L I B RARY 
 
 OF THt 
 
 UN IVLRSltY 
 
 or ILL! NOIS 
 
 823 
 
 P883n 
 
 v.l
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/nadinestudyofwom01prae
 
 NADINE 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 N A D I N E 
 
 %k <^tubg d a IScrmam 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. CAMPBELL PRAED, 
 
 AUTHOE OF "policy AND PASSIOK," " AN AUSTRALIAN HEROINE," ETC. 
 
 ' Who can say.' Thus far, no farther,' to the tide of his own nature ? 
 
 AVho can mould the sjiirit's fashion to the counsel of liis will? 
 Square his being by enactment — shape his soul to legislature — 
 
 Be himself his law of living, his own art of good and ill ? " 
 
 J. BruHlon Stephens. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES.— VOL. L " 
 
 CHAPMATnT & HALL, Limited, 
 11, HENRIETTA. STREET, CO VENT GARDEN. 
 
 1882. 
 
 [All Rights reserved.]
 
 "^1 It n n n n : 
 
 CLAY AXD TAYLOR, PRINTERS
 
 8^^ 
 
 V. X 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 PACE 
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR ... 1 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? ... ... 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE ... ... 29 
 
 /^ BOOK 11. 
 
 ^ CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA ... ... 48 
 
 ^ CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LOVER A LA MODE ... ... ... ... G8
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I J I. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS ... ... ... 85 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BEVIS WINS ... ... ... ... ... Ill 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BORDER-LA.ND OF THE INVISIBLE .;. 134 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PH.\NTOM IN THE CORRIDpR ... ... 151 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED ... ... ... 163 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED ... ... ... ... 185
 
 / 
 
 N AD I N E 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 EXTEACT FROM A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR. 
 
 " A HARD frost — the most severe weatlier 
 which we have known for years — has set the 
 world sneezing, has broken up the hunting 
 coteries, has filled the clubs with aimless 
 loungers, has given an impetus to the sale of 
 stalls at the theatres, increased the circulation 
 of novels from Mudie's, and — direst of results, 
 as regards the comfort and good-temper of 
 a quiet, studious recluse like myself — has 
 covered with solid ice the lake at the bottom 
 
 ^ 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NADINE. 
 
 of my lawn, and has turned loose upon my 
 borders a tribe of Goths and Vandals, whose 
 shrieks of merriment pierce my unhappy ears 
 even through stone walls and closed windows, 
 and cause me to anticipate mournfully the 
 approaching horrors of luncheon and five 
 o'clock tea. 
 
 "As I sit growling in my snuggery — the 
 only spot in* the house sacred from the inroads 
 of these barbarians — I 'find myself reflectiDg 
 with the poet that art is long and time is 
 fleeting, and am tempted to envy you the 
 limpid skies and heavenly seas of the sunny 
 south — the orange gardens and ilex groves 
 in which you are doubtless enjoying delicious 
 days of idleness at Pegli, and the near vicinity 
 of the picture-galleries, the monuments, and 
 glittering, if decayed, magnificence of Genoa.
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR. 3 
 
 I am tempted also, at the risk of provoking 
 your gentle raillery, to inflict upon you one 
 of my long letters, wtiicli you have been 
 pleased to compare variously with the ring 
 of cracked china, the quaint, precise har- 
 monies of the early Italian composers, and 
 the ponderous if polished productions of 
 the last century essayists. But pardon me 
 for remarking that I prefer incurring the 
 imputation of Johnsonian pomposity to that 
 of indulging in the slipshod English and 
 slangy phraseology which marks the epis- 
 tolary style of the ' young bloods ' of the 
 present age. 
 
 " While on the subject of poets, I am led 
 to that particular one who has in reality 
 inspired this letter. You will recollect — But 
 
 no ; I had forgotten that I was addressing 
 
 £ 2
 
 NADINE. 
 
 you across a chasm of three decades. The 
 name of Harold Calderwood will, I fear, con- 
 vey to your mind no more distinct image than 
 that of several neat duodecimo volumes of 
 airy verse, which have probably since your 
 childhood reposed undisturbed in their 
 allotted places upon the shelves in your 
 father's library. They and their author were 
 the fashion of their day, but the writer has 
 lived longer than his wprks. With me the 
 poet, gallant, wit, raconteur, — a star which 
 had attained its meridian while I was still 
 a boy, and which has now sunk completely 
 below the literary and social horizon, — has 
 remained always a bright and invigorating 
 memory. 
 
 " Last week, while lounging about London, 
 I found myself in the boudoir of our charm-
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR. 5 
 
 ing friend the Transatlantic Hypatia, whose 
 kindness of heart, as you are aware, is only 
 equalled by her passion for the society of 
 septua- and octogenarian celebrities. Our 
 tUe-a-Ute was cut short by the announcement 
 of the carriage. 
 
 "'Now/ said she, 'I will reward you for 
 having made yourself so agreeable by taking 
 you with me to call upon the cleverest and 
 most fascinating man in the. world.' 
 
 " In faint protest I represented the inex- 
 pediency of placing my feeble flame in juxta- 
 position with the rays of this luminary. 
 
 *' * There's something in that/ said Hypatia. 
 ' I like modesty. But I guess that Mr. Cal- 
 derwood's brilliancy is a reflection from the 
 past, and in a short time there'll be nothing 
 left of his light. If he could leap back forty
 
 NADINE, 
 
 years and you twenty, you might have cause 
 for jealousy. As it is, he is like many of 
 your British institutions — a magnificent ruin ; 
 and I advise you strongly, if you are fortun- 
 ate enough to please him, to cultivate his ac- 
 quaintance, for he is fast crumbling to decay. 
 He has brought his chef with him from Rome, 
 and I can assure you, on the authority of 
 my male friends, that no one in Europe gives 
 more delicately composed dinners, or tells 
 a naughty story with greater piquancy. Ah ! 
 he knows his world — as well he may do 
 with the experience of nearly eighty years to 
 teach him wisdom ! ' 
 
 " ' Madam, ^ said I with a low bow, ' wis- 
 dom of that kind is not confined to octo- 
 genarians.' 
 
 " ' But J am a philosopher,' murmured she.
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR. / 
 
 '^I found my poet wliat she had described 
 him — a magnificent rain, crippled by slow 
 paralysis of the limbs, but not of the brain ; 
 attenuated, worn, yet with still inexhaustible 
 vitality beaming from his eyes and flowing 
 with his talk — a stream witty, aphoristic, epi- 
 grammatic, in which there seemed scarcely any 
 perceptible break. He recognized me — greeted 
 me with warmth ; and I accepted an invitation 
 to dine with him upon the following evening. 
 
 '' The party was a small one — Herbert the 
 dramatist, Knowles the metaphysician. Dr. 
 Weldon, whom you know by renown, our 
 host, and myself. 
 
 " We sat late. Calderwood's unflagging 
 vivacity seemed to inspire his guests. The 
 talk glided into literary and sociological 
 channels. Apropos of a remark made by
 
 8 NADINE. 
 
 Herbert upon the difficulty of selecting from 
 the incidents and combinations in real life 
 which present themselves as material to the 
 observation of an author^ such as^ without 
 shock to conventional purism, may be ex- 
 hibited upon the stage,, individual remini- 
 scences and experiences of the tragic and 
 sensational kind gathered thickly. Almost 
 each one present had some harrowing tale 
 to relate which had come under his personal 
 knowledge, and the improbabilities of reality 
 as compared with those of imagination were 
 freely discussed. 
 
 " Some melodramatic and morbidly exciting 
 situations were depicted by Dr. Weldon with 
 the graphic force of an eye-witness, and 
 their recital was followed by a remark of 
 Calderwood's.
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR. 9 
 
 '' ' I think tliat I can cap tliat narrative, 
 Doctor, interesting as it is. Herbert, I will 
 give you tlie materials for an emotional drama, 
 which at least possesses the merit of being 
 absolute fact. I can vouch for the truth of 
 what I am going to tell you ; but I must beg 
 that you will not exact chapter and verse of 
 my authority. The heroine of the romance 
 died several years ago. She was well known 
 in European courts, and though I fancy most 
 of you would be considerably astonished were 
 I to reveal her name, in relating some inci- 
 dents in her career, I am violating no con- 
 fidence, and running no risk of betrayals 
 injurious to any living person.-* 
 
 '^Calderwood then proceeded with his 
 story. As I know that fact and fiction are 
 to you equally fascinating, and that no gift
 
 lO NADINE. 
 
 could be more acceptable to you than the 
 skeleton of a plot, I send you this one. Ere 
 long I shall look for its appearance, clothed 
 in flesh, reanimated, and dressed after modern 
 taste ; but let me give you a word of advice. 
 Do not delay in the execution of your 
 projects. Herbert is deeply pondering the 
 solution of certain delicate and technical 
 difficulties, and is quoting the Greek 
 tragedy as a magnificent precedent for 
 realism upon the English stage. ■*' 
 
 5|C SjJ 5|C 5fC ?p 5JC
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER ? I I 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 
 
 " And so you think that I have changed 
 of late — since nay visit to the Dormers in 
 London. How ? " 
 
 The question was asked in a tone half arch, 
 half melancholy, by a handsome girl seated 
 before the pianoforte in a dim, old-fashioned, 
 country drawing-room, and was addressed to 
 a gentleman who, bending forward with his 
 ej^es fixed attentively upon her face, had been 
 speaking in a low tone under cover of the 
 music.
 
 12 NADINE. 
 
 Not that there was any need to drown their 
 voices. The only other occupant of the room^ 
 the girPs father_, leaned back in a deep arm- 
 chair, his fine profile outlined against the 
 sombre upholstery, his gouty hands folded 
 across each other, while he slept the sleep of 
 the aged. 
 
 It was nine in the evening. The curtains 
 were drawn, and a log blazed in the fire-place. 
 Wind howled without; the boughs of the 
 beech-trees creaked, and though it was late 
 in April, rainy sleet was driven against the 
 window-panes. Within, the harmoniously 
 tinted room adorned by vases of hot-house 
 flowers, the many traces of feminine taste, 
 the warm atmosphere scented with i^ot-pourrij 
 were grateful to the senses and suggestive of 
 all that is refined, tender, sympathetic.
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 1 3 
 
 Dr. Bramwell, so was named tlie gentleman 
 by the piano, fancied tliat he detected a ring 
 of emotion in Nadine Senguin^s voice. Her 
 tone seemed to challenge truth ; her whole 
 manner, he thought, was tinged by something 
 at once defiant and appealing, artificial and 
 yet deeply earnest. But he was in love_, and 
 to him Miss Senguin was a mystery as subtle 
 as it was sweet. 
 
 Not the kind of man to grapple with 
 mystery in the form of a beautiful woman. 
 Dr. Julian Bramwell, aged twenty- eight, in 
 appearance heavy - browed, contemplative- 
 looking; in face, square of conformation, and 
 rather plain than handsome; had dealt all 
 his life with the positive and knowable, and 
 though he possessed a fair share of idealism, 
 could not be said to have brought it under
 
 NADINE. 
 
 cultivation. It was not his tendency to put 
 out feelers in emotional directions, or to glide 
 gracefully over surface interests. Life was to 
 him a serious business ; his moods inclined to 
 pessimism, while his soul burned to alleviate 
 distress. He was talented and ambitious, and 
 cherished visions of scientific discovery, of 
 fame and — a secondary consideration — fortune. 
 He had a clear^ logical mind, the capacity for 
 conceiving and carrying out a fixed purpose, 
 and a strong faith in himself. This was fairly 
 justified. He could walk between narrow 
 lines, and if impulse ever prompted him to over- 
 step them, he had the power of self-restraint. 
 He believed himself to be a keen student 
 of human nature. Success in diagnosis had 
 thrown him into the error of over self-con- 
 fidence. He was mistaken in imagining that
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 1 5 
 
 he understood Nadine Senguin. For that, he 
 felt too deeply. Her bluslies, smiles^ transient 
 humours furnished him with food for deep 
 thought, and usually led him to conclusions 
 graver than they apparently warranted, and 
 most often erroneous. It is easier to read 
 character by physiognomy while counting the 
 beats of a patient's pulse, than to interpret 
 the manner of a woman who knows herself 
 beloved, while gazing into a pair of liquid 
 eyes, that melt imperceptibly from grey to 
 violet, and unconsciously magnetize the would- 
 be magnetizer. These self-same orbs were full 
 and soft, with deep lids, and strongly arched 
 brows which imparted to the countenance 
 an expression at once piquant and wistful. 
 The forehead was low and broad, the nose 
 straight and fine, the chin slightly pointed,
 
 1 6 NADINE. 
 
 too short for oval Englisli beauty; tlie lips 
 mobile — wlien smiling sweety but melancholy 
 in repose; the head sleek and small, with 
 dusky hair^ neither black nor brown, coiled on 
 the nape of a slender neck ; the complexion 
 was of a warm paleness, the whole colouring 
 nondescript, hues blending into each other 
 and producing an impression distinctly har- 
 monious ; while the face was relieved from the 
 faintest suggestion of insipidity by an almost 
 startling variety of expression. Miss Senguin^s 
 figure was slight, but tall and singularly sup- 
 ple. In her manner there was sufficient sad- 
 ness blended with vivacity to pique curiosity ; 
 her voice was low, and her speech, even when 
 she talked commonplace, had the peculiarity 
 of arousing interest and conjecture. 
 
 '* Well ! " she asked, ceasing in her playing
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 1/ 
 
 for a moinenfc and looking at him full. " In 
 what way have I changed ? " 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 " It is but natural that you should have 
 gained in grace, brilliancy, self-possession. 
 The consciousness of admiration must, I 
 should imagine, have this effect upon a woman 
 so young as you. But that is not what I 
 mean : the alteration is more subtle. It is 
 difficult to define what is indefinable. Your 
 manner was always variable ; now it is more 
 so than ever ; sometimes, indeed, I fancy that 
 you have a cause for trouble which is a secret 
 to the world. The thought grieves me deeply. 
 Yet underlying everything, there is a softness, 
 a tenderness which — " He paused for a 
 moment. " This makes me happy ; I hardly 
 know why. I think that I can express in one 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 1 8 NADINE. 
 
 word what I want to convey. You are more 
 Sj/mpafhujiie." 
 
 ^^ You find me so ? " 
 
 *' Is it presumptuous to answer — j^es ? '* 
 
 "No. I am in a strange humour. Yau 
 are right in calling me variable. I give you 
 free permission to say to me this evening 
 what you choose." 
 
 "Do you know, Miss Senguin, what that 
 permission implies ? ", 
 
 He spoke meaningly, and bending forward 
 tried to meet her eyes, while he lightly 
 touched her right hand_, which again drew 
 music from the keys of the piano. 
 
 She did not at once reply, then said slowly — 
 
 "Perhaps I can guess. But I warn you 
 that I am in a '^mood^ to-night, and not 
 responsible for my words or my manner. Do
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 1 9 
 
 not blame me, Dr. Bramwell, if you receive 
 false impressions. I don't wisli to give them, 
 but — tliis is the truth — I do not understand 
 myself." 
 
 " There cannot be any question of false 
 impressions," he said energetically. "If 
 you were less simple, less frank, you would 
 in all ways have more confidence in the 
 beauty of your own nature.^' 
 
 " Then I may feel that everything we say 
 to each other is ' without prejudice ' ? Do you 
 know that you produce in me an impulsive 
 reliance upon you which makes me wish to 
 judge of myself by your opinion of me ? ^' 
 
 " If that were the case,'' he answered 
 
 with repressed passion, " you would see 
 
 nothing in your own character but what is 
 
 noble and lovable." 
 
 c 2
 
 20 NADINE. 
 
 " Ah me ! It would be well if you could 
 put your spectacles upon the eyes of others. 
 Not that one would care to be examined 
 critically or even approvingly by everybody 
 in the world, but it is elevating to the 
 character to be thought better of than it 
 deserves. For one thing, if all persons be- 
 lieved one to be pure and good there would 
 be no possibility of being tempted. . . . You 
 doctors have a great many physical theories 
 about germs/^ she added in a tone of forced 
 gaiety. " Do you believe, morally speaking, 
 that the seeds of evil can lie latent in a 
 person's nature for years, and then be sud- 
 denly developed in a month — a da}^ — by some- 
 thing, some one, outside oneself, so that one's 
 very temperament is reversed, and one is borne 
 on a tide of longing towards what is evil ? . . .
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 21 
 
 And the strange thing is, that one is 
 almost persuaded it is not evil, but a 
 righteous murdering of instincts, which 
 seem to be the fruit of perhaps a false 
 idea of morality/' 
 
 She had begun lightly, but as she con- 
 cluded, her lips trembled, her voice grew 
 deeply earnest. 
 
 ^^ I wish that you would speak plainly," 
 exclaimed Dr. Bramwell, anxiously. '' What 
 do you mean ? ■'"' 
 
 " Only this. Do you think it possible that 
 a woman, say a girl like me, could become 
 suddenly depraved in mind ? '^ 
 
 '^Depraved! Nadine ! how can you use 
 such a word in connection with yourself — you 
 who are the embodiment of truth and purity ? 
 It is wrong of you to say such things ; I
 
 22 NADINE. 
 
 cannot bear to hear them, I will not discuss 
 such a possibility/^ 
 
 Miss Senguin's head drooped. She stopped 
 playing again_, and timidly touched his arm. 
 
 ^^ You see it is impossible foi- us^ in a mental 
 sense, to face each other fairly. We are too 
 different. I know that you haven't any faith 
 in angels or devils or anything else super- 
 natural. I have a strong one. I am morbidly 
 superstitious^ and I have a fancy that at 
 times one's good and evil genii have the power 
 of personifying themselves in particular indi- 
 viduals. Well, Dr. Bramwell, 1 am inclined to 
 think that you are my good genius at present. 
 When I am with you, morbid impulses and 
 wicked thoughts become unreal or grimly 
 laughable. My nature seems to find some- 
 thing which it needs_, in yours. There's not
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 23 
 
 the least element of personal attraction in 
 tliis feeling: : I almost wish tliere were. I am 
 very honest with you^ even at the risk of 
 your thinking me unwomanly. What does it 
 matter ? What does anything matter ? But 
 one goes through phases of experience in 
 which one feels the most intense need of help. 
 It is so with me now. Do not^ however, mis- 
 understand me. There is nothing definite that 
 I can confide to you. You can best help me 
 by taking no notice of my mood, by letting 
 me say what is passing through my mind, 
 without attaching too great importance to my 
 words. You say that I am variable. Think 
 that I am this evening what I shall not be to- 
 morrow, what I shall perhaps never be again. 
 I want a figurative handclasp. Sympathy — 
 the knowledge that some one whose judgment
 
 24 NADINE. 
 
 we respect cares for us, and expects good 
 from us, is, when we are tossed about and 
 troubled and uncertain of ourselves, the 
 greatest help . . . But — why should I speak ? 
 — Dr. Bramwell, do you thir.k, that I aro 
 looking well ? " 
 
 ^' Oh ! say what is in your mind ! No, you 
 do not look well now. When I came this 
 evening you seemed to me full '"f brightness, 
 but at this moment j^our eyes are heavy 
 and your face is almost haggard.''^ 
 
 ** That is not surprising. All last night I 
 lay awake. I do so during many nights. It 
 is wretched work : every sound jars my 
 nerves ; my head throbs, and the same weary 
 thoughts fly round and round in my brain. 
 I am afraid of opium : it makes me dream, 
 and dreams are the mockery of reality. I am
 
 PHYSICIAN, PEIEST, OR LOVER? 25 
 
 afraid of a great many things^ but I am most 
 of all afraid of myself." 
 
