, eh ? ^' 
 
 '^ Eather. What a silly you must think me to 
 be so surprised at things you must look at as quite 
 every-day ! But really you must remember that 
 I've lived out of the world all my life." 
 
 "My dear girl, I'm not forgetting it. When 
 you drink don't fill the glass more than half full, 
 and turn your head towards the window, then the 
 jolt doesn't catch you in the front teeth — that's 
 better — go on, sip the goblet, don't be afraid of it. 
 We've got to finish it between us." 
 
78 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 }} 
 
 " What, that great bottle ? 
 
 " Yes, that great bottle. It's only an imperial 
 pint "with a big heel - tap, or whatever you call 
 the thing at the bottom. Hand over the goblet. 
 Isn't it curious how hungry one gets travelling ? '' 
 
 After lunch the things were all put away in the 
 basket^ and the girls shook off all the crumbs, and 
 settled down into their corners again, and, after a 
 little brisk chatter, both went to sleep, " exactly 
 like dogs,^' as Nellie said, until voices were heard 
 calling " All tickets ready, please ! '' and Nellie A 
 found the world had become pervaded with small 
 brick houses and intersecting railway lines. 
 ^' Where are we ? " said she. 
 
 ^'We are getting into London. Pretty, isn't 
 it?^' 
 
 " I never saw anything so hideous in my life. 
 Which side of London is this ? " 
 
 " The outside. It is where all the clerks and 
 shopmen live, I believe, who come into town every 
 morning, on buses and in trains from all directions, 
 as it were from the rim of a big wheel down the 
 spokes to the axle. They all live in little brick 
 houses, with little drying grounds at the back 
 
AK UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 79 
 
 « 
 with a view of a railway ; and the smaller their 
 
 wages are, the smaller the brick house and drying 
 
 ground get, and the nearer they are to an ashy 
 
 embankment/' 
 
 ^' What a dreadful life. Then the rich and 
 splendid part of London is in the inside, of 
 course ? " 
 
 '^Of course." 
 
 ^^I think I should like to come into London 
 quite suddenly, to come out of fields, and find big 
 streets and tall houses, all compact inside a big 
 wall with towers and gates, and the train ought to 
 go in through an archway, with a flag floating over 
 the top, then a few yards' darkness, as you went 
 through the wall — oh, of course there would be 
 a moat full of silvery water, with lilies and fish, 
 outside — then you would be there. All these rails 
 and bridges and smoke and horrid dirty little 
 houses have such a dreadful effect on one's 
 imagination." 
 
 " We had better get our things together, as we 
 shall come to a final stop directly. I am afraid 
 your moat would not be quite as silvery as we 
 could wish. But it is a pleasant picture.' 
 
 J} 
 
80 AN UNFORTUNATE ABItANGEMENT. 
 
 Perhaps one may be permitted, without going 
 as far in futile idealism as Miss Potter, to wish 
 that the builders and contractors of Outer London 
 might display a greater tendency : 
 
 Im Ganzen, Guten, Schonen 
 Eesolut zu leben, 
 
 than they do. 
 
 On arriving at the terminus, the girls found 
 a good-looking young gentleman waiting for them, 
 very carefully dressed, with a flower in his coat, 
 and a silver-headed cane, who was Ida's brother 
 Charles, whom Nellie had not seen since he was 
 almost a baby, though that was not so very long 
 ago. He was a year younger than Ida, but very 
 grave and grown up. He approved of his cousin's 
 face and general appearance, but thought her 
 costume rather lacked style, which, he reflected, 
 was natural enough under the circumstances. 
 They all got into a large, and comfortable, and 
 open carriage, while a footman in a four-wheeler 
 took charge of the trunks, and Nellie shortly 
 had the unparalleled pleasure and excitement of 
 driving through some of the principal streets of 
 London on a brilliant July afternoon, when all 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 81 
 
 the people were out to shop, or sight-see, or show 
 themselves. Moreover, there were more people 
 than usual still in London, owing to the peculiar 
 and historic character of the summer of 1887, 
 and Kings and Princes were to be seen in un- 
 exampled quantities, to say nothing of picturesque 
 dusky potentates and warriors, in addition to the 
 common run of mere " season " people. 
 
 They drove by a slightly circuitous route to 
 Ida^s home, in order that Nellie might see Regent 
 Street and Oxford Street, and portions of the 
 Park, and she felt that a new life had indeed 
 begun. 
 
 It was not only the crowding, swarming men 
 and women, apparently all in their " best " clothes, 
 and the astonishing and delightful wares in the 
 shop windows, which were new, but also the 
 colour, the sounds, and the atmosphere. There 
 was at each end of each perspective a thickening 
 of the air, a brown, and gray, and reddish haze 
 between the narrowing rows of houses, or over 
 some roofs and steeples beyond the trees in the 
 Park, belonging quite to London, and not deserting 
 it even though the sky was blue and cloudless. 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 There were great patches of unusual red, and 
 green, and white, and yellow, and brown, and 
 blue, continually breaking the dusky drab mono- 
 tony of the streets with rattlings, and shout- 
 ings, and vivid moving colour. These are only 
 omnibuses to the habitual beater of pavements, 
 but are a fine relief to eyes which are as yet 
 unaccustomed to the dull, gloomy tones, and paltry 
 form and substance of London street building. 
 
 Of course every passer-by was not well-dressed ; 
 but in Regent Street, Western Oxford Street, and 
 the Park, shabby people did not obtrude, and 
 Nellie did not know what frowsy, filthy things 
 lurked and blinked at the badly-filtered daylight 
 just behind that gorgeous east side of Regent 
 Street, or how they all came out and prowled 
 about London as soon as the lamps were lit, even 
 as maggots in a carcase; nor, not knowing, need 
 she be told. 
 
 London was to her a place where people were 
 rich, and happy, and well-dressed, who perhaps, 
 at times, went to theatres and balls, and such 
 wild delights. 
 
 In due course they went to Kensington and 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 83 
 
 rested, and had dinner. Uncle Charles seemed 
 good-natured and affable, and promised Nellie she 
 should see how pictures were done on the morrow. 
 He was a little like her father, but wore a beard 
 which disguised the resemblance, and, of course, 
 dressed very differently ; but the rather high 
 nose was there, and the voice, and the long, thin 
 hands. Nellie had rather expected a velvet coat 
 and a scarlet necktie, relics of the nearly vanished 
 ideal of an earlier day; but Uncle Charles wore 
 a black swallow-tailed coat, and a white waistcoat, 
 and had a red carnation in his button-hole, and 
 might have been a prosperous merchant or Member 
 of Parliament for aught of external indication. 
 But he looked kind, easy-going, and satisfied with 
 life, if perhaps not given to high ambition or 
 artistic dogmatising. Indeed, I greatly fear that 
 he would mix three or four centuries together 
 in the costumes, armour, and architecture of a 
 picture without the slightest compunction if they 
 *' composed " well, and would then call the totality 
 of all this " composing ^^ historic, and be quite 
 happy, especially when some awful Philister had 
 given a good big cheque for it. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 He belonged to a simple-minded school in art, 
 which is rather analogous with that in literature 
 represented by the class of novel in which the 
 young man is called Cyril and the girl Lilias, 
 the one having sweeping, golden moustaches, and 
 the other, heavy masses of glorious auburn hair, 
 and starry, violet, lustrous eyes, while there is 
 a disappointed lover with sombre eyes, chiselled 
 features, and half Italian parentage on the 
 mother's side, who commits some indiscretion, 
 and dies gloriously in defence of his country, or 
 in attack of somebody else's. It was also akin to 
 the school of song of the kind which is set to 
 pretty music, and sung at ballad concerts, full of 
 twilight, and old castles, and the after- years, where 
 " no more,'' and " sea shore " are likely to en- 
 counter "of yore" as rhymes. 
 
 It was a quite innocent, quite pretty, skilful 
 kind of art, which was popular and was not 
 ashamed ; and demanded no great strain on the 
 imagination or mind, either to produce or to 
 appreciate, and neither conveyed any particular 
 truth, nor taught any particular lesson. 
 
 Charles Potter never " sent in " abstruse archa30- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 85 
 
 logical subjects^ witli nasty Latin or Greek names 
 which husbands and fathers looked blankly at in 
 the catalogues when asked by their womankind to 
 explain; or mystic mythologies and allegories in 
 illustration of poems and legends which nobody 
 knew ; or little studies of nothing particular, with 
 fuzzy gray '^ atmosphere " rubbed all over the 
 edges of everything. Consequently his works 
 were quite popular, and sold weJJ> and were sure to 
 be described by the papers as striking some kind of 
 '^ key-note" or other. 
 
 In the evening, after dinner, the world began, 
 to unfold new delights to Nellie's wondering gaze, 
 for they went to a theatre. 
 
 Now you who still feel a flash of the old joy 
 and excitement return when the orchestra first 
 strikes up, and the green curtain rolls up to dis- 
 play a fanciful drop-scene, despite your familiarity 
 now with '^ slips,'' and *' floats," and " Pros," and 
 "in front," and " behind," and " runs," and ''sets," 
 perhaps you remember how you felt when you 
 first went to a theatre. It is indescribable, is 
 it not ? It matters not, though the play were 
 ordinary and the players had not yet attained 
 
86 AN nNFORTUNATE ABHANGEMENT. 
 
 celebrity. You were in Paradise. Well, at the 
 theatre Nellie went to the play was Faust, and 
 the players Henry Irving, Ellen Terry, and Mrs. 
 Stirling. 
 
 We may entertain private opinions about the 
 merits of this adaptation from the German as a 
 literary production, but they have nothing to do 
 with Nellie Potter's sensations, derived from the 
 acting and the scgjpery, and have no place here. 
 Nellie had never read the version by Johann 
 Wolfgang, and, in the present stage of her der, 
 die, das, was not likely to ; wherefore her romantic 
 imagination and sensitive sympathies met with no 
 critical stumbling-blocks, and she was in a series 
 of dreams of beauty and terror and sorrow, and 
 awed admiration and tender pity, such as no 
 three volume romance had succeeded in producing. 
 When they came to the scene which portrayed 
 the house-tops of Niirnberg, as seen from the city 
 wall, Ida said : 
 
 " We shall see the original of that when we go 
 on our travels." 
 
 Charlie, who, though well-meaning and amiable, 
 ■was rather a prosaic youth, made only two obser- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 87 
 
 vations which caught Nellie's enraptured ears. 
 The first, during the Walpurgis Nacht, was : 
 
 " Good old fireworks ! '' 
 
 The second, at the end, was : 
 
 " I say, girls, aren't you thirsty ? '^ 
 
 Mr. Potter was not of the party, and Charlie 
 was the chaperon and protector. 
 
 As they were making the slow descent towards 
 the turbulent outer barbarism of Wellington Street, 
 Charlie said : 
 
 " Will there' be anything to eat when we get 
 home, Ida ? " 
 
 '^ I suppose there will be something cold. But 
 we'll have to find it, I expect, and wait on our- 
 selves ; and as father's out there will be no wine. 
 He has the keys generally in his pocket." Thus 
 she said, well knowing what would follow. 
 
 " If there is one thing more ghastly than 
 another after a theatre, it is to hack about an 
 old fowl with the wrong knives and plates on the 
 table, and no servants and table-beer. I should 
 have to go down and draw it among the beetles 
 by the light of a wax match. No, thank you. You 
 corae with me, and I'll stand a nice little spread 
 
88 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 at a good, quiet place." And he hitched on 
 his cloak in a knowing way, and prepared to be 
 stern with the "glimmers '' and " bucks," who are 
 the camp-followers and hangers-on of the cab- 
 driving army. 
 
 Nellie was still thinking of that prison-cell and 
 that red figure in the dusk outside it, and trusted 
 herself blindly to Ida's guidance. 
 
 Ida was, in her secret heart, as glad to go to 
 supper at a restaurant as Charlie, and consented 
 without an indecent show of eagerness, knowing 
 that it was mainly owing to the presence of 
 " another girl " that Charlie was so hospitable, and 
 that such chances did not so very often occur. 
 
 When they reached the street, which was in the 
 condition of hideous turmoil usual at such moments, 
 Nellie turned to Ida, and said : 
 
 "What on earth is the matter? Is it a fire 
 or a revolution, or what ? I feel quite ' deaved,' 
 as mamma says.'' 
 
 " Oh, it's only competition," said Ida. " They 
 want everybody to have cabs and carriages fetched, 
 and to ride in 'buses to places no one wants to 
 go to, I should think. Charlie, you are a business 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 89 
 
 man, wliat do people want to go to the Bank for in 
 the middle of the night ? '' 
 
 ^^ Oh, they can change there for London Bridge, 
 or go on to Broad Street." Charlie was prosaic, it 
 cannot be denied. 
 
 Prosaic or not, Charlie Potter knew a pretty 
 girl when he saw her, and when they got into the 
 inevitable hansom (Nellie's first venture in such a 
 machine), he directed Ida to get in first, being, as 
 he asserted, the heaviest, then got in himself and 
 vainly endeavoured to manipulate Nellie on to his 
 knee, assuring her that you had to do that when 
 there were three in a hansom. But Nellie sat on 
 Ida's knee, and was much alarmed and excited by 
 the perilous and chaotic state of the traffic, as was 
 very natural, and had not the wildest idea where 
 she was bound, but felt that the world was indeed 
 opening. 
 
 When they reached the end of the journey 
 Nellie noticed that they went in at a large door- 
 way, across marble and mosaic floors, up shallow 
 and thickly-carpeted stairs, and into a room full of 
 small, square tables, covered with glistening clean 
 linen, shining glasses and silver, and napkins 
 
f 
 
 90 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 worked into fantastic designs. A few people of 
 both sexes were already at such tables, and she 
 observed that the men were in evening dress, and 
 looked rich, and sunburnt, with close-cut hair, thin 
 at the top, and dark moustaches, while the ladies 
 were in elaborate toilettes, and looked cheerful, 
 and had rather powdery faces, and seemed at least 
 thirty. 
 
 I may remark that there was not any person or 
 thing in this particular place to cause any lady 
 shame or offence. It was onlv the difference of 
 complexion and habits which seemed strange to 
 Nellie. You or I would have noticed nothing 
 special. The electric light prevailed everywhere, 
 and was not among the least of the things which 
 charmed and amazed the country girl. These 
 three seated themselves at one of the square table?, 
 and at Charlie^s suggestion took off their wraps, 
 while he gave orders in an undertone to an 
 attentive young waiter with a pale, grave face 
 and a foreign accent. Nellie sat, and waited, and 
 wondered. Soon a young assistant waiter brought 
 them plates of clear soup with a curious and excel- 
 lent flavour, and Nellie, who thought she knew 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 91 
 
 sometliing of cookery, wondered how it was made. 
 In the meantime the senior waiter solemnly brought 
 an ice-pail, containing a large bottle with a gilt 
 head and neck, and proceeded to open the same 
 with a bang, and to distribute wine in shallow, wide 
 glasses, wine which looked golden in the electric 
 light, and sparkled and foamed with a delicate 
 little crackling noise of bursting bubbles. Now 
 Nellie was a girl who had never drunk cham- 
 pagne in her life, believe it who will, and this was 
 Clicquot ! 
 
 After the soup came small cutlets with strange 
 and pleasant accompaniments, composed of sliced 
 macaroni, and truffles, and tongue, and mushrooms, 
 and artful gravy. After these, and the correspond- 
 ing quantity of the good widow's wine, they all 
 chattered freely and gaily, and Nellie felt that the 
 great world she had just entered, and often been 
 solemnly warned against, was not so bad after all. 
 They talked about the play, and about the coming 
 tour, and about each other, and were very happy. 
 They then had ices, which shows they must have 
 been young and healthy, and lingered over. the last 
 glass of champagne. Such a jolly evening ! Nellie 
 
92 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 could remember none in her short life equal to it. 
 Finally, Charlie ordered a glass of Benedictine for 
 himself and one for Ida. He asked Nellie, of 
 course, and she said : 
 
 "I don^t know what it is, but I am in your 
 hands. Is it nice?" 
 
 " I shouldn't have it, if I were you,'' said Ida. 
 " It's quite an acquired taste." And she winked 
 fiercely at Charlie behind Nellie's back, so Nellie 
 declined. At last all was paid for, and they went. 
 On the way downstairs a man bowed to Ida, a tall, 
 shabby man. 
 
 " Who is that ? " said Charlie. " I know his 
 face." 
 
 "That is Mr. McEwan." 
 
 " Oh, yes. Writes, or something ? " 
 
 " Yes ; poetry, I believe. He comes to our 
 evenings sometimes. I like him." 
 
 Outside the gilded and glittering portals they 
 got into another hansom, and this time Charlie 
 really did get his country cousin partially on his 
 knee. And they went home. 
 
 '^ I've been so happy," said Nellie. 
 
 •' My ! Isn't she green ? " thought Charlie. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 After my interview witli McEwan, I had a few 
 necessary things packed, dined at an eating-house 
 in Piccadilly Circus, and went to Victoria for the 
 eight o'clock train for the Continent. As the 
 season in London was approaching what is known 
 as its height, more especially as the customary 
 crowded foolishness of that time of year was 
 particularly accentuated by the ceremonies con- 
 nected with the fact that the sovereign had been 
 a sovereign for fifty years, which made London 
 a kind of mixture of circus, cattle show, and fair, 
 with all their concomitants, and kept the travel- 
 ling portion of the public in England to gloat 
 at Life-guards, transparencies, kings, and cream- 
 coloured ponies, it was an excellent opportunity 
 
94 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 for escaping to a capital where comfort and sanity 
 were not for the time subordinated to a childish 
 delight in shows, sentimentally surnamed loyalty 
 by one section of public opinion, and equally 
 foolishly made an opportunity to abuse the aris- 
 tocracy and enviously denounce the possessors of 
 wealth by another. 
 
 "What I have said already concerning McEwan 
 will give to the perceptive mind a lucid hint as 
 to the mental peculiarities of that curious creature. 
 That which is not of an alcoholic and purely 
 temporary character in him is, I suppose, a form 
 of the enthusiasm of humanity. If he had not 
 a good education and much natural intellectual 
 ability he would long ago have led dismal pro- 
 cessions of seedy-looking lads through Oxford 
 Street with a red flag and a brass band on damp 
 Sunday afternoons, and bored Bow Street sti- 
 pendiaries with oratory ; or would have taken to 
 saving souls, in a red jersey with gilt letters on 
 it, also in Oxford Street, with a red flag and 
 brass band. But his sense of humour saves him 
 from such depths. Nevertheless, he is pervaded 
 by an uncomfortable passion to sacrifice himself 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 9^ 
 
 for something or somebody, and is disappointed 
 that nobody seems to demand any such step on 
 his part. He lets it out a good deal in poetry 
 and talk no doubt. He also abuses me, which we 
 both find a pleasing stimulant. We were pretty 
 intimate some years ago at college, where I had 
 the privilege of being largely instrumental in 
 driving out of him the intense piety which he 
 brought from Scotland in those early days. But 
 though his mental qualities, under the influence 
 of contact with knowledge and rational conversa- 
 tion, were unable to retain the letter, his constitu- 
 tion by heredity, I suppose, refused to disgorge 
 the spirit, and he is even now a kind of creedless 
 priest and stakeless martyr lamenting that- no 
 one will fire his faggots. He has a kind of 
 perpetual grievance against the world in general, 
 as far as I understand, though he seems to make 
 himself pretty comfortable after his fashion ; but 
 the burden of his philosophy, as expressed in his 
 ^written works, seems to be compounded of Eccle- 
 siastes and Lamentations, flavoured, perhaps, with 
 Solomon's Song. 
 
 Well, as I remarked, I drove to Victoria Station 
 
96 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 with the purpose of going to Paris. Having got 
 a ticket and weighed in my portmanteau, I was 
 walking slowly along the platform smoking a 
 cigarette and looking for a carriage of roomy 
 and conafortabl^ aspect, when I encountered a 
 lady in stylish attire, with an aggressively costly 
 crocodile-skin hand-bag, full, no doubt, of per- 
 fectly useless bottles of cut - gla"ss with gold 
 stoppers and monograms, and containing space, 
 perhaps, for a pair of gloves, a handkerchief, and 
 a powder-puff as well. She greeted me with an 
 amicable nod, and at once asked me to find 
 her a seat, and handed me the crocodile-skin 
 abomination. 
 
 •" I shall want sixpence for this, Mrs. Carter," 
 I said, as I put the bag and my own overcoat into 
 an unoccupied first - class compartment. Mrs. 
 Carter was a woman I had met several times 
 before, and always found amusing. Like many 
 ladies I know nowadays, she dated everything 
 from '^ when I got ray decree," *^ while I was 
 waiting for my decree to be made absolute," and 
 so on, that event being one of her topics with 
 intimates — intimates were any men who could 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 97 
 
 amuse her, and did not mind spending a pound 
 or two occasionally on refreshments. I do not 
 mean to breathe an implication of scandal — she 
 had them all properly introduced to her, of course. 
 For instance, I was introduced to her by a young 
 man called Lionel Hirschfeld, who was a clerk 
 at one of those institutions known familiarly 
 as ^' bucket-sh(tps," otherwise offices of " outside 
 brokers," places largely patronised by Mrs. Carter, 
 who had a very fine notion of gambling, and 
 prattled familiarly of Amys, Doras, Options, and 
 Settlement. It was she who made the celebrated 
 witticism about old Hart, young Hirschfeld's 
 '*" governor," as to her doubt of the rocks affording 
 sufficient cover to old Hart when the Great 
 Settlement Day came. She was always either 
 " stone broke '' or in a state of temporary and 
 lavish affluence. The latter appeared to be the 
 case at present. I presumed she had won some 
 money at Mr. Hart's establishment, and was now 
 going to Monte Carlo to lose it by means of her 
 celebrated system which usually ensured that result. 
 We entered the train, and when the guard 
 arrived, displaying the usual servility noticeable 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 
 
 on sucli occasions, and hinting at tlie acceptability 
 to us of privacy, he received from me a coin, 
 and locked the door. I thought Mrs. Carter would 
 be an amusing companion, and I was given to 
 understand by her that she thought the same 
 of me. Ada Carter was, I should say, about eight 
 or nine-and-twenty, rather tall, well-shaped, and 
 probably muscular, but not presenting at all a 
 stout, or even robust appearance. She was not 
 the least what vulgar elderly men call "a fine 
 woman/' Her waist was slender, and hands and 
 feet beautifully formed, and small in proportion 
 to her height. I remarked the prominence of 
 rings under her brown peau de suede gloves, and 
 surmised that they had been recently taken out 
 of pawn, which she afterwards candidly admitted 
 to be the case. Her face was pale, with dark hair, 
 and regular features of the kind generally called 
 pretty, with much laughter in the eyes. She 
 had great play of expression, and could say the 
 most risky things with the most demure and 
 virginal of faces, as if she really did not know 
 there was such a thing as a latent allusion in 
 her phrase. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 99 
 
 " I suppose the guard thinks we are on a bridal 
 tour/' she observed. 
 
 " You look the part. The crocodile bag con- 
 firms it/^ 
 
 '^You don't catch me being a bride again, now 
 Vyo once got fairly free. One trial of wedded 
 domesticity will last me all my life. Now Fve got 
 my decree and costs and alimony Fm going to be 
 my own mistress and — er — nobody else's for the 
 future. But the alimony is nothing very grand, to 
 say nothing of the irregularity with which it turns 
 up, so I have to supplement it the best way I 
 can.'' 
 
 '' Meaning that you are going to a microscopic 
 principality in the neighbourhood of Nice ? " 
 
 '^Well, what do you think? Where are you 
 going ? " 
 
 " Paris.'' 
 
 *' All right. I should like, to knock about there 
 first. Have you got any special mission ? " 
 
 " No. I'm going to knock about, as you sweetly 
 put it, also." Here the train moved off. 
 
 " Had your dinner ? " asked Mrs. Carter. 
 
 '' Yes.'' 
 
 H 2 
 
100 AN UNFORTUNATE AERANGEMENT. 
 
 f( 
 
 Ah, well, if you will get down that bag you 
 mock at, Pll give you some dessert/' 
 
 " Very well. I hope you don't carry oranges 
 in it, or gingerbread-nuts/' 
 
 "Not much. Not with a channel to cross/' 
 I gave her the bag, which she opened, and first 
 took out one of the fitted cut-glass toilet bottles 
 which I knew would be inside, and a small glass. 
 " There, you unscrew that, my friend." 
 I did. It was full of Benedictine, and I poured 
 some into the glass, which she emptied with a 
 rapid gulp, and gave to me, saying : 
 
 *' Help yourself if you don't mind the same 
 glass. I've nothing catching/' 
 
 While I obeyed, she further brought out a two- 
 ounce packet of '^ May Blossom," and made two or 
 three largish cigarettes. When I had given her 
 back the flask again and glass, with thanks, she 
 said : 
 
 ''Have another? No? Perhaps better not. 
 We'll have some on the other side, after supper. 
 There, put the bag up again. Smoke away if you 
 want to, and give me a light." And she put her 
 feet up on the seat opposite her, and made herself 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 101 
 
 thoroughly comfortable, disposing of four cigarettes 
 between Victoria and Chatham. 
 
 ^^ Now you are what I call a reasonable travel- 
 ling companion," I said, with perfect sincerity. 
 
 "I should think so. Funny our meeting here. 
 Fm glad. It's stupid travelling alone. Besides, 
 there might have been a British mother and 
 daughters here instead of you, and I should have 
 had to behave, and hold my tongue, under pain of 
 being glared at." 
 
 ^^ You might have gone in the smoking-carriage." 
 
 '^No. Not proper. Men always think that's a 
 try on. I mean, they consider it an intrusion. Do 
 we stop anywhere ? '' 
 
 " No. Not before Dover." 
 
 "That's all right. Then I need not bother 
 about appearances." 
 
 By which the artless creature meant that she 
 need not leave off smoking, and put her feet in a 
 less conspicuous situation. When we had passed 
 Chatham, she said : 
 
 *' I say, when we go on board the boat, I wish 
 you would ignore me for a little while, and take a 
 good look round, and see if there is anybody who 
 
102 AN UNFOHTUNATE AEItANGEMENT. 
 
 knows you. I will do the same. And do be sure 
 to look if there is any seedy-looking person, 
 probably in the second class, who looks as if he 
 were watching me. You can always tell, because 
 most people rush on board as quick as they can 
 squash over the gangway, and I shan't hurry at all, 
 so he will have to look out for me to the last 
 moment, and that will about place him I think, if 
 you have your eyes about you.'' 
 
 "Very well. This gets quite Gaboriau. But 
 who would take the trouble and expense to do 
 this ? " 
 
 *' A man with whom I was on terms of authorised 
 intimacy, called Carter. He hopes to get an excuse 
 to cut off that wretched old alimony, I know, and 
 will try and catch me in some way or other where 
 my conduct will bear an appearance of lightness ; 
 I don't know the law on the subject exactly, but I 
 rather fancy if he could prove that my pathway 
 was at all primrosy, don't you know " 
 
 " I am not so well up in that branch of the 
 law as you, in all probability ; but I will act 
 as you suggest." 
 
 " Not ever been a co - respondent with a 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 103 
 
 formal denial ? Dear me ! I believe it's getting 
 ratlier the swagger thing. There are so few op- 
 portunities for distinction in these commonplace 
 times." 
 
