W. H. SMITH & SON'S 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION LIBRARY, 
 ^^ 186, STRAND, LOTOON. 
 
 ^^O AT THE RA.UWAY BOOKSTALLS. 
 
 For TW 
 
 rmr"^^^i 
 
 L I B R. A R Y 
 
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 UNIVER.5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 P29wa 
 
 V. I
 
 WALTEK'S WORD.
 
 WALTEE'S WORD 
 
 % Wiabd, 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES PAYK, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "lost SIR MASSUfGBERD," " AT HER MERCY," ETC. ETC 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Tl^•SLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1875. 
 
 [All rights of Trantlation and Beproduction are reverted.]
 
 LOIfDOir: 
 
 RAVXS.L AND EDWABDS, PEINTEB3, CHANDOS STBEET, 
 
 COVENT GABDEN.
 
 
 TO 
 
 
 LESLIE STEPHEN, 
 
 ct 
 
 fxs goflk is ^jebitateb 
 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 JAMES PAYN.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/walterswordnovel01payn
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. IN THE SMOKING CARRU.GE 1 
 
 II. THE DAUNTLESS THREE 27 
 
 III. THE ARRIVAL 37 
 
 IV. PENADDON 55 
 
 V. MRS. Sheldon's revenge 80 
 
 VI. IN beech street 100 
 
 VII. MR. JOHN PELTEE AS MENTOR 123 
 
 VIII. THE ACADEMY CIRCULAR 135 
 
 IX. A FIRST BID 151 
 
 X. THE L'N'KNO'i^^' PATRON 167 
 
 XI. BARGAINLN'G 185 
 
 XII. LILY 196 
 
 Xin. THE COiDIISSION 217 
 
 XIV. Nellie's lover 231 
 
 XV. coming round 249 
 
 XVI- THE DEBT IS PAID 268 
 
 XVII. SIR REGINALD PROGRESSES 282
 
 WALTER'S WORD. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 IN THE SMOKING-CARRIAGE. 
 
 N" a quarter of an hour the mid- 
 day express will leave the termi- 
 nus at Paddington for the west, 
 and the platform is beginning to fill. Pater- 
 familias, with his mountains of lusfCTaore and 
 oceans of children, is already there. The 
 fidgety maiden lady who " always likes to 
 be in time," has been there ten minutes ago, 
 and has gone by mistake by " the parliamen- 
 tary" — a literal exemplification of " more 
 haste less speed," since it " shunts" at 
 Slough, to enable the express to pass. The 
 old gentleman who prefers to " start com- 
 fortably" is ensconced in his favourite corner 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 Walters Word. 
 
 of the carriage, has acquired his pile of 
 newspapers, seen his *' traps" put into the 
 next compartment, and with his head out of 
 window, and his travelling-cap upon it, is 
 urging the guard to signal " All right," 
 since there is surely nothing more to wait 
 for. The two nervous sisters, who, when 
 they must needs travel on "those horrid 
 railways," always do so together, that in 
 death they may not be divided, are sitting, 
 silent, hand in hand, hoping the best, and 
 expecting the worst : their advertisement, 
 addressed " To those who prefer the road to 
 the rail, and are willing to share the expenses 
 of posting to Exeter," having met with no 
 response : they were ''journey proud," and 
 could eat no breakfast ; but they have some 
 sandwiches in a hand-bag, of which they 
 will partake at Swindon, when the train 
 (thank Heaven !) is stationary for ten 
 minutes, and all danger, save that of being 
 run into, is temporarily suspended : as for 
 getting out, that is out of the question, for 
 these horrible trains never wait for ladies, 
 and they would be sure to be left behind. 
 The bride and bridegroom about to pass 
 their hone3^moon in Devonshire have also
 
 In the Smoking Carriage. 3 
 
 come, with the intention of securing a coupe, 
 and are very much disgusted to find that 
 there is no such carriage to be had ; Charles, 
 who has three hundred pounds a year in the 
 Customs, is half disposed to take a compart- 
 ment to themselves ; a design which Ange- 
 lina (already wife-like) combats on the 
 reasonable score of expense ; it is true that 
 there is one carriage with a door in the middle, 
 but the gentleman departing quietly from 
 his creditors is already in possession of its 
 most secluded corner, and they come upon 
 him unawares with a mutual shock. As for the 
 business-men, to whom time (they say) is "such 
 an object ;" and the young gentlemen who 
 never hurry themselves; and theyounggentle- 
 men who think it fine " to shave the train ;" 
 and the ladies who " never have a notion of 
 what o'clock it is" — these will not be here 
 for the next twelve minutes, if they are so 
 fortunate as to arrive in time at all. Of 
 young gentlemen, indeed, there are but two 
 as yet arrived, and these two of the very 
 class that you would have expected to be 
 among the latest. They are both well 
 dressed, though one more fashionably than 
 the other; they are of too tender years 
 
 1—3
 
 4 Walters Word, 
 
 (unless they have been very " imprudent") 
 to have any domestic ties, since, in the eye 
 of the law, one is little more than " an 
 infant," and the other only his senior by a 
 few years ; and they are in a smoking- 
 carriage, which at present they have all to 
 themselves. The anomaly of their being so 
 much before their time seems to strike the 
 younger of the two as it does ourselves, for 
 he removes his pipe to remark : " I hope you 
 have brought me here early enough, Selwyn ; 
 you did not use to be so punctual in your 
 college days, if I remember right : I suppose 
 it is the discipline of the Crimea which has 
 effected the reform." 
 
 " Well, you see, old fellow, with a game- 
 arm" (his left arm is in a sling) " and a game- 
 leg" (he has limped across the platform 
 with the aid of his friend, it must be owned 
 without much difficulty), " one feels a little 
 helpless ; and hurry and bustle are to a poor 
 cripple like myself " 
 
 " My dear fellow," interrupts the other 
 effusively, his comely face blushing to the 
 roots of his brown beard, " don't say another 
 word ; I am ashamed of myself for having 
 forgotten your misfortune even for an
 
 In the Smoking Carriage. 
 
 instant. I ought to have four legs myself — 
 to be such a brute." 
 
 He leans across and pats the knee of the 
 uninjured leg of his companion, an affec- 
 tionate impulse strange to behold in one of 
 his muscular and manly appearance, and 
 which evidences, one would say, a very 
 tender heart. He has not been thoughtless 
 in his acts, in spite of that little verbal slip, 
 for he has not only seen to everything, but 
 taken as much care to make the other com- 
 fortable, as though he were a sick child. If 
 he showed impatience about the train, he 
 shows it now in a much greater degree with 
 himself, twisting threads of his silken beard 
 as though he would tear them out, and 
 looking volumes of penitence out of his large 
 soft brown eyes. " What an idiot I am,'' 
 he mutters : "a man that would say things 
 like that" (he is referring to his malapropos 
 observation) " would say anything, and steal 
 the coppers from a blind man's tray. 
 
 His companion, quite unconscious of these 
 ejaculations, is gazing out of window, watch- 
 ing the platform as it fills with its hurrying 
 throng : a photographer would have an ex- 
 cellent chance of taking him, so intent is his
 
 6 Walter's Word. 
 
 expression of interest, and this is the portrait 
 that would result. A lean, dark face, with 
 well-formed and what is called speaking 
 features ; the mouth hard when at rest, but 
 capable of much expression, and improved 
 rather than otherwise by its delicate black 
 moustache ; the eyes large and lustrous, but 
 without the softness that is the characteristic 
 of his friend's ; the nose aquiline, the fore- 
 head high : altogether a very handsome face, 
 nor marred — to the female eye at least — by 
 a certain haughtiness of aspect. When we 
 add (for so far does he lean out of window 
 that we get a ^* quarter-length") of him that 
 his left arm lies in a sling, it is clear that he 
 must needs present an image as dangerous 
 to woman's heart as he did but a few months 
 back to England's foes, when, with that 
 reckless few, he flew across the cannon-swept 
 plain of Balaklava, and sabred the Eussians 
 at their guns. 
 
 "By Jupiter, there she is!" cried he ex- 
 citedly, and beckoning with eager joy to 
 some one in the passing throng. 
 
 "What!" exclaims his companion, in a 
 tone of astonishment; "surely not your " 
 
 " Yes, it's Lotty," interrupts the other, in
 
 In the Smohing Carriage. 
 
 a tone which has triumph in it as well as 
 pleasure. "You don't know what a trump she 
 is. I thought my letter would " fetch" her. 
 — Why, my darling, this is kind." 
 
 These last words were addressed to a young 
 girl of singular beauty, who had hurried up, 
 at his signal to the carriage-door ; she was 
 tall and well shaped, with a head crowned by 
 bright brown hair, and " a love of a bonnet," 
 with delicate blonde features, that spoke of 
 gentle tendance and refinement, and with 
 her air and attire breathing of luxury and 
 the power that belongs to wealth. The ex- 
 pression of this young woman's face, as she 
 caught sight of the wounded soldier, was 
 (when we consider these attributes) a marvel 
 to behold. If she had been a slave, and he 
 a prince, nay, if she had been a Eussian serf, 
 and he the Czar, her king and priest in one, 
 it could not have expressed a more devoted 
 and submissive admiration. An instant be- 
 fore, she had been moving with stately 
 dignity, and that consciousness of superiority 
 to those about her — consciousness of having 
 more of '' style," that is, and being better 
 dressed — of which women are so demonstra- 
 tive, and now, having suddenly darted
 
 8 Walters Word, 
 
 through the crowd like a boy after a dropped 
 apple— she is standing by the carriage door, 
 flushed, palpitating, and speechless, with her 
 right hand clasped in his, as though defying 
 steam-power itself to part them. 
 
 " This is veri/, very good of you," con- 
 tinued the captain tenderly. 
 
 " Good of me, Eeggie ! why, when you 
 
 wrote " Then she stopped, and the liush 
 
 mounted to her brow, as she saw for the first 
 time that she and her lover were not alone. 
 
 " That's only Litton, ray dear," explained 
 the captain assuringly ; " you've often heard 
 me speak of Walter Litton." 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed," said she, with a sweet 
 smile, as she disengaged her hand from 
 Selwyn's grasp, and offered it to his friend : 
 *' his name is very familiar to me — and 
 welcome." 
 
 " It was now Mr. Litton's turn to blush, 
 and he did so very thoroughly. He had 
 by no means so much confidence in his own 
 merits — perhaps he had none, as he had 
 certainly no wounded arm to show in proof 
 of them — as his companion ; in his eyes, 
 every woman was hedged about with a 
 certain divinity ; and one so beautiful and
 
 In the Smoking Carriage. 9 
 
 winning as this sweet-voiced girl, he thought 
 he had never beheld before. He was a 
 painter, not only by profession, but by 
 natural calling, and beauty, whether in face 
 or landscape, had a marvellous charm for 
 him. Moreover, as this face flashed upon 
 him, it had begotten the thought : " If I 
 were a favourite of Fortune instead of a 
 penniless painter, and might make bold to 
 ask her for the hig^hest bliss she could 
 bestow on mortal, I would ask her for this 
 woman to be my wife." The wish died in 
 its birth, for he instantly remembered that 
 her love was plighted to his friend ; but for 
 all that, his soul was lost in glamour, his 
 ready tongue was for the moment bewitched, 
 when she made him that gracious speech. 
 
 " Walter is modest, and you overcome 
 him," said the captain pleasantly. Then he 
 whispered in her bent- down ear : " How I 
 wish, my darling, you were coming with 
 me to-day, instead of bidding me good-bye 
 for heaven knows how long.^" 
 
 "Ah, how I wish I were I" was the 
 hushed response, and the tears rushed to 
 her eyes. 
 
 In the silence that followed, the harsh
 
 10 Walter's Word. 
 
 platform bell began to knell, and the warn- 
 ing voice : " All take your seats for tiie 
 south," rang hoarsely out. " To have seen 
 me but for these fleeting moments is scarce 
 worth the pain, Lotty." 
 
 "Oh yes, it is well worth it," answered 
 she, no longer able to prevent the pearly 
 tears falling one by one down her now pale 
 cheeks. " It is something to think of after- 
 wards." 
 
 " Look here !" cried the captain eagerly ; 
 " why not come with us as far as Eeading ? 
 you will just catch the up-express there, and 
 be back in town before six. ^None but 
 Lilian need ever know." 
 
 A looli of troubled joy came into her face. 
 " How nice that would be," murmured she ; 
 " but then " 
 
 " Now, miss, you must please stand back," 
 said the platform guard; "the train is 
 moving." 
 
 " This lady is coming with us," exclaimed 
 the captain quickly ; and before a word of 
 remonstrance could pass her lips, the door 
 was opened, the oflBcial handed her deftly 
 in, and the train glided softly past the 
 lingering crowd of those who had come to
 
 In the Smoking Carriage, 11 
 
 say " good-bye," and to which she herself 
 had a moment before belonged. 
 
 " Oh, Eeggie," exclaimed the girl in 
 frightened accents, as the train steamed out 
 of the station, and the full consciousness of 
 her audacity smote upon her for the first 
 time. " And it's a smoking-carriage too !" 
 
 " Not nowj' said Walter Litton, smiling, 
 as he emptied out oF the window the pipe 
 which he had held concealed in his hand 
 from the moment of her appearance. 
 
 " Oh, I am so sorry," said she earnestly. 
 " I don't at all object to smoking ; I rather 
 like it." 
 
 " You mean, you like to see others smoke," 
 observed the captain, laughing. * " Well, 
 you shall see vie. Litton had only a pipe — 
 the contents of which were, moreover, almost 
 exhausted — but it really would be a sacri- 
 fice to throw away a cigar like this." 
 
 "You're a naughty, selfish man," said 
 Lotty, with such a loving stress upon each 
 adjective, that you might have imagined she 
 was eulogizing the dead. 
 
 " My dear, the doctors recommend it," 
 answered the captain mildly : " all our men 
 that have been badly hit — unless they were
 
 12 Walters Word. 
 
 shot through the jaw — were enjoined to 
 smoke the best tobacco, and very often." 
 
 " Poor fellows !" ejaculated Lotty pity- 
 ingly. " I am sure they deserve the best of 
 everything." 
 
 " One of them has ^ot the best of every- 
 thing," whispered the captain — " at least, so 
 far as Eeading." 
 
 Lott}^ sighed. 
 
 " I believe I was very wrong to come, 
 Eeggie; the people stared so at me as we 
 came out of the station. What must they 
 have thought?" 
 
 " The people always do stare," was the 
 contemptuous rejoinder ; " but I never heard 
 of their thinking." 
 
 " But I am afraid that it was wrong," 
 persisted she, " and that everybody must 
 think so. " Don't you think, Mr. Litton, 
 it was a wrong thing to do ?" 
 
 This was rather a poser; for Walter 
 Litton did think it was so ; as wrong a 
 thing, that is, as so exquisite a being as 
 Lotty was capable of; that is to say, he 
 thought it injudicious, rash, and a little 
 " fast :" a thing which, if he had been in 
 his friend's position, he would certainly not
 
 In the Smoking Carnage, 13 
 
 have permitted, far less have invited and 
 pressed a young lady to do. In his own 
 mind, he blamed the captain very much, 
 but he was not so bold as to say so : he felt 
 that that would be much more dangerous 
 than to blame Lotty herself. 
 
 " There can be no harm in it whatever," 
 answered he, " if, as Selwyn says, the up- 
 express can be caught so conveniently at 
 Eeading. Our train stops nowhere else, so 
 we cannot be intruded upon by strangers ; 
 otherwise, that would certainly be em- 
 barrassing. As it is, you go back to town 
 in the ladies' carriage, and no one need be 
 any the wiser." 
 
 There was no very high morality in this 
 speech of Walter Litton's, it must be 
 owned ; but let the reader (male) put him- 
 self in his place ; he could not call her " a 
 bold creature," and prophesy that harm 
 would come of it — like a woman. 
 
 Ko more questions of conscience were 
 put for his decision, and he hid himself at 
 once behind the broad sheet of his news- 
 paper, and left the lovers to themselves. It 
 was a somewhat wearisome situation for one 
 with so delicate a sense of what was due to
 
 14 Walter's Word. 
 
 his fellow- creatures ; for when he had read 
 one sheet, he had still to keep it up before 
 him for the sake of appearances, or rather in 
 order to ignore them. He did not "dare 
 turn the paper over : "the liberty of the 
 press" was denied to him. An accidental 
 glance had shown his two companions in 
 such very earnest converse, that their lips 
 seemed inclined to touch. He could not 
 well cry " Ahem, ahem !" before removing 
 the obstacle between them and him ; and so 
 he remained in durance. Stone walls, 
 however, do not a prison make, and much 
 less those of paper ; his thought was free, 
 though always within honest bounds of 
 licence. He thought no more of Lotty as 
 of one with whom he had fallen in love at 
 first sight, but as of a sister who had 
 become betrothed to his friend ; and of her 
 future. She was, he knew, the daughter 
 of some wealthy " self-made" man — Brown 
 by name, and something, he did not know 
 what, by trade — and that her father was set 
 determinately against the match. If he 
 himself had been in Brown's place, he 
 might (he owned) have been of the same 
 opinion; not because his friend was poor
 
 In the SmoHng Carriage. 15 
 
 (which was the obstacle in this case, Selwyn 
 had told him), but because he did not think 
 him likely to make a good husband. He 
 was a good friend — or at least Litton had 
 always persuaded himself so — genial, witty, 
 bold, an excellent companion, and a man 
 who had been a general favourite at college. 
 Yet it was said of him, that if a room, no 
 matter how many were its occupants beside 
 himself, had but one arm-chair in it, Selwyn 
 was sure to get it. 
 
 Now, in a friend, this might be over- 
 looked ; indeed it w^as so in Selwyn's case. 
 His friends, and Litton least of all, did not 
 grudge him the arm-chair, though he always 
 got it ; but in a husband this was not a 
 promising trait. It was unpleasant to 
 reflect on it. Half an hour before, AValter 
 would have been ashamed to have found 
 himself dwelling on " dear old Selwyn's" 
 little w^eaknesses ; but that was before he 
 had seen Lotfcy, his sister (you see), as he 
 was supposing her ; and, without doubt, 
 Selwyn had behaved very selfishly in 
 getting her to come to Eeading. There 
 were risks in it — none to him, but all to 
 her — such as he should not have allowed
 
 16 Walters Word. 
 
 her to run, and which, as her brother, he 
 (Litton) resented. Suppose she were to 
 miss the up-train, or her absence were dis- 
 covered at home, or some acquaintance were 
 to recognise her as she left the carriage at 
 Reading. Any one of these unpleasant 
 accidents might happen, and the con- 
 sequences to her might be very serious. 
 There was no knowing what a " self-made" 
 man (probably intensely " respectable") 
 might do, on hearing of such an escapade 
 in a member of his family ; it might be 
 even the cause of an estrangement between 
 them, though that, indeed, would be likely 
 to throw her into her lover's arms, which 
 was the very thing, perhaps, by-the-bye, that 
 
 Selwyn 
 
 " That is a pretty plan to impute to your 
 old friend," here interpolated the voice of 
 Conscience. " Why if this girl had not 
 been so uncommonly good-looking, and 
 taken your precious ' artistic^ fancy. Master 
 Walter Litton, you would never have 
 attained this lofty elevation of ideas : you 
 might have gone up a little way, I don't 
 deny, but not so high as all this. More- 
 over, it is a sheer assumption that anything
 
 In the Smoking Carriage. 17 
 
 like an elopement was contemplated. How 
 could Eeginald Selwyn know that this 
 young lady would come to the platform to 
 see him off to Cornwall ? The whole affair 
 was evidently the work of a moment ; and 
 yet you were about to attribute a design — 
 and a very mean one — to the lad who, when 
 you were schoolboys together, had often 
 stood between you and harm, and used his 
 three years of seniority, and the superior 
 strength that went with them, to your 
 advantage and succour; to your old chum 
 at college ; to the man who went down into 
 the Yalley of Death among those heroic 
 Six Hundred, and whose wounds should 
 be mouths to speak for him to the heart 
 of every fellow-countryman. For shame, 
 Master Walter!" 
 
 Something like this did really pass 
 through the young painter's mind, and 
 covered him with self-reproach ; and all this 
 time the two objects of his thoughts were 
 sitting hand in hand immediately opposite 
 to him, billing and cooing, but unseen, and 
 almost unheard. All that he knew, and 
 could not help knowing, was, that Selwyn 
 was pleading earnestly for something or 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 Walter's Word. 
 
 other — advocating some injudicious and 
 rash course of conduct, as was only too 
 likely — and that Lotty was objecting to it, 
 if those gentle tones of remonstrance could 
 be called objecting. 
 
 At last, as the train shot through a 
 station, with a whir like the rising of some 
 enormous pheasant, the captain observed 
 aloud : " Why, that's Twyford, isn't it ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Litton : " the next 
 station, I believe, is Eeading." 
 
 He took up his Brack// aw to see whether 
 this was the case ; but hardly had he begun 
 to peruse it before he uttered an exclama- 
 tion of horror : " Look here ; Selwyn, you 
 are quite wrong about the up-express : it 
 does not start from Eeading for the next 
 two hours." 
 
 " Are you sure, my dear fellow ? Let's 
 look. — Well, that's exceedingly inconvenient. 
 I can't imagine how I could have made such 
 a mistake." 
 
 " The only thing to be done," said 
 Walter, moved by Lotty's white and 
 frightened face, " is for us two to get out 
 also, and keep this young lady company ; our 
 time is no object, or, at least, none in com-
 
 In the Smoking Carriage. 19 
 
 parison with her staying at the station for 
 so long alone " 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind that'' interrupted 
 Lotty, in terrified tones ; '' but what am I 
 to do about papa? I shall not be back in 
 London till eis^ht o'clock. He will be 
 certain to find it all out — dear, dear 1" 
 
 " He will be quite certain, Lotty," said 
 Selwyn, with earnest gravity : " and this 
 necessitates the step to which 1 have been 
 trying to persuade you all along. This 
 mischance may be turned into the happiest 
 stroke of fortune, if you will only take my 
 advice ; and such an opportunity will 
 assuredly never happen again." 
 
 " Reggie, but I dare not. Dear papa 
 would never forsfive me." 
 
 " He will not forgive you for coming 
 down with me to Eeading and going back 
 again, and will keep a very tight hand on 
 you in future, you may be sure, Lotty ; but 
 he wil] forgive you if you don't go back at 
 all, when he finds there is no use in being in 
 a passion, since the mischief is done, and you 
 have become my wife." 
 
 " Your wife !" exclaimed Litton. '' You 
 must not do anything rash, Selwyn." 
 
 2—2
 
 20 Walter's Word. 
 
 " Easli ! no, quite the reverse, my good 
 fellow. This young lady has promised to 
 marry me sooner or lat^r; that has been 
 settled long ago, but her father will not 
 consent to it. He says 'never;' so it is no 
 more disobedient in her to marry me now 
 than it would be ten years hence. By this 
 lucky piece of imprudence, she will have 
 already offended him beyond measure ; her 
 life will henceforth be made a burden to her 
 under his roof. She can't possibly get back, 
 you see, without the most tremendous row ; 
 and after that, there would be the other 
 row, when we were married. Now, why 
 shouldn't we have the two rows in one, and 
 get it over for good and all? When the 
 knot is once tied, the old gentleman, per- 
 ceiving it is of no use to anathematize us, is 
 all the more likely to listen to reason." 
 
 '' But really, Selwyn, this is a most serious 
 step " 
 
 " Of course it is, my dear Litton," inter- 
 rupted the captain ; " it's the most important 
 step in the world just now, but only to two 
 people in it — to her and to me. Lotty is of 
 age, and can judge for herself." 
 
 To this speech, so significant in its tone.
 
 In the Smoking Carriage, 21 
 
 Walter Litton did not know what to reply. 
 The affair was certainly not his business, 
 nor did any valid objections to Selwyn's 
 arguments occur to him, save one — namely, 
 that the young lady in her present position, 
 separated from thoh^e who had the right to 
 give her good advice, and urged by one 
 whom she passionately adored, was not a 
 free agent. 
 
 " I don't know what to do for the best," 
 cried Lotty, wringing her hands. " Oh, why 
 was I so foolish as to get into the train '/' 
 
 "Kot foolish, darling, only so fond," 
 whispered the captain. " You acted as your 
 heart dictated, and that is a guide to which 
 it is always safe to trust. So far from 
 regretting your position, you should rejoice 
 that it has placed the happiness within our 
 grasp which sooner or later we had promised 
 ourselves. Life is too short for such pro- 
 crastination." 
 
 " Oh, what will papa say ?" sobbed Lotty, 
 uncomforted by this philosophy, but at the 
 same time obviously giving way to the 
 Ine^dtable, which in her idea was Captain 
 Reginald Selwyn. 
 
 "I can very easily guess, my darling,'*
 
 22 Walter's Word. 
 
 said he smiling. " There will be an erup- 
 tion of the volcano; burning lava — some 
 very strong language indeed — will stream 
 forth in every direction, and overwhelm the 
 solid Duncombe and his myrmidons. Then 
 after awhile there will be silence and calm. 
 The crater will cease to agitate itself; 
 ' What's done can't be undone,' it will sigh, 
 and nobody will be a penny the worse." 
 
 "A penny the worse," reiterated Litton 
 softly : " is it possible he is calculating upon 
 getting money with her ?" All his un- 
 charitable thoughts regarding his friend had 
 gathered strength again ; he could not 
 forgive him for taking advantage of this 
 girl's love and isolation. 
 
 " What will Lily say ?" sobbed Lotty, 
 after a long pause, during which the whistle 
 sounded shrilly, to proclaim their approach 
 to the station. 
 
 "She will say, *How lucky dear Lotty is to 
 have married the man of her choice. Shall 
 I ever have the like good fortune ?' And, 
 in the meantime, being the kindest-hearted 
 girl (save one) in the whole world, she will 
 employ herself in effecting a reconciliation 
 between your father and ourselves. Come,
 
 In the Smoking Carriage. 23 
 
 darlinor, the time has come for vour final 
 decision; be firm, be courageous " 
 
 ''Selwjn," interrupted Litton abruptly, 
 "there is one things that has been forgotten: 
 with whom is this young lady to reside 
 until you can procure a marriage licence? 
 Have you any female relative in Cornwall 
 who can receive her? Otherwise, the v\'hole 
 plan must needs fall to the ground ; that is 
 positively certain." 
 
 "You are as right as the Bank," said the 
 captain admiringl}'. " What a stickler you 
 are for the proprieties ; if it wasn^t for your 
 beard, vou would make a most excellent 
 chaperon ! Why, of course, I have thought 
 of a home for Lotty until she shall be mine. 
 My aunt Sheldon lives at Penaddon — that is 
 only a few miles from Falmouth, for which 
 we are bound, and quite as pretty ; you will 
 fill your portfolio there just as well " 
 
 " Xever mind rnej' interrupted Litton 
 impatiently. " Good heavens I as if any- 
 thing signified except this. But are you 
 sure of her getting a kind reception, a wel- 
 come ?" 
 
 " Yes, quite sure," answered the captain 
 decisively. " Mrs. Sheldon will do anything
 
 24 Walters Word. 
 
 for ine. We shall be married from her 
 house in the orthodox manner ; it will be 
 scarcely an elopement at all. See, here we 
 are at Eeading ; and to think that my own 
 darling is not going to leave me, neither now 
 nor ever !" 
 
 "0 dear! dear! what will poor Lily 
 say?" murmured Lotty, nestling, however, 
 close to her Eeginald, and evidently quite 
 resolved to stay there. 
 
 "Can we not telegraph to her?" inquired 
 Litton eagerly. 
 
 " What ! and tell her where we have 
 gone ?" cried the captain. " That would be 
 madness indeed." 
 
 "No, no; I mean to relieve her mind; to 
 let her know that her sister is safe and well. 
 Otherwise, they will think she has come to 
 harm." 
 
 " Oh, thanks, Mr. Litton," answered Lotty 
 gratefully ; "I should never have thought 
 of that." 
 
 " Litton thinks of everything," said the 
 captain laughing ; " he ought to be a courier 
 to a large family travelling on the Continent. 
 But seriously, it is an excellent thought ; 
 and as I am a cripple, and I daresay Lotty
 
 In the Smoking Carriage, 25 
 
 would find her pretty hand shake a bit under 
 existing circumstances, you shall telegraph 
 for us." 
 
 " Yes, but not home, Eeginald. Lily will 
 not be at home until five o'clock ; and some 
 one else might open it ; and no one must 
 tell poor papa, but Lily. She will be at 
 the drawing-class in George Street, you 
 know." 
 
 " Quite right. Then this is the telegram," 
 said the captain, dictating. " From Lotty, 
 Birmingham (that will put them far enough 
 off the scent), to JJiss Lilian Broicn, Ladies' 
 College, George Street. — / have gone away 
 with R. S. to his aunfs house. Your sister 
 icill he married to-morrow!' That will prevent 
 the telegraph clerk from taking particular 
 notice, as he would do if he thought we 
 were a runaway couple, and at the same 
 time convince them that all interference 
 will be too late. Say all you can for her to 
 her father. Her dear love to loth of you. 
 That you will forgive and not forget her, is her 
 prayer. Farewell . There is a deal more 
 than the twenty words there, but sentiment 
 is always expensive." 
 
 The messasre had been written while the
 
 26 Walter's Word. 
 
 train was slackening speed, and now they 
 had reached the platform. 
 
 Litton sprang out at once upon his 
 mission, which he had but just time to 
 accomplish, ere the engine began to snort 
 again. 
 
 " Some fellows wanted to get in here 
 while you were away," observed the captain, 
 on his return to the carriage ; " so I have 
 got the guard to stick an engaged board over 
 the window. It combines utility and truth, 
 you see, for it keeps us private, and exactly 
 describes the mutual relation of Lotty and 
 myself. Don't it, Lotty ?" 
 
 The captain had been mentioned in 
 despatches for his coolness.
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE DAUNTLESS THREE. 
 
 is Penaddon ?" asked 
 when the train was 
 I mean. 
 
 fHEPtE 
 
 Litton 
 
 once more on its way 
 how far is it from Ealmouth ?" 
 
 " Oh, weU, a good step : when I said a 
 few miles, I rather underrated the distance. 
 I should tliink it was t^venty miles. It is 
 on the south coast of Cornwall, near the 
 Lizard." 
 
 " Then there is no railway," observed the 
 other curiously. 
 
 " No ; but it is a goodish road, though 
 hilly ; and with four horses, we shall spin 
 along in a couple of hours." 
 
 •'* Is it a telegraph station ?" 
 
 " Yes, there's a telegraph ; but we can't 
 go by tliat^' said the captain sharply. 
 
 No ; but you can send word to your
 
 28 Walters Word. 
 
 aunt that you are coming. That you must 
 certainly do, Selwyn, for, with an hour's 
 stay at Plymouth for dinner, we shall not 
 arrive at our journey "s end at earliest before 
 one in the morning ; and it will, of course, 
 be necessary to make preparations for your 
 reception." 
 
 " Our chaperon is always right, Lotty ; 
 he shall telegraph at Swindon," said the 
 captain comfortingl}^ for the news that they 
 were to be so long on their way seemed to 
 have come on the poor girl quite unex- 
 pectedly, and once more she had dissolved 
 in tears. " You must tell my aunt the 
 state of the case, Litton; ask her to take 
 charge of Lotty, and also to secure a couple 
 of rooms for you and me at the little inn. 
 It's just the place for a painter — covered all 
 over with the blossoms of a great what-you- 
 may-call-it — a westeria (the branches of 
 which keep it from tumbling to pieces), and 
 looking on to the old castle." 
 
 " I hope there are not many people at 
 Penaddon. It is not a gay place, is it, 
 Eeginald ?" asked Lotty tearfully. 
 
 " Gay ! No, my darling," replied the 
 captain laughing. " My aunt Sheldon com-
 
 The Dauntless Three. 29 
 
 plains that she is buried alive there. Thei-e 
 is not a soul to speak to within five miles." 
 
 " I thought you said there was a castle." 
 
 " Yes ; but it has no roof to it. It is a 
 Eoman ruin. Even the church has fallen 
 to pieces, and half of it into the sea. There 
 is another church, however, built judiciously 
 more inland, in which marriage services are 
 no doubt performed upon occasion." 
 
 " What will }our aunt think of my coming 
 down like this, Eeggie ?" 
 
 " What will papa think ? What will Lily 
 think? What will your aunt think?" 
 mimicked the captain. '' Why, my dear 
 Lotty, you seem bent on collecting the 
 thoughts of all the family. As for Aunt 
 Sheldon, I promise you she will think no 
 worse of you for this little escapade, but 
 rather the better, for she made a runaway 
 match of it herself — and not so very long 
 ago neither." 
 
 Here Litton looked up quickly; his 
 friend's eyes were fixed on Lotty, but the 
 captain's foot came in significant contact 
 with his own, and gave it a warning 
 pressure. 
 
 "There is something wrong about Selwyn's
 
 30 Walters Word. 
 
 aunt," thought Walter. " Sheldon, Sheldon ! 
 surely I have heard that name before ;" and 
 presently he remembered where he /lad 
 heard it. Mrs. Sheldon might have made 
 a runaway match, but that was not the in- 
 cident in her married life which occurred to 
 his memory. He recollected her name as 
 having appeared in the Divorce Court in 
 connexion with a ''judicial separation." She 
 had applied for it herself, and obtained it ; 
 but still there had been circumstances, he 
 did not remember what, but which had 
 made an impression on him not to her ad- 
 vantage. She was not the sort of woman, 
 at all events, to whose house to bring a 
 young girl whose conduct required an 
 advocate who should herself be above the 
 suspicion of a stain. It was too late, how- 
 ever, to make any objections now, even if 
 one could ever have been made on such a 
 ground. Sixty miles were already between 
 Lotty and her home; an hour and a half 
 had elapsed which had placed her old life 
 and her new irrevocably apart. A less time 
 suffices to do as much for many of us. A 
 word spoken in the heat of hate ; a look 
 given — nay, suffered to escape — in the
 
 The Dauntless Three. 31 
 
 ardour of love; is often a Good-bye to all 
 our Past, and on its ruins Life begins once 
 more. 
 
 From Swindon, "the chaperon/' as the 
 captain had christened Walter, and as Lotty 
 herself now also termed him (for she was 
 fast recovering from her apprehensions and 
 anxieties), Litton telegraphed to Penaddon, 
 and, wdien they reached Exeter, to Falmouth 
 also, to order the carriage and posters to 
 meet them at the station, that not a moment 
 should be lost. He did not tell his com- 
 panions of his having taken this latter pre- 
 caution, since it would only have aroused 
 the captain's mirth; but, to Walter, every- 
 thing that seemed likely to conduce to 
 Lotty's comfort was of importance, and he 
 was quite content to do her service without 
 acknowledgment. It was he, of course, 
 since his friend was incapacitated by reason 
 of his honourable wounds, who procured 
 Lotty her railway ticket, provided them 
 wdth refreshments, and ordered their dinner 
 at the inn at Plymouth. In fact, as Eegi- 
 nald subsequently observed, it was Walter 
 who did the " billing," and he the " cooing" 
 throughout that journey. The former duty
 
 32 Walters Word. 
 
 required no little adroitness to avert public 
 attention from Lotty, for, despite all that 
 has been done for the independence of the 
 sex, it is still unusual for a young lady to 
 travel with two young gentlemen, neither 
 of whom are related to her, in an " engaged" 
 smoking-carriage. The interest of the pas- 
 sengers, who had somehow or other become 
 cognizant of this social anomaly in their 
 midst, was greatly excited by it, and most 
 of them, as they got out at their various 
 destinations, would stroll up the platform 
 to steal a look at " the dauntless three," as 
 the captain himself styled themselves. On 
 these occasions, not only did Walter con- 
 front the intruders with indignant coun- 
 tenance, and every hair in his beard brist- 
 ling defiance at one side-window, but he 
 built up on the other an eidolon, made of his 
 own and the captain's surplus travelling 
 gear, to obscure the view. At Plymouth, 
 too, he preceded them to the inn, and bespoke 
 a private room for the little party, whereby 
 he obtained a fleeting reputation of being 
 Lotty's husband. The waiter's powers of 
 observation were not so keen as those of the 
 chambermaid, who remarked at once that
 
 The Dauntless Three. 33 
 
 Lottj wore no wedding-ring, and built up a 
 little romance upon the circumstance ; the 
 heroine of which (as often happens in 
 romances) was, I am sorry to say, no better 
 than she should be. 
 
 AVhether anything of this was guessed by 
 Lotty, or that she had been made to feel in 
 any other way the embarrassment of her 
 position, it is certain, that so far from being 
 invigorated by her meal, her spirits had 
 deserted her when she entered the train 
 again ; and as dusk came on, the doubt of a 
 welcome from Mrs. Sheldon, and the cer- 
 tainty of the unhappiness that she had by 
 this time inflicted on those at home, 
 oppressed her mind in spite of her Eeginald's 
 efforts to enliven the way. 
 
 " Stare, my darling, of course the people 
 stare," he would explain in mitigation of her 
 discomfort ; " but it is only with admiration. 
 They see a Crimean hero and his sister — ■ 
 that is, a Sister of Mercy in attendance upon 
 him — also a young surgeon rising fast in 
 reputation but who has sacrificed his pro- 
 fessional prospects for the time, in order to 
 accompany his friend to a warmer climate. 
 It is quite an idj^ll of Hospital life." As 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 Walter's Word. 
 
 for the perturbation produced in the Brown 
 family, the gallant captain was sublimely 
 indifferent to it; and with respect to the 
 reception they were likely to get at 
 Penaddon, his knowledge of his aunt's 
 character, and of her liking for himself, 
 perhaps made him confident of a welcome. 
 At all events, his stoicism only once broke 
 down, which happened on their arrival at 
 Falmouth, where, in addition to the carriage- 
 and-four bespoken by Litton, they found a 
 considerable crowd attracted by that pheno- 
 menon. 
 
 "Well, I must say you have advertised 
 us pretty completely," was Eeginald's only 
 acknowledgment of his friend's forethought. 
 And certainly the remarks of the bystanders 
 were of a nature calculated to irritate an 
 invalid. That the four horses were ordered 
 for an elopement, the natives, it seemed, had 
 made up their minds, and from that stand- 
 point not even the presence of a third person 
 "could move them. They only adapted their 
 old theory (as men will) to suit the un- 
 expected fact, and exclaimed admiringly : 
 "Why, if she ain't a running away with 
 two of 'em !"
 
 The Dauntless Three. 35 
 
 The rest of the journey was melancholy 
 indeed; for however pleasant Dr. Johnson 
 may have found it in his time to travel by 
 post, he had no experience of what it is after 
 one has already come some three hundred 
 miles by railway ; it rained unceasingly too, 
 for the first hour, so that, though the moon 
 was at her full, there was little to be seen 
 from the windows of the carriage, and when 
 it grew clear, the country was no longer 
 picturesque. They had no more, it is true, 
 to toil like Sisyphus up one hill-side only to 
 descend another, but their way lay over 
 bleak and barren moors, swept by a wind 
 that seemed resolute to oppose their passage 
 and in whose hiss and moan poor Lotty, 
 though her hand was clasped in Eeginald's, 
 heard many a warning and remonstrant 
 voice. At last there fell upon their ears 
 that sound, which has no other like to it in 
 nature, the roaring of an angry sea; and 
 the captain let down the window, and bade 
 Lotty look out. Around them and before 
 them, for they were on a high-set pro- 
 montory, spread the moonlit sea, wild and 
 white with wrath as far as eye could reach, 
 and beneath them a spectral ruin. 
 
