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 INGELHE lil
 
 " Physician. Time is a skilful weaver, hut there is a sayiug your 
 Majesty may have heard, that he does not Avork until we have ceased 
 to watch him. 
 
 " Queen. True, and yet let him work as skilfully as may be, he does, 
 at the best, but put a patch into our torn raiment. The thorns and 
 briars of the world have done their evil work : he cannot make whole 
 again, he can only disguise ; the rent remains for all his workmanship. 
 
 " Physician. Alas ! your Majesty, the hour soon comes in which we 
 realise that we cannot find our way through the world with untoru 
 garments, and so learn to be grateful even for the patches of the great 
 Aveaver."— From The Court Physician,
 
 I N G E L H E I M 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOE OF 'MISS MOLLY 
 
 IX THEEE VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBUEGH AND LONDON 
 
 M D C C C X C I I 
 
 All Rights reserved
 
 •» ^ 3 
 
 Q 
 
 f 
 
 TO 
 
 S. A. E. 
 
 MARIE ADELGONDE, 
 
 PKINCESSE HEXEI DE BOUEBON, 
 COMTESSE DE BAEDI, 
 
 IN AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 s 
 
 ^ ^^ 
 
 i 
 
 4.
 
 P E L G U E. 
 
 It was the first night of a new comedy, — a comedy 
 about which had been uttered a sufficient number 
 of prophecies to create a demand for places, that 
 put those who had obtained them in the position 
 of having achieved reflected renown. The theatre 
 was small, and would therefore only admit a limited 
 number ; but those who had gained an entrance rep- 
 resented the fashionable ranks of Paris, and were 
 drawn thither in the hope of seeing themselves — 
 their follies and failings — skilfully portrayed by 
 one who had lived amongst them, and had watched 
 them witli a view to future delineation. Hence the 
 eagerness with which they had assembled, every one 
 expecting that the study of his neighbours' foibles 
 would ensure a couple of liours' delight. Eumour 
 even whispered that the Emperor had himself 
 promised to be present, and many eager eyes were 
 directed to tlie Imperial box when the door of it was 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 .2 PROLOGUE. 
 
 opened, and an attendant appeared therein ; but it 
 was not the stern familiar face that appeared tliere a 
 few minutes later, but a tall beautiful woman, with 
 straight black brows and liair dark as night, amid 
 wliich diamonds shone — a woman alone unsmiling 
 amid all the laugliing talking throng, her sombre 
 garments contrasting strangely with the brilliancy 
 and gaiety of her surroundings. With her were 
 two men, the one a fine-looking elderly greybeard, 
 whose hair had once been black as hers, w^hose dark 
 eyes looked forth from under just such level brows ; 
 the other also dark-haired and dark-eyed, but with 
 all the difference that lies between the north and 
 south. The woman's black eyes were an accident 
 due to some far-off ancestress, and only accentuated 
 the brilliant fairness of her complexion, — in the 
 younger man's case they harmonised with the rich 
 southern colouring, soft and warm, of the land that 
 had given him birth. 
 
 A couple of years previously, the beautiful 
 daughter of Lord Ashton had married Juan, Count 
 de Miramar. It had been a love-match, a per- 
 fectly happy marriage ; scarcely had there been one, 
 almost unavoidable jar consequent on marrying a 
 foreigner, for so long had Justine Ashton lived in 
 Spain, that differences for her had virtually ceased 
 to exist. 
 
 Life had gone so smoothly, reflected in the sun- 
 shine of an adoring husband's love and care, that 
 the possibility of clouds and tempests liad been for-
 
 PROLOGUE. 3 
 
 gotten until tlie day broke on which the thnnder- 
 bolt fell. 
 
 To rise a happy, loved wife, with a fair little 
 daughter, in whose eyes it was growing possible to 
 watch for the light that liad gladdened her heart in 
 the husband's ; to feel that one day this little child 
 that was her heart's joy would surely grow to be a 
 lovely woman ; and then in a few short hours for it 
 all to pass out of her life, — the present with its im- 
 mediate joy and the future promise of happiness 
 alike. Kot by death's calming hand ; since, in her 
 anguish and despair she had felt that even that, 
 with its certain knowledge, would have been better 
 than the awful doubt with which her life must 
 always walk step by step. 
 
 And yet, when she pictured the dark eyes closed, 
 and the baby limbs cold under restless waters, she 
 would shrink away back to the side of the other 
 companion who held the secret of her baby's fate. 
 
 Lost ! That was the beginning and the end of 
 all the questionings and strivings. Xo clue had 
 reached her hands, no voice come back in answer to 
 the promised reward or to the mother's prayers, to 
 say where her little one was that evening when the 
 sun set. 
 
 For months now she had stood apart from tlie 
 world nursing her sorrow, and it was only for the 
 sake of the one voice she never could resist that 
 she had accompanied him hither to-night. He had 
 begged of her to come, and she had obeyed, because
 
 4 PROLOGUE. 
 
 to obey liim was the only happiness the world still 
 held for her ; but through all the glare and brilliance 
 the one memory haunted her, forbidding smiles, ren- 
 dering laughter out of place. 
 
 To-night — here — whilst she sat and strove to be 
 amused, where and how was her little child ? 
 
 On her way she had shuddered, looking out on to 
 the cold frosty street, as she noted in the sudden 
 gleam of light some poor, scantily clothed woman 
 holding a baby to her breast ; only that afternoon 
 her eyes had filled with tears at the sight of a little 
 hungry - looking child dancing to a man's unmelo- 
 dious music in the open street, smiling its unchild- 
 like smiles for the pennies compassionate passers-by 
 tossed into its little thin hands. She had paused in 
 her walk and drawn near, mingling with the noisy 
 applauding crowd, and had then turned away with 
 an aching heart, because the eyes that had met her 
 own, singling her out in her rich attire, were set 
 under brows as dark as night. 
 
 Other mothers, lonely, childless as she was, could 
 think with an aching heart of the rest their little 
 ones had gained, of the soft turf or the white snow 
 that lay between them — a strong protecting shield — 
 and the cruel world. Why, ah why to her was no 
 such comfort granted ! 
 
 So strong was the love this man by her side felt 
 for her, that it was sometimes as if in truth no veil 
 fell between his heart and hers. He knew through 
 Ws love, as her eyes met his with an answering
 
 PROLOGUE. 5 
 
 tender smile, tlie pain at her heart; was conscious 
 of that ever-present ache which for his sake she 
 would have been glad sometimes to put aside. 
 
 In responsive sympathy a mist crept between 
 him and the smiling crowd around, whilst once 
 again in memory he trod the weary past, striving 
 to discover if any faintest thing had been left un- 
 done tliat might have brought back the smiles to 
 this loved woman — smiles whicli should not only 
 come in answer to his own anxious looks ; but it was 
 a vain effort. 
 
 If the child lived, such was his own innermost 
 tliought, all that had been done and promised would 
 have brought it back to its mother's arms. 
 
 There was only Death who could have proved 
 thus relentless. 
 
 To whom else would it have borne any value ? 
 To any one else the sole value it could possess must 
 be the cords that bound it to its mother's heart — the 
 sole wish to break that heart. Xo, no: it was death, 
 not life, that had intervened; death under some dark 
 inscrutable form, that would never lift the shrouding- 
 veil which hid where the child slept. 
 
 But better that than vague ideas of human revenge. 
 
 lievenge ! — the word startled him. So far had 
 his thoughts carried him, that he had scarcely noted 
 the cessation of the music, the sudden silence on 
 which the word — had it indeed only floated through 
 his brain, not been spoken aloud — had fallen. 
 Something had empliasised it — some swift look
 
 6 PROLOGUE. 
 
 from a pair of eyes beneath, that had met his own 
 for a moment out of the shadows below, and which 
 he had lost a^'ain. 
 
 o 
 
 But the look had turned the current of his 
 thouglits. In a moment it had swept away his 
 surroundings, and had conjured up a totally dif- 
 ferent scene, which he almost fancied he had for- 
 gotten, till Memory, treacherous Memory, lifted her 
 wand as those eyes met his. 
 
 The music was hushed, the lights out, all the crowd 
 of fashionable beauties and idle men of the world 
 had vanished into the semi-darkness in which he 
 stood, amid the knick-knacks and gaudiness of a 
 small firelit boudoir, listening to a passionate voice 
 that rose and fell almost as if in unison with the 
 rising and falling flames of a dying fire, and a 
 voice that matched the eyes. The iireglow revealed 
 a slender figure, a small head crowned with thick 
 chestnut hair, slight hands that were clasped to her 
 heart as if to quiet its pulsations. 
 
 " Speak to me — tell me ! " 
 
 The voice died away into a pleading cry. 
 
 '■ Yes," the man's voice came coldly and swiftly, 
 " I am going to be married." 
 
 " And you have not told me ? " 
 
 " You would liave known. Had you not sent for 
 me now I would have written." 
 
 " Coward ! coward ! " 
 
 The words came from licr li})s, from which the 
 colour liad faded, like a threat.
 
 PROLOGUE. 7 
 
 " After all — that is the way you would have eucled 
 it, you would have loritten. Ah ! " flinging her arms 
 abroad with a passionate gesture, " there is no 
 cowardice to er|ual a man's." 
 
 " What would you have had me do ? I would 
 have spared us both."' 
 
 " Spared us" she repeated. " How much have 
 you spared me? You have spoilt my whole life, 
 and then talk of sparing. But don't imagine it is 
 your ceasing to love me that I blame you for : it 
 is your cowardice in leaving me to hear of it from 
 strangers' tongues, as I have heard it. Sparing in- 
 deed ! It is yourself you have striven to spare, but 
 do not think you will succeed. You shall pay bitterly, 
 bitterly for all you have done, and left undone. ' 
 
 No answer fell from the man's lips. 
 
 The woman's low utterances rang throbbing with 
 pain through the silence of the little room. "When 
 she ceased speaking, the man, still without a word, 
 moved towards the door. 
 
 But seeing his intention, she was too swift for 
 him — with a few rapid steps she placed her slight 
 figure against it, facing him. " Speak ! say some- 
 thing ! — you shall not go like this." 
 
 " What would you have me say ? " 
 
 ''Anything. The truth, if you can and will. / 
 will say it for yon," in a taunting tone. " You are 
 tired of me, and therefore sorry you persuaded me 
 to leave the home where — if I was not happy — I 
 was at least respected. An unhap[)y English gover-
 
 8 PROLOGUE. 
 
 ness in a strange land, surrounded by foreigners, is 
 an easy woman to persuade. Love is as good a 
 persuader as any other : if I believed you, more 
 fool I." 
 
 " I did love you." His voice was unsteady, his 
 eyes did not meet hers. 
 
 " You did,'' she repeated ; " there is- no past tense 
 in love; — you thought you did, and it is I who 
 suffer through your mistake." 
 
 Then, with a swift change of tone, the passion 
 dying out of eyes and voice, — " Ah yes, you did. 
 I am dreaming now, or mad — you do. This mar- 
 riage : it is a necessity, an evil forced upon you — you 
 do not love her." 
 
 " Leave her name alone ; it is not of her I wish to 
 speak, it is of you." 
 
 " I understand." The softness vanishing, the lines 
 of the face growing hard. " She is your future, 
 your glad happy future. I am the past, the miser- 
 able shameful past, which must somehow be buried 
 out of sight. Take care ! " bending suddenly for- 
 ward, while a sudden flame from the fire showed an 
 evil light in the eyes, " take care ! Sometimes it is 
 not easy to bury the past; it has been known to 
 reach forward and kill the future." 
 