 "1 don't yearn for distinction at all. By 
 the way, how did you ever come to unite your 
 career with the apparently objectionable person 
 called Carter — if it is not too curious a ques- 
 tion, that is ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. I don't mind telling you all about 
 it. Mind, I don't tell everybody, Mr. Stanton, 
 though I do chatter pretty freely about most of 
 my affairs to most people, I know ; so I hope 
 you will not make up funny stories out of it 
 for your friends at clubs." 
 
 " I don't have friends, especially at clubs ; 
 and I never tell anybody anything of any con- 
 sequence without some strong reason. Fire away 
 with confidence. By the way, wouldn't it be 
 both legal and useful if you ceased to be Mrs. 
 Carter, and became Mrs. Somebody else ? I 
 always understood that was part of the plot to 
 drop the ex-partner's name ? " 
 
 " There's a good deal of sense in that. I'll 
 
104 AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 try. We'll think of a nice name. The name I 
 bore in early days is not a particularly pretty 
 one, and I have stuck to Carter more from habit 
 and not caring, perhaps, than any real reason. 
 My trunk has a big C on it. I might work 
 that into anything, though — Campbell, or Castle- 
 reagh, or Cecil. Well, it was this way." 
 
 And the fair speaker smoked a few seconds 
 silently, nestled her shoulders well into the padded 
 corner, and shifted her feet to a better angle, 
 apparently thinking how much candour was ad- 
 visable in the meantime. 
 
 " My people kept an hotel in — well, a big town, 
 not London. My father was a wine merchant as 
 well, and fond of sport — I mean that bookmakers 
 drank champagne at the hotel, and he betted 
 with them. I am the only daughter, but there 
 were brothers, so that I had no special prospects. 
 My brothers drank champagne, backed gee-gees, 
 dressed, and spent much money in various ways — 
 especially on the sex which I grace, I gathered. I 
 was very young, of course — we will be vague about 
 dates, if you please — but I was a tolerable sharp 
 infant ; and one hears and sees a lot if one has ears 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 105 
 
 and eyes. I need hardly say that these two beau- 
 ties — I refer to my brothers — did not earn a six- 
 pence between them while I knew anything of 
 them, but spent my father's money. They did not 
 even win their bets as a rule. I have not seen 
 them for years now, and I don't want to. The only 
 labour they will ever undertake is of the kind 
 called 'hard,' usually performed in fixed periods, 
 and I dare say they are doing it. Well, when I was 
 a biggish girl I was sent to a boarding - school, 
 which was considered a good place of its kind, and 
 there I picked up some accomplishments, and any 
 amount of deportment. I was always fond of 
 reading — not instructive, but miscellaneous — and 
 liked music and dancing, and had a natural apti- 
 tude for dressing well " 
 
 " You have it still.'' 
 
 " Thanks ! Well, I was pretty idle and 
 pretty happy at school, and not at all anxious 
 to go back to the hotel when holidays came round, 
 to be sneered at by my brothers, who called me 
 ' my lady,' or taken out for drives in a trap by my 
 poor father, who was boisterous, dropped his h's, 
 and always met sporting friends, who tried to be 
 
106 AN VNFOUTUNATE AURANGEMENT. 
 
 agreeable in the intervals of their serious occupa- 
 tion of winning money and drinking champagne. 
 My father believed in them, and thought them fine 
 fellows, and of course they rushed him all they 
 knew. Moreover, he was unfortunately indiscreet 
 in his own drink allowance. By this time my 
 mother was dead. I remember how the book- 
 makers ate pork and drank sherry at the funeral. 
 Sherry is more funereal than champagne. All this, 
 of course, led to an inevitable climax — bills of 
 sale, mortgage, foreclosing, execution, and a place 
 in ' provincial adjudications,' ' first meetings of 
 creditors,' and so forth, at which period the jovial 
 boon companions, many of whom were pretty rich, 
 were of course not forthcoming, or were hard up 
 themselves. Anyway, a more disastrous and rotten 
 set of friends no man ever had. So the school- 
 mistress where I had been got me, by what was 
 considered a stroke of luck, a place as nursery 
 governess in an archdeacon's family, where I re- 
 mained some months. There I took my ' young 
 charges' for walks, went to church perpetually, 
 and imparted to them various special branches of 
 my own general ignorance." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 107 
 
 (C 
 
 And there acquired, I suppose, that modesty 
 of demeanour and chastity of appearance which 
 are your distinguishing charm. '^ 
 
 '^ You may think so. I say they are natural. 
 Well, that lasted all right enough for some time, 
 until — well, there was a son home from the 
 university, an awful fool you know, but the apple 
 of their eyes of course — and — well you can imagine. 
 There was a row. I left, with imploring ill-spelt 
 notes shoved under my door while I was packing to 
 give an address. I did no such thing, but went off 
 to London with my savings and a quarter's salary, 
 and answered advertisements, a weary business, I 
 can tell you. I had one stock testimonial which I 
 always used, but it was a good one, being from an 
 old clergyman who lived near my old school, who 
 used to spoon me in twilight bye-paths, and wrote 
 a certificate of my possessing every known virtue. 
 At last I got taken on by a theatrical agent, as 
 musical secretary. When people came to try their 
 voices, I played for them. He was an awful old swine, 
 "but he got me an engagement to go on tour with a 
 comic opera company. You may think that was 
 romantic and amusing. So did I at first, but it 
 
108 AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 
 
 got very deadly after a time. Take a provincial 
 town, a theatrical lodging recommended by a card 
 in the stage-door keeper's den, a lot of silly, noisy 
 girls as ignorant as dirt, and all beastly jealous of 
 eacli other, a Jewy man with a black moustache 
 who damned at you all the morning on a dirty, 
 draughty, stinking stage, till you felt worse than a 
 cavalry recruit at the riding school, a low comedian 
 who got drunk daily towards the last scene, and a 
 fat prima donna with a mouth all over her face and 
 a figure like a sack of flour in an ironclad corset, 
 a big third-class carriage every Sunday w4th 
 whisky being handed round by the low comedian, 
 and you've got it all." 
 
 " But surely there were a lot of admirers. You 
 must have left them out?" 
 
 " Very few of the slightest use or interest. 
 You must remember Fm not speaking of London. 
 There wasn't much chance of sinful luxury for us I 
 can assure you. You see the young men in those 
 places are not numerous or wealthy. There are the 
 sons of the ' local magnates,' the clerks in solicitors' 
 offices, and the young men who can ' do you this at 
 two-eleven-and-a-half ; ' moreover, they are all in a 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 109 
 
 deadly fank to be seen with a girl from the theatre, 
 because everybody will know it to-morrow and 
 every one knows who every one else is. In addition 
 to that, the pubs were all closed by the time we 
 Lad got our make-up off and our clothes on. There 
 was no chance." 
 
 "I see; well?'' 
 
 " Well, at last promotion came, in the form of a 
 London engagement, which was the chorus with 
 two lines, which ran for months. That was a great 
 improvement, naturally. No more of those awful 
 baskets and train journeys and frowsy lodgings, 
 where six girls throw their hats and boots and 
 tights and curling tongs all about the place, and 
 take their supper of Irish stew and draught porter 
 in one small sitting-room. But I didn't in the 
 least like the profession as they call it. Although 
 not exactly a Girton Wrangler, I have picked up a 
 pretty decent all-round education, and I couldn't 
 help seeing what a pack of idiots my companions 
 were, and what a contemptible position they hold 
 in the social economy. Still it was bread and 
 butter, to say nothing of occasional stewed kidneys 
 and mushrooms and lager beer, and, in later days, 
 
110 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 champagne. I am a very good judge of champagne 
 and burgundy. Here Mr. Carter comes in. He 
 made my acquaintance in the boarding-house where 
 I lodgedj where he was staying for a little while, 
 during the settlement of affairs owing to some- 
 body's death, by which he came into what was a 
 fortune in my eyes then. I suppose I married 
 him because I could see no better way out of my 
 slavery, and he was very anxious for it. I never 
 had any very great affection for him. He took a 
 house at Norwood and we lived there pretty peace- 
 ably for a while, I gradually finding out that he 
 was an exasperating duffer, nervous, unhealthy, ill- 
 tempered, and very Jealous. Then I found he was 
 after some other sweet creature, and there was a 
 row. He accused me of a lot of dreadful things, 
 and I smacked his head and nearly knocked him 
 silly. Then it was a race who should serve a 
 citation first. I won and got decree, costs, and 
 alimony. That is the story, as far as it goes." 
 
 " Very pretty story. Thanks." The train began 
 to whistle and slacken, and Mrs. Carter threw away 
 her cigarette and assumed a decorous attitude. 
 ''There, don't I look good? Get the bag down 
 
i 
 
 AK UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. Ill 
 
 again like a good fellow." Soon we ran on to the 
 pier, and I looked out for persons of the kind 
 alluded to, till after some time we met on the deck 
 and agreed that there was no one watching and no 
 acquaintances of either of us on board. It was a 
 fine and smooth moonlit sea_, and we decided to 
 stay on deck. Though a summer night it was cool, 
 and Mrs. Carter put on an ulster with a dark fur 
 lining to the collar, which, when turned up, made a 
 very good setting for her face. She had on a small 
 hat with two high white wings in front of it with 
 converging tips, which caught the moonlight. Her 
 eyes assumed that sad, far-seeking expression com- 
 mon to pretty women's eyes on fine moonlight 
 nights, and her mouth looked wistful and solemn. 
 Her hands were in the ulster pockets. After one 
 of those pauses which are usual preludes to senti- 
 mental conversation, she said : 
 
 " I say, I'm awfully hungry, aren^t you ? " 
 
 " Getting that way. There will be time at the 
 buffet." 
 
 '^ What time do we get to Paris ? " 
 
 " Oh, somewhere about six. Where shall we go 
 in Paris ? " 
 
112 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 She looked at me with a knowing flash crossing 
 the wistful expression for a moment, and replied : 
 
 " You've got cheek. Where are you going ? ^' 
 I mentioned my usual hotel. She said : '' Well, 
 I'm not going there. It would be highly in- 
 decorous." This with the chaste, sad expression, 
 followed by : " Why, my dear boy, just think of the 
 risk ! You do not know who will be there/' 
 With a flash of laughter in the eyes : " I don't 
 know where to go. Look here, you can settle it. 
 You know more about Paris than I do, most likely, 
 and ril go wherever you tell me. Mind, although 
 I've got some money, I don't want to be rooked, so 
 tell me somewhere quiet and comfortable, and not 
 expensive ; and oh ! let it be proper ! '' 
 
 " Very well. You go to the * Hotel de Pologne ' 
 in the Cite d' An tin. Can you speak French ? " 
 
 *^ Well, yes ; in a way that is. I can read easily, 
 and I do." Satanic mirth flitting in brown irides 
 here. " I can speak and understand the ordinary 
 necessary things. Why ? " 
 
 '' Because they don't speak English there." 
 
 ^' Oh, I'll manage. And will you come and see 
 me?" 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 113 
 
 " Eather/' 
 
 " And take me out to see things, provided they 
 are not unseemly ? '^ 
 
 "Certainly. You shall go to the National 
 Library, the Arghives, the Catacombs_, and a 
 classic at the Fran9ais." 
 
 "That's just the sort of thing I mean/' 
 
 We remained on deck all the way, walking up 
 and down in the moonlight and occasionally 
 standing still to admire the reflection on the 
 surface of the sea. McEwan would have made 
 something striking out of it^ I have no doubt. 
 We two poor children of to-day "of materialism 
 and mud,'' accordiog to McEwan, chattered about 
 restaurants, sounded each other's knowledge of the 
 latest curious French books, and rejoiced at the 
 smoothness of the passage. It is interesting to 
 know what books a woman reads, if you can find 
 out if she reads any, or get her to speak the truth, 
 it helps you to mentally place her in the exact 
 position she should occupy in the animal kingdom. 
 I found that Mrs. Carter had been trying to get up 
 her French lately, and had, with that laudable aim, 
 read "Bel-ami," and "Chair Molle," and other 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 works, in all whicli the idiom is modern to the 
 last degree, and the diction wilfully original. 
 
 " How did you get hold of these works ? Who 
 recommended them ? " 
 
 ''You want to know too much. The man at the 
 shop. I told him I wanted something tres moderne, 
 ires serieux" 
 
 "Did you say it with that Paul and Virginia 
 face ? '' 
 
 " Very likely. Oh, I'm getting hungry ! I say, 
 look at the shadows of those ropes on the white 
 deck ; it is pretty, this moonlight, isn't it ? " 
 
 ''You'll be getting romantic directly if you 
 are not careful. Let us make a bee-line for the 
 buffet on arrival. There is no better opportunity 
 than a journey for practising the selfishness whicli 
 the struggle for existence demands. Evolution 
 is very conservative after all. Given a sufl&cient 
 comTDctition, tlie latent selfishnesses of the most 
 amiable of people are trotted out directly, and the 
 strongest and wisest wins and takes the roast fowl 
 and Bordeaux ordinaire while the others are 
 hurrying about, bag-laden, asking the way." 
 
 "You are a delightful guide for an unprotected 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT. 115 
 
 female. You throw all tlie morals in . for nothing, 
 in addition to making yourself useful. Very nice, 
 thougli a little prosy. Next time I'm hard up, 
 which won't be long I dare say, I think I shall be a 
 moral companion, and chaperon young girls at a 
 fixed price on foreign tours and moralise at 
 refreshment buffets. Commission demanded on 
 every husband landed. Moral advice to brides 
 extra. There, I am silly, aren^t I ? " 
 
 " Very, hunger going to the brain. Why don't 
 you smoke ? '' 
 
 " Some one will see." 
 
 " They are all below, except a few ulstered 
 figures who are not looking." 
 
 I've left my bag downstairs." 
 I have only cigars left now, or I'd offer you 
 a cigarette." 
 
 " What sort of cigars ? " 
 
 "Intimidad of Antonio Caruncho." 
 
 " Come to the side here and look at the moon- 
 light 'glitterin' on the wyves.' Now light yours. 
 Now pass me one and keep close to "feie, and the 
 smoke will be attributed to you." 
 
 ^'You'll be sick." 
 
 cc 
 
 (C 
 
 I 2 
 
116 AN UNFORTUNATE ARTIANGEMENT. 
 
 ''Not me.'' And that young woman finished 
 that Intimidad, and the glowing stump went 
 '' fizz " in the water, as we drew near the high pier- 
 heads of Calais, and passengers came crowding on 
 deck. 
 
 In a few minutes, we were devouring roast 
 fowl with the avidity of primitive man, and 
 moistening the repast with a bottle of what Calais 
 flatters by the name of wine. "This wine is 
 ordinary,'' said Mrs. Carter, '' extra - ordinary 
 don't you think ? Still it's better than nothing 
 at all. Never mind, have some Benedictine by- 
 and-by in the puff-puff. Have you done?" 
 
 " Very nearly." 
 
 "Well, make haste. Now go and square the 
 guard, and then come back to me. Never mind 
 the waiter, I'll pay for these things.' ' 
 
 There were but few first - class passengers, 
 so I had no great difiiculty in securing a com- 
 partment. I had never had such a favourable op- 
 portunity before this day, of studying this woman, 
 and found her really amusing. Her occasional 
 relapses into vulgarity, and her good-tempered 
 depravity, were a great relief after young ladies 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AUFx^ANGEMENT. 117 
 
 who talk about the Academy^ and the Jubilee, and 
 say " like I," because they have been taught " it's 
 me ^^ is wrong. When I came back she was getting 
 some silver translated by the waiter, and was quite 
 ready. I conducted her to our compartment, while 
 the tourists fussed and struggled and carried 
 refreshments in paper bags, and nasal voices 
 shouted *' Paris en voiture ! " The conductor 
 examined our tickets, and said : '^ Bon soir, dormez 
 bien, Monsieur et Madame ! " and slammed and 
 locked the door, and disappeared into the night. 
 
 " He^s very polite," I observed. 
 
 '' He needn^t grin so fiendishly, even if we have 
 a bridal aspect.'' And Mrs. Carter proceeded to 
 make herself comfortable on the one side of the 
 carriage, by turning up the hinged elbow rests 
 between, and reclining on the seat with her back 
 in the corner, while I did the same in the opposite 
 corner. The crocodile bag was on the floor, and 
 we had our glass or two of Benedictine, as the train 
 softly crawled round Calais town. 
 
 " There, this is cosy, isn't it ? I am happy now." 
 
 " You look like a pleased cat on a rug.'' 
 
 " Don't. I don't like cats." 
 
118 AN UNFORTUNATE AIIBANGEMENT. 
 
 " Why not ? They aro very pretty." 
 " ^M. P'raps. I say, isn't it curious that though 
 I evade if I can the ordinary little rules of worldly 
 propriety, and laugh at the people who keep 'em, I 
 am in a deadly funk of being caught ignoring 
 them." 
 
 *' Rather a nasty conundrum to raise in the 
 middle of the night, isn't it ? I think it is capable 
 of explanation without much subtle analysis. You 
 break through the more trivial fetters because 
 you find life more enjoyable without them, and 
 wish to keep them^ because you don't want to 
 lose the good opinion even of foolish people, 
 which good opinion you, perhaps rashly, take 
 for granted exists. Another and nastier way 
 of putting it, is that small defiances of convention 
 are attractive to some men, while strict adherence 
 is demanded by most women from their instinctive 
 reverence for all established customs, however silly 
 such customs may be, and you like to have the 
 admiration of both." 
 
 " Thanks. I don't think I'll ask another." 
 After a pause, during which the train accelerated 
 its pace towards Boulogne, she observed : 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 119 
 
 '^ I'm sleepy. There, I'll take my hat off, or ife 
 ^ will get squashed in this corner. Will you put it 
 up in the rack like a good fellow ? '' 
 
 I obeyed,, and the lady put up the fur-lined 
 collar of her ulster, and composed herself to sleep, 
 an example which I soon followed, and we reposed 
 silently with partial awakenings at Amiens and 
 Creil. Soon after passing the latter, it being 
 broad daylight and close to Paris, we woke up 
 entirely, and Mrs. Carter patted her hair, and 
 pushed in hair-pins, with the aid of a small mirror 
 out of the crocodile bag. 
 
 " Well, I do look a boiled owl ! " she remarked. 
 '^ I shall go to bed at the hotel, and have a proper 
 toilette afterwards. Will you come round for me 
 about half-past eleven, and then we'll go and have 
 a good breakfast somewhere ? " 
 
 " I will with great pleasure." 
 
 ''We've had a very pleasant journey, haven't 
 we?'' 
 
 *' I have." 
 
 '' So have I. So that's all right. Much obliged 
 for taking care of me. My hat, please. Thanks. 
 Now for the last mouthful of Benedictine. There, 
 
120 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 just two glasses left. Here you are. What is your 
 Christian name ? '' 
 
 " Harold/' 
 
 ** How romantic. Mine is Ada." 
 
 " Thank vou.'' 
 
 " Well, Harold, will you extend your kindness 
 by seeing me through the Custom House, and 
 putting me into a carriage, and telling it where to 
 
 go?" 
 
 " Of course I will, Ada." And I did. 
 
 Shortly I arrived at my hotel, in the Rue de 
 Rivoli, along with a few specimens of the British 
 family, and had a bath and a cup of coffee, and a 
 long rest with some newspapers to doze over. I 
 thought Ada Carter was certainly entertaining and 
 undoubtedly good-looking and well-dressed, in good 
 taste and in the latest fashion. I am not very 
 good at describing dresses, so I will not say it was 
 *' soft, white, fleecy material," as novelists in- 
 variably do when gravelled for technical terms, 
 because it was nothing of the sort. It was amiable 
 of her to pay for our supper at Calais, certainly, 
 though it was probably a sprat to catch a herring. 
 However, she being evidently in funds, it would be 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 121 
 
 far better for her to waste them on me than on that 
 ^diotic roulette, which would be sure to skin her. 
 She was undoubtedly clever, but rather silly. It 
 was silly to trust me, hitherto only an acquaintance 
 to exchange conversational small coin with, with her 
 confidences to the extent she did, knowing, as she 
 ought to know, what a story most men would be 
 glad to make out of our agreeable but harmless 
 adventure. Perhaps there is something about me 
 which inspires trust, in which case I had better 
 cultivate it. It is not stretching a point, in one's 
 private convictions, to suppose that she took a 
 fancy to me. So I had better cultivate that, too. 
 The great secret of enjoying life is never to miss 
 opportunities. And if this be an opportunity it is 
 a pretty safe one, for she herself proclaimed a very 
 sensible intention to shun marriage for the future, 
 and with her reputation she ought to know no man 
 in his senses would think of inviting her to it. 
 Besides, she seemed quite old enough to take care 
 of herself. 
 
 With these wholesome reflections, I got ready 
 to encounter the fair Ada again, and put as much 
 money in my pocket as I thought the occasion 
 
122 AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 demanded. It was rather a doubtful point who 
 was goiug to pay for the coming breakfast. O^ 
 course, I assumed that I was to do it, and with 
 that idea decided to go to a resort more remarkable 
 for economy and comfort than for gilded mag- 
 nificence. 
 
 I found Mrs. Carter waiting for me, refreshed, 
 delighted with her quarters, and beautifully 
 dressed. So we started down the high, narrow, 
 and sunless " Cite d'Antin,'' and soon came into 
 the blazing sunshine of a summer morning on 
 the Place de P Op era. 
 
 "Better than good old Piccadilly Circus in a 
 fog, and voices calling ' ^Igher up ! ' isn't it, 
 Harold ? Where shall we go ? " 
 
 " Oh, we'll go along the Boulevards. I know 
 a place." 
 
 " I am awfully hungry.'' 
 
 "Well, don't spend too long looking at shop 
 windows, then." 
 
 We arrived in process of time at a restaurant 
 ia the Boulevard Moutmartre, aud had a really 
 handsome repast, beginning with oysters, ending 
 with ices, aud irrigated freely with champagne, to 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 123 
 
 all of wlaich Mrs. Carter did justice, particularly to 
 tlie wine. She became more and more loquacious 
 as the feast progressed, and told interesting ex- 
 periences of the variegated life she had been 
 leading, and made curious comments on human 
 affairs. Most of her adventures seemed marked 
 by that happy recklessness which is usually be- 
 friended by good luck. 
 
 "My dear boy/^ she said, towards the con- 
 clusion of the meal, *^the girls that get into real 
 trouble are the good, innocent ones, with no 
 experience outside tea and tennis. They are shy, 
 with strong feelings under the shyness ; when they 
 fix their little affections secretly on some very 
 ordinary chappie, there is some day an explosion, 
 the feelings break through the shyness and pro- 
 priety, a"nd they put both their feet in it Horribly, 
 and there is a row and a scandal. They have got a 
 lot of what they call principles, which are only a 
 set of parrot-phrases which they don't really know 
 the meaning of, and when they go wrong all the 
 principles break down and are very little con- 
 solation. I never was anything but a naughty girl, 
 with wits enough to keep out of any very serious 
 
12^ AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 mess, and the luck is generally witli me, except in 
 money matters. It is not often I'm lucky there; but 
 I don't mind telling you I've j ust landed five hundred 
 pounds by a judicious series of pools and options at 
 old Hart's/' ' 
 
 "How long do you expect it to last?" 
 
 " Oh, two or three weeks, I dare say, if I'm 
 prudent. I shall save a hundred to perform with 
 at Monte Carlo, where, if the gods are good, I 
 ought to make some more. Are you at all hard- 
 up ? Excuse the question, but now is the time to 
 mention it. It is not often I have a fifty-pound 
 note to lend anybody. Generally want some one to 
 lend a fiver to me. Don't think me ungrateful, 
 Harold, because you've stood me a dinner more 
 than once, when, I can tell you, I wanted it badly, 
 and I'd like to be able to help you if I can, because 
 you're — oh — something complimentary." 
 
 " I am very much obliged, but I don't need it 
 just now. Very amiable of you, Ada. I wouldn't 
 make these offers often if I were you, or I may be 
 tempted to accept." 
 
 " Won't be a chance often. Well, I stand this 
 breakfast any way." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT. 125 
 
 " I propose to pay for this," I said, with 
 really •v^ell-assumed courteous decision. 
 
 "I'll be d d if you do," replied Ada in a 
 
 gentle undertone, with a saintly expression. Then 
 passing me a hundred-franc note, rdlled up, across 
 the table, she said : '^ You ask for the bill, and 
 pay it, and give the man a dr — donation I mean. 
 It looks more proper and husbandy, don't you 
 know, for you to pay. At least if it doesn't look 
 quite husbandy it looks ^ awful near it.^ I think 
 we look a little too festive for a British bridal pair. 
 The waiter doesn't know English, I suppose ; but he 
 can tell by instinct, if he's got any, that I have 
 been taking advantage of his ignorance to talk all 
 sorts of improprieties." 
 
 " ' Veiled, to him, in the decent obscurity of a 
 foreign tongue,' as has been elsewhere observed." 
 
 '^ I don't remember half of what I have said. 
 Never mind. Where shall we go ? 
 
 We are in love's land to-day. 
 "Where shall we go ? 
 
 I suppose now these museums and libraries we 
 propose visiting won't be open till the evening ? " 
 
126 AN UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 
 
 '' I am afraid not. Would you like to go to the 
 Jardin des Plantes — Zoo, you know ? " 
 
 " I love apes ; they are so like people — some 
 people. Is it far ? " 
 
 '^ A goodish way.^' 
 
 '^ Oh, all the better. That will give us a good 
 view of the town. G-et one of those open cabs." 
 
 And we got an open cab, and went away over 
 the Seine through crowded streets and hot sun- 
 shine, to interview the apes and bears and ele- 
 phants, in which pursuit Ada took quite a boyish 
 delight. 
 
 And so on. It is all over now — at least I hope 
 so — but it was very amusing, that week in Paris 
 with Ada Carter. She went under my guidance to 
 all kinds of pleasure resorts, was always pleased, 
 always good-tempered, always ready for her food 
 and drink, always dressed in good style, quiet, of 
 course, with nothing of the cocotte about it, and 
 paid all expenses, eventually forcing me to accept 
 a loan of fifty pounds before she started off by the 
 Paris-Lyons-Mediterrauee to tempt fortune. 
 
 Still, I was not altogether sorry to lose her. I 
 was beginning to find her perpetual chatter and 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 127 
 
 chaff, and veiled but obvious attacbment to me a 
 little monotonous, and wanted something less ex- 
 perienced, more virginal, something that had not 
 such a terrible supply of worldly wisdom and 
 experience. And I found it at my hotel, the very 
 day after I had seen Ada Carter off. 
 
CHAPTER YI. 
 
 On the morrow Nellie was sound asleep when the 
 maid came with hot water at nine o'clock, which 
 she attributed to the London atmosphere, as half- 
 past seven was the time at which she habitually 
 rose at home. " Perhaps,, too," she added, '' it is 
 because we were awfully late last night." And she 
 got up in a great hurry and was the first in the 
 breakfast -room, even after taking a brief walk in 
 the garden. 
 
 Ida was down next, and Mr. Potter, Charlie 
 last of all. 
 