 '' Nadine/' cried Dr. Bramwell^ " you 
 bid me take no notice of your words; but 
 how is that possible ? All tliis is new to me. 
 You do not know liow you distress me. You 
 are unhappy^ and I yearn to comfort you, if 
 I might — if I dared. I beseech you to place 
 confidence in me. You have said already that 
 instinctively your nature turns for support to 
 mine. . Ah, you cannot realize how happy 
 those words have made me. But what I feel 
 is nothing. ... I only wish you to know 
 that all I ask is to serve you. I am con- 
 vinced that your mind is preyed upon by 
 some inward morbid exaggeration of outward 
 circumstance, which will cease to affect you 
 painfully when you can disburthen yourself
 
 26 NADINE. 
 
 of it to another. Tell me — Is your trouble 
 in any way connected with your visit to the 
 Dormers ? '' 
 
 Nadine bent involuntarily^ as it were_, 
 towards him, began to speak, then hesitated. 
 Anxiety showed itself in her eyes as their 
 searching, melancholy gaze met that of his; 
 doubt and irresolution were upon her parted 
 lips. A struggle was waging within her. . . . 
 Suddenly, the flicker of impulse died out of 
 her face and left it cold and still. He felt 
 intuitively that a look, a gesture, — on his part 
 unconscious, — had arrested speech on hers. 
 
 " Nadine ! " he exclaimed imploringly. 
 
 His voice seemed to recall her to herself. 
 She shook her head mournfully. 
 
 '' No,^' she murmured, not in answer to his 
 question^ but as if replying to one which had
 
 PHYSICIAN, PRIEST, OR LOVER? 2/ 
 
 presented itself to her own mind; then added^ 
 with what appeared to be an affectation of 
 indifference_, " I am going next week to stay 
 with the Dormers for the Chollerton races. I 
 hear that you also are to be there."" 
 
 " Nadine/^ cried Bramwell impetuously, 
 '^you are not true to yourself — or to me. How 
 can I convince you of my entire longing to 
 help you — how convey to you the devotion, 
 the worship that is within my heart ? My 
 deepest sympathy is yours — and more, far 
 more, if you will have it so. Speak to me. 
 Let me know what is grieving you. Some- 
 thing tells me that when we meet at Croxham 
 it will be too late, and the impulse to confide 
 in me will have passed away." 
 
 Nadine smiled with sad bitterness. 
 
 "You are rig-ht. When we meet at Crox-
 
 28 NADINE. 
 
 ham it maij he too late. . . . No. Do not urge 
 me farther. You cannot help me ; I will not 
 ask you to try. I need a priest more than a 
 doctor — if I could believe in the priest ! My 
 trouble lies in myself^ and is caused by my 
 own nature. Why should I struggle against 
 irresistible bent ? . . . . What you say is 
 true. My feelings are morbid. They are 
 unreal^ and must be dealt with as one deals 
 with phantoms. Let us talk no more of my 
 imaginary griefs : you would be the first to 
 attribute them to an over-excited condition 
 of the nervous system. Tell me something 
 of yourself/' 
 
 ^^ To speak of myself is to talk of yoii. My 
 life is bound up in yours. I have no hope 
 for the future apart from you. You know 
 this. . . . Nadine, you know that I love you."
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 29 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 
 
 Napine raised her hands with a shrinking 
 gesture. 
 
 "Do not tell me of this — not now." 
 
 " Yes, now/' cried Bramwell vehemently. 
 '^ I came this evening for no other purpose 
 and it is impossible, Nadine, that this can be 
 a surprise to you." 
 
 " Ah ! Have I the power of reading 
 thoughts ? . . . No. You deserve frankness. 
 I did suspect it. But I knew that it is 
 your metier to study character; and I might
 
 30 NADINE. 
 
 have supposed your interest in me to be 
 partly scientific. You are rather cold-blooded, 
 Dr. Bramwell.'* 
 
 " Am I cold-blooded ? How little you know 
 me!'' 
 
 He bent suddenly close to her, and his eyes 
 glowed upon hers. 
 
 ^'Do not awaken papa. He is sleeping 
 so quietly, dreaming his happy dreams of 
 old-world fables, inspired perhaps by a 
 new religion or a new mystical philosophy. 
 Who would not cast off all ties with the 
 present if they could — and live in the 
 past ? '' 
 
 "Nadine," said Dr. Bramwell, more gently, 
 *^ if you had reason for thinking me cold and 
 self-contained, it is that my position with 
 regard to your father, and the almost daily
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 3 1 
 
 contact with you, into which it brought me, 
 obliged me to place a strong guard upon my 
 feelings. A doctor is not on the same footing 
 as an ordinary acquaintance/' 
 
 ^^No; and it is partly upon that account 
 that I have talked to you so frankly, and 
 have come to lean upon jou.'^ 
 
 " It was a false position," replied Bramwell, 
 *'aud every time your clear eyes met mine I 
 felt it more keenly. Now I have put an end 
 to it, and I can speak. My dearest hope is 
 to win you for my wife. I know that I could 
 make you happy. I love you passionately. 
 In time my love would compel yours. I am 
 certain of this. You have admitted that there 
 is sympathy between our natures. In your 
 case, it would become something stronger; nay, 
 but for your maidenly reserve it might now
 
 NADINE. 
 
 be love. I speak in all reverence : you are 
 sacred to me ; but we are face to face now as 
 man and woman. I meant to speak to-nigbt. 
 I meant tbat we sbould stand fairly to each 
 otber. I do not wisb for any definite promise 
 from you. Of course tbere is disparity. I 
 would not ask you to sbare my lot unless I 
 bad sometbing better to offer you tban tbat 
 of a country doctor's wife. I bave given up 
 my practice bere and am going to London. 
 Tbrougb my writings I bave already gained 
 some sort of repute. I am ambitious^ and I 
 feel in me tlie elements of success. I will 
 succeed for tbe sake of winning you. In a 
 sbort time I sball not be asbamed to come to 
 you boldly. Now, I ask notbing, unless it be 
 a word, bidding me eitber bope or despair 
 utterly.''
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PEECIPICE. 33 
 
 Miss Sengain's only answer was a plaintive 
 chord that preluded a wistful melody. 
 
 " Do you know this ? '^ she asked. 
 
 "It is something of Schumann's, is it 
 not ? " he answered impatiently. 
 
 "Traumerei. Dreams/^ she said in a melan- 
 choly tone, " idle fancy ! But dreaming is 
 pleasant, even though we know that there 
 must be sorrowful awakening.^^ 
 
 A sense of blankness and desolation fell 
 w4th her words upon Dr. Bramwell. 
 
 " Are my hopes then only dreams ? ^' he 
 asked bitterly. "Must I go away despairing?" 
 
 "Do not either despair or hope," she 
 replied. " Wait. Leave me in peace for a 
 little while, till I see where fate means to 
 strand me.'^ 
 
 " Tell me,'' he said. " Is there any other 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 NADINE. 
 
 man whom you love, and who wishes to 
 marry you?^^ 
 
 She did not answer immediately, then said 
 with a forced laugh — 
 
 '' There is not any one in the world whom 
 I love — and who wishes to marry me/' 
 
 ^^ Then I am content/'' said Dr. Bramwell. 
 *' I see light in the future/'' 
 
 " Don't deceive yourself. Don't build plans 
 upon me. You know that I am a person of 
 moods. I am not to be depended upon. 
 There are two creatures within me fighting 
 against each other, and no one can say which 
 will conquer. It would be better if jo\i 
 believed me vain and heartless; better that 
 you should wean yourself from loving me. If 
 you will not, or cannot, you must accept the 
 consequences. If it is my fate to make, you
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 35 
 
 unhappy I too shall suffer; but at least I 
 shall have warned you/* 
 
 ^' You • talk as though it were possible to 
 choose whom one would or would not love. 
 It is happiness to me to think of you, even 
 though it be sadly ; and to try and wean 
 myself from you would be to tear away a 
 part of my being.'' 
 
 "Would you still find happiness in loving 
 me, though you knew that I could never be 
 yours ? " 
 
 " Do not bid me believe that. I cannot — 
 I will not. But even if it were so — yes.^' 
 
 " Then be happy/' said Nadine with a 
 
 bewitching smile. " But/' she added, " I 
 
 have a bargain to make with you — a selfish, 
 
 one-sided bargain. I will accept your love 
 
 and be grateful, and — yes, I will try to return 
 
 o 2
 
 36 NADINE. 
 
 it ; but it must be on condition that you do 
 not tell me of it, at least till — '^ 
 
 ''Till I am in a position to claim you for 
 my own/' interrupted Bramwell triumpliantly. 
 
 ''No^ that is taking things far too much 
 for granted. Say till — if such a day ever 
 comes — I confide in you freely. Dr. Bram- 
 well, I bid you think the worst of me that 
 you can. If I obeyed my better self I 
 would send you away and tell you to forget 
 me. Think of me as heartless and selfish, 
 as unwilling to lose your admiration, — if 
 you prefer the word, — your sympathy, or 
 what is more true, loth to deprive myself 
 of the good which I gain from your belief 
 in me. . . . Oh, I am sacrificing you to 
 my wandering impulses ! What shall I do ? 
 Tell me what to do.''
 
 ox THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. '^J 
 
 " To serve you at any cost would be no 
 sacrifice.'^ 
 
 He bent till his lips touched her hand. 
 She shivered slightly and drew it gently 
 away. Then compunction seized her, and 
 she allowed her fingers to rest for an instant 
 upon his, in a caress that she might have 
 bestowed upon a faithful dog. 
 
 ''^I think that you would be very loyal/' 
 she murmured — ^' more loyal than I deserve. 
 But at Croxham next month you will not let 
 any one suspect an understanding of this sort. 
 You must not single me out, or be aggrieved 
 if you see me monopolized by other men.'' 
 
 " I shall only be at Croxham for a few days. 
 I should not have accepted Mrs. Dormer's 
 invitation had it not been for the temptation 
 of meeting you there. Miss Senguin, your
 
 38 NADINE. 
 
 wishes shall be respected, and after to-night 
 my love shall be silent.^' 
 
 '' You are very good to me/' said Nadine 
 earnestly. ^^You have always been good to 
 me since that day when I thought papa was 
 dying, and you comforted me. . . . Life is 
 very difficult/' she went on in a dreamy tone. 
 "It seems a perpetual struggle of what ^is^ 
 against what * might have been.' Circum- 
 stance shapes not only our fate, but ourselves. 
 If some one or something were different then 
 we might be either better or worse. That is 
 what is so hard. A little earlier — a little 
 later — never at all. It is all a throw of the 
 die. . . . You look very mournful. Does 
 what I say distress you ? " 
 
 *^ It would give me the deepest pain/' 
 answered Dr. Bramwell gravely, '* were it not
 
 ox THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 39 
 
 that, in spite of your half-repulse, I still hope 
 one day to possess the key to your thoughts. 
 You are very complex. A few months ago I 
 thought that I understood you ; to-night, I 
 am further from doing so than if I had met 
 you for the first time yesterday." 
 
 "And does not that thought depress and 
 deter you ? " 
 
 '^ No ; for to me you are the noblest, truest 
 woman living, and I luill win your heart.'' 
 
 '^My heart! Oh, I am cruel, false — all 
 that is most base. I must say this ; it relieves 
 me. I have no healthy, emotional impulses. 
 I should make a bad wife, an indifferent 
 mother. And even in fighting against the 
 evil within me I am calculating, I am capable 
 of anything — capable even of marrying you 
 as a refuge from myself. . . . Don't look so
 
 40 NADINE. 
 
 horrified and bewildered/' she added in a 
 different tone. " You mustn't think that I 
 really mean all the wild things I say. It 
 amuses me; it is a safety-valve. I am very 
 wayward. I dare say that you find me per- 
 plexingj but you must consider how lonely I 
 am ; there's no one to whom I can open my 
 mind. I have only papa in the worlds and, 
 poor dear ! I would suffer anything rather 
 than that he should be worried by my whims 
 and vagaries. I always had a feeling, Dr. 
 Bramwell_, that you would in some way be 
 mixed up with my Hfe. Perhaps for that 
 reason I have talked to you so oddly and 
 impulsively. It would be foolish to take my 
 confessions too seriously. I had theories 
 about you. I felt a strong desire to verify 
 them ; but the worst of being interested in
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 4 1 
 
 people is tliat one is always wanting to make 
 experiments^ and to do or say something 
 utterly untrue, but wliicli, by means of their 
 interpretation of it, would throw a new light 
 upon their character. , . ,'' 
 
 At this moment a gentle movement in the 
 arm-chair announced that the sleeper had 
 returned to consciousness. Miss Senguin 
 plunged abruptly into a rather difficult con- 
 certo, by Handel, which lay open on the 
 music- desk. It was the signal for Dr. Bram- 
 well to rise, while Mr. Senguin straightened 
 himself and stirred his cold coffee, trying to 
 make believe that he had not been asleep. 
 
 '^ Your music is very pretty, Nadine. I 
 missed it in the evenings when you were 
 away, and should have felt lonely indeed if 
 this good doctor had not sometimes taken
 
 42 NADINE. 
 
 compassion on me. Not tliat I would for the 
 world keep you buried here. Young people 
 must have their chances of making^ the best 
 they can out of life. Go on playing, my love ; 
 and, Bramwell, what do you say if we have 
 our game of 4carU? '* 
 
 Dr. Bramwell acquiesced. The card-table 
 was set out, and presently both gentlemen 
 were seated at it, while Nadine continued 
 at the piano. As he shuffled the cards Mr. 
 Senguin^s eyes wandered towards his daughter 
 with a glance of admiration, and his head 
 nodded in time to the crisp, stately measure. 
 
 " How do you think she is looking ? " 
 he asked, but fortunately did not wait for 
 a reply. " Improved in appearance, eh ? 
 but her spirits seem to me a little variable. 
 Naturally so. London even in winter is a
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 43 
 
 more exciting place tlian Alston. I have been 
 reproaching myself, Doctor, for not sending 
 Nadine to town in the season. You should 
 have heard Mrs. Dorraer^s views upon the 
 subject ; she has offered to chaperon e her this 
 year. Hitherto I have selfishly thought only 
 of my own present comfort, and have not 
 considered her future ; but that must not go 
 on. I should like to see her well married 
 before I die. There ! I had almost forgotten 
 to mark the king. . . . Mrs. Dormer, oh yes, 
 she was over here yesterday with a sort of 
 distant connection, Colonel Halkett. He is 
 staying at Croxham. . . . Dear me ! how 
 many years that name carries me back. I 
 was his father^s fag at Eton, and we were 
 in the embassy together at St. Petersburg. 
 Regie Halkett was my best man. Of course
 
 44 NADINE. 
 
 you are aware that my wife was a Russian. 
 It sometimes strikes me that a certain 
 pecuHarity of temperament which you may 
 have observed in Nadine is inherited from 
 her mother. Time passes. Halkett married 
 some years afterwards, and this is his eldest 
 son — a handsome fellow in the Blues ; but 
 there is a queer story about his wife. She 
 went mad after the birth of their first child^ 
 and is in confinement, I' am told. A melan- 
 choly way of being handicapped; but it is 
 sa'd that he has his consolations. ... I win 
 the trick. You never proposed, so I mark 
 two. The Dormers have a large party on 
 the sixth for the Chollerton races. I hear 
 that you are to be there : your farewell, I 
 suppose, to your old friends. Nadine goes 
 next week, and I am left to the fate of the
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 45 
 
 old and infirm — solitude. However^ I don^t 
 p^rumble. And so your successor has arrived. 
 Bring him over soon and introduce liim ; 
 and, for Heaven's sake, Bramwell, go 
 thoroughly into my case with him. How 
 I shall exist when you leave us, I really 
 cannot imagine. The position is too terrible 
 to be contemplated." 
 
 Nadine abruptly ceased playing and ad- 
 vanced to the fireplace. Here she stood 
 without speaking, one arm resting upon the 
 oak mantleshelf, her forehead shaded by her 
 hand. 
 
 Shifting his position a few moments later, 
 Bramwell had an opportunity of observing 
 her face as it was reflected in the mirror 
 opposite him. She was apparently gazing at 
 her own image, but in her eyes there was
 
 46 NADINE, 
 
 a look of melancholy, almost of despair, so 
 intense that it startled him. He involuntarily 
 uttered her name and recalled her to herself. 
 
 ^^Your expression alarmed me/^ he said 
 apologetically. "The lamp threw a ghastly 
 shade upon your face. I fancied that you 
 might be ill." 
 
 Miss Senguin met his glance of troubled 
 inquiry with one of her doubtful smiles. 
 
 " No ; I was only thinking. . . . Dream- 
 ing/' she added mournfully, "dreams of the 
 future, in which one sometimes sees warning 
 ghosts. . . . Ah, papa/' she continued, with 
 a sudden animation, " you don't know how 
 superstitious the Dormers have made me ! 
 Henceforth your spiritualistic seances, your 
 mediums, and your astrological studies shall 
 be sacred from my ridicule. I intend to
 
 ON THE BRINK OF THE PRECIPICE. 4/ 
 
 bring you back a perfect repertoire of gliost 
 stoHes from Croxham. There is a mysterious 
 white lady who walks the central corridor, 
 and there are unearthly sounds and unac- 
 countable lights, all of which I mean 
 seriously to investigate. Dr. Bramwell, you 
 are an inveterate sceptic, but in the interests 
 of science I shall call upon you for your 
 co-operation."
 
 48 NADINE. 
 
 BOOK 11. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OP DRAMA. 
 
 Dr. Bramwell did not see Miss Sengnin 
 again before lier departure for Croxliam, to 
 whicli hospitable abode felie had been bidden 
 a week earlier than the less intimate friends 
 who were invited for the Chollerton Races. 
 
 The Dormers were seldom at any time 
 alonO; and besides her host^s family, Nadine 
 found at Croxham, Colonel Halkett, the 
 gentleman spoken of by Mr. Senguin to Dr. 
 Bramwell ; Miss Curtis, a handsome, indolent 
 heiress, the niece of Mrs. Dormer, whom the
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 49 
 
 latter — plain, clever, cliarming, and slightly 
 satirical — catalogued to Nadine as follows : — 
 '' My dear, she is a small soul oppressed 
 by a large body. One feels quite a sympathy 
 for the over-weight of fine flesh. She won^t 
 bore us. She may stay five days and she 
 may stay five weeks. It depends upon how 
 the supply of French novels holds out. I have 
 taken care to lay in a stock from Rolandi^s 
 and have directed her attention to the most 
 springy arm-chair in the house. She is a 
 beautiful piece of furniture which eats, and 
 has a weakness for truffles ; " Mrs. Bartelotte, 
 commonly called Clem Bartelotte, a pretty, 
 vivacious American, with her husband, a 
 travelled gentleman of varied accomplishment, 
 which ranged between a facility for decipher- 
 ing Egyptian hieroglyphics and for taking 
 
 VOL. I, E
 
 50 NADINE. 
 
 successfully the stiffest Leicestersliire bull- 
 finches j a young diplomatist who knew every- 
 body and everything, and who was suspected 
 of admiration for Nadine^, and serious designs 
 upon Miss Curtis; and finally, Mr. Jem 
 Ormthwaite, a north-country squire, who had 
 been discovered a short time before by Harry 
 Dormer in the act of gazing disconsolately 
 into the Serpentine, and upon being asked 
 what he was doing, replied grimly, " Waiting 
 for November,^^ whereupon Mr. Dormer repre- 
 sented that Chollerton Races might be a poor 
 but temporary substitute for fox-hunting-, and 
 carried him off in triumph to Croxham. 
 