 So much had happened since he had heard those 
 wards. At the time he had listened to them as to 
 the vague threats of an angry woman ; he had 
 thought they were forgotten, until of a sudden in 
 the midst of this crowded theatre they had seemed
 
 PEOLOGUE. 9 
 
 to sound through the silent liouse as if they had 
 been spoken aloud. 
 
 "What had conjured them up ? To something 
 touching his brain \Yith a reminder of the past, he 
 owed them. 
 
 The expression of those eyes that had for an in- 
 stant flashed upon him out of the dark shadowy 
 corner, — an expression, some casual momentary 
 likeness. 
 
 He bent forward, watching the dark corner below. 
 Had it all been a hallucination ? Xo, even as he 
 looked there was a quick upward glance, — no mis- 
 taking it now, though the face was different, more 
 marked and worn than he remembered it, still 
 the same, the same red lights in the thick waves of 
 hair, though it was scarcely this he saw, but the 
 expression in the eyes that glanced from him to the 
 heart-broken woman by his side, that served as a 
 revelation. 
 
 He might be mistaken — so often he had been in 
 this last terrible year, but here was a chance, or so 
 he thought. 
 
 Before she should have time to escape or be sus- 
 picious, he would seek her out and force her to 
 speak. In the meantime he turned his eyes res- 
 olutely to the stage, awaiting the end of the act, 
 which was now close at hand. 
 
 It was over now. The curtain had fallen, this 
 was his opportunity. He turned slowly with some 
 light excuse to the woman by his side —
 
 10 PROLOGUE. 
 
 " I fancied I recognised a face in the crowd below, 
 there will be time before the next act for me to go 
 and see." 
 
 Underneath, amid the noise and confusion that 
 followed the end of the act, with every one moving 
 hither and thither, it was easy to make his way 
 unobserved across the theatre. For a moment he 
 glanced upwards towards the box he had left ; noted 
 the beautiful statuesque figure, the sad quiet face, 
 which brightened into a shadowy smile as their eyes 
 met, — and then he pursued his way. 
 
 She towards whom his thoughts and looks were 
 turned was apparently unaware of his proximity. 
 She was still in the same corner, one of a numerous 
 crowd who had contented themselves with camp- 
 stools and chairs placed down the narrow passages, to 
 allow a greater number of spectators to witness the 
 piece of the hour. 
 
 Standing up, she was now surveying the house, 
 and again as her eyes fell on the black-robed lady 
 in the box above, eyes and mouth took that strange 
 expression of mocking exultant satisfaction. 
 
 His heart-beats quickened ; after so much trouble 
 and heartbreak, so much vain seeking, was it possible 
 that the clue at length lay within his grasp ? Once 
 touch it, then nothing — no power on earth — should 
 persuade him to abandon it, till all she could tell 
 was told. Threats, pleadings — there was nothing he 
 would not make use of to restore the smiles once more 
 to tlic wunuiu he loved. Hard, cold as she mij-lit
 
 PROLOGUE. 1 1 
 
 be — might have become — she was a woman, and 
 surely could be touched by another woman's woe. 
 
 So thick was the crowd tliat he was stopped here, 
 and time given him to phm in imagination how he 
 should begin liis speech, in what words express how 
 he had translated the looks that he had intercepted ; 
 and as he stood tlnis debating, thinking, — in no 
 wise hurried, because she whom he watched had 
 evidently no thought of quitting her place, — a sud- 
 den, quick, awful cry resounded, wliicli brought back 
 his scattered thous^hts, and for the moment banished 
 everything else. 
 
 " Fire ! fire ! " 
 
 That one second's breathless pause, and tlien he 
 was one of a maddened terrified crowd, forcing their 
 way, regardless of their own safety or any one else's, 
 towards the nearest exit. 
 
 He was aware that behind him from tlie stage 
 came a thick cloud of smoke, forced tlirough by a 
 tongue of flame, but the screams and cries of tliose 
 around made it impossible to realise the extent of 
 the danger. He was also aware of a man's figure, 
 which for a moment appeared, amid the smoke, on 
 the sta^^e, gesticulating, calling — words, movements 
 alike lost on the struggling crowd, of which he was 
 one of the centre figures. 
 
 Instinctively, amid all liis own anxiety, he glanced 
 overhead to the box he had left. It was empty. In 
 that desperate moment he lifted his heart in a quick 
 prayer tliat she had found a swift road to safety.
 
 12 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Then he was back once more in the midst of his 
 own danger, with all his senses quickened to the small 
 chance of life that remained in this terror-stricken 
 mob, growing desperate now, as the smoke closed 
 about them, poisoning the air. 
 
 Women and weakly men were slipping and falling, 
 reducing the cliances of escape for all alike ; but 
 Juan Miramar was tall and strong, and able to 
 struggle on, though even on him the want of air 
 was beginning to tell. 
 
 But there were merely a few steps now between 
 him and a possible door of escape ; and recognising 
 that fact, he glanced towards where so often this 
 evening his looks had been bent. She was there 
 still. Almost in the same position, only standing 
 a little closer up to the wall, her face scarcely whiter 
 than it had been, only lier e3^es had lost the expres- 
 sion which had attracted him. They were now wild 
 and despairing, as she shrank back from the strug- 
 gling crowd. 
 
 Even in that supreme moment he had a thought 
 of not letting her go out of his sight, carrying her 
 secret with her. 
 
 The crowd was bearing her with it, faint, un- 
 resisting; in a moment they would meet face to 
 face. Even there and then he would put his ques- 
 tion. Another few steps, that was all. 
 
 The smoke was growing thicker, more blinding: 
 he staggered, and gasped for air. A girl's voice 
 sounded in his ear, a girl's hand clasped his own ;
 
 PROLOGUE. 13 
 
 he looked down to see a slender figure sinking by 
 his side, and quickly, without a second thouglit, put 
 his arm about lier, drawing her in front of him ; 
 — recognising she was for the moment safe from 
 those who were pushing her down in her unresist- 
 ing weakness. " Courage," his own voice sounded 
 weak and strange in his ears, and again he staggered 
 and was pushed aside by those still crowding up 
 behind. 
 
 " Courage." At the sound of the voice the woman 
 with the ruddy hair half turned her head, and their 
 eyes had met. 
 
 There was a cry which never reached him, for he 
 had slipped and fallen, but his eyes had met hers: 
 she was aware he had seen her, for she attempted to 
 turn towards him. But what was her weak will at 
 such a moment ! She stumbled and fell also. So 
 few the steps between them, but before the distance 
 could be trodden, Death had stepped in, and laid his 
 detaining hand on each. 
 
 Frozen into eternal silence was the question on 
 his lips, and the answer that had been hidden in her 
 eyes ; both passionate hearts were stilled, and Death 
 took into his eternal keeping the secret that Life had 
 thought her own.
 
 I N G E L H E I M. 
 
 CHArTEB I. 
 
 "The destined hand dotli strike the fated blow, 
 Surely the arrow's fitted to the bow ! " 
 
 The rain was coining down in the steady persistent 
 fashion which we are wont to associate with a wet 
 day in England, a cohl east wind emphasising the 
 dreariness of all around. Tlie very flowers and 
 leaves, which at the call of ^lay had ventured forth, 
 looked discoloured and shrivelled, and it required all 
 tlie charm of summer to make Beverley Parsonage 
 bright and attractive, instead of, as it was to-day, 
 an ugly red brick house, with only a small and un- 
 interesting garden and a high wall between it and 
 a smoky mining village. 
 
 But Mr Traherne, with his small income and his 
 growing family, did not think much of the east wind 
 and the dismal rain, except to utter a hope that the
 
 16 INGELHEIM. 
 
 young peas would not suffer, or the blossoms on the 
 unhappy-looking fruit-trees be washed away. He 
 was a small, neat - looking man, who wore an ex- 
 pression of being too insignificant for the large 
 events of life to trouble themselves about him, and 
 as if all that was expected of him was to bear minor 
 troubles with equanimity, which probably he did, 
 for there were few lines on his face. 
 
 It was getting dark outside as he opened the door 
 of the house ; there was a light already in the room 
 on the right - hand side, whence, as he paused a 
 moment, a voice proceeded, calling him by name — 
 
 " James, James, is that you ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear — coming, coming." 
 
 A moment later he had entered a large room, 
 apparently combining the functions of both dining 
 and school room, in which were gathered together 
 a small party. 
 
 Mrs Traherne was almost as unremarkable in 
 appearance as her husband, only, whereas he was 
 dark with sallow cheeks and black hair turning 
 grey, she was fair — fair in the colourless way so 
 common in English women, with blond lustreless 
 hair, now thickly sown with grey. Looking at them 
 both in the warm light of the fire, it was impossible 
 to believe that they had ever known the swing of 
 the pendulum which lifts alternately from deepest 
 despair to poise for a moment on breathless heights. 
 
 No, life with them had only swayed between 
 momentary anxiety and reasonable comfort, and in
 
 INGELHELM. 17 
 
 the somewhat monotonous round of daily life at 
 Beverley, and a visit to the seaside every summer, 
 since the presence of children had seemed to 
 necessitate the change, time had ebbed and flowed. 
 Perhaps in all the course of their lives nothing 
 had occurred which had so much ruffled the course 
 of their existence as the declaration of their only 
 son that, having arrived at years of discretion, he 
 had decided aiiainst followincj in his father's foot- 
 steps and taking holy orders. They had said all 
 they could, both father and mother, but it had 
 availed little or nothino-. 
 
 He was not easy to argue with, this son, who, 
 almost before they were aware of the fact, had 
 ceased to be a child, and had become a man with 
 a will of his own. An uncomfortably strong will 
 in his parents' opinion, who judged him in the 
 \vay elders are wont to judge youngsters whom 
 they find unpersuadable, and whom they are not 
 in the position to coerce. 
 
 " Jem is very different to what I was at his age," 
 the parson said, and sighed. 
 
 " He has had his own way in small things," the 
 wife replied, " he cannot be expected to give it up 
 in larger." 
 
 There was a vague reproach in the words which 
 held a truth, for there never had been a time when 
 this other will had bowed to theirs. 
 
 It is unquestionably awkward to find in one's own 
 nest a specimen quite unlike one's self or those 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 1 8 INGELHEIM. 
 
 one knows, and therefore, presumably, understands 
 best. 
 
 The two girls, who were now thirteen and fourteen, 
 shadowed forth so distinctly what they would be 
 like at thirty and forty — were so like what she 
 herself had been, that it filled Mrs Traherne's heart 
 with maternal pride only to watch the smooth fair 
 heads and girlish faces, which either carried her 
 back to her own past, or held a prophecy of the 
 future, as she felt inclined. It was a lano-ua2:e 
 she understood, wdiereas this other was some strange 
 hieroglyph that neither she nor her husband felt 
 always certain of deciphering. 
 
 There is little outward resemblance certainly. 
 Jem Traherne is an incongruous figure when one 
 looks from his slight commonplace parents to the 
 two flaxen - haired daughters, and then to this big 
 broad-shouldered young man. 
 