 Nellie made an excellent breakfast, and Ida 
 envied her. Ida was rather pale, and had a 
 reddish look about the eyelids, and did not display 
 a prodigious appetite, but drank a good deal of tea. 
 Charlie ate kidneys and steak as if he had been a 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 129 
 
 starved and shipwrecked mariner, then pulled out 
 a cigarette-case and disappeared for the day. 
 Mr. Potter was affable as usual. Later on, the two 
 girls visited his studio, and Nellie was much 
 impressed by a great work approaching completion, 
 representing a young lady in vaguely mediseval 
 costume standing at a large muUioned and 
 elaborately-latticed window, with an open letter 
 in her hand. She was looking out of the window 
 with the kind of expression known as '' wistful,^* 
 and the title of the picture was " Parted " 
 
 " Or, perhaps," said Mr. Potter, " I might call it 
 ' Waiting.' " 
 
 In the course of the day they went out in the 
 carriage, and did the much-looked-for shopping, 
 and Nellie found herself the owner, immediate 
 or prospective, of many delightful things. In the 
 afternoon, she wrote to her mother a long letter, 
 in which she said how kind her relatives were, but 
 somehow omitted to mention the theatre or the 
 supper. 
 
 At dinner in the evening Mr. Potter said : 
 
 " Can you two girls be ready, do you think, to 
 start the day after to-morrow ? " 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 AX UNFORTUNATE AERANGE^fENT. 
 
 "Yes," said Ida. "If the things come home 
 in time. And I think they "will, as I said we 
 wanted them at once, and there is not much to 
 do to them." 
 
 "All right. If not that, the next day. Just 
 let me know overnight." 
 
 Nellie found the time pass with marvellous 
 rapidity, with one amusement and another, in- 
 cluding the Eoyal Academy, which gave her great 
 pleasure. 
 
 The " things " came home in due course, and 
 she had the novel sensation of seeing them all 
 packed by a dexterous maid, and having no 
 trouble whatever herself. And then the great 
 morning arrived, full of sunshine and joy, on 
 which they were to begin their journey. This 
 time it was Nellie who had not a great appetite 
 for breakfast, through excitement. At ten o'clock 
 the carriage took them, Mr. Potter and the two 
 girls, to Victoria. Charlie was there to see them 
 off, but was not going himself. 
 
 Mr. Potter had all the luggage registered to 
 Paris, and they were at length seated in a com- 
 modious saloon car, waitincf to start for Dover. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 131 
 
 "So long!" said Charlie. '^Be good girls!" 
 And they were off. As the train wandered out 
 among gas-works, and oblong ponds^ and bridges, 
 and house-tops, Ida said ; 
 
 " In another two hours you will be no longer 
 in England, so you had better have a good look 
 at it, in case we never come back." 
 
 " You are a cheerful person. What part of 
 England do we go through, Uncle Charles ? " 
 
 " Principally Kent, which is the beer garden 
 of England. We go through Rochester, where 
 there is an old castle and a fine view of the 
 Medway. Dickens was very fond of Rochester," 
 Mr. Potter replied. 
 
 " Oh yes, I remember it was Rochester Mr. 
 Pickwick and party were going to when they 
 met Jingle at the coach ofiice." 
 
 '' So you know your Dickens, young lady, do 
 you ? Well, Tm glad of that." 
 
 •' Yes. We have his books — most of them, I 
 think — at home. They are very much out of 
 repair, I am afraid, being old and read so much, 
 ^ Nicholas Nickleby ' is quite out of its binding." 
 
 *'You have them with all the old illustrations 
 
 K 2 
 
132 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 I suppose ? You're lucky. I have to content 
 myself witli a bright scarlet edition with some one's 
 fancy illustrations. Give me Phiz, they are so 
 life-like." 
 
 "I think they are simply grotesque/' said 
 Ida. " But then I am not a frantic admirer of 
 Dickens, and don't like Hablot K. Browne a bit. 
 I have some perverse kink in my taste^ I dare say. 
 Upon my word, I don't see that ' Pickwick ' is 
 very amusing.'' 
 
 After a short silence, Nellie said : 
 
 " You can have no idea how impossible and 
 dreamy all this seems to me. I mean that I shall 
 be in another country this afternoon. All I know 
 about Calais is about the burgesses with ropes 
 about their necks, and Queen Philippa of Hainault. 
 I don't exactly know what burgesses are, or 
 exactly where Hainault is, but they have a nice 
 old historic sound." 
 
 "By Jove, that wouldn't be a bad subject for 
 a picture," observed Mr. Potter, " Queen Philippa 
 pleading for the burgesses of Calais. Might make 
 Nellie sit — or rather kneel — for Queen Philippa. 
 I'm afraid it has been done." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 133 
 
 '^ Much better take Ida, she looks more queenly 
 than me/' 
 
 " Oh, if it comes to that, I don't know," 
 replied Mr. Potter. " It isn't mere size that makes 
 a queen, but dignity. We English ought to know 
 that of all people." 
 
 Soon the noise of the train speeding on its 
 course to Dover, made them drop conversation, 
 and Mr. Potter read the morning paper, Ida some 
 society weekly, while Nellie gazed at the scenery 
 of the London, Chatham, and Dover route, and 
 shuddered at the pace and swing of the train as it 
 crossed the Rochester and Chatham bridge, and 
 wondered at the conical chimneys of the cement- 
 works. At last the train moderated its speed and 
 came to a stand-still. 
 
 " Dover Town ! Keep your seats for the boat ! " 
 And they slowly rolled on to the Admiralty Pier, 
 and saw the wide waters of the Channel. 
 
 " Seems a nice fresh breeze," remarked Mr. 
 Potter." 
 
 " Don't say that ! " said Ida, " especially in 
 that aggravatingly cheerful tone, when you know 
 we want the deadest of calms." 
 
134 AX UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 Porters took their hand-luggage, and Nellie 
 found herself down steps and on board a steamer 
 T^hich, in her inexperience, she thought very 
 large. She and Ida walked about the deck, and 
 admired the mighty white cliffs and gray castle 
 of Dover, all in a hazy sunlight, which made the 
 sea a pale glittering blue. 
 
 " It really is good-bye to England now," said 
 Nellie, '' and they will all be different over there, 
 and talk French ! I think those great cliffs and 
 castle look so English.^' 
 
 " I wonder how you will like having your trunk 
 routed out for contraband," said Mr. Potter. It 
 was not difficult to see whence Charlie derived the 
 prosaic side of his character. 
 
 " Oh, the Custom House, I had forgotten that. 
 Oh, I don't mind. I think it will be rather fun.^* 
 And Nellie walked away to see the mail-bags shot 
 on board, labelled for Bombay and Suez, and all 
 kinds of outlandish places. She was interested in 
 all these details. Ida said to her father: "Her 
 delight in everything is beautiful. I do enjoy 
 seeinir it all throucrh the medium of her sensations. 
 But she is a dear girl, isn't she ? " 
 
AN" UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 135 
 
 ''Yerj nice girl, certainly. And you liave 
 made her look quite stylish in the few days you 
 have had her in hand. Poor Arthur would hardly 
 know her." 
 
 The steamer began to move, and soon the cliffs 
 
 « 
 
 were hazier than ever. Suspicious-looking white 
 caps were on the waves in the distance, and there 
 was a gentle north-easterly breeze. Ida stated that 
 she was going to lie down at once. Nellie ex- 
 pressed a determination to stay and walk about on 
 deck, sayiug it was all too beautiful to lose sight 
 of. " Besides,'^ she added, *' I want to see the 
 very first glimpse of France. Do they shoufe 
 ^ Land ho ! ' from the masthead ? ^' 
 
 " I dare say. I never was on deck when it 
 happened.^^ And Ida disappeared. Nellie walked 
 about with Uncle Charles, and soon found herself 
 staggering violently in the arms of a total stranger 
 of foreign and bilious aspect, in a pulpy black alpaca 
 cap with a peak. Then she took Uncle Charles's 
 arm, and things were a little steadier, and they 
 made remarks on their fellow-travellers, who were 
 of the usual description, English people, some with 
 alpenstocks (but the English were fewer than 
 
136 AN UNFORTUNATE ARBANGEMENT. 
 
 usual that year), Americans with dark yellow com- 
 plexions, and that awful accent which pervades 
 a chastened and tourist-ridden world, foreigners 
 with curiously-cut overcoats, and the inevitable 
 alpaca travelling cap, and bag slung over the 
 shoulder. The ladies and children were mostly 
 sitting or lying in huddled rug-covered, sadly- 
 expectant heaps along the seats, and officious 
 sailor-boys walked up and down with an exas- 
 perating facility of gait, distributing white — well, 
 we know all these painful details. After a time 
 Nellie found that walking about on a series of 
 inclined planes made her giddy, and that she 
 would take the first glimpse of France sitting. 
 Mr. Potter continued to walk about, and made a 
 cheerful remark occasionally, as he passed. After 
 a short while Nellie ceased to reply to these, and 
 gave up the coast of France and shut her eyes. 
 "Curious," she thought, "how giddy one gets. 
 It seems to get worse every minute. It is very 
 rough certainly." (It was subsequently chronicled 
 in the Meteorological Reports as, " Dover. Wind 
 E.N.E., light. Smooth passage across Channel," 
 with malignant irony.) And Nellie thought it 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 137 
 
 might be better to lie down. On her remaining 
 experience a charitable veil may be cast; but 
 the services of one o£ those officious sailor-boys 
 was part of the programme, and a limp, humiliated_, 
 and pallid young lady with her fringe out of curl 
 (as much as Nellie's hair could uncurl) and a weak 
 smile, was left to contemplate the high wooden 
 piers of Calais in paralytic movelessness as the boat 
 drew alongside. While the ropes were being 
 made fast, and passengers were collecting hand- 
 bags, and putting pages out of ticket-books ready 
 (in their mouths) to give up on landing, Ida 
 appeared, bright yellow with red eyelids, and said : 
 " Well, how did you enjoy yourself ? ^' 
 
 " Oh, wasn^t it awful ? But I'm quite well now. 
 How are you ? '' 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right now. I was in my usual 
 form though, all the way. Where's father ? " 
 
 " Here ! Adsum," said Mr. Potter with aggressive 
 cheerfulness. ^' You two poor things must want 
 some lunch, don't you ? '' The two poor things 
 looked at each other and laughed. 
 
 '^ I am hungry — now,'' said Nellie. 
 
 " Horrid, callous old man ? " said Ida, '^ you 
 
138 AN UKFOUTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 never came near us all the way. What have you 
 been doing ? " 
 
 ''Doing? Oh, having a cigar and a brandy- 
 and-soda, and a chat with the first officer. Capital 
 passage. He says we nearly beat the record time. 
 Yery intelligent fellow that, knew who I was, 
 too. Come along, we shan^t have time for 
 those roast fowls and vin ordinaire at the 
 station.^* 
 
 A gangway, steps, porters running about 
 shouting and chattering (and using no doubt 
 highly irregular verbs), small caps with peaks, 
 rat-like little official faces with small scrubby 
 moustaches, blue trousers with red stripes, and 
 cloaks with little hoods, priests with long black 
 cassocks and large hats, loafers in dull, blue, 
 shapeless clothes and wooden shoes. These chro- 
 nicled Nellie's eager and confused first impressions 
 of France, as I suppose they do nearly everybody 
 else's who has eyes and ears. 
 
 Then a restaurant full of noise and running 
 about and loud talking. 
 
 Nellie found her roast wing of fowl and glass 
 oE wine very acceptable. Ida was not " in form " 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. IS9 
 
 yet for a solid repast, but had a little bread and 
 a glass of wine. Good Uncle Charles ate like a 
 schoolboy, and no one shall grudge him his 
 innocent pleasure and healthy appetite, though 
 he did want to paint Queen Philippa pleading for 
 the burgesses of Calais. 
 
 " Do they always make such a noise ? '' asked 
 Nellie. 
 
 *"' Oh, they like a noise I think. They always 
 have harness that jingles if possible, and pavements 
 that rattle, and trumpets and bells and electric 
 gongs to start trains with/' replied Ida, "it makes 
 things more cheerful.^' 
 
 "I suppose that man in the shiny flat cap is 
 the guard of the Oh, goodness ! " 
 
 The man in the shiny cap intoned a list of 
 names in a robust voice and solemn manner, in- 
 creasing in loudness at the finish, and ending in a 
 sonorous explosion of *'En voiture ! '' 
 
 " Ah, well, you had better get into the train," 
 said Mr. Potter. 
 
 In the train, after the passing excitement of 
 having their tickets examined by a French guard 
 who hung on to the outside of the train as it moved 
 
140 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 along, Nellie fixed her eyes on France, anxious not 
 to lose a detail. And she found the old town of 
 Calais very interesting and picturesque, and quite 
 unlike anything in England, during the slow 
 circuitous excursion made by the train before 
 arriving in Calais-Ville station. 
 
 After Boulogne, and several miles of level 
 country and poplar-trees, she grew rather sleepy, 
 and was in a kind of confused dream, until Ida said : 
 
 " Wake up, Nellie ! We shall be in Paris 
 directly ! '^ And she saw lights and black outlines 
 of buildings against the pale evening sky as they 
 rolled along, lights near, and lights far ofi^, and faint 
 •white walls, and tall, isolated clumps of houses, 
 and a confusion of engines, signal lamps, and 
 noisy swervings of the train, all in the same 
 horizontal light of a fine July evening, until it 
 suddenly seemed to become dark, and tall banks 
 of houses, whose tops she could not see, closed them 
 in. Then an electric light glared, and they were 
 in a great, hollow, desolate, resounding, asphalte- 
 paved terminus. 
 
 " Here is Paris,^' said Ida. 
 
 Soon Nellie had the pleasure of seeing a small 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 141 
 
 and sullen-looking authority in a kepi doing a kind 
 of aimless displacement of all the contents of lier 
 trunk, and breathing garlic into her new dress. 
 Having satisfied conscience by this useful per- 
 formance, he made ferocious chalk-marks (which 
 were afterwards found to be absolutely indelible) 
 on all the other things, and let them go with an 
 expression of rankling and malignant hate. 
 
 Then followed that long drive which all know so 
 well, down the Rue Lafayette into the part of Paris 
 known and appreciated by the English traveller. 
 The atmosphere was beautifully clear, and the sky 
 showed yellow between the tall, pale houses at the 
 ends of those streets where all the houses are tall. 
 It is true that the rattle and jingle of the traffic, the 
 perpetual cafe or brasserie, the wide tree-shaded 
 electric-lit asphalte boulevard, the glitter and 
 meretricious splendour of its restaurants, with 
 their crowded terrasses, and the clear air, are all 
 things which help to make a marked difEerence 
 between the aspect and character of Paris and 
 that of London to the most superficial observer; 
 but perhaps the greatest difference, and the most 
 permanent, is the general uniformity and tallness of 
 
142 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 the streets in the former capital. The house may 
 be rich and imposing, with great doors to let in 
 carriages to the courtyard, where plants grow in 
 green pots, and a fountain sprinkles and tinkles, 
 and liveried servants come and go ; or it may be 
 mangy, and frowsy, with dark and gloomy passages 
 leading by damp staircases to brick-floored apart- 
 ments, with the eternal yellow square bill of 
 Ajp'partement a loner, or the faded inscription of 
 Hotel garni over a suspicious-looking lantern up 
 a court covered with chopped firewood, in a 
 narrow street pervaded with composite stinks, 
 but the house is invariably tall with garrets 
 in the roof. This is a state of things which 
 marks the difference between the two cities in- 
 delibly, and there is, perhaps, in the minds, and 
 lives, and inherited traditions of the inhabitants of 
 both, some reason for the difference, which would 
 be interesting to trace. But the tracing must be 
 done by an imagination familiar with both. It 
 cannot be set down and demonstrated like the 
 origin of an organ from epiblast or mesoblast. Go 
 and look at Gower Street, and then go and look at 
 all that is left of the Eue St. Jacques, and you will 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 143 
 
 see what I mean. Botli are more or less academic 
 in their neighbourhood and traditions, and are 
 inhabited by classes of people roughly analogous in 
 their social position, and are good enough for com- 
 parison. Then look at Eegent Street about ten in 
 the evening, and go along the Boulevards from the 
 Madeleine to the Rue de Faubourg Montmartre 
 about the same time, and you will see again. I 
 am not condemning anything. Gower Street may 
 be much more beautiful than the Rue St. Jacques ; 
 Regent Street may be far better without trees, 
 and almost without light, and of course is much 
 more morally beautiful than the Boulevard Mont- 
 martre, though its houses are a little paltry. 
 
 Meanwhile my pilgrims were installed in com- 
 fortable apartments (from Nellie's point of view, 
 luxurious and palatial) with a view of the gardens 
 of the Tuileries. Nellie and Ida sat together at 
 the open window of their room — they shared a 
 bed-room — and looked at the sunset away to the 
 right, and listened to the noise of Paris, which is 
 so dear to some, at the time when every one is free 
 of work and going out into the summer evening in 
 search of some sort of pleasure. 
 
144 AN VNFOUTUNATE ARBANGEMEXT, 
 
 "Isn't it jolly ? ^' said Ida, putting her arm 
 round the other's waist. 
 
 " It is wonderful. My mind is so full of all 
 sorts of thoughts that I can't express them." 
 
 " We will go out soon and have a walk about. 
 A summer evening like this is just the opportunity 
 to see the Parisians. And perhaps a little dinner 
 will loosen your thoughts out.^^ 
 
 ** I don't understand one bit what they say, 
 though I am supposed to have learned French in 
 immense quantities. I tried to understand the 
 maid here, who made an amiable remark when she 
 brought in the hot water, but I didn't entirely 
 grasp it." 
 
 " Oh, these languages work into one in time, 
 after you've heard them a good deal. C^est qa ! is 
 always a safe thing to say when in doubt, likewise 
 ahsolument.'^ 
 
 Uncle Charles knocked and came in, large, 
 clean, and cheery, having undergone that very 
 thorough cleansing, grooming, and clean-shirting, 
 which are so indispensable to Englishmen after 
 a longish journey. He had on an unobtrusive suit 
 of dark brown tweed, and a soft brown hat Ida 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 145 
 
 liad selected for him to travel in, and looked rather 
 picturesque, and very nearly handsome — a rather 
 stout, good-humoured bandit, with a crimson neck- 
 tie of Japanese silk flashing through his beard. 
 
 ^' Well, girls, will you dine in the hotel or 
 somewhere outside ? I don't myself care which, 
 provided it be soon." It was agreed that it would 
 be more novel and adventurous to ^^go some- 
 where." 
 
 " All right. Get your hats on as quick as you 
 can. I will wait down below in the courtyard.'' 
 When they came down into the oblong courtyard 
 they found Uncle Charles sitting on one of the 
 ironwork seats conversing with a gentleman. On 
 their appearance both rose, Ida said : " Oh, how do 
 you do ? " And Uncle Charles introduced, " My 
 niece — Mr. Stanton." " Have you dined ? " said 
 Uncle Charles ; ^^ because if not you might join us 
 and help me to amuse these girls. We are just 
 going in search of what we may devour." 
 
 " I shall be delighted. Have you decided where 
 to go ? " 
 
 " Not exactly, I want somewhere handy and 
 tolerably respectable. The places I used to know 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 in tlie good old days when I studied painting here 
 will hardly do. By Jove, how late we used to sit 
 up in some rowdy shabby old gargotte discussing 
 Art ! " And Uncle Charles smiled at the remem- 
 brance of the very harmless days of his vanity, 
 when he used to indulge in a reckless way in long 
 hair, cigarettes, bocks, and billiards, and sometimes 
 sit up on a summer night at a little table on the 
 Boulevard St. Michel till two o'clock, arguing 
 about some such '^ advanced '' subject as the 
 morality of the " Dame aux Camelias,'' or the 
 morbidity of Alfred de Musset, and fancying 
 himself the wildest of Bohemians. 
 
 " If you will take my advice, you will go to one 
 of the places along by the Opera ; you will see 
 plenty of the passing population, which I suppose 
 is what these young ladies will like, and you will 
 get a good dinner, which I take it is what you and 
 I like." 
 
 " Very true — let's have a couple of cabs. You 
 and I in one, and the girls to follow in the 
 other." 
 
 And so they started. When Nellie had 
 recovered from admiring the glazed white hat of 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 147 
 
 the driver of the little victoria, the crowded 
 pavements of the Avenue de I'Opera, and the 
 general brilliancy of the prospect, and paid 
 attention to the red-legged soldiers, the hatless 
 shop-girls, and the electric lights over-mastering 
 the sinking daylight, she asked who Mr. Stanton 
 was. 
 
 '^ Well, he is more or less in society, he is 
 related to several swells, he seems pretty well off, 
 considered clever, we have known him some time, 
 and that is about all there is to say. He is not 
 married, he lives generally in London, and what 
 he is like you can see for yourself/' 
 
 ''Do you like him?'' 
 
 *' Can't say that I am particularly struck with 
 him. Some girls admire him awfully, I'm told. 
 Father is rather fond of him, I think. How do 
 you like the Opera ? " 
 
 Nellie of course thought that highly-decorated 
 structure very fine indeed ; then she added, after 
 a little thought : 
 
 '' But it looks as though it ought to be taken 
 indoors in bad weather." 
 
 Under the guidance of Mr. Stanton, they 
 
 L 2 
 
148 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 entered one of the many boulevard restaurants — 
 a dazzling combination of gas, gilt, and looking- 
 glasses, full of the hum and rattle of conversation, 
 and the odour of wine and coffee, savoury cates 
 and cigarettes — and installed themselves in a 
 choice corner, where they could see the people 
 sitting or passing outside, and were ministered 
 to by an extremely polite waiter, who had great 
 ideas of British wealth, generosity, and helpless 
 ignorance of coinage, prices, and bills of fare. 
 Here Mr. Stanton was useful, for he knew exactly 
 the right things to recommend, and the right prices 
 to give for them, and rapidly convinced the waiter 
 that his ambitions would have to suffer modifi- 
 cation. And while they slaked their healthy 
 traveller's hunger on lio7's d'ceuvres, Nellie had an 
 opportunity of taking one or two good looks at 
 Mr. Stanton. 
 
 In the first place, he had short-cut, dark hair, 
 and was clean shaved. Now there are some four 
 roughly distinguishable classes of clean-shaved faces. 
 There is that of the sailor, with steady, keen eyes, 
 a cheerful, boyish expression, and a colour which 
 the wind, and sun, and water of many climes have 
 
4 
 AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT. 149 
 
 helped to produce. There is that of the barrister 
 in practice, with contracted eyes, a keen nose and 
 mouth, and a complexion of indoors, gaslight, and 
 late hours, except when he has just come back 
 from his Long Vacation tour. Again, there is 
 that of the priest, grave and suave, varying from 
 bland to severe, often keen, too, in a subdued way. 
 Lastly there is the face of the actor, varying 
 from lean to pulpy, mostly grave, sometimes 
 stately, seldom keen, expression none in particular, 
 complexion none in particular, eyebrows richly 
 developed, lips tense. Stanton had rather the 
 barrister kind of face, with the sailor colouring, 
 but did not look tired, as the barrister generally 
 does. His face was more square than long, and 
 his eyebrows were as nearly horizontal as eyebrows 
 ever are, while the eyes were in large orbits, 
 retiring rather than prominent, but were large, 
 steady, cold-gray eyes which could see a long way. 
 His nose was straight, and his mouth regularly 
 shaped and handsome, but the lips did not show 
 much. His face in repose was rather stately, and 
 he looked over thirty. His height was about five 
 feet eight, and he had well-made, slender hands 
 
150 J2V UNFOBTUNATE ABBAXGFMENT. 
 
 with carefully tended finger-nails, and a ring on eacli, 
 one opal and one cat's-eye. He was dressed just 
 as if he were in St. James's Street, with a black coat, 
 gloves, a tall hat, and a gold-headed cane, but had so 
 far adapted himself to Parisian practices as to wear 
 a French collar and a necktie in a bow falling 
 outside his coat. He spoke French with apparent 
 ease. The result of her investigation was that 
 Nellie could not make him out in the least, and 
 did not make up her mind whether she thought 
 him '^nice" or not. But she found herself eating 
 a very good dinner and washing it down with 
 Pommard, and, after all her fatigues and sufferings, 
 that was very satisfactory, and made her at peace 
 with the world and amiably-disposed towards 
 everybody. She examined with pleased curiosity a 
 couple of dapper little officers in smart uniforms 
 who were sitting at a neighbouring table, and was 
 informed that officers nearly always wore uniform 
 abroad. 
 
 '''I don't see why they shouldn't in England," 
 said Ida, ''it would look much nicer." 
 
 " It would certainly take a little from the gloom 
 of the streets — I speak as a cockney — but no doubt 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 151 
 
 YOU know/' said Mr. Stanton^ " that the general 
 practice of wearing mufti in England is com- 
 paratively recent. If you remember, the officers of 
 Thackeray are always in uniform. Sir Derby Oaks 
 is depicted going to call on Miss Fotheringay in a 
 tight shell- jacket and a sword. Dobbin, too, is 
 always in uniform, with strapped white trousers. 
 Lever's dragoons go in uniform to dine with 
 O'Malley in Hall at Trinity, Dublin.^' 
 
 " Oh yes,'' said Uncle Charles, ^' I dare say they 
 would take to it again, and be glad of it, if it were 
 only the fashion or the form, or the general order, 
 or whatever it is." 
 
 " Oh, it is simply that we have become • an 
 industrial and democratic instead of a militant and 
 despotic State like Germany or Russia, or a militant 
 and passionately ambitious nation like France. 
 We don't want to be a military people, and there 
 are few things our City men and politicians would 
 loathe more than to become what the Germans are, 
 for example, a 'Folk in Weapons,' though they 
 don't mind a little athletics in uniform called 
 Manoeuvres at Easter." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Uncle Charles, wiping 
 
152 AN UNFOIITUXATE ABRANGEMENT. 
 
 the burgundy out of his beard ; *^they used to call 
 us a nation of shopkeepers in the old days, but we 
 managed to keep the shop pretty safe. We always 
 had absurdly inferior forces, but we seemed to 
 work 'em pretty well/' 
 
 " Quite so. But don't you think the immense 
 change in the conditions will make thaV, form of 
 argument less trustworthy than it used to be ? I 
 don't know anything about the matter technically 
 at all, I may as well say at once. No one could 
 be a more peaceful man than I am, and dying 
 gloriously for my country is a temptation I could 
 resist easily." 
 
 '' Oh yes, you young fellows think it clever 
 
 to talk like that, but you would be in your 
 
 place right enough when the time came, I dare 
 say." 
 
 " It is very kind of you to call me a young 
 fellow, at any rate, and if you will ascribe hypothe- 
 tical heroic qualities to me I suppose I had better 
 not repudiate them ; " then turning to the girls, 
 he asked if they had formed any plans for the 
 following day. Nellie looked at Ida and evidently 
 left the reply to her. Ida said : 
 
 " Well, really, we have* hardly thought about 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 153 
 
 it yet. You see we have only just come, and 
 fatigue and hunger drove everything out of our 
 heads." What she meant, as subsequently ex- 
 plained to Nellie, was that she knew quite well 
 what she intended to propose, but did not wish to 
 have Mr. Stanton attached to the permanent staff, 
 so to speak, and knowing that Mr. Potter was 
 good-natured and not always ready at taking a hint, 
 thought he would recklessly throw out general 
 invitations to join them to their present guest. 
 " You see,'^ said Ida, that evening, as they went 
 to bed, *' I don't want him to tell us where to go, 
 and hang about explaining everything, and being 
 obliging and all that, nor do I want him to make 
 sneering remarks at my own choice of amusements, 
 and saying he ' supposes the young ladies will like to 
 go to the Bon Marche,' or he ' takes it the young 
 ladies would like some ices.' I want us to enjoy our- 
 selves in our own way, and by ourselves — including 
 father in ' ourselves ' of course." 
 