 3—2
 
 36 Walters Word. 
 
 "This is Penaddon Castle, Lotty, in which, 
 as you may observe for yourself, no county 
 family resides at present. The light down 
 yonder is from the Hall, which shows that 
 hospitable preparation has been made for 
 your reception. The scene looks a little 
 ghastly by this light ; but, to-morrow, you 
 will own that you never saw a prettier place, 
 nor one, I hope, in which you were so happy;" 
 and utterly ignoring Walter's presence, who 
 knew not where to look, he kissed her.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL. 
 
 HE carriage here began rapidly to 
 descend, and passing under a gate- 
 way, and through a wilderness of 
 shrubs and laurels, drew up before a flight 
 of stone steps. 
 
 Litton knew, of course, that they had 
 stopped at the front-door of the Hall, and 
 was all anxiety to note how his companions 
 were received. His quick eye had observed, 
 even in that uncertain light, that the gate- 
 way was not only old, but crumbling to its 
 fall; that the shrubbery showed no tokens 
 of the gardener's care ; and that the steps 
 were chipped and broken. The whole place 
 was evidently poverty-stricken ; but it was 
 not poverty — just then — that he feared 
 upon Lotty's account. He was anxious to
 
 38 Walte7''s Word, 
 
 see what sort of guardian Selwyn had pro- 
 vided for her in his aunt. The door opened, 
 and an old man-servant appeared, and came 
 slowly down the steps, at the top of which, 
 with a lamp in her hand, stood a tall dark 
 woman, gazing at them intently. 
 
 " That's my aunt," whispered the captain, 
 jumping out, notwithstanding his game-leg, 
 and running up to her. She did not move 
 towards him a hairbreadth, nor even hold 
 out her hand. Then a question and answer 
 were, as it seemed, rapidly exchanged — and, 
 to Walter's extreme relief, a smile broke out 
 upon the hostess's face, and she came swiftly 
 down to the carriage-door. She was only 
 just in time, for poor Lott}^ in an agony of 
 grief and shame, had almost fainted away ; 
 it had seemed to her that Mrs. Sheldon was 
 about to refuse her admittance. 
 
 " What a journey you have had, my dear, 
 and how tired you must be !" were that 
 lady's first words, uttered in a sweet and 
 sympathetic, though, as it seemed to Walter, 
 a somewhat ajffected tone. " However, you 
 have reached home at last." 
 
 She held out her arms, gracefully, almost 
 theatrically, in welcome, and Lotty fairly
 
 The Arrival. 39 
 
 threw herself into them, and burst into 
 tears. She had not kno.wn till then how- 
 much, how very much, she stood in need of 
 womanly countenance and succour. 
 
 " Welcome to Penaddon, my dear,'* said 
 Mrs. Sheldon, this time, as it seemed, with 
 genuine tenderness. " And welcome to you, 
 sir," added she, to Walter, extending to 
 him graciously her unoccupied hand. The 
 pose of her tall, well-rounded figure was 
 magnificent, nor did she seem at all em- 
 barrassed by the weeping girl who hung 
 upon her shoulder. — " Who is this gentle- 
 man, Eeginald ? You have not introduced 
 us," said she, pointing to Walter. 
 
 " Oh, it's only our courier." 
 
 "Yonr courier f exclaimed Mrs. Sheldon 
 indignantly. 
 
 " Yes ; our courier, our chaperon, our 
 gooseberry-picker, our all. Is he not, 
 Lotty ?— Mr. Walter Litton.'^ 
 
 Even Lotty could not refrain from 
 laughing — though, truth to say, it was in a 
 half-hysterical way ; and Mrs. Sheldon, not 
 uninfluenced, perhaps, by Walter's comely 
 looks, took her nephew's mischievous joke 
 in high good-humour. As she led the way
 
 40 Walters Word. 
 
 from the hall into the dining-room, with 
 Lotty on her arm, Walter could not help 
 remarking how like aunt and nephew were ; 
 the lean fine-featured face, the bright but 
 somewhat unsympathetic eyes, the hard yet 
 mobile mouth, were common to both ; and 
 if the woman was not so handsome for 
 a woman as the man was for a man, it 
 was only because time had laid its inexor- 
 able finger on the former's charms. She 
 was still young — that is, for a married 
 woman — not more than five-and-thirty at 
 the most ; but there were lines about her 
 face which spoke of trouble past and 
 present ; and now and again her mouth 
 would shape itself, as it seemed uncon- 
 sciously, into a painful smile. 
 
 Her manners were perfect, however, and 
 the tact with which she ignored the em- 
 barrassing position in which all were placed, 
 was worthy of Talleyrand. 
 
 *' I have provided nothing, Eeginald, but 
 tea and cofiee and cold chicken," said she, 
 pointing to the table, which was laid for 
 supper, " because I knew that this dear girl 
 of yours would have no relish for a heavier 
 meal. What she wants more than anything
 
 The Arrival. 41 
 
 else are rest and quiet ; and as for you two 
 gentlemen, you will find fare more suited to 
 your taste at the inn. You will think me 
 very inhospitable, I fear, Mr. Litton, 
 but " 
 
 " I think you very wise, madam," inter- 
 rupted Walter, earnestly. " In my opinion, 
 Selwyn and myself ought to be off to our 
 quarters at once. We must have kept up 
 the good people at the inn already long past 
 their usual time." 
 
 " Oh, bother the good people at the inn '" 
 said the captain disdainfully, as he helped 
 Lotty to a cup of tea. 
 
 " Yes ; and that is just what you ivill do, 
 Eeginald, if you don't get there till two 
 o'clock in the morning/' rejoined his hostess. 
 " Moreover, the later you arrive, the greater 
 will be their surprise, and the more they'll 
 talk about the matter ; and for the present, 
 it is just as well that they should not talk 
 about it. I have sent my own maid to bed, 
 lest the spectacle of a young lady's advent 
 without so much as a hand-bag in the w^ay 
 of luggage, should stimulate her curiosity. 
 The idea "■ — here she turned to Lotty — " of 
 your travelling about the country, my dear.
 
 42 Walters Word. 
 
 with two portmanteaus warranted solid 
 leather, and a couple of hat-boxes, is some- 
 thing too ridiculous. — You can't touch a 
 bit, you think ? Well, of course you can't, 
 while this veteran from the wars, of whom 
 you must have got thoroughly tired by this 
 time, stands sentry over you in that way. — 
 Come, sir ; you are an invalid yourself, and 
 must not keep late hours. Bid her good 
 night, and be off to your inn." 
 
 Eeginald said his ^'good-bye" to Lotty, 
 accordingly — a very decorous one, and then 
 Walter offered his hand. 
 
 " I shall never forget your kindness, Mr. 
 Litton," said she softly. The words, and 
 still more the tone, thrilled through him 
 with a strange pain. How beautiful she 
 looked, and yet how pitiful; far from her 
 home and all, save one, that loved her. No ; 
 there was a second person, wlio did not 
 indeed love her, because she was plighted to 
 another, but who had devoted himself heart 
 and soul to her interest ; one whom her 
 very sighs had troubled, and whom her 
 tears had smitten like drops of molten lead. 
 Would it ever be kis future, he wondered, 
 to be loved, as his friend was, and by such a
 
 The Arrival. 43 
 
 paragon ? No, alas ; for tliere could be no 
 two Lotties in the world. 
 
 "Good-night, Mr. Courier." It was his 
 hostess who was addressing him for the 
 second time, and with that pinched smile 
 about her lips which is the outward sign of 
 woman's cynicism. " Why, you seem to 
 take parting from your charge almost as 
 much to heart as Eeginald himself. I feel 
 as if I were the angel commissioned to turn 
 you both out of Paradise." 
 
 " You look like the angel," observed the 
 captain, gallantly, " and I leave my Lotty 
 with confidence under your fostering wings. 
 Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night, irreverent boy ; and re- 
 member, we do not receive company to- 
 morrow morning before eleven o'clock, at 
 earliest. — This poor child is utterly done 
 up," she added in a whisper : " girls took to 
 elopements in my time very differently." 
 
 "Like ducklings to water, eh?" laughed 
 the captain. 
 
 " Go away, sir ; for shame ! — Good-night, 
 Mr. Courier." 
 
 " I tell you what, Litton," said Selwyn, 
 when they had re-entered the carriage, and
 
 44 Walters Word. 
 
 it was moving rapidly towards the inn; 
 " youVe regularly ' fetched' Aunt Sheldon." 
 
 "Fetched your aunt Sheldon?" 
 
 " Yes ; made a conquest of her, man, I 
 mean. If you had not been with us, I 
 doubt if she would have been half as civil." 
 
 " Upon my life, Selwyn, I thought she 
 was not going to be civil at all, when you 
 first spoke to her on the steps. What cake 
 did you throw to Cerberus that made things 
 at once so pleasant ? She knew you had 
 eloped, of course ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but she didn't know with whom." 
 
 " But you couldn't have explained every- 
 thing in that quarter of a minute — who the 
 young lady was, and all that ?" 
 
 " Oh, she knew about Lotty well enough; 
 but she was not certain that it was Lotty." 
 
 " But who else could it have been ?" in- 
 quired Walter, aghast. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," laughed the 
 captain ; " nor more did she. That was her 
 little difficulty. She would never have 
 countenanced the affair, you see, unless she 
 had approved of my choice for material 
 reasons. She has a very sharp eye to the 
 main chance — has Aunt Sheldon. By-the-
 
 The Arrival, 45 
 
 hye, I never call her aunt, nor must you 
 hint at my being her nephew. Her little 
 weakness is to belong to the rising genera- 
 tion, not to the elder one. And, indeed, 
 there are not so many years between us, 
 though she is scarcely in her premiere 
 jeujiesseT 
 
 Litton remained silent : he was stricken 
 dumb by the thought of the risk that 
 Lotty's reputation had incurred; of the 
 chance, however small, that had existed of 
 her finding the doors of Penaddon Hall 
 closed against her. From one point of 
 view, indeed, now that all had turned out 
 right, this was satisfactory, since it showed 
 that Mrs. Sheldon did draw the line of pro- 
 priety .somewhere. But what a hard and 
 fast line it was ! "What misery and disgrace 
 might have resulted from this woman's 
 " No !" And she looked quite capable of 
 saying "No" upon occasion, and of sticking 
 to it. That hint about " material reasons " 
 too, jarred upon the young painter's ear. 
 It was evident that Lotty's expectations — 
 the fact, that is, of her being a rich man's 
 daughter — were known of old to Mrs. 
 Sheldon; had probably been debated be-
 
 46 Walters Word. 
 
 tween herself and Selwyn ; and again the 
 suspicion, he had more than once enter- 
 tained that day, flashed on him, that the 
 whole affair in which he had himself played 
 so prominent though involuntary a part, 
 was not the result of a momentary impulse, 
 as it had appeared to be, but was designed 
 by the captain from the first. And yet, 
 that could hardly have been, unless Lotty 
 had been a party to it ; and Walter could 
 never, never believe that. It was impossible 
 that that touching conflict between Love 
 and Duty, of which he had been a witness, 
 that maidenly hesitation, those regretful 
 tears, could have been acted by any girl; 
 and above all, it was impossible — he would 
 stake his life upon it — that this particular 
 one could have stooped to such deception. 
 Lotty was simplicity itself, and but that her 
 tenderness for her lover outweighed all other 
 considerations, the very last girl in the 
 world to have made what the vulgar call a 
 runaway match. How shocking, how cruel, 
 would be the verdict passed even now upon 
 this sweet innocent creature, for that indis- 
 cretion ; and once more he shuddered to 
 think of what it would have been had Mrs.
 
 The Arrival. 47 
 
 Sheldon refused her countenance to her. 
 He felt as though he could have laid down 
 his life, if that might have shielded her 
 from the breath of evil report, for those 
 gracious words of parting that still rang in 
 his tingling ears ; " I shall never forget 
 your kindness, Mr. Litton," seemed to have 
 paid him, as it were, in advance, for any 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Oh, great and wonderful is the power of 
 woman's beauty over the heart of man ! 
 Old or young, married or single — for though 
 it blooms not for ourselves, it is still passing 
 sweet — we all alike acknowledge its sway. 
 Man has no social gift to compare with it ; 
 for man's comeliness is not in woman's eyes 
 what woman's comeliness is in man's. A 
 young girl who is beautiful is a princess, to 
 whom the knee of every male is bowed 
 in allegiance, either openly or in secret ; 
 and those who aifect to be indifferent to her, 
 are often her most abject slaves. It is but 
 skin deep, this beauty, we are told; but 
 what more is majesty ? It must fail and 
 fade — that is also true, alas — but while it 
 lasts, no matter though it be in the humblest, 
 what potentialities — what possibilities abide
 
 48 Walters Word, 
 
 in it ! Think of that, my friends, when 
 you are about to sneer at her in whom it is 
 fading : who feels the power she once wielded 
 slipping from her passionate clutch, who 
 cries with Arthur, "Authority deserts the 
 dying king," and yet who must needs live 
 and behold others usurp her place ; think, I 
 say, of the wretchedness of the woman who 
 has staked all upon those fading charms, 
 and has lost, since she has failed to win, and 
 pity her. 
 
 " Here is the Wheatsheaf at last," ex- 
 claimed Selwyn, as the carriage stopped. 
 "Did you ever see such a jolly inn?" By 
 the adjective "jolly" the captain was wont 
 to describe anything that was good of its 
 kind — a jolly girl, a jolly row, a jolly 
 lobster — but in this particular case he used 
 it in an artistic sense. 
 
 The Wheatsheaf was undeniably pic- 
 turesque. So entirely had the plant of 
 which he had spoken taken possession of 
 the whole edifice with its spreading branches, 
 that it looked more like a house in a tree, 
 than a dwelling overgrown with vegetation. 
 The purple blossoms, that covered it as 
 thickly as peaches grow on a sunny wall,
 
 The Arrival. 49 
 
 had a beautiful though weird effect in the 
 moonlight ; and so protected was the nook 
 in which the little inn was situated that not 
 a blossom stirred, though the wind could be 
 heard still roaring on the moor above, almost 
 as fiercely as the waves beat upon the 
 neighbouring shore. The house stood with 
 its back to the spot upon which fro^vned the 
 old Eoman ruin, gaunt and straggling ; and 
 to the left of it, at a slightly lower level, 
 was dimly seen another edifice, also in 
 decay — the church which had succumbed to 
 the encroaching sea. 
 
 The visitors were ushered to their apart- 
 ments — small and plainly furnished rooms 
 enough, but of exquisite cleanliness — and 
 presently came down to supper, for which 
 they by no means manifested the disrelish 
 which their fair companion had shown. 
 When the table had been cleared, and the 
 waiter dismissed to his long-wished-for bed, 
 the two young men sat over their tobacco — 
 the captain, as before, smoking his cigar, 
 the painter his pipe — and discussed the 
 day's events, with which the former ex- 
 pressed himself as more than satisfied. 
 
 " If my dear Lotty has a fault," said he, 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 Walters Word. 
 
 complacently., " it is indecision, and it is 
 most fortunate that circumstances have thus 
 decided /or her. In a few days we shall be 
 married; and even as it is, matters have 
 gone too far, thank goodness, for anyinter- 
 ference of her family with her happiness. 
 If ' Napoleon in person,' as the war histories 
 magnificently put it, should descend upon 
 us — if old Brown himself should come to 
 Penaddon, she would now become Mrs. 
 Selwyn in despite of him. — This is very 
 tolerable sherry to find at such an Ultima 
 Thule. Let us drink the old curmudgeon's 
 health, and a speedy reconciliation with his 
 ofi"spring." 
 
 " By all means, my dear Selwyn," said 
 Walter, filling his glass. " But suppose he 
 refuses to be reconciled, and disinherits 
 her?" 
 
 " Let us hope better things," answered 
 the captain. 
 
 *'I do hope them, most sincerely, most 
 warmly, my dear fellow ; but one must not 
 shut one's eyes to what may happen, merely 
 because it is very unpleasant. It is much 
 better to look the worst in the face — while 
 there is yet time to avert the worst."
 
 The Arrival. 51 
 
 "I don't understand jou, Litton/' said 
 the captain, speaking with the unnecessary 
 distinctness which suggests that particular 
 state of mind which ladies call " temper." 
 "I am sure you do not intend to imply 
 that there is a possibility of my retracing 
 this step. If I were inclined to think of 
 such a thing on my own account — to 
 sacrifice, that is, my own happiness to this 
 old man's will, to forego the advantage I 
 have gained, and once more put myself in 
 the position of a suppliant to him — I say, if 
 I were inclined to humiliate myself to that 
 extent (which is not to be thought of), still 
 it is wholly out of the question that Lotty' 
 can return to her home, after what has 
 taken place to-day, unless as my wife." 
 
 " But can you maintain her as your wife 
 — that is, as your wife ought to be main- 
 tained, my good fellow ? We are very old 
 friends, you and I, Eeginald : you cannot 
 imagine that I have anything but your own 
 interest, and that of your destined bride's, at 
 heart. I know your circumstances. The 
 question is : How are you to live ?" 
 
 *' That is our look-out — or at least mine, 
 my good friend. And, at all events, the 
 
 4 — 2 
 
 LIbK/srti 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF iLUNOfS
 
 52 Walters Word. 
 
 question — though I grant it is a pertinent 
 one — comes a little late." 
 
 "That is true, Selwyn. All that I 
 meant was, would it not be easier to con- 
 ciliate your future father-in-law before you 
 have absolutely set him at defiance ? His 
 daughter is at your aunt's house — the 
 match is so far countenanced by your 
 family : is not that a vantage-ground from 
 which you could treat with this old gentle- 
 man with a better grace, than after having 
 utterly cast off his authority? Consider, 
 too, with how much lighter a heart, with 
 what an infinite increase of happiness, the 
 girl of your choice would go to the altar, 
 could this cloud of parental displeasure be 
 dispelled beforehand !" 
 
 "No, Litton," returned the other posi- 
 tively ; " you don't know this old fellow as 
 J do. He is as hard as nails, where he can 
 be hard ; but he has sufficient common- 
 sense, I think, to make the best of a bad 
 job — which is the term he will no doubt 
 apply to my becoming his son-in-law. I 
 shall be able to make a better bargain with 
 him when I possess that locus standi, and I 
 mean to have it. Of course, the present
 
 The Arrival, 53 
 
 position is very unpleasant for us all round. 
 People will say hard things even of your- 
 self, to whose friendly help we are both so 
 much indebted, for having ' aided and 
 abetted' this young lady to leave the 
 paternal roof You will be like the second 
 in a duel, who gets all the odium, and none 
 of the glory." 
 
 " Oh, never mind me'' said Walter 
 impatiently. " I was thinking of somebody 
 else. I was thinking," added he hastily, 
 his face growing crimson as he spoke one of 
 the few falsehoods his lips had ever uttered, 
 " of your aunt, who will certainly come in 
 for her share of discredit." 
 
 " Oh, never mind my aunt," returned the 
 captain contemptuously. " Beatty Sheldon 
 (her name is Beatrice) is not unaccustomed 
 to the censure of society, and cares about it 
 as little as any one I know. . She is a real 
 good plucked one, whatever her faults, and 
 not likely to give way to clamour. By 
 Jove ! I wish we had her at the Horse 
 Guards, instead of some other old women I 
 could mention." 
 
 Walter sighed, and took up his bed- 
 candle ; there was nothing more to be said,
 
 54 Walter s Word. 
 
 he knew. WhateTer slender hope he 
 might have entertained of inducing his 
 friend to make an effort, even now, to gain 
 his intended father-in-law's consent to his 
 marriage, and therewith some provision, 
 however small, for Lotty's future, had 
 utterly died away. What Selwyn had 
 hinted, too, of Mrs. Sheldon's past was not 
 calculated to dispel his doubts as to the 
 suitability of that lady for a young girl's 
 chaperon, in the present circumstances. 
 He regretted much that his accidental 
 companionship with the captain had made 
 him an involuntary actor in that day's 
 doings ; but not, as he had truly said, from 
 any apprehension of what the world might 
 say of them or of him : he regretted it 
 because he had seen Lotty — ^the brightest, 
 fairest sight that his eyes had ever lit upon, 
 her face the sweetest his painter's fancy had 
 ever pictured, her voice the tenderest his 
 ears had heard. He regretted it because he 
 had seen Lotty, yet was forbidden by cruel 
 Pate to love her, because she was the 
 betrothed of his friend.
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 PEN AD DON 
 
 X spite of his long travel of tlie 
 previous day, Walter Litton was 
 up betimes on tlie morning after 
 his arrival at Penaddon. Not so the 
 captain, who, since the sight of his destined 
 bride had been forbidden to him till eleven 
 o'clock, thought himself justified in 
 indulcjinDT in one of his favourite weak- 
 nesses — that of rising late. He was not a 
 man to set a fancy value upon his time 
 under any circumstances, nor had he much 
 appreciation of the beauties of nature, 
 never so charming, fresh, and inspiring as 
 when :he day is young. Litton, on the 
 contrary, was ordinarily much impressed 
 by them ; and never had a fairer scene 
 awaited him than that which met his
 
 56 Walter's Word, 
 
 eyes when, having unfastened the door of 
 the Wheatsheaf with his own hands (for no 
 one in the house was yet stirring but him- 
 self), he stood in the roadway, which at a 
 few paces from the inn was lost in the 
 shelving sand of the sea-shore. The tiny 
 waves were lapping softly upon it, for the 
 storm of the previous night had spent itself, 
 and the gulls, which it had blown about like 
 foam, were sliding noiselessly through the 
 sunny air. To the north and east lay the 
 illimitable ocean ; but southward, the view 
 was inter" pted by a small projecting pro- 
 montory, upon which, and not on the shore, 
 as he had imagined from his friend's de- 
 scription, stood the ruined church. The sea, 
 indeed, had encroached upon it, aud in a 
 manner swallowed it up ; but this had been 
 effected by sapping the foundations of the 
 cliff on which it had been built. The 
 Eomans, wiser in their generation than 
 those whose devout hands had raised 
 the church, had placed t/ieir edifice, 
 half-castle, half-camp, upon much higher 
 ground, where it still bade defiance to 
 all assaults, even those of Time itself. 
 The two together offered in their decay
 
 Penaddon. 57 
 
 as picturesque a spectacle as could well 
 be imagined. A winding road, itself 
 broken and jagged on the side towards the 
 hungry sea, and already unsafe for wheeled 
 conveyances, led up to the more modern 
 ruin ; but the other stood in a cornfield, 
 approachable only by a narrow path through 
 the standing grain. The uses of the castle, 
 wrapped around in its mantle of ivy, and 
 with many a leafy shrub growing from the 
 interstices of its huge walls, in which the 
 dust of centuries had accumulated, were 
 wholly fled : the fosse, which had once 
 formed its external defence, was filled with 
 earth ; the watch-tower, on which its 
 sentinels had been posted, was unapproach- 
 able, for the steps that had led to it were 
 fallen away ; it needed a scholar even to 
 guess at what had been the design of those 
 massive outlines, which had once sheltered 
 the soldiers of Csesar. The church, on the 
 contrary, if for fewer folk than of old, kept 
 its uses still. Just as there are men and 
 women, in whom, in youth, there was seen 
 by their contemporaries little to admire 
 above their fellows, but who, when age 
 approaches, are clothed in reverence to the
 
 58 Walters Word. 
 
 eyes of a later generation, so was this sacred 
 ruin — now that the voices of its preachers 
 were silenced for ever, and the winds of 
 heaven made music in its roofless aisles in 
 place of any mortal choir — far more sugges- 
 tive of religious thought than it had been 
 in its palmiest time. The long-forgotten 
 dead — those at least whom the sacrilegious 
 sea had not devoured — still lay around it, 
 though the grass that covered them had 
 well-nigh lost all semblance to that 
 " swelling turf" which marks the last rest- 
 ing-places of our kind ; their headstones 
 had fallen, or sunk, or disappeared, and 
 with them, in dust and nothingness, lay the 
 hands that out of dear remembrance mio-ht 
 have strewn the autumn flowers on their 
 graves ; but Nature had performed this 
 pious duty, and in less transient fashion. 
 The golden furze lavished its rich perfume 
 over them with every breath of air ; by 
 mossy stones, half-hidden from the eye, the 
 violet scattered its incense, and a thousand 
 little blossoms, yellow, blue, and red, 
 enamelled the green pall that covered all. 
 Even within the church, these innocent 
 intruders had made their way, bordering
 
 Penaddon. 59 
 
 the broken slabs, beneath which lay name- 
 less knights and squires, embracing the 
 chancel arch with their delicate tendrils, 
 and giving each prostrate pillar a florid 
 capital to replace that which it had lost in 
 its fall. 
 
 As Walter climbed the stile that led into 
 this deserted sanctuary a partridge whirred 
 from beneath his feet, and flew towards a 
 neighbouring w^ood; his eyes mechanically 
 followed it, and perceived through the trees 
 the glint of a w^hite house, which he rightly 
 conjectured to be Penaddon Hall. In an 
 instant, the church, the castle, and the fair 
 scene w^hich was on all sides spread before 
 him, were forgotten, and his thoughts re- 
 curred to the subject from which they had 
 won him, and from which he had been glad 
 to be won — Lotty. He had never called 
 her by that name, of course, but he had 
 heard her called so, and never thought of 
 her under any other. He was not a poet, 
 even in feeling — as, indeed, few painters are ; 
 but he had something more than an eye for 
 natural beauties ; he had a reverent spirit. 
 His first idea, on beholding this sacred 
 solitude, whose silence the noisy exit of the
 
 60 Walters Word. 
 
 partridge had made even more impressive, 
 could not have been such as would certainly 
 have occurred to his friend Selwyn : "What 
 a jolly place for a picnic !" The presence of 
 the dead would have hushed his lips. He 
 would have thought with solemnity upon 
 the generations of men whose bones had 
 been buried in that lonely spot, and whose 
 memory had died away. He would have 
 contrasted their position, perhaps, with that 
 of their far-off descendants, living and toil- 
 ing yonder in the ships at sea, or on the 
 earth that was to know them no more, with 
 pity — for youth and hope were still his own. 
 The kestrel, at all events, whom his coming 
 had disturbed from its eyrie in the ruined 
 castle, and which now hung reassured and 
 motionless, above his head, would for certain 
 have attracted his attention ; but the eye 
 only sees what it brings with it, or, rather, 
 the outward eye is but the deputy of our 
 sense of seeing, and can see nothing save in 
 the absence of its principal, the inward. 
 And Walter's inward eye was fixed on 
 Lotty. He could not have helped it, even 
 though it should have cost him his life, and 
 his thoughts did him no dishonour. How
 
 Penaddon. 61 
 
 beautiful she was, how gracious, and in what 
 sore need of help and guidance ! These were 
 the three aspects in which she chiefly pre- 
 sented herself to him. He did not resent 
 the fact that his friend had secured her 
 affections ; he bowed before it, as before any 
 other harsh decree of Destiny ; but he did, 
 without quite acknowledging it to himself, 
 resent in his heart the complacency with 
 which the captain took his good fortune, 
 and the small store he apparently set by it. 
 It was not exactly that he did not value his 
 prize as it deserved, but that he seemed to 
 value it for what were not its rarest and 
 most precious attributes, but for such as 
 were common to other girls. It was hate- 
 ful, for example, to hear him talk of her ex- 
 pectations, and still more hateful to perceive 
 that the difficulties of her position, and the 
 evil consequences that might result from it 
 to herself, were not the only, if even the 
 chief considerations with Selwyn. He re- 
 garded them fully as much, nay, more, as 
 they affected hiin. And if this was the case 
 before he had married her, while those in- 
 toxicating charms were not yet his own, at 
 the time when the Chord of Self passes from
 
 62 Walter's Word, 
 
 the Harp of Life even with the most selfish, 
 how would it be when he had become 
 possessed and was tired of them ! And if, 
 with satiety, poverty should also befall this 
 man (as it was like to do), who had always 
 been wont to fare of the best, and valued it, 
 would not Lotty have to endure much worse 
 than poverty — coldness, neglect, and the 
 bitter consciousness that she had been the 
 wilful cause of her own ruin ! Litton was 
 hard upon his friend, no doubt, but it was 
 because his heart was poured out like water 
 in tenderness for this friendless girl; nor 
 was he selfish in his indignation. If the 
 captain had not existed, he could still not 
 have hoped to make Lotty his own. He 
 had no position in the world, and no money 
 to be called " money ;" that is to say, he had 
 just enough to live upon in a very sparing 
 and Spartan-like manner. His brush had 
 as yet earned him little or nothing, scarce 
 enough to pay for his canvas and the paints, 
 with an occasional share of a model. And 
 though so young, and really clever with his 
 fingers, he did not believe that his genius 
 would give him an independence for many a 
 year to come. His parents had long been
 
 Fenaddon. 63 
 
 dead; he had been left to the care of a 
 distant relative, who had all but declined 
 the trust bequeathed to him, and had only 
 let him have his way in embracing Art as a 
 profession, because ifc was less trouble than 
 to oppose him. He had been practically 
 left to his own guidance in London for 
 years, just as much as now that he was 
 legally his own master. To some lads, this 
 would have been ruin ; with most of us — 
 notwithstanding the best of bringing-up — 
 "good principles" — a vague name, but a 
 very real thing — do not actuate our conduct 
 till long after we have passed Litton's age ; 
 but it had not been so with him. He was 
 no saint, indeed, but he was a man of honour 
 in a fine sense, and a true gentleman. Old 
 age, and womanhood, and poverty, had 
 always exacted from him respect and pity. 
 He had knocked about in the world (a very 
 different thing from dein^ knocked about in 
 it, remember) without losing his tenderness 
 of heart or honesty, though he had got rid 
 of a good many illusions prevalent among 
 those of his age. If Lotty had been a poor 
 girl of humble birth, and had been free to 
 love him, he would not have hesitated to
 
 64 Walters Word. 
 
 become a suitor for her hand. He would 
 have thought very little of the opinions of 
 society about that matter ; bat in such cir- 
 cumstances as the present he would have 
 thought a good deal of /ler, and would 
 certainly never have persuaded her to give 
 up home, and friends, and competence, to 
 accept him and poverty. He had a habit, 
 rare at any time of life with men, of think- 
 ing of others even in the affairs in which he 
 himself was also concerned. 
 
 At this moment, however, as he walks up 
 and down the deserted churchyard, gazing 
 mechanically, and not as usual with a keen 
 eye to " effects," at earth, and sea, and sky, 
 his thoughts were mainly of his own position, 
 present and future. How long was he 
 doomed to live in those dreary lodgings in 
 Beech Street, practising his art, while the 
 short light lasted — drawing " studies" that 
 had to be rubbed out again to make room 
 for others, but little better, or painting like- 
 nesses of which even the hired sitters did 
 not always express their admiration ? Upon 
 the whole, he was afraid he would never 
 " make much of it" in the way of his calling, 
 though he loved it well, and was prone to
 
 Penaddon. 65 
 
 magnify it upon occasion ; never enough, 
 probably, to have a home of his own, that 
 he could call such, ruled by some dear help- 
 mate and sympathizer. Jack Pelter, who 
 lived on the floor below him, and went 
 halves in his models, was a good fellow 
 enough, it is true, and said " Poor devil" 
 really as if he felt it, when Walter's picture 
 came back from the Gallery in Pall Mall 
 last month, rejected by the committee ; but 
 that was not the sort of consolation for 
 which he yearned. He did not relish the 
 prospect of becoming in time like Jack him- 
 self, though that agreeable veteran had 
 plenty of accepted pictures, some of which 
 were even marked with that charming St-. 
 Andrew's cross in the catalogues ; red-nosed, 
 hoarse- voiced Jack, given to singing ballads 
 " amatory and bacchanalian," as the old 
 song-books term them, late into the night, 
 and rising in the morning with a relish for 
 beer. Walter was no milksop, but the 
 prospect of such a future had no charms for 
 him, and yet it seemed the best he had to 
 look to. He had not speculated upon these 
 matters hitherto, being wisely content to 
 work and wait ; but now — now that he had 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 Walters Word, 
 
 had a glimpse of the what-might-have-been, 
 if everything had been quite different, he 
 had become sadly dissatisfied with his con- 
 dition. He was not envious of the captain's 
 good fortune, but he could not forbear con- 
 trasting it with his own. " When could he 
 ever hope to possess — indeed, was it possible 
 that the world held another like her for him 
 or any man — such a paragon of loveliness as 
 this young girl, whom he had seen for the 
 first time but yesterday, but whose charms 
 
 would never, while memory " 
 
 At this point in his soliloquy Walter in- 
 stinctively glanced towards the Hall, and 
 coming down towards him through the 
 trees he caught the flutter of a petticoat. 
 Tor a moment he became rose-colour — not 
 from motives of delicacy, for the petticoat 
 was a long way ofi", but from the force and 
 suddenness of an emotion that he could 
 not resist. Lotty was about to join him, to 
 take his hand, to speak with him. He felt 
 inclined to flee to the inn, and bid the 
 captain come — for whom, and not for him, 
 this visit was obviously designed. The dis- 
 tance must have deceived her beautiful eyes, 
 and she had taken him for her beloved
 
 Penaddon. 67 
 
 object. But it was already too late for 
 flight ; she had left the cover of the wood 
 by this time, and was coming through the 
 cornfield, like Euth to Boaz, only Boaz was 
 asleep in the Wheatsheaf : and now awhile 
 the Eoman ruin shut her from his view. 
 "What should he say, what should he do? 
 Ought he to offer some excuse for the cap- 
 tain's somnolency, or to ignore it, or to say 
 he had left him on the shore somewhere, 
 writing her name with his walking-stick on 
 the sand ? He was prepared to take any 
 course that would please her most ; to shield, 
 to praise — but here she came in sight again, 
 much nearer, and he perceived, with mingled 
 relief and chagrin, that it was not Lotty at 
 all, but Mrs. Sheldon ! She was a tall, fine 
 woman, and of a graceful carriage, yet he 
 felt aggrieved with himself that distance 
 should have lent such enchantment to her 
 that he had taken her for her lovely guest ; 
 nor had the mistake, it appeared, been reci- 
 procal, since the lady's first words, after her 
 " Good morning," were, " I felt sure that it 
 was you, Mr. Litton, who had come out to 
 enjoy this beautiful morning, and not that 
 sluggard Eeggie. I do believe that he was 
 
 5—2
 
 68 Walters Word. 
 
 secretly rejoiced last night when I forbade 
 him to call upon his inamorata before eleven 
 o'clock this morning. The dear fellow has 
 made a charming choice, has he not ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Miss Brown is very beauti- 
 ful, and, as it seems to me, has a disposition 
 calculated to make any man happy." 
 
 "How long have you known ber?" 
 
 This question rather staggered Walter, 
 for the hours which he had passed in Lotty^s 
 company had not been estimated in his 
 mind by their mere number at all ; his life 
 seemed to be divided into two portions of 
 about equal length — the one during which 
 he had not known Lotty, and the other 
 during which he had. Brought face to face 
 with the facts, by Mrs. Sheldon's inquiry, 
 be felt that there was something ridiculous 
 in replying : '' Since yesterday ;" so he 
 answered evasively : " Oh, only very re- 
 cently : but I have seen her during such a 
 trying time, that I seem to know more about 
 ber than I should have learnt in months of 
 ordinary acquaintance." 
 
 " I see," said Mrs. Sheldon dryly. " Well, 
 I too have seen her under exceptional cir- 
 cumstances, and though I quite agree with
 
 Penaddon. 69 
 
 you as to her good looks, her character 
 appears to me to be a little weak." 
 
 " You must remember, Mrs. Sheldon," 
 answered AValter quickly, " that the circum- 
 stances are not only exceptional, but, in 
 your case, are not altogether favourable. 
 Up to the moment of your reception of her 
 she was not quite certain that it would be a 
 kind one ; that she was utterly alone — nay, 
 worse than alone — till you held out your 
 arms to her ; and had really no opportunity 
 of showing any strength of character, even 
 if she possessed it. Moreover, she is so de- 
 voted to your nephew, that her individuality 
 is for the present, as it were, lost in his." 
 
 " For the present, you say, Mr. Litton : 
 you do not think this devotion of hers, then, 
 is likely to stand the test of matrimony ?" 
 
 '' ]!^ay ; indeed, I implied nothing of the 
 kind," said Walter earnestly. " I only meant 
 that the young lady is placed just now in a 
 most difficult and embarrassing situation, 
 and needs the most charitable construction 
 to be put on her words as well as actions." 
 
 '' I see you are a true knight-errant, Mr. 
 Litton, and happy should be the lady whose 
 colours you elect to wear upon your helm,"
 
 70 Walter's Word. 
 
 answered Mrs. Sheldon with a scarce percep- 
 tible sigh. " Dear Eeggie, I fear, is not 
 quite such a Don Quixote. He would do 
 battle, of course, for his own fair lady, but 
 not for another's, as you have been doing. 
 She is fortunate in having so disinterested 
 an advocate." 
 
 Walter felt not only uncomfortable, but 
 even abashed ; he was not unconscious that 
 he had been somewhat enthusiastic in his 
 praise of the object of his friend's choice, 
 and that it was no more his place to be so — 
 nor, indeed, so much — than it was Mrs. 
 Sheldon's. "I still, however, think that 
 Lotty is weak," continued that lady musing ; 
 " not only born to be led rather than to lead, 
 which is the fate of our sex, but, what is not 
 so usual with us, well content with that 
 dependent position. However, that is the 
 less to be regretted, since Eeggie has will 
 enough for two. I don't think he would 
 stand much opposition in a wife, after the 
 honeymoon days were over; what do t/ou 
 say, Mr. Litton?" 
 
 " I think Selwyn likes to have his way, 
 like most of us men," answered Walter. 
 
 " You are virtuous," said Mrs. Sheldon,
 
 Penaddon. 71 
 
 smiling, "for you withstand the tempta- 
 tion of criticising an absent friend. Well, 
 I am his aunt, you know — though it seems 
 rather ridiculous perhaps " 
 
 "It seems incredible," said Walter 
 gallantly. " When I first saw you, I 
 thought Selwyn had been playing one of 
 his jokes npon us in saying that he was 
 your nephew." 
 
 " But it really is so," said Mrs. Sheldon : 
 " my father and Reginald's were always 
 taken for brothers, so nearly were they of 
 an age, and yet they belonged to difierent 
 generations. Well, as I was saying, I am 
 his near relative, and priv^ileged to speak 
 the truth about Eeggie. I think this young 
 lady very suitable to him in many respects ; 
 but, of course, he runs a tremendous risk. 
 I mean, of course," added she in answer to 
 Walter's questioning look, " as to the 
 money. I am not a mercenary person, I 
 hope, but I know men can't live upon air." 
 
 "Nor young ladies either, I conclude,'* 
 said Walter dryly. 
 