 There was little or no colour in his face — in this 
 he resembled the rest of his family — and his hands 
 were in shape like those of his father, hands of 
 which Mr Traherne was justly proud ; but in the 
 one case they were merely well shaped and w^ell 
 cared for, in the other the long fingers bore tokens 
 of careless exposure to sun and wind, and there 
 was nervous energy and character which were want- 
 ing in the father's case : but there the likeness, 
 such as it was, ceased, and some far-off forgotten 
 ancestor stepped in, and the result was this tall 
 young man, with the straight eyebrows above quick-
 
 INGELHEIM. 1 9 
 
 seeing grey eyes, the wave in the brown hair that 
 grew thick above the broad intelligent forehead, 
 the gravity and determination that marked the 
 well-cut mouth. And, in addition to all this, that 
 inconvenient habit of choosing his own way in 
 great things as well as little, listening to no one 
 else, refusing to be a clergyman, when everything 
 pointed to the evident desirability of such a career, 
 and instead, insisting on becoming a mechanical 
 engineer. " If he had chosen one of the other 
 professions, we should have said nothing," Mrs 
 Traherne had complained ; " of course it is better 
 for a young man to adopt the life whicli pleases 
 him, but such a choice has pained us very much." 
 
 But his mother's sighs and his father's querulous 
 protests had no effect ; perhaps the far-off ancestor 
 whose colourincr he had inherited was also answer- 
 able for the temperament. 
 
 It is often difficult to realise, lookino- at the 
 blond head and blue eyes of the child, that behind 
 them may be hidden the passionate ill-regulated 
 heart and storm-tossed mind of a dark-eyed, brown- 
 haired mother. How mucli more difficult when it 
 is some remote ancestor whose personality is called 
 in cpiestion, when his very memory has become a 
 legend ! 
 
 Such a legend there was in Mr Traherne's family, 
 almost forgotten until this revival of it recalled the 
 old story. Some vague memory of just such an- 
 other broad-shouldered younq; man, who had refused
 
 20 INGELHEIM. 
 
 to fill the place in life prepared for him, and had 
 renounced his family and his home, and had gone 
 to seek his fortune beyond the seas. 
 
 He had never returned, and no ofiicial informa- 
 tion either as to whether he had prospered or not. 
 His exodus had taken place before the days of 
 regular posts to far-off places, but in his own family 
 his name was treasured as a warning. 
 
 It is more agreeable to imagine the disobedient 
 have failed, than to picture them adding success to 
 their other vices. 
 
 " I believe he succeeded," Jem said one day, in 
 response to an observation of his mother's, who was 
 holding up the family skeleton as a w^arning. " I 
 believe he succeeded." He had been younger then, 
 and had not adopted silence as his surest weapon. 
 
 " If he had," his mother insisted, " he would have 
 been only too glad to return and say so." 
 
 " It is just as likely he w\as happy, and didn't care 
 whether they knew it or not." 
 
 " Not care about his own mother and father," Mrs 
 Traherne cried, seizing on a possible point to be 
 made, in the way people consider fair when arguing 
 with those weaker than themselves. " Oh, Jem, if 
 that is all you gain by getting your own way, it is 
 not likely to do you much good." 
 
 AVhat could Jem do but hold his peace for the 
 future. It was better to be tliought sullen than 
 called unfilial. 
 
 The years had passed since then. Jem liad ceased
 
 IXGELHEIM. 21 
 
 to be a schoolboy, liad had two years of training, and 
 had become a man. He was at home just now on 
 a short holiday, and though his father and mother 
 had ceased to speak, except to each other, of their 
 disappointment, yet there was always a sliadow of 
 the old friction remaining. 
 
 " He might have been such a comfort to us," they 
 said to each other instead. 
 
 It was with a shudder of horror they followed 
 each step in his career, seeing in it only roughened 
 hands and a carelessness of attire, and overlooking 
 the careful persistent work which had pushed him 
 on, until now at two-and-twenty he was earning his 
 own living. A gap of several years was between 
 him and the girls, but it was in them both father 
 and mother centred their hopes and daily interests. 
 
 There was a thrill of excitement when Mr Tra- 
 lierne entered the schoolroom : evidently he was 
 expected to bring some news. 
 
 "Well?" Mrs Traherne interrogated, and the two 
 girls, interrupted in their lessons, lifted their heads 
 expectantly. 
 
 "I have arranged with Simpson to send his Hy 
 at half-past six," Mr Traherne replied ; " there is no 
 hope of its clearing now, and we can all go in it. It 
 is very roomy, and if Jem sits on the box, there will 
 be plenty of room for the rest of us inside." 
 
 At the words, young Traherne laid down his book 
 and made some dissentient observation, but it was 
 at once put aside.
 
 22 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " No, no, Jem," liis mother said, " joii must 
 go. Miss Eussell especially asked you, and I 
 promised." 
 
 " There is no difficulty," her liushand added, " we 
 can all easily go in the fly. I am sure it will be 
 worth a little trouble." 
 
 Jem gave an impatient sigh and returned to 
 his book, heedless of the remarks of those about 
 him. 
 
 In the usual regular routine of the Parsonage life, 
 an evening such as this promised to be w^as an 
 eventful one. 
 
 Miss Eussell, the hostess, was a lady who lived a 
 mile away from this mining village, and was, in 
 virtue of the wealth which she drew from the mines, 
 of great importance in her neighbourhood. 
 
 She was generally esteemed eccentric, chiefly on 
 account of her friends, who had little in the shape 
 of fashion or money as a rule to recommend them, 
 and who caused a gasp of astonislunent whenever 
 they appeared. 
 
 They were often foreigners, a fact in itself worthy 
 of suspicion, as surely with the county families as 
 with those of the miners, who would stand in their 
 doorways to follow with doubting eyes the bespec- 
 tacled German professor, or fiercely gesticulating 
 Italian, as he passed down the narrow street. 
 
 It was not often her clergyman and his family 
 were included in her invitations ; the quarterly 
 dinner and the yearly garden-party generally suf-
 
 IXGELHEIM. 23 
 
 ficed, but this evening was a special out-of-tlie-way 
 affair. 
 
 A concert for a local charity was to be held in 
 Beverley Hall. Local talent was chiefly responsible, 
 and the choruses especially were dependent on the 
 singers in the church choir, and amongst these 
 were IMartha and Mary Traherne, the clergyman's 
 daughters. 
 
 The Gfreat ni^ht w^as now close at hand, there was 
 plenty to talk about as the little party sat over the 
 welcome fire on that cold east-windy May evening. 
 
 As they talked, the curtains, which had been 
 closed to shut out the dreary evening, were softly 
 withdrawn, and in the narrow aperture appeared a 
 slight figure, a figure strangely at variance with the 
 other occupants of the room. A slight overgrown 
 girl, thin and sallow ; but the dark eyes, though not 
 very large, were well set under black brows, and 
 gave character to the face, the soft wavy hair, black 
 as night, was plaited close about the small head. It 
 was a minute or two before those gathered about the 
 fire became aware of her presence, but a sudden turn 
 brought her into Mr Traherne's vision, and he called 
 to her at once. 
 
 " Dolly, where have you appeared from ? Come 
 over here to the fire, child. Did you fall asleep 
 behind the curtain," lie added, as she approached. 
 " You look as if you were not yet quite wide 
 awake." 
 
 Goodness is a queer plant, it grows in such un-
 
 24 INGELHEIM. 
 
 likely out-of-the-way corners, prospers in such un- 
 likely soil. 
 
 Mr and j\Irs Traherne were to all appearances the 
 most ordinary folk likely to be met with ; their 
 virtues were of the homely order, common to thou- 
 sands of others whose way of life makes no great 
 demands upon their principles ; their faults were 
 those of thousands also. Small, little everyday 
 faults, virtues which never seemed to rise above the 
 dead level of the dullest of human lives. A little 
 over-carefulness, — because the day might come when 
 wife and children might be dependent on friends 
 and charity, — a little selfishness, a little petty tyr- 
 anny ; and, on the other side, small kindnesses, an 
 honest, virtuous, if dull life, upon which the full 
 light of day might fall. And, in addition to all this 
 small debit and credit, one great kindness, to which 
 neither man nor wife ever gave a passing thought. 
 
 Thirteen years ago, when the struggle of life had 
 been at its hardest, when other little ones had been 
 in the nursery and had filled the gaps between broad- 
 shouldered Jem and the two flaxen-haired «irls, — 
 gaps which were marked now by names on one 
 churchyard stone, — coming home one night it had 
 been to find a little dark-eyed child wrapped in a shawl 
 hidden in the shadow of the Parsonage doorway. 
 
 No clue to its belongings ! and to those who heard 
 of the mysterious baby, there was much to point its 
 advent towards an invasion of gipsies which had 
 taken place lately in the neighbourhood. But gip-
 
 INGELHEIM. 25 
 
 sies Lad vanished, and whether it was from them 
 she had come or not, the child, a dark-eyed little 
 girl of two years old, remained. 
 
 The workhouse. That was the natural home for 
 a nameless little waif, and thither she would have 
 been consigned had the talkers in the neighbour- 
 hood had their way. 
 
 But the Trahernes, with their dull uninteresting 
 ways, which made them but of small account socially, 
 their petty economies, which they practised with 
 each other's strongest appreciation, were in this 
 matter at once of one accord — that the home of the 
 little child was not with strangers at the workhouse, 
 but with those at wdiose door she had been left. 
 "One child makes little difference," Mr Traherne 
 said, and Mrs Traherne sighed in answer, and said 
 that there was to spare since those little graves had 
 been dug, and then they opened their arms to the 
 stranger, and what was theirs and their children's 
 became hers also. 
 
 The child had been baptised, because, considering 
 the doubts about her parentage, it seemed but too 
 possible that that ceremony had been omitted. Miss 
 Ptussell, the lady of the Hall, had come forward and 
 offered herself as godmother, and had selected the 
 name — a name at variance with all the parsonage 
 traditions, a name whose significance had had to be 
 explained, Dolores. 
 
 Miss Itussell was capable, if she chose, to be a 
 valuable friend to the little stranger, so the name
 
 26 INGELHELM. 
 
 was given as a sacritice to her peculiarities and 
 foreign ways ; but the Trahernes were glad to lend 
 the shelter of their own honest patronymic in ad- 
 dition to the un-English prefix. 
 
 There were yet ten minutes to the half-hour when 
 Simpson's fly drove up to the door of Beverley Hall ; 
 the rain was still coming heavily down, so that, con- 
 sidering the importance of tlie occasion, both Mr and 
 Mrs Traherne congratulated themselves on the ex- 
 travagance. The three girls were silent all the way, 
 though not particularly shy, the unusualness of 
 the proceeding was perhaps a little awe-inspiring. 
 There was even a little nervous suggestiveness in 
 the constant talk of the parents. But, once arrived, 
 every personal feeling was swallowed up in the 
 importance of the occasion, the consideration of 
 those others who were to take part in the pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 After a careful maternal examination, Mrs Tra- 
 herne had to take her departure, leaving the girls in 
 the room set apart for the performers, whilst she 
 joined her husband and son, who had steadily re- 
 fused to do more than lend his countenance to tlie 
 proceedings. To sing a comic song, as had been 
 suggested, or even to join the chorus, did not come 
 within his idea of what could reasonably be expected 
 of him. So with his father and mother he went to 
 the concert-room to swell the audience. 
 
 Here there was much flutter and stir and low- 
 voiced talk. The proceedings were unusual, and the
 
 INGELHEIM. 27 
 
 iieiglibours from far and near had come to criticise 
 the latest eccentricity at Beverley Hall. 
 