 '' Don't you like Mr. Stanton ? " said Nellie. 
 
 " To put it plainly, I don't. What is your idea 
 of him?" 
 
 " I am not sure. I shall wait and see. But 
 perhaps we shan't set? him again." 
 
154 AN' UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 '^ Perhaps not. Well, it doesn't mucli matter." 
 This parenthetically. 
 
 After dinner, they all four strolled out along 
 the Boulevard des Italiens and mixed with the 
 usual crowd to be found there on a summer 
 evening. It being difficult to walk four abreast, 
 Mr. Stanton and Nellie fell behind, she out of a 
 natural tendency to give way, he because she did, 
 and he began to talk to her. 
 
 '^ Are you fond of Paris ? " 
 
 " I can hardly say yet. It may seem curious to 
 you, but IVe never been here before. I have 
 never been anywhere.^' 
 
 " Then you have all the more pleasure before 
 you, instead of behind you.^' 
 
 "I suppose you have travelled a good deal?" 
 
 " Depends upon what j-ou call a good deal. The 
 world is said to be small ; but I've been round 
 it, and found it 9, good size ; a good, useful, 
 medium planet, with no immense exaggerations, 
 such as you find in Saturn, where it would take 
 you about forty years to be eighteen, and things 
 of that kind." 
 
 "Have you really been round the whole world? " 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 155 
 
 "Yes, really. Would you like to know tiie 
 way ? " 
 
 " Yes/^ 
 
 " Of course this is not the only way, but the 
 way I happened to go was perhaps a little off 
 the beaten track. I started from Newcastle, and 
 went to Norway, and then by Sweden to Finland, 
 through Russia and Siberia to the other side of 
 Asia, see ? So to Japan. Thence via Yokohama 
 to San Francisco ; the rest becomes rather beaten 
 tracks — Pacific Railway, Omaha, Council Bluffs, 
 New York and all that, then steamer, pool on 
 the run, record passage, deck-chairs, rope quoits, 
 flirtations with young millionairesses, and that 
 sort of thing.'' 
 
 ^'You must have seen a great deal. An im- 
 mense quantity of nice places and interesting 
 people and things." 
 
 "Yes. One sees a good deal of society of 
 one kind and another. The most wonderful number 
 of fashions, for example, in clothes and conduct." 
 
 ^' Do you always travel alone ? '' 
 
 " Always. It is so much jollier, I find. You 
 are absolutely independent, and you can be 
 
156 A^ UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 
 
 picking up interesting acquaintances everywliere. 
 If you have a companion you have to consider 
 him. If he has a head on — headache I mean, 
 or a cold, or a fever, or anything of that sort, 
 you have to stay in some deadly, dull, half-way 
 house somewhere to wait for him, and give him 
 his soda-water, or his chloral, or bromide, or 
 antipyrin, or whatever it is. Then either you 
 know more about the places than he does, and 
 have to keep explaining and tutoring, or he knows 
 more than you do, and brandishes his superior 
 knowledge of the language aggressively in your 
 face. And unless one of you is a miraculously 
 
 forbearing or unselfish person, there is sure to be 
 
 • 
 
 something approaching a row sooner or later. Oh, 
 I know. IVe tried it once, and with one of the 
 most original and in some ways the cleverest 
 men I know ; but it did not succeed well. AVe 
 were like two dogs chained together, pulling 
 opposite ways, such as you sometimes see tangling 
 themselves round a lamp-post at a railway station." 
 " Yes, I suppose one would have to be for- 
 bearing and unselfish; but why shouldn't both 
 be?" 
 
AN VNFOBTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 157 
 
 Nellie was thinking of Ida and herself. Stanton 
 was speaking generally. 
 
 " Because it is rarely you find those qualities in 
 anybody. But you mustn't encourage me to prose 
 about the moral qualities of mankind. Let us talk 
 about Paris, now we are here. There is the 
 Yarietes Theatre, there behind us, on the other 
 side. I suppose you will go to some of the 
 theatres ? '' 
 
 " I don't know. It depends upon Ida and 
 uncle. They will decide, and I shall be glad to 
 do anything they like. How brilliantly lit up 
 everything is ! It is like a fairy town." 
 
 "Not all good fairies I fancy. But it is a 
 pleasant place.'' 
 
 " What numbers of people ! " 
 
 '^ Yes, there is a large population." 
 
 Uncle Charles turned round, and said : 
 
 " I say, it's awfully hot. I'm going to sit 
 down and have one of those creaming bocks. I 
 dare say some of us might manage some ices as 
 well." 
 
 And they sat down round one of those little 
 tables under an awning, and made critical remarks 
 
158 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 on the personal appearance of the passers -by, who 
 were in great numbers, as is usual on fine evenings, 
 while the omnibuses jingled by, and rows of cabs 
 waited by the pavement, and the lights gleamed 
 through the lace curtains of the cabinets jparticuliers 
 on the entresols, and the calm, warm air was fall of 
 the pleasant sound and odour of a Parisian summer 
 evening. 
 
 When the Potters at last rose to go home, 
 and to go to bed early in expectation of a hard and 
 hot day of sight-seeing on the morrow, Mr. Stanton 
 preferred to remain, and said to Nellie : 
 
 " How do you like your first evening in Paris ? " 
 
 '^ Oh, very much indeed, thank you/' And 
 when she" and Ida had their confidential bedtime 
 conversation (including what has already been 
 reported), Nellie kissed her cousin, and said : 
 
 " Pm so grateful to you for bringing me, you 
 can't think/' 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In the morniDg after breakfast they decided to 
 walk down fiie Champs Ely sees as far as the 
 Salon. Nellie was greatly taken with the spacious 
 symmetry and white dazzling sunlight of the 
 Place de la Concorde, and paid attention to every- 
 thing she saw, from the men who dragged water- 
 hose about on little wheels and countless red-legged 
 soldiers in all directions, to the elaborately, au- 
 dacious, and skilfully perverse dresses and hats 
 of the more fashionable females. Moreover, she 
 noticed among the lower class that every woman 
 knew how to do her hair. It was a fine, hot 
 morning, and the long colonnade of the Rue de 
 Rivoli looked very white and clear as it stretched 
 off in its rigid way to be lost in the maze of 
 housetops and atmospheric thickness out some- 
 
160 AX UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 
 
 where towards the crowded and precipitous-looking 
 quarters near the Hotel de Yille. 
 
 It need hardly be described how these two 
 girls stopped at all the shops under that colonnade 
 and looked at photographs through large monocles, 
 and thought the oriental pipe, amber, pastille, and 
 rubbish booths very interesting and original, and 
 how the sunlight, and the general smart, cleanly 
 appearance of the people (due to colouring and 
 air rather than habits), and the eter,nal trot trot, 
 ring jingle of the traffic entered into their senses 
 and made them feel the feverish joy which all 
 sensitive persons acquire on first learning to know 
 Paris. It is in the air, somehow, especially in 
 spring and summer-time. There is something 
 feminine and febrile in the feeling no doubt, but 
 in Paris ideas get feminine and febrile. The very 
 street-cries are musical, and the poor people are 
 civil to one another. Nellie had not spoken of 
 Mr. Stanton that morning, nor had they seen him. 
 Ida thought it just as well, as it seemed to her 
 he was an entirely unnecessary person, who had 
 come between her and Nellie and turned a possibly 
 jolly evening into a dull exchange of polite con- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 161 
 
 versation. She thouglit that if Nellie, in her 
 inexperience, were to take a fancy to him it would 
 be a great pity, as it would spoil some possible 
 and desirable future young man's chances, and 
 she knew pretty well that Harold Stanton was 
 not likely to really want to marry anybody, 
 certainly not a young lady from a country par- 
 sonage whose face was her fortune. 
 
 Nellie of course had not "taken a fancy/' as 
 Ida's premature forebodings put it ; but he had 
 struck her as interesting, just as the first person 
 one meets who can talk and knows things always 
 does strike one. 
 
 They preferred walking all the way, because 
 they felt active and reckless, and because walking 
 meant frequent stopping to examine everything 
 in general, and shop-windows in particular. Uncle 
 Charles smoked his cigar and strode along, halt- 
 ing with exemplary patience whenever required 
 even before jewellery and umbrella shops of the 
 most commonplace description, interesting because 
 Parisian, though in quality and design about fit 
 to compare with the Tottenham Court Road. 
 
 Soon he was relieved from this martyrdom when 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
162 AN UNFORTUNATE ABUANGEMENT. 
 
 they passed into the Champs Elysees, the freshness 
 and shade of which soothed and delighted them this 
 hot July morning, and they were shortly climbing 
 the long staircases of the Salon. It being both 
 early and hot, and the exhibition having been 
 already open some months, the rooms were far 
 from crowded, and they made their way about 
 with ease. Before they had gone far they found 
 themselves being greeted by Mr. Stanton, who 
 was there already, and at once attached himself 
 to the party. Uncle Charles had naturally plenty 
 to say about the pictures, to which Mr. Stanton 
 listened with apparent respect, though he made 
 an occasional suggestion of his own, beginning 
 
 " Don't you think " and then allowed himself 
 
 to be convinced by Uncle Charles's explanations, 
 which, to tell the truth, were mostly foolish and 
 futile, though kindly. The good man's art con- 
 sisted of manual dexterity and a correct eye, but 
 he was destitute of ideas, and the feverish origin- 
 ality, eccentricity, and occasional absolute perversity 
 of some of the French pictures puzzled and annoyed 
 him. He would complain that the grouping was 
 bad, for example, in a work in which the painter 
 
AK UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 163 
 
 liad prided liimself precisely on the entire absence 
 of grouping*. Then again he thought that the 
 predominance of naked females in so many works 
 was undesirable and bad taste : " Not that I mind 
 studies from the classic nude ; but there is some- 
 thing different, not the least classic, and much 
 too actual about some of these. It is not nudity, 
 it is nakedness.^^ 
 
 ''I am afraid if the painters heard you," said 
 Mr. Stanton, *' they would say that actuality is 
 exactly what they aim at. You see their tempera- 
 ment is so different from ours." 
 
 '' Yes. Ah well, I think we may congratulate 
 ourselves on our temperament. Though a lot of 
 rubbish gets into the Academy, you hardly ever 
 see anything offensive." 
 
 " But don't you think — I speak as a fool — 
 that there is something just as offensive, in a 
 different way, in a picture characterised by bad 
 drawing, or incorrect colour, or general artistic 
 incompetency, as in a well-executed work the 
 subject of which you disapprove ? " Uncle Charles 
 made a puzzled kind of face, and replied : 
 
 " Well, I don^t know so much about that. It 
 
 M 2 
 
164 AN UNFORTUNATE AURANGEMENT. 
 
 seems to me that while a bad picture can hurt 
 nobody — I mean a badly done picture — a morbid or 
 too suggestive subject can hurt a lot of people, 
 and perhaps the better it is done, the more harm 
 it can doj especially to young persons. Virginihus 
 jpuerisqiie, maxima reverentia, you know, and all 
 that sort of thing." 
 
 ''There seems something in that, certainly. 
 But if you approach the matter and contemplate it 
 from a merely artistic standpoint, does that not dis- 
 place, or rather put for the moment in abeyance the 
 merely moral standpoint, which is concerned with 
 the impression a portrait of a young woman, who 
 has sat with no clothes on for so many shillings 
 for so many hours, may make on the uncultivated 
 gazer ? What you see from the artistic standpoint 
 is, I suppose, a picture, more or less well done, of 
 something more or less cleverly chosen. A portion 
 of life, or nature, seen by an individual of a certain 
 skill and a certain turn of mind. It is to him, 
 most likely, neither moral nor immoral, it is simply 
 a product, one among many of his art, and is to 
 be esteemed according to its value as such. Per- 
 sonally, you know, I have no particular standpoint 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 165. 
 
 at all. I like a picture or I don't like it, maybe ; 
 but I don't concern myself with, the serious re- 
 sponsibilities of art criticism." 
 
 '' Ah, by Jove, now ! That's good ! " exclaimed 
 Uncle Charles, rather glad to escape from the 
 uncertain depths of artistic heterodoxy into which 
 he was being tempted by going into raptures 
 before an Egyptian or Algerian picture, all blue 
 sky and dazzling and distinct white and yellow 
 architecture, with one or two fantastically-attired 
 black persons in the foreground. " Look at that 
 colouring now ! And it's all so jolly clear, you 
 can pick out those minarets like filigree. I must 
 really go to Egypt some of these days and pick 
 up some good bits." 
 
 While Mr. Stanton and Uncle Charles were 
 thus discoursing, Ida and Nellie were straying 
 about the same room, looking at pictures and 
 talking together. Ida liked the pictures in which 
 the frivolous motive prevailed, the young men 
 rowing young women in elaborate aquatic costumes 
 in boats, the same class of people picnicking on the 
 green shores of some island, a dancer in a muslin 
 skirt like a catherine-wheel, seated on a rush- 
 
166 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 bottomed cliair leaning against a gray plasterj 
 wallj the flashy military scenes, and any other 
 picture in which the most modern of people of 
 both sexes were engaged in modern amusements 
 and occupations in modern dresses. The Salon 
 to her was to be used and looked at as a kind 
 of illustrated paper with comic tendencies, the 
 leaves to be turned over and skipped if serious 
 or instructive. Nellie naturally preferred the quiet 
 country landscapes, the girls driving cattle along 
 straight roads flanked with poplars, and the 
 brown-sailed fishing-boats; but the other matters 
 to which Ida called her attention, and the to 
 her surprising impropriety, which forced itself 
 momentarily on her notice in different directions, 
 put her into an entirely new, partly pleasant, and 
 partly ashamed state of mind. She felt the charm 
 of the forbidden, the unknown, the fast, and the 
 frivolous, and was glad her mother was not there 
 to witness her education in art ; but she was a 
 little ashamed of what Mr. Stanton would think 
 of her, and would rather [she and Ida had been 
 there alone, or only with entire strangers present. 
 She felt also ashamed of being ashamed. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 167 
 
 In due course Mr. Stanton joined her, and said: 
 " There is a refreshing absence of dogs and babies 
 here, as compared to the Academy, is there not. 
 Miss Potter ? '' 
 
 '^No; there are not many. But I rather like 
 dogs." 
 
 " So do I ; in moderation, and as associates ; 
 but hardly as a main subject for pictures every 
 year. I think we have the late Edwin Landseer's 
 pretty wit to thank for that. He is responsible 
 for the invention of the picture- dog; the creature 
 with a human expression and profound philosophic 
 insight, or angelic sympathy and benevolence 
 such as dogs don't have.'' 
 
 '' Don't you like Landseer ? " 
 
 Landseer was known to Nellie through prints 
 and chromo-lithographs, and his name ranked 
 vaguely in her mind with Michael Angelo, and 
 Milton, and Macaulay, and was in the established 
 catalogue of beings called in her educational hand- 
 books " great men.'' 
 
 " I think he was a clever painter, and I believe 
 he was an agreeable man ; but his pictures seem 
 to me exaggerated sentimentalities with a tendency 
 
168 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 to photographic posing. That, no doubt, is what 
 made him so popular." 
 
 Nellie was houleversee again. Every hour of 
 her new life seemed to bring something to violently 
 shock or completely contradict all her more or 
 less rooted or grafted convictions and unquestioned 
 traditions, and she found herself without a word 
 to say in their defence. She began to get into 
 an excitedly vacuous expectant state, with no 
 particularly definite opinions about anything, ex- 
 cept that it was a fine, hot day, that she was 
 enjoying herself, and that Mr. Stanton provoked 
 her curiosity. He continued to talk in a quiet, 
 soothing way about everything the changing sug- 
 gestions of the pictures and surroundings might 
 bring to mind; and Nellie listened, feeling young 
 and very ignorant, but interested and surprised. 
 She thought it was very kind of Mr. Stanton, 
 who was evidently well-informed and clever, to 
 take the trouble to try to amuse her at all, and 
 to find her a seat just when she felt tired of 
 standing about, but did not like to say so. Ida 
 did not tolerate this state of things long, but 
 told her father that it "\ivas time for dejeuner d la 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 169 
 
 fourcliette, wliicli was exactly what good Uncle 
 Charles was yearning for ; so she joined Nellie^ 
 and told her that such was the next step con- 
 templated, to the exclusion of Mr. Stanton, who 
 thereat took his leave ; and the Potters all went 
 away together to the restaurant, and sat down at 
 a table in an out-of-the-way corner. 
 
 " Tiring work, isn't it ? '' said Mr. Potter. " I 
 think we have all had about enough of it/' and he 
 spread his napkin on his lap and looked at the bill 
 of fare with a far keener enthusiasm than he could 
 at that moment have got up for any picture. Then 
 when the meal had been ordered, and the girls 
 were laughingly breaking up the immense length 
 of bread laid across the table, Mr. Potter observed : 
 
 '^ Clever young fellow, that Stanton, eh ! '' 
 
 " Yes/' said Nellie. 
 
 Ida said, with quiet precision : 
 
 " He is a conceited beast. What business has 
 he to force himself on to our party, and lecture 
 father about pictures, and explain everything to us 
 about everything ? We don't want him. If 
 father had been weak enough to ask him to join us, 
 there would be some excuse for him, but I call it 
 
170 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 simple impertinence. We hardly know him at 
 home, and we want to be jolly by ourselves, and if 
 we have got debased and popular ideas of art, we 
 mean to go on having them all the more, rather 
 than be improved by Mr. Stanton. Don't we, 
 father ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know but what you are right, Ida; 
 but, after all, the fellow is well-connected, agreeable 
 and well off, and hasn't done us any harm, don't you 
 know. A fellow must be civil." 
 
 " Then a fellow can begin by not gluing him- 
 self on to a private family party, who want to 
 enjoy themselves in their own way. Perhaps it's a 
 foolish way, but that's our business, and not his.'' 
 
 Nellie was sorry to listen to this argument, for 
 she liked Mr. Stanton as far as she could judge — 
 that is to say, she thought him " nice." 
 
 Ida became more cheerful very soon under the 
 influence of lunch and white wine. She had been 
 hungry and tired, and that had perhaps aggravated 
 her grievances. After lunch she was quite happy, 
 and seemed to have forgotten all about Mr. Stanton. 
 
 " How do you like Paris, as far as it goes, Nell ? " 
 asked Ida, as she leaned back and fanned herself. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGE3IENT. 17 L 
 
 " I think it is great fun. I never tliouglit I 
 should be able to eat lunch at twelve, though, and 
 enjoy it. But one walks about more than one thinks, 
 especially looking at pictures, and that gets up an 
 appetite." 
 
 With this they fell into a long discourse on the 
 fashions, and the differences between the styles 
 they saV in Paris and those they had seen in 
 London. 
 
 In tjie meantime Mr. Potter smoked a cigar, 
 and drank black coffee. He was great on adapting 
 himself to the customs of the country. He always 
 called his lunch " breakfast " when in Paris, and 
 took the lethal composition of Italian vinegar, rosin, 
 and anilinfe dyes, necnon the deuce-knows-what, 
 known as " Bordeaux ordinaire," with a simulated 
 preference to the good pale Allsopp of his native 
 land, saying, rather triumphantly : " I always take 
 the rough wine of the country ; '^ on the same 
 admirable principle he took coffee after " break- 
 fast," and disordered his liver further with North 
 German potato spirit, saying that a little good old 
 cognac aided digestion. Having a very good 
 constitution. Uncle Charles did not get the bilious 
 
172 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 attack he deserved during the few days they were 
 in Paris ; perhaps, too, because he took an immense 
 deal of walking exercise, going about sight-seeing 
 with the two girls. 
 
 Their practice soon arranged itself into a system, 
 which involved a good deal of walking, and was of 
 this kind : in the morning an argument over 
 breakfast with G-alignani, Baedeker, and a map, as 
 to what they should " do '' that day ; later on a 
 start, with sunshades, and fresh, clean faces, and 
 neat dresses from the hotel, amid bowing porters 
 and waiters; then a long walk in blazing sun- 
 shine, over smelling asphalte, to the place to be 
 " seen," say the Invalides, or Hotel de Cluny, or 
 Notre Dame, with stoppings or turnkigs round 
 every few minutes, to look at something in a shop ; 
 about eleven or thereabouts, arrival at the object of 
 the pilgrimage, and study of the same, explication 
 by officials, followed by largesse from Uncle 
 Charles ; close on twelve, search in the neighbour- 
 hood fora tolerable restaurant, and lunch at a venture, 
 usually at a fixed price, sometimes good and some- 
 times indifferent, washed down by the "rough wine 
 of the country ; " after lunch, desultory walk, end- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 173 
 
 ing in a ride in an omnibus, probably to an entirely 
 unknown terminus, more desultory walking, and 
 shop-window halting ; fatigue and dust, culminat- 
 ing in ices at the first decent-looking cafe for the 
 girls, " bock '' for Uncle Charles, and a cab to the 
 hotel ; this brought the party to about three o'clock, 
 and they would then go to their rooms to '*^rest,^' 
 which meant general siesta till about half-past four, 
 then '^ wash and brush up," and cups of tea, chairs 
 and novels, or newspapers, in the courtyard, sub- 
 dued chatter between the two girls, with occasional 
 suppressed fizzing laughter which betokened personal 
 remarks about somebody — Ida was always invent- 
 ing nicknames for the people at the table d^hote — 
 and at six the event, the function of the day, dinner ; 
 at dinner, more " rough wine of the country " with 
 siphons ; after dinner, a stroll out of doors, most 
 likely in Mr. Stanton's company, ending in ices 
 for the girls, " bock " for Uncle Charles, and 
 mysterious messes in glasses for Mr. Stanton, of 
 which they could not quite make out the names. 
 
 One evening they went to the play, to a play 
 Mr. Stanton had recommended, for which the 
 hotel porter procured them tickets. But the seats 
 
174 AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 were narrow and hard, the temperature stifling, 
 there was no orchestra, the '^ waits " were half an 
 hour long, and no one of the three understood 
 three consecutive words of the piece, so they 
 renounced theatres. The circus was a much 
 greater success. Then in one of their evening 
 strolls they strolled into the Amhassadeurs in the 
 Champs filysees, and were much entertained, 
 though puzzled, and Uncle Charles wondered '^now 
 why can't they have this sort of thing in London 
 out of doors ? Plenty of room along the Victoria 
 Embankment." Mr. Stanton, who was of the 
 party, was inclined to sniff and sneer rather at 
 cafes - concerts, and said that the Alhambra and 
 Royal were twice as amusing, and three times as 
 enterprising, though in deference to Mr. Potter he 
 quite admitted it would be more wholesome to 
 have the entertainments out of doors, and more 
 pleasant, though the fogs would be awkward to 
 
 tackle. 
 
 At last the time came when the Potters decided 
 that they had had enough of Paris, and took their 
 last table d'hote one fine evening in the presence 
 of the now famihar faces to which Ida had privately 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AliBANGEMENT. 175 
 
 appended grotesque names_, and washed down their 
 slices of underdone beef, legs of chicken and scraps 
 of salad for the last time with siphons and the 
 '^ rough wine of the country/' of this country at 
 all events. Mr. Stanton knew they were going to 
 leave and yet was not present at dinner, which 
 iN^ellie was rather surprised and resentful at, 
 thinking that though he might have other engage- 
 ments or get better dinners elsewhere (though 
 she thought it a good enough dinner for anybody), 
 he might as well have been there that once at any 
 rate — for Nellie was thinking that she would miss 
 Mr. Stanton j Ida, who had begun a few days ago 
 to " chaff " her cousin about Mr. Stanton, to Nellie's 
 great confusion and abasement, was delighted, and 
 hoped they never would see him again. 
 
 ** Well, we are going to take a new step on our 
 pilgrimage now,'' said Uncle Charles jovially, as he 
 tucked in his soup (it is really the only word), with 
 his napkin arranged like a pinafore. The latter 
 feature was part of the general process of " adaption 
 to the customs of the country," as he never did it 
 when at home, and was mocked at by Ida the first 
 time he did it in Paris. That young lady now said : 
 
176 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 ''You^ll have to adapt yourself to a new lot of 
 customs in a different country now, father, and I hope 
 and believe you don't know anything about them.'' 
 
 *'No, I don't know much about Germany, but 
 I'll soon make myself at home. I quite grasp the 
 spirit of the people, I think, already. Capital 
 fellows, philosophers, don't you know, deep thinkers 
 and all that." 
 
 ^'That will just suit us, won't it, Nell? Well, 
 all I hope is that Corney Grain won't catch sight 
 of us somewhere, adapting ourselves to the spirit 
 and practice of the deep thinkers." 
 
 " Deep something else rhyming to thinkers, 
 too ; 'gin a' tales be true," retorted Uncle Charles, 
 laughing. Dear old man, he didn't mind being 
 made fun of in the least ; and was as happy as a 
 boy in the idea that strangers took him for a 
 '^ foreigner " of some sort. 
 
 Shortly after dinner, trunks, umbrellas, and 
 wrappings were " descended," had the hotel label 
 conspicuously pasted on them, and were hoisted on 
 the roof of an omnibus. Uncle Charles gave a 
 generous pourboire to the hotel porter, facetiously 
 asked if he had any message for the Prussians, and 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 177 
 
 they were driven away under a bright, golden sky^ 
 to the station at the top of the Boulevard de 
 Sebastopol, where a great and prolonged delay and 
 "botheration/' as Uncle Charles most justifiably 
 put it, took place over the luggage, endless pro- 
 cession of trucks going in queue to be weighed, 
 labelled, and wrangled over, while sonorous nasal* 
 voices shouted immense numbers of kilograms 
 into pigeon-holes, and unhappy tourists stood 
 fearing they would never get their tickets back,, 
 or catch the train, and seeing a pickpocket ini 
 every bystander. At last it was all over, and 
 they were allowed on the platform, and got on 
 
 board the " Orient Express." Here Nellie met with 
 a pleasant surprise which her cousin had carefully 
 concealed from her till this moment. She found 
 that she and Ida were to have a little cabin with 
 two beds in it to themselves, which struck her as 
 the acme of cosiness and the perfection of comfort- 
 able travelling; also that the car was permeable from 
 end to end, and had a washing place, and a polite 
 attendant in brown livery who spoke all languages, 
 and that there was a restaurant car attached, with 
 a nice smoking-room for Uncle Charles. 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 " What a perfectly delightful train/' said !N ellie. 
 ''Are we to be here till to-morrow ? " 
 
 '' Yes ; it is jolly, isn't it ? I thought you 
 would be impressed — I am, too. I never went 
 this way before. You see, they will make up the 
 beds out of these seats and things, somehow, 
 later on." 
 