 " Well, yes ; they can live upon love, 
 which comes to the same thing, my dear 
 Mr. Litton. There is a great deal of non-
 
 72 Walters Word, 
 
 sense talked about the expensive require- 
 ments of girls of the present day, and of 
 how men are afraid to marry them in conse- 
 quence ; but the fact is, it is the men who 
 are most afraid of being poor. It is true 
 that they have mixed more in the world, 
 and therefore seen more of the incon- 
 veniences of poverty than the young people 
 of my own sex, but, in addition to that, 
 they are more selfish, and (if I may use the 
 word without cant) less spiritual. Even 
 the most foolish girl, whose happiness 
 seems dependent upon the smiles of what is 
 called ' Society,' has capabilities of self- 
 sacrifice in her for the sake of him she loves, 
 such as you men do not dream of; nay, she 
 would not be conscious, as all you would be 
 — for never yet did a man give up for 
 another's sake so much as the smoking of a 
 cigar without patting himself on the back 
 for it — that it was a sacrifice, so long as the 
 husband continued to be what he seemed 
 when he was her lover. If his love is not 
 meat, drink, and clothing to her, it is all 
 beside those three essentials ; and possessing 
 it, she can dispense with almost everytliing 
 else."
 
 Penaddon. 73 
 
 The change in Mrs. Sheldon's manner, as 
 she thus spoke, was very remarkable : her 
 lively, yet somewhat cynical air had wholly 
 disappeared, and was replaced by a certain 
 passionate earnestness. " It is possible," 
 was Walter's involuntary thought, " that 
 Society may have judged this woman 
 harshly, after all ; she may herself have 
 married one who did not continue to be the 
 man he had seemed, or whom she discovered, 
 perhaps, to be the lover of somebody else." 
 His heart, always tender towards woman- 
 kind, was moved with pity, and his face 
 betrayed it. 
 
 "I am speaking of men and women 
 generally, Mr. Litton," said she, in a 
 softened tone, " for there are women as 
 hard as nails (as Eeginald would say), and 
 men more noble than the best of women ; 
 and in this particular case I do not doubt 
 there will be love enough, and on the right 
 side, to make it no hardship to dispense 
 with luxuries. It is the vulgar meat, drink, 
 and clothing question that is the present 
 problem. If Brown ph'e refuses to be 
 reconciled, how are the young folks to 
 live ?"
 
 74 Walters Word. 
 
 " That is the very inquiry that I ventured 
 to put to Selwyn last night," observed 
 Walter gravely, " but one which he was 
 either unable or disinclined to answer. He 
 has his pay, of course." 
 
 " That is nothing," answered Mrs. 
 Sheldon. "He has always looked upon it 
 as so much pocket-money, to be spent in 
 cigars, and sodas and brandy. The inheri- 
 tance he received from his parents was to a 
 great extent anticipated before it came to 
 him, and he has been living on it — that is, 
 on the principal — ever since. I should be 
 surprised even if he could show a fair 
 balance-sheet, and start in life to-day with 
 anything to the good, if all his debts were 
 paid." 
 
 " Grood Heavens !" cried Litton, " this is 
 terrible. I knew Selwyn called himself a 
 poor man ; but I thought that was con- 
 sidering his position in a crack cavalry 
 regiment : poor, compared with such a man 
 as myself, for instance. 1 felt that it was 
 indiscreet of him to marry ; but if what you 
 
 say is true " Walter hesitated, for he 
 
 was about to say something harsh. 
 
 " If what I say is true, and it is true,"
 
 Penaddon. 75 
 
 said Mrs. Sheldon, " this marriage is Mad- 
 ness, you were about to observe. It is 
 worse than madness — unless he has good 
 cause to reckon upon the forgiveness of this 
 young girl's father — it is suicide. It is 
 upon this very matter that I came down 
 here this mornins: to have a few words with 
 you. I wanted to know, from a really 
 trustworthy source, what chance there was 
 of a reconciliation.*' 
 
 '' My dear Mrs. Sheldon, I know less of 
 that even than yourself," returned Walter, 
 a sort of diorama of poor Lotty's married 
 life projecting itself on his brain — a little 
 whirl of gaiety, then debt and duns, the 
 shifts of penury, and at last the depths of it 
 — and filling him with indescribable distress. 
 " I cannot, wdll not think that matters are 
 quite so bad with Selwyn as you describe. 
 If they are, how did he himself look forward 
 to extricate hmself from his difficulties, 
 supposing this — this running-away had 
 never happened ?" 
 
 " By a lucky marriage," observed Mrs. 
 Sheldon coolly. " Eeggie has no expecta- 
 tions in the way of money at all ; but there is 
 a far away cousin of his, a baronet, to whose
 
 76 Walters Word. 
 
 title, although to nothing else, for he has 
 nothing to leave, he is the heir. This man 
 is both old and ailing, and in all probability 
 my nephew will soon become ' Sir Eeginald/ 
 He flattered himself, and with reason, that 
 with a handle to his name, his good looks 
 would procure him a rich wife, when it 
 should become absolutely necessary to him to 
 redeem his fortunes by matrimony. With 
 such personal advantages, aided by the 
 glitter of his Crimean medal, he could 
 hardly, indeed, have failed. But now, if he 
 has overrated the strength of Brown peres 
 affection for his offspring, he has done for 
 himself altogether." 
 
 " He has done for somebody else also, it 
 appears to me," said Walter bitterly. 
 
 Mrs. Sheldon shrugged her plump 
 shoulders and threw out her little hands : 
 " That goes without saying, Mr. Litton : 
 man and wife are one ; such, at least, is the 
 view of the law." 
 
 '' And I suppose they must now be man 
 and wife," observed Walter mournfully. 
 There was nothing of selfishness in his 
 thought, only commiseration for what 
 seemed the wretchedness of Lotty's future ;
 
 Penaddon. 77 
 
 but it was with a sarcastic smile that his 
 companion answered : " The alternative 
 w^ould be even worse, under the circum- 
 stances, my good sir, for the ' somebody 
 else,' for whom you express so disinterested 
 a solicitude. Matters have gone too far, in 
 the eyes of the world, to admit of retreat, 
 even if Eeginald would listen to such a pro- 
 position. The girl is of age, and even if 
 she were not, the law is not so paternal as 
 it is (perhaps fortunately) supposed to be by 
 young ladies and their would-be swains. If 
 she were a ward in Chancery, then, indeed, 
 even Eeginald's will would have to give 
 way for once, and I myself might get into 
 serious trouble for giving my countenance 
 — though, you will do me the justice to 
 own, I had not the opportunity of refusing 
 it — to yesterday's escapade. You must 
 never run away with a ward in Chancery, 
 remember — unless she is somebody else's 
 wife ;" and Mrs. Sheldon broke into a light 
 musical laugh, that startled Walter not a 
 little. 
 
 " You are shocked," said she, " at my 
 want of gravity ; but what would you 
 have ? The mischief is done, and there is
 
 78 Walter's Word. 
 
 nothing left but to make tlie best of it. If 
 von will take my advice, yon will not put 
 Eeginald in a buff by useless expostulation 
 upon a matter which is, after all, his own 
 concern ; nor shall I make Lotty sad by 
 allusion to her blank prospects. If evil is 
 to come, it will come soon enough, and let 
 ns at least spare her the misery of expecting 
 it. She will be up by this time, and looking 
 for her hostess, so I must say au revoir" 
 
 " One moment," said Walter earnestly. 
 " May I ask how long — I mean, how soon 
 will the marriage take place?" 
 
 " Well, doubtless as soon as the law will 
 permit it. In a case of special licence — you 
 will think I have these things at my finger- 
 ends, but I was married myself," here she 
 gaily touched her wedding-ring, '* under 
 these very circumstances — the period of 
 residence is of no consequence. I hope we 
 may succeed in preventing your being bored 
 to death at Penaddon for the very short 
 time that will be necessary to get the docu- 
 ment from Doctors' Commons." 
 
 '' I thought of going back home — that is, 
 to town," said Walter hesitatingly. "I 
 only came down to look after Selwyn, and
 
 Penaddon. 79 
 
 now, of course, I shall be no longer necessary 
 to him." 
 
 '* My dear Mr. Litton, you are more 
 necessary to him than ever," replied his 
 companion gravely ; " your presence, indeed, 
 is absolutely indispensable at the marriage 
 itself/' 
 
 " How so?" inquired Walter, with amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " Why, you will act, of course, as the 
 deputy of Brown pere. You will have to 
 give Lotty away." 
 
 Mrs. Sheldon had turned upon her heel, 
 and was half over the churchyard stile 
 (exhibiting a very charming foot and ankle) 
 before he could recall his senses, scattered 
 by this bombshell of a reply. Grive Lotty 
 away ! So inhuman a command had never 
 been laid upon him since his first school- 
 master had bid him fetch the stick which 
 was designed to be the instrument of his 
 own correction.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MRS. SHELDON S REVENGE. 
 
 N Walter's return to the Wheat- 
 slieaf he found the captain just 
 descended from his room, and 
 looking very handsome, but haggard. He 
 had not slept well, he said, for his "con- 
 founded arm'' had troubled him. At this 
 spectacle his companion's heart was in- 
 stantly moved to pity, and smote him sore 
 for its late severe judgment upon that hero. 
 He had taken this man to task for selfish- 
 ness, yet here he was maimed, or, at all 
 events, disabled, in the performance of his 
 duty : it could not have been a pleasant 
 thing, however glorious, to have crossed 
 and recrossed that Crimean valley, with the 
 cannon-balls hurtling over it, and the grave 
 gaping before every stride of his horse.
 
 Mrs. Sheldon's Revenge. 81 
 
 " My dear fellow, can I not do something 
 to ease the pain ? A cold-water bandage, 
 a 
 
 " No, no ; you might as well blow upon 
 it," answered the capta-in impatiently. 
 "But I tell you iv/iat, if you'll sit down, 
 while the breakfast is getting ready, and 
 write an application for the Special Licence — 
 that will be really doing me a service. I'll 
 sign it, of course, but writing is as hard a 
 job for me just now as when I first learnt 
 pothooks and hangers/' 
 
 This was another stick to be fetched for 
 the schoolmaster ; but Walter obeyed with 
 a smothered sigh ; and the missive was 
 despatched at once by messenger, in order to 
 catch the mid-day mail from Falmouth. 
 
 In spite of his wounds and his love, the 
 captain made a much better breakfast than 
 Litton, though he had been out for hours in 
 the sea-breeze. 
 
 " Gad," said the former, without notice of 
 this circumstance, ''this Penaddou air is 
 first-rate for the appetite ; and now that that 
 licence is sent for, and one has nothing on 
 oner's mind, one feels inclined to eat for 
 ever. 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 Walters Word. 
 
 Litton thought within himself, that that 
 poor girl up at the Hall, for the first time 
 separated from home and friends, and having 
 for her sole companion a lady so well ac- 
 quainted with the law of the land as respected 
 clandestine marriages, might not be so for- 
 tunate in having '' nothing on her mind ;" 
 but he kept that conviction to himself. 
 
 It was near eleven o'clock before the meal 
 was concluded ; and the captain, putting an 
 immense cigar in his mouth, expressed his 
 conviction that they were " due up yonder," 
 and led the way to his aunt's residence by 
 the footpath through the corn. 
 
 " Queer old church that," said he, with a 
 nod in the direction of the ruin ; " and a 
 very favourite place for the ' cheap-trippers' 
 to bring their grub to. So was the castle 
 ]^QYe — it's no more a castle, by-the-bye, than 
 it's a lunatic asylum, but that's what they 
 call it — until Farmer Yates stopped their 
 little larks by putting up * Spring-guns and 
 man-traps set on these premises.' Did you 
 ever see a spring-gun or a man-trap? It 
 would probably cost a man a thousand 
 pounds in damages, or twenty years' trans- 
 portation, who should set up any such
 
 Mrs. Sheldon s Revenge. 83 
 
 engine; and yet people believe in their 
 existence." 
 
 " That is the case, perhaps, with some 
 other dreadful penalties, that seem a little 
 disproportioned to the offence," observed 
 Litton thoughtfully. 
 
 " How so ? You don't mean that one 
 can't punish those poacher fellows ?" 
 answered the matter-of-fact captain. 
 
 " No, no," said the other, smiling ; " I 
 was referring to certain theological menaces, 
 the effect of which may be very wholesome, 
 like that of the board yonder, but which 
 one ventures to hope may a little exceed 
 the reality." 
 
 " Oh, I believe all them,'' cried the cap- 
 tain resolutely. " None of your free-think- 
 ing for me. I'm not straitlaced in morals 
 and that ; but when it comes to religion, 
 that is quite a different thing. I'm a 
 church-and-king man, I am." 
 
 '* What is that ?" inquired his companion 
 dryly. 
 
 ** Well, a man that swears by the Thirty- 
 nine Articles, and respects the law, sir — 
 the game-laws, for instance. It is true I 
 have neither read the one nor the other, 
 
 Q—2
 
 84 Walters Word. 
 
 but I take 'em on trust. That's faith, my 
 good sir ; in which I am afraid you artist 
 gentlemen are rather deficient." 
 
 " My dear Selwyn, it is my opinion that 
 Nature intended you for the pulpit — to 
 beat ' the drum ecclesiastic/ instead of the 
 kettledrum." 
 
 " As it happens, we don't beat kettle- 
 drums, nor even possess them, though we 
 do belong to the Heavy Brigade," said the 
 captain, with a little touch of temper, the 
 usual accompaniment of theological dis- 
 cussion. '' It is a pity to see a clever fellow 
 like you talking of matters you don't under- 
 stand. Here's something which you do. 
 Look at that fine view yonder, through 
 the trees : the church and the sea, and the 
 ships, and that little beggar with the red 
 cap, with his shrimp-net ! I hope my aunt 
 has given Lotty some shrimps for breakfast. 
 By jingo, there they are !" 
 
 The two ladies were walking in the wall- 
 garden of the Hall, which, standing on a 
 lower level than the spot where the young 
 men stood, was completely commanded by 
 it. Though the grounds about the house 
 were, as we have hinted, as ill kept as the
 
 Mrs. Sheldon s Bevenge. 85 
 
 mansion was dilapidated, this did not affect 
 their natural beauty, which was very great. 
 The walls of the garden were crumbling to 
 the touch of time, but moss and lichen 
 covered them ; the fruit-trees had escaped 
 from the rusty nails that had once confined 
 them, but their laden branches looked not 
 less fair as they hung heavily down, and 
 even trailed upon the ground ; and though 
 it might be difficult to tell flower from 
 weed, so rankly did they grow together, 
 the garden-plots blazed with colour. 
 
 This wildered Eden was bordered by a 
 swift and brawling stream, and beside it 
 paced Lotty and her hostess, apparently in 
 earnest talk, and quite unconscious of the 
 admiring eyes that were fixed upon them. 
 The outlook to seaward had been well 
 worthy of the captain's encomiums, but 
 Walter thought this home-picture even 
 still more charming, and one fair figure in 
 the foreground worth them both. 
 
 " How very, very beautiful !" cried he in 
 a rapture. 
 
 "It's a pretty spot, ain't it?" assented 
 the captain, "though one can't say much 
 for the garden. The fact is, my aunt is as
 
 86 Walters Word. 
 
 poor as Job, though slie has not his patience 
 (if her husband's testimony is to be relied 
 on), and the whole place is tumbling to 
 pieces. She ought to have taken a cottage 
 — but I suppose she knows her own 
 business best. She is clever enough and to 
 spare. I'll lay my life — I can tell it by the 
 bend of her neck — that she is pumping 
 poor Lotty at this moment; ' eliciting,' as 
 the police reports have it. every scrap of in- 
 formation concerning the Great Self-made — 
 that's what I call old Brown — and his 
 belongings. I'm obliged to have all Twy 
 wits about me, I can tell you, when she 
 takes to cross-examining me. Not that 
 I've anything particular to be ashamed of, 
 more than my neighbours ; but if one has a 
 little secret, one likes to keep it, and that 
 woman is resolute to find it out. Scandal 
 is the breath of life to her, so you may 
 imagine what a difficulty of breathing she 
 labours under at Penaddon." 
 
 "But why does she live there, then?" 
 was Walter's not unnatural inquiry. 
 
 " Well, you see, she has had a quarrel 
 with Society, and it is better to live at a 
 place where there is uobody to visit one, than
 
 Mrs. Sheldon s Revenge. 87 
 
 where there are plenty of fine folks about 
 who wont. I shall have to talk to her a 
 bit this morning about family matters — 
 'urgent private affairs/ as we say in the 
 Crimea — and must leave you and Lotty to 
 get on together as you can. Young women 
 that are ' bespoken' are not, I know, very 
 lively companions ; but she looks upon you, 
 I'm sure, already as an old friend. It is 
 true ' the friend of the husband,' " added the 
 captain, laughing, " is rather a dangerous 
 acquaintance ; but if I can't trust ' our 
 chaperon,' there is no faith to be placed in 
 man." 
 
 Litton laughed, as he was expected to do, 
 but the colour came into his cheek in spite 
 of himself: it was not the blush of shame, 
 for his nature was loyal to the core, and yet 
 he was conscious that he was not so com- 
 pletely qualified for the post assigned to 
 him as the captain imagined. No chaperon's 
 heart goes pit-a-pat as her charge draws 
 nigh ; no chaperon's speech begins to fail 
 her as she discourses (on the proprieties, for 
 instance) to the object of her solicitude; yet 
 both these sensations were experienced by 
 Walter Litton within the next ^yq minutes,
 
 88 Walters Word, 
 
 at the expiration of which he found himself 
 walking with Lotty by the little river, fol- 
 lowed slowly, and at a considerable interval, 
 by Selwyn and his aunt. The latter lady 
 had saluted Walter as though she had not 
 met him since the previous evening, which 
 astonished him not a little, since it took for 
 granted, what, indeed, happened to be the 
 fact, that he had not mentioned the inter- 
 view to the captain. Had she read that 
 reticence in his face? Or did she deem 
 that their conversation in the churchyard 
 had been of too confidential a kind for him 
 to have alluded to? Or was it really true, 
 as his friend had laughingly suggested to 
 him, that this " grass widow," as he called 
 her, had fallen in love with him, and wished 
 to establish clandestine relations between 
 them ? Litton was " human" enough, and 
 not much less of a coxcomb, perhaps, than 
 the rest of our sex, but circumstances alter 
 feelings as well as cases, and just now, 
 walking by the side of Lotty, he did not 
 like Mrs. Sheldon the better for her 
 prudence. 
 
 The rims of Lotty's eyes were a little red, 
 but that did not detract from her charms.
 
 Mrs, Sheldon's Revenge. 89 
 
 in the opinion of her present companion : 
 for that she had been weeping, only proved 
 the tenderness of her heart. She had been 
 somewhat overtired with her journey, she 
 said, in answer to his inquiries, but was 
 well enough in health. As to her spirits, 
 she could not help being anxious about 
 those she had left at home. That was only 
 natural, Walter allowed, yet expressed his 
 confident expectation that, in a week or two, 
 she would, as the captain's bride, be as 
 cherished a member of her family as ever. 
 
 "Nay, Mr. Litton, you do not kuow my 
 father," answered she tearfully : "I am 
 afraid I shall have offended him past for- 
 giveness. Eeginald does not like to look 
 upon the dark side of things, I know, 
 far less to talk of it ; but papa will be very, 
 very angry, I know ; and Lily, oh, so sad!" 
 
 Here she hung her pretty head, and a sob 
 was heard which wrung Walter's heart. 
 
 " But it is better to talk about it," said 
 he softly, " than to let a woe unuttered prey 
 upon your mind. I cannot fancy that any 
 one who knows you — far less who loves you, 
 as your father must do — can very long hold 
 out against your pleading. Selwyn is a
 
 90 Walter's Word. 
 
 gentleman, well born, well bred, a soldier 
 who has distinguished himself in action, one 
 any man might be proud to call his son-in- 
 law. It is not as though you had niarried, 
 I do not say beneath you — for you could 
 never have stooped to that — but a mere 
 nobody — -like myself, for instance." 
 
 Perhaps it was agreeable to him to put 
 the case, even supposititiously, in this way, 
 or perhaps he fondly expected that his com- 
 panion would remonstrate against this lowly 
 estimation of his own position (which in 
 reality he by no means thought so ill of), 
 but Lotty took no notice of this personal 
 illustration whatever, 
 
 " No, no," sighed she ; " it is not that ; 
 but my father has set his heart upon his 
 daughters making what are called ' good 
 matches ;' he wishes us to marry rich men. 
 And now that I have chosen Eeginald, it 
 will be all the worse for poor dear Lily. 
 Papa will choose for her himself some 
 odious creature who has money, and she 
 will be made miserable all through me." 
 
 " Nay, it is surely wrong to harass your- 
 self with the fear of so remote a contingency," 
 urged Walter; "for having lost one daughter
 
 Mrs. Sheldon s Revenge. 91 
 
 — or dreaming for the present that he has 
 lost her — your father will be slow to part 
 with the other ; he will keep her at home to 
 comfort him, and be won through her, in the 
 end, to a reconciliation with 3'ou and yours. 
 It must be so, I feel confident, and especially" 
 (here Litton gave a little bow) " if your sister 
 Lilian is like yourself." 
 
 The bow was quite thrown away, indeed 
 it is doubtful whether Lotty observed it, 
 but to his last words she replied with sim- 
 plicity : " Oh, Lilian is worth a thousand of 
 me. She is wise, and dutiful, and good ! — 
 oh, so good, Mr. Litton ! And I know she 
 is breaking her heart for me, though I am 
 so unworthy of her love ;" and she put up 
 her little hands before her face and sobbed 
 anew. 
 
 " If all the rest you have told me," said 
 Walter earnestly, " is not more true than 
 that — I mean that you are unworthy of her 
 love — I must be excused for not sharing 
 your fears. Sooner or later, all must needs 
 be well with you, since justice rules the 
 world. The law allows you, being of full 
 age, to make your own choice in marriage ; 
 and in forbidding you to do so, your father
 
 92 Walters Word. 
 
 is himself disobedient to the law. You have 
 immediate happiness in prospect ; do not 
 dim its brightness by apprehensions that 
 time will show are groundless." 
 
 " I will try, indeed I will try, Mr. Litton, 
 to look on the bright side of things," sighed 
 poor Lotty, and, like a chidden child, she 
 dried her eyes, and strove to smile. 
 
 "That's a brave girl," said Walter ap- 
 provingly ; *' and here comes one to reward 
 you for your courage, and who will know 
 how to comfort you better than I." 
 
 That was the last effort which Litton 
 made to intrude his own personality, where, 
 it must be acknowledged, it had no rightful 
 place ; at the same time, it was very inno- 
 cently meant ; he did love her, with all his 
 heart, but with such a flame, that if his 
 heart had been of glass, it would have been 
 seen to burn with purity : there was no 
 noxious exhalations of envy or hatred of his 
 friend, nor did a thought of rivalship mingle 
 with it. He was content to be a brother to 
 Lotty, if she would have regarded him in 
 that light ; but even that, as it seemed, was 
 not to be. She was so wrapped up in others, 
 in her Eeginald, and in her own belongings,
 
 Mrs. Sheldon's Revenge. 93 
 
 that she had shown herself scarcely conscious 
 of his existence ; and with that acknowledg- 
 ment of his services of the previous day, as 
 it seemed, he must be content for evermore. 
 Her look, as she spoke it, was still mirrored 
 in his mind ; her words were stereotyped 
 there, beautiful to read and read again, like 
 some sacred text, all gilt and colour, which 
 a mother hangs on the wall of her child's 
 chamber, to meet his eyes at morn and eve ; 
 but there were to be no more such looks nor 
 words. Why should there be ! He had been 
 overpaid already for what he had done ; and 
 besides, there would have been danger in 
 such thanks. This he felt to be the case, 
 not so much from any consciousness of latent 
 longings for that forbidden fruit, as from his 
 indifference to other dainties. Mrs. Sheldon, 
 with whom he was thrown tete-a-fetey as a 
 matter of course, from that hour, until he 
 left Pen addon, was more than gracious to 
 him, but without kindling a spark of grati- 
 tude ; the position was expressed by the 
 formula of that great stumbling-block to the 
 female intellect, the Eule of Three : as Mr. 
 Litton's delicate attentions were to Lotty, so 
 were those of Mrs. Sheldon to Mr. Litton.
 
 94 Walters Word. 
 
 There were doubtless good points about 
 tbe character of his hostess, but she was not 
 so much above the average of her sex as to 
 take this insensibility in good part : that a 
 young man of two-and-twenty, no fool, in- 
 deed, but of a frank and simple nature, should 
 have such opportunities of a little flirtation 
 with her, and neglect them ; that she should 
 put forth all her strength to make him cap- 
 tive, and yet fail, was a circumstance that 
 she exceedingly resented. She knew some- 
 thing of his own art, and went out sketch- 
 ing with him to the most picturesque and 
 romance-inspiring spots, in vain ; she sang 
 to him to the music of the wave, yet proved 
 herself no siren ; she told him her own 
 touching history — so much of it, that is, as 
 it suited her to tell him — without evoking a 
 single spark of sympathy more than the 
 barest civility demanded. It was long since 
 she had made a conquest, and that made her 
 all the more eager to bring this young 
 gentleman to her feet : her weapons, she 
 flattered herself, were as formidable as ever, 
 and she had certainly not forgotten how to 
 use them. Yet he was as invulnerable as 
 Achilles. Why she wanted to wound him,
 
 Mrs. Sheldon^s Revenge. 95 
 
 she probably did not know herself, nor what 
 she would have done with the poor wretch, 
 had she succeeded. A man's intentions in 
 such cases, even if not honourable, are 
 generally definite ; a male " flirt," though 
 such a thing may exist, is a lusus naiurce. 
 Mrs. Sheldon was simply obeying an instinct 
 of nature; and just as a sportsman who 
 delights in shooting, though the contents of 
 the game-bag are not to be his own, is 
 annoyed at missing, so was she annoyed, and 
 even ashamed, at her ill success. 
 
 It is not with the mistress of Penaddon 
 Hall that this story has mainly to do, else 
 it would not be uninstructive to note the 
 rapidity with which the barometer of this 
 lady's feelings, with respect to the young 
 painter, rose and fell : within those few 
 days, the arrow performed a complete circle. 
 It pointed to " set fair" as long as it could, 
 and then something gave way (it was her 
 patience), and it fell to "very stormy." 
 
 On the day when the stick which poor 
 Walter had had to fetch was used upon his 
 own back — when the licence arrived, that is, 
 and he had "given" Lotty "away" to 
 Eeginald, and the happy pair had departed
 
 96 Walters Word. 
 
 for the honeymoon, and the fly that was to 
 take himself to the railway stood at the Hall 
 door, Mrs. Sheldon made him a farewell 
 present : not a piece of plate, but a piece of 
 her mind. 
 
 " I will not say I am glad you are going, 
 Mr. Litton," said she, as she held out her 
 hand, "yet I honestly confess it seems to 
 me that you have been here long enough, 
 for your own happiness and for that of 
 another." 
 
 Walter could scarcely believe his ears. 
 He had had a dim notion for some time 
 that this lady had been endeavouring to get 
 Tip a flirtation with him, to which, perhaps, 
 he had not responded very gallantly; but he 
 had taken Eeginald's statement, that she 
 had fallen in love with him, mostly as a 
 joke, for which, indeed, it was half intended ; 
 this sudden suggestion, therefore, made 
 apparently in all seriousness, that he had 
 fallen a victim to her charms, staggered him 
 not a little. To reply that he was sorry to 
 have made her unhappy, was a flight of 
 coxcombry beyond his powers, yet it really 
 seemed as if that was expected of him. 
 
 "Believe me, my dear Mrs. Sheldon,"
 
 Mrs. Sheldon s Revenge. 97 
 
 stammered he, '' I shall never forget these 
 days at Penaddon, and all that, thanks to 
 you, I have enjoyed during my visit." 
 
 " Endeavour rather to forget them," 
 ansvt^ered she gravely, " and especially 
 what you have missed. I know your 
 secret, and I will keep it, Mr. Litton; but 
 I cannot but express a sense of relief 
 that Lotty has left my roof and with her 
 husband.'' 
 
 With that Parthian shaft, she withdrew 
 into her sitting-room, closing the door 
 behind her, and leaving him standing in the 
 hall, transfixed ! He had had what is called 
 "a classical education," and the s])retcB 
 injuria formce of the poet recurred to his 
 memory with a blinding flash. If he had 
 despised the charms of his hostess, she had 
 certainly taken her revenge. 
 
 How wretched was that wearj^ drive over 
 the moor to Falmouth, which, unhappily 
 too, he could not but contrast with what it 
 must have been to the pair who had pre- 
 ceded him ! How desolate was the sea, 
 how barren the land, to his eyes, how bright 
 and glorious to theirs ! For them was love 
 and the fruition of it ! for him too was love — 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 Walters Word. 
 
 he confessed it; how could he ignore it, 
 when another had read it written on his 
 heart, through all the armour of duty, 
 friendship, honour, which he had put on in 
 vain, and with which he had striven to hide 
 it from himself! For him was love, alas, 
 and loneliness. The spring of his life was 
 broken, for hope was gone. If fame had 
 been that day within his reach, he would 
 not have cared to put forth his hand to 
 grasp it. Oh, evil hour, in which he had 
 consented to accompany his friend to the 
 fair south, and tend him! Penaddon was 
 hateful to him. He had many a record of 
 it in his sketch-book : its silver sands, its 
 quiet bay, its time-hallowed ruins by the 
 shore ; and he would burn them all. Yet 
 what would that avail, since the recollec- 
 tion of them — every spot she had admired, 
 every scene in which she had set foot — 
 would be ever present to his eyes ! As to 
 continuing in the neighbourhood, con- 
 cludino" there what he had once looked 
 forward to as his " holiday," that was not 
 to be thought of. He would return to 
 town and Work — would work his fingers 
 off, and his brains away, would kill himself
 
 Mrs. Sheldon's Revenge. 99 
 
 with work, if possible ; for the grave itself 
 seemed welcome to him ! 
 
 Poor Walter ! It is not at all times that 
 Heaven is kind, for refusing to lift the 
 curtain of our future ; we often groan and 
 writhe at the prospect of misfortunes which 
 do not come, although thej seem so near 
 that the very shadow of their approach 
 overwhelms us with its gloom ; and even 
 the wretchedness that is present, and makes 
 us in love with death, and seems beyond 
 relief, is not seldom mitigated, nay, 
 dissipated, by an unexpected ray coming 
 from an unlooked-for place — as though 
 dawn should break at midnight and from 
 the West — and making our murky sky a 
 cloudless blue. 
 
 7—2
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 IN BEECH STREET. 
 
 F there is any panacea for 
 wretchedness in this woeful world, 
 it is work, and work only. If 
 all the suicides, and the motives that led to 
 them, could be tabulated, it is certain that 
 the want of work— incapacity for it, or 
 inability to obtain it — would be found, in 
 nine cases out of ten, under the column 
 ** Cause ;" even the Hopeless — those who 
 work without prospect of reward in any 
 form — do not commonly leave the sunshine 
 for " the sunless land" while hand or brain 
 can still find employment. The uttermost 
 misery of human life is probably expressed 
 by that vulgar phrase which we read every 
 day applied to some starving wretch, in our 
 newspapers, with careless eyes, or at most
 
 In Beech Street. 101 
 
 with a shrug of our shoulders — " out of 
 work." Walter Litton was so far wise 
 that he knew this. Left to himself, while 
 still a lad, in the Great Babylon, amid 
 temptations against which no common 
 virtue is of avail, he had not succumbed to 
 them, mainly because he had set himself to 
 work ; while others of his age, though 
 under task-masters, had shii-ked it. His 
 nature was wholesome, and he kept it so, 
 by this simple means : in an atmosphere of 
 vice and pollution, he carried about with 
 him this purifier, this antidote, this dis- 
 infectant. He had faith, it is true, for his 
 mind was reverent, and he had had a good 
 mother ; but faith without work would not 
 have saved him. Among other marvellous 
 virtues which employment confers upon 
 him who has his heart in it, is a respect for 
 others who likewise toil. The honest 
 worker, no matter in what guild he is a 
 craftsman, feels no contempt for those who 
 labour in a humbler sphere. It is the 
 idler, useless to others, and a burden to 
 himself, who seeks to justify his own 
 indolence by despising these. We have 
 seen a State fall to pieces mainly from its
 
 102 Walter's Word. 
 
 own rottenness, wherein to work was held 
 to be shameful and a badge of servitude; 
 and the condition of the mere pleasure- 
 seeker is like unto it. At the least stroke 
 of misfortune, he collapses ; though, while 
 prosperity lasts, he sits above the thunder 
 like a god, and smiles contemptuously upon 
 the busy hands that supply his needs. 
 
 To those who are acquainted with artist- 
 life, there is nothing more characteristic 
 than the behaviour of a painter to his paid 
 sitter ; in this are found the extremes of 
 rudeness and refinement, of selfishness and 
 consideration, of coarseness and chivalry. 
 When the model happens to be of the 
 female sex, the case becomes all the more 
 significant. It is the opinion of the outer 
 world that ''the young persons" who sit for 
 the Imogens that adorn the walls of our 
 picture-galleries, or typify Innocence with 
 her dove, or Faith with her palm-branch, 
 do not afibrd what is called "improving" 
 society for the young artist, nor the young 
 artist for them. The whole Eoyal Academy, 
 on the other hand, are zealous to afiirm that 
 the pursuit of art is far too elevating to 
 permit its votaries to stoop to ignoble flirta-
 
 In Beech Street. 103 
 
 tion ; nay, that not only good taste, but a 
 certain reverence for their profession, com- 
 pels decorum — noblesse oblige — towards these 
 handmaidens. To differ from a E.A. upon 
 any question concerning his own calling, is 
 (as is w^ell known) an intolerable imper- 
 tinence ; and I will only venture to affirm 
 that, in the days when one frequented 
 studios, I remarked that honest young 
 gentlemen of the brush used a brusqueness 
 of manner towards their Imogen wdiich 
 suggested some distrust of their own virtue. 
 It is easier, I fancy (though, singularly 
 enough, it does not require so strong a 
 flight of fancy), to conceive a lay-figure to 
 be a young lady, than to conceive a young 
 lady to be a lay-figure ; and in order to 
 accomplish this latter feat, we must not be 
 too polite. 
 
 Mr. Jack Pelter, for example, who, as we 
 have mentioned, was wont to go halves in 
 his models of both sexes with his fellow- 
 lodger, Mr. Litton, was exceedingly gruff 
 and tyrannous with the " Imogens'/ — a 
 system which he had at first adopted from 
 prudential motives ; it had kept him heart- 
 whole while that organ had been young and
 
 104 Walters Word, 
 
 impressionable ; and now that it was tough 
 and leathery, and his soul defied enchant- 
 ment, he was gruff from habit. 
 
 " You're a precious deal too civil, young 
 fellow," he would growl to Litton, who, to 
 a woman, and a poor one, could not be 
 otherwise than the very pink of politeness ; 
 " and some day or another you'll repent it." 
 
 But no entanglement of the kind his 
 mentor had suggested had happened to 
 Litton, and it was less likely to happen now 
 than ever. He worked even more diligently 
 than before since his return from Penaddon; 
 but the recollection of her he had met and 
 lost there could not be thereby effaced ; his 
 heart was so occupied with Lotty, that is, 
 with fears and hopes upon her account — 
 " Would her father forgive her ? and if not, 
 Would her husband still be kind?" — that 
 the sacred place in it, in which a man keeps 
 the idols he worships without stain, had no 
 room for the image of another woman. 
 
 Otherwise, parents and guardians, ail 
 one's /emale relatives, and men of the world 
 generally (who know everything, and yet 
 believe in nothing), would have thought it 
 a dangerous thing for him to be painting
 
 In Beech Street. 105 
 
 Nellie Neale for two hours per diem in an 
 attitude of supplication. What made it 
 more dangerous for him, they would have 
 thought (and also for her, if such young 
 persons were worth thinking of at all), was, 
 that Miss Ellen Neale was not a professional 
 model. She was the daughter of '' a cobbler 
 who lived" — or at least laboured — " in a 
 stall" at the corner of a neighbouring street, 
 and had never before " sat" to an artist. 
 Litton, who was far from being a dandy, 
 had business relations with her father ; and 
 while bidding him send for a pair of boots 
 that wanted mending, had seen this pretty 
 little creature bring him his midday meal 
 from home, wrapped neatly up in a basket ; 
 from which circumstance he had christened 
 her on the spot Eed Kiding-hood, and she 
 had learned in time to call him grand- 
 mamma. The honest young fellow perhaps 
 adopted this latter title to give him a 
 reverence in her eyes, which his years and 
 looks might well have failed to extort from 
 her; and if that blood-relationship- had 
 actually existed between them, his behaviour 
 towards her could not have been more 
 exemplary. Mr. Jack Pelter had not been
 
 106 Walters Word, 
 
 in town when this young lady's professional 
 services had been secured, nor was he now 
 in need of an " Imogen," pecuniary necessi- 
 ties, consequent upon certain extravagances 
 of the vacation, having caused him to con- 
 fine himself to the less sublimated but more 
 remunerative occupation of portrait-paint- 
 ing; so Walter had his present model to 
 himself. He also had been taking portraits 
 since his return from Pen addon ; and though 
 not disposed of at a very high figure, these 
 had furnished him with funds for more than 
 his needs, as well as provided him with this 
 excellent counterfeit presentment of Philippa, 
 Edward's queen, in the act of beseeching 
 that monarch to spare the lives of the 
 citizens of Calais. 
 
 "A very uncommon subject, truly," said 
 Jack Pelter, in his usual character of cynical, 
 but friendly critic. "But why not strike 
 out something perfectly original, my dear 
 fellow — such as the Finding of Harold's 
 Body after Hastings?" 
 
 " Because I mean to show," returned the 
 other with equal gravity, " how a great 
 artist can appropriate a story, however often 
 pictured, and make it his own on canvas,
 
 In Beech Street. 107 
 
 just as Shakspeare has done in litera- 
 ture/' 
 
 So every afternoon, from two until the 
 wintry dusk closed in, Philippa of Hainault 
 knelt upon a soft cushion of Utrecht velvet 
 (or something like it), on the second floor of 
 No. 99, Beech Street, and held up prayer- 
 ful hands to the stern Edward, who thus 
 replied to her supplications : " The head 
 a shade more to the right— the hands a 
 little lower — ^just the faintest smile, as 
 if you saw the ruffian was yielding. 
 Thank you; that's beautiful" (which it 
 was), " If you are getting to feel stiff 
 or tired, Eed Eiding-hood, be sure to 
 mention it." 
 