 A bazaar was the orthodox way of raising money, 
 and amongst those gathered together, there was a 
 little uncertainty whether the novelty, — which in 
 itself was an attraction — a concert was quite a legiti- 
 mate proceeding. The undercurrent of doubt and 
 thought, of which she was well aware, did not 
 trouble Miss Eussell however. 
 
 She was a tall handsome woman of forty, and 
 her position — that of a lady living alone, with 
 freedom to ask to her house any one she chose 
 — was now accepted : after all, though hand- 
 some and brilliant, she had reached the age when 
 a little liberty in action may be allowed. But it 
 was not quite forgotten that she had done much 
 the same when she was a handsome girl of twenty- 
 three, and had found herself mistress of Beverley. 
 She should have married then, and chosen a man 
 suitable for the position, instead 
 
 ^Vell, instead, here she was to-day in her rich 
 attire, just as regardless of the voices of her neigh- 
 bours as she had been in those old times. 
 
 Her hair, which was quite white, was arranged in 
 becoming twists and curls, her manner and voice 
 were a little quick and decided, those of a woman 
 who is accustomed to being listened to, the expres- 
 sion perhaps a shade hard, a trifle careless also 
 about the conventional courtesy which listens to 
 the tedious and bears with the dull; but a clever
 
 28 INGELHEIM. 
 
 woman, free from the ordinary restrictions of 
 womanhood, free also from the softening influence 
 of wife and motherhood, is apt to become slightly 
 overbearing, and the fact is just as often accepted 
 as rebelled against by those among whom her lot 
 is cast. 
 
 She was in her element to-night; proud of the 
 energy which had brought this novelty to a suc- 
 cessful issue, for the talent she had got together 
 was of no mean order ; and, as enthusiasm in- 
 creased, there was a feeling of successful general- 
 ship in a difficult campaign, which added zest to 
 her enjoyment. 
 
 " Who is the black child ? " 
 
 The question broke in upon a murmured conver- 
 sation she was holding in the far background. 
 
 The speaker was one of those stout elderly for- 
 eigners, with unkempt heads and gleaming spec- 
 tacles, of whom the neighbourhood disapproved. 
 
 " Black child ? " Miss Russell repeated. 
 
 " There, there, look ! " The voice was excited. 
 Miss llussell followed his pointing hand, — " That 
 black little girl — a crow among pigeons." 
 
 With this apt illustration to guide, it was easy to 
 recognise Dolores, a little Traherne on either side, 
 moving away with the other chorus singers. 
 
 " That is my godchild, Professor. She is the little 
 foundling of wliom I spoke. When I am quite old 
 and tired of everything else, I am going to bring her 
 here to comfort my old age."
 
 INGELHEIM. 29 
 
 " You sliall not, you shall not. You shall give 
 her to me." 
 
 " Yes ? " Miss Eussell interrogated. " She is not 
 mine to give, so my ' yes ' is only a question, which 
 means, and what will you do with her ? " 
 
 " I will make her into a singer, if I am not 
 mistaken." 
 
 " You are never mistaken." 
 
 The old man looked gratified at the compliment. 
 
 " We will hear her alone ? " he questioned. 
 
 Miss Eussell nodded. She was interested also 
 and silenced. Dolores was standing by the piano 
 on the little stacje in front. 
 
 A common enoufjh ballad ; verv little stvle to 
 the critical ears of the woman who had listened to 
 the best music of her time, but the voice, or the 
 promise of it, was there. Full and true and sweet, 
 it filled the room with the clearness of a bird's song, 
 and was appreciated by the applause it received. 
 
 Awkward enough she looked as she stood by the 
 piano, blushing and paling in response to the ap- 
 plause, until the accompanist, a fashionable young 
 Londoner, pitying her evident discomfiture, rose and, 
 taking her hand, led her away. 
 
 " Yes, I am right, I am sure of it," the old German 
 murmured. " You must give her to me, ^Tiss Eus- 
 sell. It is there, slie must be taught. And a found- 
 ling you say ? " 
 
 "Ah, but, Herr Laurentius, you are going too fast : 
 she is not mine to give, as I told you before. She
 
 30 INGELHEIM. 
 
 has a liome, tlioiigli it is possible her adopted parents 
 may give her up." 
 
 " What makes yon think so ? " 
 
 She had forgotten as she spoke, her voice a lit- 
 tle raised now under cover of the conversation 
 that followed the song, that this young man seated 
 so near would be likely to take any interest in 
 her words. 
 
 " Mr Traherne," she said, for a moment discon- 
 certed. "Ah, now. Professor, I will introduce you 
 to the brother by adoption, and you can hear first- 
 hand wdiat I can only repeat. Mr Traherne," she 
 added, "has chosen and followed his own way in 
 life, so will probably sympathise with others who do 
 the same." 
 
 This last shaft, as she hurried away, was possibly 
 a swift feminine idea of carrying the war into the 
 enemy's country; but the German was too much pre- 
 occupied to heed it — his one idea was to gather from 
 this grave young man as much of Dolores' past as 
 possible, so as to realise how best to accomplish his 
 own wishes. 
 
 He did not learn much however. Jem Traherne 
 was not communicative, and the chief thing to be 
 gained from him was the presentation to his father. 
 
 The young man's words were few and all to the 
 point : that the girl had a home — that the word 
 foundling annoyed him — that she was as much part 
 of his home as his sisters were. That women were 
 best under tlie care of those who loved them, and
 
 INGELHEIM. 31 
 
 that as long as his father was ahve, three daughters 
 were as easy to guard and provide for as two. 
 
 " And afterwards ? " questioned his listener. 
 
 There was a shade of annoyance in Jem's face: 
 the question disconcerted him, though he answered 
 at once. " It will l)0 a long time, I trust," he began 
 gravely. 
 
 " I trust so also," Herr Laurentius replied. '•' But 
 you are providing for your future, so at least I am 
 told, is it not as well to let her provide for hers ? " 
 
 " Hers will be assured." 
 
 The voice was low, but its full import did not 
 escape his listener, nor the look that accompanied 
 it. It told to the older man all the hopes which 
 the speaker cherished, what the future would be 
 into which this black-eyed child would drift, if she 
 were left in ignorance of the possibilities life held 
 for her. 
 
 And the younger man felt only a momentary 
 fear that in some unguarded word his secret might 
 escape him, a secret which a look had sufficed to 
 place in the other's keeping. A momentary jealous 
 terror, in which he saw this future for which he was 
 working torn away from him — the little dark-eyed 
 girl no longer a safely guarded treasure in his home 
 awaiting the hour when he should be free to claim 
 her, but a successful artist, having learnt so mucli 
 that it would be impossible to retrace the steps 
 which led back to his side, steps so easily trodden 
 when they led away.
 
 32 INGELHEIM. 
 
 The introduction to Mr Traherne seemed to offer 
 more hope for the future. He was fond of the girl ; 
 indeed tlie question no more presented itself under 
 the guise of a question than would have been the 
 case about his own daughters, but when the German 
 touched npon her future it opened out before him 
 the knowledge that it was as well to consider what 
 might arrive. He was a comparatively young man, 
 but death was uncertain, and there would be but 
 small means to divide amongst wife and daughters. 
 It would not be right to overlook any means of 
 provision. He would think it over, would talk it 
 over with Mrs Traherne, and let the Professor know 
 at what conclusion they should arrive. 
 
 When the children were safe in bed that night, 
 he laid the matter before his wife, perhaps uncon- 
 sciously lending a tone of decision to his words 
 which had not been there when he first considered 
 the matter, but which had formulated as later 
 reasons had driven out previous uncertainties. 
 
 And his wife accepted the later tone, as it was 
 her w^ay to do. The want of reasoning powers in 
 a woman have often been commented upon. Why 
 does not a man more often profit by the fact, and not 
 bring forward his wishes till he has studied the 
 reasons with which they can be recommended? 
 
 It leaves no opportunity then for the sharp tongue 
 to expose the weakness of the armour, and sharp 
 tongues are oftenest the exception. The rule in 
 wifehood is certainly to be an Echo — better of course
 
 INGELHEIM. 33 
 
 than a Contradiction, if it lias to abide under the 
 same roof. 
 
 So when the little party met at breakfast it was 
 to see in each other's faces, hear in each other's 
 words, the advantages of the German's offer — should 
 he prove of the same mind and repeat the words 
 that had seemed almost a promise, the previous 
 night. Excepting by Jem, whose silence miglit have 
 been disapproval, or perhaps only habit, the future 
 was viewed in sunshine. 
 
 " Perhaps we were unwise to mention it before 
 the girls," Mr Traherne said later, " until we see 
 whether anything is really to come of it — it would 
 be disappointing if it was only a passing idea." 
 
 But this temporary shadow was swept away very 
 shortly by the arrival of a servant with a note, ask- 
 ing Mrs Traherne to send Dolores back with the 
 servant. 
 
 " Which means of course," she decided, " that 
 there is something in it. Put on your best frock, 
 Dolly, and come to me that I may see that you are 
 all right before you start. And try and remember, 
 dear," she added impressively, as she saw the girl off, 
 " how very much depends on your behaviour." 
 
 It was a nervous parting word, but Dolores was 
 not abashed by it. Life at the Parsonage flowed in 
 such a placid current, tliat any little change from 
 the daily routine was acceptable. 
 
 So Dolores trotted along the wet lanes by the side 
 of Miss Russell's maid, in a deliuhtful flutter of 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 34 INGELHEIM. 
 
 mingled joy and fear. It may be fairly doubted 
 if Elinor Eussell had ever given a moment's thought 
 to her godchild, except when they stood face to face, 
 since the moment when she had held her in her 
 arms at the font. 
 
 Her life was a brilliant and exciting one, and it 
 was intellectually that she was most in accord with 
 the rest of the world. 
 
 It was as lady of the manor, not as a pitiful 
 woman, that she had accepted so much responsibility 
 in little Dolores' fate, and it was with quite a differ- 
 ent feeling she had thought of her, with quite a dif- 
 ferent feeling she met her, since that conversation 
 she had held with Herr Laurentius the previous 
 night. 
 
 The slight sallow girl, who was considered at a 
 disadvantage at the Parsonage when compared with 
 the two fair daughters of the house, judged by her 
 more experienced standard, held possibilities of 
 future good looks which her companions did not 
 possess. 
 
 " She is awkward and unformed," passing the girl 
 in swift review, "but she will improve. She has a 
 pretty head and good eyes." 
 
 " Oh yes, granted the voice of which Herr Lau- 
 rentius seems so sure, she will be quite good-look- 
 ing enough. I almost w^ish I had adopted her to 
 interest my middle life, instead of reserving her for 
 my old age." 
 
 She drew the child nearer to her, bidding her sit
 
 INGELHELM. 35 
 
 down, and then proceeded to explain in full the 
 scheme which had now acquired perfection in detail. 
 
 The Professor, she explained, would take her to 
 Ingelheim, and in the household of some friends 
 of his, Dolores w^ould continue her education, "ivino- 
 her whole soul and time and energy to music. 
 
 " They are people who will be very kind to you. 
 The man is a musician, and is attached to the Court, 
 chietiy in the way of providing for its amusements ; 
 his daughter is very sweet, and will be a companion 
 for you, though she is older — correct me, Professor, 
 if I am giving wrong facts — and you will live 
 there and be very happy, Dolores, will you not ? and 
 you will become a great singer and be a success, 
 — that is what we all want to be, you know, and we 
 can't." 
 