 " Oh, it's splendid." And the two girls roamed 
 excitedly up and down the passage of the car, and 
 got in everybody's way. Uncle Charles, who was 
 to share a cabin with a large and hairy foreigner 
 of oriental aspect, remarked : 
 
 *' This train goes all the way to Bucharest, I 
 believe, through Austria and Hungary. I rather 
 think my neighbour is a Bulgarian atrocity, or a 
 Bashi-Bazouk, or something of that sort. Hope he 
 doesn't snore, anyway." 
 
 Just five minutes before the train started, Nellie 
 received another surprise. This was the arrival of 
 Mr. Stanton with a large bouquet of flowers, who 
 came to say good-bye. Nellie was much flattered, 
 and even Ida relented a little, and was quite civil. 
 Mr. Stanton expressed a hope that they might meet 
 later on, having received already copious information 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 179 
 
 as to the general plan of tlie Potters' tour. Then he 
 shook hands all round and said good-bye, and took 
 his hat off on the platform as the " Orient Express " 
 slowly moved off, while a little crowd ot '^ seeing 
 off " people flapped handkerchiefs and hands to 
 their friends in the train. Ida thought the whole 
 conduct of Mr. Stanton unintelligible. " Of course 
 he is perfectly correct," she reflected, ^^and has 
 said or done nothing extraordinary — but I don't 
 like him. I must look after this dear little silly, 
 it is very plain. I'll get her some other young 
 men, that'll be the way," 
 
 N -2 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 Mr. Potter and his daughter and his niece settled 
 down in the little compartment, which was after- 
 wards to become a bedroom for the two girls, 
 and Uncle Charles took out his cigar "etui'' 
 (a present from the girls, bought in the Rue de 
 Rivoli at a vast expense) and the latest number 
 of The Standard, and was soon absorbed in it, 
 and the effort to keep a Parisian cigar alight. 
 
 '^We cross the frontier, you know, some time,'' 
 said Ida to Nellie. Adding, gravely : " You must 
 mind and look out for the bump." 
 
 ^^ Will it wake us up ? " asked Nellie, in perfect 
 innocence, while Uncle Charles chuckled behind 
 his Standard at the innocent jape ; and Nellie 
 said : " Oh, you're laughing at me ! " after a pause, 
 and a careful scrutiny of Ida's expression, "it 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 181 
 
 doesn^t really, I don't believe ; but how do they 
 mark the place where one country leaves off and 
 the other begins ? Of course in our case it is very 
 easy." 
 
 " Yes, you know when you feel sick that you 
 are crossing the frontier between England and 
 France, so that's easy. I don't know how they 
 mark it exactly. I think there ought to be a well- 
 defined, coloured stripe, like what you get on the 
 map." 
 
 " I tell you what, girls," said Uncle Charles, 
 '^before bedtime we shall get to Epernay." 
 
 " And what PunU, as the Germans would say, 
 does that indicate ? " asked his daughter. 
 
 " Well, when I mention that it is more or less 
 the capital of the champagne district " 
 
 " You have said enough. We can get some, 
 can we, at the station — the genuine article, the, 
 so to speak, unsophizzticated fizz ? " 
 
 " Don't be an idiot. Yes ; at least, I suppose so. 
 I will interview that fellow in brown livery ; he's 
 sure to know all the little dodges, if any, and will 
 get it for us for a consideration." 
 
 And the train rolled along, and the girls chat- 
 
182 AN UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 
 
 tered and laughed, and Uncle Charles smoked and 
 read his paper, and the twilight arose, and pale 
 lights began to gleam here and there across the 
 country. 
 
 "We shan't see much more of France now," 
 remarked Mr. Potter, laying down his no longer 
 legible paper, and glancing out of window. " By 
 the way, when we get to Strasbourg, Ida, what 
 hotel are we going to ? I rely upon you, you know, 
 for all the Baedeker business.^' 
 
 " Oh, you bet I've looked that up. Hotel 
 Rothes Haus. I think you ought to sketch some- 
 thing in Germany, father. You had better begin 
 in Strasbourg. There are sure to be whole port- 
 folios full of picturesque houses and things, to say 
 nothing of the Cathedral.'' 
 
 " Strasbourg was taken by the Prussians in the 
 war, wasn't it ? " asked Nellie. 
 
 "Yes," replied Uncle Charles, "and pretty 
 severely handled, I believe. But I suppose it is 
 pretty much rebuilt by tlii^ time." 
 
 At Epernay, the brown conductor affably fell 
 in with their views, and presently appeared with a 
 bottle of champagne from some place near the 
 
AX UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 1S3 
 
 station, at a very moderate price; and tlie party- 
 had to share round in a small travelling- turn bier of 
 the nickel - plated, collapsible description, which 
 made it more amusing, and in no way prevented 
 them from finishing the bottle. 
 
 Then the man came (the steward, Ida called 
 him), and made the beds, and Uncle Charles de- 
 parted to the den where the oriental traveller was 
 already rolled up and snoring. Ere long Ida had 
 clambered into the upper berth, while Nellie 
 occupied the lower, and both talked excitedly 
 until they sank into a sleep of ratlier a wobbly 
 nature. 
 
 By the time Nellie was dreaming a delightful 
 confusion of nonsense, to which ber early and 
 recent experiences and the motion of the train 
 all vaguely contributed, and the dawn-light was 
 whitening the bedewed window, she was awaked 
 by a knock at the door, to which instinct made her 
 reply : 
 
 '' Come in ! ^^ • 
 
 The knocker, however, did not come in, but 
 went on knocking, and said in an imperative but 
 polite masculine totie : 
 
184 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " Aufstehen ! "* 
 
 By this time Ida had come to a dim con- 
 sciousness also, and said : 
 
 '' Oh, go away ! '* 
 
 Nellie said : 
 
 *' Oh, Ida, what is it ? An accident, or what ? 
 I can't understand what he says." 
 
 Then the two girls got up, put on ulsters and 
 slippers, opened the door, and beheld a tall young 
 man, with very square shoulders, in a green 
 uniform, with a flat cap and a sword, who gravely 
 saluted the two dishevelled beauties, and ob- 
 served : 
 
 ^^ Bedaure sehr. Haben Sie was steuer-bares ? 
 Gepack-revision. Deutsch-Avricourt ! " 
 
 " Oh ! '' exclaimed Ida, smiling, " it's only the 
 Custom House. I forget that. Nein ! " And she 
 shook her head solemnly several times, and 
 *' courted inquiry" of the open travelling-bags, 
 in pantomime. The tall young man was not to be 
 diverted by beauty from duty, and he did examine 
 those bags with great minuteness. 
 
 "Then we have crossed the frontier?" said 
 Nellie. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 185 
 
 '' Yes. And you see it has woke you up after all." 
 
 The tall youDg man made chalk marks, saluted 
 with white gloves^ and withdrew. The two girls 
 got into bed again. 
 
 " Funny, wasn't it ? '^ said Ida. " I don't know 
 that it is quite proper to let such superior young 
 men come and examine our things in this domestic 
 sort of way. He was rather good-looking, too, 
 wasn^t he ? '^ 
 
 ''Well, I thought so, but I was too startled 
 to take much notice.'^ 
 
 "Ah, I wasn't." 
 
 '' How funnily things are happening, aren't 
 they ? So we are in Germany now ! " The train 
 began to roll out of Deutsch-Avricourt station. 
 
 " Yes. And it is nearly broad daylight. Hardly 
 worth while to go to bed again. Let's do our 
 toilet and then have a look at the country." And 
 they dressed and put on their ulsters, and went 
 along the passage, and staggered over the joining 
 bridge between the sleeping car and the saloon, 
 and Nellie caught her first glimpse of the fir- 
 covered hillsides of Alsace, mist-clad, still, and 
 beautiful, with wide brown streams wandering 
 
18t> ^A" UNFOBTUNATE ABBANGEMEXT. 
 
 along the valleys, and little villages witti their 
 blue smoke- streaks rising in the calm air, in which 
 was yet the shivering chill of dawn. They sat 
 in the little saloon which adjoined the restaurant, 
 put up the collars of their ulsters, and looked 
 out of the window. 
 
 " Do I look as dishevelled as you do, I 
 wonder ? *' said Ida. 
 
 " Oh, I expect so. You can't do your hair 
 when it shakes so. But that doesn't matter. 
 There's no one to look at us.'' 
 
 '^ No ; that's a mercy, for I do not show to 
 advantage at dawn under any circumstances, much 
 less after sleeping in a train. I wonder if we 
 made a very comic impression on the young man 
 in the green coat with long skirts. Did you notice 
 how well his trousers were made ? " 
 
 '*' They fitted very well. Have you got a 
 button-hook ? " 
 
 "No, not here. Why?" 
 
 '' Oh, I was in such a state of bewilderment 
 and hurry to see a new country, that I did not 
 do up my boots ; I thought there would be plenty 
 of time before any one was up." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 187 
 
 tc 
 
 Oh yes, of course. Here, take one of these 
 hair-pins. They're extra strong.^ ^ 
 
 " Thanks so much. I suppose no one is likely 
 to come in here ? " 
 
 " Oh no, not now. It's all right." 
 
 '' Well, I'll complete the operation then. Tell 
 me if there is anything particular to look at.^' And 
 Nellie stooped and struggled with the hair-pin. 
 
 " All right. Here^s a village, exactly like a 
 toy village. Let us call it Dollhausen or Toyberg. 
 I say, Nell." 
 
 '' Yes ? " 
 
 '^ How far did things really go with Mr. 
 Stanton ? " 
 
 Nellie looked about as foolish as a very charm- 
 ing but rather shy girl can look, and said : " I 
 don't know what you mean. They didn't go far 
 at all. I wish people didnH jump at conclusions 
 so easily. Why, he only talked to me once or 
 twice. It's all nonsense.'^ 
 
 " I am glad of it. You remove a weight from 
 my mind.'' 
 
 '^ Do I ? What weight ? " 
 
 " Well, when I have so many attractive young 
 
188 AN VNFOUTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 men, for all you know of, waiting an opportunity 
 to appreciate you in different parts of the world, 
 I don't want you to waste any serious sentiments 
 on such a conceited beast as Mr. Harold Ellis 
 Stanton.'* 
 
 ^' Oh, how can you call him a beast ? He's 
 very nice indeed.^' 
 
 " I thought you didn't care about him at all, 
 and it was all nonsense." 
 
 "Well, so it is. At least, not the way you 
 mean, and here's the hair-pin, thanks.'' 
 
 " My dearest child, if you use many sentences 
 as lucid as that at this hour of the morning and 
 on an empty stomach, you'll get softening of the 
 brain. You see you are young and inexperienced, 
 and it's my business to take care of you, and not 
 let you flirt with wrong 'uns, as Charlie says. 
 You may go in for just as much romance as ever 
 you like, and I'll back you up, and be useful in 
 diverting attention and so on ; but do please 
 let it be somebody better than that wretched 
 creature." 
 
 '^^ Oh, Ida! 1' never flirted in all my life — I 
 don't even know how. I should think it wroncf." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 189 
 
 ^'Bat you innocent creatures, who don^t even 
 know when you are doing it, are just the ones. 
 Ah, well, never mind, I'll find a tall lieutenant or 
 two to give you the information on the proper use 
 of der, die, das.'' 
 
 ''But what is the matter with Mr. Stanton? 
 You seem to dislike him very much/^ 
 
 " Oh, he annoys me. He is so superior and 
 selfish, and always seems to think one a fool, and 
 doesn't take much trouble to disguise his opinion. 
 Besides, he's got just enough to keep himself in 
 luxury, and is not the least likely to want to divide 
 it by two." 
 
 " Perhaps you are a little prejudiced." 
 
 "Perhaps I am. Never mind, let's think no 
 more about it. I won't tease you any more if I 
 can help it. I'm very hungry." 
 
 '' So am I. When do we arrive ? Soon I hope. 
 It's pretty about here, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Yes, awfully." 
 
 " When we get to Strasbourg I must write a 
 long letter to mamma. I shall have a lot of 
 new things to describe then. I wrote last when 
 we were in Paris. Oh, there's a station and 
 
190 AlSf UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 a man in a spiked helmet^ just like tlie pictures 
 in the bound volumes of The Graphic we have 
 about the war. I was only about two or three 
 years old when the war was going on ; but I have a 
 recollection of hearing people talking about it, and 
 I have often gone through those (rrap/izcs, especially 
 on rainy Saturday afternoons in the study, while 
 papa was making up a sermon." 
 
 " Oh, well, you'll see lots more spiked helmets. 
 The German officers are very tine - looking, and 
 beautifully dressed." 
 
 " The French were smart, but they didn*t quite 
 give me the idea of being gentlemen somehow. '^ 
 
 '' It's very different here, as you will find. Oh, 
 Nell, I'd give anything for some bread and butter, 
 and a pint of that champagne we had last night. 
 Wouldn't you?" 
 
 " Can't we get something ? Let's look." 
 
 '' Clever girl ! Come along." And they found 
 a sleepy waiter in the restaurant, and when Uncle 
 Charles came yawning in to say that Strasbourg 
 was half an hour off, and you could see the spire, 
 he found two girls in ulsters, with untidy hair, and 
 merry faces, on which the morning shone, chattering 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGE MJS NT. 191 
 
 and laughing over rolls and butter* and a pint 
 of cliampagne. 
 
 " Well ! I am surprised/^ said he, '^ any left ? 
 Barely a glass. Thanks. I say, Nellie, your father 
 wouldn't believe me if I gave him a sketch of 
 your get-up and occupation just now, would he ? 
 Ida will make you as frivolous as herself soon/' 
 And Uncle Charles laughed, and patted Nellie on 
 the back. " Poor girl," he thought, ^^ what a 
 holiday this must be to her ! Cold mutton and 
 rice pudding_, table beer and visiting the poor. 
 Oh, Lord ! " Afterwards he took occasion to say 
 privily to Ida : " I'm jolly glad you had the sense 
 to suggest taking that poor girl. She's a good, 
 quiet, pretty creature, and. deserves a good lark. 
 Deuced little fun at poor Arthur's place I expect." 
 
 *^It's funny to see the way she keenly enjoys 
 things of a frivolous and earthly kind, and is at 
 the same time afraid it's awfully wrong and that 
 some one is going to tell her she's naughty. You 
 know Auntie Potter is dreadfully pious, although 
 she's good and kind as far as she knows how. 
 I think Nellie will surprise the domestic circle 
 when she gets back to it." 
 
192 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 A few hours later all three were wandering 
 about Strasbourg, admiring street corners, and 
 riverside houses, and, above all, that wonderful, 
 slender, openwork red spire on which once a, 
 white flag hung forth. And when Nellie wrote 
 her letter, she gave an enthusiastic description 
 of the clock striking. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Alan McEwan was sitting at tlie end of a wooden 
 table under the trees in tlie garden of tlie Castle 
 at Heidelberg, with a tall glass of Heidelberg beer 
 before liim. It was a hot Sunday afternoon, and 
 every one was there under the trees ; ladies with 
 their knitting, and gossip, and coffee, children 
 with their cakes, corps-students with their dogs, 
 at their reserved tables whereon stood little 
 wooden badges with their colours — Sachsen - 
 horussen in white Stiirmer caps, Schwaheii in 
 canary - yellow flat caps, Westphalen in green 
 caps and so forth — young, stalwart, polite to 
 excess to rivals, jovial and familiar in their 
 own special circles. Two or three lieutenants iu 
 square - shouldered, tight - waisted undress frocks 
 discussed Deidesheimer and Affenthaler at a round 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
194 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 table by the glass-fronted restaurant, the fountain 
 sprinkled pleasantly, various people in twos and 
 threes came and went in the neighbouring shaded 
 pathways, and every one looked healthy and 
 placidly happy, while the band, under the leader- 
 ship of good Herr Direktor Eosenkranz, played 
 Kilnstler - Lehen right well and merrily. And 
 McEwan scribbled verses on the back of his music 
 programme. He, too, looked healthier and happier 
 than when we saw him in Harold Stanton's 
 chambers, struggling scornfully against the ethical 
 philosophy of that gentleman. He looked at the 
 people who sat round him, pulled a little at a 
 German cigar in a wooden holder, sipped at his 
 Halbe, seemed to derive inspiration from the scene 
 and the music, and wrote something of this sort, 
 with an old soft deer-stalker hat on the back of his 
 head, and his feet stretched out and crossed at leg's 
 length under the table : 
 
 There stands a city by the rushing Neckar 
 
 Where youth and joy and love make speed the wild- 
 winged hours, 
 Five hundred years of well-won honours deck her, 
 
 And fragrant memories of wine and bygone summer's 
 flowers. 
 
, AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 195 
 
 There stands upon the green hillside above her, 
 A warworn outpost watching ever toward the west 
 
 And north, whose wounds still speak to hearts that love her 
 Through all the summer splendour of the fertile Pfalz at 
 rest. 
 
 At last the long and weary watch is ended, 
 
 And jealous hands no more shall come from over Rhine, 
 And set revengeful torches to the splendid 
 
 Red palace of the Pfalz-graf where Perkeo guards the 
 wine. 
 
 '^ There, I don't know^ but I should think I 
 might work that on to a tune of some sort. Pity 
 if there isn't one in the Kommershuch to suit every 
 conceivable metre. I should like to make a song 
 about that girl I saw in London on those stairs, 
 but it is difficult to find any particular point to 
 hang it on to. I don't know anything in the very 
 least about her, and she may be a perfect fool — 
 probably is. Might write a song to show the con- 
 nection between absolute justice and evolution, on 
 the non-intervention system. Or on beer, and call 
 it the ' Not-Oarselves making for biliousness.* 
 Ah well, it's a jolly day, I'll do nothing, and listen 
 to the band, and then I'll bathe." And he put his 
 hat down on the table, put his pencil in his pocket, 
 turned the programme the other way up, and 
 
 o 2 
 
196 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 leaned back in his chair. Shortly there came and 
 sat at the same table another person, a middle-aged 
 gentleman with a clerical blackness and whiteness 
 about his costume, a soft black hat and a long 
 iron-gray beard. He had brilliant dark eyes and 
 prominent arched eyebrows of shaggy iron-gray 
 hair^ rather high cheekbones and a long aquiline 
 nose. His face was thin and his body seemed bony 
 and lank, and he was not unlike the pictures one 
 sees of Don Quixote. 
 
 He said to the waiter with a calm disregard of 
 language : " Oh aye — would you bring me a glass 
 of beer ? ^' The last words were sufficiently like 
 the waiter's native tongue to get what was wanted, 
 and when it came he said '^ Thank ye '' in the same 
 matter of course tone, and studied his programme. 
 In the course of time he produced a blackened 
 wooden pipe with a large bowl and proceeded to 
 load and smoke it, and tasted his beer and seemed 
 content with his situation. When the time arrived 
 for paying the waiter, a difficulty arose, for not 
 being conversant with the German language as 
 spoken in the Pfalz, only as written by the 
 philosophers, he could not be got to understand 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AERANGEMENT. 197 
 
 what the exact change out of a thaler would be for 
 a Halbe of beer costing eighteen pfennigs or some- 
 thing of that sort. So Alan McEwan interfered, 
 and explained both to the guest and to the waiter, 
 in their several tongues. The stranger said_, 
 *^ Thank you. I'm much obliged. It seems a 
 pleasant place this ! '^ 
 
 '^ Oh very. I like it myself wonderfully. Is 
 this your first v^isit to Heidelberg ? " 
 
 " Yes. I arrived here from Mainz yesterday 
 night. It's not often I have a chance of a holiday 
 abroad, and I am enjoying myself just for a while, 
 d'ye see ? '' 
 
 ^' Oh yes. Do you know, I think we are 
 countrymen." 
 
 "Oh, indeed! Are you from Scotland?'' 
 
 " Yes. I was born and brought up there. I live 
 in London now, for my sins, and for the reason 
 that brings so many Scotsmen to London, according 
 to the English view. My name's McEvvan." 
 
 "Dear me, now ! Do you know Edinburgh ?" 
 
 " Do I not, sir ? I have supped on spuds in 
 a Canongate cellar many a time. I was a student 
 in Edinburgh ten or more sorrowful years ago." 
 
198 AN UNFORTUNATE AliRANGEMENT. 
 
 "Now, that^s odd that I should meet you 
 here, Mr. McEwan. I'm a minister in Leith, and 
 my name is Struthers. I'm just taking my holiday, 
 as I was telling you. Now, you'd be studying 
 philosophy here, maybe, or the like of that ? " 
 
 " I am, after a fashion, but in an unofficial 
 way. I was a student here, too, some time ago ; 
 and I go and get cheered up by Kuno-Fischer 
 now and then still ; but I am really idling, and, 
 I fear, enjoying it. I got a sad bee in my bonnet 
 once that I was a poet, and I have it still at 
 times, in spite of some years of London ; and 
 what I wanted to come back to Heidelberg for 
 was to find the rest of mind and health of body 
 that exists not in a place where every one is 
 hurrying and struggling after gold and pleasure. 
 After the ugly, monotonous, roaring streets, and 
 the swarm of frowsy people in smoke-coloured 
 raiment, and the Underground Railway, and the 
 yell of the 'busman and newsboy, and the fog, 
 and dirt, and din, and sin in that four-mile radius, 
 you feel that this valley, and river, and town, and 
 Schloss are very Paradise." 
 
 " I can suppose that. London is a great 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABIiANGEMENT. 199 
 
 city ; but I fear, with all its progress, and enter- 
 prise, and wealth, and fashion, it is ruled by a 
 very old triumvirate which it is my business to 
 fight against in my poor way, and that is the 
 World, the Flesh, and the Devil." 
 
 '' I am in that war, too, Mr. Struthers, if you 
 will recognise an irregular of a totally different 
 regiment. But I think I am on your side, if I 
 judge you right.^^ 
 
 ^^Fm very glad to hear it. We cannot be 
 all alike, and it would be but a dreary and un- 
 desirable world if we were. Maybe you'll be Free, 
 or Episcopalian ? " 
 
 " My dear sir, it is many years ago since I 
 darkened the doors of any kirk whatever. I 
 may have thoughts that you might think profane. 
 I have led a life that has not been very wis© or 
 very useful, and it has given me experience, and 
 sorrow, and much food for thought. But I fancy 
 we have common sympathies on certain topics, 
 though cast in different formulas." 
 
 Dr. Struthers gazed eagerly into the sad, sallow 
 face of Alan McEwan, and said, tapping the table 
 emphatically with one hand and grasping his beer- 
 
200 AN UNFORTUNATE AREANGEMENT. 
 
 mug with the other : " ' Seek first the KiDgdom 
 of God and His righteousness/ Do you sympathise 
 with that ? " 
 
 ^' I want to. I have done much seeking of 
 that sort; but it is the finding that is the hard 
 matter/' 
 
 *^ Maybe you trust too much in your own 
 strength ? " 
 
 ^' On the contrary ; I have endeavoured to 
 utilise all the advice and all the works bearing 
 on the subject^ and find I am driven to make 
 out mostly for myself after all. I have been 
 wandering lately in the wilds of philosophy as 
 understood (occasionally at least), in this country. 
 I have been trying to get a justification for the 
 notion that the universe, and life, and thiugs at 
 large are the concrete realisation of a Divine 
 idea.'' 
 
 " Is that not just a German philosopher's way 
 of saying that God made the world ? " 
 
 " It does sound rather like it at first. It 
 seems to be the kind of thiug we are all hunting 
 after, by one route or another. No doubt it 
 would be an immense satisfaction to be able to 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 201 
 
 suppose that tlie world had some sort of responsi- 
 bility at the back of it, were it only that our 
 grumblings about the weather might not be so 
 entirely thrown away on a wretched set of senseless 
 anticyclones and circular depressions. But, to 
 come back to the point, my philosopher's Divine 
 idea, co-existing with and enlivening the world, 
 is not quite the same as your External Power in 
 this respect. You say things are, therefore they 
 once were not ; therefore some one made them, 
 or words to that effect, don't you ? " 
 
 *' I do say that, by our experience, we expect 
 an effect to have a cause ; and experience is a 
 form of testimony you philosophers are fond of 
 relying on. That is not all I say, but I do say 
 that.'' 
 
 " Ay, you would ? Now, don't you think that 
 in using the word ^ effect ' as a name for things 
 at large, you are pre-asserting the question ? 
 Because effect means just something produced by 
 a cause, and nothing else. Therefore your pro- 
 position takes this form, on substituting the 
 equivalent terms : ' By our experience, we expect 
 that which is produced by a cause to be pro- 
 
202 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 duced by a cause/ wLich is not quite what you 
 meant, is it? Again, we have only experience 
 of cause and effect as changes in the place or 
 condition of matter ; not of the bringing of some- 
 thing into existence for which there were no 
 raw materials previously to hand. So the German 
 philosopher is going to try and be of use to 
 you in his way, if you will let him, by trying 
 to find an idea he can justify." 
 
 ''My lad, ye've got a head, I see, and ye've 
 got a tongue. Let's hear now further, before I 
 kittle up my own notions." 
 
 Alan McEwan and Dr. Struthers were both 
 in high spirits now, and drank their beer, and 
 shifted and tightened their sword-belts, so to 
 speak, previous to setting to a good, hard, long 
 argument, with plenty of long words in it, such 
 as each in his own way revelled in. And the 
 band played the JJlanen-'Ritt. 
 
 " Observe," said McEwan, ^' I am not desirous 
 to be a destroyer, but rather a builder up. As 
 I said, I am on your side in my own guerilla way. 
 Now what are the points about existence which 
 strike us most, as we look at the whole universe. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 203 
 
 from the double nebulae to stock-brokers ? I 
 should say, symmetry, unity, and intelligibility 
 in the first place, to wbicli I may add beauty. 
 When I say unity, I mean identity of nature and 
 substance amid diversity of form. The same law 
 reigns in the orbital eccentricities of the planets 
 as in the infant's multiplication table, or the falling 
 autumn lea^f. There is no Home Kule anywhere 
 in the physical universe. The same chemical 
 elements are to be seen in fixed stars as in 
 terrestrial wash-tubs. As for symmetry, you know 
 that many of the exactitudes of nature are beyond 
 the reach of the most delicate instrument we 
 have — except one, the mathematical imagination. 
 Good, then things at large are symmetrical, 
 intelligible, and on the whole, beautiful. Now 
 let us come to the more directly human part of 
 the matter. It is the possession of a mind which 
 is the distinguishing peculiarity of man, or sup- 
 posed to be. That mind is the name we give 
 to certain qualities we have, certain perceptions, 
 which are quite correlative to the not-human 
 world outside and its qualities. For example, 
 nature is intelligible, man is intelligent. Nature 
 
204 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 is symmetrical and exacts man is mathematical 
 and curious after knowledge. Nature is beautiful 
 and amazing. Man has senses and imagination. 
 Think how awful life would be to us if the 
 physical processes of gravitation and motion were 
 inexact, unpunctual, and capricious, like, say, certain 
 railway systems_, and how maddening it would be 
 to a reasonable mind to contemplate an unreason- 
 able world ! Such a reductio ad insanum will show 
 in a moment the immense rightness of things as 
 they are, and the awful wrongness of things as 
 they might be supposed to be in a world where 
 suns stuck suddenly still like skidded wheels, 
 and mahogany tables prophesied of things to 
 come in shaky English translated from raps ! '^ 
 
 '^^ Well, admitting your qualification of man and 
 the world he lives in, what is your deduction ? " 
 
 " First of all that these omnipresent character- 
 istics of actual matter, all desirable and beautiful 
 in themselves, are conceivable to our reason, as 
 the characteristics of mind as well — of our minds 
 in a partial and variable degree, of a perfect mind 
 in the same complete way as they are of the 
 universe. To the objector who would say that 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 205 
 
 we do not know anything of mind at all except 
 as existing in connection with matter, or in 
 correlation with it^ I reply that that is just what 
 I want, just what I am trying to get at, mind 
 in correlation with matter. I want to show that 
 mind is not a mere casual by-product of chemistry, 
 any more than a mere ghost condescending to 
 inhabit a natural envelope for a probationary 
 period ; but a thing eternally necessary, as matter 
 itself is, to the existence of a universe at all. 
 Now you will be asking how all this is to 
 bear on human notions of righteousness. We 
 have at present only got as far as intelligibility 
 and symmetry. Let us consider the justice of 
 things now. What we have to do is to reconcile 
 the righteousness of God with a scientifically 
 conceived non-miraculous world." 
 