 The party was small enough for sociability, 
 and sufficiently large to subdivide conveni- 
 ently into twos upon occasions. Croxham 
 was a charming country house full of
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 5 I 
 
 resources^ so close to London tliat it was well 
 in the world, and offered workers or pleasure- 
 seekers agreeable opportunities for running 
 down to dinner and returning by a well-timed 
 midnight train. Mrs. Dormer was Catholic 
 in her tastes and Bohemian in her proclivities ; 
 and she was one of the few hostesses who 
 contrive to amalgamate successfully the 
 country element with that of London life. 
 
 There was a sense of freedom in the at- 
 mosphere ; cigarettes were tolerated in most 
 places, and conversation always flowed freely, 
 even verging sometimes on innocent laxity. 
 A good deal of money was lost and won in 
 the evenings at loo and poker. Flirtation, 
 which might have been considered compro- 
 mising, was accepted in good faith. '^ Honi 
 suit qui mal y pense" represented Mrs. 
 
 E 2 
 
 <5 Gr
 
 52 NADINE. 
 
 Dormer's social creed, and frisky matrons, 
 well known on tlie Promenade des Anglais, 
 and familiar with Monte Carlo, found ample 
 opportunities for diversion during the spring 
 and autumn gaieties at CroxLam. 
 
 At the present crisis, this freedom from 
 restraint and absence of ill-natured com- 
 ment or disagreeable suspicion was particu- 
 larly grateful to I^adine Senguin. Her tem- 
 perament possessed all' the Slavonic pliability. 
 She seemed to have cast aside those tragic 
 forebodings at which she had hinted in her 
 conversation with Dr. Bramwell, and had 
 assumed, with her pretty London gowns, a 
 reckless vivacity of manner which rendered 
 her the very hfe of the party. A demon 
 of restlessness appeared to have entered into 
 her; it was as though she found silence and
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 53 
 
 solitude insupportable even for an hour. She 
 rode and walked a good deal with her host 
 and with Colonel Halkett. She entered with 
 eagerness into Mrs. Dormer^s plans for enter- 
 taining her guests — romped with the children, 
 played lively rausic_, and sang gay French 
 songs with the entrain of a vivandidre, chat- 
 tered to Mrs. Bartelotte, and except at the 
 rare moments when her body was still and 
 her face in repose, looked as though she had 
 not a care to cloud her girlish levity. 
 
 The Chollerton Races were to take place 
 on the seventh and eighth of May^ and on 
 the afternoon of the sixth all the party, with 
 the exception of Dr. Bramwell, who was 
 momentarily expected, were assembled in the 
 hall at Croxham, where Mrs. Dormer, looking 
 particularly quaint and original in her trim
 
 54 NADINE. 
 
 serge costume^ was pouring out tea_, and with 
 tlie tact wliicli made her so popular, was 
 dolno^ her best to remove the sliofht stiffness 
 that so often follows the arrival of a bevy 
 of strangers. 
 
 The hall at Croxham was an attractive 
 lounging-place, and was more frequently 
 occupied than any other room in the house. 
 Now, though it was broad daylight without, 
 and the scent of lilac and narcissus floated 
 in through one open window, a blazing log 
 surmounted the great heap of white ashes 
 upon the hearth, and the bright reflections 
 from the antique silver tea-service, the steam- 
 ing muffins upon their brass tripod before 
 the fire, and the presence of two lazy-looking 
 dackshunds curled up upon the hearthrug, 
 seemed more in harmony with a touch of
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 55 
 
 rawness in the air tlian with any precon- 
 ceived notions of our merry month of May. 
 
 The dark panelled walls, hung with family 
 portraits and ornamented with china plaques 
 and old willow-patterned dishes ; the som- 
 brely-tinted screens and tapestry iiortUres ; 
 the oak bookcases^ and dusky recesses lighted 
 with vivid spots of colour, in the shape of 
 some gorgeous, quaintly-fashioned vase from 
 the East, some antique brazen shield, rich 
 piece of bric-a-brac or stand of azaleas or 
 calceolarias, formed an harmonious back- 
 ground to the scattered groups. It was a 
 charming scene, rendered doubly so by the 
 living element of attractive women and men, 
 possessing more or less the air of distinction 
 which good breeding imparts. All were 
 talking — the elder gentlemen somewhat apart.
 
 56 NADINE. 
 
 tlieir deep tones_, as tliey discussed sport or 
 politics, contrastiug with the ladies' milder 
 voices, and with the not unmelodious twang 
 of Mrs, Bartelotte, who, attired in the most 
 ^ fetching ' of tea gowns, leaned back in a 
 basket-chair, with her pretty, pert face turned 
 towards Mr. Ormthwaite, while she stroked 
 the golden hair of Mrs. Dormer's little girl 
 of three. Mrs. Bartelotte had a way of 
 rippling on about nothing in^ particular, which 
 filled up pauses; and as her discourse was 
 accompanied by much graceful gesticulation, 
 it was agreeable to eye and ear. 
 
 "Well, I must say I do admire children, 
 they're so round and soft, and their dimples 
 are so 'cute. You should see my baby, Mrs. 
 Dormer; she's real lovely. I intend to have 
 her portrait painted. I wish you'd tell me
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DEAMA. 5/ 
 
 of a young artist that^s going to be a cele- 
 brity; it's always best to catcli tbem young. 
 I tliougbt I bad discovered a treasure the 
 other day. He was an Italian. His name 
 was Count Dam'mi. It sounds like an ob- 
 jurgation, don't it_, Mr. Ormthwaite ? He 
 had a title as long as my arm, and I assure 
 you that was the shortest part of it. I 
 wasn't going to lose sight of him, so I took 
 him all the way from Eome to Freckenham. 
 Gerald said that if I chose to buy him a 
 new suit of clothes, and half-a-dozen shirts, 
 and pay his washing-bills, I might keep him. 
 I guess he was dear at the price, that Count. 
 I must say he wasn't a success. Gerald 
 thought he'd show him something of English 
 country life, and took him out shooting. He 
 had a passion for improving his mind ; I will
 
 58 NADINE. 
 
 say that for Count Dam'mi. You sliould have 
 seen his get-up : he turned out armed like 
 a desperado. Pm sure I don't know what he 
 expected ; but I must say he wasn't alto- 
 gether pleased. This is what he remarked 
 when he came back. You must just imagine 
 a creature like a shrimp_, with beady black 
 eyes and an imperial." Mrs. Bartelotte exe- 
 cuted a little pantomimic description. " ' I 
 do not onderstand ze way ze- English gentle- 
 men make sport. Zey shoot ze little birds; 
 I shoot ze brigands.' I calculate/' added 
 Mrs. Bartelotte reflectively, ^^ there was nothing 
 paltry about his ideas. . . . Now, Colonel 
 Halkett, there isn't the least use in your 
 eyeing a certain young lady in that savage 
 fashion, for she is appropriated already, so 
 come and give me the straight tip for the
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 59 
 
 Chollerton Cup, for I've got to replenish my 
 purse after all my losses at poker.'^ 
 
 Nadine Senguin^ the object of Mrs. Barte- 
 lotte^s observation, was seated in a window 
 recess at the further end of the room. Her 
 gaze was fixed upon the carriage-drive, which 
 from her position she commanded. She 
 looked feverish and excited. Upon each 
 cheek glowed a spot of carmine. Her lips 
 were parted in an artificial smile, but her 
 eyes wore a melancholy expression, and she 
 turned an abstracted ear to the conversation 
 of her companion, a small, sandy-whiskered 
 man, one of Mrs. Dormer^s gifted proteges^ 
 whose claims to social consideration rested 
 upon the practice of palmistry and a general 
 proficiency in such-like recondite arts ; and 
 who had now launched himself upon a stream
 
 6o NADINE. 
 
 of discourse tending towards his favourite 
 topics. 
 
 '^ You don't remember me, Miss Senguin ; 
 that was not to be expected; but I have 
 seen you. Do you recollect a conversazione 
 at the South Kensington, and a lecture upon 
 ' Physiognomical Diversities in European 
 Races ' given by Deodatus Lumley ? Imagine 
 an existence weighted by the name of Deo- 
 datus ! Don't you pity me ? You were 
 there with Mrs. Dormer and Colonel Halkett. 
 I have a keen eye for faces that are out 
 of the common. Yours puzzled me, for I 
 could not at first determine your nationality. 
 Oh, I know all about it now. You are half 
 Russian. Mrs. Dormer enlightened me ; but 
 not before my inner consciousness had evolved 
 the fact from your voice and appearance.'^
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 6 1 
 
 Miss Senguin turned lier face towards Mr. 
 Lumley, lier eyebrows delicately elevated, a 
 faint gleam of interest in lier eyes. 
 
 *' The feminine Russian type/^ continued 
 he, didactically^ ^^is at once languorous and 
 spirituelle, passionate and cold_, impulsive 
 and subtle. All these characteristics fore- 
 token drama in life.^^ 
 
 " Ah J drama is pleasant ! '' murmured 
 Nadine. 
 
 *' You will make it. I see tragedy shadowed 
 forth in your nostrils. Do not dilate them so 
 scornfully, Miss Senguin. Let me refer you 
 to Lavater for information on that point; 
 and to go further, I have not the least doubt 
 that the testimony of your nose will be con- 
 firmed by the lines of your palm." 
 
 Nadine, with a gesture of curiosity.
 
 62 NADINE. 
 
 tendered her slim and exquisitely-shaped 
 hand, upon which glittered several valuable 
 rings. Mr. Lumley took it within his own, 
 turned it over, and, while examining it with 
 apparent minuteness, continued talking in his 
 serio-comic manner. 
 
 " To a student of pathognomy. Miss Sen- 
 guin, the hand is a book which contains the 
 secrets of human nature; no line or curve, 
 no mound or indenture is without significance. 
 The shape of a finger-nail may determine 
 belief. Success or failure, the struggles of 
 ambition, the pangs of defeat may be read 
 on this little elevation,^^ and he lightly 
 touched the edge of Nadine's palm. ^' Destiny 
 speaks in the line descending from the 
 second finger, and the workings of the 
 heart are revealed in this chain-like tracing,
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 6^ 
 
 which, alas ! tells of emotional ebbings and 
 Sowings, of instability of attachment, pain 
 inflicted, loyalty ill-requited. Ah me ! a 
 melancholy record. Do you shrink ? Shall 
 I continue ? ^' 
 
 " Pray go on," said Nadine, her egotism 
 piqued ; " but you generalize too much. Tell 
 me something more definite." 
 
 " You have a clear intellect, too much in 
 subjection to your impulses for your safety 
 or peace of mind. You are now, or shortly 
 will be, dominated by a passion that will 
 materiall}^ affect the course of your life." 
 
 Nadine started, and looked keenly at the 
 fortune-teller, but his eyes were fixed intently 
 upon her palm. She answered in a tone of 
 raillery — 
 
 "" And yet you say that T am inconstant."
 
 64 NADINE. 
 
 " True j but in this case — Do you really 
 wisli to know what I see ? ^' 
 
 Nadine nodded. 
 
 " Passion is arrested almost in the hour 
 of consummation by sudden death/^ 
 
 The gravity of Mr. Lumley^s manner pro- 
 duced a strong effect upon Miss Senguin. 
 She turned very pale and half withdrew her 
 hand. 
 
 '*■ Not your own death/' lie added, reassur- 
 ingly. ^' A prosperous marriage, health, and 
 long life are promised you. Was I not 
 right ? Your nature does present the ele- 
 ments of drama. But you need not fear 
 personal disaster; you will be in peril, but 
 you will escape from it. I am not altogether 
 a prophet of evil. Your line of Saturn points 
 to a brilliant career; here is denoted the
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 65 
 
 favour of princes. Wealth, and social dis- 
 tinction will be yours." 
 
 ^' And happiness ? ^^ asked Nadine, " for it 
 seems to me that your bag of blessings is 
 weighted by curses.'^ 
 
 " Ah^ happiness ! That is indeed hard to 
 define. Who is happy ? Shall you be happy 
 on the box seat of Dormer's drag to-morrow^ 
 even though, you know yourself to be the 
 envy of professional beauties, and are certain 
 of an invitation to the Blues' ball ? There 
 will be an east wind, or you will have the 
 wrong person beside you,'* added Mr Lumley, 
 plaintively. "There always is an east wind 
 in life, except when one wants it to keep 
 bores away.-" 
 
 Nadine laughed nervously. The sound of 
 carriage -wheels without attracted her eyes 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 NADINE. 
 
 to the window; but again her gaze drooped 
 towards her lap, and she appeared lost in 
 contemplation of the hand which no longer 
 rested in that of Mr. Lumley. It was only 
 a fly laden with luggage that had driven 
 round to the side entrance. She did not 
 speak for a few moments; her attention had 
 wandered. 
 
 Mr. Lumley observed her abstraction, and 
 rattled on with commenda,ble'tact. 
 
 "What a delightful old hall this is, 
 especially at this hour ! It is the fashion 
 with our neighbours across the Channel to 
 ridicule the Anglo tea mania, but it has cer- 
 tainly an element of the picturesque. Five 
 o'clock tea, charming faces, old oak, faded 
 tapestry, and blue China, — all the accessories 
 complete for a genre picture, — and a faint
 
 THE FORESHADOWING OF DRAMA. 6j 
 
 suggestion of gliostly presence in the back- 
 ground. The soul of an gesthete could not 
 more desire. Here^s Halkett_, Miss Senguin, 
 making for you with a tea-cup in one hand 
 and a cream-jug in the other. His mission 
 in life is to amuse, and as 1 am not even 
 interesting you, — your eyes are more truth- 
 ful than your lips, — 1^11 give him my chair_, 
 and go and make myself useful in carrying 
 about the muffins.'^ 
 
 F 2
 
 68 NADINE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LOVER A LA MODE. 
 
 Colonel Halkett miglit have posed as a 
 nineteentli century hero of that now familiar 
 type which combines the muscular with the 
 sentimental. Capacity for all the finer emo- 
 tions did not in his case appear incompatible 
 with proficiency in every manly pursuit. One 
 could have foretold that women would find 
 him an irresistible suitor, and men an excel- 
 lent boon companion. He was tall and spare, 
 with straight features, a blonde moustache, 
 and fierce, melancholy eyes, which seemed
 
 A LOVER A LA MOBK 69 
 
 now to seek a return glance from those of 
 Miss Senguin; but, strange to say, she hardly- 
 looked up as he approached^ nor did she 
 address him any word of thanks when she 
 accepted the cap of tea which he had brought 
 her. 
 
 He seated himself in the chair which Mr. 
 Lumley had vacated. 
 
 <^ Why do you watch the carriage- drive ? '* 
 he asked. ^' Are you expecting any one ? " 
 
 "Yes. There is another guest still to 
 arrive." 
 
 " Some one in whom you are interested ? 
 Happy person ! '^ 
 
 " It would be more true to say that he 
 is interested in me/' replied Nadine, smiling 
 artificially. 
 
 "Ah! "said Colonel Halkett; "a gentle-
 
 JO NADIXE. 
 
 man ! That makes all the difference. I 
 retract my exclamation. He has my pity." 
 
 Their glances met : hers full, troubled^ 
 vaguely fearful ; his deep-set, fiery, with the 
 faintest element of mastery. 
 
 "I give you false impressions," said Nadine, 
 bending forward and speaking impulsively. 
 ^'^ My regard for Dr. Bramwell — you know, I 
 have spoken to you of him — is really strong, 
 only it is abstract, not personal. His feelings, 
 his hopes, his future are no great concern of 
 mine. If he were unhappy I should be sorr}^, 
 but it would not touch me deeply. Oh ! I am 
 ashamed of being so cold-blooded. . . . But 
 it is true that he influences me powerfully; 
 and his influence has usually the disagreeable 
 efiect of making me miserable. Do you know 
 why ? His greatest weakness is in believing
 
 A LOVER A LA MOLE. 7 1 
 
 me good. . . . Ah ! '^ she added^ and her 
 eyes seemed to shine through tears, " what a 
 mockery it is to talk of free will when one 
 considers how entirely we are at the mercy of 
 circumstances which we do not make, and of 
 people who master us whether we will have it 
 so or not.-" 
 
 " No/' said Colonel Halkett, '' we are 
 mastered by our own emotions, passions — all 
 within ourselves that makes life positive and 
 worth the living. This is not a bondage to 
 be mourned, but the happy servitude of higher 
 natures which frees them from the galling 
 chain of circumstance ; if with it there is 
 sometimes pain and rebellion, does it not 
 bring also the most exquisite bliss ? " 
 
 " You call it so ? It seems to me that joy 
 is born in the death-throes of all that is best
 
 72 NADINE. 
 
 in our nature. And what is left ? What 
 follows ? This is the thing I want to know. 
 This is the thought which haunts me." 
 
 At that moment Dr. Bramwell was an- 
 nounced. His grave presence^ the square, 
 heavy brow, dark, thoughtful eyes, and air of 
 reserve and preoccupation, seemed in a vague 
 but apparent manner to affect the whole party. 
 Those with whom he was acquainted smiled 
 upon his entrance, after a fashion less con- 
 ventional than their wont ; and the strangers 
 watched with an expression of awakened 
 interest the approach of a man whose lately 
 published investigations in certain imper- 
 fectly explored fields of mental physiology, 
 had attracted the attention of the College of 
 Physicians, and had caused his name to be 
 quoted in such popular and scientific journals
 
 A LOVER A LA MODE. 73 
 
 as might be found upon the drawing-room 
 tables of the fashionable world. As he 
 advanced, Mrs. Dormer rose, greeting him 
 warmly. The eyes of both Miss Senguin and 
 Colonel Halkett followed his movements, and 
 the latter remarked, — 
 
 " So that is the man who you say exercises 
 a queer sort of moral influence over you. He 
 prescribes for your mental as well as your 
 physical ailments — a convenient combination 
 of the functions of priest and doctor. It is a 
 curious fancy of yours. ... I wish,^' he 
 exclaimed in low, earnest tones, *' that I could 
 draw you out of this current of morbid, 
 exciting thought, which is poisoning for you 
 all the sweetness of life.'' 
 
 "Do you think that it becomes you to 
 reproach me because — ? '^
 
 74 NADINE. 
 
 She hesitated ; her eyes drooped^ and a 
 faint colour rose to her cheeks. 
 
 " Because you have come to me_, like an 
 angel to one in despair, and have taught me 
 the meaning of happiness ? '^ 
 
 "No, no_, no. Because I can never be again 
 the girl Dr. Bramwell now imagines me to be." 
 
 "Why will you not believe that you are 
 one of those women by whom men are 
 redeemed ? " whispered Colonel Halkett, pas- 
 sionately — " the women who win honour and 
 devotion by noble self-surrender." 
 
 " Honeyed words ! Sweet, but false, false ! 
 They are like lulling narcotics. But after 
 dreamy delight comes the reaction of misery. 
 That is the way with me. I feel happy 
 sometimes — yes, very happy, and then .... 
 There are two creatures within me, which
 
 A LOVEE A LA MODE. 75 
 
 are always torturing each, other : tlie one 
 cold^ self-analyzing, calculating; tlie other 
 impulsive, variable^ daring. You know both. 
 I read in some book the other day that this 
 dual temperament is characteristic of the 
 Russian type. There again, you see, is an 
 instance of our subjection to forces beyond 
 the control of our will. But this is not the 
 place, and we are not the kind of people to 
 discuss metaphysics. For us life is too real.'^ 
 ^adine rose and advanced a few steps. '^Mrs. 
 Dormer,^' she said, ^' do you think that I may 
 venture to ask for some roses to wear this 
 evening, or is your gardener a tyrant ? " 
 
 '^ I have no doubt, my dear, that he will be 
 a slave to you. But as Dr. Bramwell is the 
 old man's especial favourite, I advise you to 
 take him with you.'^
 
 76 NADINE. 
 
 Nadine turned to her lover and gave him 
 her hand, smiling bewitchingly. 
 