 She paused, and took the girl's hand in hers. 
 
 '' Xow, Dolores, tell me what you think." 
 
 " If I go, for how long will it be ? and if I do not 
 sing as well as the Professor hopes, what will be- 
 come of me then ? " 
 
 Though she spoke quietly, there was a little 
 tremble in the slender hand, of which Miss Eussell 
 was aware. 
 
 "Yes, Professor," she said, turning to Herr Lau- 
 rentius, " Dolores is right ; we must understand 
 everything. Supposing she fails, what is to be- 
 come of her then ? " 
 
 She will not fail." He spoke defiantly. " She 
 will do what I wish, and she will succeed."
 
 36 INGELIIEIM. 
 
 "But if not," Miss Eussell persisted, "then she 
 must return home. She will be none the worse for 
 being educated." 
 
 " But I have no home." 
 
 The girl looked from one to the other, and under 
 the look the four eyes drooped a little; but in a 
 moment the Professor had recovered, crossed the 
 room, and sat down beside Miss Eussell. 
 
 "We will not contemplate failure," he said more 
 quietly, "but the child is right: it will not do to 
 take her away from those who have been kind to 
 her, unless her future in any case is assured." 
 
 " It is assured," IMiss Eussell answered quickly, 
 lifting her eyes ; " if you do not accomplish what 
 you hope, she shall have a home with me. It 
 would not be fair, of course, to expect the Trahernes 
 to give her up for our whims, and tlien take her 
 back." 
 
 " Perhaps I could teach music then, if I could not 
 sing." 
 
 " Yes, we will see to that if we fail in the other. 
 But now, take off your hat, child, and stand up and 
 let me hear you." 
 
 " She will do," he said, half an hour later ; " with 
 the training that I can promise her, she will do." 
 
 " And you are sure of your friends ? The child 
 must have a happy home." 
 
 " Yes, I promise that, and I shall myself see her 
 at intervals." 
 
 " And you, Dolores," turning to the girl herself ;
 
 INGELIIEIM. 37 
 
 " are you glad or sorry to think of going out into the 
 world ? " 
 
 " I know them all at the Parsonage," — her voice 
 faltered a little, — " they have been very kind to me ; 
 it is giving up so much " 
 
 "So much," repeated Miss Eussell. There was 
 infinite expression in the two words. "Why, my 
 dear child, you are not giving up; you are being 
 helped out of a narrow dreary round of dulness 
 into all the brightness there is in the world." 
 
 " But if I don't like the world, or it does not like 
 me, I have lost this just the same." 
 
 " Experience, my dear, is always a gain, even if it 
 serves only to show you the value of things by com- 
 parison." 
 
 If she were not satisfied, she did not say so. Very 
 few people argued with Miss Eussell. There was 
 no many-sidedness to her character, which might 
 have helped her to understand through sympathy 
 the point of view of another. 
 
 A strong dominant will, which knew what it 
 desired, and seized and enjoyed it, had led her 
 through all the difficulties of a very difficult position 
 to the place where she now stood — a place where 
 she was free to do as she liked, and to be careless 
 of the laws which governed the rest of womankind. 
 She had made her own laws, governed her life by 
 them, and, what was more extraordinary, had reached 
 that point where otliers judged her by those self- 
 established laws ; but perhaps all these facts had in
 
 38 INGELHEIM. 
 
 a way helped to deprive her of the quick sympathy 
 which is so often a woman's heritage — for every 
 gain there is a corresponding loss. Dolores' future 
 opened out a possible vista of interest and pleasure ; 
 at any cost, it must now be worked out. To those 
 whose minds admit of weighing and judging facts, 
 the pros and cons are occasionally so evenly balanced 
 that the nice adjustment of the weights is not easy : 
 to Miss Ptussell no such difficulties arose. " Give 
 up ! " What was there to give up ? — the gain was 
 the point of consideration. But the actual measur- 
 able risk must be considered and prepared against. 
 And so, when all was finally decided, Elinor Eussell 
 came forward, in what Mr Traherne and Iiis wife 
 considered a most generous manner, and said that 
 she would allow her godchild £50 a-year during the 
 term of her tuition, so that she might be indepen- 
 dent ; and tliat afterwards, should the Professor 
 prove to have been mistaken, or should her health 
 break down, or any unforeseen calamity arise, 
 making it impossible for her to succeed in her 
 career, that she, Elinor Eussell, would provide her 
 with her home. 
 
 There was no apparent flaw, and yet when Dolores 
 found herself once more at the Parsonage with dull 
 uninteresting Mr and Mrs Traherne, she felt the 
 tears welling into her eyes at the thought that the 
 days were numbered in which they were to be a 
 part of her everyday life; and at night she stole 
 from her bed to kiss once more the Ihixen-Iiaired
 
 IXGELHEIM. 39 
 
 sisters in the next room, with whom she had lived 
 so long, and who yet were separated from lier by a 
 gulf so wide that the day might easily come in 
 which there w^ould be no way of recrossing it. 
 
 Sisters may be parted by the breadth of conti- 
 nents, or the wider barrier of years of separation, 
 but yet there is always a means of meeting : there 
 are the thousand connecting-links of one father, one 
 mother, one common home ; but for her, nameless 
 Dolores, all the past might be swept away, and she 
 would have no right to recall it, no sacred talisman 
 wherewith to conjure it up. These were new 
 thoughts, but they had forced their way in, and 
 taken up their abode, and now in the short space 
 of twenty-four hours they were in seeming the 
 companions of a lifetime.
 
 40 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "A brave, able, self -respecting manhood is fair profit for any man' 
 first thirty years of life." 
 
 But smoothly as everything seemed to go, all 
 possible difficulties overruled by the Professor's 
 enthusiasm and Miss Eussell's strong will, yet was 
 there one element in their midst which had as yet 
 been overlooked. 
 
 The Professor — perhaps the keenest -eyed of all — 
 had recognised the disapproval that the scheme 
 would meet with from Jem Traherne; but lie had 
 also recognised in addition that his position rendered 
 him incapable of doing more than disapprove, that 
 prevention was out of the question, and further, 
 that this was not a man who would waste words 
 over what he could not help. 
 
 Herr Laurentius was sentimental in his way, and 
 with one side of his stout nature he gave a sigh 
 to the young man's hopes, which he recognised were 
 likely now never to reach fulfilment ; with the other, 
 he rejoiced that his good luck had brought him here 
 just in time to prevent the young man attaining his
 
 INGELHEIM. 41 
 
 wish, and by doing so deprive him, Ludwig Lauren- 
 tius, of the chance of future fame that was now 
 dazzlincj his vision. 
 
 Miss Piussell was not a woman to take into con- 
 sideration wills which ran counter to her own, 
 especially when circumstances favoured her and 
 put the winning cards into her hand ; neither was 
 she sufficiently keen of perception to imagine that 
 there was likely to be serious disapproval. "When- 
 ever the thought of Jem came across her, it was 
 with a vague sense of admiration for a will strong 
 enough to have made its own way against such 
 difficult and adverse circumstances. But the thought 
 did not often come — he was no real power in her 
 life; until this question of Dolores' future arose, 
 he was scarcely less shadowy than the rest of his 
 family. If she had known and realised, she still 
 would not have sympathised ; at any rate she would 
 have gone her own way just the same, but she would 
 have admired — honestly admired — the strength of 
 character which was capable of at once deciding 
 where action would be futile, and quietly accepting 
 the inevitable. 
 
 In similar circumstances she would have shrugged 
 her shoulders and said, There is no use fighting 
 against fate, but fate means so nuuiy things. And 
 fights, with strength and beauty and fortune and 
 talent on one side, and fate on the other, are more 
 apt to be successful than those in wliich all the 
 disadvantaiijes of life are called into the battle-field.
 
 42 INGELHEIM. 
 
 Even fate seems to recognise the uselessness of a 
 fight with so much of which the world approves. 
 
 And this — though perhaps not in these words 
 — Jem knew, and when he learnt that everything 
 was decided, that Dolores would soon cease to be the 
 inmate of the home where she had now lived for 
 thirteen years, he bowed to the inevitable, for so the 
 present seemed ; but it was with the passionate 
 strength of a silent nature, which finds no relief in 
 vain words, and cannot understand the solace of 
 vain action. 
 
 The afternoon was wet and cold ; east winds had 
 invested this May with little promise of spring, 
 and after a silent gloomy luncheon, he put on his 
 hat, regardless of the rain, which was still falling, 
 and started, scarce caring whither, for a walk, which 
 led him, before he was well aware of it, many miles 
 from home — far beyond the region of smoke and the 
 necessarily dreary surroundings of a mining village, 
 into the stretch of country that lay beyond. A 
 country dull and depressing now, under the com- 
 bined influences of rain and east wind, but which 
 yet was country — trees with the fresh green of 
 early spring, scentless violets among the ferns by 
 the roadside. It was already late when he paused 
 in his rapid walk and looked around to realise how 
 far he was from home, and that there was nothing 
 to do but, wet as he was, to return the way he had 
 come, a dismal prospect, as it was already twilight. 
 
 But despite the walk, he had not arrived at any
 
 INGELHEIM. 43 
 
 clear decision as to what he should do, or indeed 
 whether there were anything to be done. It was 
 exasperating to feel that with all the strength which 
 he had already tried and proved, that in this matter, 
 on which it seemed so much depended, he could do 
 nothing. 
 
 The girl herself was too young — he was certain 
 no thought of a personal future had as yet dawned 
 — and now this prospect of brilliant success would 
 take the place of that otlier happy life which he 
 had hoped w^ould have gradually opened out, and 
 cliarmed her into safety and love. 
 
 To speak too soon would be unwise — love's deli- 
 cate blossom must form in nature's own tender 
 careful way ; man's rough hand attempting to open 
 it too soon, is likely to prove a dismal failure : he 
 knew this, felt it, whenever he was with the girl, 
 whose dark eyes looked at him with the tender 
 affection of a sister, whose kiss he had known night 
 and morning every since her babyhood. A word, a 
 careless look or touch, might banish all that and give 
 instead — everything or nothing ; the better part 
 seemed to be to say nothing, and let her drift away 
 into the silence of separation, and leave the necessary 
 future awakening to other circumstances — perhaps 
 to some other man. 
 
 Little to be wondered at was it then, tliat when 
 late at night he arrived at the door of the Parsonage, 
 wet, and wearied alike in mind and body, the sight 
 of him caused expressions of wonder.
 
 44 IXGELHEIM. 
 
 " Where have you been, Jein ? " His mother's 
 voice was feebly anxious, his father's feebly irri- 
 tated. 
 
 " Had no dhiner ? Why, it is nine o'clock, where 
 have you been ? I thought, of course, you were 
 dining somewhere." 
 
 But when she realised liow wet he was, and that 
 he was feverish in addition, all the little vexation 
 was laid aside, and Mrs Traherne began suggesting 
 remedies. The care w\as almost more unbearable, 
 Jem felt, under existing circumstances, than the 
 previous irritation ; but he accepted the suggestion 
 of going to bed, and trying if a hot drink would stop 
 an incipient cold — at least it would ensure solitude. 
 AVith his door locked, he could continue the train 
 of thought, and try to arrive at some wise solu- 
 tion of the problem. But first, whilst his mother 
 was fussing about, giving kindly directions for his 
 comfort, he stole down-stairs again and opened the 
 sitting - room door with no especial intention, but 
 yet he was disappointed when he saw his sisters 
 were the only occupants. 
 