 " I do just a little, grandmamma." 
 " Then get up, and trot about." 
 This happened many times during each 
 sitting, if Queen Philippa's position could 
 be called so ; and on one occasion, just after 
 one of these trottings about, and when 
 Nellie had fallen on her knees again, and 
 was about to supplicate for the poor citizens 
 with renewed vigour, there was a knock at 
 the door, and in walked Captain Eeginald 
 Selwyn. The house in Beech Street did not
 
 108 Walter's Word. 
 
 boast of any groom of the chambers ; when 
 the front-door bell was rung, a diminutive 
 maid-of- all-work answered it, and directed 
 the ringer to the first or second floor, ac- 
 cording as Mr. John Pelter or his friend 
 was the object of his visit ; neither of them 
 had many callers, but Litton had far fewer 
 than Pelter ; the time had not yet come, if 
 it was ever to do so, when critics should 
 drop in, who would have a word to say, 
 under the head of Art Grossip, about the 
 forthcoming picture by Mr. W. Litton ; and 
 still less for patrons or picture-dealers to 
 show their critical faces, with a view of be- 
 speaking some immortal work before it left 
 the easel. So Walter expected no company 
 on that day, but least of all a visit from 
 Eeginald Selwyn. Many months had elapsed 
 since the marriage of which he had himself 
 been the aider and abettor, but not a line 
 had the captain written to him from the day 
 they had parted at Penaddon Hall ; nor 
 could his wounded arm have been an excuse 
 for so long a silence, for there he stood in 
 the door- way, with all his limbs like other 
 people's, except that they looked more 
 shapely and strong than most, which indeed
 
 In Beech Street 109 
 
 they were. His face had lost its pallor, but 
 also, or so it seemed to "Walter's attentive 
 eyes, much of its gaiety and brightness. 
 
 " Why, Litton, my good fellow, you must 
 have thought me dead, as well as ' done for/ 
 Matri " 
 
 Here his glance lit upon Philippa, 
 Edward's queen, who had risen hastily from 
 her cushion, and was regarding the new- 
 comer with much embarrassment. It was 
 the first time that her sittings had been 
 intruded upon by any one, save Mr. Pelter, 
 whom she did not '* mind," and looked upon 
 as another "grandmamma." 
 
 " I think we will finish for to-day. Miss 
 Neale," said Walter quickly, " as our time 
 is nearly up, and this is an old friend whom 
 I have not seen for long." 
 
 " I hope the young lady will not go on 
 my account," said the captain gallantly. 
 
 But Xellie had already exchanged her 
 higrh-peaked head-gear for the bonnet of 
 everyday life, and thrown over her mediaeval 
 robes her warm winter cloak ; and while 
 Walter w^as once more explaining that the 
 sitting had been nearly over in any case, she 
 slipped througn the door, which Selwyn
 
 110 • Walters Word, 
 
 held open for her, and with a hurried how, 
 in acknowledgment of that civility, was 
 gone. 
 
 " By Jove !" said the captain gravely, 
 " this is what you artists call the pursuit of 
 your profession, is it ? I don't wonder that 
 portrait-painting is so popular ?" 
 
 *' My dear Selwyn, you don't suppose that 
 that poor girl comes here to have her por- 
 trait taken, do you ?" 
 
 " No ; by jingo ! I don't," answered the 
 captain sententiously. 
 
 " I mean," continued Walter, with reso- 
 lute sedateness, " that though my patrons 
 are not unhappily in the highest position in 
 society, Miss Neale is not one of them. She 
 is a good honest girl, who helps her father 
 by sitthig to me as a model for a few 
 shillings an hour." 
 
 " 0, indeed ! she is a model, is she ?" re- 
 turned the captain, still very incredulously. 
 "A model of what?" 
 
 " Oh, of anything, according to the sub- 
 ject, you know." 
 
 Nothing would have been easier, or more 
 convincing, one would have thought, than 
 to have shown his friend the picture of
 
 In Beech Street. Ill 
 
 Philippa — which was already advanced 
 towards completion — in corroboration of 
 this statement ; but Walter's first act, on 
 seeing the captain, had been to throw a 
 lar^e piece of linen over the work in ques- 
 tion, and rapidly ply his brush on another 
 piece of canvas, which, as it so happened, 
 did not represent the female face divine 
 at all. 
 
 " Why, that's the old church at Penaddon, 
 surely," exclaimed Selwyn, whose attention 
 was easily diverted from one subject to 
 another. "It's just as well you should 
 have sketched it when you did, for my 
 aunt writes me that these stormy seas have 
 eaten into it worse than ever this winter, so 
 that there is hardly any of it left." 
 
 ''Well, never mind the church," said 
 Walter ; "I want to hear of your own 
 affairs. How are i/ou, old fellow, and — and 
 — Mrs. Selwyn ?" 
 
 He felt that he was blushing, hesitating, 
 and making a mess of his kind inquiries 
 generally, for the idea had struck him it 
 was just possible that Mrs. Sheldon might 
 have written to her nephew about some- 
 thing else beside the encroachments of the
 
 112 Walter's Word. 
 
 sea — might, out of spite and malice, have 
 communicated to him that suspicion about 
 himself, which had overwhelmed him with 
 such confusion on his departure from 
 Penaddon. 
 
 " Oh, I'm well enough, and Lotty too," 
 said the captain — " that is, in health ; but 
 that old hunks, her father, will not have a 
 word to say to us, and what is of much 
 more consequence, will not help us with so 
 much as a sixpenny-piece. We are having 
 a very rough time of it, I can tell you." 
 
 " I am very, very sorry to hear it," said 
 Walter earnestly, his mind reverting to the 
 fate his apprehensions had prefigured for 
 Lotty, exposed to the keen bite of poverty, 
 and shorn of all the comforts that had by 
 use become necessities to her — a beautiful 
 and tender flower fading and failing for 
 want of light and air. 
 
 "Yes, it is an ugly story, Litton, and 
 likely to be uglier. It was a risky thing, 
 that marriage of mine, of course, but I 
 never dreamt that things would have gone 
 so deuced hard with me. My sick-leave 
 cannot last for ever, and yet I can't go 
 back to my regiment as a married man.
 
 In Beech Street. 113 
 
 We couldn't live — no, not even in barracks 
 — and that's the short and long of it." 
 
 " But surely, my dear friend, other people 
 who are captains in the army " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; but they don't owe a couple 
 of thousand pounds to start with," broke in 
 the other impatiently. " It's no use crying 
 over spilt milk, but the fact is I have made 
 a precious mess of it. There will be nothing 
 for it but to sell my commission, and then 
 to cut and run, before the Jews can get 
 hold of me. Talk about the miseries of 
 human life ; I don't believe there's any one 
 of them to compare with the want of ready 
 money !" 
 
 " How very, very sorry I am," repeated 
 Walter. 
 
 " Yes ; I am sure you are ; but I wish I 
 could make old Brown sorry. Lilian does 
 her best to move him, she says, and perhaps 
 she does; but no doubt there is a great 
 temptation to her to keep us out of the 
 old man's favour. He has a hundred 
 thousand pounds to leave, if he has a 
 penny; and that is a much better thing 
 than a hundred thousand pounds divided 
 by twOy you see ; for there is no doubt 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 Walters Word. 
 
 about it that Lotty was to have been Lily's 
 co-heiress." 
 
 ''But surely your sister-in-law would 
 never be actuated by such a base motive ? 
 Your wife, I kuow, has the greatest affec- 
 tion for her, and complete confidence in 
 her goodness." 
 
 *' So she had in 7mne, for that matter," 
 observed the captain with a sneer ; " yet, I 
 suppose, I was not much better than other 
 people. I say nothing against Lilian ; only 
 it does seem strange that she can't do 
 anything for us with the old fellow. He 
 has some natural affection, I suppose, in 
 spite of his treatment of Lotty, and a 
 woman can always bring a man round, if 
 she will take the trouble." 
 
 '' How old is your father-in-law ?" in- 
 quired Walter. 
 
 " '' Oh, there's no chance of his popping off 
 the hooks, if you mean that. He's no 
 chicken, it is true ; but he's one of those 
 City fogies who are as tough as gutta- 
 percha, and take a deal of care of them- 
 selves into the bargain. I daresay, if any- 
 thing was to happen to him — I am sure I 
 wish him in Heaven — Lilian would do
 
 In Beech Street. 115 
 
 something for us, though not one-tenth of 
 what my wife expects of her ; but wliile 
 the grass is growing that is to cover his 
 grave, the steed will starve, mj good 
 fellow." 
 
 " I was not alluding to his death," ob- 
 served Walter thoughtfully ; " but I have 
 noticed, even in my guardian of late, and 
 much more in other old men, that, with in- 
 creasing age, the character softens." 
 
 "The brain may do so," answered the 
 captain contemptuously, " but not — at least, 
 I'll answer for it in old Brown's case — the 
 disposition. He's as hard as nails. If I 
 could get the commander-in-chief, or some 
 tremendous swell, to intercede for us with 
 him, instead of his own daughter, some- 
 thing might be done, I believe, for lie's a 
 snob to the backbone. He would grovel on 
 all-fours, I understand, before a peer of the 
 realm." 
 
 " Then he ought to be at least tolerably 
 civil to the heir-presumptive of a baronetcy." 
 
 " Well, ridiculous as it seems, Litton, that 
 is the one hope I have of circumventing: the 
 old fellow. If my first-cousin was to die — 
 and I hear he is in a very ticklish state — I 
 
 8—2
 
 116 Walters Word. 
 
 "hoiiestly believe that my self-made father- 
 in-law would not show himself so utterly 
 inexorable to me as Sir Eeginald ; it is not 
 in his British nature. But there ! when do 
 one's relatives ever die, or do anything else 
 you want of them, when they promise it? 
 No, no ; my cousin will come round, if it is 
 but to spite me, and 1 shall starve to death 
 as plain Eeginald Selwyn." 
 
 " When you speak of starving, my dear 
 Eeginald, you are, of course, merely using 
 a very violent metaphor," said Walter with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " I don't know about a metaphor," an- 
 swered the captain ; " but this half- 
 sovereign," and he took one out of his 
 waistcoat pocket, and held it between his 
 finger and thumb, '' is the very last of all 
 the Mohicans ; and when that's gone, I 
 shall not know where to turn for another. 
 Lilian has helped her sister a little out of 
 her private funds ; but, as though the old 
 wretch suspected that she might be giving 
 us assistance, her father keeps her very ill 
 supplied." 
 
 Throughout this interview the captain 
 had been smoking a very excellent cigar,
 
 In Beech Street. 117 
 
 which could not have cost less than 
 eightpence in Eegent Street ; but this was 
 doubtless either one of the large stock he 
 had in hand when he became a Benedict, or 
 he was smoking it — in which view it might 
 be considered economical — as l^orth Ameri- 
 can Indians smoke their pipes, in order to 
 allay the pangs of hunger. 
 
 " I regret indeed," said Walter, blushing 
 exceedingly as his manner was when em- 
 barrassed, "that you should have allowed 
 yourself to come to such straits without 
 applying to an old friend. I have been 
 taking portraits wholesale, and have quite a 
 balance at my banker's. Come, let me lend 
 3^ou fifty pounds ;" and he pulled out his 
 cheque-book. 
 
 " You are the best fellow out," said the 
 captain ; '' but it is a deuced unpleasant 
 thing to borrow of one's friends. Now what 
 is Lilian's is Lotty's, or ought to be so ; so 
 in that case I feel no compunctions " 
 
 "Then you should feel them still less 
 with me," interrupted Walter., thrusting the 
 cheque into his hand. " You would borrow 
 my umbrella if it rained, I suppose, and I 
 had no occasion to go out ; theii why not
 
 118 Walter's Word. 
 
 my money when I don't want it? What a 
 fuss is made in the world about borrowing 
 or lending a few pounds ! You may ask for 
 a shilling to pay your cab- fare, if you have 
 no change, but gold is a sacred commodity, 
 it appears." 
 
 "It's a commodity that it is precious 
 inconvenient to be without, old fellow," said 
 the captain, putting the cheque in his empty 
 purse. " I wont give you an I.O.U., for 
 that would be waste paper, but I will pay 
 you when I can, upon my honour. You 
 don't suppose, I hope, that I came here to- 
 day, Litton, with any Expectation of becom- 
 ing your debtor ?" 
 
 " Good heavens, Selwyn, how you talk," 
 exclaimed Walter; ''of course I suppose 
 nothing of the kind. I took it for granted 
 that you came to see me, as one of your 
 oldest friends ; when / come to see you, it 
 will not be concluded, I hope, that I come 
 as a creditor?" 
 
 "Don't be savage with me, my good 
 Litton," returned the captain gravely. " I 
 daresay I don't express myself very prettily, 
 but the fact is I'm soured. The harrow of 
 poverty takes all the skin off the man that
 
 In Beech Street. 119 
 
 is under it, and makes him tender to touch. 
 He thinks everybody is crediting him with 
 the basest motives, and in denying them — 
 qui s' excuse s' accuse — he seems to others to 
 acknowledge their existence. I know I'm 
 savage with everybody, and quite as ready 
 to pick a quarrel as a friend's pocket." 
 
 Walter did not reply ; he pitied Selwyn, 
 but he pitied Lotty infinitely more. What 
 a life must she be leading, destitute of 
 material comforts, and exposed to the out- 
 breaks of her husband's temper, " soured," 
 as he confessed himself to be, by disappoint- 
 ment, and " savage with everybody !" Was 
 it possible that he could give any assistance 
 to her, beside money ? he wondered. If he 
 were to see her, perhaps she could suggest 
 something — and his heart did yearn to see 
 her. 
 
 " There's another thing," continued 
 Selwyn bitterly, " which poverty — ' the test 
 of virtue,' ' the tonic bitters of life,' as fools 
 have called it — does for me — it makes one 
 as proud as Lucifer. Nothing, for example, 
 would seem more natural to you than that I 
 should say : ' Well, our home is a very 
 humble one at present ; but that will make
 
 120 Walters Word. 
 
 no difference to yon, old friend, so come and 
 see us.' I know it would make no difference 
 to you, and yet I don't want to see you 
 there." 
 
 " Is it worse tlian this ?" asked Walter, 
 laughing, and looking round his own apart- 
 ment, which was of no palatial proportions, 
 and presented such a scene of picturesque 
 disorder — and I am afraid I must add, of 
 dirt — as is only seen in studios. 
 
 " Well, no ; our London lodgings are not 
 so bare as my barrack-rooms, perhaps, to 
 which you have been always welcome ; but 
 they are not sugh lodgings as are fit for my 
 wife to receive company in." 
 
 "You are the best judge of that," said 
 Walter quietly. This was an unexpected 
 blow, yet even while he staggered under it, 
 he felt that the punishment was wholesome; 
 his devotion to Mrs. Selwyn was perfectly 
 innocent ; but for his own happiness he felt 
 that it was better that that "yearning" of 
 his to see her should not be gratified. He 
 could not have resisted the temptation to do 
 so had it been offered, but neither would he 
 fight against his friend's denial. 
 
 "You shall come and see Sir Eeginald
 
 In Beech Street 121 
 
 and liis lady," said the captain, laughing, 
 '• and be invited, as their friend, to dine 
 with the great Brown. That old villain 
 has got some particular Madeira, the 
 thought of which makes me still more 
 impatient of my position, since every day 
 by wliich our reconciliation is postponed (for 
 he drinks it dail}^) makes an inroad on the 
 bin. — How hard you must have been 
 working lately, Litton !" Here the captain 
 began to look about him for the first time, 
 his whole attention having been previously 
 occupied in twirling and flattening his 
 moustaches, a sure sign that he had been 
 ill at ease. " I wonder if I've had any of 
 yoyr pictures from old Levi : he always 
 gives half in pictures, and I've got quite a 
 gallery of them, ancient and modern. 
 Wh}^, what's this ?" and he threw aside the 
 linen cloth that hung over the portrait of 
 Philippa, Edward's queen. 
 
 "Oh, that's unfinished," said Walter 
 hastily, " and I hate my pictures to be 
 looked at till they are finished." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense, man, you don't mind 
 7)16,'' said the captain, persisting as usual in 
 the indulgence of his own whim. " Why,
 
 122 Walter's Word. 
 
 this is the best picture of the lot, to my 
 taste. So this is Miss Neale, is it ? Well, 
 I confess I should never have recognised 
 her but for the costume. This is a much 
 fairer girl — more like the style of Lotty." 
 
 " Do you think so ?" said Walter. His 
 tone was careless, but his face was very 
 pale. " It is only a sketch, a portion of a 
 larger picture. Perhaps you would like to 
 sit for her husband, King Edward, in 
 chain- armour ; I will give you half-a-crown 
 an hour, and your beer." 
 
 " You should have made that offer before 
 you lent me these fifty pounds," laughed 
 the captain, tapping his pocket. " Well, 
 good-bye, old fellow, for the present ; and if 
 I have any good news, you may be sure 
 you will be the first to hear it." They 
 parted very cordially, but Walter did not 
 accompany his friend downstairs. He stood 
 gazing at the uncovered picture, and mutter- 
 ing scornfully to himself: " I need not have 
 been so apprehensive," ran his thoughts j 
 " his indifference makes him blind. ' More 
 like the style of Lotty,' he said. Perhaps 
 she pleads with him like this, sometimes — 
 upon her knees. Poor Lotty !"
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 MR. JOHN PELTER AS MENTOR. 
 
 T is astonisliiDg how the profession 
 of Love — that is, the love of 
 man for woman, or vice versa. — 
 being of such endless variety, should be 
 described by poets and philosophers as of 
 only two or three kinds, or even " lumped" 
 (as Pope, for instance, lumps it) into one. 
 Monomania, fever, atrophy, have each their 
 name and place in medical science ; but all 
 these diseases, and many others, are in 
 psychology spoken of as one, as though no 
 diiference existed between them. There is, 
 it is true, an admitted pecuharity in the 
 case of what is called a Platonic attach- 
 ment ; but this term is seldom used, except 
 in irony, and I am inclined to think that 
 those who so make use of it are right. I
 
 ]24 Walter's Word. 
 
 have rarely known a Platonic attachment 
 where the lady, at least, would not have 
 married the gentleman if she could. That 
 love itself is Protean in its outward shape, 
 is (in spite of the poets) now allowed. We 
 admit that the sweetness and light of the 
 world do not change (as Byron, for instance, 
 would have us believe) to gall and darkness, 
 to Cory don because Phyllis rejects him ; or 
 that the sun seems to shine for him by 
 night, and roses to bloom for him in 
 February, if she accepts him. He is pleased 
 and gratified, of course ; more so doubtless 
 than if he had won five shillings at skittles ; 
 yet not more, perhaps, than if he had won 
 fiwe pounds. I am speaking of a Corydon 
 of the humbler classes, of course, when I 
 mention so vulgar a game and such small 
 amounts ; but if Corydon was a born gentle- 
 man, and, in the practice of his profession, 
 the Turf, should pull ofi", say, fifty thousand 
 pounds on a double event, that would 
 probably give him almost as much pleasure 
 as being accepted by Phyllis. 
 
 ** Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his 
 
 glowing hands; 
 Every moment lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands ;"
 
 Mr. John Pelter as Mentor. 125 
 
 but if such luck as we have supposed should 
 happen to a gentleman sportsman, don't you 
 think the glass of Time would run itself 
 into just as golden sands as if Love held it? 
 I must confess I do. Of course there are 
 some young persons who, being denied by 
 their Beloved Objects, immediately go and 
 hang themselves ; but these are fortunately 
 exceptional cases, which do not materially 
 affect the census returns. A more 
 numerous class plunge into dissipation ; a 
 remedy which, though (besides other serious 
 objections to it) it may kill as well as cure, 
 has undoubtedly been found to be eflBcacious. 
 Others have the good fortune to see some 
 other nice young woman, the next day, or 
 the next month, after the disappointment, 
 and get over it by marrying her. All of 
 us are agreed that there are many ways of 
 meeting a misfortune of this kind, as weU 
 as many ways of expressing our bliss upon 
 receiving an answer from Phyllis in the 
 affirmative ; and yet almost all are resolute 
 to affirm that the love of Corydon for 
 Phyllis is the same all the world over. 
 This is a great error. Without any tres- 
 pass upon that dangerous ground of Platonic
 
 126 Walter's Word, 
 
 attachment, a man may adore a woman with 
 honesty and honour, whom it is utterly out 
 of the question that he should marry, from 
 whom it is impossible that he should receive 
 any greater favours than a clasp of the hand 
 or a kind word. The type is not common, 
 because the Phyllises who are capable of 
 inspiring such a passion are few ; and such 
 disinterested Corydons are few : but it 
 exists. Such a love, for example, would 
 have been entertained by Warrington for 
 Laura, if he had met her in the first 
 instance as the wife of Pendennis. There 
 would have been no harm in such an 
 attachment, nor thought of harm ; but it 
 could not have been expressed by the terms 
 respect, regard, or friendship ; nay, it would 
 comprehend a devotion for Mrs. P. not 
 entertained, perhaps, even by Mr. Arthur 
 Pendennis himself. 
 
 It was some absorbing feeling of this 
 sort which filled Walter Litton' s soul with 
 respect to Lotty; in some cases, it might 
 not have been a disadvantageous one — 
 indeed, an unselfish passion of this sort is 
 often most advantageous — but Waiter was 
 too young for such a gracious burden, not,
 
 Mr. John Pelter as Mentor, 127 
 
 as he imagined, because life lay before him 
 lone and barren for so many years, but 
 because he lacked the discipline of life ; he 
 could not free himself from its influence at 
 pleasure, and though he could forget it — 
 that is, the smart of it — in occupation, it 
 pervaded even the work of his hands. It is 
 certain that his present picture profited by 
 this. Love, " the more ideal artist he than 
 all," had given a spirituality to the expres- 
 sion of Philippa, Edward's qneen, which 
 Miss Xellie Neale, and perhaps even Lotty 
 herself, did not possess ; it was, in fact, a 
 glorified likeness of the latter, a likeness 
 that might easily escape the eyes of such 
 as were but slightly accj^uainted with her, 
 or had not seen her under circumstances 
 calculated to evoke her deeper feelings, but 
 which would strike most forcibly those who 
 knew her best. Without, of course, recog- 
 nising the source of his friend's inspiration, 
 or even beins: aware of what it was, Mr. 
 John Pelter perceived that this portrait was 
 far in advance of anything that the young 
 fellow had yet achieved; and he told him 
 so, after his peculiar fashion, puffing at his 
 pipe, and regarding this che/-d' ceuvre with
 
 128 Walters Word. 
 
 his huge flax-covered head sloped to the 
 critical angle. 
 
 " My dear Watty," said he, " I don't wish 
 to flatter yon, but that's the most like a 
 human creature of anything that you have 
 yet turned out." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so," returned 
 Walter, well pleased with this moderate 
 praise, which indeed, in Jack Pelter's 
 mouth, implied far beyond what it ex- 
 pressed. A huge good-natured giant was 
 Jack, who knew much more of his profes- 
 sion, though he seldom used the slang of it, 
 than many a man who can discourse of " his 
 art" by the hour, and leave his hearers in 
 the most inextricable entanglement ; a man, 
 it was true, who cared little to be known by 
 She world at large, so long as he was known 
 by the dealers, and was supplied by them 
 with the funds suflScient for his not extra- 
 vagant needs, but who worked as honestly, 
 after his lights, as Eaphael, whose cartoons 
 he believed to be the most valuable bequest 
 that any living being has left to posterity. 
 
 "Yes, Watty, this is a great advance 
 upon your ' Drunken Organ-grinders' — I 
 beg your pardon, your ' Brigands Carous-
 
 Mr. John Pelter as Mentor. 129 
 
 ing.' The young woman's foot here is out 
 of drawing, and I daresay the other would 
 be, if it wasn't covered by her train ; but 
 the picture is good, sir — it's good." And 
 Mr. John Pelter stepped back from it 
 slowly, upsetting '' Penaddon Church" as he 
 did so, and once more regarded it with 
 fixed attention. " You must not lump any 
 King Edwards with a lot of this kind," con- 
 tinued Jack, " or else you'll spoil it." 
 
 " But Queen Philippa must be kneeling 
 to somebody^' urged Walter. 
 
 " Then don't let her be Queen Philippa 
 at all. That high head-dress may very well 
 be taken for a fool's cap ; and if you write 
 ' Forfeits ' under it, the whole thmg will 
 explain itself. 'Who is the owner of this 
 pretty thing ? Let her kneel in one corner, 
 dance in another,' and so on. There ; don't 
 be affronted ; I'm only joking, so far as re- 
 gards the title. The girl must kneel alone, 
 that's certain. Chuck your Pinnock's Eng- 
 land overboard, cut away the rest of the 
 canvas, and call her ' Supplication.' " 
 
 " Upon my life, Jack, I think that a 
 good idea." 
 
 " Of course it is. Send out for something 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 Walter's Word. 
 
 to drink its health in. '0 for a draught of 
 vintage full of the warm South/ something 
 delicate and tasty, and redolent of the 
 subject. Jenny !" roared he from the top 
 of the stairs, " fetch a pot of stout." 
 
 Over this refreshment they discoursed the 
 future of the immortal work. 
 
 " That must not go to the Gallery, or 
 any of those places, Watty," said Jack, 
 whom the generous liquor had rendered still 
 more eulogistic. " You must have a shy 
 with it at the big shop." 
 
 " I am sick of trying there," answered 
 Walter despondently. 
 
 " Sick of trying ! Why, you have not 
 got a grey hair on your head ! If you were 
 m;i/ age" (Jack was about thirty), "you 
 might talk of blighted hopes." 
 
 " But you have been hung, and in good 
 places too ; and yet I have heard you say 
 that you had just as soon your pictures 
 went to the Gallery, or straight to Pall 
 Mall " 
 
 " Well, well ; that's because I wanted the 
 money," interrupted the other, with irrita- 
 tion. " Don't you mind about me. If I 
 said I don't care about fame, perhaps I was
 
 Mr. John Pelter as Mentor, 131 
 
 wrong, or perhaps I lied. Your case, at all 
 events, is different. Follow my advice, 
 Watty, my boy, and send ' Supplication ' to 
 run its chance with the committee. They 
 do sometimes take a thing on its own merits. 
 Eemember how Campbell was hung last 
 year, through MacCollop, E.A., taking him 
 for a fellow-countryman. 'Death by mis- 
 adventure,' as somebody said of it, when all 
 the newspapers were down upon his daub." 
 
 '' You are very encouraging," said Walter, 
 smiling; "but nevertheless I will try the 
 big shop." 
 
 In spite of Walter's pretended irony, 
 there was great encouragement in Pelter's 
 recommendation. Jack was not above the 
 weaknesses of his calling, and could abuse a 
 brother artist — who was successful — as 
 roundly as any one. But he was singularly 
 just and honest in the main. His tender- 
 ness for his young friend was great. It is 
 not too much to say that his hopes for his 
 success were higher than for his own ; for 
 he was one of that increasing class who are 
 not ambitious either of fame or fortune. 
 As long as he could earn a competence he 
 was satisfied with the result of his own 
 
 9—2
 
 132 Walter's Word, 
 
 labours ; and a competence with him meant 
 something very modest indeed. It is not a 
 good sign in our social life that so many 
 men, even in comparative youth, are be- 
 coming indifferent to great gains and high 
 distinction : if such sentiments were uni- 
 versal, the production of anything really 
 great in any line of life would be rendered 
 impossible ; but it is only the natural re- 
 bound from that excessive struggle to get a 
 head and shoulders above their fellows 
 which distinguished the last generation, not 
 altogether to its credit. In that contest, 
 Friendship too often went to the wall, and 
 every generous impulse was trodden under 
 foot, in order that Self should rise supreme. 
 There is no better excuse for indolence than 
 the spectacle of successful Diligence standing 
 all alone upon its pedestal, without friend 
 or lover, a mark not only for envy, but for 
 deserved contempt ; and Mr. John Pelter 
 had seen, or fancied he had seen, not a few 
 eminent gentlemen of his own profession in 
 that isolated position. By toiling and 
 scraping, and denying himself all the 
 delights of youth, there is no man so great 
 a fool, he would argue, but that he can
 
 Mr. John Pelter as Mentor. 133 
 
 acquire for himself a Leap of money — only 
 to find that, by long disuse, he has lost the 
 faculty of enjoyment. There was no great 
 fear of this in ]\Ir. Pelter's individual case : 
 his capacity for pleasure was so considerable, 
 that some of it would certainly have re- 
 mained with him under the most disadvan- 
 tageous circumstances ; but it suited him to 
 adopt this theory, which, it is fair to say, 
 he acted up to in a very conscientious 
 manner. He worked well, never " scamp- 
 ing " a square inch of that which he set his 
 brush to do, but never overworked himself; 
 he took his time over his canvas, and his 
 ease, and did not trouble himself much with 
 speculations upon the verdict of posterity. 
 The verdict of posterity, he would philo- 
 sophically explain over his pipe and pot, 
 was, in its relation to art, merely the judg- 
 ment of a set of people removed by one or 
 more degrees farther from the great lights 
 of antiquity than we ourselves, and who 
 were therefore less qualified to give an 
 opinion. All that was best and greatest 
 lay in the past; and though the present 
 might not be a great age — indeed, he had 
 very little belief in its being so — yet it was
 
 134 Walters Word. 
 
 only reasonable, by the argument of analogy, 
 to suppose it would be superior to the 
 future. Why then make, such a fuss about 
 posterity? The fact was, that in Mr. 
 Pelter's eyes posterity was but the next 
 generation of picture dealers. For his own 
 works he had no ambition ; no desire for 
 fame, and very little even for profit ; but for 
 those of his friend he allowed himself some 
 hopes. He liked the young fellow dearly, 
 and had a genuine admiration for his talents, 
 which he wished to see made use of to the 
 best advantage. Perhaps he had a secret 
 conviction that he had missed his mark in 
 the world, and was solicitous that Walter 
 should have better fortune.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ACADEMY CIRCULAR. 
 
 OXCE knew a very clever but 
 paradoxical man who was wont 
 to explain that, upon the whole. 
 the British House of Peers were created 
 from personal merit : his line of argument I 
 forget, and, indeed, though urged with great 
 ingenuity, it was somewhat difficult to 
 follow even when in process ; but I am 
 nearly sure that genuine conviction animated 
 it, until he became a peer himself; after 
 which, modesty, or perhaps some innate 
 sense of humour (in which I had always 
 thought him deficient), sealed his lips upon 
 that subject. There is a natural and 
 wholesome desire on the part of the public 
 to believe such things. I very much ques- 
 tion whether nine people in ten do not
 
 136 Walter's Word. 
 
 entertain the delusion that a silk gown (for 
 example) is an honour conferred upon 
 barristers for eminence in their profession : 
 and I am quite sure that it would shock them 
 to hear, that for every Victoria Cross that 
 is given for valour, half a dozen are applied 
 for in vain. Folks in the country even 
 believe that pictures are accepted or rejected 
 in the Eoyal Academy every year solely 
 upon their own merits ; that the Hanging 
 Committee know nothing about them ; that 
 they are sent in without name or address, 
 and simply with a motto — like the poems 
 that compete for the Newdigate or the Chan- 
 cellor's medal — and are adjudicated upon 
 without any personal reference to the 
 artists. And yet these good people would 
 be quite insulted if you inquired if they 
 believed in the Millennium. 
 
 Walter Litton knew very few E.A.'s, and 
 none who were upon the Hanging Com- 
 mittee of that year. No member of it was in- 
 veigled into the second floor in Beech Street, 
 and persuaded to cast his eye upon "Supplica- 
 tion," in order that when he saw it again 
 upon a certain momentous occasion recogni- 
 tion might follow. Jack Pelter would have
 
 The Academy Circular. 137 
 
 done him that good turn — for he was one 
 of those who will do for a friend what 
 " wild horses" would not have compelled 
 him to do for himself — but Walter declined 
 the offer. 
 
 " Mj dear Jack," said he, " you are most 
 kind ; but I would rather the thing stood 
 on its own hook." 
 
 " I want it to hang on the Line," was 
 Jack's curt rejoinder. 
 
 " Well, I hope it will, or, at all events, 
 somewhere. It may be very foolish of me, 
 and very sanguine, but I have great con- 
 fidence " 
 
 " In the committee ?" broke in Pelter. 
 " Then you must be very foolish and very 
 sanguine indeed." 
 
 "No; in the merits of the picture." 
 
 "Grad, how I wish I was your age!" 
 sighed Jack. " Do you think it will be 
 bought for the nation ?" 
 
 " I don't wish it to be bought at all." 
 
 "Oh, I see ; you v>'ant to keep it for your 
 diplom.a picture." 
 
 But though Jack was thus cynical with 
 his friend, he had a high opinion of the 
 excellence of this particular piece of work,
 
 138 Walters Word. 
 
 over which Walter expended a prodigious 
 amount of time and pains. His usual 
 habit was to tire of his productions. He 
 was bj no means a careless worker, but ere 
 he had finished one picture his mind had 
 begun to be busy with its successor. He 
 had always deemed his last work the best, 
 of course, but his last would be nothing 
 to that which was to follow it ; the germs 
 of which chef-d'oeuvre were already sprouting 
 in his brain. But with " Supplication" the 
 case was different. Every detail was wrought 
 up to the highest pitch of perfection of 
 which he was capable, and he was never 
 tired of touching and retouching them ; he 
 did not retouch the face, either because he 
 was satisfied with it, or because he distrusted 
 his ability to effect improvement, but he 
 would ^^ his eyes upon it for long intervals 
 with the intensity of an intending buyer. 
 Then he would look up with a sigh, and 
 busy himself with the embroidery of Queen 
 Philippa's robe, or with the colour of the 
 cushion upon which she knelt. He would 
 even do this when his model was in the 
 room, forgetful of her presence, and of the 
 money per hour it cost him ; and upon one
 
 The Academy Circular, 139 
 
 or two occasions he noticed that she also 
 had her fits of abstraction. Then it struck 
 him that her face had grown paler of late, 
 and her large eyes less lustrous, and his 
 tender heart reproached him for his in- 
 difference. 
 
 " We have been working very hard at this 
 picture, have we not, Red Riding-hood?" 
 said he kindly. " Don't you think you 
 would be the better for a little holiday?" 
 
 *' Not so far as I am concerned, sir. I am 
 not at all tired." 
 
 " You look so," returned he, regarding 
 her in really quite a paternal way ; " very 
 fagged and out of sorts. Are you quite 
 sure you are well?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I am well enough." 
 
 " But you may not be a good judge of 
 that. I shall go round this afternoon, and 
 speak to your father about you, little 
 one." 
 
 "Oh pray, sir, don't speak to him!" re- 
 turned she with sudden vehemence. '' In- 
 deed, indeed, there is nothing the matter 
 with me — nothing, at least, to speak of. 
 There is no need for any holiday. Besides, 
 father has bills to pay, which were not
 
 140 Walters Word, 
 
 settled at Christmas, and it would vex him 
 if I fell out of work just now." 
 
 " Oh, I daresay we can manage about the 
 bills. You have been one, two, three, four 
 months eternally kneeling npon that cushion; 
 and so far as this picture is concerned, I can 
 get on very well by myself now. Yes, yes ; 
 you must have a holiday." 
 
 "As you please, sir," answered Nelly 
 humbly ; " that is, so far as the sittings are 
 concerned. Indeed, I have felt that I have 
 been picking your pocket for the last six 
 weeks." 
 
 " Picking my pocket, Eed Eiding-hood ! 
 Why, how was that ?" 
 
 " Well, sir, I have seen that I was of 
 little or no use. You don't know how 
 absent and thoughtful you have become ; I 
 might just as well have been at home as 
 in your studio, for all the good I have been 
 to you for this last hour, for instance. And 
 then the picture isn't like me, not a bit. 
 It was at first, perhaps, just a little ; but 
 you have been thinking of somebody else 
 all along, and been painting her instead of 
 me." 
 
 The colour rose to the very roots of
 
 The Academy Circular. 141 
 
 Walter's hair, but he answered laughingly : 
 " And has that offended you, Eed Riding- 
 hood, all along ?" 
 
 "Xo, sir; indeed, I didn't notice it at 
 first. But it seems wrong that I should 
 come here and take your money, w4ien you 
 could get on just as well without me." 
 
 "And that's what makes you look so 
 pale and sorrowful, is it ? You must cer- 
 tainly have a very tender conscience. How- 
 ever, let me tell you for your comfort, Eed 
 Eiding-hood, that I can not get on without 
 you. I have got used to you as a sitter, 
 and when folks have come to the asre of 
 your grandmamma they are averse to 
 change. Perhaps you have sat long enough 
 for Philippa; but you have plenty of ex- 
 pressions beside that pleading one, which 
 you have worn so long, that I do believe 
 it has made you downright miserable. Mr. 
 Pelter has recommended me to take the 
 game of Forfeits for a subject, which will 
 require you to be full of fun ; and after a 
 month or two of that I shall expect you to 
 be in tearing spirits." 
 
 When Walter and his friend were smokinsr 
 their pipes that evening, the former spoke of
 
 142 Walter's Word. 
 
 his model's altered looks, and of the talk he 
 had had with her. " I could make nothing 
 of it, except that she must really have taken 
 it to heart that the picture is not a portrait. 
 I wish you would take her for a hit, Jack, 
 and put her in good spirits." 
 
 " I am doing a veteran in boots and a 
 beard," said Pelter dryly ; " and I should 
 recommend you to paint a veteran for your 
 next picture — Miss Nellie's great aunt, for 
 instance." 
 
 " Nonsense ! I am really serious in 
 asking your opinion, for I am sure the girl 
 is out of sorts about something ; not ill, I 
 think, but wretched in her mind. What 
 the deuce can be the matter with 
 her?" 
 
 " I am afraid Eed Eiding-hood's grand- 
 mamma is turning out to be a wolf, in spite 
 of herself, Walter." 
 
 " I don't understand you, Pelter." 
 
 " Don't you ? It's a very old story, my 
 good fellow. I don't for a moment imagine 
 you want to devour her, mind, though 
 she would be a dainty morsel for some 
 people. But I have a suspicion she wants 
 to be eaten."
 
 The Academy Circular. 143 
 
 " You don't mean to say that the girl has 
 fallen in love with me ?" 
 
 " I am not sure ; but there is no account- 
 ing for tastes, and she may have done so. 
 I am glad for her sake, at all events, that 
 you are a gentleman — and not a man of 
 honour." 
 
 " I hope not, indeed, in the sense you 
 mean," answered Walter, reddening. " But 
 it seems to me your view is a very cox- 
 combical one." 
 
 " It would be if I had suo^crested she had 
 fallen in love with ;;?^," returned Jack. 
 " But that she has fallen in love with some- 
 body is certain : downcast eyes, pale cheeks, 
 and sighs, are all ' signs,' as old Burton calls 
 them in his Anatomy. You will find them 
 there under the head of ' Love a Cause.' 
 Perhaps she is enamoured of your Apollo, 
 which is as large as life, and very like : such 
 things have happened in the case of statues, 
 so why not with paintings ? If this be so, 
 and since nobody will buy it, you had better 
 give it to her." 
 
 " I think what you suggest is quite as 
 likely as that she should have fallen in love 
 with mCy' said Walter gravely ; " but she is
 
 144 Walter's Word. 
 
 certainly very unhappy. After what you 
 have said, T would send her away to-raorrow, 
 but that she says her father is so liard up." 
 
 " You are too emotional," said Mr. Pelter; 
 " or, in other words, a soft-hearted young 
 fool. Also, I wish you would drink a little 
 fairer. Please to ring for another jug of 
 beer." 
 