 '^ Yon have come from Alston to-day ? And 
 have you seen papa ? " she asked. " Now 
 you must tell me all about the dear old man, , 
 and whether he is a cripple still, and how 
 Dr. Hervey consoles him for my absence. 
 And have you brought the book of glees I 
 told them to send by you ? Mrs. Dormer, I 
 have made a discovery. Colonel Halkett has 
 really a charming voice ; but Mrs. Bartelotte's 
 passion for poker has demoralized him to 
 such an extent that anything so innocent as 
 music has no attraction for him.'' 
 
 *'Well/' said Mrs. Bartelotte with a 
 grimace, " T call that rough upon my morals, 
 considering that it was Colonel Halkett who 
 first persuaded me into gambling at Monte
 
 A LOVER A LA MOBE. yj 
 
 Carlo. I have been a hardened woman ever 
 since/' 
 
 Dr. BramwelPs heart bounded as he followed 
 Miss Senguin to the greenhouse^ but their 
 Ute-a-Ute hardly answered to his expectations. 
 She chattered incessantly the whole time 
 they were together, but upon indifferent sub- 
 jectSj interlarding her inquiries about Alston 
 matters with amusing anecdotes of Mrs. 
 Bartelotte, Deodatus Lumley, and others of 
 the Croxham visitors. He marvelled within 
 himself at the transformation her spirits had 
 undergone ; but, true to his compact, refrained 
 from any allusions which might render their 
 talk dangerously personal. He was vaguely 
 disquieted by the air of coquetry that he 
 now perceived in her. To his mind she was 
 more lovable in her impulsive, self-upbraiding
 
 78 NADIXE. 
 
 moods. But never had she appeared more 
 beautiful; every motion was instinct with 
 grace ; her dress^ even to the most minute 
 detail, was studied; her lips parted almost 
 languorously ; her eyes by turns melted, 
 with tenderness and sparkled with vivacity ; 
 her expression was never for two minutes 
 alike, yet all the while she presented the 
 same vivid and harmonious identity. She 
 bewitched him to a greater degree, yet not 
 quite in her former fashion. The fascination 
 was more unwholesome; it excited him and 
 yet deepened his melancholy. 
 
 When they returned to the house it was 
 found that most of the party had adjourned 
 to the billiard-room. Dr. Bramwell felt 
 himself out of place in the atmosphere of 
 gaiety and badinage. Nadiue threw herself
 
 A LOVEE A LA MODE. 79 
 
 with animation into some bantering talk, to 
 which he did not possess the key, and he 
 betook himself to Mrs. Dormer, who did not 
 add to his happiness by her free and unsus- ' 
 picious relation of Miss Senguin^s triumphs. 
 Mrs. Dormer was a woman of fashion, far 
 removed from prudishness, who took life as 
 she found it, and was too cynical, possibly too 
 deep of nature, to be vain. It amused her 
 to chaperone a new beauty, and she had a 
 curiosity to observe how Nadine would deal 
 with the ball that lay at her feet. 
 
 Dr. BramwelFs vague feeling of dissatis- 
 faction did not decrease during the evening, 
 and he had still the sensation of being out of 
 the swing of proceedings. Nadine descended, 
 lovely in black velvet, with tea roses at her 
 breast, and was soon the object of universal
 
 80 NADINE. 
 
 attention. Dr. BramwelPs consolation^ that 
 slie liad given him the bud which he wore in 
 his button-hole, was counteracted when he 
 perceived that Colonel Halkett was similarly- 
 decorated ; but he again derived comfort from 
 the recollection of Mr. Senguin's story. The 
 man whose mad wife was still living could not 
 be Nadine's suitor. 
 
 He had hoped that it might fall to his lot 
 to take Miss Senguin in to dinner, but fate, or 
 Mrs. Dormer, had ordained otherwise. She 
 was given to a stripling lord, one of the 
 country neighbours; and to Dr. Bramwell 
 was awarded Miss Curtis, who, handsome and 
 stolid, principally confined herself to the 
 discussion o£ an elaborate repast. 
 
 Upon his other side was a travelled, rather 
 blue, old-young lady, whose proclivities were
 
 A LOVER A LA 2I0DE. 
 
 literary and artistic, and who dabbled in 
 shallow science^ but who^ fearful of commit- 
 ting herself, did not venture beyond safe 
 generalities. She had read an article in one 
 of the magazines upon Dr. BramwelPs theories 
 concerning nerve function and nerve organ- 
 ization ; and though retaining but a misty 
 notion of his special claim to honour, was 
 alive to the advantages of acquaintanceship 
 with a man likely to become famous. Miss 
 Beauchamp had a great deal to say upon 
 most subjects, and attacked Dr. Bramwell 
 from various points, but without striking 
 success. Sara Bernhardt and the French 
 plays ; the private view at Burlington House ; 
 modern literature ; M. Pasteur^s discoveries ; 
 and finally, apropos of Caro and Le monJe 
 ou Von s^ennidey prettily dressed latter-day 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 NADINE. 
 
 philosophy, — all fell flat. Dr. Bramwell, 
 catching sight of Nadine some little way 
 down the table, her fine face shadowed by 
 a drooping frond of fern, her eyes fixed 
 intently upon him in a gaze half-melancholy, 
 half-beseeching, listened inattentively to the 
 remarks of his erudite neighbour. 
 
 *^ People talk of Germany as the home of 
 scepticism, but we English outrun the Ger- 
 mans in our materialism. Germans cannot be 
 rationalists ; they are essentially theists ; none 
 have ever denied the existence of the soul. 
 Have you studied Descartes, Dr. Bramwell ? " 
 Dr. Bramwell answered at random, hitting 
 the mark. 
 
 " Are you alluding to French or German 
 philosophy ? " 
 
 " Gracious ! '^ exclaimed Mrs. Bartelotte
 
 A LOVER A LA MODE. 83 
 
 across tlie table. '^I shall never ask you to 
 come and see me in London, Dr. Bramwell, if 
 tliat is the kind of light conversation you 
 indulge in. Pm as ignorant as a typical 
 country woman whom I met at Nice; she 
 thought Tauchnitz a very good author, but 
 was surprised that the foreign libraries had so 
 many of his works." 
 
 *^*'Ah! " sighed Miss Curtis, who had caught 
 only the word Nice, '^ we used to breakfast 
 sometimes at the Reserve. The bouillabaisse 
 is so excellent.^' 
 
 Miss Senguin smiled from the distance in a 
 
 manner that^ implied intimate understanding. 
 
 A warm glow suffused Dr. Bram well's soul, 
 
 which had been cold and hungry for some 
 
 definite sign of her regard. He plunged into 
 
 a wild dissertation upon the Cartesian system. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 NADINE. 
 
 This had at least the happy effect of alarming 
 his philosophical interlocutor, and she was 
 glad to withdraw from these deep waters to 
 the comparative shallows of Wagnerian music. 
 Dr. Bramwell determined to seek Nadine 
 later, and at all hazards to try and draw her 
 into confidential talk. But alas for his chances 
 of private conference with this enigmatic 
 lady whom he loved ! After dinner his host, 
 full of kindly but misplaced interest, led him 
 aside to ask innumerable questions about the 
 London life which he intended to embrace. 
 Did not Croxham feel justifiable .pride in its 
 doctor who had already achieved celebrity ? 
 And when Dr. Bramwell was able to escape 
 from Mr. Dormer he found that Miss Sensruin 
 had seated herself at the card-table, and was 
 banking with Colonel Halkett.
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 85 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 
 
 It is a pleasant sensation to be seated on 
 a well-appointed drag, beside one of the best 
 whips in England, and behind a team of 
 spanking horses which you are certain will 
 not be eclipsed by any in the coaching en- 
 closure. Nadine Senguin, abstract and emo- 
 tional as she sometimes appeared, was by no 
 means insusceptible to these material con- 
 siderations. Contrary to Mr. Deodatus Lum- 
 ley's vaticinations, there was no east wind, 
 she was not beside the wrong person, and
 
 86 NADINE. 
 
 in all the consciousness of beauty enhanced 
 by a becoming toilette^ she felt herself in 
 excellent spirits. Apart too from any pecu- 
 liarly private feelings^ there was a scarcely- 
 defined sense of gratification in the reflection 
 that her charioteer, Colonel Halkett, to whom 
 Mr. Dormer had yielded the reins, was a man 
 of fashion, whose attentions might almost be 
 considered the hall-mark of social success. 
 
 The seat of honour had by common consent 
 been allotted to Miss Senguin. She was to 
 be the new ' beauty/ and had already begun 
 to taste some of the sweets which that dis- 
 tinction confers. The elder married ladies, 
 with their appointed squires, had preferred 
 going comfortably by train to the long drive 
 and chance of taking cold ; and Mrs. Barte- 
 lotte, determined on no account to desert Mr
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 8/ 
 
 Ormthwaite, whose education she had taken 
 in hand, and whom she had resolved to inspire 
 with a taste for dissipation more piquant than 
 fox-hunting, sat with that gentleman behind ; 
 the other seats were filled by the younger 
 and more spirited of the guests at Croxham, 
 including, though he could hardly be classed 
 with them, Dr. Bramwell. 
 
 He, placed -to the left of Mrs. Bartelotte, 
 had ample opportunity for observing the 
 demeanour of Miss Senguin, and could not 
 avoid hearing scraps of the conversation 
 which she carried on with Colonel Halkett. 
 
 It was frivolous enough, certainly not of 
 a kind to arouse jealousy; but it seemed 
 to Bramwell that the voices of both rang 
 artificially, and their talk was emphasized 
 by gestures implying a certain nameless
 
 88 NADINE. 
 
 familiarity, and by quickly averted glances 
 cliarged with some subtle current of thought 
 which he could not divine, but which set 
 his brain working in conjecture, hateful to 
 himself, and degrading to the goddess w^ho 
 still sat enthroned in his imagination. 
 
 Yet in spite of the smiling radiance of 
 Nadine's face, it wore an expression more in 
 harmony with this vein of thought than with 
 the mental vision of her which Bramwell 
 cherished. Can change of feature be wrought 
 in a week ? Could it be possible that the 
 lips had shaped themselves into fuller curves, 
 and that the eyelids had acquired a trick of 
 voluptuous drooping and of sudden, coquettish 
 uplifting of fringed lashes ? Surely this was 
 not the girl who had played Schumann to 
 him in the Alston drawing-room so short a
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 89 
 
 time ago ! Dreams ! Were all his hopes 
 baseless ? and did Nadine's purity of mind 
 and grace of character exist only in his 
 fancy ? 
 
 'No, a thousand times ! Not for an instant 
 would he admit the bare suggestion. 
 
 Chollerton, though comparatively a small 
 race meeting, is one of the most popular in 
 England. Upon this occasion, royalty was 
 represented; the great houses in the neigh- 
 bourhood had sent forth large parties, and 
 many well-known London faces smiled from 
 the grand stand and from the tops of the 
 drags in the four-in-hand enclosure. Hun- 
 dreds of opera- glasses were levelled at the 
 dark green coach, with its well-dressed freight 
 and team of handsome bays, and whispers of 
 admiration ran down the row as Colonel
 
 90 NADINE. 
 
 Halkett swept smoothly in at the opening and 
 took up his position in line with the rest. 
 
 To court the gaze of a thousand eyes is 
 part of the programme of a race day. To 
 simulate enjoyment, if not to experience it, a 
 social necessity. Kill-joy faces are an insult 
 to the pleasure- seekers, who, not having yet 
 lost their money, ready to skim the cream 
 of sport and pleasure, and anticipating a 
 profitable if brief future of «;greeable possi- 
 bilities, are as fresh as the ladies^ toilettes 
 and the jockeys' colours. 
 
 But Bramwell in nowise fulfilled these 
 conditions. It is one of the misfortunes of 
 a doctor^s profession that in it he is trained 
 to peer below the surface of life, and that 
 in whatever situation he finds himself, the 
 earnest student must be oppressed by a sense
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 9 1 
 
 of incongruity and of want of harmon}'- 
 between the frothy exterior and the human 
 interests and passions that surge below. This 
 feeling was intensified tenfold in Dr. Bram- 
 well to-day. The garish display, the forced 
 laughter^ the artificial excitement, the element 
 of coarseness and sensuality, which if not 
 disagreeably obtruded in the fashionable 
 crowd, was painfully manifest in the mob 
 pressing against 'the enclosure, awakened in 
 him a keen sensation of disgust. Were those 
 painted gaudy creatures, whose trade was 
 written upon their faces, of the same mould 
 as Nadine ? It seemed to him desecration 
 of his ideal that she should, as was apparent, 
 lend herself heart and soul to the spirit of 
 such a scene as this. 
 
 The party divided. Some joined Mrs.
 
 92 NADINE. 
 
 Dormer in tlie grand stand ; others remained 
 on tbe drag to watch the horses being led 
 out for the first race. Nadine, her face 
 flushed and eager, surveyed the course from 
 her position of vantage in front, while Colonel 
 Halkett held her parasol and adjusted the 
 focus of her field-glass. 
 
 In her excitement she placed her hand 
 upon his arm ; their faces were close together. 
 
 Bramwell could not then -account for the 
 repulsion which their attitude aroused in his 
 mind. He leaned forward and asked if she 
 would accompany him to the saddling 
 paddock. 
 
 Colonel Halkett shot at him a brief, bright 
 glance, and bit the end of his tawny mous- 
 tache. For a second Nadine appeared to 
 hesitate, then said with a light laugh —
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 93 
 
 " Not now. At this moment my thoughts 
 are concentrated on cold chicken and cham- 
 pagne. Later on^ Dr. Bramwell, yon may 
 take me to the paddock; and in the mean- 
 time, if you want to earn my eternal grati- 
 tude, go across to the Stand and remind 
 Mrs. Dormer, when the race is over, that 
 there are hungry souls here dying for 
 luncheon. Colonel Halkett, the race after 
 this one is for the Cup, isn't it ? I am glad 
 that we shall be well-fortified before it comes 
 off. I stand to win or lose six dozen pairs 
 of Swedish kid gloves on Miss Mary; and 
 you ? '^ 
 
 Colonel Halkett laughed a little unsteadily. 
 "More than I like to think of before 
 luncheon. Miss Senguin ; " and then, bending 
 towards her, he whispered something in a
 
 94 NADINE. 
 
 low tone^ at wliicli her face became set and 
 white, and she glanced round uneasily. 
 
 But Dr. Bramwell had left the drag and 
 was on his way to the Stand. There Mrs. 
 Dormer, smiling but inaccessible, was ex- 
 changing greetings with London friends. 
 The place seemed all a flutter of feminine 
 drapery and a buzz of chatter. Pretty women 
 fingered dainty lorgnettes and toyed with lace 
 parasols; goddesses in nineteenth-century 
 attire displayed a mundane eagerness over 
 their betting-books; frisky matrons de- 
 spatched their admirers upon excursions to 
 the ring; and portly dames interchanged 
 county civilities with bored-looking squires ; 
 while men of all types passed to and fro, 
 blocking up the narrow gangway. One of 
 these — muscular, fresh - complexioned, with
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 95 
 
 something of the sporting cut in his attire — 
 accosted Bramwell as the latter was steering 
 circumspectly towards his destination. 
 
 " Why^ Julian^ old fellow ! Is it you ? 
 What ages since we met ! This puts me in 
 mind of the old days at Cambridge, when 
 you were a front rank man with the Fitz- 
 William_, and a successful performer at Cotten- 
 ham. I fancied that you had eschewed 
 athletics, sport, fashion, and all the rest of 
 it, to become a medical great gun. I read 
 a paragraph about you in one of the papers 
 the other day — madness, hydrophobia, or 
 something equally horrible and incurable, 
 traced to insects .... Everything is traced 
 to insects now-a-days. Mortality in grouse, 
 agricultural depression, consumption, and 
 Egyptian difficulties. Where are you staying?^'
 
 g6 NADINE. 
 
 *^' With the Dormers at Croxham/^ 
 "In the same house with that pretty 
 Miss Senguin, of the queer Eussian name^ 
 about whom every one is talking, and who 
 is flirting so outrageously with Halkett ! 
 I envy you your opportunities of studying 
 the colour of her eyes. I have a bet with 
 Yorke on the subject. He says they^-e 
 grey ; I back them for green. You can't 
 help me, I suppose ? I sball put the case 
 to Harry Dormer_, and get him to introduce 
 me." 
 
 Disgusted and sore, Dr. Bramwell pressed 
 on ; but the crowd thickened, and presently 
 he came to a standstill beside the first row 
 of chairs. A striking-looking lady, one of 
 the freest and fastest of the fashionable set 
 'of married women, stood with her profile
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 97 
 
 towards him, talking in perfectly audible 
 tones to a gentleman upon lier left. 
 
 ^' You know the ins and outs of Colonel 
 Jack's little affairs/' she was saying. ^^ I 
 have been hearing all kinds of naughty things 
 about him lately. They say that he made 
 desperate love in the winter to that pretty 
 Miss Senguin, who is beside him on Harry 
 Dormer's drag opposite. Clem Bartelotte, 
 who went about with them a good deal, was 
 the first to tell her that horrid story of Mrs. 
 Jack and the madhouse. Really, there should 
 be a law allowing men to divorce insane 
 wives. Clem said — you know her quaint way 
 — ^ Well, I should say it ivas just a crusher ; 
 but that was not my business. My dear 
 woman ! romance and high falutin' arn't in 
 my line ; they take a deal too much out of the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 NADINE. 
 
 nervous system; but I guess there was a 
 pretty powerful eruption in that quarter. She 
 kept her room for a week, and Jw went off 
 all of a sudden to Paris/ That's the way of 
 the world/' added the lady. " Women when 
 they are hard hit send for their doctor, and 
 men — go to Paris. But this is a lame con- 
 clusion to the tragedy. There they are, 
 apparently excellent friends, with what seems 
 to be a remarkably tasty luncheon spread out 
 behind them ; and I'm bound to say that 
 neither hero or heroine give one the idea 
 of being victims to hopeless passion. How 
 has Colonel Jack settled matters?" 
 
 *' Oh, Halkett has a genius for Platonism." 
 
 The lady laughed. 
 
 '^Platonism answers admirably with married 
 women, but it don't do in the case of pretty
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 99 
 
 young ladies. Colonel Halkett is wise in his 
 generation. He will teach Miss Senguin 
 nineteentli century morality ; and seeing tliat 
 he cannot keep her for himself, will magnani- 
 mously hand her over to an unexceptionable 
 jparti.'' 
 