 "Where is Dolly?" 
 
 " She has gone to bed, I think," Mary answered, 
 lifting her head for a moment from a massive piece 
 of woolwork. " But " 
 
 " No," her sister interposed, " she is copying a 
 sermon for papa — at least she was a minute ago. 
 Do you want her ? Shall I call her ? " 
 
 They were good amiable girls, and were always
 
 INGELHEIM. 45 
 
 willing to do their brother's behest, provided there 
 seemed to be no particular reason why they should 
 not. They had considered, not without horror, the 
 decision which had cut him adrift from ordained 
 authority, and had pLaced him in a new position ; 
 but that position attained — constituted authority 
 conquered as it were — they w^ere now quite ready 
 to accept the self-appointed government. There 
 will always be found those ready to fear every re- 
 bellion, whether for good or evil, but quite ready 
 to accept successful rebellion as the new king. 
 
 For a moment he hesitated, as if inclined to accept 
 his sister's suggestion, but if he did, in his present 
 state of mind, what was there to say, and, " No, 
 thanks," he said Itriefly, turning away ; but it was 
 across the narrow hall he slowly walked, not up- 
 stairs, and before he had given it another thought, 
 he had opened the little study door opposite, and 
 was standing in the small room, where, by the light 
 of one candle, Dolores sat at a much ink-spotted 
 table, copying a sermon on to pages of imposing 
 size. 
 
 " Jem ? " She lifted her eyes at the opening door, 
 and smiled in ready welcome. For a moment he 
 had nothing to say, all his previous doubts crowd- 
 ing in upon him, then he was speaking. " Dolly, is 
 it your own wish to go to Ingelheim ? Have you 
 really considered the matter ? Are you not happy 
 here ? " speaking more excitedly. " Why do you 
 wish to leave your home ? "
 
 46 INGELHEIM. 
 
 Having spoken, it seemed to him that he had said 
 the very words he had determined to leave unsaid, 
 and he looked nervously for a counterbalancing ex- 
 citement, but there was none. Tears came into the 
 girl's eyes, she dropped her pen and rose from her 
 place, laying her hand on his rough wet coat. 
 
 " Ah, Jem, do you not know how unhappy it 
 makes me to leave you all ? But it would not be 
 right not to accept such an offer. It is always 
 possible that I may succeed. They say so." 
 
 " But if you don't ? You are giving up so much 
 for a chance. ' 
 
 " I should have to give it up sooner or later." 
 
 " AYhy, why ? Women should be content to stay 
 at home." 
 
 Then, with a little conscious pride in the memory 
 of how he had fought his own battle, " With men it 
 is different : it is their duty to go abroad. Women 
 should leave the rough work to them." 
 
 " But, Jem," she spoke timidly, and her hand 
 clasped his coat-sleeve tighter, " for me it is different. 
 That is all very w^ell for other women." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Well, you know, I have no home, no one to work 
 for me. I must work for myself, and the sooner I 
 begin the better." 
 
 They were both a little old-fashioned in their 
 ideas. To Dolores, the idea had never come that 
 there was any loss of dignity involved in the tliought 
 of dependence. It was tlie lot of women to be de-
 
 INGELHEIM. 47 
 
 pendent on some one — unless they chanced to be 
 in her own unhappy position, when there was no 
 choice but to figlit the world on her own account. 
 
 To Jem, it was right that so it should be. Men 
 were given health and strength to prepare homes 
 and ease for those they loved — to him it was almost 
 a law of nature that so it should be. The ideas of 
 the modern world on such a subject had not pene- 
 trated the four walls of Beverley Parsonage. 
 
 " This is your home," he said, sturdily, but with 
 a certain rough tenderness, " if you are content to 
 stay here — and wait," he added, more slowly. " By- 
 and-by, when I have done a little more, and am 
 freer, I shall make a home for you." 
 
 " But, Jem " — there was still a tremor in her voice, 
 which responded in part to his kindness — " you are, 
 after all, not a brother. Cannot you see that a day 
 will come when this will be no home for me. If I 
 have indeed the capacity for earning my livelihood, 
 I must make what use I can of it." 
 
 He heard her in silence, because all the time 
 she was speaking he was still weighing the pre- 
 vious doubts; but when he looked down into the 
 clear eyes, the slight hand on his arm, he hesitated 
 aGfain. No, he w^ould wait. Tliouc!h that involved 
 letting her go. AVhat could he, indeed, advance 
 against it ? 
 
 " I shall go out at Christmas," he said, when he 
 spoke next, " and see for myself that you are happy 
 and well cared for, and content to continue. You
 
 48 INGELHEIM. 
 
 promise me tliat wlien I go you will tell me the 
 truth ? " 
 
 That seemed easy enough — the girl promised. 
 
 " And you must write to me — I mean letters to 
 my address — and in them you must tell me exactly 
 what you do, and whether they are kind to you. 
 If you are not happy" — he had turned away, but 
 as he said those w^ords he came back to her side — 
 " you will tell me, and I will see that you come 
 back." 
 
 " Dear Jem " — she stroked his hand gently : kind 
 as he always had been, he was by habit so silent 
 that this expression of his goodwill and care of her 
 seemed strange — " you need not fear for me ; I will 
 write and tell you everything, just as if you were in 
 truth the brother that you have always been." 
 
 It was not much, but it was a safe foundation, 
 Jem in his imorance of life imaciined. " It will be 
 easy," he thought, as, cold and wet, he made his way 
 up-stairs, " to slip from the one love into the other. 
 By-and-by, when she is a little older, she will notice 
 the difference, and take the further step. In the 
 meantime I can wait and work."
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Reaching forth from tlie taDgil)le blossoms, 
 Reaching far for impossible things." 
 
 Never in later life is it possible for any step — lead 
 where it will — to appear as important as that first 
 one which leads from the calm organised everyday 
 life known from childhood into the world that lies 
 Ijeyond that secure anchorage. How much greater 
 is the difference when it involves leaving a quiet 
 English village and waking up in an unknown Ger- 
 man town, whose quiet dreamy inactivity seemed to 
 the country girl a very vortex of gaiety — a town where 
 novelty and sunshine and strange foreign tongues 
 emphasised at every turn the vast gap between now 
 and then ! Though Dolores had regretted a little at 
 first the accustomed home, there was so much that 
 was novel, the novelty in itself proving an opiate, 
 that youth soon ceased to mourn, and was ready to 
 be happy in what it had attained, laying aside as 
 much as possible the thought of the price paid. The 
 price is light until some moment teaches, probably 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 INGELHEIM. 
 
 unwittingly, that it means that tliere is no going- 
 back. For so long are we lured with the phantasmal 
 hope, that if we do not like this, we will return to 
 that. 
 
 The home of which the Professor had spoken, the 
 home to which he himself had brought her, was 
 French — a French father and daughter; but their 
 lives, their thoughts, their business, were cast 
 among Germans, and the French tongue was only 
 heard in the rare intervals when the two found 
 themselves alone. 
 
 To Dolores, on the night when she arrived, tired 
 and home-sick, and nervous in the presence of the 
 Professor, whose silences and furious bursts of talk 
 were alike terrifying, there was something home-like 
 at once in the sight of the quiet gentle-mannered 
 woman who came to meet her, who kissed her, and 
 spoke to her in English — foreign English, it is true, 
 but quite intelligible — and who took her at once to 
 a prettily furnished room, and after a little kindly 
 talk prescribed supper and bed. 
 
 " You are too tired to come down-stairs, Dolores, 
 — is that your name ? it is very pretty, though rather 
 sad, — are you not ? I w^ill come back to you when 
 you are in bed ; in the meantime I must go and make 
 sure that my father and the Professor have what 
 they need. They will talk, talk all night, and when 
 they get excited you will hear them, because their 
 voices are rather loud. But no one minds : they are 
 friends, though they quarrel so much."
 
 IXGELHEIM. 51 
 
 She smiled a little; but it was the grave quiet 
 smile of one to whom laughter was strange, and 
 Dolores felt a thrill of confidence in this other girl 
 so little older than herself, perhaps not more than 
 five or six years, and threw her arms about her in 
 an unaccustomed tenderness, born of her own loneli- 
 ness. " You will be like a little sister for me, Do- 
 lores; I am so much alone." She blushed a little, 
 a very faint colour which came and went directly 
 under her clear skin. " My name is Emilie," she 
 added, as if seeking some words to finish her sen- 
 tence. She was not pretty, only gentle and intelli- 
 gent-looking. The hair that waved naturally, and 
 the perfect oval of her face, were her only claims to 
 the beauty which, until you analysed the features, 
 you felt must be there ; but to those who knew her 
 well, to whom the intelligence and the gentleness 
 appealed, there was a beauty unapparent to the less 
 discerning. 
 
 Now, in these four months in which Dolores had 
 lived with her, there had sprung up between the two 
 an intimacy which it seemed to her was closer, more 
 tender than that which had been the result of all 
 those years at Beverley. She blamed herself slightly, 
 recoi>;nisin" the immense debt she owed to those who 
 had had pity on her deserted babyhood. If they had 
 not, if — as might so easily have been the case — a 
 workhouse had been her home, what would her life 
 have been now ! 
 
 She was not very imaginative, she did not see the 
 
 < -^ 
 UBRAW ^in 
 
 uNivERsmr 0^ n**w«^
 
 52 INGELHEIM. 
 
 Tralicrnes tlirough biilliaiit-tinted glasses ; but she 
 acknowledged in her heart the debt she owed, and 
 pnt aside as much as possible any thought of their 
 shortcomings. She had had of their best; to be 
 critical because it seemed as if there were a better 
 than their best, wonld have been a despising of the 
 widow's mite in her estimation. The wider horizon 
 had granted a facility for comparison of wliich she 
 had previously been incapable ; but to a right judg- 
 ment degrees of comparison are only degrees — the 
 better does not obliterate the good. 
 
 She had grown older in the time ; the companion- 
 sliip of a woman older than herself had matured 
 her, perhaps the abrupt alteration of surrounding 
 conditions, the unaccustomed responsibility, had 
 also had somewhat to say to the ripening of her 
 character. Besides, every month, when childhood 
 is over, tends as surely towards womanhood as an 
 opening leaf or expanding bud to its summer per- 
 fection, when once the touch of spring has been 
 laid upon the land. 
 
 Her life, too, was very fully occupied ; her musical 
 education of itself demanded for theory and prac- 
 tice the better part of the day, and in addition her 
 general education was not neglected. French and 
 German were easy to acquire under present circum- 
 stances, and her future career demanded a knowledge 
 of Italian. So with all this work and the preparation 
 it demanded, there was not much time except for 
 necessary fresh air.
 
 INGELHEIM. 53 
 
 The i^retty house in which the Desprez lived was 
 separated by a narrow, scarcely frequented road, 
 from a hvAi dead wall, above which waved the 
 branches of tall trees, and through an iron open- 
 worked door were glimpses of a far-reaching park, 
 ending in a dim vista of the spray of fountains and 
 brio-ht a;leams of flowers. 
 
 This precinct was the park in which was hidden 
 the Palace of Ingelheim. To this little gate J\I. 
 Desprez held a private key, which admitted him to 
 a speedy and privileged entrance to the Court the- 
 atre, at which most of his now world-wide music 
 had made its first appearance. 
 