 " That is a large undertaking. But before 
 ye go on to that part of the subject, let me just 
 put in a plain wurrd. Have ye not forgotten 
 one thing, in your qualifications of the world 
 external to man, its immense adaptability, or 
 adaptation rather, to the requirements of man ? 
 The light for his eyes, the bread for his stomach. 
 
206 AN UNFORTUNATE AEEANGEMENT. 
 
 tlie flax and wool for his garments, tlie coal to 
 warm Lim and to drive his engines, the electricity 
 to carry his messages, the horse for him to ride, 
 which Professor Owen admits seems absolutely 
 constructed for no other purpose ? '^ 
 
 "Ah yes. I might have thought of that. 
 But now we are at it, let me tell you a little 
 parable. Once upon a time there lived a com- 
 munity of beetles in a nice large kitchen, and 
 they agreed that it was very benevolent and far- 
 seeing of the master and builder of the house to have 
 the fire banked up with ashes at night to keep 
 them warm (for, said they, there is no other pur- 
 pose "Conceivable for keeping it burning at night 
 except for our benefit), also to have pots of jam 
 on accessible shelves for them to eat, and basins 
 of brown sugar for the same purpose; so they 
 came to the conclusion that it was their duty 
 to increase, and multiply, and replenish the kitchen, 
 and subdue it, and they did ; and then the master 
 of the house became aware of it, and set beetle- 
 traps, which upset their theories for a time, until 
 they decided that they were a moral discipline, 
 and a trial of their faith, and existed in reality 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 207 
 
 for their welfare in the highest and truest sense, 
 as well as for the greater glory of the master. 
 And they applied the same theory to beetle-poison. 
 Now there are certain conditions in nature, the 
 non-conformity to which leads to misfortune, or 
 what is generally called evil, and the question 
 naturally arises, where is the justice in suffering, 
 and how can its presence be defended at all ? " 
 
 " I'd be glad to hear your answer to that. 
 My own experience is that people mostly deserve 
 it richly, and that it does Ihem good." 
 
 "Very likely. But there is an inexactitude 
 about that * mostly.' Justice can't afford to be 
 unjust occasionally, by way of a relaxation. If 
 suffering is to be a moral retribution of conduct, 
 it must in the first place be so invariably and 
 in due proportion to the acts a person does of his 
 own accord, and in the second place it must be 
 still a consequence of those natural processes of 
 cause and effect which we are not, I understand, 
 supposing any irregular and occasional interference 
 with. That involves the assumption that physical 
 occurrences and human conduct must have been all 
 pre-arranged to suit one another, in a moral ratio." 
 
208 AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 
 
 "Well, and why would they not ? " 
 
 " Perhaps they were. But in that case the 
 human actions must have been pre-ordained just 
 as much as the earthquakes, snake-bites, railway 
 accidents, and murders ; and it is hardly our 
 notion of justice to punish a person for what you 
 have already made it inevitable (by hypothesis) 
 that he should do. And if our notion of justice is 
 not consistent with universal justice, it is no use 
 our trying to form any idea of the latter at all, for 
 we have no standard to go by. Just think for a 
 moment, in detail, what is involved. A train goes 
 off the line, and the passengers are injured. It is 
 subsequently found that an axle broke, owing to 
 a flaw in the metal. That metal was in the ore 
 underground once, and had not the flaw in it 
 then. It came by the carelessness of a work- 
 man, or by accident. But that flaw was never- 
 theless to travel to and fro in the axle of that 
 waggon until the right set of people got in, and 
 then give way, and that in perfect consistence with 
 the mathematical laws of strains, and pressures, 
 and friction, and the lave. But leaving all that on 
 one side, it is a matter of common experience that 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 209 
 
 people's good and bad fortunes bear scarce any pro- 
 portion whatever to their moral deserts ; that the rain 
 falls impartially, as did the tower of Siloam, and 
 moral excellence itself is a thing which there is 
 no general consensus about. The same thing or 
 person is called right by some and wrong by 
 others ; and half our virtues are simply canonised 
 customs, originally dictated by necessity, in the 
 great competitive exam. Nature is perpetually 
 holding/^ 
 
 '^ But this justice of yours : as you reject it in 
 so much, where do you propose to get it in at all? " 
 
 '^ Well, I find it difiicult to put my thought in 
 words ; but I imagine it to consist in the impar- 
 tial carrying out of those laws which we both 
 agree in admiring, while injustice would consist in 
 the occasional interference with them in or against 
 any given private, local, or temporary interest. If 
 this be not so, as Euclid says, it must be other- 
 wise. Let it be otherwise — that is to say ^' 
 
 "Man, man, hold on a minute. Let us think. 
 Do you realise what is logically implied in that 
 proposition ? Do you not see that it attacks the 
 groundwork of all religions and all revelations ? '' 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
210 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " The main point is, is it a reasonable theory ? 
 The only religions it interferes with are those 
 which require their adherents to think occasional 
 interference with the natural course of things essen- 
 tial. And that, observe_, is no compliment to the 
 natural order of things. See what a poor thing 
 you would make of the law of nature, if it has to 
 be suspended or contradicted every now and then, 
 in order that justice may be carried out ! '* 
 
 "I fear there is little in this calculated to 
 comfort sorrowful men or to turn sinners from 
 their courses." 
 
 '' I think we might find even that provided for. 
 Be a man ever such a believer, be he even the 
 founder himself of a religion, sorrow will not fail 
 to find him ; and as for sin — well, I would be glad 
 to talk with you further on these matters, but I 
 have talked over-much already, and it is getting 
 near time for 'Abendbrod.' Are you staying here 
 long, Mr. Struthers ? " 
 
 *' Well, I'm not very sure. I'm waiting for a 
 niece of mine who is coming with some relatives 
 from Paris, by w\ay of Strassburg. As you live in 
 London, Mr. McEwan, you may have heard of one 
 Potter — Charles Potter — a Royal Academician ? '* 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 211 
 
 " Oh, ay ; I have been at his house. Lives out 
 Kensington way, near Earl's Court ? " 
 
 " Just there. Now he is also the uncle of this 
 young leddy, and he has a daughter, as you know, 
 no doubt, and they are all three doing a grand 
 tour, and I am expecting to meet them here, 
 though when they come will depend upon the time 
 they stay at Strassburg, which, I believe, is a very 
 grand town for seein'." Alan's thoughts reverted 
 suddenly to a London restaurant, with glowing 
 electric lamps and glittering marble stairs, and he 
 wondered if this should be the very girl. And the 
 idea made his heart warm towards the kindly 
 minister who had borne so patiently a defence 
 of religion which so very much resembled other 
 people's attacks on it. And he said : '' Mr. 
 Struthers, it may be that I have spoken on certain 
 matters with a freedom which was unintentionally 
 offensive, and I regret it ; but I am so much 
 accustomed lately to people who discuss or treat 
 sublimest ideas with the same frosty but not un- 
 kindly impartiality with which others treat the 
 higher aldehydes or the * Differeuzirung ' of epi- 
 thelium cells, that it seemed natural to treat the 
 matter in an unemotional way. But I would be 
 
 p 2 
 
212 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 ill content that you should suppose that I have no 
 feeling in the question except a yearning for arid 
 fact-hunting, and I fear I am rather verbose." 
 
 " My dear sir, you are an honest man, who 
 mean what you say, I doubt not ; and you have 
 gifts of knowledge and perception, which, I pre- 
 sume, are meant to be made use of. If, as you say, 
 you are really seeking the Kingdom of God and 
 His righteousness, I make no doubt that you will 
 find it." 
 
 '' Though at present the sojourn in the Wilder- 
 ness of Sin precedes the entry to the premised 
 land ? " 
 
 '^ Just that. I will take an opportunity of 
 talking to you again about all this, but I must 
 think things over a bit. You have given me food 
 for thought, especially in your justification of 
 evil." 
 
 " On the non-intervention principle ? " 
 
 "Ay. In the meantime, as you say, it is 
 getting time to take some supper." 
 
 " Would you like a bit of a walk first ? For, if 
 so, I can take you to a pleasant place, though 
 humble, where I generally sup, and you will have 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 213 
 
 a very pretty outlook on the river. That is, if I 
 may thrust my company on you to that extent." 
 
 "Fll be dehghted. It's refreshing to hear a 
 good Scots tongue among these unknown ones." 
 And they set forth from among the little crowd 
 seated in the Garten-wirtlischaftj past the old 
 gateway to the castle, where the water trickled 
 gently through the ivy-leaves far below as you 
 looked over the bridge, under the tall trees with 
 botanical labels on them, and out at the old pink 
 stone gateway, where a green - capped guide 
 lounged apparently in very easy circumstances, and 
 not over-anxious to give his services to any one ; 
 while Herr Eosenkranz's band was still faintly 
 audible through the trees behind, and the evening 
 sun shone on the town roofs in front and below, 
 and on the dim, wide, distant plain, where an 
 occasional piece of the winding Neckar glinted 
 among the level fields and clustering dark red 
 villages, and a thin white streak of smoke moved 
 slowly along from the direction of the barely- visible 
 mountains on the western horizon, betokening a 
 train bringing Nellie and Ida and their uncle to 
 '* Alt Heidelberg, die feine." 
 
214 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 As Alan McEvvan and Dr. Strutliers stood for a 
 moment looking at all this, the latter said, glancing 
 at the great wall which supports the western 
 garden (where the Elizabethsthor is) : 
 
 " It's a grand castle, yon ! " 
 
 *' And a beautiful town and valley. Don't you 
 think it is as beautiful as Auld Reekie ? That's 
 the only place I can compare it to." 
 
 Alan led the way down the steep steps known 
 as the Kurzer Buckel, and he and Dr. Struthers 
 went through the town and crossed the old bridge, 
 where they paused and stood, as many have |tood, 
 to watch the evening sunshine colouring the Neckar 
 where the valley widened and became a plain, and 
 to look at the dear, cosy, old brown-roofed town 
 still quivering with heat, while the breeze began to 
 be felt from the river valley eastward behind them, 
 and the river rushed through the arches below 
 them. The red stone parapet was worn with the 
 many arms that have leaned to look over it, and 
 found solace in lingering to bathe their senses in 
 the beauty of Heidelberg, in the stately grandeur of 
 the sunlit daytime, in the tender and mysterious 
 afterglow when the lights are springing up, and 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 215 
 
 music is vague in tlie air, and the vineyards are 
 growing gray and purple on the slope o£ the 
 Heiligenberg, while the pines of the opposite hills 
 are sharply black against the pale glow of a moon- 
 light yet to be, in the clear white glitter of frozen 
 February, or in the deep July night in the solitude 
 of blazing planets. Poets have stood on that 
 quaint old high-backed bridge; and, above all, 
 Heidelberg's own poet who loved her and sang of 
 her so well, and of her gallant and gentle scholar 
 who sold his corpus juris and bought a trumpet, 
 and disturbed the peace of the " Pfalzgrafin 
 schonste den Frauen," and then wandered away with 
 the trumpet to his lips, and love in his heart, and 
 bewitched the knight's daughter, the poet who died 
 before he could hear his last swan-song sung by 
 five thousand old and young sons of the Muses 
 assembled to do honour to the fifth secular birth- 
 day of the old university where they had spent 
 their most joyous days, generation pledging 
 generation in the great Festhalle. Lovers have 
 stayed there, and the beautiful valley has become 
 a sweet and sacred dream to each of them in 
 later, busier, baser days, when they have parted 
 
216 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 for ever in the drift and division of life ; and if, 
 perchance, one of them comes back some day for 
 old times' sake, as come back he surely will, who 
 has once felt the witchery of love in the Neckarthal, 
 he goes again to stand on that old stone bridge, 
 and his struggling ambitions and busy pursuits of 
 to-day vanish and go very far off, and an in- 
 describable sweet sorrow takes their place, and his 
 heart is that of a young lover again, and the old 
 worshipful chivalrous admiration displaces the 
 faithless frivolity or sneering mistrust and con- 
 tempt with which he has become encrusted in the 
 wilderness of worldliness where men deceive women, 
 and women ensnare men, and both sell their souls 
 and bodies for money. 
 
 "It's a good place, isn't it?'' said Alan, as 
 they walked on. 
 
 '^ It is very beautiful." And neither of them 
 spoke very much as they walked along the river- 
 side, under the high sloping walls over which 
 creepers from gardens above trailed down. 
 
 They passed occasionally a group of white- 
 headed little boys who reminded them both of 
 Scotland, and a carriage taking people for au 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 217 
 
 eveniDg drive to Ziegelhausen, drawn by a pair or 
 lazy, fat horses, and jovial, brown-faced Heidel- 
 berg Kutscher cracking a loud whip and saying 
 " b-r-r-r ! ^' with great majesty. The walk ended 
 at the ** Schiff " in Neuenheim, where they took 
 their seats at a table in a green arbour over- 
 hanging the. riverside, and commanding a view 
 across. The lamps were already alight in the 
 garden, and a few people, " just burgher bodies,^^ 
 as Dr. Struthers observed, were scattered about. 
 A table near them was surrounded by some dozen 
 students, amid whose lively chatter the frequent 
 "Pros't!'' '^Nach!" and ^'Auf Spezielle ! " might 
 be heard. 
 
 *' Now good Herr Hess, the landlord here, is an 
 old friend of mine, and I can depend on him to 
 do his best, after his fashion, to give us a good 
 supper. Moreover, I can assure you that the best 
 beer in the place is to be found here. There is 
 none better in the Neckarthal. Are you pretty 
 hungry ? '' 
 
 "Indeed I am." p 
 
 " Good. I will go and forage." And Alan 
 went into the tavern, and soon came out, followed 
 
218 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 by a damsel bearing two huge glass jugs, cask- 
 sliaped_, of an amber-coloured ale which glittered 
 and sparkled in the light, and several very thick 
 white plates, and thicker lumps of black bread. 
 Alan sat down and poured his quantum of beer 
 down a capacious and thirsty throat. '' Ha ! That 
 does good. Here's t' ye ! " 
 
 " Here's t' ye ! " said the Quixote-faced minister, 
 and took a more modest draught. 
 
 "It^s very good of you, Mr. McEwan, to take 
 the compassion you have on a stranger in a strange 
 land, and I feel bound to say so.^' 
 
 "Not at all. I am but too delighted to hear 
 the bonnie Scots tongue, more especially when 
 it talks of such high matters as yours has, though I 
 fear the talking was mostly on my side. Besides, 
 given two Scotchmen iu a strange land, gravita- 
 tion's just a joke to the force that will bring them 
 together. Shouther to shouther all the world 
 over!" And Alan's sombre eyes gleamed and 
 grew large, and his melancholy, " Puritan soldier's" 
 face grew triumphant as he said it. 
 
 In the course of time they finished a large dish of 
 ham and poached eggs, and followed it with cold 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 219 
 
 beef and salad. Then tlie glass casks were re- 
 plenished, and Alan said : 
 
 '' I beg your pardon, Mr. Strutbers, for for- 
 getting before, but will you say grace ? " Dr. 
 Strutbers was touched at this, and looked kindly 
 and sadly at the younger man, stood up, and said : 
 
 " Lord, bless our meat to our use, and us to Thy 
 service.'^ Then they lit their tobacco, and looked 
 at the western sky, now crimson-streaked, with 
 pale green between. 
 
 At this moment Nellie and Ida were gazing 
 at the same sky from their bedroom in the " Hotel 
 de PEurope," after scattering bags, and wraps, 
 and sponges, and brushes about the room, and 
 changing their dusty dresses, and Nellie was 
 saying : '^ I think this looks as if it would be 
 the best place we've come to yet." 
 
 " It is very pretty. I say, look down instead 
 of up. Look at that officer going along under 
 those trees. I've seen him pass twice ; don't you 
 think he's awfully good-looking ? " 
 
 "He's very tall, certainly. I can't see his 
 face. I like these uniforms much better than the 
 French." 
 
220 AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 
 
 " Oh, there's no comparison. Look what 
 splendid men these are ! And such fine, sunburnt 
 skins, too. Oh ! he's coming back again. I 
 believe he has noticed us/' At this Nellie 
 promptly drew her head in. Ida did not. 
 
 At this moment Harold Stanton was giving 
 a Grenadine and the benefit of his conversation 
 to a young woman in the fore-court of the Folies 
 Bergeres because she resembled Nellie somewhat 
 in feature. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Alan McEwan lodged in an upper room at the 
 *' Gasthaus und Altdeutsclie Weinstube zur Weisse 
 Rose/* whicli is at a corner of the kind of square 
 where the great Church of the Holy Ghost is^ with 
 its market stalls round it like the Krames (which 
 were a parasitic growth between the buttresses 
 of St. Giles's in the days of the Luckenbooths), 
 where also the stately front of the red-stone 
 Ritter, with its gilt inscriptions, stands in 
 solitary and monumental dignity ; from whose 
 round-arched windows men of war have watched 
 the burning town, wine-cup in hand, 
 
 Splent on spaul and spur on heel, 
 
 two hundred years ago. 
 
 Alan chose the " Weisse Rose ^^ for an abode 
 at Heidelberg, for old acquaintance' sake, from 
 
222 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 economy, and because it was in the heart of 
 the town, and near the above-named monuments, 
 as well as the old bridge^ the bathing-place — 
 and the Bremeneck. What the Bremeneck was, 
 and its use, may appear further. 
 
 In the morning, when the mist was slowly 
 clearing, in the sunshine, from the castle; and 
 the fruit, vegetable, flower, and dairy produce 
 markets were nearly over; and the more industrious 
 of the students had got to the Academische Yiertel 
 of the second lecture of the day ; and the soldiers 
 had been for some time away at their rifle-range, 
 for the morning practice, and were busy popping 
 at a flat, wooden man ; in common time, about 
 eight o'clock, the amiable and smiling Anna 
 brought Alan his coffee and roll, and placed 
 them on a rush-bottomed chair by the bed-side, 
 saying, '' Merge, Herr Doctor ! " as she spilt coffee 
 freely from the cup into the saucer, and laughed 
 merrily at her own clumsiness. McEwan's name 
 being entirely beyond her pronunciation, she had 
 decided that he was to be called Herr Doctor, 
 as he seemed to associate to some extent with 
 the students, to know their habits, and yet to 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 223 
 
 be older tlian they; so she thought Herr Doctor 
 would be pretty safe. 
 
 " Morgen, Anna. Wie spat ist^s ? '^ 
 
 '^ Acht schon geschloage, Herr Doctor/' in the 
 dear old Pfalzisch sing-song, which reminded Alan 
 of the western accent of his native land. 
 
 '^Gibt'sBriefe?" 
 
 '^Doach! Ich bring sie gleich heruf, Herr 
 Doctor." And Anna departed, and Alan sat up in 
 bed and took his coffee and looked out at the open 
 window, which faced his bed and showed him the 
 dark red church walls, and the blue sky, and the 
 hills of the Neckar valley far away in the morning- 
 land over the housetops. Then he reached out a 
 long, lean arm and hand to the table and took a 
 cigar — not the heroic, priceless Manitoba of romance, 
 but the mild and inexpensive variety obtaining in 
 the Grand Duchy of Baden at, say, five shillings 
 per cent. — to smoke while he looked at the not 
 very interesting-looking letters Anna brought him, 
 that damsel standing and smiling in a purposeless 
 way, while he read them, unable to go away from 
 sheer tactlessness. Anna was not exactly pretty, 
 being of that robust, healthy type common among 
 
224 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 Annas, Lenas, Bertas, and Rosas, which is nearly 
 always a little too thick in the places which should 
 be thin, and round where it ought to be straight ; 
 but she thought herself very beautiful, and had no 
 doubt the Herr Doctor thought so too. She was 
 just like all the other Annas, just as the room was 
 just like all the other German rooms in inns, with a 
 brief wooden bedstead with high ends, sofa like a 
 kind of bath, oval table weak in the leg, on which 
 stood a china matchstaud, conical and ribbed, with 
 brimstone matches, and a thiu, white candle bowing 
 with fervent heat, tall and ornate tiled stove, 
 polished wooden floor, and a spittoon with white 
 sand and match-ends in it. 
 
 " Soil ich Ihna Vas hole, Herr Doctor ? A 
 Viertel Bier ? " 
 
 ^^ Ich danke. And do go away, my dear," 
 he added in English undertone. At last Anna 
 went, and Alan turned his back to the light 
 and went to sleep, and dreamed of the Scotch 
 minister, and what was called in the dream 
 the Elliptic Organisation of Fictions, which 
 seemed a grand scientific discovery at the time, 
 but was disappointingly idiotic when criticised 
 from a wakeful standpoint, an hour or so later. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 225 
 
 ^' Such, waste of time and energy, too," reflected 
 Alan, ''when I might just as well have dreamt 
 about that girl. No, not you," he added, as Anna 
 came in again with a Krug of water she flattered by 
 the epithet of hot. When she had gone, lie got up, 
 dressed, and walked out to the bathing-place, and 
 had a good, long, satisfactory immersion in the 
 Neckar, on which the sun was now shining with 
 much potency. It had been about ninety degrees 
 Falir. in the shade at .midday for some time past, 
 and clear blue sky and hot day succeeded clear 
 blue sky and hot day, and witli suchi regularity that 
 it was a mockery to talk about the weather — indeed, 
 no one did. 
 
 After bathing, Alan set off slowly, with a fresh 
 cigar, to walk along the riverside, in the direction 
 of the old bridge, with the further intention of 
 turning across the market and up the Apothekergasse 
 to the Bremeneck to liave a glass or two of beer, 
 and meet, perhaps, a friend sitting under the 
 friendly shade of its spreading chestnut-tree. 
 
 Under the shade of the tall row of trees by the 
 old stables which once belonged to the castle, and are 
 now turned to a Custom House, and a riding school, 
 and other not altogether bjise uses, ALin met Dr. 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT, 
 
 Struthers walking witli a sunburnt, stalwart gentle- 
 man, with a beard, a pipe, and a white umbrella 
 with a blue lining, whom he recognised as Mr. 
 Potter^ adapted for a tropical climate, and seeming 
 to be in a cheerful frame of mind. Alan shook 
 hands. 
 
 " Hullo, McEwan, what are you doing here ? 
 Spinning verses ? Capital place this, 'pen my word, 
 grand ! I've made up my mind to spend some 
 time here, and do sketches. ,It's jolly hot though. 
 Is this the regular weather, or is it one sample out 
 of many ? '' 
 
 " This is climate, Mr. Potter, not weather." 
 
 " Dr. Struthers here tells me you and he have 
 made acquaintance already." 
 
 " Yes," said Alan. 
 
 "Mr. McEwan was of some service to me while 
 struggling with an unknown tongue,'' said Dr. 
 Struthers. 
 
 '' Ah, of course ! I say, McEwan, you must 
 show us about here like a good fellow. I hear you 
 are quite at home in Germany, and know the 
 language. I'm adapting myself as hard as I can, 
 but I've got to get all the French polish off 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 227 
 
 first. The girls insisted on having a rest this 
 morning, so they stayed at home. We'll all go out 
 in the afternoon and see things. Come and lunch 
 with us, McEwan ? Struthers is coming, too. 
 We're staying at the * Europe.' " 
 
 '' Very good place, I believe. They have capital 
 Riidesheimer. I shall be happy to come," said 
 Alan, '' and to be of any service to you I can." 
 
 "^ That's right. Now look here, my young 
 friend, you can begin now by taking us somewhere 
 where a good glass of beer is to be had. Eh, 
 Struthers ? I think this climate demands it. I 
 like this German beer ; and if they generally 
 have summers like this I'm not surprised at 
 the awful statistics of gallons per head published 
 annually." 
 
 ''Would you like to go where the students 
 largely go to take their morning draught, noon- 
 meat, or nammet, under a chestnut-tree ? Several 
 German celebrities have sat and taken their Halbe 
 there before now." 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure in life. The beer 
 is sure to be good there I should think. I like 
 these youngsters swaggering about in coloured 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 caps. It makes me feel young again and reminds 
 me of good old Paris days. That's about thirty 
 years ago now, my boy, I'm sorry to say." There 
 was no doubt that Mr. Potter had a good deal 
 of the boy still unforgotten in his temperament. 
 It was evident from the eaofer deliofht and interest 
 he displayed in novelties of all kinds, in manners 
 and customs and scenery, from his jovial temper 
 and active body, from his persistent hunger and 
 thirst, and from the apparent invulnerability of his 
 digestion to strange foreign meats and beverages. 
 Paris bad tested that severely. 
 
 They climbed perspiring the steep Apothehe- 
 gasse, and passed in at the door of the Bremeneck, 
 wliich was a huge old tavern of an L sliape, witb 
 large rooms inside, and a large shady garden at the 
 back, in tbe angle of the L, with glass verandahs 
 along the walls. About the garden were scattered 
 wooden tables, some plain and expressionless, some 
 evidently old and covered with an intercrossing 
 confusion of carved names of all sizes and letterings. 
 Some again were extra long, fresh painted, and 
 bore one large painted monogram. These were 
 being garnished by stout liveried serviug-men with 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 229 
 
 cruet-stands_, match-liolders, and leather dice-boxes. 
 On the great trunk of the chestnut-tree were fitted 
 thin metal shields, bearing heraldic colours and 
 monograms, such as were painted on the tables or 
 worked in silver on the flat caps of the serving- 
 men. 
 
 Alan led his friends to one of the smaller tables 
 next to one with multitudinous names cut on it, 
 and they sat down, and were promptly waited on 
 by a grinning Anna, a trifle smarter than the 
 average bedmaking, slop-spilling Anna of private 
 life, but of the same breed, who brought them 
 quarter litres of beer, and a placid elderly female 
 dwarf with a basket full of roses and a costume full 
 of pins. Alan bought and distributed roses to the 
 Royal Academician and the minister, who thanked 
 him, but looked surprised and bashful, and the 
 former said : 
 
 " Now explain, McEwan, all about this place. 
 Capital beer, by Jove ! '' he added, wiping the foam 
 from his beard ; " these tables and shields and 
 liveried menials, for example, have an air of 
 aristocratic privacy." 
 
 " Oh yes. They belong to the corps-students. 
 