 As a matter of fact, however, not only 
 had Mr. John Pelter had his full share of 
 the beer, but he had no reason to plume 
 himself upon hardness of heart. His 
 general views of his fellow-creatures, like 
 those of most Bohemians, were cynical, but 
 in each particular case he showed himself 
 no philosopher. Indeed, he could not bear 
 with equanimity the misfortunes of total 
 strangers to him, much less of his friends. 
 He was opposed to beggars upon principle, 
 but often and often would he take some 
 poor pinched creature into his studio, under 
 pretence of his own artistic needs, and then 
 dismiss him warmed and filled. To his 
 personal friends he was devoted,' and when 
 Litton's picture was in due time sent into 
 the big shop on approval. Jack was far more 
 anxious about its fate than Walter himself.
 
 The Academy Circular. 145 
 
 Indeed, Walter exhibited an indifference in 
 the matter which, considering what the 
 other knew of his character and antecedents, 
 was inexplicable to his friend. He showed 
 despondency, sitting almost idle for whole 
 days alone — for he had, for the present, 
 dispensed with the services of Nellie Neale 
 — but not those symptoms of solicitude for 
 the success of his great work with which 
 Jack was so well acquainted in other cases. 
 The cause of this was curious, yet by no 
 means unknown in the profession to which 
 he belonged. He missed his picture. This 
 is peculiarly an artist's grievance. The 
 novelist can both have his cake and eat it ; 
 his book — the writing of which has given 
 him so many hours of pleasure, and with 
 the characters whereof, even though he may 
 have failed in making them real to others, 
 he has been living for months in as close a 
 relationship as with those of his household — 
 remains to him after it is written. But 
 when the painter has sold his picture, it is 
 gone for ever. The majority of his class 
 may be glad enough to get rid of it, if the 
 price is satisfactory : Pelter was so, and 
 Litton himself had been so hitherto. But 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 Vr alter' s Word. 
 
 now and then a picture becomes to its 
 creator like a child to its father. The 
 wrench of parting with it, however miti- 
 gated by recompense, is as severe as that 
 which Eomance attributes to the Arab when 
 parting with his horse. He has seen it 
 grow under his hand in unexpected strength 
 and beauty out of nothing: it has been 
 his companion for many solitary hours, 
 whispering to him hopes of fortune and of 
 fame, which, however realized, must needs 
 fall short of its suggestions ; till, though so 
 ineffably ideal, it has become something 
 lifelike. It is sometimes pregnant with 
 Association : reminding him who drew it 
 of some much-loved scene that can never be 
 beheld again, as on that bygone day in 
 which he saw it first ; or, perchance, of 
 some dear one whom death has taken. The 
 heart has more tentacles than the eight- 
 armed demon of the sea, wherewith, like it, 
 it lays hold of things animate or inanimate 
 with dogged clutch ; ''it clings, it clings;" 
 and neither Siren's voice nor Eeason's can 
 make it loose its hold. Walter missed his 
 picture, though the face it mirrored haunted 
 him like a ghost ; and would have been well
 
 The Academy Circular. 147 
 
 content to hear it was in that academical 
 Vault — the hourn from which all .pictures 
 do return to their disconsolate owners — so 
 that he might go at once and claim it. It 
 would be found there doubtless, as other 
 works of his had been, but meanwhile he 
 grudged its absence. He had another 
 picture on his easel, but his heart was not 
 in that as it had been in its predecessor; he 
 was equally painstaking, equally conscien- 
 tious with it, and yet he did not need Jack's 
 ominous silence — his omission to point out 
 its defects — to convince him that it was a 
 failure. At times, so errant was his mind, 
 that he saw both pictures — their lines and 
 hues mingled together, like a dissolving 
 view. Under such circumstances to paint 
 was useless, and he gave himself up to his 
 own morbid thoughts. 
 
 Where was Lotty now? He had seen 
 nothing of Selwyn for months, nor heard of 
 him, and so far, as he bitterly reflected, that 
 was a good sign. In prosperity, the captain 
 was more likely to forget his friends than if 
 he had need of them. On the other hand, since 
 he owed him money, he might be ashamed 
 to come; they might be very, very poor. 
 
 10—2
 
 148 Walter's Word. 
 
 He had seen in the paper that Selwyn had 
 sold out of the army, and now he must 
 needs be living on his capital, if his creditors 
 had left him any to live upon. And when 
 that was spent, what could they do then? 
 To what wretchedness might not that 
 innocent, angelic creature be reduced by this 
 time — and thanks to /ilm / It had not been 
 WMers fault, of course, but he reproached 
 himself for not having combated the 
 captain's arguments in the railway carriage 
 in favour of their elopement, nay, with 
 having been in the railway carriage at all, 
 since, but for his presence, Lotty would not 
 have taken that first fatal step of leaving 
 home. At another time he would be full of 
 pity for them both. What right had he to 
 judge the motives of his friend, since he 
 knew for certain only the strength of his 
 temptation, which he acknowledged to him- 
 self- — his own present feelings, indeed, were 
 an evidence of the fact — was overwhelming. 
 It was harsh in the captain not to have let 
 him visit them in their trouble, since he 
 ought to have known that their poverty 
 would have only exacted sympathy and 
 respect, and to what catastrophes might not
 
 The Academy Circular. 149 
 
 this false pride impel him ! Surely, surely, 
 he would never permit Lotty to want, 
 through disinclination to apply a second 
 time to his own scanty * purse ! At this 
 idea — the picture of that fair young face, 
 white and wan with physical woe — he would 
 start up from his chair, and pace the room 
 like a madman. The very postman's knock, 
 though letters seldom came for the lonely 
 young fellow, would suggest all sorts of 
 hideous apprehensions ; there might be news 
 that Eeginald was in prison — he had him- 
 self said it was more than probable — and 
 Lotty alone and starving. One day, when 
 there had been a letter for the first floor, he 
 heard Pelter's loud voice upon the carpetless 
 stairs, exclaiming : " Oh, this is for Mr. 
 Litton," and then his friend's heavy tread 
 coming upstairs three steps at a time. 
 Jack knew something, though by no means 
 all, of his solicitude upon the young couple's 
 account, and sympathized with it. He 
 stood now at the open door, with a very 
 grave face, and in a solemn tone exclaimed: 
 " Walter, here is a letter for you. I have 
 opened it by mistake." 
 
 " A letter," said Walter : his hand shook
 
 150 Walters Word. 
 
 as lie held it out for the missive. " No bad 
 news, I hope, of — of Selwyn ?" 
 
 " No ; it's only a circular — a circular from 
 the Academy, my* lad," cried Jack with a 
 joyous whoop. "It's to tell you that Wed- 
 nesday is Varnishing Day, and therefore 
 that your ' Supplication' has been accepted." 
 
 Then his two great hands seized Walter's, 
 and wrung them in expressive silence. 
 
 " I am not a good one at congratulatory 
 speeches, Watty, old fellow, but I am down- 
 right glad." 
 
 blessed time of Youth and Friendship, 
 O happy hand-clasps, only second to the 
 first kiss of Love ; what glories must be 
 beyond the gates of the grave that shall 
 recompense us for your loss !
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 A FIRST BIB. 
 
 F the painter, as we have shown, is 
 in one respect at a disadvantage, as 
 compared with the author, in 
 another he is much more fortunate. " The 
 Exhibition," as the annual show at the 
 Koyal Academy, notwithstanding its many 
 rivals of the same name, is still called, is an 
 institution that in literature has no parallel, 
 and which is of the greatest possible benefit 
 to the young artist. Of course true merit 
 will make its way in the end in any calling ; 
 but a man may write the best book in the 
 world, and even publish it (though that is 
 not so easy to one unknown and poor), and 
 yet be some considerable time before he can 
 persuade the world to read it ; but when a 
 painting has once got admittance within
 
 152 Walter's Word. 
 
 the Academy walls, all has been done for it 
 in the way of introduction to the public that 
 it can possibly need. The art critics may 
 praise it, or let it alone ; it may be hung 
 well or ill, and a great grievance is made 
 (by those who have not much confidence in 
 their own work) in the latter case ; we have 
 even known a young gentleman, on Var- 
 nishing Day, so dissatisfied with the position 
 of his picture, that he cut it out of its frame; 
 but still, so long as it is not hung with its 
 face to the wall, all that have eyes can see it. 
 He that has painted it, if it be worthy, has 
 got his foot set on the first round of the 
 ladder of Fame. There is nothing, I repeat, 
 to be compared with this, in the way of 
 opportunity, in the sister art of literature. I 
 may have my essay, my story, my poem in 
 the leading m.agazine, for instance, but 
 people do not take up the leading magazine 
 in such numbers as crowd the great rooms 
 in Piccadilly, nor does the " taking it up" 
 always involve the reading of it. Whereas 
 folks come to the picture gallery to see the 
 pictures, and especially, in many cases, to 
 have the credit of discovering some embryo 
 genius, who has no influence with the
 
 A First Bid. 153 
 
 papers, and of whom they may say, at the 
 spring dinner-parties : " By-the-bye, did you 
 happen to see that exquisite little thing 
 called ' Supplication' in the right-hand 
 corner of Eoom 5 ?" And if you didn't, you 
 will not escape hearing about it. 
 
 So young Walter Litton had really cause 
 to congratulate himself in that the gallery 
 gods had relaxed their brows, and resolved 
 to hang, instead of banishing him, as before. 
 Had such a stroke of good fortune happened 
 to him in the previous year, it would have 
 rejoiced him exceedingly : he would have 
 felt it to be the very accolade of his knight- 
 hood, a most refreshing spray from the 
 fountain of all honour. Bui now matters 
 were very different ^Wth him ; Fame had 
 ceased to be his deity ; and the news that his 
 friend had brought him was hailed rather 
 because it was not that other news which he 
 had feared to hear, than upon its own 
 account — as a relief rather than a triumph. 
 Still he was glad that his friend was glad, and 
 that the event had justified his praise of his 
 handiwork. It was a pleasure to him, if not 
 the great joy he had expected, to make one 
 of that fortunate band on Yarnishing Day,
 
 154 Walter's Word. 
 
 and to feel his foot on the ladder — not of 
 Fame, but of the steps that it was necessary 
 for him to use, to give the last touches to 
 " Supplication," nee " Philippa." It was 
 hung a long way up, but yet he was not 
 dissatisfied. He did not fear its being over- 
 looked — or, rather, underlooked : not from 
 vanity, though he had a good opinion of its 
 merits, but simply because it so riveted his 
 own eyes that he could not understand its 
 escaping those of others. He was almost 
 glad that his friend had sent nothing to 
 " the Big Shop" that year, so that he could 
 contemplate it quite alone. He had acquain- 
 tances, of course, equally fortunate with 
 himself, who passed their friendly comments 
 upon it ; but they gave him little pleasure. 
 He cared for no approbation, no notice of it, 
 save from one person, who in all probability 
 would never see it. It was to the last degree 
 improbable that Mrs. Selwyn should visit 
 the Eoyal Academy; Eeginald, he knew, 
 cared nothing for art, and besides had no 
 shillings to throw away on such an ex- 
 pedition. Upon the whole, he hardly 
 knew whether he was better satisfied that 
 the picture had been accepted, than he
 
 A First Bid. 155 
 
 would have been to have had it back again 
 in his own chamber, to contemplate it at 
 his leisure. For he did not, as many young 
 painters do, haunt the spot where it hung ; 
 not from any fear of adverse criticism or 
 neglect, but because remarks upon it of any 
 sort would, he felt, have been painful to 
 him. The subject was sacred to him, in a 
 sense that does not often affect young 
 gentlemen painters — nor old ones, for that 
 matter — who " go in" for sacred subjects. 
 
 Whether " Supplication" was really a 
 good picture or not, this present writer, 
 who is, he confesses, one of those ignorant 
 Philistines who only knows what he likes, 
 must be excused from positively asserting. 
 *' If you want to know whether a diamond 
 is a good one," said an eminent E.A. in my 
 hearing, " you go to a jeweller for his 
 opinion ; and if you want to know whether 
 a painting is good or bad, you must go to a 
 painter for the information: to buy one 
 upon your own responsibility, is an act of 
 madness ; to pass your opinion upon it, is 
 an impertinence." I am therefore silent 
 (except that I venture to express a wish 
 that Literature stood upon equally lofty
 
 150 Walter's Word. 
 
 ground with Art) "upon the merits of 
 *' Supplication." The newspapers were 
 silent also, greatly to Mr. John Pelter's 
 disgust, with the exception of a few lines 
 of praise that he himself got inserted in the 
 Arf Critic, and the inspiration of wdiich 
 Walter immediately detected, though he 
 did not say so, for his friend's sake. It 
 annoyed honest Jack immensely that there 
 seemed so little chance of seeing that red 
 star in the corner of Litton's picture which 
 has lit up the despondent gloom of so 
 many a young painter, and made his dark- 
 ness dawn. After the first month, most 
 pictures that are fated to sell are sold ; and 
 more than a month had passed since early 
 May. Some weeks after this date, notwith- 
 standing, there came a letter to Walter one 
 evening — when the two friends were 
 together as usual — from the Academy 
 official, to ask what price he had put upon 
 his picture ; and this, after a moment's 
 hesitation, he placed in Pelter's hand. 
 
 " Well, better late than never, my lad," 
 cried the latter joyfully. " This is as it 
 should be. I had begun to think that all 
 the world was blind."
 
 A First Bid. 157 
 
 " They have not seen with your kind eyes, 
 Jack," said the other gravely ; " that is all." 
 
 " Well, they see now, and that's some- 
 thing," answered Pelter impatiently. 
 " But why does this bungling fellow write 
 to i/ou, instead of telling the man or the 
 woman — for I'll take two to one it's a 
 woman? There's true religion in that pic- 
 ture, Walter, I don't mind telling you, now 
 that you have found a purchaser. It's 
 some woman with good eyes in her head, 
 and a good heart, and I hope a good 
 balance at her banker's, who wants it. 
 Well, I say, why didn't the fellow tell her 
 your price at once ?" 
 
 " Because he didn't know it," said 
 Walter quietly. 
 
 " Not know it ! Why, didn't you fix it 
 at a hundred pounds yourself?" 
 
 '' No, Jack ; that was your price, not 
 mine. I didn't mention any price ; indeed, 
 as I told you long ago, I don't think I care 
 to sell it." 
 
 " Not sell it ! Then why the deuce did 
 you paint it ?" 
 
 To paint a picture without the intention 
 of getting rid of it, and as soon as you
 
 158 Walters Word. 
 
 could, was in Jack's eyes tlie act of a 
 lunatic. 
 
 " I painted it for my pleasure." 
 " Oh, did you, begad ? Then you are 
 nothing better than an amateur." The 
 epithet had the same force with Mr. Pelter 
 as though he had called a beneficed clergy- 
 man of the Church of England a ranter. 
 " Of course you can do as you please, if 
 you are rich enough. You can paint a 
 dozen pictures, and hang them up in your 
 room, so that wherever you turn you can 
 see yourself, as it were, in your own 
 looking-glass. One may be as vain as one 
 pleases, or anything else one pleases, if one 
 is rich. And yet I thought I heard you 
 the other day complaining about shortness 
 of cash ; to be sure it did not affect your- 
 self, but only stood in the way of what was, 
 after all, perhaps a Quixotic scheme of 
 benevolence in connexion with an old 
 
 cobbler " 
 
 " I am not rich, my dear fellow," inter- 
 rupted Walter gravely ; " but when a man 
 spends everything upon himself, as I once 
 heard you observe, he can make a little 
 money go a good way."
 
 A First Bid. 159 
 
 " I didn't say it of i/ou,'' growled Pelter, 
 touched with the other's resolute good- 
 humour. 
 
 " No ; I am sure you didn't, though, for 
 that matter, I am just as selfish as other 
 people. You are quite right in suggesting 
 that I cannot afford to keep my pictures 
 in general for my own delectation, nor 
 even perhaps this particular one; and 
 yet I do propose for once to indulge 
 myself in the luxury. If you ask me 
 why " 
 
 " Not I !" struck in Jack savagel}^ " I 
 am not a woman, that I should wish to pry 
 into any man's secrets." 
 
 " There is no secret," said Walter 
 hastily; "it is perhaps, after all, but a 
 foohsh sentiment." 
 
 " Of course it is. I know that much 
 without your telling me," answered the 
 other contemptuously. " But you will find 
 such sentiments costly even for a rich man. 
 What will they think of you at the Big 
 Shop, when it is understood you do not 
 wish to sell your pictures ? They will say 
 that it is occupying a space that might be 
 better used ; that you are taking the bread
 
 160 Walter's Word. 
 
 out of some poor man's mouth ; and they 
 will — for once — be right." 
 
 " I wish I had never sent the picture 
 there at all," sighed Walter. "I don't 
 mean that your advice, Jack, wasn't wise as 
 well as kind," added he quickly, laying his 
 hand on the other's arm; "but 1 never 
 thought this would have happened — that 
 anybody would have wanted to buy it." 
 
 " \Yell, I never like talking about what I 
 don't understand, so we'll say no more 
 about it." 
 
 By the last post that night there came 
 another letter for Walter. 
 
 " There's a second appeal to your hard 
 heart," said Jack, who had by no means 
 recovered his usual equanimity ; he was 
 exceedingly annoyed by Litton's determina- 
 tion not to sell his picture, which he 
 ascribed to morbid vanity. "If it's from 
 the Trustees of the National Grallery, I do 
 hope you w^ill reconsider your objections." 
 
 " It is not from the Academy," said 
 Walter, scrutinizing the envelope atten- 
 tively. " It seems to me a lady's hand." 
 
 " Then I'll be off," replied Pelter, not sorry 
 for once to leave the society of his friend.
 
 A First Bid. 161 
 
 *' I hope it is not from Nellie Xeale, to 
 announce to grandmamma her intention of 
 committing suicide for love of her vene- 
 rable relative. I saw her yesterday, as I 
 passed her father's stall, and she looked ill 
 enough and wretched enough for anything. 
 What with his Eed Eiding-hoods and his 
 pictures that are not to sell," growled Jack, 
 as he descended to his own den, '' I believe 
 the lad is half cracked." 
 
 At any other moment this reference to 
 Nellie Neale's altered looks would have 
 aroused Walter's keenest sympathy, but as 
 it was the words fell almost unheeded upon 
 his ear. The idea had suddenly seized him 
 that the note w^iich he held in his hand was 
 from Lotty herself, wrung from her perhaps 
 by some extremity of poverty or sorrow. It 
 was to the last degree unlikely that she 
 should write to him, but it was possible ; and 
 if she had done so, her need must be great 
 indeed. He had witnessed her signature on 
 the 'occasion of her marriage, and her hand- 
 writing was something like that in which 
 the address of the note was written. Still, 
 all women write alike. Moreover, there 
 was a sort of typical initial upon the en- 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 162 Walter's Word, 
 
 velope — a Bee — which could scarcely have 
 been adopted bj her husband : if he had 
 chosen anything characteristic for such a 
 purpose — which was in itself highly im- 
 probable — it ought rather to have been a 
 Butterfly, that is, if that insect's name had 
 begun with an S. Upon the whole this 
 surmise of Walter's almost bore out Mr. 
 Belter's indignant conjecture that his friend 
 was not quite in his right mind, for, absurd 
 as it was, it agitated him excessively. He 
 tore the Bee all to pieces in his trepidation, 
 and not until his eye had run to the signa- 
 ture, which was totally unknown to him, did 
 he recover his usual calmness. The com- 
 munication had reference to his picture, 
 after all : — 
 
 T^Dear Sir, — I wish to know what price 
 ^ou have put upon your picture entitled 
 'Supplication,' 2940 in the Academy cata- 
 logue ? I made inquiries of the clerk in 
 charge, who will doubtless have communi- 
 cated with you ; but in order that no mis- 
 take may occur in the matter, I have 
 ventured to thus address you personally. I
 
 A First Bid. 163 
 
 am very anxious to become the purchaser of 
 the work in question. 
 
 " Yours obediently, 
 
 " Egbert Burroughes." 
 
 The hair was the hair of Esau, but the 
 words were unmistakably Jacob's : the 
 name, that is, was a man's name, but the 
 handwriting, and especially the style, were 
 beyond doubt those of a lady. Even 
 Walter, who was by no means well versed 
 in business matters, was struck with the im- 
 prudence of the words, " I am very anxious 
 to become the purchaser," addressed as 
 they were to one who had placed no 
 figure upon his goods. It would have 
 been a very strong temptation to most 
 people to ask a fancy price. Moreover, it 
 was probable that a fancy price might really 
 be paid — or, at aU events, that Eobert 
 Burroughes was in a position to pay it, 
 since his address was Willowbank, Eeorent's 
 Park, one of those large houses standing in 
 extensive grounds of their own, on the 
 banks of the ornamental water, and which 
 have been the envy of so many Londoners, 
 
 11—2
 
 164 Walters Word. 
 
 as combining in them the advantages both 
 of town and country. Burroughes, it is true, 
 was a very common name, but very common 
 people are often uncommonly rich. If, 
 instead of asking a hundred pounds, he were 
 to ask double the money, it was quite possible 
 he would get it. And two hundred pounds, 
 as Walter confessed to himself, would be 
 very useful to him. The fifty pounds he 
 had lent to Selwyn he never expected to see 
 again, nor even wished to do so — except so 
 far as its repayment would have been proof 
 of his friend's prosperity ; but the loan had 
 left the balance at his banker's ver}^ low, so 
 low that he had not re-engaged Eed Riding- 
 hood's services for several weeks, though he 
 really had had occasion for them, and, what 
 was more, felt she needed the money. As 
 to what Pelter had said about her falling in 
 love with him, the more he had thought of 
 it the more ridiculous the notion had 
 appeared to him. Nellie w^as an excellent 
 sitter, and used to his ways, and he was fully 
 determined to employ her again when he 
 should be once more in funds. Yes, two 
 hundred pounds would set him up for the 
 next six months very comfortably : he
 
 A First Bid. 165 
 
 might ask this Mr. Burrougbes for even 
 more perhaps. But Walter's conscience 
 was still young and tender : he did not even 
 reason, as he might fairly have done : " I 
 put a fancy price upon this picture myself, 
 and therefore it is only just that I should 
 charge another in the same proportion." 
 He thought that, since two hundred pounds 
 was double its fair market value, as assessed 
 by Pelter, who knew the price of things, and 
 was certainly not likely to under-\d\\Jie his 
 friend's production — he ought not to ask a 
 greater sum for it ; and yet he did not feel 
 inclined to give up the gratification of 
 possessing the picture for that sum. He 
 might, it is true, put such a price upon it 
 as was prohibitory, and which his corre- 
 spondent would understand as such; but that 
 course had too strong a iiavour of conceit — 
 of " bumptiousness," as Jack would call it — 
 to recommend itself to him. Finally, he 
 sat down and wrote a note, acknowledging 
 in courteous terms the compliment Mr. 
 Burroughes had paid him, and expressing 
 regret for the trouble to which that gentle- 
 man been put, but explaining that the 
 picture was not for sale.
 
 166 Walters Word. 
 
 Then, late as it was, he went out and 
 posted the letter ; not that he was afraid of 
 being argued out of his determination by his 
 friend, for he was tolerably certain that 
 Pelter had said his last word upon the 
 matter, but because he had doubts of his 
 own firmness, if he should suffer his mind 
 to dwell on so tempting an alternative. He 
 felt that it would be for his happiness to 
 keep the picture, yet also for his dis- 
 advantage. His reason told him that he 
 had no right to indulge in such extrava- 
 gance, his common-sense suggested : " If 
 you must retain this picture, why not take 
 a copy of it, and sell either that or the 
 original to Mr. Burroughes ;" and he feared 
 that their united force might overcome a 
 certain feeling within him, which not only 
 prompted him to keep the painting, but 
 revolted against either it or a copy of it 
 passing into the hands of any one else.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE UNKNOWN PATRON. 
 
 F the fashion and appearance of Mr. 
 Walter Litton's studio I have 
 already spoken, though not at 
 length : it was unnecessary to do so, since it 
 was very much like other painting apart- 
 ments of young gentlemen in his profession 
 who have not as yet found themselves famous. 
 It was dirty and dingy where the light fell 
 upon it, and dirtier and dingier where it did 
 not. The ''slavey'* in the Beech Street 
 lodging-house had not much time to spare for 
 cleansing operations, and still less inclination 
 for them ; she excused herself for all neglect 
 upon the ground that " them artists did not 
 like having their things meddled with;" 
 and she did not run counter to their wishes 
 in that respect. The bedrooms were not
 
 168 Walters Word. 
 
 much better looked after than the sitting- 
 rooms, with one exception ; that of Walter 
 Litton's '^was spick and span" as to order 
 and cleanliness, and withal so prettily fur- 
 nished, that it had obtained from Mr. John 
 Pelter the somewhat contemptuous title of 
 "the Bower/' But the slavey had little to 
 do with the Bower, which was " looked 
 after " by an occasional retainer of Litton's 
 own — an ancient charwoman, who came in 
 once a week to make " a thorough turn-out," 
 as she expressed it, of that apartment, and 
 to dust its somewhat elaborate furniture. 
 
 " Mark my words, Litton," Jack once 
 observed, while eyeing superciliously the 
 shining wardrobe, the dressing-table with 
 its snowy covering, and the various little 
 knick-knacks which adorned the chamber of 
 his f?'iend — " you will marry early." He 
 b.ad uttered it in a tone of mournful con- 
 viction, as though he had said : " You will 
 die young." He thought that all these 
 things were signs of a domestic turn of mind 
 in Walter, and presages of the matrimonial 
 yoke; whereas they were perhaps but the 
 result of a longer home experience (short as 
 it had been) than poor Jack had had, and of
 
 TJie Unknown Patron. 169 
 
 a university education. The contents of 
 Mr. Pelter's studio ran over, as it were, into 
 his sleeping apartment, in which were to be 
 found various early efforts of his genius, 
 which not even the picture dealers would 
 regard with any favour, huddled together, 
 like sheep in a storm, with their faces to the 
 wall. Now, "Walter's "Bower" did not 
 smack of " the shop " at all : its only 
 pictures were a small portrait of his mother, 
 and two engravings, one of his old college, 
 and one of the Head of that Eoyal and 
 Eeligious Foundation, an austere unlike- 
 able man, who had never looked kindly 
 upon the young fellow, nor, indeed, in his 
 own opinion, had had cause to do so, since 
 Litton had " only not disgraced himself" by 
 taking an ordinary degree ; but still, for the 
 sake of old times, there the hard old scholar 
 hung. As Walter lay in bed that morning, 
 thinking, his eye lit upon this portrait, and 
 straightway his thoughts wandered to that 
 time, not far back in point of years, and yet 
 so distant from his present, when the work 
 of life had not begun — to those college days, 
 which, to such as he, not striving for 
 collegiate prizes, are a three years' holiday,
 
 170 Walters Word. 
 
 a time of youth and friendship, such as can 
 never be a^ain. It had been an unreal time 
 perhaps ; a world quite different from the 
 great work-a-day one ; his judgment had 
 been less mature than it was now ; he felt, 
 for instance, that Jack Pelter had more 
 true grit in him — more bottom under the 
 rough rubble — than perhaps any of his then 
 companions; but some of them had been 
 very bright and dear to him, one of them 
 especially ; a man not dear to him now : he 
 felt that, in spite of himself, though he was 
 neither envious nor jealous of him. He 
 had never had much respect for Reginald 
 Selwyn, but respect had not been so necessary 
 a component of friendship as it had become 
 now ; he had loved him as an elder brother, 
 without the insight into his character that 
 such consanguinity compels. All that was 
 over now ; and why ? He did not answer 
 that question to himself, although he put 
 it; but his thoughts somehow wandered 
 back to the subject they had started from, 
 and which had even mingled with his 
 dreams— his picture in the Academy. There 
 was a bare space on the walls of his little 
 room, above the fireplace, and he now made
 
 Tlie Unknown Fair on. 171 
 
 up his mind that there it should be hung. 
 He would not sell it, even if the chance of 
 doing so should once more offer itself, which 
 was very unlikely. On the whole, he did 
 not regret that note he had posted overnight 
 to Mr. Burrouofhes of the Reo^ent's Park. 
 He heard his friend splashing in bis bath in 
 the room below, and afterwards whistling, 
 as his custom was, over his careless toilet. 
 Jack's good-humour had doubtless returned 
 to him long ere this, but still he would say 
 nothing to him about that tempting offer. 
 He would keep his own counsel, and let 
 him suppose the letter had been a hillef' 
 doux, a dun, a challenge — what he pleased, 
 in fact, so long as his guess was wide of the 
 mark. AVhen, however, he descended as 
 usual to breakfast with his friend, and found 
 him frank and hearty as ever, his conscience 
 smote him for his reticence ; he had, it is 
 true, already one secret of his own, into 
 which Jack bad not been permitted to look 
 — namely, his tenderness for Lotty — but 
 that was an affair as private, and almost as 
 sacred, as his prayers ; whereas this offer 
 for his picture he felt to be almost a common 
 property between them, for without Jack's
 
 172 Walters Word. 
 
 advice he would never have sent it to the 
 Academy at all : they had consulted to- 
 gether over it, both as to its price and its 
 merits, and not a few of the latter had, he 
 confessed to himself, been owing to the 
 other's suggestions. A certain sense of 
 ingratitude, and also the knowledge that 
 there was something about which they 
 could not converse, weighed upon Walter's 
 spirits, and he was not himself that morning. 
 It was quite a relief to him to escape from 
 Jack, and find himself in his own room 
 alone. And yet he was not at ease even 
 there ; the same almost feminine tenderness 
 of disposition that had caused him to retain 
 his picture for the sake of the associations 
 connected with it, gave him pain, because of 
 his treatment of his friend. He could not 
 set to work as usual. To some it may 
 seem easy for a painter to do this under 
 any circumstances ; an author, it may be 
 thought, whose mind is troubled, is likely 
 enough to be incapacitated from employing 
 his mind in composition ; but a painter can 
 have no such excuse. And this is probably 
 true enough of a painter who is also a glazier. 
 But the work of the artist — and Walter Lit-
 
 The Unknown Patron. 173 
 
 ton, though his talents were immature, and 
 often misdirected, was a true artist — is not 
 mechanical, although he labours with his 
 hands. If he had had a model before him, 
 Walter could perhaps have compelled his 
 attention to the canvas, but as it was it 
 was distracted bj other thoughts : he made 
 up his mind that he would call at the 
 cobbler's that very day, and engage Red 
 Biding-hood, if, indeed, she was well enough 
 to resume her sittings. He could not quite 
 recall what Pelter had said about her, 
 though he knew there was something 
 wrong. His whole mind was confused and 
 jaded, and incapable of effort. Perhaps it 
 was that glass of malt liquor, which, con- 
 trary to his habit, he had taken after break- 
 fast that morning, for the sake of good- 
 fellowship, and to make up to his beer- 
 drinking friend for other shortcomings. At 
 eleven o'clock the slavey brought him a 
 letter — not on a silver salver, genteel reader, 
 but in her damp red hand — and she grinned 
 as she delivered it : like the last, it was in 
 a lady's hand, but it was not on that account 
 that she grinned, for she did not know one 
 handwriting from another.
 
 174 Walter's Word. 
 
 " Why, I never heard the postman's 
 knock, Jenny," said Walter kindly. 
 
 " It tain't the postman," said she, stuffing 
 the end of her apron into her mouth to 
 stiffle a giggle ; " it be an ever-so-big foot- 
 man, with a white head with an illigant 
 split in it, and a bell-rope at his shoulder." 
 
 " That's called a shoulder-knot, Jenny. 
 Ah, very good" — he had rapidly cast his 
 eye over the contents of the letter — "tell 
 him to wait, and I will write an answer." 
 
 His tone was careless, but the note had 
 in fact surprised him very much. It came 
 from the same address as before, and was in 
 the same hand : — 
 
 " Dear Sir" — it began — " I am in receipt 
 of your letter, in which you state that your 
 picture is not for sale. At the risk of being 
 deemed impertinent, I write to you once 
 more to express a hope that you may be 
 induced to reconsider this decision. That 
 the work is very meritorious as a painting 
 I have no doubt ; but its artistic merits, if 
 I may say so without offence, are its least 
 attraction in my eyes ; I have quite another 
 reason for wishing to possess it. It is
 
 The Unknown Patron. 17 h 
 
 difficult, impossible, indeed, to explain this 
 by letter ; but if your resolve not to part 
 with it is capable of change, I would earnestly 
 entreat you to give me a few minutes' con- 
 versation upon this subject. I am confined 
 to ray house by a severe attack of gout, or 
 I would do myself the honour of calling on 
 you ; but as that is impossible, might I ask 
 the favour of your looking in on me, at any 
 hour you please to name — this day, if 
 possible ? The bearer will await your 
 reply. 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " Egbert Burroughes." 
 
 The gout from which this gentleman was 
 suffering was certainly not in his hand, for 
 the writing was firm and distinct, though 
 very feminine in its character. Walter felt 
 so curious about the whole affair, that he 
 had almost a mind to summon the ever-so- 
 big footman with the bell-rope, and question 
 him about his master ; but such a proceeding 
 would, to say the least of it, have been 
 undignified. Jack had often warned him 
 never to express surprise with respect to any 
 application for a picture, " however much
 
 176 Walter's Word. 
 
 and naturally you may be yourself astonished 
 at it." Of course, if he was obstinately 
 resolved not to part with this one, he bad 
 simply to pen a few words to that effect, 
 and there was an end to the matter. But 
 he did not wish to act so abruptly ; partly, 
 because it seemed rude to do so, but still 
 more because he had a strong desire to have 
 this mystery solved. It was not very 
 flattering to find that his chef-d'oeuvre was 
 not in demand on account of its own merits, 
 and yet that "quite another reason" so 
 excited his curiosity that he scarcely felt 
 the wound to his self-love. Nay, he even 
 felt some sympathy with Mr. Eobert 
 Burroughes, in that he felt his own affec- 
 tion for the picture did not rest upon the 
 ground either of its conception or execu- 
 tion ; but upon something else, albeit that 
 something could not be common between 
 them. At all events he resolved to see this 
 would-be patron, and to be civil to him, 
 though he by no means made up his mind 
 to let the picture go. There might be 
 something in it which had struck Mr. 
 Burroughes's fancy that was capable of 
 repetition, and this might procure him an
 
 The Unknown Patron. Ill 
 
 order for another work. Though he had 
 been so self-willed and obdurate in this 
 particular aifair, Walter was not blind to 
 his own interests in a general way, nor less 
 desirous of making his way in the world 
 than any other young fellow. So he wrote 
 a polite note to say that he would do him- 
 self the pleasure of calling at Willowbank 
 that afternoon, at three o'clock, and de- 
 spatched it by the white-headed foot- 
 man. 
 
 Then a sudden impulse moved him to 
 run downstairs and place both the letters of 
 Mr. Burroughes in the hands of faithful 
 Jack, and he obeyed it. 
 
 "My dear Watty," said the other, look- 
 ing not at them, but at him, with his kind 
 eyes, "are you sure you are right about 
 this ? You are not going to make me your 
 confidant, I hope, because you think I am 
 hufFy and vexed with you? That is all 
 over and gone, as far as I am con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " I daresay I seemed foolish and imprac- 
 ticable," answered Walter, " but I really 
 had my reasons." 
 
 " And very likely sufficient ones, my 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 Walie7''s Word. 
 
 lad. I don't say that your resolution to 
 keep your picture was no business of mine, 
 for what concerns you must needs concern 
 me, but I feel that I was dictatorial about 
 it." 
 
 " Not a bit. Jack. Please don't say 
 another word about it." 
 
 " But these letters — there are some 
 things, Watty, you know, that one should 
 not tell even to one's friends, for the sake 
 of others — are you sure I have a right to 
 see them ?" 
 
 " Certainly you have, since I give them 
 to you. It's the funniest thing that ever 
 happened, you will say." 
 
 " Are they from a woman, Watty ?" 
 inquired Jack, still hesitating. 
 
 " Not they, though the handwriting looks 
 like it. They're all about that picture, from 
 a Mr. Robert Burroughes." 
 
 Jack read them carefully, but without the 
 smile that Walter had expected to see illu- 
 mine his jolly face. 
 
 " There's something wrong here, my lad," 
 said he gravel3^ " These letters are not 
 from a man, in my opinion ; they're from a
 
 The Un Jen own Patron. 179 
 
 woman ; and she doesn't want your picture 
 at all." 
 
 *' What the deuce does she want, then ? 
 You don't mean to say that she wants fne / 
 — that she has fallen in love with your 
 humble servant, as you always said little 
 Eed Eiding-hood would do ! You will 
 make me a coxcomb." Walter was not a 
 coxcomb, but he did remember how Selwyn 
 had said : " My aunt has fallen in love with 
 you," on his first meeting with that lady, 
 and also the attention she subsequently 
 paid to him at Penaddon. 
 
 " No, Walter ; I don't seriously think 
 Miss Nellie has done that, although I fear 
 there is something amiss with her iu that 
 way ; and if she were, the misfortune would 
 be almost wholly on her side ; but if this — 
 this communication should be what I sus- 
 pect it is, the misfortune would be on your 
 side." 
 
 " You must have been reading the adven- 
 tures of Mr. Tom Jones, or Mr. Gil Bias, of 
 late. Jack." 
 
 " No ; but I have been reading human 
 nature — though not the best side of it, 
 
 12—2
 
 180 Walter's Word. 
 
 perhaps — for more years than you have. I 
 could tell you a story of real life that mates 
 with that of the Lady Clara Vere de Vere 
 of your favourite poet; only with a difference. 
 I could tell you, I say" — and here Jack 
 began to pace the room with rapid stiides — 
 " of a young fellow still in his teens, for 
 whom a fine lady once entertained a great 
 passion. Perhaps she would have married 
 him, if she could; perhaps she only per- 
 suaded him that such was her desire. She 
 wrote to him, sometimes by the post, some- 
 times by just such a wonderful footman as 
 I saw here in our passage this morning ; 
 she invited him to her house. She flattered, 
 fondled, spoilt him. He was a lad like 
 yourself, ingenuous, high-spirited, with a 
 future — a great future, as he thought, poor 
 devil — before him. She was older than he, 
 though she did not look it, and she had 
 more than twice his wits. It was an un- 
 equal match in more senses than one, and 
 the weaker one went to the wall. There 
 are some things, as I have just said, that it 
 is well for a man to be silent about, even to 
 his best friend, but I will tell you this much 
 — that woman ruined the lad. He did not
 
 The Unknown Patron. 181 
 
 cut his throat, you understand, like ' young 
 Lawrence' — it would have been better for 
 him, perhaps, if he had — but he lost all he 
 Lad, his heart, his hopes, his faith : she 
 killed him." 
 
 " He is dead, then r" said Walter gravely. 
 
 *' Yes, boy ; he died years and years ago, 
 God help him ! It is not a pleasant story," 
 continued Pelter, after a pause ; " but I 
 Lave told you it, because I don't want you 
 to perish in the same pitfalL Of course I 
 may be all wrong in supposing that there is 
 any risk. Most people will laugh at such a 
 danger, which seems to them iraaginar}', will 
 call it ridiculous, impossible, and the like; 
 and perhaps it would have been impossible 
 in their case; but most people are fools. 
 Such things, it is true, don't happen often, 
 but they do happen." 
 
 It would have been easy enough for a 
 much duller man than Walter Litton to 
 perceive that Pelter had been speaking of 
 himself: his bitter excited tone, his looks, 
 his very gait, as he walked hastily to and 
 iro, as if impatient of the folly he described, 
 betrayed it. 
 