 " With all rights reserved ! Look, here 
 come the horses; and Potboy is nowhere. 
 You are in for a pony, Lady Alsager.'^ 
 
 Dr. Bramwell moved away, borne on by 
 the crush downwards to the course. The 
 shouting of the crowd, the yells of the 
 bookmakers, the buzz of exclamation, the 
 frou-frou of silk in the Stand, all mingled 
 confusedly in his ears like the roar of distant 
 thunder. His brain whirled. Escaping from 
 the throng of well-dressed people, he wan- 
 dered aimlessly among the motley mob 
 
 H 2
 
 100 NADINE. 
 
 outside the ropes, past spangled dancing- girls, 
 clowns, tumblers, sword-swallowers, booths 
 placarded with announcements of ^Bodiless 
 ladies,' ' Mammoth children,' ^ Wonders of 
 the World/ besieged every now and then by 
 hoarse entreaties that he would buy, a donkey 
 that swallowed pence, a rosebud for his 
 sweetheart, a pure-bred Skye terrier, a box 
 of lucifers, " for the love of God, and to save 
 a penniless widow and children frt»m starv- 
 ation " — sickening sights and sounds that 
 chimed in a horrible incongruous fashion with 
 the ghastly misgivings that rose in his mind. 
 His former vague doubts assumed shape now, 
 and appeared to mock at him like gibbering 
 fiends. A lurid light seemed thrown upon 
 his mental image of Nadine. Her wild words, 
 conflicting impulses, wayward moods, and
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. 10 1 
 
 occasional fixed look of misery, might be 
 interpreted by tlie key of passionate, unavail- 
 ing desire. . . . Yet, was it conceivable that 
 tragic yearning could mask itself beneath a 
 demeanour at times so frivolous ? If Lady 
 Alsager^s story were true, — Bramwell shud- 
 dered at the thought of his darling's name 
 the subject of shameful innuendo and vulgar 
 gossip, — he marvelled at the self-command 
 which enabled Nadine to support such 
 agony as, under the circumstances, this false- 
 eeeming intercourse at Croxham must imply; 
 or had she fallen so thoroughly into the 
 spirit of the age, that to enact the part 
 of heroine in a nineteenth-century drama, 
 involving the sacrifice of maidenly instinct, 
 and the torture of her most sacred emotions, 
 against such a background as now presented
 
 I02 NADINE. 
 
 itself, cost lier no more than a passing 
 pang ? 
 
 When Dr. Bramwell returned to the en- 
 closure the ostentatious business of luncheon 
 was in progress. Every drag had mounted 
 its white table-cloth, upon which glass and 
 silver glittered, aspic jelly quivered, and 
 lobsters and forced strawberries made brilliant 
 spots of colour. Each repast seemed to vie 
 with the other in a display of seasonable and 
 unseasonable dainties. Champagne corks 
 were flying, and there was a rattle of laughter 
 and light talk. The Dormers' party had 
 been reinforced from the Stand. Mrs. Barte- 
 lotte had discovered an old admirer, and was 
 not sorry to have an opportunity of piquing 
 Mr. Ormthwaite, who, she declared, was neg- 
 lecting her shamefully, and whom she rallied
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. IO3 
 
 unmercifully upon his preference for the 
 saddling-paddock and the ring. Miss Curtis, 
 her glass frequently replenished by the atten- 
 tive diplomatist^ was serenely enjoying her 
 luncheon^ and contributing but little to the 
 general hilarity. Deodatus Lumley^ Mr. Bar- 
 telotte, and Miss Beauchamp, the travelled 
 young lady who owned a weakness for im- 
 proving society, had secured a pigeon pie, 
 a dish of cold cutlets, and a bottle of cham- 
 pagne between them, and were enlivening 
 the more serious business of the collation 
 by a discussion upon Eastern mysticism. 
 Colonel Halkett had withdrawn from Nadine's 
 side, and was ministering to the wants of a 
 London beauty, whom Harry Dormer had borne 
 triumphantly across from the Stand, and two 
 young guardsmen leaned over Miss Senguin,
 
 104 NADINE. 
 
 wlio consumed lobster salad with a satisfac- 
 tion as placid as that evinced by the heiress. 
 
 Luncheon was barely over when the horses 
 came out for the Cup race. As it was for 
 two miles_, Colonel Halkett suggested a walk 
 to the starting-point. The party divided 
 again. Nadine, piloted by Colonel Halkett, 
 moved on ahead_, and Mrs. Bartelotte fell_, for 
 the time being, to Dr. Bramwell. She called 
 him to task for his moody manner, and 
 requested that if he had any more new 
 theories about diseases and such-like horrid 
 matters, he would ponder them in his 
 consulting-room, and not on a racecourse. 
 
 " I detest doctors/^ she remarked, with her 
 usual frankness. " If you weren't so charm- 
 ing, upon occasions, and if every one didn^t 
 say you were going to be another Harvey or
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. I05 
 
 Jenner, I should have nothing to say to yon. 
 But come now, I don't believe it's science 
 that is absorbing you. You seem dreadfully 
 out of sorts. If my husband looked as glum 
 as you do I should just suspect that he 
 had backed Potboy to a pretty considerable 
 amount; and my deduction from that would 
 be domestic squalls, and a row over my 
 milliner's bill. But betting isn't your weak- 
 ness. H'm, I know what is. Don't you 
 think that I've lived all these years in the 
 world for nothing ! You should not let a 
 married man run off with your young lady. 
 There is a wife in the background, though, 
 perhaps, you aren't aware of the fact. Few 
 people are. Confess. Aren't you dying to 
 be in Colonel Halkett's shoes at this present 
 moment ? "
 
 I06 NADINE. 
 
 *^No/^ answered Bramwell. mastering him- 
 self witli a great effort, '^ for if the state of his 
 heart is what you suppose it to be_, neither 
 his position or his feelings can be at all 
 enviable/' 
 
 Mrs. Bartelotte shrugged her shoulders 
 with pretty affectation. 
 
 *"' You look down from a pedestal upon 
 the world in general. I thought that the 
 impossibility of marriage was the crowning 
 attraction of being in love. Anyhow, that's 
 what erotic philosophers tell us. We treat 
 our passions kindly in real life. Dr. Bramwell; 
 it's only in novels that they are torn to 
 tatters. But unless I'm greatly mistaken, 
 Colonel Jack has other fish to fry to-day 
 besides sentimental ones; and if Miss Mary 
 does not run up to her form for the Cup he
 
 THE HISSING OF SEEPENTS. 10/ 
 
 will go back to Croxliam a sadder and a 
 poorer man. I'm immensely curious about 
 the result of tliis race from a psychological 
 as well as a pecuniary point of view_, tbougli I 
 know that you won't sympathize witli me^ for 
 you liave a sovereign contempt for everything 
 that is interesting and uncanny." 
 
 ^^ By no manner of means, Mrs. Bartelotte, 
 for you are interesting, though I hope you are 
 not uncanny.''^ 
 
 Bramwell could have jeered at himself as 
 he uttered the bald compliment. 
 
 '^ Well, I guess you are getting on/' said 
 Mrs. Bartelotte approvingly. ''^At this rate, 
 and by dint of practising on me, you^U be a 
 match for Colonel Halkett himself Now let 
 me tell you, though I must say it sounds very 
 silly, Mr. Ormthwaite has had a dream about
 
 I08 NADINE. 
 
 the winner of the Cup, which he confided to 
 me on the drag coming here. You wouldn't 
 take him for a Joseph, would you ? but it 
 doesn't do to judge by appearances. ?He 
 dreamed last night that the race was won by 
 an outsider — out of the betting altogether — 
 called Abatos." 
 
 They had reached the starting- place, and 
 Colonel Halkett, who had caught Mrs. Barte- 
 lotte's last words, turned' laughingl}^ round. 
 
 ^'^I wouldn't advise you to lay long odds 
 against Miss Mary, Mrs. Bartelotte, on the 
 strength of Jem Ormthwaite's prophetic 
 vision. He was heard to declare last night 
 that curried prawns invariably gave him the 
 nightmare; and I can vouch for three brandies 
 and sodas in the smoking-room. Allah is 
 great, but Jem Ormthwaite is not his prophet.
 
 THE HISSING OF SERPENTS. IO9 
 
 Besides, there isn't a horse of that outlandish 
 name on the card/' 
 
 " Ah ! that is jnst where the dream begins 
 to fulfil itself/' cried Mrs. Bartelotte excitedly. 
 "Lord Alsager has found out on excellent 
 authority — don't smile in that jeering way, 
 it's one of the trainers — that Bevis, the last 
 one down on the list, was so christened, and 
 his name had to be changed because one of 
 the grooms being called Abbott, the horse was 
 always known as ^ Abbott's 'oss.' There ! 
 what do you say to that ? I've given all my 
 friends the straight tip, and you might have 
 profited by my warning. Colonel Halkett, and 
 hedged an hour ago." 
 
 Colonel Halkett laughed again. 
 
 " You and I, Mrs. Bartelotte," he said, 
 '' have the true gambler's instinct. Don't be
 
 no NADINE. 
 
 surprised to hear that I liave staked my all on 
 Abatos ; '^ and Mrs. Bartelotte had presently 
 to bear a considerable amount of cliaff upon 
 ber development of Jem Ormtbwaite^s latent 
 mystical capabilities. 
 
 The horses gathered in line ; and after one 
 or two false starts^ were fairly off, Miss Mary 
 leading. Now, set in the rush back to the 
 Stand. Colonel Halkett's excitement was 
 evident_, in spite of bis -ejfforts to 'conceal it; 
 and Mrs. Bartelotte bad ber private reasons 
 for anxiety. In tbe meUe tbey found tbem- 
 selves in advance together. Nadine Senguin, 
 wbo bad lingered, cast a glance, half-inviting, 
 half- appealing, towards Dr. Bramwell. He 
 pressed tbrougb tbe tbin stream till be 
 reacbed ber side. Tbe wave rolled on. Tbey 
 two were left, practically alone.
 
 BEVIS WINS. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BEVIS WINS. 
 
 "I DON^T want to see this race/^ exclaimed 
 Nadine. " I hate racing. I hate crowds and 
 excitement. The whole thing is sickening : it 
 is a raree-show, where we are like puppets 
 dressed up, each with a part to act; and we 
 must smile and pretend to be happy when our 
 hearts are aching with pain. . . . Did you 
 listen to Mrs. Bartelotte's story about Mr. 
 Ormthwaite^s dream ? I'm beginning to 
 believe that Croxham is an uncanny place. 
 Last night I had a horrible dream. I dreamed
 
 1 1 2 NADINE. 
 
 that I was the White Lady who haunts the 
 long corridor, and that like her, I was 
 doomed to perpetual unrest in expiation of 
 some terrible crime that I had committed in 
 the far past. On, on, up and down, pacing 
 for ever — always weighed down by this ghastly 
 burden of secret sin ! Ah me ! Do you 
 know what it is to wake at night and to feel 
 ghostly hands clutching you, and to strive 
 with soul and might to escape, and then to 
 realize that you are alone — alone — and that the 
 spectres are your own hideous fancies and evil 
 desires? Dr. Bramwell," she added in a quieter 
 tone, " I suppose that there is a place near 
 where you can buy drugs. I want you to get 
 me something which will send me into a 
 sound dreamless sleep — if only for one night.'' 
 Her haggard looks^for her face seemed to
 
 BEVIS WINS. 113 
 
 have grown in a moment old and withered 
 — and her excited words confirmed all Bram- 
 well's torturing suspicions. His eyes fixed 
 themselves upon her in deep^ despairing 
 solicitude. He uttered a heavy groan. 
 
 *' What is it ? '^ she asked with sudden 
 sweetness, bending towards him, and gently 
 touching his arm. '^ I make you unhappy, 
 and I do not want to do that. I am not 
 worth troubling about. Don't mind me; my 
 nerves are overstrained.'' 
 
 '^ You do care whether I am unhappy ? '' he 
 asked brusquely. 
 
 " Yes, indeed I do ; it distresses me. Your 
 face is my conscience. It has made me 
 hate myself —hate everything around me. At 
 luncheon you seemed to me like the skeleton 
 at the Egyptian feast.'' 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 1 14 N A DINE. 
 
 ^' Oh, Nadine ! '■' exclaimed Dr. Bramwell 
 impulsively; "it would be kinder far if you 
 told me tliat my feelings were nothing to 
 you/' 
 
 " I know that it would/' she answered 
 sadly, " but it would not be true. Have you 
 not often told me that truth is the one good 
 thing ? I wish to be honest — sometimes, I 
 am not indifferent to you ; you affect me 
 strongly.'^ 
 
 They stood silent for several moments. 
 Though her voice had been knell-like, and 
 though his better judgment assured him that 
 his anguish and love were poured forth to no 
 purpose, a ray of hope entered his heart. 
 
 " I am glad/' he said, " that you have 
 given me this opportunity of speaking to jou, 
 for I have something serious to say."
 
 BEVIS WINS. 115 
 
 " I hope tliat this does not imply an infringe- 
 ment of our compact/^ she replied, with grave 
 coldness. 
 
 " No ; it concerns you — " He paused. 
 
 " Well ! what is it ? '' she asked defiantly. 
 '' I am listening. But I warn you that I am 
 not in the same mood to-day as when we 
 talked last — a fortnight ago." 
 
 " Do I not know it ? Since then you have 
 come under another influence, and as it gains 
 strength mine wanes. Oh, Nadine ! " he cried 
 passionately, " at this moment, I would sacri- 
 fice all my hopes for the future to possess the 
 power of reading your thoughts. But I think 
 that I have found a clue to them ^' 
 
 " Remember," she interrupted haughtily, 
 
 " I have not given you permission to say 
 
 anything to me.'^ 
 
 I 2
 
 Il6 NADINE. 
 
 "Miss Senguin, the only right of speech 
 that I claim, is that of one to whom your 
 good name is sacred/' 
 
 " My good name ! '^ she repeated in a low 
 voice, and coloured all over. 
 
 He had never before seen so deep a blush ; 
 throat and ears were crimson. 
 
 '' Surely/' he continued, ^* that is imperilled 
 by the marked attentions of a man who 
 cannot marry you ! '^ - 
 
 Nadine grew pale, slowly, as the grey tinge 
 creeps over snow after sunset. 
 
 *^What? How—'' she faltered. '^ You 
 have not seen or heard anything since you 
 came to Croxham to — to give rise to such 
 thoughts ? '' 
 
 " Not an hour and a half ago, I heard your 
 relations with Colonel Halkett, possible and
 
 BEVIS WINS. 117 
 
 impossible^ discussed in the Grand Stand by 
 Lady Alsager and one of Halkett^s brother 
 officers. It was said that you loved him, 
 that he had won your hearty — villain that he 
 is ! — while you were unaware of the fact of 
 his marriage, that — but I cannot repeat the 
 slanderous insinuations/' 
 
 Nadine did not immediately reply, but 
 stood, with face downcast, meditatively raking 
 the ground with her parasol. Presently she 
 said, quite coldly — 
 
 ^' If you listen seriously to the gossip of 
 L'ady Alsager and her set you will believe 
 a great deal that is totally untrue." 
 
 "Nevertheless,'* rejoined Bramwell hotly, 
 "it is cruelly compromising to a beautiful 
 and comparatively unprotected girl.'' 
 
 "I fancied," she said, with a swift glaiico
 
 I 1 8 NADINE. 
 
 at liis face, " tliat you were one of the few 
 righteous men who don't measure by the 
 .standard of conventionality, and who have 
 the courage to affirm that white-washed vice 
 is not morality." 
 
 " There are some things/' said Bramwell, 
 hesitatingly, "in which private and conven- 
 tional judgment must be identical." 
 
 She coloured again. At this moment the 
 horses, veins quivering, flanks streaming, flew 
 past the second time. Four were almost in 
 a cluster, two neck and neck. It was a fine 
 race ; riders bent almost double, every nerve 
 on the stretch, hands tense, faces grim with 
 anxiety. The roar of voices round the Stand 
 became hoarser and more deafening ; when 
 above the confused tumult rose the shout, 
 " Bevis wins ; " *' The outsider has it." But
 
 BEVIS WINS. 119 
 
 in spite of Nadine's assertion that she did 
 not wish to see the race, Bramwell perceived 
 that her frame was trembling with suppressed 
 excitement. She moved eagerly forward 
 and leaned over the ropes ; her face changed, 
 her colour came and went, and her eyes fol- 
 lowed the horses with an intensity of gaze 
 that surprised and almost shocked him. 
 When the race was over she heaved a deep 
 sigh, as though some inward strain had 
 been removed. A smothered ejaculation fell 
 from her lips. To Bramwell it seemed like 
 an exclamation of despair. But she recovered 
 herself in a moment, and cried gaily, — 
 
 ^' Jem Ormthwaite is a true prophet. The 
 race has been run ; Miss Mary has come in 
 second. There's a triumph for the super- 
 stitious. Dr. Bramwell, does not this convert
 
 1 20 NADINE. 
 
 even a hardened sceptic like you to a belief in 
 occult forces ? Happy are they who backed 
 Abates. Come, let us go back and congratulate 
 the winners/* 
 
 But Dr. Bramwell detained her by an 
 appealing gesture. 
 
 "Nadine/' he cried^ "have you no word 
 of comfort for me ? I do not mean as regards 
 my own hopes. Let them remain blighted 
 and dead as though they had never bk)ssomed. 
 But you ! Oh, it is your pain that makes my 
 heart bleed. ... To know that you are suflfer- 
 ing, is anguish greater than I can bear. You 
 are on dangerous ground ; will you not fly from 
 it ? If Colonel Halkett has not the manliness 
 to leave you, will you not release yourself? '^ 
 
 Nadine seemed deeply moved by his appeal; 
 her eyes melted with tears, her lips trembled.
 
 BEVIS WINS. 12 
 
 ^^Oh!" she began, and a sob choked her 
 voice. . . . But a new mood seized her, and 
 she shook herself free from emotion. "Release 
 myself! From what ? The chain of this 
 degrading attachment ? " she cried^ and her 
 tone was metallic in its hardness. " What 
 right have you to suppose that I have any 
 such unworthy feeling, if indeed it be unworthy 
 to love a man whom Fate has placed beyond 
 the pale of happy marriage. Dr. Bramwel), I 
 could not have believed that you would take 
 this melodramatic view of a situation, common- 
 place enough. Must every girl whoui Colonel 
 Halkett honours or degrades by his attentions, 
 bear the stigma of having yielded to unlawful 
 passion ? One half of society speaks evil of the 
 other half, and one does not hear of tragic 
 consequences. Girls of the period are taught
 
 122 NADINE. 
 
 early to bridle their affections. As Mrs. Barte- 
 lotte remarked the other day, ^ Love resolves 
 itself into a question of keeping a carriage/ 
 And if Jack Halkett were free to-morrow, 
 he is too poor and too extra^.agant to think 
 of marrying — me. I have a strong vein of 
 worldliness in my compositioQ, and am in- 
 clined to philosophize on life ; the first axioms 
 of my creed are — nothing matters, nobody 
 cares. Ah, I am ungrateful to say that ; no 
 one cares — except you, and you only make 
 yourself unhappy by doing so. Try to dismiss 
 all these fancies from your mind. I wish it 
 to be at ease. ... Is it so — now ? " 
 
 Bramwell shook his head. 
 
 She looked ^t him, melancholy, anxiety, 
 and a certain repressed impatience blending 
 in her expression.
 