230 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 You will see them soon coming for their Fruh- 
 scJioppen ; but it is a little early yet. The Corps, 
 Burschenschaft, or Landsmannschaft, is practically 
 a club, founded originally on a political, religious, or 
 national basis, and requiring certain corresponding 
 qualifications on the part of the members, as well as 
 certain social rank and suchlike. Their principal 
 modern occupation is to hold together and to 
 organise amusement. A man never forgets his 
 Verhindung, but comes back to it when he can in 
 after years, when he is a prosaic lawyer or doctor 
 with much to do and little to earn, and perhaps a 
 good, affectionate, ugly Hausfrau to scold him when 
 lie stays out too late playing Skat with the Refer- 
 endar and the Bezirksarzt; and on some anniversary 
 of the Verhindung, some fine May morning when 
 this tree above is full of fresh flowers, he comes 
 back here to meet all the old companions of the 
 happy summer days and merry winter nights in old 
 Heidelberg ; yet not all of them indeed, one is dead 
 of consumption in the New World, another buried in 
 a Swiss crevasse, and a third in a mad-house — but 
 nearly all, no doubt, with whom he drank Bruder- 
 schaft at the Bremeneck years ago, when he had 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT. 231 
 
 learnt no sorrow and but little responsibility, when 
 
 they sang : 
 
 Alt Heidelberg, du feine, 
 
 Du Stadt an Ehren reich ! 
 as they floated down the river from Neckargemiind 
 in the May moonlight. And then the old room is 
 wreathed in evergreens, fiddlers hired, and a great 
 Function is held, a grave young fellow of twenty 
 presiding in a great oak chair over men twice his 
 age and young contemporaries mixed together; and, 
 ah — well, you can understand. You remember some- 
 thing of that sort too^ only the fable is related with 
 a changed name. Here's t' ye. Dr. Struthers ! " And 
 Alan drank. 
 
 ^^ You speak feelingly," said Mr. Potter. " I 
 suppose you've been through a lot of that sort of 
 thing ? '' 
 
 " Oh yes. I think I could find my name carved 
 on one of those old tables even to-day .'' 
 
 Here the corps-students began to arrive, the 
 Guestfalia being in great force in green flat caps, 
 while the Vandals formed a lordly Remnant of five 
 stalwart, solemn-faced, truculently-gashed young 
 men and four large leaden-gray hounds, one of 
 which was a fidgety loose-skinned puppy with 
 
232 AN UNFORTUNATE AEUANGEMENT. 
 
 floppy legs and a swishing tail apparently made of 
 india-rubber. Pretty to see the one corps " cap " 
 the other. 
 
 *^ Since the Jubilaiim of '86/^ said Alan, "the 
 five corps have decided to recognise each other, 
 and the official hostility is now only called into 
 existence occasionally and for special purposes/' 
 
 " I suppose these are the fellows Mark Twain 
 wrote about ? '^ 
 
 ''Yes. And I wish he had held his tongue. 
 By the way, are you fond of bathing, Mr. Potter ? '' 
 
 " Yes, rather ! Is there a place here ? I have 
 not had a decent swim' for ages. I tried in Paris ; 
 but the water is rather too much Otto of Sewercide, 
 don't you know, and too crowded. You might as 
 well bathe in a monkey-house." 
 
 ''Well, there's a very nice place here, in a 
 quiet way. Fll show you whenever you like. Did 
 you enjoy Paris ? " 
 
 " I have no doubt the girls did. I'm not 
 sure that Paris is exactly the place for a father 
 of a family of full habit aud increasing years, 
 especially when the sun makes the asphalte boil 
 and stink, and the general whiteness of things 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 233 
 
 puts your eyes out. I wonder how anybody in 
 Paris can paint at all in that beastly dazzle. 
 I'm getting quite Teutonic now, these last few 
 days. It's a much healthier life over here, I think, 
 and pleasanter really; and between you and me 
 and the minister, there's not so many shops over 
 here to tempt the girls into buying expensive trash." 
 
 '^1 see," said Alan, rather absently. The aim- 
 less, good-tempered gabble of the artist wearied 
 him. A man not to be disliked, for he was 
 uncursed by any absolute badness, and not to be 
 despised, for he had abilities and virtues, and 
 not to be endured, for he was triviality made 
 concrete. Yet he was the father — no, the uncle^ 
 Alan reflected, which is not so bad as the father, 
 not demanding so much respect — of a girl to be 
 admired and desired, in a wholly worshipful and 
 chivalrous manner. 
 
 Good Uncle Charles, quite happy with his beer 
 and his rose, and his sunshine strained through 
 chestnut leaves, quite unconscious of triviality, 
 inclined to blandly patronise an apparently 
 talented but wretchedly poor young litterateur^ 
 and an outlandish connection by marriage with 
 
234 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 no exalted social standing, at last regretfully said 
 that it was time to find tlie way back to the 
 hotel, as the table d'hote was at one, and added 
 that he had no idea of the way home. Alan 
 called the attendant Anna, interpreted to his 
 companions the money values, advised as to the 
 further gratuity, and led them away. Uncle Charles 
 exclaiming : 
 
 ''By Jove, IVe had a quart of excellent beer 
 for a matter of twopence-halfpenny ! I can't get 
 over the cheapness of things here. Why, in Paris 
 we paid a franc and a half for a sixpenny ice." 
 
 Alan led them away by the TJntere Faulen Peh, 
 past the barrack and up the steps by the church, 
 the red tracery and steeple of which Mr. Potter 
 greatly admired, on to the Anlage. When they 
 reached the Wrede-Platz, they met the two young 
 ladies in cool, pale, summer skirts strolling along 
 beneath the trees. 
 
 It is needless to say that Uncle Charles said : 
 *' Hullo ! Is that you ? " 
 
 Ida greeted McEwan with apparent warmth, 
 and said: ''This is my cousin, Nellie Potter, 
 Mr. McEwan.*' 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 235 
 
 Nellie bowed indifferently and with complete 
 self-possession. They turned homeward. 
 
 ^' I think I have seen you before for an 
 instant," said Alan. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I remember now you speak of it. 
 We had been to the Lyceum to see FaiistJ' 
 
 ^'Mr. McEwan is a great friend of Mr. Stan- 
 ton's," observed Ida, with malicious nonchalance. 
 Nellie became less self-possessed. 
 
 "Do you know Stanton?" asked Alan of 
 Nellie. 
 
 "We met him in Paris.'' 
 
 " Ah, you would. He went from London the 
 same evening as I did, though by a different 
 route. How do you like him ? " 
 
 " Oh, I thought he was very nice." 
 
 And so they entered the hotel. It is a strange 
 thing, but Alan McEwan, a man of keen mind and 
 exalted, emotional nature, was constrained to look 
 on Nellie Potter as the angel of his destiny, the 
 •star of his dark sea, the Veilchen of his particular 
 ■Wiese. Her ignorant wonder and innocent curiosity 
 in unfamiliar circumstances, he felt himself in a 
 transformed and poetic form. His eager intellect 
 
236 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 and leaping imagination perceived and adopted 
 her very ordinary little germs of opinion, clad 
 them with an aureole of completeness and ori- 
 ginality, and credited her "with the result. Feel- 
 ing immense human kindness for innocent, gracious 
 creatures, and being lonely, poor soul, with his 
 tenderness of heart frozen into defensive silence 
 among short-sighted egotists, and his natural gaiety 
 soured into railing by babbling bores and super- 
 ficial detractors, in the Wilderness of Sin, as he 
 called London, his feelings had been accumulating, 
 as it were, behind a dam. There was deepening, 
 and there was swirling, and the vision of the un- 
 known girl swirled too, amid much wreckage, and 
 dead rose-petals, and mud, and ashes. And the 
 Scotch minister, with the keen, honest eyes, and 
 the ascetic, Quixote face, opened one side of the 
 sluice-gate, and Nellie opened the other. 
 
 And yet she possessed no particular qualities 
 of mind or suggestive potentialities. She liked 
 to wear pretty clothes, and eat and drink plea- 
 sant things, and went about classifying fellow- 
 creatures as " very nice,'' "very kind," and " rather 
 funny " — Allan among the luckless latter. She 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 237 
 
 had hardly read a book worth mentioning except 
 the Bible, and did not thoroughly appreciate that, 
 but looked at it as a set of rather dijQficult but 
 highly proper " rules " of moral arithmetic. Her 
 perception of the humorous — in Alan a sixth sense 
 — was dubious, certainly not so keen as her per- 
 ception of, and shock at, the unusual or uncon- 
 ventional. Her tolerance and charity extended 
 to the particular and special, but excluded the 
 general. Conduct is excusable for Smith which 
 is unpardonable in Jones — when Smith is "very 
 nice,^' but Jones is only *' rather funny." 
 
 And yet Alan concentrated all ideals in her, 
 and found her the sublime lyric made flesh. It 
 was a very pretty piece of flesh, however, and 
 that may have unconsciously biassed the poor, 
 lonely Scotch poet with the Puritan soldier's face, 
 the keen mind and tender heart, a splendid shrine 
 of broken gods, a roofless temple of a ruined faith, 
 open both to storm and starshine. 
 
 Wherefore, amid the removing of plates by 
 nimble waiters, the loud, parrot-house conversa- 
 tion of Teutonic females, the soup - gobbling of 
 Teutonic males, napkin-breasted, the exhibition of 
 
238 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 stony glumness of an English family, of papa, 
 mamma, one long - necked, knobby - headed, prim 
 daughter, and two silent, high-collared sons, sup- 
 posed to be "learning the language," Alan looked 
 at Nellie, as at a viblet among potatoes, and said : 
 
 " What did you think of Faust ? " . 
 
 ^' Oh, 1 liked it very much. It was the first 
 time I had ever been to a theatre." 
 
 "Then I can imagine your sensations. You 
 are most fortunate.^' 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Never to have been to a theatre. Most of our 
 generation are fastidious in playhouses before they 
 are in their teens. And are you in Heidelberg for 
 the first time ? ^' 
 
 "Yes. I have never been abroad before." 
 
 '' Ah ! We must try and give you the kind of 
 first impression you ought to have." 
 
 "We want to go up to the castle after lunch. 
 I have not seen it yet." 
 
 " Mr. McEwan is going to show us the best 
 way," said Ida. 
 
 They sat in the following order at table : Uncle 
 Charles on the left, then Dr. Struthers, then Nellie, 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 239 
 
 tlien Alan, tlien Ida ; next to ter an empty place 
 with the chair tilted forward to betoken that it was 
 helegt. Just as the jSsh was being served, a metallic 
 jingle and clank came in with a very tall lieutenant 
 in a pale turquoise-coloured frock-coat, and very 
 tight pantaloons of the same, very square shoul- 
 ders, and a handsome South German face, with a 
 sun-reddened skin, a tawny, upturned moustache, 
 and agreeably smiling blue eyes, who greeted Alan 
 with cheerful politeness, and bowed courteously to 
 the company at large, and took off his sword. Alan 
 introduced him to the Potters at once as Lieu- 
 tenant Freiherr Ruprecht zu Weida. The lieu- 
 tenant bowed again repeatedly, bringing his heels 
 together with a jingle, and took the vacant seat, 
 in which he rapidly disposed of the soup, ordered 
 a bottle of sparkling Rhine wine, and started a 
 laborious English conversation with Ida Potter. 
 The two girls were both slightly agitated with a 
 nervous desire to giggle, which reached a climax 
 when the lieutenant observed to Ida ; 
 
 '* I haf yet a time hat to see you, Fraiilein, 
 yes ? '^ Ida replied, with becoming gravity : " I 
 think we saw you out on the Anlage this morning.^' 
 
240 AN UNFORTUNATE ABRANGEMENT. 
 
 " Oh yes ! I wish a long time an opportunity to 
 spik English. I will spik wit my frient te Mister 
 always English, but it goes not/' And so forth. 
 
 '' What is he ? " asked Nellie, in an undertone 
 of Alan. 
 
 " He is a Badenser, born, of a very good family, 
 and is quartered at Carlsruhe. He was a fellow- 
 student of mine long ago — very good fellow.'' 
 
 After lunch a general agreement was arrived at 
 to go to the castle. It became quite evident that 
 the lieutenant had no intention of walking up a 
 steep hill after a copious lunch and a whole bottle 
 of Sekt, for he had already gone forth with a flat 
 cap on, and a big cigar in a long meerschaum holder 
 in his teeth, to command two carriages. Moreover, 
 Uncle Charles had had what he thought exercise 
 enough for a hot day, the girls were always ready 
 to drive, and Alan and Dr. Struthers were in- 
 different. So two sunburnt, smiling-eyed, obse- 
 quious drivers brought two roomy, white-cushioned 
 carriages to the door ; and Ida took prompt 
 command of the party, and got her papa and Dr. 
 Struthers into the first carriage with great skill, 
 while she and Nellie, followed by Alan (in a vague 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 241 
 
 state of inchoate fooFs paradise) and the lieutenant, 
 bowing and saluting muchly with white gloves, 
 filled the second. And so, with much whip-crack- 
 ing and " B-r-r-r ! '^ they drove along the Anlage, 
 with great distinction, the lieutenant occasionally 
 greeting an acquaintance blandly with the white- 
 gloved hand, while Ida murmured to Nellie: 
 
 " I think Heidelberg is going to be amusing, do 
 you know/' 
 
 And they climbed across the railway and slowly 
 up the winding, dusty carriage road, the girls 
 exclaiming as the unsurpassable landscape became 
 more and more revealed, and they crossed the 
 quaint, steep village street of the Schlossberg, finally 
 rolling into the level green shade, over the bridge 
 and under the square red gate- tower, and halting 
 in the great courtyard of the castle. Here the 
 bowing Kutschers were discharged, and they all 
 walked out on to the Altan, that terrace with the 
 splendid facade behind it, the Neckar valley before 
 it, and the joyous town of Heidelberg below it. 
 The shadow of the building slanted over part of 
 the terrace, and included one of the square shelter- 
 houses set diamond-wise at the corners, which 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 stand forth from the terrace as it were on 
 brackets. 
 
 " There is no place like this in the world," said 
 Alan_, ^'and if you have never stood here on a 
 summer dav and looked out over the Neckarthal, 
 no words could make you feel the almost aching 
 joy and resistless beauty of it." 
 
 " It is splendid," said Nellie, with her elbows 
 on the worn parapet, her earnest eyes glancing 
 from the dark-green firs and white-stemmed birches 
 of the hill-sides across the rushing brown river, to 
 the little precipice below her, all rich in green ivy, 
 then, wandering westward, looked at the brown 
 and yellow-specked house-tops of Heidelberg, with 
 the long, narrow, serpentine Hauptstrasse streaking 
 its way through the confusion of homely-tiled 
 gables, the dark bulbous slate steeple of the Stifts- 
 kirche, the pinkish, thick, dome - topped tower 
 of the Jesuiten, and the dark-red Gothic lace-work 
 steeple of the Peterskirche. Then she looked away 
 beyond the town, beyond the arched and quaint 
 old bridge, beyond the slender, precise, and level 
 new bridge, beyond the green Gaisberg and 
 Heiligeuberg across a wide plain, whose yellow and 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AltRANGEMENT. 243 
 
 green fields, and purple patches of wood and red- 
 roofed hamlets clustered round some bulbous spire, 
 were all veiled in a shimmer of summer haze, and 
 softened in a golden dust of light which blended 
 the colours and took the sharp edges off everything, 
 and even made the railway-station beautiful, until 
 she came to something in the far west which was 
 sometimes mountains and sometimes mere atmo- 
 spheric shapes saturated with sunlight. 
 
 Nellie was susceptible to natural beauty, and 
 fell under the spell with which Heidelberg enthralls 
 the beholder, and binds him with a golden thread 
 which draws him back asfain however far he wander 
 in the outer and darker world. 
 
 " It's a great place, isn't it ? '' said Alan. ^' I 
 always look on it as a sweet oasis from the nine- 
 teenth swaggering, swarming century. You get 
 away up here, and you can*t hear any more of the 
 intolerable gabble and cackle and ape-gibber of 
 the March of Progress, which generally goes along 
 to the quick step of the Dance of Death. You look 
 behind here, where we stand at this minute, and 
 see the dear old place, outliving the shock and 
 battery of many wars, and defying time ; and, 
 
 R 2 
 
244 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 althoucfh over-ridden bv tourists with Baedeker and 
 cotton umbrellas and field-glasses, and chipped, and 
 chalked, and pencilled by the shameless fools who 
 are always with us, and whom I do not suffer 
 gladly, it defies vulgarisation." 
 
 " It is certainly the most beautiful thing I have 
 
 ever seen/' 
 
 " So say I, Miss Potter. It is not that I wish 
 to depreciate other beautiful sights. Venice is 
 beautiful no doubt. The Nile and the Alps — the 
 Yosemite Valley, Niagara, and many other things, 
 would all have some special effect on one, I have 
 no doubt ; but the combination of natural beautv of 
 situation with the dignity of human art, the sanctity 
 of suffering, and the honour of secular endurance is 
 not easily to be matched — except by Edinburgh." 
 
 ^^ You are Scotch, of course, Mr. McEwan ? " 
 
 " Well, rather. Fm a great admirer of Heidel- 
 berg, too, and perhaps I gush a little too much 
 over it. You are going through it all, I suppose, 
 while you are about it ? I mean the Fass, the 
 museum, the blown-up tower, and all that. Shall 
 1 get some tickets ? It is just handy." 
 
 " I will ask Ida." And they walked to where 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABEANGEMENT. 245 
 
 Ida and Lieutenant za Weida were standing, just 
 in the window of the aforesaid shelter-house at the 
 corner. Uncle Charles and Dr. Struthers were 
 sitting on the bench in the same. Ida was putting 
 the lieutenant in a nervous perspiration by sitting 
 on the sill of the look-out, and leaning over to look 
 at the view in such wise that a sneeze would 
 probably have sent her headfirst down a moderately 
 deep precipice. He was protesting in obscure 
 Angloid idioms, which of course only made her 
 more obstinately venturous. Uncle Charles wiped 
 his head, and exclaimed at the prospect. Dr. 
 Struthers was silent and thoughtful. 
 
 They all went through the prescribed round of 
 sights in the Schloss, which took a long time, and 
 made them hot and thirsty, while the rapid pro- 
 fessional " patter " of the guide-woman made their 
 heads ache. She ran off years and centuries, and 
 gallons, and litres, and electors, and feet, and 
 metres in hundreds and thousands, till their brains 
 danced in delirious dividends and quotients, and 
 she selected Uncle Charles (with the certainty born 
 of long tourist experience) as the member of the 
 party on whom the venerable fox- tail joke was to 
 
246 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 be played down in the cellar, xlnd I regret to 
 further aver that Uncle Charles thought it very 
 funny, and laughed consumedly. 
 
 The upshot was a visit to the Garten-Wirth- 
 schaft, where rest, shade, ices, music, and beer 
 solaced them. Mr. Potter and the two girls found 
 great diversion in teaching the lieutenant English, 
 while McEwan gently drifted via history to ethics 
 and theology with Dr. Struthers, looking furtively 
 now and then at Nellie's face. Nellie was very 
 healthy and happy, and a little sunburnt, and 
 looked, perhaps, better than she ever had in her 
 life before. She was beginning to acquire ex- 
 pression and animation, and to lose that negative 
 submissiveness which characterised her on her first 
 introduction to the, so to speak, extraparochial 
 world. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon they walked 
 down the precipitous road through the Schlossberg, 
 where Alan pointed out to Nellie the antiquity of 
 the houses, and more especially the house of the 
 executioner. Nellie was duly interested, but found 
 Alan's conversation rather difficult at times to 
 understand, owing to a way he had of saying quite 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 217 
 
 serious things and quite extravagant and facetious 
 tilings in exactly the same matter-of-fact tone, and 
 with no indication that he was not conveying 
 his meaning in literal accordance with his words, 
 except, perhaps, a momentary twinkle of his dark 
 eyes, which would be gone before she was quite 
 sure of its presence. The consequence, the in- 
 evitable consequence, of this was that while he 
 imagined he was doing his best to entertain her, 
 she gradually acquired the notion that he was 
 '^ making fun '' of her, and was proportionately 
 ill-pleased. 
 
 Lieutenant zu Weida was getting on capitally 
 with Ida, in the meantime, and had arranged in 
 his own mind that all his meals should, as much 
 as possible, take place at the " Hotel de TBurope,'* 
 during his stay in Heidelberg. He had already 
 arranged that the party should go after dinner to 
 the Stadt-Grarten, which was nearly opposite to 
 their hotel, to hear the band of the local regiment; 
 and visions floated before Ida of the appearance of 
 many worshippers at her altar, all with square 
 shoulders, confined waists, and long legs with tight 
 pantaloons. 
 
248 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 Uncle Charles had made up his mind to go 
 sketching the next day, and was going to look out 
 the necessary apparatus when he got home. Dr. 
 Struthers and Alan McEwan bade the party fare- 
 well when they arrived on level ground, and 
 started off together to find a place to combine 
 Ahend-brod with "freedom, faith, foreknowledge 
 absolute '^ in, later on. And there is no doubt 
 that they found it, and talked without ceasing till 
 about midnight, leaving each other ultimately with 
 increased respect, but unaltered convictions. And 
 when Dr. Struthers had gone home to rest, Alan 
 walked alone on the old bridge and thought things 
 over. He looked up the river and down. West- 
 ward, the lights gleamed from the town, in 
 irregular lines, while the village of Neuenheim was 
 attached to the town of Heidelberg by a perfectly 
 straight row of glittering points, of which the 
 reflections wavered and fluctuated in the water 
 below. Eastward, lights rose in a sloping series up 
 the hillside, marking out the position of the Schloss; 
 berg, down which he had walked with Nellie in the 
 blazing sunlight six hours ago. 
 
 The darkness almost hid the hills, but the 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 249 
 
 stars overhead were very bright, with a brilliance 
 that was almost wintry. It was not quite so 
 hot DOW, for the night breeze was coming down 
 the Neckar. The aroma of fir-woods and fern- 
 brakes from Neckarsteinach and Neckargemiind, 
 the odour of roses from Ziegelhausen and the 
 village rose-gardens of all the Neckarthal, the 
 faint, sweet smell of distant farmyards, and the 
 indefinite, intoxicating, fragrant freshness of wind 
 blowing over grass and flowers and over running 
 water, came with the breeze, and filled Alan^s 
 already highly-excited mind with all that poetry 
 which is the soul of such a summer night, which 
 mastered him utterly, making his life seem a 
 joyous thing, and earth a pleasant and beautiful 
 place, full of lovable creatures, sanctifying and 
 softening sorrow, and giving him strange, wordless 
 messages from the infinite Divinity, whose angels 
 are fragrant winds, whose servants the blazing 
 constellations are. 
 
 ^ '^ Yes. Die Sommernacht hat mich umgethan ! 
 And I stand here on the old bridge and watch 
 the stars, and listen to the river running away 
 like time, and I say that honour, and joy, and 
 
250 ^.Y UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 beauty have not left the world yet, that righteous- 
 ness exalteth a nation, and that making fortunes 
 does not. I say that doing ever so little is better 
 than talking ever so much, that it is a happier 
 thing to be kind to our brother than to poison 
 and cheat him, that wisdom is better than rubies, 
 and that I regret my lack of either. And oh 1 
 a little love is worth more than all the wisdom 
 and all the money in the whole world. Hier stehe 
 ich. Ich han7i nicht anders. Gott hiilfe mir ! '' 
 
 Soon after Alan wandered off to the Bremeneck, 
 where he found a room full of uproarious students, 
 sending songs out by the open casements into 
 the joyous July night, and he was received with 
 acclamation, accepted a long pipe and a spherical 
 seidel of beer, stayed to sing and drink till high 
 dawn, and went home to the '^ Weisse Rose," 
 chorusing with some dozen Academic youths : 
 
 Audi mir stehst du geschrichen 
 
 Ins Herz gleich cine Brant! 
 
 Es Iclingt wie jnnges Lichen 
 
 Dein^ Name mir so traiit ! 9 
 
 till the constable made them stop. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 And tlie sun daily rose and blazed, the thermometer 
 on the Anlage stood steady at eighty-nine degrees at 
 ^ midday ; music played in Schloss-Garten and Stadt- 
 Garten, and roses were bought and worn everywhere 
 by everybody, till the air breathed roses, and pink, 
 and white, and sulphur-yellow petals were carried 
 away, on the brown Neckar to mingle with the 
 Rhine at Mannheim, and perhaps even to travel 
 further ; past mighty old episcopal Mainz, where 
 the brown-red dome proudly over-peers the house- 
 tops, and the soldiers tramp backwards and for- 
 wards on the long bridges ; past the gray right 
 angle of Coblenz, where the towers of the thousand- 
 year-old gray palace flank the Mosel, and gray- 
 green and blue streams flow together, where yet 
 more soldiers tramp backwards and forwards over 
 
252 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 the bridge of boats, to and from the minatory 
 yellow shelves and ledges of steep Ehrenbreitstein ; 
 past all the vine-clad mountains and out over the 
 immense plain, where stands the holy and ancient 
 city of the twin spires and the multitudinous time- 
 worn churches, even to the white-walled, green- 
 shuttered, scarlet-tiled toy-towns of Holland, where 
 grave little girls in copper caps and boys with 
 grown up clothes will call them " Roosenblader.'' 
 
 Alan McEwan was letting himself drift pleasantly 
 and helplessly through the summer days and nights, ^ 
 very like the rose petals, and the resistless river 
 which bore him was one of the four which water 
 FooFs Paradise, find their way into the rosy sea 
 of the Anadyomene, and finally cast themselves 
 together torrentful over the fall of Wanhope and 
 Derision. The first is called Opportunity, the 
 second Vanity, the third Hope, and the fourth 
 is called Love for part of its course, and Experience 
 afterwards. 
 
 During this process a curious thing came to 
 pass. Mr. Charles Potter was considering his re- 
 sponsibilities as uncle and temporary guardian of 
 his niece, and it occurred to him that she seemed 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AUEANGEMENT. 253 
 
 to be associated in the daily* walks and pleasurings 
 a little too exclusively with McEwan. It always 
 somehow happened that they met Lieutenant zu 
 Weida, if, indeed, he did not start with them, and 
 Uncle Charles would find himself in the company 
 of Dr. Struthers, while the tall, light-blue form 
 of the lieutenant paced before him with Ida under 
 the trees of the Anlage or the Schloss gardens, 
 while Alan McEwan (who usually " occurred '* 
 along with the lieutenant) dallied behind with 
 Nellie. Nellie had grown accustomed to Alan's 
 peculiarities of conversation, understood a fair 
 percentage of his meaning, as a rule, now, and 
 rather liked him, after a fashion. At any rate 
 she enjoyed his company, and would have been 
 disappointed and resentful if he had not walked 
 and talked with her and generally devoted him- 
 self to her entertainment. If he had had sufficient 
 cunning to neglect her occasionally and deal in 
 a little sentimental and humorous small change 
 with Ida, it is probable that Nellie would have 
 become quite strongly attached to him. As it 
 was, she grew to look upon his attendance as a 
 kind of tributary right. 
 