 Eut for this, Walter himself would have
 
 182 Walters Word. 
 
 ridiculed the story, and did ridicule it even 
 now, so far as it had application to his own 
 position. That Mr. Eobert Burroughes 
 should turn out to be a middle-aged lady of 
 high rank, who had fallen in love with him 
 unknown to himself, tickled his sense of 
 humour ; if it was so, it seemed to him that 
 the Bee (and it was a very large one) im- 
 pressed upon her envelopes- was also in her 
 bonnet — that she must be mad. 
 
 " But you would not wish me to cancel 
 my appointment at Willowbank ?" inquired 
 he, and his eye twinkled with fun in spite 
 of himself, "for I have made one for three 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Of course not. But remember my story, 
 and forget, please, that it was I who told 
 it." 
 
 " I will," said Walter, made serious by 
 his friend's unwonted tone, which was at 
 once abrupt and pathetic. It was evident 
 that in this case good advice /i ad cost the 
 giver something. 
 
 " No," continued Belter in his old manner ; 
 '' I daresay your visit will turn out to be 
 commonplace enough. Mr. Burroughes is 
 doubtless only an eccentric old fellow, who
 
 The Unknown Patron. 1 83 
 
 takes fancies to pictures, and doesn't care 
 what he gives for them. Your refusal to 
 part with yours has probably whetted his 
 appetite, and may turn out to be the 
 happiest fluke for you." 
 
 " Thank you for the compliment. If he 
 had taken a fancy to one of yours, you 
 would not have set it down to his eccen- 
 tricity, I'll warrant, Mr. Pelter." 
 
 And so they parted, not to meet again till 
 just as Walter was starting on his mysterious 
 errand. 
 
 " You see I have got myself up, Jack, to 
 the best of my ability," said he, smiling, 
 " in case Mr. Burroughes should turn out 
 to be a countess." 
 
 " Quite right," returned the other dryly. 
 " I have been to the Academy, and the man 
 tells me that it teas a lady who asked the 
 price of 3"our picture ; moreover, I have 
 looked in the Blue-book, and no such person 
 as Burroughes lives at Willowbank, Begent 
 Park." 
 
 " Then perhaps, after all, it is a hoax," 
 said Walter, with an air of very considerable 
 disgust. 
 
 " No, no ; that footman could never have
 
 184 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 
 demeaned himself by mixing himself up with 
 anything of that sort. I should as soon 
 believe that the Lord Chancellor played leap- 
 frog on the woolsack. Good-bye, and luck 
 be with you."
 
 CHAPTEE XT. 
 
 BARGAINING. 
 
 T a little before three o'clock — for, 
 though an artist, he was punctual, 
 and even methodical in his habits 
 — Walter Litton presented himself at the 
 lodge-gate of Willowbank. A carriage-drive 
 that wound among a pretty shrubbery just 
 clothed in its first summer tints, so as to 
 suggest the notion of extent to what was 
 — for London — in reality a considerable 
 frontage, led to the entrance-door of the 
 mansion ; its principal windows, however, 
 looked upon a smooth, shelving lawn, which 
 sloped down to the water, and was, even at 
 that season, gay with parterres of flowers. 
 To left and right of it were more shubberies, 
 interspersed with some fine, if not stately 
 trees ; nor was there anything to suggest
 
 186 IValter's Word. 
 
 that the place was within miles of the Grreat 
 Metropolis, except that solemn, far-off roar, 
 which might well be taken for the murmur 
 of the summer sea; so like to it it was, 
 indeed, that for a moment Walter's 
 thoughts flashed to Penaddon Hall, where 
 that sound was never unheard; albeit no 
 two places could, in other respects, be more 
 dissimilar than the Hall and the spot in 
 which he now found himself. T/iere, the 
 poverty of the tenant had compelled neglect ; 
 whereas /tere, the most perfect neatness and 
 completeness that money could insure were 
 evident on all sides. The carriage sweep 
 might have been made of cayenne pepper, 
 so bright and delicate was the gravel of 
 which it was composed ; the grass that 
 fringed the laurel beds might have been cut 
 with a razor; and every shrub and flower 
 looked as though it had been the gardener's 
 peculiar care. So rare, too, seemed many 
 of them, that it would not have surprised 
 him if each had had a ticket appended to it, 
 as at Kew, explaining its name and habitat. 
 His ring at the front-door was answered by 
 a stately personage of ecclesiastical, nay, 
 Episcopal type, who appeared to regard his
 
 Bargaining. 187 
 
 having come on foot as quite phenomenal. 
 He looked to ric^ht and left of his visitor 
 through the glass door before he opened it, 
 in obvious search after the usual equipage. 
 
 "Is Mr. Burroughes within?" inquired 
 Walter, not a little amused by this expressive 
 pantomime. 
 
 " Mr. Burroughes ?" repeated the man in 
 a doubtful tone. 
 
 "Then it is a hoax," thought Walter. 
 " Yes, I received a letter this morning," 
 said he aloud. 
 
 " yes, sir ; it's quite right," interrupted 
 the other, as if recollecting himself. " Mr. 
 Litton, I believe ? My master is expecting 
 you." 
 
 He led the way through a hall of marble, 
 in which stood two colossal vases of great 
 beauty, and some statues of life-size, which 
 Walter's hurried glance perceived were of 
 no mean merit, into a sitting-room looking 
 on the lawn, and then withdrew. It was a 
 small apartment, but very richly furnished, 
 and to those with whom newness is not a 
 bar to admiration, in excellent taste. The 
 walls were lined with books, in bright but 
 not gaudy bindings; the floor was of
 
 188 Walters Word. 
 
 polished oak, and bare, except in the centre, 
 which was covered by a rich carpet, in 
 which the feet sank as in luxuriant moss; 
 the furniture was also of oak, but of the most 
 modern — that is, of the most comfortable 
 make. Next the window was a table rather 
 out of character with its surroundings, for 
 though of polished and well-kept appear- 
 ance, it was in fact a plain office desk of 
 deal, such as a merchant's clerk might work 
 at in the City. It was laden, however, with 
 accessories, whose splendour was greatly in 
 excess of their use ; in particular, upon a 
 golden tripod were a watch, a weather-glass, 
 and a thermometer, all made of the same 
 precious metal. The singularity of this 
 ornament attracted Walter's attention, and 
 upon the foot of it he read inscribed along 
 with the date of a few months back the words, 
 " To our dear Papa, upon his Birthday." 
 
 " Good heavens," murmured Walter to 
 himself, "perhaps there are two countesses!" 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and 
 there limped in a short, stout man, by no 
 means so important-looking as the butler, 
 but with an air of proprietorship, neverthe- 
 less, about which there could be no mis-
 
 Bargaining. 180 
 
 take. ** Mr. Litton, I believe ?" said he, 
 without offering to shake hands. " Be so 
 good as to take a seat ;" and he himself, not 
 without difficulty and much help from his 
 stick, contrived to get into an armchair. 
 His face was flabby rather than fat, with 
 very little colour, and showed signs more of 
 care than thought ; his tone was peevish, 
 and his manner somewhat uneasy, not such 
 as is usually worn by a man of great sub- 
 stance in his own house. 
 
 " You have come about that picture in 
 the Academy ?" 
 
 " I have ; or rather, you requested me to 
 come about it, Mr. Burroughes," answered 
 Walter with some dignity. 
 
 *' Wei], well ; it is all the same. I am 
 not Mr. Burroughes, however ; my name is 
 Brown — Christopher Brown." And the little 
 man drew himself up stiffly, as though the 
 name — in connexion with the Christopher — 
 ought to be an impressive one. 
 
 Walter did not remember to have heard 
 of the name, and he resented this behaviour 
 of its proprietor extremely. " I can only 
 deal with principals," said he, his indigna- 
 tion leaving him no choice of words, and
 
 190 Walters Word. 
 
 causing him to use a conventional phrase, 
 which had really hut little meaning, and of 
 which he repented immediately. The reply, 
 however, seemed to please his companion 
 well enough. 
 
 '' That's a very sensible observation, 
 young man, and shows you have some 
 knowledge of business. However, I a?}i the 
 principal in this case ; Mr. Burroughes is 
 the Co., and of no consequence. It is I 
 who wish to buy your picture. You don't 
 seem to be in a hurry to part with it — that 
 is very sensible too. We are never in a 
 hurry to part with anything in the City — if 
 we can help it. That is what we call 
 ' standing out.' " 
 
 Walter bowed stiffly ; he was not quite 
 sure what the stout gentleman meant, but 
 he had a strong suspicion that he was 
 drawing a parallel between Art and sordid 
 Trade. 
 
 "I do not quite comprehend your meaning, 
 Mr. Brown." 
 
 " I mean — this question resolves itself, I 
 suppose, like all other questions, into those 
 two pregnant words. How Much ?" 
 
 "Not quite," returned Walter coldly.
 
 Bargaining. 191 
 
 " If that had been the case, I should have 
 named mj price for the picture, and then 
 you might have taken it or left it, as you 
 chose." 
 
 "You must be in independent circum- 
 stances, young man," observed the other 
 sarcastically. '"' And yet Beech Street is not 
 a very highly rented locality, I believe." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; and yet, if you visited me 
 in Beech Street, I should behave to you 
 like a gentleman, sir," cried Walter seizing 
 his hat. 
 
 "Highly tighty! Don't fly into a 
 passion, Mr. AVhat's-your-name ; I didn't 
 mean to offend you. Sit ye down, sit ye 
 down, and let us discuss this matter in a 
 quiet, sensible manner." 
 
 " I had rather stand," said Walter ; 
 " thank you." 
 
 " Well, well ; as you like. I wish I could 
 stand as weU. Come, let us say fifty pounds. 
 You are a young man, a very young man. 
 By George ! I wish I was half as young. 
 You have got your way to make in the 
 world. When I was your age I didn't get 
 fifty pounds for a week's work, nor yet five. 
 My time was not so valuable."
 
 192 Walter's Word. 
 
 " Perhaps not, sir," answered Walter 
 hotly, " and I hope it is not very valuable 
 now, since you are wasting it. I wish you 
 a very good morning ;" and he moved to- 
 wards the door. 
 
 " Why, how much do you want ?" cried 
 the old gentleman, slewing round upon his 
 chair so as to face his companion. " I'll 
 give you a hundred pounds. You are cer- 
 tainly not famous enough to refuse a hun- 
 dred pounds." 
 
 "Famous or not," answered Walter in a 
 fury, "you shall not have it for that 
 money ;" and he laid his hand upon the 
 door. 
 
 " Stop, sir, stop !" cried the old gentleman. 
 " I have a wish to possess that picture — for 
 a reason that you cannot understand;" and 
 here his voice sank low. "It is not a 
 matter of money's worth to me." 
 
 " I thought everything resolved itself into 
 those two pregnant words. How Much?" 
 answ^ered Walter scornfully. 
 
 "I am an old man, sir, and you are a 
 young one," returned the other ; " perhaps 
 I presumed too much upon that ; in my 
 time it made a difference. Don't let us
 
 Bargaining, 193 
 
 quarrel. Your picture may be perfection, 
 for what I know, and you shall have your 
 price for it — that is in reason. My cheque- 
 book lies in that desk ; I will pay you upon 
 the nail — this instant. Come, shall I make 
 it two hundred pounds ?" 
 
 "No, sir. You say that you wish to 
 buy the picture for a reason that I could not 
 understand. Well, I wish to keep it for a 
 reason that would at least be equally unin- 
 telligible to you." 
 
 " I will give you three hundred golden 
 sovereigns for that little picture. It cannot 
 be worth more than three hundred pounds." 
 
 "It is not worth so much, sir," answered 
 Walter coldly, " and yet I will not sell it 
 
 you." 
 
 " You will not sell it to me !" cried the 
 old man angrily. " Then why did you come 
 here? To insult me, to disappoint me, 
 
 to " Here he stopped, then added 
 
 plaintively : " Young man, you are very 
 cruel." He had a haggard and weary look, 
 which moved the other in spite of his wrath. 
 
 "I ought not to have come here, sir, I 
 own," answered he slowly, " since I did not 
 mean to sell my picture. If you had be- 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 Walter's Word. 
 
 haved otherwise, or given me your reason 
 for desiring to possess it — no, forgive me" — 
 for across the old man's face here flitted a 
 look of intense pain — " that is an imper- 
 tinence ; I mean, if you had convinced me 
 that the possession of it would have been 
 dear to you, from whatever cause, as it is 
 to me, perhaps I would have parted with it. 
 This surprises you ; and yet one gives one's 
 horse or one's dog away, where they are 
 cared for and appreciated, and not otherwise. 
 However, as matters stand, I feel I owe you 
 an apology, an explanation. There is an 
 association — to me — in connexion with that 
 painting, which forbids me to part mth it 
 for its fair price ; and to take advantage of 
 your fancy for it, to extort more, seems to 
 me shameful." 
 
 "But if I don't mind it — if money is 
 nothing to me !" exclaimed the old man 
 eagerly. " I don't say it is nothing ; three 
 hundred pounds is three hundred pounds to 
 everybody." 
 
 " I know it, sir. To me, indeed, it is a 
 very large sum," remarked Walter quietly. 
 
 " Well, to be frank, young man, it is to 
 me but a mere drop in the ocean."
 
 Bargaining. 195 
 
 " Very likely. Still, to take it from you — 
 since a rich man's whim is his master — 
 would be to trade upon your necessity." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Wheel that desk here, and 
 let me write out the cheque." 
 
 " I would not take it, if it was for three 
 thousand. Good morning, sir." 
 
 Walter opened the door, but as he did so, 
 he felt it pushed toward him, and there 
 entered — Lotty ! 
 
 " Mr. Litton, I believe ?" said she, with a 
 pleasant smile. " Grood morning." 
 
 13—2
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LILY. 
 
 ALTEE could scarcely believe his 
 senses, when he beheld thus 
 standing before him the girl of 
 whom for the last six months the image had 
 been more or less present to his mental 
 vision, but whom, with his physical eyes, he 
 had never thought to see again. To meet 
 her at such a time and place was most un- 
 looked for and extraordinary ; but still more 
 surprising was it to see her so unchanged in 
 beauty, not bright and radiant, indeed — for 
 that, even on her marriage morning, she had 
 not been ; in the very flush of bridehood her 
 heart had not ceased to be agitated by 
 thoughts of home — but still in good health, 
 her eyes un dimmed with tears, her face un- 
 lined with cares, her voice as musical and
 
 Lily. 197 
 
 cheery as when he had first heard its well- 
 remembered tones. All this was like 
 enchantment ; but what beyond all as- 
 tounded him, and stilled his tongue, and 
 seemed to paralyse his very limbs, was the 
 fact that she had not recognised him ; that 
 she had said " Mr. Litton, I believe ?" and 
 then in the most unconcerned, though 
 courteous manner, had added " Good morn- 
 ing," as though he were no more than an 
 utter stranger. 
 
 He stood dumb and motionless for a few 
 seconds, staring at her, in her pretty garden 
 costume and summer hat, until the little 
 blush he knew so well crept from her cheek 
 to her white brow. 
 
 " He sees the likeness," muttered the old 
 man plaintively. 
 
 " To the picture," replied Lotty quickly. 
 '' Yes, it is very curious. I hope that you 
 have come to terms, papa, with this gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " With this gentleman !" repeated Walter 
 to himself, like one in a dream. It was 
 impossible that she did not recognise him ; 
 there must then be some reason for her 
 ignoring their acquaintance. Was
 
 198 Walters Word. 
 
 possible that that terrible Mrs. Sheldon had 
 breathed to her that shameful imputation of 
 his being at heart a rival in the affections of 
 her husband, and that hence she had 
 resolved to know him no more ! 
 
 She kept her eyes studiously averted from 
 him, and fixed upon her father. 
 
 " No/' sighed the old man ; " we have not 
 come to terms. Perhaps I have mismanaged 
 the affair. Mr. What's-his-name " 
 
 " Litton," suggested Lotty softly. 
 
 " Mr. Litton has refused to part with his 
 picture at any price. ' Not,' he said, ' for 
 three thousand pounds.' " 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," said Walter; "do not 
 let this young lady imagine me to be extor- 
 tionate — or mad. Such a sum was never 
 seriously mentioned. On the contrary, I 
 said that the three hundred which you 
 offered was far beyond its worth." 
 
 "Then why not take it, sir?" inquired 
 Lotty, looking at him face to face, and 
 speaking in gentle but firm tones. "I 
 wrote to you — at my father's request — to 
 intimate that it was not for the mere merits 
 of the picture — great as they undoubtedly 
 are — that he was desirous of possessing it."
 
 Lily. 199 
 
 " The note then was from you ?" said 
 Walter, hardly conscious of what he 
 said. 
 
 *' Yes ; I thought I said that ray father 
 was incapacitated from addressing you him- 
 self; at all events, it was so ; I was his 
 amanuensis. I said, if vou had not reso- 
 lutely made up your mind to keep the 
 picture, we hoped that you would call in 
 person. Since you have done so, it seems 
 unreasonable that you will not accept my 
 father's offers." 
 
 " That is right," said the old man ap- 
 provingly. " You put it better than I did. 
 Listen to her, Mr. Litton." 
 
 " My father has an especial wish to possess 
 the painting," continued Lotty decisively, 
 " and it seems to me that, under such cir- 
 cumstances, it is cruel to withhold it. I put 
 it to your sense of honour." 
 
 " That is quite unnecessary," answered 
 Walter frigidly. "Your daughter's argu- 
 ments have convinced me, sir," said he, 
 turning to the old man. " The picture is 
 yours." He had no longer any desire to 
 retain it, since she who, if not its original, 
 had been the inspirer of whatever in it had
 
 200 Walter's Word. 
 
 made it dear to him, conld treat him with 
 such neglect. 
 
 " You are a good fellow !" cried his host 
 triumphantly — " you are an excellent young 
 fellow ! Wheel up my desk, my dear, and 
 I will give him the three hundred. And 
 I tell you what, sir, I'll make it guineas." 
 
 " Excuse me, sir ; my price is one hundred 
 pounds," observed Walter coldly. " I shall 
 not take a penny more." 
 
 "Not a penny more V cried the old man, 
 holding his pen in the air. "Why, you 
 must be what you called yourself just now — 
 mad ; stark, staring mad." 
 
 "That is the just price — the price at 
 which it was assessed by a friend of mine, 
 who is a good judge of such things, when it 
 went to the Academy ; and I shall take no 
 more. Please to write out one hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 " I am afraid, papa," said Lotty softly, 
 " that we have offended this gentleman ; 
 and that therefore he will not be beholden 
 to us." 
 
 " I did not mean any offence, young man," 
 said Mr. Brown. " It seems to me that 
 folks are very sensitive nowadays; there is
 
 Lily. 201 
 
 no knowing where to have them. I wished 
 to make a fair bargain with you, Mr. Litton ; 
 that is my notion of doing business, and it 
 has served me for the last fifty years ; bat I 
 certainly had no intention of rufiiing your 
 feathers. Well, there is your hundred 
 pounds/' 
 
 " Oh, papa 1" said Lotty. 
 
 " My dear, I have only done as the young 
 gentleman has directed me ; I conclude he 
 knows his own mind." 
 
 " You are very right, sir," answered 
 Walter. " The picture shall be sent to you 
 directly the Exhibition is over." 
 
 " Very good. I wont offer to shake 
 hands with you, young man, because I 
 can't ; but I am truly obliged to you" (this 
 he pronounced '' obleeged," but in a friendly 
 and even grateful tone). " If the obligation 
 were on your side instead of mine, I should 
 venture to ask a favour of you." 
 
 *' Pray ask it, sir," said Walter, " all the 
 same." 
 
 " Well then stay and dine with us. We 
 are none of your fashionables, who require 
 white ties and that ; and there are only our 
 two selves." A sort of pathos mingled
 
 202 Walter's Word. 
 
 with his speech that touched the young 
 fellow. " We dine early — that is, what I 
 daresay ^ou will call early, though I call it 
 late ; the time I used to sup at. My 
 daughter here will show you about the 
 place in the meantime." 
 
 This invitation, which hut an hoar ago 
 would have been a temptation against 
 which he would have struggled in vain, had 
 now no charms for him. And yet he had 
 a mind to accept it, if it were only that it 
 would give him the opportunity of reproach- 
 ing Lotty for her repudiation of him — for 
 what he no longer hesitated to term her 
 ungrateful behaviour towards him. There 
 was some reason for it, of course ; but if it 
 was in consequence of anything that Mrs. 
 Sheldon had said to her, she ought not to 
 have listened to it ; and if it was for any 
 cause connected with her father, she surely 
 might have acknowledged his identity to 
 himself, without betraying the recognition 
 to his host. 
 
 " I shall be very glad to show Mr. Litton 
 the garden," said she in cold but courteous 
 tones : " it is not very extensive, but still, 
 for London "
 
 Lily. 203 
 
 " I will stay and dine with pleasure," 
 interrupted Walter with decision. This 
 woman's hypocrisy was beyond all bearing, 
 and he longed to tell her what he thought 
 about it ; that cool, " still, for London," of 
 hers, when she was in all probability at that 
 very moment contrasting the place in her own 
 mind with the wild luxuriance of the garden 
 at Penaddon, in which he had walked in her 
 company so often, and not six months ago, 
 was too much for his patience. 
 
 " Well, come, that's settled," said the old 
 man, not without some irritation, for it was 
 plain that his invitation had " hung" in the 
 young painter's mind, and Mr. Christopher 
 Brown, of Willowbank, was not accustomed 
 to give invitations that were accepted only 
 with reluctance. " There, take him out, 
 Lily, and show him the ducks." 
 
 Lily ! The quiet utterance of that simple 
 name staggered Walter like a thunderbolt, 
 for it was accompanied by a flash of intelli- 
 gence that altered all things to his mental 
 vision. This then was not Lotty, but 
 Lotty's sister; a twin- sister, without doubt 
 (though she had never mentioned that she 
 was a twin), since even to his eyes there
 
 204 Walter's Word, 
 
 had seemed absolutely no difference between 
 them. The same bright trustful face that 
 had haunted his dreams, as though an angel 
 had hovered over him ; the same delicate 
 features ; the same abundance of rich brown 
 hair; tlie same sweet, gentle voice, that he 
 had thought was without its peer in woman, 
 belonged to both — only tender gratitude 
 had been lacking, as was natural enough ; 
 it was not to be expected that Lotty's 
 sister should feel towards him like Lotty. 
 Still it was incomprehensible that even 
 Lily should not have recognised his name. 
 
 She led the way out of doors, and he 
 followed her, tongue-tied, stunned by this 
 inexplicable fact. Surely, surely she would 
 now tell him, now that they were alone, 
 that she knew him well by her sister's 
 report, though it had not been advisable to 
 say so before her father, on account of the 
 hand he had had in Lotty 's elopement. 
 
 "This view from the lawn, Mr. Litton, 
 we think is very pretty," were her first 
 words, spoken in pleasant conversational 
 tones, such as befitted a cicerone who was 
 also his hostess. "Some people object to 
 its looking out upon the Park with its
 
 Lily. 205 
 
 nurservmaids and children, but I am not so 
 exclusive." 
 
 " There can be nothing objectionable in 
 seeing people enjoy themselves, I should 
 think," said Walter ; his voice was cold and 
 rather " huffy," but she did not seem to 
 notice that. 
 
 "No, indeed," she replied; ''that is quite 
 my opinion : I like to see them, and I 
 flatter myself that we give as well as take, 
 for our garden looks very pretty from that 
 side of the water, though I can't say as 
 much for the house. If you wanted to 
 paint a picturesque residence, you would 
 not choose Willowbank for your model, 
 I am afraid. It is scarcely one's ideal of a 
 dwelling-place." 
 
 " It has some good points," said Walter. 
 **I should take them, and reject others; 
 that is how the 'ideal' is represented, I 
 fancy, by most artists." 
 
 "Is that how you painted 'Supplication?' " 
 said Lily, stopping suddenly; and looking 
 up at him. 
 
 They were now on the winding path that 
 fringed the water, and shut out from the 
 view of the house by trees and shrubs.
 
 206 . Walters Word. 
 
 " Yes/* said he, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion ; "I drew it, that is, partly from 
 memory, and partly from imagination." 
 
 " Then there really was an original, was 
 there?" 
 
 "I can scarcely say that; the person 
 that sat for it was not the person I had in 
 my mind. I think, to judge from what 
 your father said about it, when you entered 
 yonder room, that he at least recognised the 
 original." 
 
 " He hinted that it was like myself," said 
 Lily quietly, " though I think that was an 
 outrageous compliment." 
 
 "I do not say t/iat/' said Walter brusquely; 
 " but it is certainly not so like you as it is 
 like vour sister." 
 
 "Ah, it was taken from life, then!" ex- 
 claimed she, " I always thought that a 
 likeness such as that could not have been a 
 mere coincidence. It is not so much in 
 form or feature, as in expression, that it so 
 much reminds me of dear Lotty. You 
 have known her, then" — and here she 
 heaved an involuntary sigh — " since her 
 marriage ?" 
 
 " No, not since, but before it. She must
 
 Lily. , 207 
 
 surely have told you how I chanced to be in 
 the train with Selwyn when he went down 
 to Cornwall, and how it all happened ?" 
 
 *' She told me that he had a friend with 
 him, but did not mention his name." 
 
 " Why, it was I who gave her away !" 
 said Walter bitterly. 
 
 His disappointment and humiliation were 
 so excessive that they could not be con- 
 cealed. 
 
 " You must forgive her," said Lilian 
 gently, " in consideration of her position. 
 Love is a great monopolizer, and leaves 
 little room in us save for tlie beloved ob- 
 ject. Besides, she had a good reason for 
 not mentioning your name ; it would have 
 set us, she knew, against you. You would 
 not have been made welcome, for example, 
 in this house, had my father known that it 
 
 was you who helped to " Her voice 
 
 quivered, the tears began to fall. " 0, Mr. 
 Litton," sighed she, ''it was an evil day 
 that took dear Lotty from us !" 
 
 "I am grieved, indeed, to hear it," 
 answered Walter gravely. "It was no 
 fault of mine, I do assure you. I may 
 seem to you a culprit, but I am wholly
 
 208 Walter's Word. 
 
 innocent in the matter ; indeed, what little 
 I did do was to dissuade Selwyn. If she 
 told you all, she must have told you that." 
 
 " It is done now, Mr. Litton, and cannot 
 be undone," answered Lilian. " But it is 
 better that you should not speak of this to 
 my father. Your picture has touched his 
 heart, and made it more tender towards her 
 who was once his darling, and I am grateful 
 to you on that account ; but do not let him 
 know what you have just told me. He 
 might think perhaps that you had been 
 set on to do it by — by Eeginald." 
 
 They walked on together slowly, and in 
 silence ; then Lily spoke again : " You have 
 not seen her since her marriage, you say ; 
 how did you know then that she was so 
 changed ?" 
 
 This was a question that was not easy 
 for him to answer. He could not tell her 
 that Lotty's supposed misery was constantly 
 presenting itself to him ; that his imagina- 
 tion had been coloured with sadness because 
 of her, and had pictured her to him accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I have seen her husband," said he 
 evasively.
 
 Lily. 209 
 
 " And he told you, did he ?" answered 
 she with a pleased air. " No doubt he is 
 less indifferent than he seems — not that he 
 is unkind," added she hastily. " Do not 
 suppose that I wish to be hard upon your 
 friend; only it seemed to me that he did 
 not notice her changed looks." 
 
 "Is she much changed?" asked Walter 
 softly. 
 
 " Yes ; greatly changed from what you 
 must remember her before her marriao-e. 
 
 o 
 
 She has been — nay, she still is — in sad 
 trouble, banished from her home. Perhaps 
 I ought not to speak of such things," said 
 Lily plaintively, " but my tongue has kept 
 involuntary silence so long, and it is so 
 hard to brood and brood over a sorrow, and 
 have none to whom to tell it." 
 
 "It is very hard, as I know myself," 
 answered Walter gravely; "if it is any 
 comfort to you, pray speak to me as to one 
 who has your sister's happiness at heart. I 
 may say so much, I hope, without imperti- 
 nence ; since, though I was acquainted with 
 her for so short a time, and there has been 
 so great an interval since, it was under such 
 circumstances as make acquaintance friend- 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 Walters Word. 
 
 ship. It was I who telegraphed to you at the 
 drawing-school from the Reading Station." 
 "Then you cost me the severest pang, 
 Mr. Litton,, that my heart has known," said 
 LiHan, with a shudder. " The sudden shock 
 of it, the terror of the thought that I had 
 to tell papa of it, and the dreadful, dreadful 
 hour in which I did tell him !" And she hid 
 her face, as though to shut out the recollec- 
 tion of another's — Walter pictured to him- 
 self Mr. Christopher Brown's, the possessor 
 of an income that could perhaps be counted 
 by tens of thousands, when he first heard 
 that his daughter had run away with a 
 penniless soldier, and pitied her from the 
 bottom of his soul. " You see, Lotty was 
 his favourite," continued she, doubtless in 
 unconscious apology for some outbreak of 
 paternal wrath ; " and her leaving us stabbed 
 him to the heart. It seemed to him in- 
 gratitude as well as rebellion. Dear Lotty 
 herself understands that, as she told me 
 before I was forbidden to see her. Papa s 
 life was wrapped up in us two — in her 
 especially — and when he found she had left 
 
 him for a stranger indeed, he has 
 
 suffered too !'*
 
 Lily, 211 
 
 " I have no doubt of that. But is there 
 no chance of a reconciliation between 
 them ?" 
 
 " Two days ago, Mr. Litton, I should 
 have said — None whatever. He was very 
 resolute against her ; very angry that I had 
 been to see her; and forbade me ever to 
 write to her, or to mention her name 
 within his hearing. But yesterday morn- 
 ing, at the Academy, he saw your picture, 
 and I could see he recognised it, though 
 her face was not as he had known it. I 
 had told him how weary and worn she 
 looked, but had not moved him ; but when 
 he saw her on your canvas " 
 
 " Take time, take time," said Walter 
 kindly, for the girl was sobbing bitterly ; 
 " I would not pain you to recount all this, 
 but that it may be better for your sister's 
 sake that I should hear it ; that I should 
 know how to answer your father when he 
 comes to question me, as perhaps he will." 
 
 " No, no ; he will never speak of it to 
 you or anybody," answered she de- 
 spondingly : " but when he comes to 
 possess the picture, when he looks upon it 
 daily, as I shall take care he does, I shall 
 
 14— i
 
 212 Walter's Word. 
 
 have hopes. That he should have men- 
 tioned the likeness in your presence, was an 
 unlooked-for tenderness. He loves her 
 still, I know, but he is ashamed to own it. 
 It will be very, very long, I fear, if ever, 
 before he forgives her. Oh, sir, do tell me 
 truly" — she looked up at him with clasped 
 hands and streaming eyes— "is Captain 
 Selwyn a good man ?'* 
 
 " A good man ? Well, men are not 
 good, Miss Lilian, as young ladies are" — he 
 should not have called her by her Christian 
 name, but she looked so pitiful and child- 
 like in her sorrow, that he was moved to do 
 so — " but he is a brave soldier and a gentle- 
 man, and such are always kind to women, 
 even when they are not their wives, and 
 how much more when they have given up 
 home and friends and fortune to become 
 their brides. I was at school and college 
 with him, where he was most popular 
 with all of us, and I was his dearest 
 friend." 
 
 " Why do you say ' was,' Mr. Litton ? 
 A friend is a friend for ever, is he not ?" 
 
 " But Selwyn is proud ; and being poor, 
 as I am afraid he is, he has withdrawn him-
 
 LUy. 215 
 
 self from me of late, though I myself am 
 poor enough, Heaven knows. If he were 
 rich, this marriage would have taken place 
 as a matter of course ; he would have been 
 a welcome son-in-law ; and you, the sister 
 of his wife, would never have had these 
 doubts about him." 
 
 " That is true, Mr. Litton, and you give 
 me much comfort," answered Lilian grate- 
 fully. " I have not felt so hopeful since — 
 since Lotty left us. How dreadful it is 
 that money — or the w^ant of it — should 
 work such ruin!" 
 
 "Money is much. Miss Lilian," answ^ered 
 Walter ; " and if not a blessing to those 
 w^ho have it, a sad lack to those who have 
 it not." 
 
 "Yet you do not care for money, Mr. 
 Litton, or you would not have returned my 
 father's cheque." 
 
 '' Oh yes, I do," replied he, smiling : 
 " only other things are as dear to me, or 
 dearer. Besides, though I have but little, 
 I do not need it, as poor Selwyn does." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," sighed she; "they are 
 very poor. She told me, that if it had not 
 been for some small sum advanced them by
 
 214 Walters Word. 
 
 a friend of Captain Selwyn's — I think it was 
 but fifty pounds — they would have been in 
 absolute want. Oh, is it not terrible to 
 think of that, while I am living here in 
 comfort — splendour ! Don't think harshly 
 of me for it; I have done what I 
 
 could " 
 
 " I am sure of that," interrupted Walter 
 earnestly ; " indeed, Selwyn told me so him- 
 self" 
 
 * " Did he ?" answered she eagerly. " I 
 am glad of that. I mean to say, 1 was afraid 
 he thought I had not done my best ; that I 
 might have parted with — things my father 
 gave me. He does not understand papa, or 
 that such a course would have injured Lotty 
 in the end. As it is, there is some hope — 
 thanks to you for the first gleam of it — that 
 nature is asserting herself within him. He 
 is jealous of my suspecting such a change, 
 but it is at work. This desire to have your 
 picture is evidence of it ; and especially the 
 pains he took to conceal his own part in the 
 matter. It was at his request that I wrote 
 to you in the name of Mr. Burroughes — his 
 solicitor — so that you should not discover, 
 in case you were really acquainted with
 
 Lily, 215 
 
 Lotty, that the application came from her 
 father." 
 
 " I see/' said Walter thoughtfully, '' and 
 I agree with j'ou that it augurs well. Should 
 all come right by the help of my poor picture, 
 I shall be glad indeed." 
 
 " I am sure you will ; and you may be 
 proud as Avell as glad, for never can Art 
 have achieved a nobler end than to restore 
 a daughter to her father." 
 
 " If it had but been designed," sighed 
 Walter. 
 
 "Nay, but no less the skill," answered 
 Lilian promptly. " It was not only that 
 you remembered Lotty 's face, and drew it, 
 but that you portrayed the story of her 
 sorrow, and touched my father's heart with 
 its relation. We are 3'our debtors for that, 
 at all events, and I for one shall not easily 
 forget it." 
 
 Where was it, and on what occasion, that 
 Walter had once before — and only once — 
 experienced the sensations he felt now — tiiat 
 bliss of grateful acknowledgment ; the thrill 
 of a tone more exquisite than any music ; 
 the sunshine of a smile more beautiful than 
 Murillo ever painted ? At Penaddon, when
 
 216 Walter's Word. 
 
 Lotty had thanked him for his escort and 
 assistance. But with his happiness had 
 mingled then a pain, and now there was no 
 pain, but only happiness. Lotty stood once 
 more before him, or so it seemed, but there 
 was no Eeginald to come between them. 
 
 *
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 THE COMMISSION. 
 
 T the little dinner-party at Willow- 
 A19i bank that afternoon there was 
 not much talk, yet Walter thought 
 that he had never enjoyed so pleasant a 
 meal ; Mr. Brown did his best, though it 
 evidently cost him an effort to play the 
 host, and if his civilities had something of 
 patronage about it, the young painter was 
 in no humour to resent it. The rich man's 
 swelling sense of importance, and decisive 
 manner of laying down the law, as though 
 wealth could confer the power of judging 
 rightly on all subjects, did not arouse his con- 
 tempt ; for this old man, the father of Lotty 
 and of Lilian, had awakened a strange 
 interest within him. Lilian, accustomed to 
 be silent in her father's presence, spoke but
 
 218 Walter's Word. 
 
 little, yet all she did say had sense and 
 kindness in it ; when they spoke of art, she 
 exhibited no raptures, such as most women 
 use when they wish to be thought enthu- 
 siastic ; nor, on the other hand, did she 
 advance her opinions under cover of that 
 sorry shield of pretended ignorance : " I 
 know nothing about it, you know ; please 
 tell me if I am wrong, &c.," which so often 
 conceals a stubborn conceit. When her 
 father became taciturn, as he often did, she 
 knew how to rouse him from his moody 
 thoughts, by starting some subject pertain- 
 ing to his own pursuits, and whenever a 
 hitch occurred — some point of difference 
 between host and guest, such as, from the 
 total dissimilarity of their characters, could 
 not at times but arise — she smoothed it 
 away with some graceful jest. It was not 
 without some secret sense of disloyalty that 
 Walter found himself comparing the two 
 sisters with one another, to the disadvantage 
 of the absent one. Lotty had certainly never 
 exhibited such tact and graciousness, but in 
 her case there had been no such opportunity 
 for their display ; she had had no judgments 
 to pass, no opinions to offer, no feelings
 
 The Commission, 219 
 
 even to express, except with respect to one 
 person and one object. Perhaps when 
 Lilian came to be in love her thoughts 
 would also be enclosed in the same narrow 
 circle. Since they were so broad and com- 
 prehensive, it was probable that she was 
 not in love, and that was somehow a very 
 pleasant reflection to Walter. We have all 
 experienced, I suppose — we men — in our 
 time, a satisfaction at feeling confident that 
 the charming young person by whom we 
 are seated for an hour or so, even if we are 
 never to see her again, is for the present 
 fancy free ; that she can feel an interest in 
 what we say, if not in ourselves ; that she 
 has thoughts, which she can interchange 
 with us, of her very own ; that she is not 
 as yet absorbed, as young ladies sooner or 
 later become, in the individuality of some 
 one of the opposite sex, not at all likely 
 (taking the average of male creatures) to 
 be in any way superior to ourselves. In 
 Walter's case, the consciousness that there 
 was a secret between Lilian and himself 
 gave intensity to this pleasure, yet no one 
 will surely venture to assert that he had 
 fallen in love with his young hostess. The
 
 220 Walter^s Word. 
 
 recollection of the circumstances that had 
 admitted him to her presence, must alone 
 have been sufficient to preserve him from 
 such folly; he was poorer even than his 
 friend the captain ; his future was even still 
 less promising ; and after the experience of 
 his host's conduct towards her whom Lilian 
 had herself described as his favourite 
 daughter, what hope could there be of 
 Mr. Brown's looking with favour — nay, 
 with patience — at the pretensions of such a 
 suitor as Mr. Walter Litton ! At all events 
 Mr. Christopher Brown, who was said to be 
 worth a plum, the fruit too of his own 
 planting, and who had a great character for 
 good judgment in the City, was evidently of 
 the opinion that no such maggot could have 
 entered into the young guest's brain, as will 
 be seen from a certain proposition he made 
 to him after dinner. 
 