 BEVIS WINS. 123 
 
 "■ You know that I have a strong regard for 
 you. It pains me deeply to think that you 
 are troubled by false impressions about me.^' 
 
 " Oh, that I could believe them false ! But 
 your alternate fits of feverish gaiety and of 
 strange depression, your vague admissions, 
 the traces of mental tumult which I see so 
 plainly on your face, all confirm them/^ 
 
 '^ And you call yourself a clever physician, 
 and yet do not consider how easily a sensitive 
 nervous system may be disordered by several 
 wakeful nights, and the excitement of poker," 
 rejoined Miss Senguin with a forced laugh. 
 " I will not gamble this evening. Dr. Bram- 
 well, but will play all your favourite music 
 instead; it will, I hope, have a tranquillizing 
 effect upon us both. Then you shall give 
 me my dose of 'bottled happiness,' and
 
 124 NADINE. 
 
 to - morrow you will find me a different 
 person/^ 
 
 '' You are right/' said Dr. Bramwell mourn- 
 fully. '^ Where you are concerned I have no 
 insight, no knowledge. For you I am but' 
 a poor physician. You bewilder me. In 
 your many moods the real you escapes from 
 me. You are a mystery which my skill 
 cannot enable me to unravel. Latterly I 
 have become painfully conscious of this. You 
 have made me distrust my own powers. And 
 it is because I love you." 
 
 She stopped him with an imperative 
 gesture. 
 
 '^ No_, no more. Remember our compact. 
 I do not think that you will ever know the 
 real uie ; but the time may come, perhaps 
 will come shortly, when you will regard me
 
 BEVIS WINS. 125 
 
 with horror. If so, reflect that the woman 
 you love now is in every respect the same as 
 her whom you will hate then — in no way better 
 or worse. Possibly virtue and vice may then 
 seem to you mere things of comparison.-'^ 
 
 She walked on abruptly^ and hindered any 
 comment on his part upon her ambiguous 
 words by resolutely changing the subject to 
 inquiries concerning his Lonond practice and 
 plans for the future. 
 
 The occupants of the drag were all in a 
 state of excitement and self-gratulation. As 
 Nadine and Dr. Bramwell approached_, they 
 were greeted by a volley of reproaches for 
 having missed the race of the day. Miss 
 Senguin received cheerful condolences for her 
 heavy losses in gloves, and was advised to 
 seek consolation in the good fortune of her
 
 126 NADINE. 
 
 friends. Mrs. Bartelotte appeared radian ily 
 triumpliant. Jem Ormtliwaite and Colonel 
 Halkett were the heroes of the hour : the 
 former^ looking somewhat sheepish, was chaffed 
 without mercy, and implored to prophesy the 
 winner of the coming Derby; while Colonel 
 Halkett laughingly responded to the con- 
 gratulations showered upon him when it was 
 discovered that he had actually taken Mrs. 
 Bartelotte's advice and had backedr Sir Bevis, 
 otherwise Abatos, to such an extent that his 
 winnings effectually placed him beyond the 
 reproach of poverty. Though half ashamed of 
 his recklessness, he had exhibited an interest 
 in Miss Mary, and had thus misled the clever 
 little American lady. 
 
 Bramwell, standing aloof and taking no 
 part in the general felicitations upon this
 
 BEVIS WINS. 127 
 
 extraordinary CO itp, observed a long liand-clasp 
 and a lingering look exchanged between Colonel 
 Halkett and Miss Senguin; but presently the 
 former disappeared from the roof of the drag, 
 and was no more seen till the horses were 
 put to and the coarse was beginning to clear. 
 
 During the rest of the afternoon Nadine 
 was subdued, almost melancholy, and when 
 rallied upon her silence, could only bid her 
 persecutors remember that she had not backed 
 Sir Bevis. She seemed to show a wish to 
 avoid Halkett, insisted upon Mrs. Bartelotte 
 taking her seat in front, and placed herself 
 beside Dr. Bramwell. Her manner to him 
 during the drive home lost its tinge of defi- 
 ance, and was gentle even to tenderness : her 
 accents, as she conversed in the tentative 
 abstract manner which was one of her charms,
 
 128 NADINE. 
 
 low and suggestive ; lier eyes full of soft 
 gravity. This sweetness^ all m harmony with 
 the lengthening shadows^ the balmy air^ and 
 fragrance of the May-day, intoxicated Bram- 
 well, reason notwithstanding^ and thrilled hirfi 
 with dreamy happiness, which in turn changed 
 to hungry longing and passionate pain. 
 
 For minutes after her hand had been 
 released from his, when he helped her to 
 descend from the drag^ the impression of her 
 touch lingered, and his blood tingled at the 
 sense of imaginary contact. And her eyes 
 when they parted seeming to beseech his pity 
 and forbearance, stirred all his yearning, and 
 renewed belief in her truth and the nobility 
 of her nature. 
 
 She came down to dinner clothed in creamy 
 white, which seemed typical of her purity, a
 
 BEVIS WINS. 129 
 
 buncli of narcissus blown as it were upon her 
 bosom, her face pale, with wistful eyes and 
 gracious lips, and her dusky hair making a 
 shadowy background to the clear brow and 
 delicately cut features. She was allotted to 
 Bramwell, and her appealing look and whis- 
 pered entreaty, " Don't expect me to be gay 
 and amusing this evening/' seemed to estab- 
 lish a new claim upon his tenderness. The 
 spell was intensified when, later on, she seated 
 herself at the piano and played several of 
 Heller's dreamiest niiits blanches, then wan- 
 dered through one of Eaff's symphonies, and 
 finally, after two or three preluding chords of 
 grand dissonance, broke into Chopin's Marche 
 Funebre. 
 
 The stately measure filled the room and 
 stilled the murmur of conversation. Nadine's 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 1 30 NADINE. 
 
 eyes dilated^ her small head was bent slightly 
 backwards^ her lips were parted^ all her face 
 seemed instinct with the harmony she was 
 creating ; Mrs. Bartelotte's nasal laugh sound- 
 ing from the hall, where she sat commenting ' 
 upon the events of the day, was the only 
 jarring sound in the room. Colonel Halkett, 
 to whom she had been talking, abruptly 
 quitted her, and stood, a handsome figure, 
 against the slightly drawn yortUre, his eyes 
 
 intently fixed upon Miss Senguin. She 
 
 • 
 
 glanced towards him ; then her head drooped ; 
 she finished the march, hesitated a moment, 
 and when all expected her to rise, struck the 
 notes of a rippling accompaniment, lilting in 
 measure, but pitched in a minor key, so that 
 all through it ran a strain of sadness, and 
 sang in a manner plaintive yet arch, this little
 
 BEVIS WINS. 131 
 
 ballad of Edgar Allan Poe's, which she had 
 once set to music. 
 
 " Gaily bedight, 
 
 A gallant knight, 
 In sunshine and in shadow, 
 
 Had journeyed long, 
 
 Singing a song, 
 In search of El Dorado. 
 
 " But he grew old. 
 
 This knight so bold. 
 And o'er his heart a shadow 
 
 Fell, as he found 
 
 No spot of ground 
 That looked like El Dorado. 
 
 " And as his strength 
 
 Failed him, at length 
 He met a pilgrim shadow. 
 
 ' Shadow,' said he, 
 
 ' Where can it be. 
 This land of El Dorado ? ' 
 
 " ' Over the mountains 
 
 Of the moon, 
 Down the Valley of the Shadow, 
 
 Ride, boldly ride,' 
 
 Tlie Shade replied, 
 ' If you seek for El Dorado.' " 
 
 K 2
 
 132 NADINE. 
 
 The last verse was given fortli in a manner 
 at once playful, defiant, and despairing. A 
 moment's silence greeted its conclusion; then 
 followed a low murmur of applause. Nadine 
 left the piano, and presently the party began' 
 to disperse. It was getting late ; no one had 
 shown any inclination for the usual after- 
 dinner diversions; the card-tables were 
 deserted. The gentlemen had mostly broken 
 up into knots ; a cheerful clicking of balls 
 sounded from the billiard-room. The elder 
 ladies had retired, pleading fatigue; only a 
 small party of congenial spirits remained, 
 gathered now round the dying embers in the 
 hall, and moved partly by Nadine's fanciful 
 music, partly by some subtle sympathy — 
 some indefinable current of thought which 
 at times connects minds the most dissimilar —
 
 BEVIS WINS. 133 
 
 fell into fugitive, informal talk, toucliing sub- 
 jects often shrunk from in mere commonplace 
 discussion. 
 
 Nadine, followed by Bramwell, joined tlio 
 group, wliicli already included Colonel Halkett, 
 and seated berself in a large, carved arm-cliair 
 a little apart from tlie rest. 
 
 A rose-sTiaded crystal globe sbed a subdued 
 ligbt upon tbe scene, and, after the manner 
 of balf-illumination, brought into relief upon 
 the oak carving above the fireplace, grotesque 
 heads and curious tracery, and showed upon 
 the tapestry quaint mediaeval figures — warriors 
 in ill-jointed armour, mounted upon lean 
 steeds of sickly colours, and ladies in ruffs 
 and farthingales, contrasting strangely with 
 the bright faces and modern toilettes to which 
 they formed the background.
 
 134 NADINE. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. 
 
 Mrs. BartelottEj who had been admiringly 
 contemplating the tips of her daintily shod 
 feet and the bugles which ornamented her 
 dress, looked up suddenly, and gave a little 
 shiver. 
 
 '^ Did you ever read a story of Hans Ander. 
 son^s/^ she remarked, ''in which the dream- 
 shadows chase each other on the wall, and 
 invite the thoughts of the lords and ladies ? 
 I alwaj^s considered that a real practical idea. 
 Why shouldn't dreaming be cultivated as a
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. 1 35 
 
 science ? Dr. Bramwell, there's something 
 for a clever man like you to think about. 
 Well, I must say that I hope somebody will 
 be prophetically inspired to-night^ for at th^'s 
 rate I shall soon pay off all my dressmaker's 
 bills. Mr. Dormer, I must really beg you 
 to take care that our Joseph is not exposed 
 this evening to coarse and antagonistic in- 
 fluences. Pv€ always understood that there 
 was a great deal in influence. Fm sure that 
 JVe been doing my best to elevate his soul ; 
 and I must say that I don't consider billiards 
 and brandies and sodas, and the sort of con- 
 versation that goes on in the smoking-room 
 after we are in bed, at all stimulating to the 
 spiritual faculties. Oh, we are all becoming 
 quite mystical. Here's Colonel Halkett, who 
 has been holding forth about elective affinities.
 
 1 36 NADINE. 
 
 moral magnetism, mysterious sympathies, 
 clairvoyance, and all the rest of it, till I have 
 begun to feel quite squirmy. I guess it's 
 something in the air of the house, Mr. Dormer 5 
 and if Mr. Ormthwaite, or any one else, names 
 the winner of the Stakes to-morrow morning, 
 I think that the least we can do is to tender 
 a vote of thanks to the Croxham ghosts. 
 Now, would it be putting an insult upon 
 your great great grandmother, if we were to 
 call her up from the vasty deep — or rather, 
 down from the corridor, and ask her help 
 in regulating our betting-books ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't advise you to trifle with the 
 White Lady, Mrs. Bartelotte,'' replied the 
 host, with an air of gravity. " Do you know 
 the legend ? It is said that the lover of a 
 certain Lady of Croxham was once foully
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. 1 37 
 
 murdered in her presence, in one of the 
 chambers of the west wing. Since then^ the 
 story goes_, whenever a guest dies at Croxham 
 — an events as you may imagine, of rare 
 occurrence — footsteps and strange muffled 
 sounds are heard in the corridor, and the 
 phantom figure of a woman in white is seen to 
 move slowdy, and as if with difficulty^ dragging 
 behind her a shadowy, vaguely- defined form, 
 supposed to be the body of a man. She 
 pauses for an instant at the door of the 
 doomed person, knocks, and disappears. ^^ 
 
 ^'Oh my!'' cried Mrs. Bartelotte. '' 1 
 reckon we'll let that ghost of your great 
 great grandmother alone, Mr. Dormer. And, 
 by the way, I hope none of us are going to 
 leave our bones at Croxham. I woke up last 
 night, or rather this morning, between three
 
 138 NADINE. 
 
 and four o^clock, and I am certain that I 
 heard stealthy footsteps in the corridor. I 
 should have got up to look if I hadn^t been 
 so sleepy. See how you have frightened Miss 
 Senguin ; she is as white as though she were 
 going to faint." 
 
 Every glance turned towards Nadine. She 
 was leaning forward, her eyes dilated, her 
 lips parted in an unconscious expression of 
 fear, her face ghastly pale. Regaining com- 
 posure with an evident effort, she said — 
 
 ^^ It is nothing. I have got into the habit 
 of sleeping badly, and such stories take hold 
 of my nerves.^' 
 
 "Talking of haunted houses/^ said Colonel 
 Halkett, breaking abruptly into the circle 
 round the fire. "Have you heard the latest 
 solution of the Carnwarth Castle mystery ?
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. 1 39 
 
 It is ingenious, if nothing else. They say 
 that several hundreds of years ago^ the wife 
 of an Earl of Carnwarth, a lady of evil repute^ 
 popularly described as the Witch of Fife,, gave 
 birth to a monstrosity — half-toad^ half-man. 
 Ths longevity of the toad species is a matter 
 of natural history. This creature,, protected 
 by the spells of his mother^ the most malevo- 
 lent spirit in the Castle^ is the occupant of the 
 mysterious chamber^ and the rightful Earl of 
 Carnwarth." 
 
 In the buzz of comment with which Colonel 
 Halkett^s story was received, the impression 
 made upon Nadine by the Legend of the 
 White Lady of Croxham was forgotten, and 
 conversation drifted towards the subjects of 
 apparitions, of dual existence, hallucinations^, 
 and kindred topics.
 
 140 NADINE. 
 
 The late Lord Lytton was quoted as an 
 exponent of the theory of AWE, and almost 
 each member of the party had some history 
 to relate of individual excursion into the fields 
 of mysticism. Dr. Bramwell was assailed as 
 a sceptic in all that appertains to the occult 
 and transcendental. Nadine Senguin's eyes 
 seemed to implore him to divert the current 
 of talk from the personal channel in which 
 it now flowed. 
 
 '^Surely/' said Mrs. Dormer, "you must 
 admit the reality of certain psychological 
 experiences common to many of us, which 
 cannot be explained by natural law." 
 
 "Ah!^^ said Dr. Bramwell, smiling, "the 
 materialist is popularly accused of arrogauce 
 and narrow-mindedness, but, in fact, quite the 
 contrary is the case. It is the supernaturalist
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. I4I 
 
 who limits his belief in the operations of 
 nature by the evidence of his own senses, 
 and compelled to supply deficiencies, presup- 
 poses the existence of arbitrary spiritual 
 agencies, with which reason must be more 
 or less at variance. To the scientist who 
 regards natural law as a continuous and 
 ever more complex chain of cause and eflPect, 
 of condition and result, the explanation of 
 psychological phenomena by the working of 
 physical forces, appears no more impossible 
 and no less wonderful than the promulgation 
 of disease by the action of germs, or the 
 confinement of mind in grey matter. 
 
 " What is matter ? Never mind. What is 
 mind? No matter," parenthetically observed 
 Mr. Deodatus Lumley. 
 
 '' Oh dear ! " sighed Mrs. Bartelotte. '' Since
 
 142 nadine; 
 
 we are all agreed that everything is a mystery, 
 whereas the use of arguing about it ? But 
 I must tell you that I have a very poor opinion 
 of your philosophy, Dr. Bramwell, and I think 
 you deserve to encounter a specially malevolent' 
 ghost as a punishment for your unbelief/' 
 
 " At any rate," added Mr. Dormer, " we 
 will not be so cruel as to hope that the White 
 Lady may pay him a visit to-night in order 
 that he may have proof- positive of* the spirit 
 world/' 
 
 **I think/' said Mrs. Dormer, thoughtfully, 
 that many curious things might be accounted 
 for on the supposition that there is a kind of 
 moral electricity which pervades nature and 
 life, and under certain conditions brings 
 people into unconscious rapport with each 
 other. We know how the nerves may vibrate
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. 1 43 
 
 like the strings of a sensitive instrument, and 
 the mind be filled with strange fugitive 
 fancies, unreal, yet vivid impressions, by 
 some indefinable outward agency ; the sigh- 
 ing of a south wind, the scent of a flower^ 
 the refrain of a song. We know the subtle 
 sympathy which before receiving a letter from 
 one with whom our soul has been in com- 
 munion, causes us to be haunted, waking 
 and dreaming by thoughts and images of 
 that person. . . . This was at one time a 
 common experience with me. . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Dormer sighed involuntarily, and a 
 vaguely embarrassing consciousness fell upon 
 the group. It was known to one or two in- 
 timate friends, and suspected by others, that 
 the force of her nature had expended itself 
 in a strong intellectual attachment to a
 
 144 NADINE. 
 
 gentleman of rare attainments, who liad died 
 some few years before. 
 
 ^^ I will tell you something which partly 
 illustrates what I mean/' Mrs. Dormer added, 
 hurriedly. ^^As this experience is my own/ 
 you may take it honestly for what it is worth. 
 The oddest point in it, is its total absence of 
 point. ^^ She laughed and continued — 
 
 ^'^You know how fond my husband is of 
 running up to London, for the day, leaving 
 his dog-cart at Brayshill, and driving himself 
 home, so that he is not tied by any particular 
 arrangement. Upon the occasion to which 
 I am referring, he went up on a day when we 
 were expecting friends to dine and sleep, 
 and without having inquired his plans, I had 
 taken it for granted that he would return by 
 the train which brouo^ht them. An hour or so
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. 1 45 
 
 before the time at whicli I supposed he would 
 arrive I was sitting at my boudoir window, — ■ 
 you will remember that it overlooks the back 
 entrance, — when, glancing suddenly down, I 
 saw Harry in the dog-cart drive round by 
 the sweep which leads into the stable-yard 
 and disappear within the gates. As he 
 turned, he looked up, and laughingly shook 
 his whip at me, while I nodded and waved 
 my hand in return, then went on with my 
 work; concluding, as he did not come up- 
 stairs, that he had been detained in conversa- 
 tion with the coachman, or had gone straight 
 to his own study. 
 
 But when on the arrival of our guests he 
 did not appear, and when on inquiring I 
 found that he had not been seen, and that 
 there was neither horse nor dog- cart in the 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 NADINE. 
 
 stable^ I began to feel alarmed, though I 
 tried to hide my anxiety, and after waiting 
 dinner for half an hour, ordered it to be 
 served without my husband. Just as we 
 had finished the dog-cart did drive up, and " 
 Harry rushed in, full of apologies, and rather 
 hesitatingly explained the cause of his late 
 arrival. 
 
 ^^'1 fully intended to come down by the 
 train before yours,' he, said to one of our 
 guests, ^ and am ashamed to confess that, 
 having a few minutes to spare at Clapham, 
 I went into the waiting-room and fell fast 
 asleep on one of the settees. The extra- 
 ordinary thing is, that when I awoke I could 
 not at first divest myself of the notion that 
 I was lying on my own sofa in the smoking- 
 room, for I had the most singularly vivid
 
 THE BORDER-LAND OF THE INVISIBLE. 1 4/ 
 
 impression of having accoraplished the journey, 
 remembering the minutest detail, even to the 
 fact of driving in at my back gate^ and of 
 seeing my wife at her boudoir window, shak- 
 ing my whip at her^ and receiving a nod 
 and a wave of the hand in return/ 
 
 " Now," concluded Mrs. Dormer^ '^ if any- 
 thing had happened to Harry that evening 
 the occurrence would have been considered 
 a supernatural warning. As it is, the whole 
 thing is motiveless, inexplicable — the fact 
 of an apparition without its raison d'etre.'^ 
 
 Just then several of the billiard-players 
 entered, and the conversation was moment- 
 arily diverted. Miss Senguin rose abruptly 
 and addressed her hostess. 
 