254 AK UNFORTUNATE AUEANGEMENT. 
 
 Mr. Potter spoke on the matter to his daughter, 
 saying: ''You know I like the fellow, very good 
 kind of fellow, clever and all that, perhaps a 
 trifle too fond of a spree — but there, what's that ? 
 Still, a man in my responsible position must be 
 a little particular — eh ? I don't know what course 
 to adopt exactly." 
 
 "Is his moral character all you find fault 
 with ? " 
 
 " Well, isn't that the great thing after all ? 
 Still, you know, I don't believe the fellow has 
 two hundred a year to bless himself with. I don't 
 want to spoil sport, but duty is duty. Don't you 
 think you could pump the girl a bit ? And 
 then " 
 
 " Then report to you ? Well, I can tell you all 
 there is to tell without pumping. Nellie has a 
 perfectly transparent expression. You always can 
 read her feelings in her face. She is not dan- 
 gerously infatuated with Mr.. McEwan, I don't 
 think, but she likes him." 
 
 '' Well, just warn her — straight tip, as Charlie 
 says — that he's fa little — er — unsteady, you know, 
 and — er " 
 
A2T UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 255 
 
 Here Nellie came in witli an excited expression. 
 The aboi{p conversation took place in the glass 
 smoking-room of the " Hotel de I'Europe," before 
 evening table d'hote, and Nellie had apparently 
 just come in from out of doors. Her pale olive 
 face and neck had got warmed by the summer 
 of the Neckarthal to the delicate rosy tawny, and 
 there was animation and decision in her manner, 
 and as she stood steeped in sunlight, with a great 
 bunch of roses in one hand, in her white dress 
 and a large black straw hat, laughing and swing- 
 ing a white lace sunshade, one would rather say 
 a beauty from the febrile tropics, from some " land 
 of sand and ruin and gold," than the only child 
 of a country recto^ in the south of England, who 
 visited the poor, and watered the garden, and 
 decorated the font. 
 
 Wbat now appeared was the real and formid- 
 able Nellie, long latent, undeveloped, and unex- 
 pected, drawn at last into complete life and blossom, 
 like the red and yellow roses, by the sunshine, 
 and beauty, and freedom of her new life. 
 
 " Well, miss," said her uncle, " where have 
 you been ? " 
 
256 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " Oh, just along the Anlage, I went to get a 
 glass of milk. Ida^ that Swiss old woman at the 
 milk stall makes lovely lace; but we didn't manage 
 to understand each other very well ; however, Mr. 
 McEwan explained to her, and Vve got some, and 
 
 here's a piece for you, Ida, and that's not all " 
 
 Nellie stopped to breathe. Ida said : 
 
 "Thanks, awfully. You are a sweet person to 
 think of me ; but may I ask, was Mr. McEwan 
 taking milk too ? Because it is not much in his 
 usual line, I think." 
 
 " Well, he was, any way. At least, I met him 
 on the Anlage, and told him I was going to have 
 some milk, and he said it had been at one time his 
 frequent, favourite, and only beverage ; that he 
 would like to renew his recollections — you know 
 how he talks, Ida." 
 
 " Well, I should say you were a better authority 
 by this time. Continue." 
 
 '^ He said he was puzzled, and amazed, and 
 alarmed. And I said, what for ? And so he said a 
 burden had come upon him which he had not 
 expected, and which he imagined would be difficult 
 to survive. He said that with such a gloomy and 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AUTvANGEMENT. 257 
 
 tragic face that I fancied he was serious, and asked 
 him if he had lost a relation. He said he had^ an 
 uncle ; but he could bear that_, never having seen 
 him, and having gathered the lowest opinion of 
 him from hearsay. This uncle was something in 
 the mercantile line, and was not much worse than 
 relations generally are, and has left him a treacle- 
 well and a white elephant '^ 
 
 " Take a rest. I presume you are quoting 
 Mr. McEwan?" 
 
 " Yes. I understand the treacle-well to be 
 some mine or other, and the white elephant, tram- 
 ways, or gas-smelting works, or something of that 
 sort. I don't think he has a clear idea himself; 
 but the long and short of it is, that he has come 
 in for about four thousand a year." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Uncle Charles, " I am glad 
 to hear it ! He is a young fellow I have always 
 liked. I was only saying to Ida just now what 
 a capital fellow he was, such good spirits and all. 
 Ask him to dinner, Nellie, next time you see him, 
 and we'll go to the expense of champagne round, 
 and drink his health." Ida looked at her father 
 and smiled ironically. 
 
 VOL. I. s 
 
258 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 '^He said he was going to begin at once to 
 get into tbe swing of it, and bought a cigar for 
 ten instead of five pfennigs from the woman at 
 the Trinkhalle, and he is going to give his student 
 friends a cask of beer to-night." 
 
 '^Did he give you all those roses ? " asked Ida. 
 
 " He did. You shall have some if you like — 
 only Mr. zu Weida is sure to bring you some." 
 
 '^Well, you are getting on. You'd better go 
 up and take your hat off, and put on some roses, 
 because dinner will be ready directly." Nellie 
 waltzed off over the polished floor of the dining- 
 room, to the admiration of the grave young 
 waiters who were setting out the long tables. 
 
 So we arrive at these points : that Nellie has 
 awakened to complete life, self-realisation the 
 philosopher will say ; has found out that the earth- 
 spirit has a voice for her the poet will say ; that 
 music, and mirth, and fierce summer sunshine, such 
 as she has not hitherto felt, are truly the en- 
 vironment nature intended her to exist in ; that 
 it is a joyful and a pleasant thing to be nineteen 
 and as lovely as a new-blown rose, and rare sport 
 to play with a man's heart. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE AEBANGEMENT. 259 
 
 (C 
 
 You quite cut me out/^ observed Ida, " I told 
 you you would. The Rectory won't know you." 
 
 Furthermore we observe that Alan McEwan 
 has become, to his own and every one else^s 
 surprise, a comparatively rich man. Meeting Dr. 
 Struthers at their customary supper at eight 
 o'clock in the riverside garden of the '^ Schiff," 
 Alan said : 
 
 ''^No doubt you have been told that I have 
 come into a fortune." 
 
 " I have heard it. God help ye to use it, 
 for His glory and your own good." 
 
 " Wei], I am going to begin. I want you 
 to take back to Auld Reekie a hundred pounds 
 from me, and use in the best way jou. can for 
 those that want it most, the bairns that have 
 not enough porridge, the old men and women 
 that are past work, the lasses that go wrong for 
 the lack of it, and all the stricken and ' sair 
 hodden doun,' that in your opinion may be 
 benefited by it. And you will keep this con- 
 fidential please." 
 
 The next day, in consequence of a plan some 
 time made by Alan and the lieutenant, and agreed 
 
 s 2 
 
260 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 to by the Potters, an expedition was made to 
 Neokarsteinacli, in a very warm compartment of 
 a very deliberate train which wound its leisurely 
 way up the curving valley of the Neckar^ by way 
 of Schlierbach and Neckargemiind. 
 
 "Even the railways have a touch of Arcadia 
 left in them about here/' observed Alan to Xellie, 
 as they alighted at Neckarsteinach, where the 
 vine and clematis and rose climbed over the ends 
 of the little station, built of course of the eternal 
 pale red stone. 
 
 "Yes. It was simply beautiful all the way 
 here. What do we do now ? " replied, she, as the 
 little group emerged on to the road. 
 
 " Mr. Potter will be anxious to take some 
 sketches, and there will be copious opportunities ; 
 but I may hint that there will be a great deal of 
 walking, and. that mainly uphill. I may add that 
 I have just noticed by the station clock that it is 
 hard, on one " 
 
 " What is hard on who ? '' asked Nellie. 
 
 " If I did ever descend to the desfradintr 
 practice of playing on words, or punning, I would 
 at least be grammatical. I was about to say, 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 261 
 
 when interrupted by a factious opposition^ that 
 it is nearly one o'clock, and will quite be before 
 we get to the ^Harp/^^ 
 
 Uncle Charles brightened and said : ^ 
 
 " Ah, yes, the *" Harp.' Let us have some lunch, 
 eh ? I like the sound of the ' Harp.' Can you 
 get a good feed there^ McEwan ? '^ 
 
 "I took the liberty to foreordain a trifling 
 foolish banquet by post yesterday, Mr. Potter. 
 I wanted you all to taste Neckar trout, and to 
 find things ready when we came. There is a 
 nice garden at the ' Harp/ right down to the 
 riverside, where we will, I trust, find our table 
 spread, and the wine freezing in the shade in a 
 zinc pail of ice.^' 
 
 Mr. Potter smote McEwan on the back with 
 stunning force, and said : 
 
 '^My dear fellow, thank you, in the name of 
 this company. It was most thoughtful. You 
 are one of nature's noblemen. I say, is it far ? '^ 
 
 '^Not very, but we had better start." And 
 they walked along the white road with corn-fields 
 on either side, where daisies, red poppies, white 
 convolvuli, and blue corn-flowers grew, towards 
 
262 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 the village of Neckansteinacli, admiring the grim 
 
 brown towers on the dark green heights above. 
 
 Alan and Nellie walked in front to show the way, 
 
 while Mr. Potter, carrying sketching apparatus 
 
 in one hand and the cotton umbrella in the other, 
 
 formed with Dr. Struthers the main body, the 
 
 lieutenant (in a marvellous suit of mufti supposed 
 
 to be an exact imitation of the English mode, with 
 
 tight blue trousers, a pleasing drab jacket w^ith 
 
 very square shoulders, and a rather tall straw hat 
 
 with a broad white ribbon and narrow brim) and 
 
 Ida were the rear guard. The way was perfectly 
 
 straight, an inch deep in white dust, with very 
 
 sparse trees alongside, and the atmosphere quivered 
 
 with heat as one looked forward at the lonsr white 
 
 streak of road. The sky above was cloudlessly 
 
 blue, and there was no wind, and the little party 
 
 of pilgrims sighed for the shade, except indeed 
 
 Nellie, who seemed really to enjoy the heat and 
 
 spread her petals to it, so to speak.. 
 
 "1 am afraid they will find me awfully changed 
 when I get home again," said she to Alan, who 
 walked hands in pockets, hat on nape, at her side. 
 
 "In what way? Some kinds of change are 
 
AI^ UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 263 
 
 so mucli more desirable than others. For example, 
 I knew a man once who turned blue through 
 taking nitrate of silver and found it very ad- 
 vantageous_, harmonising much better with his 
 furniture/' 
 
 '^ Ohj don't be silly ! I mean that I have got 
 cheeky, and worldly, and all that sort of thing/' 
 
 " Oh ? " 
 
 '^ I have really. And I'm afraid it won't be 
 easy to get rid of " 
 
 "It will wear off with the sunburn." 
 
 " It is about as unbecoming." 
 
 "Yes. Just about/' replied Alan, glancing 
 at the neck, coloured like ripening corn, with 
 little escaping black spirals of hair hanging 
 about. Nellie smiled. 
 
 " There, I can't help it. It's the weather re- 
 sponsible for it all, I dare say. When you have 
 
 never been allowed any^ excitement all your life, 
 and then suddenly get nothing else for about a 
 fortnight, it must have some kind of effect, I 
 should think." 
 
 " No doubt. I wouldn't fash about it if I 
 were you." 
 
264 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " Oh, I don't. I'm too busy enjoying myself. 
 It is very pretty about here, indeed. What is 
 that old towery place among the trees, high up ? '* 
 
 " Remains of a keep, known as tlie Swallow's 
 Nest. You will be expected to go up that hill 
 after lunch, I should think." 
 
 " Oh, I want to ! I love exploring, and I'm 
 quite used to going uphill." 
 
 *^ Ah, yes. You are not a Londoner, I re- 
 member, who wants a cab to take her half a mile, 
 or would require ropes and ice-axes to get up 
 Primrose Hill. Here we approach the village, 
 picturesque, but a little smelly." 
 
 " What a curious woman ! What's the matter 
 with her ? " 
 
 " Oh, she's all right. She's only a Dilsberger. 
 Dilsberg is a walled village on the top of a hill 
 across the river. You will see it directly — go 
 up it if you like, but it's pretty steep work in 
 this sun. It is inhabited by beings like that 
 little person. They are not exactly idiots, but 
 have less mind than even averacfe human beincs. 
 and can only manage to tackle very simple forms 
 of work. They make blocks of peat here, for 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 265 
 
 example, for fuel. They are about as clever witli 
 their feet as with their hands, and sometimes give 
 one the idea that their natural attitude would be 
 on all fours. They live rather like pigs ; but they 
 are a blameless folk, and, I understand, sound 
 churchmen/^ 
 
 Nellie's eyes got grave and pitiful. 
 
 " How dreadful ! I never imagined there were 
 such people in the world. It must be difficult 
 almost to know whether they have souls at all, 
 I should think." 
 
 '* It would require a very quaint Abschlag of 
 Paradise to accommodate them certainly. You 
 may meet one or two more, I dare say, while 
 you are about here, and they don't look nice : 
 but don't be afraid of tbem, they mean no harm. 
 If they burble a little gibberish at you, it means 
 they would like a pfennig or two." 
 
 *' I am not afraid, I am so sorry for them.^^ 
 
 Then they walked on a little further without 
 saying anything, examining th.e queer old houses 
 and cottages of Neckarsteinach, and being freely 
 stared at and admired by hale, old, leather-skinned 
 peasants and white - headed, barefooted, little 
 
266 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 boys and girls^ to say nothing of cocks and liens 
 and cows. • 
 
 At length Nellie said : '' I wonder how it feels 
 to be rich ? Don't you feel awfully happy, know- 
 ing that you can do almost whatever you like ? " 
 
 '^I feel unspeakably uplifted^ of course. Still, 
 I can imagine things in the world I should like 
 which all the gold in the treasures of the Nibe- 
 lungen could not buy. But men's desires generally 
 outstrip their possessions, else, I suppose, competi- 
 tion and progress would cease, which would be 
 a pity/' 
 
 ''^What is this wonderful thing you want, that 
 money cannot buy?" 
 
 "I said things. Wisdom, for example. A 
 more useful career to look back on, and a happier 
 one to look forward to." 
 
 "Well, you can't change the past, so it's no 
 use bothering about it; but I suppose there is 
 nothing to prevent your enjoying the future now. 
 What more do you want ? " 
 
 *' That's a secret. Here's the ' Harp.' Let us 
 touch upon it." 
 
 " Won't you tell me ? Tell me afterwards, when 
 
AK UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 267 
 
 we all go exploring." This in an undertone, as the 
 others came up. 
 
 Alan looked at her, and smiled that sombre eye- 
 smile of hisj and said : 
 
 " Perhaps. Peradventure. In fact, aiblins.^' 
 
 Ida arrived hot, but happy, and laughing as 
 usual at Freiherr zu Weida, who was carrying on 
 the most complex kind of ^' chaff '^ in fragments of 
 three languages, and smoking a pale brown cigar 
 in the long meerschaum holder which seldom left 
 his mouth. 
 
 Then they all lunched with great appetite, 
 satisfaction, and merriment, down in the riverside 
 garden, opposite to the strang'e village of Dilsberg 
 on the hilltop. Outside, below the garden wall, , a 
 ferry plied slowly backwards and forwards, and 
 little boys and girls played about the piles of cub 
 wood on shore. 
 
 iTp the hill, in the fragrant shade of the fir- 
 trees, Alan and Nellie diverged from their party 
 gradually, and wandered, pausing to look out at 
 the beautiful landscape and wide reaches of 
 river when the foliage and the direction gave an 
 
268 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 opportunity. At last they sat down on one of the 
 frequent rustic benches, with the trees of the hill-top, 
 and a tall, square, ruined tower close behind them. 
 Nellie fanned herself with a paper Japanese fan 
 she always carried hanging to her belt in these hot 
 days, and leaned back to rest after the long climb. 
 Alan stretched out his long legs before him, with 
 the feet crossed, and pulled his hat (the same old, 
 soft deer - stalker) downwards and forwards to 
 shade his eyes. 
 
 " Good, isn't it ? ^' he murmured, indicating the 
 prospect. 
 
 *' Perfectly lovely. I shall be hardly able to 
 leave this part of the world at all. It's like fairy- 
 land.'^ 
 
 " Going soon ? " 
 
 " I think we are going to Munich at the end of 
 the week. I am almost sure that is the idea." 
 
 " Couldn^t you suggest stopping longer ? I 
 could easily find lots of things for them to 
 do. Tell the E.A. what inexhaustible supplies of 
 picture-stuff there are about here, whereas at 
 Munich he will only be able to look at other 
 fellows' pictures." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 269 
 
 tc 
 
 I can't say mucli^ because, you see, tHey are 
 taking me, and if it wasn't for them I sliouldn't be 
 here at all.'^ 
 
 ^^ True. Let us thaok them for that limited 
 privilege." 
 
 Short silence. 
 
 '^ How funny you should have seen me at that 
 restaurant in London_, the first (and only) night I 
 was there ! " 
 
 " Extraordinary coincidence. I'm afraid they 
 don't happen often.'' 
 
 " What is so curious is that you should remem- 
 ber it. Why, you had never seen me before, and 
 it must have been only about a second." 
 
 "That was enough, it seems." Short silence. 
 Then Alan added : " Well, it's a pity you've got to 
 leave Alt' Heidelberg so soon, isn't it ? However, 
 you will have been here long enough to find out 
 what a good place it is. There is none like her, 
 none.' Nor shall be till our summers shall have 
 ceased." 
 
 "Are you obliged to stop at Heidelberg?" 
 suggested Nellie, in a rather low voice, and looking 
 diagonally away from him at the view. 
 
270 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 iC] 
 
 'M ? No. No, I could haul up or drag my 
 anchor, I suppose." 
 
 "Well, why can't you drag it — to Munich ? " 
 " I think, you know — to keep up this interest- 
 ing nautical simile — one ought to wait to receive 
 signals from the party commanding the — er — pro- 
 posed convoy. No other difficulty presents itself 
 to me. Cable can be slipped at a moment's notice." 
 '' I am sure Uncle Charles would be glad if you 
 came, because you're so useful, knowing the 
 language, and the places, and the prices, and 
 people, and wine, and beer, and all that. I don't 
 mean that he doesn't like you for any other reason 
 of course — I think he will ask you to join us.'' 
 " Do you ? " 
 " Yes, I'm almost sure." 
 
 '' Ha. Let us hope so. So 5^0^ li^e Heidel- 
 berg ? '' 
 
 *' Yes, I do indeed. It is still a wonderful thing 
 to me to be abroad at all, you know ; but in a 
 beautiful part like this, it seems like a fairy tale." 
 '*I think it is, and my sudden accession of 
 wealth adds to the illusion. Perhaps it will all turn 
 into dry leaves — or old counterfoils, which are, I 
 take it, the modern commercial equivalent." 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 271 
 
 '^ And tliey lived happy ever after. That's how- 
 it ought to end. At least, it generally does, doesn't 
 it?^^ 
 
 " In fairy tales, yes." 
 
 Alan looked at the girl in her white dress, with 
 red roses on her breast, as she sat lazily back in the 
 corner of the rustic bench, swinging one foot with 
 a gentle, circular motion, and gazing a great way 
 off at the river, valley, and castle-crowned hills, 
 and he said : 
 
 ''^I wonder if they take boarders at Dilsberg 
 — that community of harmless idiots, you know, 
 up there over the way." 
 
 " Why ? '' 
 
 " Because I feel a conviction that I am slowly be- 
 coming fit to pass my 'prelim.' for entrance there." 
 
 " What ? I don't know what you mean.'' 
 
 "No ? Oh, never mind. One must be a little 
 silly now and then, I suppose, or life would be 
 intolerable." 
 
 " What have you done that is so particularly 
 silly ? " 
 
 '' Oh, a variety of things. But one, in par- 
 ticular, I don't know that it would be specially 
 interesting for you to hear." 
 
272 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " Well, I want to hear." 
 
 '' Give me the fan, then. I must have some- 
 thing to fidget with, to hide my embarrassment 
 while making degrading admissions." 
 
 Nellie held out the fan, and Alan took it, 
 their fingers coming into momentary contact, 
 which was just appreciably protracted — no more, 
 Nellie continuing to look intently at the scenery. 
 Alan said nothing for a few moments, and Nellie 
 said : 
 
 " Well ? '' 
 
 '^ How old are you, Nellie ? I beg your par- 
 don; it was inadvertent — comes from hearing you 
 constantly so addressed by your relations.''^ 
 
 ''I don't mind your calling me Nellie, if you 
 like. But I think I wouldn't do it — always, do 
 you see ? Not before " 
 
 " Not before crowded audiences ? I quite 
 catch on.^^ 
 
 " I am twenty next birthday." 
 
 '^ Lucky person ! I was two-and-thirty last." 
 
 "Yes, but that is hardly what you were going 
 to tell me, is it ? " 
 
 "Mere preliminary skirmishing, to put off the 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ABBANGEMENT. 273 
 
 crisis. Well, in spite of tlie maturity whicii I 
 have just admitted, I have become the victim of 
 a strong affection for a young person of the 
 opposite sex/^ 
 
 " Oh ? But why is that foolish ? " 
 
 '^ Because I don't think there is any strong 
 probability of her taking a corresponding interest 
 in me." 
 
 " She doesn^t know it, then ? '' 
 
 "Not from any telling of mine.^^ 
 
 "Why don't you tell her?'' 
 
 " Staving off the catastrophe. Want to play 
 about in Fool's Paradise a little longer, per- 
 chance." 
 
 " What is she like ? Is she nice ? " 
 
 " Well, I naturally think her beautiful and 
 good in the highest degree, but may not be 
 wholly impartial." 
 
 "Do I know her?" 
 
 " You probably think you do." 
 
 " Is it— it isn't Ida, is it ? " 
 
 " No, it isn't Ida." 
 
 Then Nellie looked at Alan for a moment or 
 two, and said : 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 " How do you know slie doesn't like you ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I spoke of probabilities. Do 
 you think it likely ? '^ 
 
 Nellie smiled a little, and went on gently 
 swinging one foot and contemplating the Neckar. 
 Then she said : 
 
 " I wish you would give me back my fan. I 
 want something to fidget with, too." 
 
 Alan silently handed it back, and the contact 
 again occurred, but was more prolonged. 
 
 '^ How your fingers shake ! " observed Nellie, 
 as Alan proceeded to pull his long, straggling 
 wisp of a moustache about — a nervous habit of 
 
 his. 
 
 '^Perhaps they do. Do you think it likely?" 
 
 "What?" And Nellie smiled at the land- 
 scape again. 
 
 '^'Oh, you know. Never mind. I will put 
 it to you another way. Would you suggest in- 
 forming her point - blank, or would you leave 
 matters in the present condition of pleasing un- 
 certainty ? " 
 
 "You know I have no experience. And I 
 should think you have — haven't you ? " 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 275 
 
 '^Very little. Tliat^s a part of my education 
 wliicli has been neglected." 
 
 '^Vm not so sure about that. What are you 
 laughing at ? ^' 
 
 " A scene in ' Pickwick * came into my head. 
 Do you remember the fat boy saying : ' So's hers ! 
 You're her ' ? I do not suggest that it has any 
 particular connection with — er — the plot ; but it's 
 extraordinary how these things leap inoppor- 
 tunely into one's mind." 
 
 Nellie looked at Alan this time, and said : 
 
 " What a curious man you are ! '' 
 
 '^ I am. What particular aspect of my abnor- 
 mality is it just now which attracts your atten- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " I suppose it's being Scotch makes you use 
 all those long words. Well, you say things in 
 such an unusual way." 
 
 " What is the usual way of saying — these 
 things ? " 
 
 "I don't know, except in books." 
 
 '^I haven't got up the recognised text-books 
 lately, so have to improvise a method. I hope 
 I am approximately intelligible ? " 
 
276 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 ""Well, yes — sometimes. Do you like her very 
 much, Mr. McEwan ? " 
 
 Here Nellie let the hanii nearest Alan fall 
 upon the bench between them, from which it 
 busied itself in picking minute splinters. 
 
 "Very much indeed," replied Alan, bringing 
 down a corresponding hand into the immediate 
 proximity of hers. As she went on picking at the 
 woodwork industriously, his hand proceeded to cover 
 and enclose hers, as it were accidentally, while her 
 eyes wandered into remote space. Then he took 
 entire possession of the hand, and tremulously 
 kissed it. Nellie, like the Tar-baby, " went on sayin' 
 nuffin','' and did not remove it. Then Alan said : 
 
 " Look here, Nellie, joking apart, you know who 
 it is, don't you ? " 
 
 Nellie, in a very low voice, with her head down, 
 replied : 
 
 " Yes— I think so." 
 
 " Does she like him ? " Nellie clutched his 
 hand with a sudden impulsive pressure which 
 lasted but a second, and said : *' Yes." 
 
 Then Alan came close to her, and whispered in 
 her ear : " I love you.^' 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 277 
 
 Nellie continued to hold her head down, while 
 the rose mingled with the sunlit corn-colour in her 
 neck. She again gave his hand that impulsive 
 clutch. Then they said nothing for a little while, 
 the lark sang in the blue lift, and a little breeze 
 moved the fir and birch twigs. Nellie looked up 
 for a moment into his face, and he saw that her 
 eyes were a little wet. Then they kissed one 
 another, and time stood still for a while. 
 
 " Come along,^^ said Nellie. " We onust go and 
 look for the others. Let's be natural now, and 
 behave properly.'' 
 
 " I always thought the two conditions were 
 incompatible.'^ 
 
 " Oh, don't prose. Smoke a cigar. I know 
 you want it now." 
 
 '' I do. I will. My conversation will be 
 strictly monosyllabic if you like. Come along." 
 
 When they went back in the boat that evening 
 down the Neckar, chattering and singing in the 
 summer night, Alan thought what a jolly, kind old 
 fellow Uncle Charles was ; what a manly, handsome, 
 gay cavalier Ruprecht zu Weida was ; how much 
 
273 AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 
 
 larger and brighter than usual the stars were ; and 
 that if anything has a more overpowering and 
 rapturous enchantment than a summer day, it is a 
 summer night. 
 
 Nellie, too, felt the tenderness and beauty of 
 the time and place, as they floated down to Heidel- 
 berg, and she was silent, her face looking rather 
 pale, and her eyes large and melancholy. A kind 
 of appointment was suggested rather than made 
 between her and Alan, that they should go out 
 early in the morning to meet in the flower market. 
 When she went to bed that night, she said no word 
 of what had taken place to Ida, and slept sound, 
 with the nightingale's nocturne coming in at the 
 open windows with the scent of the flowers and 
 shrubs. 
 
 As for Alan, he and the lieutenant went away, 
 and had supper at Hiiberlein's, and talked over 
 beer merrily till the place closed, when they went 
 to the Griiner Baum, and had oysters, washing 
 them down with Lichtenhainer in wooden hooped 
 pots. At three the lieutenant went home to his 
 lodgings, and Alan walked up the hillside among 
 the woods in the dawn light to think over to him- 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE ARRANGEMENT. 279 
 
 self his new found almost miraculous ]0j_, until tlie 
 height of the sun told him it was time to go down 
 to the town to bathe in the river, and then go to 
 meet Nellie among the roses. 
 
 END, OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHIKLES DICKKWa ASTD EVAXS, CBISTAL PA.LA.CB PRESS. 
 
UNIVERSrTY OF ILUNO«-URBANA 
 
 I III Ml II 
 
 3 0112 076464780