 • That period " across the walnuts and the 
 wine" had been looked forward to by Walter 
 with some dismay : he would have liked to 
 have gone at once into the drawing-room, 
 and listened to Lilian's playing on the 
 piano, a little nearer than at the distance it 
 now came to him through the wall ; or, if
 
 The Commission. 221 
 
 that might not have been, even to have left 
 Willowbank at once, and finished the 
 evening with his friend Jack over the 
 fragrant pipe. He felt that wealth was not 
 the only thing that he had not in common 
 with this friendly Croesus, and that an " un- 
 pleasant quarter of an hour," and perhaps a 
 good deal more — for his host had ordered 
 spirits-and-water for himself — was in store 
 for him. If he would only talk of Lotty, 
 then indeed he would try his very best to 
 do her some service ; but that he should 
 choose such a topic to converse on with an 
 utter stranger, seemed to the last degree 
 improbable. It was to his great relief 
 therefore that so soon as the young lady 
 had withdrawn, his host observed : " You 
 smoke, of course ?" for tobacco, amongst 
 its other priceless benefits, confers the ad- 
 vantage of silence without embarrassment. 
 " There are some cigars, young gentleman, 
 such as you have seMom tasted," added the 
 old man, as the box was handed round ; 
 " they cost me three guineas a pound, 
 though I imported them myself." 
 • " They are excellent, no doubt, sir ; but I 
 hope you wiU not feel aggrieved if I take a
 
 222 Walters Word. 
 
 pipe instead : I am accustomed to pipes, 
 and do not wish to acquire extravagant 
 habits." 
 
 Walter said this in joke, since, as a 
 matter of fact, he greatly preferred a pipe 
 to a cigar, but his companion took him an 
 pied de la lettre. 
 
 " That shows you are a very sensible 
 young fellow," said he approvingly. " I 
 did not take to smoking myself till I was 
 long past your age, because I couldn't afford 
 it ; and I would have smoked pipes if they 
 had agreed with me. As it was, I smoked 
 cheroots. Can you guess why ?" 
 
 " Well, no, sir ; these things are so much 
 a matter of fancy." 
 
 " I never do anything from fancy, Mr. 
 Litton, and I never did. I smoked cheroots, 
 partly because they were cheaper, partly 
 because I hated the extravagance of biting 
 off the end of a cigar and throwing it away. 
 The wasting of that end was a positive 
 wickedness in my eyes — a mere wanton 
 sacrifice to the caprices of fashion." 
 
 " I see," said Walter, amused at his host's 
 devotion to principle in such a matter * 
 " and I suppose you put the small end of
 
 The Commission, 223 
 
 the cheroot in your mouth instead of the 
 big end ?" 
 
 "Most certainly I did," returned his 
 companion seriously : " a man who does 
 otherwise is, in my opinion, a mere wasteful 
 puppy." 
 
 " But they say it draws better." 
 
 " That's rubbish," interrupted the other ; 
 " a transparent device of the manufacturer, 
 to cause a greater consumption of the 
 material he supplies. Why, you ought to 
 know that, since you know so much about 
 * drawing,' eh ?" — and the old gentleman 
 stirred his toddy, and expressed that species 
 of satisfaction peculiar to persons who do 
 not often make jokes, but when they do, 
 flatter themselves that they are success- 
 ful. 
 
 Walter laughed, as in duty bound, and 
 said it was very polite in Mr. Brown to give 
 him credit for knowledge in his calling. 
 
 " Not at all, sir ; I never pay compli- 
 ments," said his host. " I know something 
 about your ' art,' as you painters are so fond 
 of calling it, though I have paid for it pretty 
 dearly. There is more than a thousand 
 pounds ' locked up,' as I call it, in this house
 
 224 Walters Word. 
 
 — the interest of money that I have spent 
 in pictures. It is not a bad investment in 
 these days, to those who can stand the 
 immediate loss. O yes, you can draw and 
 paint too, Mr. Litton. Now, with respect 
 to this picture ' Supplication ' " — here his 
 voice became suddenly grave and earnest 
 — " did it take you long ?" 
 
 "Well, yes, sir; many months. But it 
 need not have done so, had I not lingered 
 over it : one does, you know, over work that 
 pleases one." 
 
 '' Just so ; I have done it myself," 
 answered the other thoughtfully, " many and 
 many a day, when all the other clerks had 
 left, have I sat at my desk conning over 
 every figure; but your figures are very 
 different, eh?" 
 
 The old gentleman's tone was still jocose, 
 yet it was evident from his manner that he 
 was upon a topic that had a serious interest 
 for him. 
 
 "Did you paint this picture from — from 
 the life?" 
 
 " I did, sir ; that is, a model sat to me for 
 it." 
 
 " A model ? Do you mean a young lady ?"
 
 The Commission. 225 
 
 asked Mr. Brown in a voice that in its ea^er 
 curiosity was almost anxious. 
 
 '' Yes ; a joung woman sat for the picture ; 
 it was originally intended to be a portion of 
 an historical work : I painted her as Queen 
 Philippa beseeching her husband to spare 
 the citizens of Calais : only there is no King 
 Edward, and no citizens." 
 
 " Ah, indeed." Then, after a pause : 
 "You recognised the likeness to my daughter 
 Lilian, I perceived ?" 
 
 "Well, yes, sir." 
 
 "And yet you never saw her before^ I 
 suppose ?" 
 
 "Xever to my knowledge." 
 
 " Well, I should like another portrait of 
 her, this time taken from the life, but 
 treated in the same style, so as to make as 
 it were a companion picture. Is there not 
 some one in history — some girl — who had 
 no necessity to plead for pardon, either for 
 herself or others ; one whose character was 
 faithful, dutiful, unselfish, like my Lilian ?" 
 
 " There is Joan of Arc, sir," reflected 
 Walter; "a hackneyed subject, it is true; 
 but so far, for that matter, is Philippa. I 
 could paint your daughter in that character: 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 Waiter's Word. 
 
 faithful, dutiful, helpful for others, cheerful, 
 in spite of adverse fate ; but it would put 
 the young lady to some inconvenience ; 
 these historical subjects take more time than 
 ordinary portraits." 
 
 '' I see. But can you not, as in the other 
 case, get some one else to sit in the proper 
 costume and so forth — the same, perhaps, 
 as sat before — and then, for the features 
 and expression, paint from my daughter her- 
 self?" 
 
 " That is possible, sir ; but I cannot 
 promise to produce so good a likeness as in 
 the first instance, where I had no original 
 before me. These chance successes are 
 difficult to repeat. There is an old story of a 
 painter who could not paint a cloud to his 
 liking, and in his irritation threw the brush 
 at the canvas, which made by accident the 
 very effect he wished to produce; but if he 
 had thrown the brush a second time it 
 would probably not have made a second 
 cloud. I will do my best, however." 
 
 *' No man can do more, sir. We will 
 consider that as settled, and I will give you 
 the three hundred pounds for the Joan 
 which you refused for the Philippa. Yes,
 
 The Commission. 227 
 
 yes ; I must have mj own way this time ; 
 and Lilian will sit to you when you 
 wish." 
 
 " Under the circumstances, T shall not 
 need to trouble her for some time ; the ^tq- 
 liminary work will take " 
 
 " Well, well, begin it at once, that's all," 
 interrupted his host impatiently. " You 
 gentlemen of the brush are rather slow in 
 your movements ; it is the same with the 
 other sort of painters, whom one can never 
 get out of the house. Xow I suppose I 
 shall not be able to get this Philippa picture 
 till the autumn, shall I ?" 
 
 " Xot till after the Academy is closed. 
 No, sir ; I fear not." 
 
 " Wei], that's a great injustice. When a 
 picture is bought and paid for, one ought to 
 do what one likes with it ; that's my notion 
 of property.'* 
 
 " But consider, sir, if everybody acted 
 upon that idea, what blank spaces there 
 would be on the walls before the Exhibition 
 was over I" 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ; let them paint the walls." 
 
 It was clear the old gentleman was 
 getting irritable. Up to this point Walter 
 
 15—3
 
 228 Walter's Word. 
 
 felt that he had made a favourable im- 
 pression, and much as he wished to see 
 Lilian again that evening, lie feared this im- 
 pression might be marred by his delaying 
 longer at Willowbank. The gout was evi- 
 dently beginning to trouble his host, and 
 there were indications in his manner which 
 showed he was growing impatient of the 
 presence of his young guest. 
 
 ''Well, if you will allow me, Mr. Brown, 
 I will set about this affair of your daughter's 
 picture — since you seem to be in a hurry for 
 it — at once ; it is still early, so that I may, 
 perhaps, this very evening secure the ser- 
 vices of my model for to-morrow." 
 
 "An excellent thought, Mr. Litton," re- 
 turned the old gentleman with an eagerness 
 that showed how accurately his guest had 
 read his wishes. " I like to see a young man 
 prompt in business. My daughter is also my 
 nurse, and just now I require her services 
 for this hand of mine ; so perhaps you will 
 excuse her entertaining you in the drawing- 
 room. I will make your compliments to her 
 for you ; and do you drop me a line when you 
 are ready to paint her. Good- bye, sir, good- 
 bye." And in five minutes Walter found
 
 The Commission, 229 
 
 himself on the other side of the lodge-gate, 
 and in the world of London. 
 
 The events of the last few hours seemed 
 to him like a dream, and yet the result of 
 them had been very material. He had a 
 cheque for a hundred pounds in his pocket, 
 and had obtained a commission which would 
 bring him in three hundred more. But this 
 was the least part of what had happened to 
 him. He was conscious of a complete re- 
 volution in his own feelings. He adored 
 Lotty still with the same honest devotion 
 as of old ; his interest in her was just as 
 great, and his desire to help her had even 
 become active instead of passive ; but there 
 was not the same sense of hopelessness 
 within him as he had experienced hereto- 
 fore. He had not transferred his allegiance 
 to her sister ; he was loyal as ever to her 
 canse ; but he felt, for the first time, that 
 his allegiance might be due elsewhere than 
 to Lotty. His position was somewhat 
 analogous to that of a wavering Jacobite, 
 who could own a king de facto as well as a 
 king de jure. What astonished him most 
 was, that he felt no regret that he had sold 
 his picture ; he endeavoured to account for
 
 230 Walter's Word. 
 
 this by the reflection that it was passing 
 into the hands, not of strangers, but of 
 those who had a greater right to it than 
 himself; but what undoubtedly more com- 
 pensated him for its loss, was the fact that 
 he was about to paint its companion portrait 
 from the life ; that he must needs spend 
 days, perhaps weeks, at Willowbank with 
 Lotty's sister, and so in a manner would 
 have the original beside him to console him 
 for the absence of the copy. 
 
 The first step to be taken was to seek out 
 little Eed Eiding-hood, and to covenant 
 with her for certain sittings which were to 
 be commenced forthwith ; and to this end 
 he bent his way towards her humble dwell- 
 ing. It was a mere business affair to him 
 — just as buying stock would have been to 
 Mr. Christopher Brown— and the only 
 consideration that he had in his mind 
 was, what increase should be made in Miss 
 Nellie Neale's rate of pay for her services — 
 which should in some measure reflect his 
 own good fortune, and yet not spoil the 
 market? The romance of that eventful 
 afternoon, however, was by no means over for 
 him yet.
 
 s 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 Nellie's lover. 
 
 HE private residence of Mr. Neale, 
 as distinguished from his pro- 
 fessional abode at the corner of 
 Beech Street (which was in fact a cellar, 
 though it was called a stall), was quite a 
 palatial dwelling, if he had occupied the 
 whole of the premises himself; hut of the 
 five rooms of which the house was composed, 
 he let out two to lodgers, and therefore the 
 parlour on his ground-floor was not dedi- 
 cated solely to the reception of visitors ; it 
 was the dining-room, and also the kitchen, 
 whereby, let us hope, that great desideratum, 
 heat, was always insured for his mutton- 
 chops, and the plates that they were served 
 upon. But Mr. Neale, it is to be feared, 
 did not often rejoice in mutton-chops; it
 
 232 Walters Word. 
 
 was a dish that very, very rarely was tasted, 
 or even smelt, by the inhabitants of Little 
 Grime Street, in which he lived. The day 
 on which there was bacon enough for him- 
 self and his four children, including Nellie, 
 who was the only one grown up, was a 
 feast-day with the family, and one which he 
 would have marked with a white stone, if 
 he had known how to do it. There was 
 some sort of cookery, however, in progress 
 when Mr. Walter Litton looked in, sufficient 
 at all events to call forth the apologies of 
 the cobbler, who was himself superintending 
 it ; while his three little girls were arrang- 
 ing the supper-table, quite in the Eussian 
 fashion, with a lettuce of the size of a 
 parasol, and some remarkably fine onions. 
 
 "It is not for you to apologize, but for 
 me, Mr. Neale^, for having intruded on your 
 supper-hour,'' said Walter, patting the curly 
 head of the smallest girl. " Why, your 
 board looks like Covent Garden, little 
 missis." 
 
 "Well, yes, sir," answered the cobbler, 
 stirring the vessel on the fire with a large 
 iron spoon ; " when meat is scarce, we 
 makes it up with vegetables; they are
 
 Nellie's Lover. 233 
 
 always wholesome, and they're very filling. 
 Wont you take a chair, Mr. Litton ?" 
 
 The cobbler was a great favourite of 
 Walter's, and the regard was reciprocal. 
 The worthy man had long lo^t his wife, and 
 had had a hard time of it in endeavouring 
 to bring up his four girls in comfort and 
 respectability ; he was obliged to be much 
 away from home, nor had he been able to 
 afford to hire any one to look after them in 
 his absence ; but they were good girls, he 
 said, " though he said it who shouldn't say 
 it;" and the elder ones had "seen to" their 
 juniors, and when nine years old were 
 better housekeepers than many young ladies 
 are found to be who marry at nineteen. He 
 had a hearty cheerful face, not at all hand- 
 some, but with an honest pride in it ; and 
 though his locks were grizzled, he looked as 
 though there was happiness for him yet, 
 such as a man generally contrives to find 
 who works for others and does his duty by 
 them. 
 
 " Where's Nellie ?" inquired Walter, 
 " that vou are doing the cooking, Mr. 
 Neale ?"^ 
 
 " Well, it's only tripe, sir," answered the
 
 234 Walters Word. 
 
 cobbler ; " and slie knows I'm equal to that. 
 She'll be home in a minute or two ; indeed, 
 I thought it was her when you came 
 m. 
 
 " It's rather late for her to be out, is it 
 not ?" said Walter. 
 
 " Well, no, sir ; not this beautiful summer 
 weather : the cool air does her good, and I 
 ain't afraid of her getting harm in other 
 ways, thank God ! Nellie's a good girl, if 
 ever there was one. But she ain't well, sir. 
 Perhaps you haven't noticed it, but the last 
 few days she has seemed to me more white 
 and spiritlesslike, and she's been ailing off 
 and on ever since the spring." 
 
 "I have not seen any change in her of 
 late at all," said Walter gravely. 
 
 " I daresay not, sir ; but then, you see, 
 you're not her father. Not but that you 
 have behaved as kind and honest to her as 
 though you were, Mr. Litton. I have 
 reason to be thankful to you on many 
 accounts. Heaven knows ! You're having 
 her to sit for you so constant is a great help 
 to us, though I wish it would be in the 
 mornings, as it used to be, and not so late 
 in the day. By the time you have done
 
 Nellie's Lover. 235 
 
 with her, and she has raade her little pur- 
 chases for the house, it's getting on for bed- 
 time, and I scarcely see anything of her 
 now. 
 
 " I wish her to come in the mornings," 
 said Walter quietly ; " that will suit me 
 better, as it happens, for the future. Will 
 you ask her to come in to-morrow at the 
 old time, instead of the afternoon ? She 
 will understand if you just say that." 
 
 " I will tell her, sir, and with great 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Yes ; but don't tell her that I called, 
 Mr. Keale; say I sent round a message, 
 will you ? I have a reason for it. " 
 
 '' A reason for it ?" said the cobbler. 
 " Deary me ! She has not offended you, I 
 hopeP" 
 
 " Not at all. The fact is. I have some 
 news for her; and I wish to tell it her 
 myself I have just sold the picture for 
 which she sat for a good sum, and I think I 
 can afford her a little better pay." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, you are very good. Why, 
 it is only the other day — not a month ago — 
 that you increased it. She has been even 
 able to save some money to give herself a
 
 236 Walter's Word. 
 
 few days at the seaside next month, which 
 we are in hopes will do her good." 
 
 "Indeed," said Walter dryly. "Well, 
 just give her my card, with these few words 
 on it, and don*t say a word — nor let her 
 sisters say one — of my having called here." 
 
 The old cobbler promised readily ; and the 
 little girls, delighted at the surprise that 
 was awaiting their sister on the morrow, 
 and the nature of which they thoroughly 
 appreciated, promised also. Indeed, as 
 Walter quitted that humble roof he left 
 the whole family radiant. But the smile 
 faded off his own lips so soon as he had shut 
 the door behind him. Had poor little Eed 
 Eiding-hood gone to the bad ? was his first 
 thought ; and the conviction that it was so 
 gave him the sincerest sorrow. He was 
 frank and simple in character, but it was 
 not through ignorance of the ways of the 
 world, and especially of the London world. 
 Directly the old cobbler had said : "Perhaps 
 you haven't noticed it, but the last few days 
 Nellie has looked white and spiritless," he 
 had at once grasped the fact that she was 
 deceiving her father, and making a pre- 
 tended engagement in his studio an excuse
 
 Nellies Lover. 237 
 
 for her absence from home. He had not 
 himself set eyes on the gM for seven weeks. 
 Most persons in his place would at once 
 have blurted out the truth, but he had not had 
 the heart — that is the hardness of heart— to 
 do so. Any time would be time enough to 
 tell the poor old man of his daughter's 
 shame, if she had stooped to shame ; and it 
 might be possible to spare him even yet. If 
 Nellie knew that he had called in person, 
 she would conclude that he had discovered 
 her deceit, and would perhaps have refused 
 to come to Beech Street. His common- 
 sense told him that in such a case there was 
 extreme danger of precipitating a catastrophe : 
 many a girl on the road to ruin has been 
 hurried on to that fatal goal by the re- 
 proaches of those who have taken it for 
 granted that it has been already reached. 
 That it had been reached by poor Nellie, 
 "Walter had only too much cause to fear. 
 That she had taken money from some one, 
 pretending that it was her earnings in 
 Beech Street, was a bad sign indeed ; while 
 that talk of a few days at the sea seemed to 
 point only too surely to her intention of 
 leaving home at no distant date with her
 
 238 Walters Word. 
 
 betrayer. But until lie was certain of this 
 he resolved to shield Eed Eiding-hood not 
 only from evil to come, if that might be 
 possible, but also from reproach for what 
 had passed ; and to conceal what he had 
 learnt even from his friend Pelter, though 
 Jack himself had shown a kind interest in 
 Nellie. It was not so much far-sighted 
 prudence — the reflection that a girl's good 
 name once spoken against is not to be 
 lightly cleared, even from groundless 
 scandal — as sheer tenderness of heart, that 
 actuated Walter in this matter, and wliich 
 was at once his strength and his weakness. 
 If it had caused him to " philander" with a 
 married woman, it also kept his lips sealed 
 as with the seal of confession with respect to 
 the frailties of a single one. He had plenty 
 to tell Jack (though he by no means told 
 him all) with reference to his visit to 
 Willowbank, without touching on any other 
 subject, and they sat up together half the 
 night discoursing upon it. Jack thought 
 Mr. Christopher Brown ought to have come 
 down more handsomely in the case of 
 Philippa (for Walter had not told him how 
 he had been tempted by " advances," and
 
 Nellie's Lover, 239 
 
 refused them, and given way in the end to 
 sentiment) : " A hundred pouuds is far too 
 little to have taken from so big a fish as Mr. 
 Brown; but, on the other hand, he will be 
 punished for his parsimony by giving three 
 hundred for your next picture, which wont 
 be half so good. No, sir. Mark my words : 
 Joan will be comparatively a failure. The 
 inspiration will now be wanting, unless, 
 indeed, you happen to take a fancy to this 
 young lady in duplicate." Walter smiled 
 what he flattered himself was a smile of 
 sadness. " Well, my lad, that is as it may 
 be. I have known a heart, dead and 
 buried as it were in barren ground, dug 
 up, and going again very wholesomely, 
 before now. At all events, your material 
 prospects have now become very flourishing 
 indeed, and I congratulate you upon them 
 most heartily. There will be lots of work 
 to do at that house. You will have to 
 paint the old gentleman himself " 
 
 " In lamp-black," suggested Walter. 
 
 " No, no ; I mean Mr. Brown. You 
 must make him very solid and irrefragable ; 
 his cheque-book lying before him upon that 
 plain desk, which you may depend upon it
 
 240 Walters Word. 
 
 was the one he used when he had but fifty 
 pounds a year and the reversion of his em- 
 ployer's boots. It has the same interest for 
 him, I don't doubt, as Sir Isaac Newton's 
 first arithmetic book, or Nelson's earliest 
 toy-ship, would have for the public. He is 
 one of the great professors of the art of 
 getting money, and understands it 
 thoroughly; but he knows nothing about 
 how to spend it, and you must teach it 
 him. Point out the desirability of his 
 having frescoes upon the staircase walls, 
 and when you have convinced him give 
 him my card. ' Orders executed for frescoes 
 with punctuality and despatch,' shall be 
 printed upon it, expressly to 'fetch' him. 
 I shall rise with you, "Watty — I feel it — up 
 that staircase. Let us embrace. Let us 
 drink the health of 'Christie Brown' — it 
 sounds quite poetical. There is Christie 
 Johnson, gone, poor thing; and Christie 
 somebody else, I don't know which, but it 
 haunts me. Oh, it's the auctioneer. Well, 
 he's always 'going,' and that's sad too. 
 Bless you, Watty; you are enriched, and 
 yet you are affable !" 
 
 From the style of which discourse, it
 
 Nellie's Lover. 241 
 
 may be gathered that Mr. Jolm Pelter had 
 been wishing luck to his friend for a con- 
 siderable time, and was rather overcome by 
 his feelings, and what he had mixed with 
 them. 
 
 " You'll set to work at once, Watty, of 
 course," were his farewell words. " I wont 
 keep you up. Early to bed and early to 
 rise, is the way to get — screwed, yes, veri/ 
 screwed, by Jove ! But you loill set to 
 work at once, for my sake ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes. Nellie Neale is coming to- 
 morrow morning to sit for the Joan. 
 Good night, Jack ; good night." And 
 Jack took himself off with difficulty, 
 stopping more than once upon the stairs to 
 wink at the moon, which was shining very 
 brightly, and to remark that, though so 
 rich, she was affable. 
 
 For once "Walter did not bewail the 
 weakness to which his friend had given 
 way, for whenever he so committed him- 
 self he was certain to be late on the 
 ensuing morning, and he did not wish him 
 to see Nellie. 
 
 He had little hope that Eed Eiding-hood 
 would sit as his model any more, and if 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 Walters Word. 
 
 that should happen it was better that she 
 should come and go without the observation 
 of a third person. It had seemed easy for him, 
 when in Little Grime Street, in presence of 
 her fother and sisters, to administer reproof 
 to Eed Eiding-hood, and to warn her 
 against a course of conduct which must 
 needs bring shame upon them all ; but in 
 his own bachelor apartments, as the hour 
 drew near for him to play the part of 
 Mentor, he became conscious of his personal 
 unfitness for that role, and almost regretted 
 that he had not left her misconduct to be 
 dealt with by her natural guardian and pro- 
 tector. However, it was too late now for 
 retreat, and he had to screw his courage up 
 as best he might ; only he could not help 
 wishing that he was the clergyman of the 
 parish, or at all events the father of a 
 family. Nellie was always punctual, and 
 at the appointed hour he heard her ring at 
 the door, her well-known step upon the 
 stairs : if he had not heard them, he would 
 hardly have recognised her when she 
 entered. She was as pretty as ever, indeed, 
 perhaps prettier, for loss of colour does not 
 detract from your dark beauties ; but she
 
 Nellie s Lover. 243 
 
 looked very pale, and worn and thin ; the 
 brightness that had once lit up her face on 
 bidding him good morning was exchanged 
 for a spasmodic smile, which passed away 
 with her salutation, and even before it — 
 " went out," as it were, leaving the fair face 
 blank and desolate. She was no more 
 Little Eed Eiding-hood, but had grown up 
 to find that there were wolves in the world 
 under a more attractive guise than even 
 one's grandmother. Her dress was always 
 neat, but he noticed that it was made of 
 better material than heretofore. 
 
 " Mj' father told me, Mr. Litton, that you 
 had sent last night " 
 
 " I called myself," interrupted Walter 
 quietly, " and saw your father. Take a chair, 
 Nellie." 
 
 She was very glad to do so, as he saw, for 
 she trembled from head to foot. 
 
 "I — I didn't understand that you had 
 been there yourself, sir." 
 
 " Yes ; I wished to see you about sitting 
 for another picture." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; but I don't think I 
 can do that at present," answered Xellie 
 quickly. 
 
 10—2
 
 244 Walter's Word. 
 
 " And why not?" inquired "Walter, looking 
 as much like the clergyman of the parish, 
 or at all events the curate, as he could, and 
 adopting a tone such as he considered 
 suitable to ecclesiastical cross-examination. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Litton, I have my hands full 
 of other business. There's father and the 
 girls " 
 
 " Nay ; your hands are not full of t/iem, 
 Nellie." 
 
 Her attempt at duplicity gave him con- 
 fidence, for he had a natural hatred of and 
 indignation against lies. " It is no use your 
 pretending that to me, though you may 
 deceive t/iem by a story of your being 
 engaged in my studio every afternoon. 
 Suppose I had said to your father, ' She 
 has not been there for these seven weeks,' 
 as perhaps I ought to have said?" 
 
 Nellie answered not a word, but sat with 
 her eyes, with tears creeping slowly out of 
 them, fast fixed on the ground. 
 
 "It is not my place, Nellie, but your 
 father's place, to be talking to you about the 
 manner in which you spend your time. But 
 I do so to spare him, and, if it be possible, 
 to save yourself."
 
 Nellies Lover, 245 
 
 Her pale face flushed in a moment, and 
 she sprang to her feet. "What do you 
 mean by that, Mr. Litton?" cried she, con- 
 fronting him. " You have no right to say 
 such words." 
 
 " As your friend and your father's friend, 
 Nellie, I have a right; nor do I use them 
 without good cause, or at least what seems 
 so. When a young girl in your position — 
 I don't speak of it disdainfully, Heaven 
 knows I" for she had uttered an ejaculation 
 of what he took to be wounded pride : '' the 
 case would be most serious for any young 
 lady who should act thus ; but in your case 
 it is most dangerous — I say, when a girl 
 absents herself for hours daily from her 
 father's roof, and is so ashamed of her 
 occupation during that period as to conceal 
 it from him, nay, to trump up a false story, 
 in order to account for her absence, there is 
 good ground to suppose that she requires to 
 be saved — from herself, at least. If you 
 have a lover, why should you be ashamed 
 to confess it at home, if he is an honest 
 
 " He is a gentleman," said Nellie proudly. 
 "I am sorry to hear it," was Walter's
 
 246 Walter's Word. 
 
 dry reply ; "for in that case, under the cir- 
 cumstances, it is still more likely that he is 
 not honest." 
 
 "Yon do not flatter him, nor me, sir," 
 answered Nellie bitterly. 
 
 " I don't wish to flatter you ; I wish to 
 tell you the truth. If this man pretends 
 that he loves you, but bids you keep his 
 love a secret from your friends, he is lying ! 
 Do you suppose that it is you alone who can 
 deceive people by specious stories ? I dare- 
 say he has the best of reasons — private ones, 
 but such as you will understand, he says — 
 for not marrying you just at present. In 
 the meantime, he gives you money '* 
 
 " You are very, very cruel !" interrupted 
 Nelly, crying bitterly. " You misjudge 
 him altogether." 
 
 " Still, he does what I have said," 
 answered Walter drily. 
 
 " And if he does, he has a reason for it. 
 His family is a very high one. But there ! 
 it is no use saying anything to you, and 
 you have no right to say anything to me !" 
 
 And with that she turned as if to go. 
 There was a look of excited resolve in her 
 face which did not escape Walter's eyes ; he
 
 Nellies Lover. 247 
 
 stepped between her and the door, and 
 locked it. " You shall not go to that man 
 to-day," said he ; "I will send round to 
 your father at his stall, and he shall take 
 you home." 
 
 " no, no, no I" pleaded the girl, falling 
 on her knees. "Oh, do not tell my father!*' 
 
 " I will, so help me Heaven, Nellie, 
 unless you tell me who this man is. If he 
 is not a scoundrel, there can be no harm in 
 my satisfying myself upon that point. If 
 he is " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Litton, he is no scoundrel; he is 
 a gentleman Hke yourself; only he does not 
 wish folks to know about it. In a few days 
 I shall be his ; he has promised it ; but in 
 the meantime I was to tell nobody, and you 
 least of all." 
 
 " Me I What ! Do I know the man ?" 
 
 " yes ; he is a friend of yours ; I met 
 him — that is, he saw rae here for the first 
 time. It is Captain Selwyn. But he wiU 
 be so very, very angry if he knew I told you 
 his secret : on my knees, I beg of you not 
 to reveal " 
 
 " Kneel to God, and not to me, Nellie !" 
 said Walter, in hoarse but solemn tones,
 
 248 Walters Word, 
 
 " and thank Him tliat you have told me in 
 time to save you from ruin. Captain Selwyn 
 is a married man ; I saw him married with 
 my own eyes, not a year ago, in Cornwall." 
 " Married 1" echoed Nellie, and fell for- 
 ward on the floor, as though she had been 
 a lay figure, and no model. She had fainted 
 away.
 
 CHAPTEE XY. 
 
 COMING ROUND. 
 
 ALTER LITTON was neither a 
 Puritan nor a Saint ; his nature 
 was too genial to have permitted 
 himself to be either ; he thought many things 
 venial which morality would stigmatize as 
 vicious. But seduction was not in his eyes, 
 as so many men profess to regard it, an 
 impossibility, and he held it to be infamous 
 and cruel. In the ease of a married man, 
 he justly considered it to be especially crimi- 
 nal ; and if Nellie and her would-be betrayer 
 had both been strangers to him, he would 
 have pitied the one and abhorred the other. 
 But as it was, he had never felt such anger 
 against any human being as he did now 
 against Reginald Selwyn ; partly because he 
 had tried to ruin Little Red Riding-hood,
 
 250 Walters Word. 
 
 who in simplicity was almost as the child of 
 the nursery legend after which she had been 
 called; and partly because he was Lotty's 
 husband. With this last fact it was not his 
 business perhaps to have concerned him- 
 self; yet the reflection that the captain was 
 not even faithful to that tender flower that 
 he had transplanted from its home garden, 
 and which was fading in sunless poverty for 
 his sake, moved Walter most of all. If he 
 could have learned where the man was to be 
 found, he would not have hesitated to let 
 him know his opinion of him ; but this in- 
 formation Nellie resolutely refused to give. 
 " T shall see him once," said she, " to give 
 him back his presents ; but never again. 
 And there is no occasion for you to quarrel 
 with him on my account." She seemed 
 thoroughly to understand that he was a 
 scoundrel, though her words of reprobation 
 were few. " It was very false and cruel of 
 him," she sobbed, when Walter had "brought 
 her round" with a little cold water. "I 
 thought he was telling me the truth, Mr. 
 Litton, because I knew he was a friend of 
 yours." 
 
 " He will never be a friend of mine again/*
 
 Coming Round. 251 
 
 said Walter bitterly. " He is a liar and a 
 coward !" 
 
 " But I have been a liar too/' said she ; 
 " and very, very wicked. 0, sir ! what do I 
 not owe to you for having " 
 
 " There, there : don't say a word of that ; 
 but strive to make up to them at home for 
 the wrong you have done them. Ton have 
 had a narrow escape, Eed Eiding-hood, and 
 it should be a warning to you as long as you 
 live. The next time a man professes love 
 for you, and you reciprocate it " 
 
 Nellie shook her pretty head, and sobbed 
 out : " Never, never ! that is all over now. 
 And please don't call me Eed Eiding-hood 
 any more ; 1 don't deserve it." 
 
 " Well, well ; I only say, if such a thing 
 should happen, don't keep it from your 
 father. No good ever came from hiding 
 such a thing yet. As to this man Selwyn, 
 you have only to tell him from me " 
 
 " I shall tell him nothing from you, sir ; 
 I have done mischief enough between you 
 already, '' answered she firmly. 
 
 " But you will not let him persuade you 
 that he is not married ?" 
 
 *' no, no, sir !" and she gave a little
 
 252 Walters Word. 
 
 shudder of loathing, which Walter rightly 
 considered to be more assuring than any 
 protestations. 
 
 "And now, not this morning, but to- 
 morrow, you will come and sit to me as 
 usual ; and we will be grandmamma and little 
 Bed Eiding-hood together, just as we used 
 to be." 
 
 "I will come and sit to you, sir," said 
 Nellie humbly, and with a significant 
 ignoring of his last sentence, which was very 
 pitiful. 
 
 And the next morning, Nellie came as 
 usual, pale enough, but not with those fever- 
 bright eyes and haggard looks that she had 
 worn on the previous day. 
 
 " Tell me truly, is it all over between you 
 and that man ?" asked Walter ; but he 
 scarcely needed her earnest assurance that it 
 was so, to convince him that she was not 
 only out of danger, but cured. Anything 
 short of the actual cautery — ^the use of these 
 scathing words, " I saw him married with 
 my own eyes," which Litton had fortunately 
 been able to pronounce, would probably 
 have failed to eradicate the honeyed poison 
 of the treacherous captain ; but as it was,
 
 Coming Round, 253 
 
 she was saved. The shock of the operation 
 had, however, heen severe, and the poor 
 girl suffered sadly on her road to convales- 
 cence. It was well for her that, besides her 
 duties at home, she had once more her own 
 employment to occupy her thoughts ; and it 
 was also well to be in the company of the 
 friendly artist, whose presence could not but 
 remind her of the peril which, thanks to 
 him, she had escaped. 
 
 Walter worked hard at his new picture, 
 but it was a relief to him that for the present 
 he could do so at home. If he had had at 
 at once to present himself at his patron's 
 house while his wrath was at white-heat 
 against the captain, it would have been diffi- 
 cult for him to discourse of his former ally 
 to Lilian without her seeing that his regard 
 for him had evaporated. For the present 
 he had not only no forgiveness for him, but 
 not common patience — which means com- 
 mon charity. It was only after many days, 
 and by accusing himself (not without justice) 
 of being so furious against his friend, not 
 because he was a married man, but because he 
 had married Lotty, that he was able to look 
 upon his offence with calmer eyes. There
 
 254 Walter's Word. 
 
 was this to be said, however (and though it 
 made little difference in the moral aspect of 
 the question, it had a very mitigating effect 
 on Walter), no harm had been done after 
 all ; and when the time arrived for him to 
 revisit Willowbank he felt that he could 
 plead for the exiled pair, if his pleading 
 might be of any service, almost as honestly 
 as though the captain had not been one of 
 them. He found Mr. Brown in much better 
 case than on his first visit ; the gout had 
 left him, and with it much of his peevish- 
 ness and irritability; while Lilian was 
 looking more beautiful than ever. 
 
 He had chosen an upper room for his 
 studio, into which his host bustled cheerily 
 in and out, but kept no dragon's watch 
 over him. Upon the first opportunity of 
 their being alone together, Walter congratu- 
 lated his sitter upon her more cheerful 
 looks, which he attributed to the improve- 
 ment in her father's health. 
 
 "You are more like Joan in her 
 halcyon days than when I saw you last," 
 said he. 
 
 " You mean to say that I don't look so 
 much as though I had been condemned for
 
 Coming Round, 255 
 
 a witch, Mr. Litton/' answered she, smiling. 
 " Well, you will be glad to hear there is a 
 good reason for that." 
 
 "I gee one reason in your father's re- 
 covery." 
 
 " Yes ; and there is another, which has 
 also, as I believe, been the cause of his con- 
 valescence. There is now a well-grounded 
 hope that he will be reconciled with my 
 sister and her husband." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it," said Walter. 
 " May I learn how that has come about ?" 
 
 *' Well, partly, if not chiefly (as I shall 
 take care to tell them both) through that 
 picture of yours in the Academy. I don't 
 think a day has passed without my father's 
 having paid a visit there on his way home 
 from the City. He excuses himself upon 
 the ground that the Philippa is his property, 
 and that therefore he feels an interest in 
 it. But I know that he has a better reason 
 than that. Since, for the present, he cannot 
 see Lotty, he solaces himself with that 
 'counterfeit presentment' of her." 
 
 " But he can see her if he chooses, I 
 suppose ?" 
 
 *' Yes ; but there are certain outworks of
 
 256 Walter's Word. 
 
 pride to be broken down before he can per- 
 mit himself to be persuaded out of what 
 was once a very obstinate resolution. That 
 they are gradually giving way, however, I 
 am certain. A letter came to him lately 
 from Mrs. Sheldon — Captain Selwyn's aunt, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know her very well. But 
 I am surprised at her arguments having 
 such an effect, since she was the means — 
 that is, since it was from her house that 
 your sister was married." 
 
 " Very true ; but her husband has lately 
 died, and she has written in great sorrow, 
 wishing to be at peace, she says, with all 
 her fellow-creatures, and lamenting the in- 
 voluntary part she took in separating father 
 and child. You look incredulous, Mr. 
 Litton." 
 
 " Do I ? I did not mean to do so ; 
 though certainly I should not have credited 
 Mrs. Sheldon with such sentiments. But, 
 again, I should have thought your father to 
 be one of the last men in the world likely 
 to be moved by them — that is, of course, 
 from any source which might cause him to 
 suspect their authenticity."
 
 Coming Round. 257 
 
 " That is true enough," answered Lilian ; 
 "but Mrs. Sheldon's communication, it 
 seems (for I have not seen it with my own 
 eyes), also informed him that there was some 
 improvement in Captain Selwyn's prospects. 
 A distant cousin of his has died " 
 
 *' If it is the Irish cousin, then Selwyn is 
 Sir Eeginald," exclaimed Walter. 
 
 "I have heard nothing^ of that. He 
 gains little advantage, however, I am told, 
 in income ; but such as it is it makes the 
 marriage less unequal in point of fortune ; 
 or rather dear papa is willing to persuade 
 himself so, which is the main point. If he 
 can only be persuaded to forgive Lotty, she 
 and her husband could both come and live at 
 Willowbank, vou know, and we should be 
 so happy together. Then you would always 
 find your friend here, Mr. Litton, even if 
 papa should be out, to talk over old times. 
 You look as if there was some doubt of 
 that." 
 
 *'I must have a very incredulous coun- 
 tenance," observed Walter, smiling. 
 
 " You have a very decipherable one, and 
 I think I read it aright. Pray forgive me 
 for cross-examining you so particularly, Mr. 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 Walter's Word. 
 
 Litton ; but this niiitter is to me of the 
 most vital importance. You know Captain 
 Selvvyn's character much better than I do. 
 ])o you think it impossible, from your 
 knowledge of him, that he would be per- 
 suaded to live here ?" 
 
 ** Indeed, I do not. On the contrary, if 
 he has received no accession of income, I do 
 not see how he is well to live anywhere 
 else." 
 
 " But I am so afraid that papa and he 
 may not i^et on well together ; they are so 
 dillerent, you know, in their habits ; at 
 least 1 shoukl suppose so from all I have 
 heard of my brother-in-law." 
 