 '' Our talk has been extremely eerie, and I 
 am afraid that 1 shall not sleep if I listen 
 
 L 2
 
 1 48 NADINE. 
 
 to any more like it. Good night, dear," in 
 a half whisper; ''1 don^t think that I am 
 up to 'curling paper' confidences. Mrs. 
 Bartelotte, I hope the ghosts won't revenge 
 themselves upon us for discussing them so 
 lightly by whispering the name of the wrong 
 horse in Mr. Ormthwaite^s ear. ' Colonel 
 Halkett, I wish you happy dreams of your 
 good fortune. You at least have found El 
 Dorado to-day." 
 
 As she spoke, pausing opposite him, 
 whether by accident or design, the bunch 
 of narcissus that she wore fell at Colonel 
 Halkett' s feet. A look was interchanged 
 between them. Bramwell, as he held back 
 the heavy curtain which partly veiled the 
 staircase, observed the glance, and his heart 
 contracted with a spasm of pain. He gave
 
 THE BORDER-LAXD OF THE IXVISIBLE. 1 49 
 
 Nadine her caudle and let the curtain fall 
 behind them. 
 
 ^' Have you got me my flacon of bliss ? '' 
 she asked^ oifering him her hand. 
 
 '' I have given it to your maid/^ he replied 
 gravely ; and added, not without a tinge of 
 bitterness in his tone, " I hope that you will 
 sleep well, and awaken in a more happy mood.^' 
 
 She gave him a look in which anger and 
 defiance seemed to mingle. 
 
 '' Oh, Nadine ! ^' murmured Bramwell ; but 
 she shook her head with a peremptory 
 gesture, and without another word .ascended 
 the staircase, and passed into the long corri- 
 dor upon which most of the bed-rooms opened. 
 Racked by pain and perplexity, he watched 
 the last flutter of her white di'ess, then 
 turned to encounter the rest of the
 
 50 NADINE. 
 
 party filing out from the inner hall^ Mrs. 
 Bartelotte in advance discoursing volubly, 
 and Colonel Halkett lingering to give some 
 directions to the butler about being called 
 a little earlier than usual, as he had some 
 important letters to write before breakfast.
 
 THE PHANTOM IN THE CORRIDOR. I51 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PHANTOM IN THE COERIDOR. 
 
 It was one o^clock when the men began to 
 leave the smoking-room, half-past one before 
 all sounds were hushed in the house, and 
 Bramwell, released by his host, found himself 
 alone in his chamber. 
 
 The potion which he had been at some 
 pains to procure for Miss Senguin, he might 
 with advantage have administered to himself, 
 for never had he felt more restless or dis- 
 inclined for repose. He threw himself in a 
 large arm-chair, and remained for some time
 
 152 NADINE. 
 
 lost in bitter and fruitless reverie, his mind 
 working in vivid images of !N^adine_, which 
 presented her by turns alluring and repellent, 
 candid and inscrutable, and that tortured 
 while they excited him to keener longing. 
 
 Hours passed. The stillness of the chamber 
 was palpable, oppressive; yet there was 
 tumult in BramwelFs soul. Hungry passion 
 stirred in him ; it was like a life within his 
 own ; it beset him ; he could not be tranquil. 
 Now he opened the window and gazed out- 
 ward. A bank of ebon clouds lay heavy 
 in the west. The wind had risen, and moaned 
 sullenly, seeming to herald a gale. Masses 
 of murky vapour veiled the heavens ; every 
 now and then, the moon severed them, and 
 broke forth, a clear, full orb, gleaming pale, 
 and imparting an unearthly radiance to the
 
 THE PHANTOM IN THE CORRIDOR. 1 53 
 
 swaying beeches and stretch of lawn^ and to 
 the grey stone walls of the wings that rose 
 on either side of the central building where 
 Bramwell stood. Momentarily, almost, the 
 pallid light illuminated the scene, then all 
 was blackness, sable folds closed ; balustrade, 
 parterre, and silvery streak of ornamental 
 water vanished in the night. 
 
 The clock in the turret struck half-past 
 three. 
 
 Whence came this troubled sense of 
 presentiment and of strange, anxious ex- 
 pectancy, this vividness of impression and 
 quickening of ideational and emotional 
 activity ? 
 
 Bramwell felt himself to be in an abnormal 
 condition of brain and perception, resembling 
 almost the recurrent fantasia and depression
 
 154 NADINE. 
 
 produced by nervine stimulant — recognized 
 tlie fact_, yet was unable to assign it to any 
 given cause save tlie tension of anxiety and 
 love for Nadine, and yielded bimself with 
 hardly a struggle to the sensation of unreality, 
 and of ripeness for any curious or psycholo- 
 gical experience, which was stealing over him 
 and subduing his materialism. 
 
 Minutes went on. The clock struck again 
 — four distinct strokes, each dropping slowly 
 like a knell. The wind had grown fiercer, 
 and rising in mournful swell and gusty 
 cadence, seemed the wail of approaching 
 disaster. A deadly chilliness was borne upon 
 the blast. Bramwell shivered and closed the 
 window. As he did so a sudden gust extin- 
 guished the candles which had been placed 
 lighted upon his dressing-table. Save for a
 
 THE PHANTOM IN THE CORRIDOR. 1 55 
 
 feeble glow sKed by the dying fire, the room 
 was in darkness. 
 
 He groped for matches, but uncertainly. 
 The room appeared full of shadows. A fitful 
 flame leaped up, and died, and leaped again. 
 He paused. . . . Hark ! Was that a sound 
 in the corridor, or was it the wind, or was 
 it his own fancy ? . . . 
 
 The impression of unreality deepened. He 
 might have been thinking, feeling, listening in 
 a dream. Was he in a dream ? Suddenly his 
 being became merged in one of those transi- 
 tory phases of consciousness to which many 
 persons are liable, but which he had never 
 known. Scene and condition of existence were 
 recognized — instantaneously, evanescently — as 
 an experience of the past. The dim room, the 
 dusky drapery, the moan of the blast, almost
 
 156 NADIXE. 
 
 drowning that other protracted roll which had 
 caught his ear^ the flickering flame, a streak 
 of moonlight that fell through the aperture 
 of an imperfectly closed shutter and defined 
 in its milky track the pattern of carpet and 
 shape of chair, the fantastic tumult within 
 his brain — all seemed to have sunk at some 
 former time into memory, and to have revived 
 now with the swiftness of lightning, bearing 
 for the second during which the intmtion 
 lasted, a wondrous prevision and mysterious 
 expectancy. 
 
 And still, as in a dream, he knew that the 
 sound — heavy, halting, mufiled, as of a mas- 
 sive substance dragged with difficulty along 
 some dull and unresonant surface — advanced, 
 proceeding down the corridor, and drawing 
 nearer to the door of his room.
 
 THE PHANTOM IN THE COnRIDOR. 1 57 
 
 Tlien^ not iu the nature of inspiration_, but 
 as if the idea had been long familiar, and were 
 incorporate with that weird state of conscious- 
 ness, the legend of the Lady of Croxham 
 took possession of his mind; and while 
 underlying the illusive reality, there was an 
 incongruous sense of possible deception or 
 hallucination, and of the necessity for main- 
 taining composure, Bramwell, his nerves 
 quivering, waited and listened. 
 
 The noise deepened, becoming ever}^ instant 
 more distinct — a painful trailing, with at 
 intervals, a pause or suggestion of spasmodic 
 motion, as though progress were laborious; 
 now silence; now the sound of accelerated 
 speed, as hurried in a more intense access of 
 energy, IT passed his room. 
 
 There was no ghostly signal.
 
 i,S NADINE. 
 
 At tlie moment, Brarawell knew nob 
 whetlier lie himself opened tlie door of his 
 chamber, or whether what he saw were a 
 vision, created by his quickened imagination, 
 or the phantom of a dream in which he acted, 
 unconscious that he slept. 
 
 Before him, at the distance of a few paces, 
 there moved in the dimness, what appeared 
 to be the slender, white-clad form of a 
 woman. Her shoulders . were shrouded in 
 falling hair; her face was turned sideways, 
 her figure bent in a semi-crouching posture ; 
 while her two white hands grasped a recum- 
 bent mass, the apparently lifeless body of a 
 man, which she half dragged, half supported, 
 in her struggling movement towards a dim 
 barrier that rose before her in the shape 
 of a green baize partition dividing the long
 
 THE PHANTOM IN THE CORRIDOR. 1 59 
 
 corridor and cutting ofif the rooms at the 
 further end. 
 
 Here, the shape, corporeal or incorporeal, 
 paused. It turned, straining wildly at its 
 burden with a gesture of seeming despair, 
 and Bramwell discerned a white featureless 
 mask, and the contour of neck and uplifted 
 chin. 
 
 The corridor was almost in darkness, every 
 lamp extinguished, the shutters barred. One 
 window only, had by freak or inadvertence 
 been left unclosed, and was shrouded by a 
 swaying curtain, through which the moon, in 
 her fitful flashes, shed a pale glimmer. Sud- 
 denly, either the draught from ths opened 
 baize door or a sharper gust of wind blew 
 aside the heavy drapery. 
 
 A silvery ray streamed full across the
 
 l60 NADINE. 
 
 apparition_, and bathed in pale phosphor- 
 escence a woraan^s face^ — bloodless^ the 
 features transfixed by terror indescribable^ the 
 eyes wild and glassy, the lips parted, — and 
 shone upon tense white arms and rigid fingers, 
 upon which was the glitter of diamonds — 
 fingers that were contracted in an agony of 
 eflPort, as by a strength almost superhuman the 
 body was hurled through the opening. 
 
 There was a swift flash, and the clan^ of 
 a fallen trinket rebounding from the wall ; 
 the door closed behind the figure ; the curtain 
 swung back ; the corridor was again wrapped 
 in gloom. 
 
 A nameless horror gripped Bramwell. . . . 
 Those lips ! those eyes ! Was he mad ? was 
 he dreaming ? or had he gazed upon the 
 face of Nadine Senguin ?
 
 THE PHANTOM IN THE CORRIDOR. l6l 
 
 With a smothered ejaculation he darted 
 forward; but in his bewilderment and in 
 the darkness he struck his forehead sharply 
 against the lintel of the doorway and stag- 
 gered back, for the moment almost stunned 
 by the blow. When he had reached the 
 baize portal, and had flung it open, nothing 
 but blank darkness was before him. 
 
 Had the shape, woman, or phantom, disap- 
 peared into one of the rooms beyond ? He 
 tried each door in succession : all were closely 
 fastened; no ray of light or sound of voice 
 or movement betrayed human occupancy. 
 
 Dazed, shaken, distrustful of his very 
 senses, Bramwell groped his way back to- 
 wards his own room. As he passed the baize 
 barrier, again the curtain was stirred, and for 
 a second the moon shone through the opening 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 " NADINE. 
 
 and caught the gleam of a quaint, heart- 
 shaped diamond ring that lay upon the carpet. 
 Involuntarily Bramwell stooped and picked 
 up the ornament. Without pausing to ex- 
 amine it, and in the confusion of his brain 
 hardly connecting it with the vision he had 
 witnessed, he thrust it into his breast, gained 
 his chamber, and there, overcome by horrible 
 and undefinable dread, he, the man of iron 
 nerve, the materialist, the philosopher, .sank 
 back in a stupor of semi-unconsciousness.
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 1 63 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 
 
 About lialf-past eight tlie following morn- 
 ing Bramwell was awakened from tlie troubled 
 sleep into whicli lie had fallen by a hurried 
 knocking at the door of his room_, and started 
 from his chair to confront Harry Dormer, who, 
 with his usually cheerful countenance pale 
 and ominously grave, rushed in, exclaiming 
 in agitated tones, — 
 
 *' Bramwell, get up ! You are wanted 
 
 immediately. Get up, man! What! you are 
 
 dressed ! You have not been in bed." 
 
 Dormer scanned the haggard face, looking 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 NADINE.' 
 
 even more perturbed than his own, and the 
 disordered figure, still apparelled in evening 
 costume. 
 
 " Good God ! ^^ he cried, *^ do you know 
 anything of this terrible business ? '^ 
 
 The room seemed to swim before Bram- 
 well's eyes ; he staggered, and his hand 
 grasped nervously at the chair by his side. 
 Simultaneously with Dormer's ejaculation, 
 there rushed into his mind a clear recollection 
 of the events of the preceding night, but 
 whether as the remembrance of dream or of 
 actual fact he could not tell. A hideous 
 dread seized him icily; cold perspiration 
 stood upon his brow. ^^ What ? . . . Who ? " 
 he stammered. But in a moment he had re- 
 gained his habitual self-control, and answered 
 composedly, —
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 1 65 
 
 " I know nothing. Last night I was rest- 
 less and did not go to bed, but fell asleep 
 while I sat thinking over the fire. Tell me at 
 once what I can do. What has happened ? " 
 
 "A death, the most sudden — shocking; it 
 has utterly unnerved me. I don^t know how 
 I am to break the news to my wife. Not 
 many minutes ago Halkett's servant came 
 in to tell me that he had found his master 
 lying stone dead in his bed. You can imagine 
 the shock. I went into the room ; it was all 
 too true. You are the nearest doctor at hand. 
 I don^t suppose there is the least hope; but 
 come quickly and examine the — See if any- 
 thing can be done.'' 
 
 Wasting no further time in explanation, and 
 signing to Bramwell to follow him, Dormer 
 passed into the corridor and turned to the
 
 1 66 NADINE. 
 
 left towards the baize door^ which now stood 
 open, displaying a passage equal in length 
 to that through which they were hurrying, 
 and with rooms opening on to it on one side. 
 Housemaids had already been at their morn- 
 ing's work. The curtains were discreetly 
 folded back ; a flood of light poured through 
 the open windows, and sunbeams danced upon 
 the carpet. Bramwell gave an involuntary 
 shudder as, walking now -in the daylight to 
 face a known horror, the vivid, fantastic 
 impressions which had made the night 
 terrible returned to him with the force of 
 reality. He felt again that mysterious sense 
 of prescience, heard the moaning of the wind, 
 the muffled sound of dragging; beheld the 
 eerie flash of moonlight, the white clad shape 
 and Medusa- stricken face, so like and yet so
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 16/ 
 
 unlike that of Nadine; saw tlie struggling 
 hands and strained arms as, with a strength 
 surely transcending that of any frail girl, the 
 ghastly burden had been drawn into the dark- 
 ness beyond. Was this nightmare_, or had 
 the Lady of Croxham walked, in obedience 
 to her doom, and delivered her supernatural 
 warning ? 
 
 Mr. Dormer turned the handle of a door 
 not many paces beyond the baize barrier, and 
 they entered the chamber — the only one 
 occupied in that end of the corridor — which 
 had been assigned to Colonel Halkett. There 
 was in the room no appearance of disorder 
 suggestive of violence or tragedy. The dead 
 man's watch ticked upon the table beside a 
 heap of notes, loose gold, and silver. A 
 library novel lay half open, with a paper-
 
 1 68 NADINE. 
 
 cutter between its leaves. The curtains of 
 tlie bed were drawn^ the clothes folded 
 smoothly ; while the body lay in a natural 
 position, with its head turned sideways upon 
 the pilloWj and except for a certain rigidity 
 of feature and tenseness of nostril and eyelid, 
 the face might have been that of one in 
 peaceful sleep. 
 
 Dr. Bramwell felt the still pulse, and laid 
 his hand upon the unbeating heart, then 
 stepped back, saying gravely — 
 
 '' There is nothing to be done ; he is quite 
 dead.^^ 
 
 Dormer turned away, struggling with an 
 emotion of which the other showed no trace. 
 Neither spoke for a minute or two. Strange 
 thoughts stirred Bramwell as he stood in the 
 dead presence of the man whom he had
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 1 69 
 
 believed to be his rival. Afc last Dormer 
 said, — 
 
 '^ I must break this to my wife and to — to 
 Nadine Senguin.-'^ 
 
 ^' It would be best/^ said Dr. Bramwell, 
 speaking in a voice which even to himself 
 sounded hard and unnatural^ " that Mrs. 
 Dormer should send a note to Miss Senguin^s 
 room^ conveying to her gently the tidings of 
 what has happened. The shock of public 
 annouDcement would — might unnerve and 
 distress one so sensitive and easily wrought 
 upon.'^ 
 
 " You are thoughtful — and right/' answered 
 Mr. Dormer. " She and the poor fellow were 
 a great deal together. I sometimes fancied — 
 but every one knows what Jack Ilalkett was ; 
 and the story of his wretched marriage was
 
 I/O NADINE. 
 
 common property. Mrs. Dormer is fond of 
 saying that of all women in the world Nadine 
 Senguin is the one most capable of amusing 
 without compromising herself. Ah ! that 
 marriage was Halkett's undoing — the ruin 
 of his life ; never was there a more tender- 
 hearted creature or better fitted for domestic 
 happiness.^' 
 
 Dormer turned away and began pacing 
 the room^ while Bramw-ell bent in silent 
 examination of the dead body. 
 
 '^ What a man to be taken ofi* so suddenly/' 
 continued Dormer^ his habitual flippant loqua- 
 city^ which had been checked by the shock, 
 again awakened, and taking the form of 
 retrospect. *^ Good all round : a crack shot, 
 the best whip in England bar one, and as 
 straight a rider across country as ever
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. I/I 
 
 followed hounds. I shall never forget him, 
 on that raking bay of his, clearing the brook 
 at Burswell's Bottom. We shall miss him in 
 the iield this season. And what a good 
 fellow ! Men, women, and children all adored 
 him. Heart disease, I conclude. Nobody 
 suspected it ; he, I am certain, least of all. 
 Shall I leave you, Bramwell, or do you need 
 any assistance ? ^' 
 
 "'No/' answered Bramwell, ^^I would rather 
 be alone." 
 
 ^^You will find me in my dressing-room. 
 I suppose Jack^s brother ought to be tele- 
 graphed for at once ; and these people, or at 
 any rate the strangers, must be got away. 
 Good Lord ! have you ever heard of such a 
 melancholy conclusion to a racing party ? and 
 so jolly as we all were too ! IVe stopped the
 
 1/2 NADINE. 
 
 confounded servant's chatter. You remember 
 our chaff last night about the White Lady ? 
 Curious coincidence, wasn't it ? They've got 
 a story afloat already that a woman's figure 
 has been seen of late gliding along the corri- 
 dor about daylight in the morning. It is a 
 case of the carcase and the eagles. Where 
 sudden death is, there the gossips gather 
 together. I have a sad business before me. 
 I must go to my wife ;. and then there's 
 the clearing of the house. You'll stick to us, 
 Bramwell ; I couldn't stand a night here by 
 myself. 1 suppose that to-morrow there'll 
 be the inquest. Doctor, you may think me 
 shallow -hearted, but I declare that I'd give 
 my right hand to have Jack Halkett alive 
 among us again." 
 
 Dormer went away, and Bramwell was left
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 1 73 
 
 alone. When his examination was over he 
 proceeded to the dressing-room of his host to 
 deliver his report. There was no doubt as to 
 the manner of death. Colonel Halkett had 
 been suffering from disease of the heart of 
 long standing, which at any moment of undue 
 excitement or exertion might have suddenly 
 terminated life. The only ground for surprise 
 lay in the fact that death had taken place 
 during sleep, and not, as might have been 
 anticipated, in immediate consequence of 
 mental agitation or physical effort. 
 