 His jovial, beaming, well-contented face and burly 
 fiGfure were as well know^n in Inc'elheim as those of 
 the little Prince or his beautiful mother, and on his 
 morning walks there were almost as many hats 
 raised to him as to the dwellers in the Palace. 
 
 His cheerful honhomic had warmed the heart of 
 Dolores towards him. The lessons she had feared 
 had become a delight : his words were always en- 
 couraging, his smiling good-humour saw the whole 
 world through bright glasses. FaHure ! such a word 
 M as not in his dictionary. " Look at me," was the 
 unspoken text of his sermon — " look what I have 
 done ! you must not fail ; copy me, be a success." 
 
 By success he meant the well-earned plaudits 
 of the multitude for the man who had honestly 
 striven to please them ; but sometimes it entered 
 vaguely into Dolores' head to wonder if those
 
 54 INGELHEIM. 
 
 plaudits were really the best test — if, fur instance, 
 M. Desprez even would not have done better work 
 had he not considered them the test ? But it was a 
 difficult question to answer, and a perplexing ques- 
 tion to one who had never known success or failure, 
 nothing but dead level mediocrity, until now. 
 
 It was most often in Emilie's company that she 
 took her daily walks ; but to-day it was alone she 
 had turned the key and had entered into tlie 
 secluded park. 
 
 The Palace was shut up at present, and during 
 the summer months of solitude the privilege of 
 entrance by the small gate was extended to the 
 members of M. Desprez' family. 
 
 There was a prophecy of autumn in the air, a 
 tinge of yellow over the trees in the park : it would 
 take but a little more to banish summer memories. 
 Dolores wandered on, until of a sudden a turn in the 
 road brought her from the smooth turf and great 
 trees of the park to the garden immediately around 
 the Palace, to a large lake on which swans floated, 
 brooding whitely above their white reflections, water- 
 plants above its placid waters, white marble steps 
 leading down into its still depths. Here she paused, 
 pleased unknowingly with the quiet and beauty of 
 the place, over which the soft veil of a still autumn 
 evening was settling. 
 
 As she stood thus, a man appeared in the path she 
 had quitted ; his head was bent as if in thought, his 
 tall slight figure stooped a little as he leaned some-
 
 INGELHEIM. 55 
 
 what on his stick, as if its support were gratefuL 
 It was somewhat of a surprise, when he lifted his 
 head as he approached the lake, to discover that the 
 face w^as young and the eyes bright — they were out 
 of keeping with the figure, which might have be- 
 longed to a much older man. He raised his hat 
 when he saw the girl, and moved directly to her 
 side. 
 
 She knew him well, though she had not often 
 spoken to him. He was one of those pupils for 
 whom Charles Desprez had prophesied early brilliant 
 success, and who had reached the age of seven-and- 
 twenty, prematurely aged by reason of ill health, 
 without one laurel-leaf plucked of all the many that 
 were to have formed his chaplet. At seven-and- 
 twenty to be a poor musician, teaching for his daily 
 bread, was a form of failure that to M. Desprez was 
 not pitiable, but despicable. '' And he has it in 
 him," he had said many times, " I am never mis- 
 taken. If he had chosen, he might have done as I 
 have done." It was certainly a very different result — 
 if this were result — but we are so apt, in ill-judged 
 haste, to decide that that which is not evident to 
 our coarser senses does not exist. Xature works in 
 so many ways, keeping her end ever in view. The 
 blossoming of an aloe, we are told, takes a hundred 
 years. To those who saw it in its youth, the promise 
 of its flowering seemed a far-off impossible dream, 
 but at the flowering who would be found to grudge 
 the years of patient waiting.
 
 56 IXGELIIEIM. 
 
 "And how does the voice get on ?" he questioned. 
 " Desprez is satisfied ; you are going to do him 
 credit, I hope ? " 
 
 " It will be a serious matter if I fail," she re- 
 plied, her mind reverting to all she had heard on 
 the subject. 
 
 " Let it be true success," the man said, " and then 
 you will have nothing to fear, whatever the result 
 may be." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she questioned, coming a 
 step nearer. They were standing together now by 
 the marble steps that led, white and gleaming, down 
 into the waters of the lake, and it was into their 
 depths he looked as he answered. 
 
 " True success is the best of which we are capable; 
 if we are conscious of having striven for that, it does 
 not really matter if the world is dissatisfied." 
 
 " It ought not to matter, perhaps," she persisted, 
 " but it does." 
 
 lie lifted his eyes then and looked into hers. 
 
 " No, no," he said, " it does not. You are too young 
 yet even to judge of what is success and what is 
 failure ; but when the time to understand and to 
 choose has come, take care you choose aright." 
 
 "But if every one praises and admires," her 
 thoughts were still runniuGf in the same groove as 
 before she met him, " don't you think other people 
 must be able to judge ? " 
 
 " Other people," he answered, gently, " do not 
 know of what we are capable ; but we know, or
 
 INGELHEIM. 57 
 
 should know, if we were not afraid of trying our- 
 selves by the one great unfailing test." 
 
 " Yes ? " she said questioningly, as he paused. 
 
 " Truth. Take that torch into your own heart and 
 light up its dark corners, and it will show you more 
 than the world will ever do. But then," he added 
 in lighter tones, " you must be content if people call 
 you a failure. AVe have only one life, you see, in 
 wdiich to work, and Truth is often the result of many 
 lives." 
 
 After he had spoken there was silence, and when 
 it was broken it was by the man: the girl was still 
 trying to piece together his words, and fit them in to 
 her new experience of life. 
 
 " This is a favourite walk of yours, is it not ? " 
 
 ''Yes, we — that is. Miss Desprez and I — often 
 come here ; generally in the early morning, before 
 my lessons begin : to-day I have had a holiday, M. 
 Desprez has been away all day." 
 
 " You must make the most of your time, for I 
 suppose another month will see the Court re-estab- 
 lished and the theatre reopened. That will mean 
 banishment from here, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so." 
 
 " Well, you are here by right : I am not, or only 
 by such right as an obliging gardener can grant ; but, 
 after all, once inside on any terms, it is all one's 
 own. Do you know the saying, * That which we do 
 not understand, we do not possess ' ? " And, as she 
 shook her head doubtingly, " The best part of every-
 
 58 INGELTIEIM. 
 
 thing is owned by liim who sees and appreciates. It 
 is better to look at a fine picture with an apprecia- 
 tive eye, and recognise its beauties, than to possess 
 so many yards of canvas, whose chief value is the 
 money you have paid for tliem. I love this garden 
 and these beautiful trees; I know them by dawn, 
 and at eventide, and in the mystery of moonlight, 
 and their beauty is my possession." 
 
 It was more to himself now than to the girl he 
 was speaking, but, as if aware of the fact, he 
 added, " Perhaps some night when I am strolling 
 about in the shadows of the trees, I may see the 
 * Grey Lady ' — she is said, like myself, to haunt the 
 gardens. Do you know her story ? " 
 
 " No — tell it me," Dolores said, and she looked up 
 with interest. 
 
 The light was fading now, but they were scarcely 
 aware of it, as they stood thus together, the girl 
 awaiting the promised story, the man weaving in 
 the legend into all the surroundings, — the sad half 
 lights, the yellowing foliage, gently approaching 
 winter. 
 
 " It is not much of a story," he said ; " but there 
 is a legend that when evil threatens the house of 
 Ingelheim, the ' Grey Lady ' walks. She only ap- 
 pears in moonlight, and she is all grey, and veiled 
 from head to foot, but sometimes she lifts lier veil, 
 and if her face is seen by one of her race, woe to 
 that man or woman. They are doomed to unhappy 
 love. Is not that a rouiantic story ? "
 
 INGELHEBT. 59 
 
 " Yes." Dolores did not smile ; she was on the 
 hither side of the stream, and the indefinite future, 
 with its possible good or evil, was sufficiently far off 
 to be impersonal. That otliers should suffer or have 
 suffered was likely enough — tliat she herself should 
 do so was unrealisable. It was interesting to learn 
 of pain that was too vague to cast a shadow. 
 
 " Is there anything known about her ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, there is a story," — he looked into the girl's 
 face again as he spoke, as if to remind himself tliat 
 it was to a listener he was speaking, not merely, as 
 usual, thinking the dreamy thoughts habitual to his 
 evening walk, — " but it does not tell us who the 'Grey 
 Lady ' was ; about her there is only a faint legend 
 that she was a captive brought from some far-off 
 foreign land, and that she paced these gardens, and 
 died here of a broken heart, when she found she was 
 no longer dear to him who had brought her hither 
 — that a wife had stolen her place in her captor's 
 heart ; but the story which gives significance to the 
 legend of the ' Grey Lady ' is of later date. In this 
 palace lived a young prince and princess, and about 
 the Court was a lovely girl — you see it was a common 
 enough story — the prince loved the girl, — what mat- 
 tered it for the wife ? Love had had little part in 
 the marriage ; she had her little son, her fine house 
 and gardens, she must be content. But she, poor 
 soul, she loved liim, you see, and divined immediately 
 what stood between them. 
 
 " ' The " Grey Lady " walks,' the people said with
 
 60 INGELIIEIM. 
 
 liushed breath, because to see her boded evil to the 
 house of Iiigelheim, so it were as well to say little — 
 and no one guessed that the slender form that crossed 
 the moonlit terraces and stole through the shadowy 
 trees bore under her filmy veil a passionate, beating 
 human heart. It was safe to haunt the dark silent 
 grounds and the lonely gardens in such a garb, and 
 so both prince and lady knew. 
 
 " But the crisis came. The princess — Why," break- 
 ing off abruptly, " why is it, do you think, that every 
 one is so anxious to make sure, when the certainty 
 means pain, and in the doubt there is hope ? You do 
 not know," as the girl shook her head — " of course 
 not. Well, the princess was like the rest of the 
 world, ' I doubt, break heart, but let me know ; ' 
 and so one night, when she fancied in the quiet 
 dusk she had seen the figure of the prince disappear 
 in the shade of the trees, she determined to follow 
 and know her fate, find out who it was that stood 
 between them. 
 
 "'The "Grey Lady "walks.' The rumour had readied 
 her also. Enveloped from head to foot in the filmy 
 veil that liad shrouded her at the altar, she would be 
 safe from curious eyes, safe from questioning voices. 
 Under its sheltering guise, when all the house was 
 liushed in sleep, she stole through the heavy-scented 
 flowers and dark shadows and the silver moonlight 
 until the waters of the lake were reached, where the 
 swans slept then as now, the lilies swayed upon its 
 surface, and from whence were visible the outlines
 
 INGELIIEIM. Gl 
 
 of a liouse, iidw fallen into ruins, which she fancied 
 might he tlie spot towards which the prince's steps 
 were directed. 
 
 " By the lake she paused under her sheltering veil, 
 and as she stood, close beside her, separated from her 
 but by a few steps, there appeared a tall shadow in 
 the moonlight. Picture it." 
 
 His eyes were no longer dreamy. They tiasluHl 
 with eagerness, as in the swift waning light he looked 
 at his companion. 
 
 " What a situation ! Both of them with such 
 wild passions warring in their hearts, both chilled 
 by the sudden terror that in the other they saw her 
 whom they were both alike personating. Here they 
 stood as we stand now, the trees casting dark sha- 
 dows in the brilliant moonlight, close together, two 
 poor, passionate, broken-hearted women, simulating 
 passionless calm, with the quiet waters at their feet, 
 the marble steps gleaming as to-day, the sleeping 
 swans, and over all the mystic moonlight," with a 
 swift comprehensive gesture. " Cannot you see it, 
 licar it all ? I do. It is of that I dream most often 
 when I stand here. One interprets others' sorrows 
 by one's own." 
 