 " I think that would be of little con- 
 sequence," answered Walter; ''there would 
 on that very account be less cause for an- 
 tagonism between them. But in such a 
 case Selwyn having * sold out' would, of 
 course, become an idle man, and at his ace 
 that is seldom desirable." 
 
 If Walter Litton's face had been as 
 decipherable as Lilian had described it, 
 and if she had had the key of the cipher, it 
 might have told sad tales. He did not 
 think that plan of Selvvyn's living idle at
 
 Coming Round, 259 
 
 Willowbank would be at all conducive to 
 his wife's happiness ; but he could not say 
 so, nor even hint at it. 
 
 " Oh, but papa could give him something 
 to do ; he has often talked, for example, 
 of getting some one he could trust to 
 superintend his afifairs for him ; and don't 
 you think " 
 
 But here Mr. Brown himself happened to 
 look in, which preserved Walter from the 
 necessity of having to say what he thought 
 of making an ex-captain of Her Majesty's 
 dragoons, who had not at present been 
 remarkable for his business habits, into an 
 estate and property agent. And the subject 
 was not afterwards resumed by Lilian. She 
 was never tired, however, of talking about 
 Lotty, whose return to her home was 
 evidently her one absorbing thought. Not 
 a taint of jealousy, of fear lest she should 
 once more become her father's favourite, 
 and oust herself from the place which in 
 her absence she had occupied, tinged her 
 sisterly love. She had plenty of conversa- 
 tion upon all topics, for she had read and 
 thought much more than most girls of her 
 age, and indeed much more than Walter 
 
 17—2
 
 260 Walter's Word. 
 
 himself; but this homespun talk of hers 
 pleased him most — not only because it 
 concerned Lotty. Her every word seemed 
 to give assurance of the simplicity and 
 unselfishness that dictated it. In some 
 superficial respects she was inferior to her 
 sister. She had not so much of what her 
 sex term " style." She lacked that air of 
 conscious superiority, born of wealth and 
 beauty, which he had noticed in Lotty 
 when he first met her ; but she had the same 
 gentle graciousness of look and manner, 
 and twice the wits. It was shocking, as he 
 admitted to himself, to be making so odious 
 a comparison. If he had been interrogated 
 a month ago about Lotty' s intelligence he 
 would have pronounced it perfect ; the fact 
 being that her external charms had been so 
 all-sufficient for him, that he had not looked 
 beyond them ; but now he confessed that 
 Lilian w^as greatly her superior : she had 
 more sense, more feeling, more principle. 
 This was really very hard upon Lotty ; but 
 then everything was allowable, or at all 
 events excusable, because of this last ad- 
 vantage that Lilian certainly did possess — 
 her thoughts were not entirely monopolized
 
 Coming Bound. 261 
 
 by a beloved object (male). He did Qot 
 mind their dwelling upon Lotty — far from 
 it — but I think Mr. TTalter Litton would 
 have privately resented it had they dwelt 
 upon another Eeginald Selwyn. As for 
 having fallen in love with her himself, how- 
 ever, I have already stated what a sensible 
 young man he was, and how ridiculous, 
 impossible, and futile any such notion must 
 have appeared to him ; indeed he was con- 
 tinually repeating to himself a hundred 
 arguments against his committing such a 
 piece of folly, from which we may conclude 
 how safe and sound he felt. If this had 
 not been the case he would have been 
 placed in quite a dangerous position at 
 Willowbank, for Mr. Christopher Brown, as I 
 have said, left him a good deal alone with 
 Lilian in the painting-room ; and the de- 
 picting a very beautiful young lady as 
 Joan of Arc affords rather exceptional 
 opportunities for falling in love with her, 
 which a less prudent young gentleman would 
 have found it hard to put away from him. 
 This conduct of his host was caused by 
 his complete confidence in Lilian's character 
 and dutifulness, and not at all from the
 
 262 Walter's Word. 
 
 reflection that she would surely take 
 warning from her sister's fate. He con- 
 sidered Lotty's fiasco in the light of an 
 unparalleled misadventure, which could not 
 possibly happen twice in a respectable 
 family ; and perhaps even drew some com- 
 fort from its occurrence on that very 
 ground, just as some folks flatter themselves 
 that travelling by rail is all the safer 
 because an accident has taken place on the 
 same line the previous day. At all events 
 Mr, Brown was not only civil to the young 
 painter, but even, so far as his nature 
 permitted him to be, cordial and friendly. 
 He was confidential to him also after dinner; 
 as Walter thought, extremely confidential ; 
 but then he did not know that upon one 
 particular topic (and one only) Mr. Christo- 
 pher Brown was prone to be confidential to 
 everybody ; this was upon his own personal 
 history and rise in the world, which he was 
 wont to relate in a didactic manner for the 
 edification of any one he could get to listen 
 to him. How he had begun his financial 
 career by earning pennies for skidding the 
 wheels of omnibuses on Holborn Hill, which 
 was in reality a flight of imagination^
 
 Coming Round. 263 
 
 though he had told it so often that he had 
 actually begun to think that such was the 
 case. He had been employed, when quite a 
 lad, by the omnibus company, on acconnt 
 of his trustworthiness as a timekeeper, and 
 had occasionally put his shoulder, or at all 
 events his hand, to a wheel. But it was 
 Mr. Brown's weakness to disparage begin- 
 nings, as it is that of others to magnify 
 theirs, in order by contrast to make the 
 present, which he had finally achieved, the 
 more magnificent. " I nsed to earn pennies, 
 sir — that is, when I was fortunate enough 
 to get a penny for my tronble, instead of a 
 halfpenny — by skidding wheels in Holborn 
 Hill. But while they t/e^cended, I ascended; 
 while I put the drag on in their case, I 
 accelerated my own motion towards in- 
 dependence. The pennies became shillings, 
 and, begad ! I looked at a shilling more 
 than the proverbial number of times in 
 those days, let me tell you, before I parted 
 with it; and then the shillings became 
 pounds. I never got a hundred pounds in 
 a lump, young man, and far less three 
 hundred" (this was in delicate allusion to 
 the price agreed upon for Joan of Arc)
 
 264 Walters Word, 
 
 " when I was your age ; but what I did get 
 I saved, and put out to the best advan- 
 tage. I had only two friends in all the 
 world, sir, at that time, Diligence and 
 Economy ; but they stuck to me, and by 
 their help I won the fight/' 
 
 Mr. Brown might have added that his 
 too devoted allegiance to them " at that 
 time" had prevented his making friends of 
 a human sort till it was too late to make 
 them. If it had not been for his marriage, 
 which, to his honour, was one of affection, 
 he would have had nobody upon whose un- 
 selfish attachment he could have counted 
 for the smallest service, from those early 
 days on Holborn Hill up to the present 
 date. His wife had died; and one of his 
 daughters, as we have seen, had undutifully 
 deserted him, so that he had but faithful 
 Lilian left. She was a great treasure, it is 
 true, yet only too likely to pass into other 
 hands. It was no wonder that he reckoned 
 that wealth at a high value which was his 
 only consolation for the absence of friendly 
 faces, loving hands, and for the sake of 
 which he had foregone them. Walter
 
 Coming Bound. 265 
 
 pitied, and strove not to despise him, while 
 he quoted his shallow laws about getting 
 and saving, as though they were Holj Writ, 
 and boasted of his growing fortunes. The 
 old man thought him entranced with 
 wonder, and indeed he was so — with 
 wonder how, from such a crabbed stock, 
 two such dainty blossoms as Lilian and her 
 sister could have sprung. And yet Chris- 
 topher Brown had his good points about 
 him, to which his young guest was by no 
 means bhnd. He was really a man of strict 
 integrity, notwithstanding that he plumed 
 himself so on its possession ; nor was he 
 mean, though he was cautious in spending 
 the wealth which he had so drudgingly 
 acquired. " I can do as ' smart' a thing" 
 (by which he meant as liberal a one) '' as 
 any man, when I think fit," he would some- 
 times say ; and therein (though he did not 
 often think fit) he spoke no more than the 
 truth. On that first day Mr. Brown con- 
 fined his private conversation with his guest 
 almost entirely to the topic of his own 
 success in the world ; nor did he say one 
 syllable which would have led him to
 
 266 Walters Word. 
 
 imagine, liad he not been aware of the fact, 
 that he had another daughter beside Lilian. 
 And yet there was one circumstance which, 
 in Walter's eyes — which were sharp enough 
 in drawing a deduction — had a significant 
 reference to Lotty's marriage. After dinner 
 they had adjourned for smoking to an apart- 
 ment which was evidently the business 
 sanctum of the master of the house : a room 
 in which there was no furniture of the 
 ornamental kind, and not a single book, 
 except one bulky one which happened to be 
 lying on the table. This was the " Peerage 
 and Baronetage of the United Kingdom." 
 Walter was iar too much a man of the 
 world to be surprised at seeing such a 
 volume in such a place ; he knew that your 
 " self-made man" is by no means disinclined 
 to worship at the shrine of those who, 
 unlike himself, are indebted for their 
 making to their ancestors ; and he took it 
 up carelessly enough. He was not a little 
 struck, however, by its opening at a par- 
 ticular page, the leaf of which was turned 
 down, so as to point with its edge to the 
 name of Selwyn. " Selwyn, Sir Eichard,"
 
 Coming Bound, 267 
 
 he read, " fifth baronet ; Donaghadee, Ire- 
 land, and Long's Hotel, Bond Street. Un- 
 married. Heir F resumptive, Meginald Sehcyn^ 
 Captain \^th Dragoons!' 
 
 And these last words were underlined in 
 pencil.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE DEBT IS PAID. 
 
 WENTY-FOUE hours only had 
 elapsed when Walter paid his 
 second professional visit to Wil- 
 lowbank ; yet in that short interval, as he 
 could perceive by the manner of his host 
 and hostess, some important incident had 
 taken place. Mr. Brown was fussy and 
 nervous ; Lilian was nervous too, though 
 her bright eyes and cheerful tone betokened 
 an unusual elevation of spirits. Nothing 
 was said explanatory of this until the three 
 were in the painting-room, and Walter had 
 settled to his work. 
 
 Then, " Your picture is coming home 
 to-day, Mr. Litton," observed the old 
 merchant sententiously. 
 
 " My picture ! What ! from the Academy, 
 sir ? Nay ; that is impossible/*
 
 The Debt is Paid. 269 
 
 " Well, if not your picture, the living 
 likeness of it. You did not know perhaps 
 that I had another daughter — Lilian's twin- 
 sister ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, I knew it." 
 
 " Well, perhaps you know then that she 
 has been separated from us by an unfortunate 
 disagreement ; in fact, I objected to her 
 marriage, though she married well, as the 
 world calls it — that is, in point of position. 
 Her husband is Sir Eeginald Selwyn, Baronet 
 of the United Kingdom." 
 
 The air with which . the self-made man 
 delivered himself of this remarkable piece of 
 information was something stupendous. If 
 it had not been for Lilian's presence, and 
 for one other reason, Walter would have 
 burst out laughing. The other reason was 
 the somewhat serious difficulty of his own 
 position ; as to how much he should own to 
 being cognisant of; how much he ought to 
 pretend that he was hearing for the first 
 time. Upon the whole he thought it best 
 to hold his tongue, and bow. 
 
 "Yes, sir, my daughter is Lady Sel- 
 wyn " 
 
 The old gentleman hesitated, as though
 
 270 Walter's Word. 
 
 he were in doubt whether to add " also of 
 the United Kingdom" or not. " She has 
 been a stranger to her home for many 
 months ; but she is coming hither with her 
 husband to dine to-daj. I hope you will 
 join us ?" 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it, Mr. Brown. 
 But perhaps on such an occasion " 
 
 " A stranger might be in the way, you 
 think," interrupted the old gentleman. " On 
 the contrary, we should prefer it. It will 
 tend to make matters go more smoothly. 
 You have yourself too had a hand in the 
 matter — unwittingly, it is true — but still we 
 feel, both Lilian and myself, indebted to 
 you for Philippa. It cannot indeed be con- 
 sidered a portrait, for Lotty is all smiles and 
 brightness ; but there is a something in it 
 which has reminded me of her very much. 
 At all events we associate you, if you will 
 permit us to do so, with this auspicious 
 meeting." 
 
 Never before had Mr. Christopher Brown 
 delivered himself of such sentiments, or 
 given evidence of possessing such a graceful 
 eloquence. That the speech had been pre- 
 pared neither of his hearers could for a
 
 The Debt is Paid. 271 
 
 moment doubt, but vvbence could he have 
 culled this flowery style ? Could it have 
 been caught, thought Walter, from his con- 
 nexion — indirect as it was — with the 
 " Peerage and Baronetage of the United 
 Kingdom" already? 
 
 " Under these circumstances," continued 
 the old gentleman, " we hope you will not 
 refuse to meet Sir Eeginald and Lady Selwyn 
 at our table to-day ?" 
 
 " I shall be most pleased," said Walter ; 
 then feeling that something more than 
 pleasure was expected of him from such an 
 invitation, he added, " and honoured." 
 
 '*! am sure papa is very glad that you 
 are going to dine with us," said Lilian, when 
 the old gentleman left the room. " He feels 
 not a little embarrassment, after what has 
 passed, in meeting Captain Selwyn, and he 
 has never seen him, you know." 
 
 " And I have seen him so often. Don't 
 you think that will be a Httle embarrassing 
 for me .^" inquired Litton comically. 
 
 " No ; because he thoroughly understands 
 your position, I have written to dear Lotty 
 to explain it all from beginning to end. It 
 was for her husband's sake and hers, not
 
 272 Walters Word. 
 
 your own, that you were silent about your 
 previous acquaintance with him ?" 
 
 " That is true. But I feel not a little 
 compunction in concealing so much from 
 your father. He is so kind and hospitable 
 to me ; and I feel as though I had gained 
 his goodwill by false pretences." 
 
 "I quite understand your feelings, Mr. 
 Litton ; but I really do not see how matters 
 could have been managed otherwise. I am 
 sure if he had known that you had been 
 acquainted with my sister, and especially 
 your share in her elopement (for such he 
 considers it), he would not have been so 
 moved by your picture ; indeed, he might 
 very possibly have believed it to be a con- 
 certed plan between you and her husband ; 
 and you know it is not as if she had really 
 sat to you. The likeness, if not absolutely 
 accidental, was not designed ; you had never 
 even seen her as you have represented her." 
 
 " That may be all very true, but I am far 
 from satisfied with my own conduct. Don't 
 you think, Miss Lilian, that now, when all 
 has turned out so well, it would be better 
 to make a clean breast of it and tell your 
 father ?"
 
 The Debt is Paid, 273 
 
 " Oh,prai/ don't, Mr. Litton," she pleaded. 
 *' You don't know how large a share you 
 have had — even papa admitted it just now — 
 in this happy reconciliation. Without you — 
 that is, without your help, unintentional, 
 but yet to which I am sure Lotty has been 
 so welcome — all this would never have been 
 brought about. Mrs. Sheldon's letter of 
 itself would have done nothing, had not 
 papa been already as it were prepared for 
 it ; and remember, it has all been done for 
 my dear father's good, for his happiness. 
 He is not like the same man since his heart 
 has been softened towards Lotty. Oh, 
 please don't let us run any risk." 
 
 " It shall be as you wish," sighed Walter, 
 *' and still, as they say in the melodramas, ' I 
 will dissemble.' After all, it is only my own 
 character for straightforwardness, not yours, 
 I am glad to think, that is in danger ; only 
 when the truth does come out, and your 
 father turns me out of his house as an im- 
 postor, I hope you will say a good word for 
 me. Miss Lilian." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed I will, Mr. Litton. But 
 as for turning you out of the house, that is 
 nonsense. In fact, what necessity is there 
 
 VOL, J. 18
 
 274 Walters Word. 
 
 for the truth, as you call it — ^that is, for the 
 facts of a case which you have never been 
 asked to speak about — coming out at all? 
 It is very much more to Captain Selwyn's 
 interest than to yours that you should be 
 considered a stranger to him. Oh, Mr. 
 Litton," she continued, suddenly bursting 
 into tears, " I am afraid you are thinking 
 hardly of me. I do not love deceit ; I hate 
 it : I hate myself for counselling you to hide 
 the truth ; it is only that of the two evils — 
 the deceiving my father for his own good ; 
 and the telling him all, with the dreadful 
 risk of his forgiveness to Lotty being can- 
 celled — I honestly believe that I am choosing 
 the less." 
 
 " I quite understand you, dear Miss 
 Lilian," answered Walter earnestly, and his 
 voice was low and soft as her own as he 
 spoke the words ; " I quite understand ; nor 
 have I for a moment imputed to you any 
 other motive save that which has actuated 
 you, and which — whether it be wise or not — 
 seems to me to do you nothing but honour. 
 My only desire is to serve you and yours, 
 and all that you wish shall be done in your 
 own way."
 
 Tlie Debt is Paid. 275 
 
 Here he lield out his hand, and she put 
 hers in his, and pressed it thankfully. It 
 was only as it were in ratification of their 
 little compact ; but at the touch of that 
 small palm Walter's pulses began to throb 
 in a fashion which — if we did not know how 
 very sensible a young man he was, and with 
 what admirable arguments he had steeled 
 himself against the indulgence of futile 
 hopes — was almost like the spring-time of 
 Love itself 
 
 She did well to be grateful to him, for he 
 was doing for her and one other what he 
 would have done for no one else. Conceal- 
 ment of any kind, and far more deception, 
 was abhorrent to Walter. He had reproached 
 himself all along for the part he had been 
 playing at Willowbank in relation to his 
 host, notwithstanding all these arguments 
 which Lilian had urged in its favour, and 
 which he had already applied to the case in 
 his own mind ; but he had resolved, when 
 the reconciliation between Lotty and her 
 father should have been accomplished, that 
 he would tell all to him, and relieve himself 
 at any cost from this irksome bur 1 en. And 
 now he had been persuaded to carry it still 
 
 18—2
 
 276 Walter's Word. 
 
 longer in spite of a certain penalty that 
 would be very grievous to him, more 
 grievous indeed than he dared to own, but 
 which he now foresaw would sooner or 
 later be the consequence of his so doing. 
 In one respect he thought he judged the 
 old merchant's character more accurately 
 than his own daughter ; and he did verily 
 believe that the day on which Christopher 
 Brown discovered himself to have been 
 deceived would be the last he (Litton) would 
 ever pass at Willowbank. Such a sentence 
 of exile would be very bitter to him (more 
 bitter, as I have said, than he would have 
 liked to confess even to himself), and yet he 
 had promised to risk its infliction ; and 
 there was one thing certain — he would keep 
 his word. Walter Litton was, upon the 
 whole, an impulsive man ; his impulses were 
 good, which was fortunate, since he acted 
 on them rather than on fixed convictions. 
 Of the possession of the thing called " prin- 
 ciple," in connexion with any well-defined 
 system of religion or philosophy, he could 
 not boast : he did what was right — such as 
 an act of generosity, for instance — because 
 it seemed to him right at the moment. He
 
 The Debt is Paid, 27 
 
 never went home and looked at the matter 
 this way and that, and upon the whole 
 decided that it was " contrary to principle/' 
 and therefore didn't do it. I have no doubt 
 that would have been the right way for 
 him to go to work ; but yet it is certain 
 that most such proceedings in our mental 
 parliament do end in the "Noes" having it; 
 and I have always noticed that stingy 
 persons are possessed of very high prin- 
 ciples indeed. But though he was so 
 deficient in this respect, there was one 
 thing to which Walter held wii^h the 
 tenacity of a martyr to his faith — and that 
 was, his word. He might be wrong m 
 doing so — he sometimes was, just as the 
 martyr is wrong — but he stuck to it all the 
 same. He was wrong, as I venture to 
 think, in this particular case ; but he had 
 given his word to Lilian, and therefore she 
 did well to be grateful, for it was irre- 
 fragable. Have you noticed, reader, what 
 kind of person it is — you may not have 
 done so, for the genus is very rare — whose 
 word is thus to be depended upon ? It is 
 generally a woman, or, if not a woman, a 
 man of feminine type ; one whose physique,
 
 278 Walter's Word, 
 
 whose voice, whose manner, do not impress 
 one very forcibly, or give one much assurance 
 of power — delicate-handed, soft- voiced crea- 
 tures, in whom such resolution is quite an 
 unexpected trait, and which we resent the 
 more in them from that very circumstance. 
 " Obstinate as a mule," we call such a man, 
 who opposes himself to our wishes, just 
 because he has promised to do this or that ; 
 or, if it be not a man, " A self-willed little 
 slut." 
 
 Walter did not stay on at Willowbank 
 till dinner-time on this occasion. His host 
 dropped no word as before of there being no 
 necessity for evening dress ; the coming of 
 Sir Eeginald Selwyn, Baronet of the United 
 Kingdom (which he was not, by-the-bye, but 
 his father-in-law had picked the phrase up 
 and found it pleasant, like a sweet morsel 
 rolled under the tongue), and of Her Lady- 
 ship, his wife, was a circumstance that 
 seemed to Mr. Christopher Brown impera- 
 tive of evening dress ; so Walter went 
 home to attire himself. He found a letter 
 awaiting his arrival, enclosing a cheque for 
 fifty pounds, and a few lines from the 
 captain : —
 
 The Debt is Paid. 279 
 
 " My dear Litton, — I enclose the pair 
 of ponies, for which accept my best thanks. 
 You are of course aware that the old gentle- 
 man has come round, that it is a case of 
 ' Bless you, my children,' and ' Welcome 
 home/ This all comes, as I told you it 
 would, of my having become a Baronet. 
 Only an Irish one, it is true ; but then, you 
 know, with some people, even ' Lord Bally- 
 raggum is better than no lord at all.' My 
 wife desires her kind regards. 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " Eeginald Selwyn. 
 
 "P.S. — Think of your having struck up an 
 acquaintance upon your own account with 
 my new papa ! How small the world is, 
 after aU 1" 
 
 Walter read this missive more than once, 
 and with much more attention than its con- 
 tents would have seemed to deserve. It 
 was not a gracious letter, nor, though its 
 style was so familiar, did it smack much of 
 ancient friendship. If the captain kn w 
 that his friend was intimate at Willowbank, 
 .he must surely also know how that intimacy
 
 280 Waller's Word. 
 
 had come about ; and therefore must be 
 aware that the reconcihation was by no 
 means solely due to his fire-new title. 
 Walter was not a man to look for "a 
 return" for any good service, even in the 
 shape of an expression of gratitude, but 
 this total ignoring of what he had done in 
 the matter was not quite pleasant. The 
 phrase, " struck up an acquaintance," and 
 especially tlie words which followed it, " on 
 your own account," seemed indeed almost 
 offensive. He studied the epistle thus 
 carefully, in order to learn from it, if 
 possible, whether little Eed Eiding-hood had 
 told Selwyn from whose lips she had 
 received the information that had dis- 
 appointed his designs. Upon the whole, 
 Walter thought that she had told him, or if 
 not, that he had guessed the truth. There 
 was a *' stand-at-gaard" air about the letter, 
 which was not in his friend's usual style, 
 though it was not absolutely hostile. He 
 was less indifferent to this than he would 
 have been at the time he bade Nellie use 
 his name ; not only because time had 
 mitigated his wrath against the captain, but 
 because he did not wish to have an enemy
 
 The Debt is Paid. 
 
 281 
 
 at Willowbank. He deemed it probable, as 
 I have said, that sooner or later he should 
 be banished thence, but he wished to put off 
 that banishment as long as possible. What 
 seemed very strange, even to himself, was 
 that this was the first consideration that 
 occurred to him ; and not the reflection that 
 within an hour or so he was about to meet 
 Lotty for the first time since her marriage, 
 and in her father ^s house.
 
 CHAPTEE XYII. 
 
 SIR REGINALD PROGRESSES. 
 
 HEEE is many a dinner-party that 
 is not a party of pleasure, although 
 our inviter may have designed it 
 to be so in all good faith. It is not plea- 
 sant, for example, to be asked to meet a 
 creditor, who is rarely at the same time 
 one's friend ; nor a man to whom, from any 
 cause, it is necessary to make oneself 
 civil, if one is not inclined to be so ; nor 
 some very great personage indeed, the satis- 
 faction of meeting whom consists solely, if 
 there be any, in the being able to boast of 
 . it afterwards ; nor one's old love as a newly 
 married woman ; nor one's old friend, with 
 whom there is a feeling of estrangement. 
 Perhaps these last two are the most un- 
 pleasant to meet of all, and they were both
 
 Sir Reginald Progresses. 283 
 
 awaiting Walter Litton that evening. He 
 was to meet them also in the presence of a 
 host who was unconscious of his acquain- 
 tance with them, and from whom he had 
 designedly concealed that circumstance. 
 He would have to act a part, and one that 
 he felt he was ill adapted to fill, throughout 
 that evening, and perhaps for many evenings 
 to come. It seemed to him that this was 
 infringing the laws of hospitality, and soiling 
 by ignoble use that name of gentleman of 
 which he had hitherto thought himself 
 worthy. 
 
 Without having any exaggerated opinion 
 of himself, Walter had up to this time found 
 himself perfectly at ease in any society to 
 which he had been admitted, and had 
 imagined, and with reason, that so it would 
 have been in all cases ; he was not dazzled 
 by rank and show, though it was intuition 
 rather than experience which had convinced 
 him of their emptiness ; his very simplicity 
 made him natural in his manners ; and 
 natural manners — when the nature is good 
 — are the best in the world. But on this 
 occasion, while he attired himself for that 
 little party at Willowbank, he felt like a
 
 284 Walter's Word. 
 
 girl who is going to her first ball — flurried, 
 and nervous, and excited, and rehearsing to 
 himself those little speeches which are so 
 certain not to be remembered when the 
 time comes for their due delivery. His 
 difiiculty, like hers, was that he could not 
 foresee what others would say to him ; he 
 did not know what attitude the captain 
 might adopt towards him, nor how far 
 either he or Lotty would assist him in 
 feigning a mutual ignorance of one another. 
 So embarrassing was his dilemma that he 
 actually found himself considering whether 
 it would be better for him to arrive late or 
 early at Willowbank ; in the end he 
 determined on going early, since he could 
 then have no surprise sprung on him by the 
 gallant captain — of whom he had suddenly 
 grown unaccountably suspicious — in the 
 way of judgment being passed against him 
 by default. It would be clearly a disadvan- 
 tage to him to enter the drawing-room 
 without knowing what had passed at the 
 first meeting of Sir Eeginald with his 
 " papa." This plan turned out even better 
 than he had anticipated, for his cab drew 
 up at the front door at the same moment
 
 Sir Reginald Progresses, 285 
 
 as the very respectable brougham which 
 conveyed the baronet and his bride, and the 
 three met in the hall. Their mutual greet- 
 ing was sufficiently guarded not to excite 
 suspicion in the servants, yet warm enough 
 to establish an understanding between them- 
 selves ; and they entered the drawing-room 
 together, like guests who have already made 
 one another's acquaintance, and who need no 
 further introduction. That was the ordeal 
 indeed from which Walter had shrunk from 
 most of all — the moment when his host 
 should say : " Mr. Litton — my daughter," 
 or " Mr. Litton — Sir Eeginald/' because it 
 would necessitate an overt act of hypocrisy 
 as it were on his part, whereas up till then 
 he had only deceived by his silence. This 
 unpleasantness was now altogether avoided, 
 partly by the circumstance I have men- 
 tioned, and partly because the position was 
 too grave and peculiar to admit of mere 
 conventional observances. The old merchant 
 was standing stiffly by the fireplace when 
 the three guests were announced ; but the 
 sight of his daughter was too much for the 
 dignity he strove to maintain, and he 
 stepped quickly forward and embraced her
 
 286 Walter's Word. 
 
 tenderly; then he offered his hand to her 
 husband with a frank " I am glad to see 
 you, Sir Eeginald/' and almost immediately 
 afterwards to Walter himself. The cere- 
 mony of reconciliation was, in fact, made as 
 short as possible ; but for all that, it was 
 plain that it was not without its effect upon 
 the host, who, disinclined, or perhaps unable, 
 to speak more, gazed with tears in his eyes 
 at his two daughters as they rushed into each 
 other's arms. It was only natural there- 
 fore, and in accordance with good taste, that 
 Selwyn and Litton should affect to ignore 
 his emotion, and enter into conversation 
 together. 
 
 " If he asks you whether you have ever 
 met ' Sir Eeginald ' before, Litton, you can 
 say no, with truth," whispered the captain 
 hastily; "and the same holds good with 
 regard to her ladyship yonder." This 
 specious method of evading the difficulty had 
 certainly not occurred to Walter, and did 
 not recommend itself to him now, but 
 nevertheless he replied : " All right, old 
 fellow; I'll do my best." And then they 
 fell to talking aloud upon indifferent topics. 
 While they did so Walter could scarcely
 
 Sir Reginald Progresses. 287 
 
 keep his eyes off Lotty. Cloaked and 
 hooded as she had been on her arrival, he 
 had had no time to observe her fully ; but 
 now, in the brilliantly-lit drawing-room, he 
 noticed with pain how cruelly care had 
 dealt with her brightness and 'beauty ; so 
 cruelly indeed that, knowing what he did, 
 he could not but suspect that not only care, 
 but neglect and unkindness, must have had 
 their share in effecting such a change. Her 
 face had lost its rounded lines, its delicate 
 tints, and had become sharp and wan ; her 
 eyes were red, which could scarcely have 
 been accounted for by the tears that she was 
 weeping then ; her trembling lips smiled 
 indeed, but as though smiles were strangers 
 to them ; nay, the burden of sorrow seemed 
 to have weighed upon her very frame, for 
 her carriage had lost all the grace of girl- 
 hood. 
 
 He had feared for her some fate of this 
 sort, and under the apprehension of it had 
 portrayed her, as we know, from imagina- 
 tion ; but so far had the actual change out- 
 stripped his fears, that, forgetting for the 
 moment that the old man, like himself, had 
 made a picture of her in his mind more con-
 
 288 Walter's Word. 
 
 sonant witli the portrait than with the 
 original, he almost marvelled how his picture 
 could have recalled her to her father's re- 
 membrance. It was evident that the old 
 merchant perceived this change himself, for 
 he regarded Lotty with an expression of 
 wistful tenderness that he took no pains to 
 conceal ; but in all probability he set it 
 down solely to her long exile from home, 
 and loved her, we may be sure, no less that 
 absence from his arms and roof had wrought 
 such woe with her. He did not even 
 apologize to Walter, when, upon dinner 
 being announced, he offered his own arm to 
 Lotty, and Selwyn of course taking Lilian, 
 the young painter was left to bring up the 
 rear of the little party alone. Except, how- 
 ever, in these tacit evidences of his affection 
 and forgiveness, the host seemed resolved in 
 no way to allude to the cause that had led 
 to the dismemberment of his family ; and 
 his guests were only too glad to maintain a 
 similar silence upon that topic. 
 
 The conversation at first was somewhat 
 scanty and constrained, but never so much 
 so as to become embarrassing ; and as the 
 good wine circulated which had been so long
 
 Sir Rf^ginald Progresses. 289 
 
 a stranger to the captain's palate, it moved 
 his always fluent tongue to animated talk. 
 His native sagacity taught him to avoid 
 jesting under what he afterwards described 
 as those " rather ticklish" circumstances, 
 and even to sink that tone of careless 
 frivolity which was habitual to him ; but 
 he narrated incidents of his military career 
 in a cheerful and entertaining style. In- 
 stinct told hira that the army was not a 
 profession that was popular with his new- 
 found father-in-law, and therefore he con- 
 fined himself to such anecdotes as would be 
 most likely to interest an outsider. Had he 
 been but a mere captain in the Heavies, 
 he might not have succeeded so easily in 
 gaining Mr. Brown's attention ; but that 
 gentleman's ear, like those of many others 
 of his class, was particularly formed to re- 
 ceive the narrations of persons of qualitv ; 
 and though he made some considerable re- 
 sistance to the voice of the charmer, in the 
 way of interruptions and objections — as if 
 in protest against injured fathers-in-law 
 being placed at once on too familiar a 
 footing — he, in the end, accorded him a 
 sufficiently gracious hearing. The story 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 Walter's Word. 
 
 that pleased him most, and the one which 
 the cunning captain had kept in reserve with 
 that very object for after dinner, was the 
 one known in military circles as "the tale of 
 the Golden Lions," a sort of t3^pical narra- 
 tive which shifts its date to suit the times, 
 and which, since the captain's day, has been 
 permanently attached to the taking of the 
 Chinese emperor's Summer Palace : but it 
 does, in fact, pertain to an earlier epoch of 
 British warfare — namely, that of the first 
 Chinese war, in which the captain's colonel 
 was engaged, and who (unless we are so 
 bold as to disbelieve a baronet) told it to him 
 with his own lips. 
 
 " It was about that opium business, as 
 you doubtless remember, sir," said the 
 captain, addressing himself to his host, 
 "that the war was begun whicli ended in 
 the opening of the ports." 
 
 " 1 remember it well. Sir Eeginald," 
 observed Mr. Brown. " I was stopped on 
 my way to business, for the first time in my 
 life, from mere curiosity to see the waggons 
 that brought home the Chinese indemnity 
 pass along the street. There were twenty- 
 one million of silver dollars — twenty- one
 
 Sir Beginald Progresses. 291 
 
 million," repeated the old gentleman, smack- 
 ing his lips, for the mention of a large sum 
 of money was always music to him. 
 
 "That was the precise sum," said the 
 captain deferentially ; " though I should 
 not have ventured to state it from my own 
 recollection." 
 
 " Ay, but I don't forget such things," 
 said the other, much pleased to find his own 
 memory so complimented. " It was the 
 only war in which this country has been 
 engaged through which we ever reaped a 
 pecuniary advantage ; that is one of the 
 reasons why I am a peace-at-any-price man, 
 and am not ashamed to own it, Sir 
 Eeginald." 
 
 It was probable that the captain's opinion 
 of peace-at-any-price men was not a very 
 high one, but you would never have supposed 
 so, had you seen his polite and almost 
 assenting bow. 
 
 " Well, I was about to observe, sir, that 
 large as that indemnity was, my present 
 colonel — Markham — then a lieutenant in a 
 foot regiment, had it once within his power 
 (had he but known it) to have returned 
 home with even a larger sum to his own
 
 292 Walters Word. 
 
 cheek — I mean, at his private account at his 
 banker's," added the captain hurriedly. 
 His speech was apt to be garnished by 
 slang terms ; and though, as he had proved, 
 he could put a restraint upon himself in all 
 important matters, these little verbal eccen- 
 tricities would occasionally escape him. 
 " It was just before the preliminaries of 
 peace were signed, and while the troops 
 were before Canton- " 
 
 " It was Nankin, if it was anywhere," 
 observed Mr. Brown severely, for that 
 notion of " one's own cheek," as being 
 synonymous with one's banker's account, 
 had savoured to him of something like 
 profanity. 
 
 " I daresay you are right, sir ; but at all 
 events Markham himself, with a company 
 or so of his regiment, found themselves 
 separated from the main body of the army ; 
 they were on a foraging expedition, or more 
 likely a marauding one, for Markham's cap- 
 tain had always an eye for ' loot,' and had 
 ventured much farther into the interior of 
 the country than he had any authority for 
 doing. They knew that the war was at its 
 close, you see, and that if anything valuable
 
 Sir Beginald Progresses. 293 
 
 was to be got it was to be picked up at 
 once." 
 
 " Upon my life, Sir Eeginald," said the 
 old merchant, " your tale, so far as it is 
 gone, is not very complimentary to your 
 cloth." 
 
 " Well, you see, there are soldiers and 
 soldiers : with some, all is fair in love and 
 war — that is, in war." 
 
 The slip was terrible. Most men in the 
 speaker's position would have thought it 
 irreparable, and given up their anecdote 
 altogether ; but the captain was made of 
 cooler stuff. 
 
 " Of course it's wi'ong," he continued ; 
 " but there will be soldiers of fortune 
 as long as the world lasts, like Major 
 Dalgetty." 
 
 " Is he in your regiment also ?" inquired 
 Mr. Brown, with severit3^ 
 
 "0 no, sir; I merely instanced him as 
 the sort of man I am talking about. They 
 are often good soldiers, and serve the State 
 as well as themselves, we must remember. 
 Look at Clive, for example, and — and — oh, 
 a lot of fellows." 
 
 It was now Mr. Brown's turn to bow,
 
 294 Walter's JFord, 
 
 which lie did in very qualified adhesion to 
 these sentiments. 
 
 "Well, Bob Markham and the rest 
 marched a good way up the country — the 
 people fleeing before them — till they reached 
 a certain imperial residence of which they 
 were in search. It was very splendidly 
 furnished, and of course they sacked it. 
 The walls of one room were lined with 
 silver plates of half an inch thick — with the 
 proceeds of some of which, by-the-bye, Bob 
 afterwards purchased his company. There 
 had been hopes of jewels, I believe; but 
 these had been removed, in anticipation of 
 their visit ; but altogether it was a great 
 haul, and very glad they were to get back 
 to camp with it — those, that is, that 
 managed to do so, for they were cut off by 
 the imperial troops, and had to fight their 
 way through them. But the curious thing 
 was that the Chinese themselves could 
 never be persuaded that our men had 
 reached the palace. They show^ed their 
 silver plates ; but those carried no convic- 
 tion. ' Such splendours,' they said, ' were 
 to be found in the house of many a rich 
 mandarin. Had you really been to Bong-
 
 Sir Beginald Progresses. 295 
 
 gata-boo (or whatever its name was), you 
 would certainly have brought back its 
 golden lions.' '' 
 
 " ' What golden lions ?' " asked Markbam, 
 rather irritably, for he did not relish not 
 being believed about sucb a matter, for the 
 expedition had been a very smart thing. 
 
 " ' Why, the lions that guard the gates ; 
 you must have passed between them, if you 
 ever got inside/ Then he remembered 
 that upon each pillar was a lion, in brass, 
 as they had all supposed, about eight feet 
 high, which some of the soldiers had pricked 
 with their bayonets. 
 
 " ' Well, what about them ?' " he asked. 
 'I saw the lions, of course.' 
 
 '' ' Only, that they are of solid gold, and 
 the richest prizes in all China,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 " Perhaps he could never have got back 
 alive with them ; he always protests that 
 he could not; but he and his men had 
 beasts of burden with them, and other 
 means of carriage ; and he has often told 
 me in confidence that it could have been 
 done, had it ever entered into his mind that 
 the images were of the precious metal.
 
 296 Walters Word. 
 
 Then he tears his hair (what little is left of 
 it), and proclaims himself the unluckiest 
 dog alive, since he is only a colonel of 
 Heavies, when he might, but for the merest 
 chance, have been a millionaire, Mr. Brown, 
 like yourself." 
 
 This last shot was a bold one, for it 
 inspired no little risk to the shooter, but, 
 fortunately for the captain, it went home. 
 The story, with its flavour of gold about it, 
 had greatly recommended itself to the old 
 merchant ; and this concluding hint at his 
 own wealth, so far from making him sus- 
 picious of the captain's motives, was received 
 with uncommon favour. 
 
 " Well, well ; I don't know about being a 
 millionaire. Sir Reginald," answered he 
 complacently ; '' but I have reaped the usual 
 reward of much frugality and toil. If you 
 wont take any more wine, young gentleman, 
 we will join the ladies." 
 
 END OF VOL. I.