 There was that morning something hushed 
 and ominous in the atmosphere at Croxham. 
 Blinds were drawn up-stairs. Servants talked 
 low together, and scared faces haunted the 
 corridor. By ten o^clock most of the guests 
 were aware that the most reckless spirit
 
 1 74 NADINE. 
 
 among them upon the previous day had but 
 a few hours since^ passed into the eternal 
 silence. Conjecture was rife; vague whispers 
 of suicide prevailed; mysterious rumours ran 
 through the house. Maids had each a 
 different tale to confide to their respective 
 mistresses. Alarm and confusion reigned; 
 and only Mrs. Dormer^ s pencilled request that 
 all would assemble as usual in the breakfast 
 room, prevented hurried departures, and a 
 general uncertainty in the minds of every 
 one as to whether presence or absence were 
 most desirable. 
 
 Great as was the shock to Mrs. Dormer, 
 for she had been fondly attached to Jack 
 Halkett, she bore herself bravely; stifled 
 her grief, and resolved that the exodus of 
 her guests should be rendered as little tryiug
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 1 75 
 
 as tlie unhappy circumstances would permit. 
 Trouble on another score also assailed her 
 mind. Her conscience, roused to activity 
 by Harry Dormer's suggestive lamentations 
 over the fate of his friend, accused her of 
 having indulged a seliBsh, cynical curiosity 
 and thoughtless disregard of calamitous 
 consequences, in her encouragement of the 
 intimacy between Halkett and Nadine. She 
 had credited the latter with considerable 
 callousness and worldly wisdom, her easy 
 belief being hardly warranted by her know- 
 ledge of the girVs character; and she now 
 felt qualms of terror as to the effect which 
 a sudden announcement of the late tragic 
 occurrence might possibly produce upon 
 Nadine. In an access of womanly tender- 
 ness, weeping, her heart soft with sympathy.
 
 1/6 NADINE. 
 
 Mrs. Dormer went herself to Nadine^s room, 
 nerved to meet reproaches and a display of 
 the most heart-rending emotion. But the 
 young girl greeted her friend calmly, and 
 received her statement with an apparent 
 frigidity which startled, but instead of 
 deceiving, was a revelation to Mrs. Dormer. 
 Nadine had by a supreme effort braced 
 herself to the part ; but she acted it too well. 
 Her composure was unnatural. The marble 
 quietude of her face, her dry, tearless eyes, 
 the fixity of her look, her forced voice and 
 measured comments, betrayed too surely the 
 pent-up anguish which her will held in such 
 merciless restraint. Mrs. Dormer admired 
 and wondered at her courage, pitying her 
 from the depths of her heart; and yet she 
 dared not show by word or sign that her
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 17/ 
 
 woman's instinct liad divined Nadine's secret. 
 The girPs stoicism was a mask whicli miglit 
 not be torn down, and at least it gave no 
 justification for Mrs. Dormer's self- upbraiding. 
 
 That lady's tears fell freely. Nadine 
 watched her, listening to the hysterical sobs, 
 her own lips firmly set_, the nails of her 
 tightly- clutched fingers tearing her pretty 
 palm, her eyes grim . and defiant. But if 
 they were dry, her heart was weeping blood. 
 At last Mrs. Dormer roused herself and said 
 falteringly, — 
 
 "Harry has telegraphed for Rupert Halkett. 
 Most of these people will go away, but you, 
 my dear, must remain of course, as we had 
 arranged, till it is time to leave for London. 
 Oh, I cannot bear to think of that now." 
 
 " No," answered Nadine, and her voice 
 
 VOL. 1. N
 
 1/8 NADINE, 
 
 sounded to herself strangely far away ; ^' I 
 shall return to Alston by the mid-day train. 
 I have told my maid to make all necessary 
 arrangements. She — T heard this first from 
 her. I must go home ; and you will be better 
 without me here." 
 
 " It is not a question of that, dearest, but 
 of what you prefer." 
 
 '^I want to go home," repeated Nadine, 
 and looked straight at Mrs. Dormer, ^witli 
 wild eyes like those of a stricken animal 
 seeming to urge dumbly — " Have pity. Do 
 not you know the strain of silent endurance ? 
 Let me go away and be alone with my pain.^' 
 
 Mrs. Dormer left the room, not imagining 
 that Nadine would descend till she was 
 equipped for departure ; but to her surprise, 
 when, pale and red-eyed, she took her own
 
 THE LEGEXD FULFILLED. 1 79 
 
 place behind the urn^ Miss Senguin was 
 already seated. 
 
 Dr. Bramwell, who had come down before 
 the rest, watched Nadine^s entrance,, his eyes 
 fixed upon her with an intensity of which he 
 was unconscious, but which was akin to the 
 burning anxiety in his soul. She met his 
 look, but it brought no flush to her cheek, no 
 answering consciousness to her eyes : they 
 seemed to gaze through and beyond him. In 
 truth, she had reached that pitch of effort at 
 which the mind is abstracted from all outward 
 things, and even sensation is almost null. 
 Nadine heard confusedly the lachrymose mur- 
 mur of conversation, but her own being was 
 removed far above the flow of that babbling- 
 current. Automatically she moved to her 
 
 chair, and sat like a statue, with head erectly 
 
 N 2
 
 1 80 NADINE. 
 
 poised and lips set tightly, while she toyed 
 with her food and apparently lent her ear to 
 Harry Dormer's disjointed and ungrammatical 
 jeremiad upon the desolation which had come 
 upon the house ; to Mrs. Bartelotte^s threnody, 
 in which eulogium of the dead man's charms, 
 foibles, and virtues mingled with naive regrets 
 that only his creditors and heirs would reap 
 the benefit of his grand coup of yesterday ; 
 and to the platitudes and condolences which 
 were being poured forth upon their hostess 
 by the elder ladies of the party. 
 
 It seemed to Nadine that the greater 
 number avoided speaking to her, and that 
 with regard to her presence, their manner 
 exhibited an elaborate and scarcely disguised 
 affectation of unconsciousness, while all, in 
 reality, examined her critically. There was
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. l8l 
 
 sometliing grimly ludicrous in the situation 
 that sustained her through an ordeal which 
 not another woman present could have 
 supported. Lax as were the morals of 
 Croxham^ — ^ Flirt and let flirt ^ being the 
 motto of its habitues, — tongues had already- 
 begun to wag upon the subject of Colonel 
 Halkett's obvious devotion to Miss Senguin. 
 More than one speculatively-inclined person 
 had wondered whether she would ' show up ^ 
 that morning, and if so^ how far her demeanour 
 would furnish a clue to her feelings ; while 
 the sentimental ones had derived consolation 
 for the unhappy state of affairs by the 
 expectation of an interesting drawing-room 
 drama. 
 
 Mrs. Bartelotte^ her radiance hardly dimmed 
 by the black gown which she had donned and
 
 1 82 NADINE. 
 
 the lugubrious drawing down of her rosy Hps, 
 shot one glance across the table at ^N^adine^, 
 and then began to chatter^ perhaps for the 
 first time^ with a serious motive for her 
 volubility. 
 
 "I reckon that Lacedoemonian boy is beaten 
 any way/' whispered the little American to 
 her neighbour^ Mr. Deodatus Lumley. " I 
 will say for you Britishers, that you do carry 
 off things on this side of. the water in a way 
 that's quite astonishing." 
 
 Mr. Lumley blinked his blue eyes and bent 
 his sandy brows in abstracted contemplation 
 of the beauty of stoicism. He too had his 
 theories founded upon social observations 
 and the study of chiromancy ; but he was 
 sympathetic,, and pretended not to understand 
 Mrs. Bartelotte^s remark.
 
 THE LEGEND FULFILLED. 1 83 
 
 The meal was short and constrained, a mere 
 sacrifice to conventional obligations, and an 
 exemplification of the insular maxim — " Let 
 everything be done decently and in order/^ 
 The black shadow up-stairs seemed to have 
 descended and to hover over the assembly. 
 All were painfully conscious of the presence 
 of death ; all wished to escape as speedily 
 as possible from the vicinity of that dread 
 spectre which stalks even amid scenes of 
 gaiety. Some few were faintly aggrieved at 
 having been cheated by untoward fate out 
 of a day's sport or pleasure, but for the most 
 part the guests at Croxham were too deeply 
 awed to bestow any thoughts upon the 
 Chollerton Races. 
 
 For Nadine each minute was a martyrdom. 
 She made no sign ; though a woman's heart
 
 1 84 NADINE. 
 
 be rent in twain, to utter a cry in public is to 
 commit treason against her womanhood ; but 
 Bramwell, who still watched her, regardless 
 of what might be said or thought of their 
 relations, — full of deep, anxious solicitude for 
 her in her pain, solicitude purely unselfish, 
 and resembling rather that of a brother than 
 a lover, too bewildered to be conscious of 
 aught save of her and of that hideous, 
 undefined suspicion which poisoned present 
 and future, — saw that her coflPee choked her, 
 saw that her face was growing every instant 
 more death-like, and knew that unless the 
 strain were removed for a minute she must 
 faint or shriek.
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED. 1 85 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CROXHAM DESEETED. 
 
 At that moment, the arrival of the post-bag 
 created a diversion, though Mrs. Dormer, in 
 spite of her self-command, almost broke down 
 at the sight of a packet of letters directed to 
 Colonel Halkett — letters, the writers of which 
 had little imagined would never meet the eyes 
 of him to whom they were addressed. A 
 move was made, and Nadine escaped up-stairs. 
 Her fly had arrived and was waiting, piled 
 with luggage. For her too, death seemed a 
 pestilence to be shunned ; or did she, like a
 
 1 86 NADINE. 
 
 wounded doe^ yearn for solitude ? Bramwell, 
 longing passionately for one word, one look 
 which might relieve the torturing anxiety by 
 which he was racked, followed her unobserved, 
 and saw her pass towards the west wing. In 
 a few moments she reappeared, clad in her 
 travelling cloak, with her ha,t on aud her veil 
 down. She stopped for an instant in the 
 corridor and cast one fearful look around, 
 not seeing Bramwell, who stood against an 
 abutting pillar at the head of the stairs. But 
 for his presence the long passage was empty. 
 
 Nadine threw up her veil, and Bramwell 
 saw her face unshadowed. Never had he 
 beheld mental agony imprinted with such 
 distinctness upon human countenance ; but 
 only for a moment : presently it had assumed 
 again its grey, petrified look, and he could
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED. 1 8/ 
 
 almost have doubted his own eyesight. She 
 hurried towards the baize door, her head 
 bent, her steps unfaltering, as though she 
 were impelled onw^ards by a force outside 
 herself. Having gained the partition, she 
 hesitated. Her hand was outstretched, then 
 withdrawn. Despairing resolve seemed to 
 enter into her, and she turned deliberately 
 back. It was the crowning act of her 
 crucifixion of passion. 
 
 Bramwell advanced to meet her, in his 
 eagerness stretching forth his arms ; but 
 she swept swiftly past him, vouchsafing him 
 not a look. Her veil was again lowered, 
 but he could see that her white teeth pressed 
 into her lips with a force suflBcient to draw 
 blood. 
 
 " Miss Senguin," he said, '' may I speak
 
 NADINE. 
 
 to you a moment ? " then added in a tone 
 of sharp entreaty, " Nadine, I must speak 
 to you." 
 
 She paused on the stairs till he had reached 
 her side, then moved a step or two till they 
 stood upon the half-way landing. Some one 
 was ascending, and below in the hall was 
 a knot of ladies conversing in whispers, their 
 eyes directed upwards. Bramwell divined 
 the instinct which had prompted her to evade 
 him in the corridor. She feared self-betrayal. 
 The dual nature was warring within her. 
 She had called him her conscience. He felt 
 with something like triumph, that to him, 
 in wavering, inconsistency, or defiance, she 
 onusf be true. There was comfort in the 
 reflection. But the same subtle intention 
 bore conviction of her passionate attach-
 
 CEOXHAM DESERTED. 1 89 
 
 ment to Halkett and of the hopelessness 
 of his own love. His thoughts and emotions 
 rose and fell like the waves of a troubled 
 sea, agonized certainty^ succeeded by re- 
 actionary doubt. Yet it seemed to him 
 that in this moment of mental renunciation 
 he read her complex character more clearly 
 than ever before. After the flash of compre- 
 hension came darkness ; but it left irritated 
 resolve. She might never be his; but sus- 
 picion, which perhaps wronged her, must 
 either be confirmed or rooted from his mind. 
 
 " I have something that I must say to 
 you/' he said, his voice trembling with 
 earnestness. 
 
 '^ This is not the time. I am on the 
 point of going away. Do not delay me.*' 
 
 " Nadine," exclaimed Bramwell passion-
 
 IQO NADINE. 
 
 ately^ ^' you wish, to evade me; but I will 
 force you to listen to me. You have minutes 
 to spare. And in the face of such a tragedy 
 as this, of what consequence is it to you 
 where you are or what you do, unless 
 indeed you could be alone ? You know that 
 if, instead of being taken to Alston, you were 
 to-day conveyed to the Land's End, the 
 relief to you would be intense. There you 
 would be free from the observation of familiar 
 eyes, and might relax the strain under 
 which you have placed yourself. At home 
 there will still be the necessity for sustaining 
 your part. Have you considered that this 
 cannot last ? Sooner or later you must 
 break down.^' 
 
 '' What can I do ? Ah me ! " Her hands 
 dropped helplessly. She was momentarily
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED. I9I 
 
 subdued by his firm tone of mastery. '^I'ra 
 a brave woman. I can bear a sword-thrust 
 without wincing; but — it's pulling out the 
 weapon that's worst." 
 
 " Let me take you back to Alston/' he 
 pleaded. '^ At least I can watch over you, 
 divert your father's attention from you — 
 make your trial easier. You once vaguely 
 promised me your confidence ; give it to 
 me now. You owe it me. I am tortured 
 by the most hideous uncertainty. There is 
 a mystery which must be cleared up. For 
 your own sake, even more than for mine^ 
 I implore you to be open with me." 
 
 Nadine drew herself up, her momentary 
 weakness conquered. She answered unfalter- 
 ingly, though she held her eyes averted — 
 
 " I forbid you to come to Alston, or to
 
 192 NADINE. 
 
 question me any further. Whatever your 
 perplexities may be_, you must solve them, 
 or submit to them without appeal to me. 
 There is no mystery, except in your imagin- 
 ation. I admit nothing except indeed that 
 I am unhappy. You are too able a physician 
 nut to interpret the signs of pain. I can 
 deceive others, I cannot deceive you. But 
 my sorrow is not deeply rooted. I know 
 myself far better than you know me. In a 
 month it will have passed away. That I 
 should suffer from this shock is natural, is 
 it not ? Does not Mrs. Dormer mourn ? 
 But she has the privilege of grieving openl}' ; 
 I must stifle my emotions because I am a 
 girl, and defenceless — and already my feelings 
 have been made the subject of common talk. 
 Have you forgotten what you told me on the
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED. 1 93 
 
 race-course yesterday ? Oh, yes, I do well 
 to wear a mask ; but it will not be necessary 
 for long. I shall soon show an indifferent 
 face like the rest — soon be able to boast 
 an indifferent heart." 
 
 All this had been uttered in low, rapid 
 tones, with no sign of feeling. She would 
 have passed on, but Bramwell detained her. 
 
 '' When may I see you ? '' 
 
 " When ? How can I tell ? Eemember 
 that I have forbidden you to come to Alston. 
 Wait till I am with the Dormers in London." 
 
 " They will go to London ! And you . . . 
 you will laugh, dance, jest-.'^ 
 
 " Yes, laugh, dance, jest," she inter- 
 rupted, a smile playing about her lips after 
 the manner in which phosphorescent light 
 
 might illuminate the face of a corpse; go 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 NADINE. 
 
 to Hurlingham and Ascot, and dine at 
 the Orleans, and spend idyllic Sundays, on 
 the river, parade the Park, struggle for 
 invitations to smart houses, and count rayself 
 blest if an Exalted Being retr.arks me approv-' 
 ingly, or if my looks are commented upon 
 in a society paper ; be Lady Beauty here 
 and Lady Gaiety there, and never, never 
 Miss Melancholy. Amusement by day, 
 chloral by night. You don^t know your 
 world. Dr. Bramwell. Do fashionable vromen 
 stay at home and put on sackcloth because 
 a friend has died suddenly ? '^ 
 
 Her artificial manner, the little laugh 
 which closed her speech, acted upon 
 Bramwell like an electric shock. He 
 started back with a gesture of shrinking, 
 almost of aversion. Her defiant insensibility
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED. 1 95 
 
 maddened him. Was she, after all, 
 as cold-blooded as she wished him to 
 assume ? He had faced his own disappoint- 
 ment^ and could endure the sickening pangs 
 it inflicted ; but with keener suffering rose 
 all the more strongly passionate need for 
 belief in her. That he should have mis- 
 understood her might be pain ; that she 
 should show herself unwomanly was despair. 
 He resented the hardness that belied his 
 conception of her nature, even though it 
 might perhaps be interpreted on his own 
 part as ground for renewed hope. Her next 
 words deepened the sense of repulsion. She 
 was looking away from him. In this obstinate 
 avoidance of his eyes — he knew that they were 
 charged with such solemn entreaty as must 
 compel sincerity — lay his justification for faith. 
 
 O 2
 
 196 NADINE. 
 
 " You begin to read my nature rightly 
 at last. You see that I am thoroughly 
 heartless — completely unworthy of your 
 regard. Be it so, I have wished all along 
 that you should understand me. I will not 
 accept esteem that is based upon a false 
 estimate of my character. Think of me as 
 far more despicable than you even now 
 imagine ; and leave me — to fight my own 
 battle with the world and -with myself." 
 
 She quitted him without glance or hand 
 touch. A moment later she was in the hall 
 kissing Mrs. Dormer, and with the same 
 impassive face bidding farewell to her host, 
 while she uttered some commonplace phrases 
 of thanks and regret. Bramwell held aloof, 
 and made no further attempt to obtain from 
 her any elucidation of the mystery which
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED. 1 9/ 
 
 tormented him. Heart-sick and weary he 
 turned away. . . The fly drove off. . . She 
 was gone. 
 
 By noon all the guests had departed 
 from Croxham with the exception of Dr. 
 Bramwell, whose presence at the Coroner^ s 
 Inquest was rendered necessary by his 
 examination of the body after death. 
 
 Life seemed to him that day a dream 
 within a dream. In movement or rest, in 
 silence or speech, he was haunted by the 
 image of Nadine, not as he had seen her 
 face last on the staircase, pale and coldly 
 defiant, but as it had appeared to him in 
 the corridor during that weird flash of moon- 
 light — spectral, ghastly as the face of one 
 struck by a horror worse than death — murder, 
 or shame ! Yet how reconcile the one with
 
 198 NADINE. 
 
 his medical knowledge, the other with his 
 unalterable conviction of Nadine's purity ? 
 
 Had he then been the sport of an over- 
 wrought imagination ? 
 
 Crashed down by the burden of these 
 thoughts, he was that evening languidly 
 dressing for the melancholy meal which 
 awaited him down-stairs, in grim contrast 
 with the noisy repasts of the previous nights, 
 wlien his attention was attracted by some- 
 thing glittering upon his dressing-table, 
 and upon examination found that the gleam 
 proceeded from a heart-shaped cluster of 
 brilliants. 
 
 It was the ring which he had picked up 
 in the corridor, and which, in his bewilder- 
 ment and agitation, he had thrust into his 
 breast and had forgotten.
 
 CROXHAM DESERTED. 1 99 
 
 Here was confirmation of his most torturing 
 suspicions. 
 
 Many times, while bending over Nadine 
 Senguin as she played to him in the 
 drawing-room at Alston, BramwelFs eyes 
 had lingered upon the cluster of diamonds 
 that had been wont to adorn the little 
 finger of her left hand. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 y^-Z^\ 
 
 WPW^ 
 
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