 " What did she do ? " questioned Dolores, as the 
 man paused, " tell me." 
 
 " Ah, there was no choice for her. She loved, you 
 see; she had but one thought, because the memory 
 of the legend was full upon her. She moved swiftly 
 back, liiding her eyes, striving not to look ; but one
 
 62 INGELHEIM. 
 
 clear thoiio'lit throuQ;li all her terror. ' I will not see 
 your face,' she cried, ' it brings an unhappy end to 
 love ! ' But even as she spoke, the other woman 
 spoke also, though there was a tremor in her voice. 
 ' I do not fear you. You can bring no evil to me ; 
 unveil if you will, I am not of your race. The curse 
 will not fall on me.' 
 
 " What happened next — who can tell ! Perhaps 
 under her veil the princess saw, not the white ghostly 
 features she had feared, but rich, warm, livino; flesh 
 and blood, flashing black eyes she had known, a 
 slender lovely figure she had often seen. Perhaps 
 the girl caught some glimpse which told her by 
 whose side she stood, and tlie sudden movement she 
 made was to escape, or fly towards him who was 
 even now drawing near. But before he had reached 
 her side, there was a slip, a cry, and the waters had 
 closed above her, and husband and wife stood face 
 to face in the chill night, with no slender veiled 
 woman between them." 
 
 " Ah ! " the girl sighed, " that was best — best, I 
 mean, that she should die then. She did die ? " 
 
 "Yes, though the man did what he could she 
 was dead, but was it better for her to die ? If 
 a victim was necessary, would it not have been 
 better to take the other. It is a problem, an un- 
 answerable one, but I often think it over as I walk 
 here. Why do you say at once, it was best as it 
 was ? " 
 
 " She was tlie one in the wronu," the drl an-
 
 INGELHEIM. 63 
 
 swered, " even if slie were liappy then, it could not 
 have lasted." 
 
 " Eight ? wrong- ? Those are great questions to 
 decide in a hurry." 
 
 " The other was his wife," Dolores insisted. "It 
 was to her he owed his duty, he had no choice." 
 
 " You are young ; you only see a question from 
 tlie front, you cannot walk round it yet. Think of 
 another side. Afterwards the husband and wife alive 
 always together, at least one roof sheltering them, 
 and the memory of that moonlight night always 
 with them. Passion may be outlived, but cut short 
 like that it is petrified into a memory, which would 
 take the place of all the joys of life. "What chance 
 would the living wife have compared with the dead 
 mistress ? There," breaking off, " you are not old 
 enough to reason or understand, — you can only listen 
 to my ravings. But the story is a tragic one — some 
 day I shall embody it all in music." 
 
 They were too interested in their talk to be 
 aware of the rapidly closing twilight, and they both 
 started when a voice reached their ears. But at the 
 sound it was Antoine Liitz who looked round (piickest, 
 and who first spoke. 
 
 " Kmilie ? " 
 
 It was evident for the moment that Dolores was 
 entirely forgotten. Young as she was, set apart as 
 her youth had been from love, or any talk of it, 
 there was no need of an interpreter here, as she 
 glanced from Antoine Lutz to Emilie Desprez.
 
 G4 INGELHKIM. 
 
 There was no doubt now if slie wore pretty. With 
 tliat colour in her cheeks, and that tender look in 
 her eyes, she was more nearly beautiful than it 
 was possible for those who knew her usually to 
 imagine. 
 
 He had taken her hand, he still held it ; and there 
 was something in the tender eagerness with which 
 she looked at him, which suggested a mother's 
 anxious love more than the young passion of a 
 woman. 
 
 " You are not looking well ; you have been ill ? " 
 
 " I am not strong, as you know, but never mind 
 that now. Let us speak of other things; it is so 
 seldom we meet alone." 
 
 At the last word Emilie smiled, and turning, 
 took Dolores' hand in hers. 
 
 " No ; I am no longer always alone, I have a little 
 sister to love and care for. But we must not linger, 
 it is time that we returned. For you also the even- 
 ing air is bad, especially on a chill misty night like 
 this." 
 
 They turned away then under the shadow of the 
 trees, the man and woman side by side, speaking in 
 a lamruaoe which showed lonpj and intimate know- 
 ledge of each other's hearts and work ; their young 
 companion silent by Emilie's side, thinking over the 
 story she bad heard, letting it mingle vaguely with 
 this other story that was being told under the trees. 
 It was her first glimpse of the romance of the world, 
 and this slight delicate man, with the eyes that
 
 INGELHEIM. 65 
 
 seemed alternately burning with passion and soften- 
 ing into tender dreaminess, acquired a new interest. 
 
 Tlie others did not heed her presence ; she was 
 aware that under the darkening twilight Emilie's 
 ungloved hand rested in that of the musician, that 
 her steps grew slower as they approached the little 
 door in the wall where they must separate. Some- 
 thing then made her move on more quickly — beyond 
 reach of the voices which had sunk a little when the 
 moment of parting had come, and with her hand on 
 the lock she waited until, at a slight touch on lier 
 arm, she looked up to see Emilie standing alone by 
 her side. 
 
 Whiter than she had been wdien she saw^ her last, 
 and with a little tremble in her voice. 
 
 " It is growing late, Dolores ; we must go home, or 
 my father will have arrived and be wondering where 
 we are." 
 
 Her voice was very unsteady, and when she had 
 spoken she clasped the girl's hand with her slight 
 trembling fingers, as if to prevent her doing as she 
 herself had suggested, and open the gate; then in 
 the momentary pause she stooped and kissed her 
 cheek. 
 
 " We have loved each other for a long time " — her 
 voice was steadier now. " It is very unhappy as it 
 is, but do not imagine that I think he is mistaken. 
 If he had done as my father wished, we should have 
 been married long ago ; but I would not have you, 
 dear little Dolores, think that I regret." 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 INGELHEIM. 
 
 And at the puzzled look in the girl's face — "No," 
 she said again, "he was quite right, a man must 
 be free ; he would have been a slave if he had done 
 as my father wished, and lived on, just working as 
 he desired." 
 
 " But a woman should be free also," Dolores an- 
 swered. "You are old enough to choose — why 
 should you not marry him even as he is ? " 
 
 "With momentary interest, Emilie listened to the 
 girl. 
 
 " My father would not allow it," she said then. 
 
 " But he has no right," Dolores insisted, her sturdy 
 common-sense fighting the one objection, and with 
 all the insistence of youth, seeing but the one 
 broad barrier instead of the thousand slight dividing 
 strands. " If he cares, and so do you, why should 
 you sacrifice him ? " 
 
 It was a point of view that had not often occurred 
 to Emilie Desprez, to think that on any subject there 
 might be contending duties. Perhaps such was also 
 the case with Dolores, who with the enthusiasm of 
 romantic youth saw but the one side, whilst Emilie, 
 fearing her own heart, had taught herself to con- 
 sider but tlie other. Self-denial is often easier than 
 justice even to ourselves.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 '^ Make your own terms "witli life while you are fair." 
 
 AViiEN they re-entered the house, it was to find M. 
 Desprez had already returned and was awaiting- 
 them. More genial, more cheerful, more successful, 
 so it appeared to Dolores, than ever. Perhaps it was 
 the effect of contrast that thus impressed her. 
 
 His excursion, which had been to see a singer 
 wlio was to take part in the new operetta that was 
 to be produced during the winter, had been accom- 
 plished, and content and satisfaction was in every 
 word and look. 
 
 " It is such luck to have found her, and disen- 
 gaged ; she is just the actress I want. Enough 
 voice," with a little shrug of the shoulders ; " more 
 than enough beauty, which is really more important, 
 and — chic — ^just the very thing — she will ensure 
 success." 
 
 The word seemed always about : it found its way 
 into the very air they breathed. 
 
 " There is no fear of anything else," his daughter
 
 68 INGELHEIM. 
 
 replied, smiling kindly, " you will not have to take 
 off your laurel wreath yet." 
 
 '' No, I think not, though it is unlucky, they say, 
 to make too sure ; but know your audience, and then 
 give it what it wants, that is the royal road — and 
 talking of royal roads, the Princess returns almost 
 immediately, so that I have little time to lose." 
 
 " Is she to be allowed to hear Dolores sing ? " 
 
 " I shall put it off as long as I can, but it will 
 scarcely be possible, I fear, to prevent it. She is so 
 fond of anything new ; but it must be accorded as a 
 favour, and to her alone." 
 
 They had risen from table, and M. Desprez was 
 lighting his pipe as he spoke. " Know your own 
 value, child," he added, " that is a very important 
 thing to know. Always bear in mind that the world 
 is only too glad to put a low price on what it wants; 
 but remember also that it is quite prepared, if met 
 with a refusal, to pay a high one. Only you must 
 not make the mistake of offering what it does not 
 care for." 
 
 " But, father," Emilie suggested, gently, " the world 
 is made up of individuals, and they are not always 
 wise ; how should their judgment be infallible ? The 
 mistakes of individuals are proverbial." 
 
 " Perhaps so, but taken en masse it is different : it 
 is the judgment of the mass that creates the success 
 or failure of the moment, and there is little use 
 offering you a golden crown when you are dead." 
 
 Emilie looked unconvinced, thougli she said notli-
 
 INGELHEIM. 69 
 
 ing further, and the talk drifted away into the ap- 
 proaching winter season, and the music whicli it was 
 the duty and pleasure of ]\I. Desprez to provide. 
 
 Later, wlien Dolores had gone to bed, it was of her 
 the father and daughter spoke. 
 
 " Would it not be as well," Emilie had suggested, 
 " to keep her away from the Court if possible. She 
 is very young, only just sixteen, and it would, I am 
 sure, be unadvisable that she should see or hear 
 much that goes on there." 
 
 " She must learn the world," her father replied ; 
 " the sooner the better. She is young, of course, but 
 she must appear in public before long. There is no 
 use hiding facts from people. Look at yourself; 
 acclimatisation is the best thing." 
 
 " Yes," objected Emilie ; " but I was acclimatised 
 from my cradle — it will be different with her." 
 
 " Oh,, we will look after her," he answered, lightly, 
 " and she is wise and good : there is little to fear." 
 
 " And trusting," the woman answered. " It is a 
 pity, is it not, if it can be helped, that even lier heart 
 should suffer ? " 
 
 If there w^ere a shadowy irony in the words, it was 
 so unaccustomed that it passed unobserved. 
 
 " Hearts," and M. Desprez smiled, " hearts should 
 be healthy, and then they don't trouble their owners." 
 
 " Perliaps so ; but once wounded tliey cease to be 
 healthy." 
 
 It was not often Emilie Desprez argued even so 
 much with him with whuni she lived. Instinctively
 
 70 INGELHEIM. 
 
 she avoided topics of discussion. For herself, peace 
 was so dear that perhaps she was tempted to offer 
 too high a price for it ; and as to M. Desprez, he was 
 not one to seek below the surface, or even to fear 
 the search would be unpleasant. His somewhat 
 loud-voiced joviality was pleased best by correspond- 
 ing good temper and satisfaction in those with whom 
 his lot was cast. The sensitiveness that shrank from 
 exposing a wound, and dreaded any careless or rough 
 approach to it, found no response in him. Wounds, 
 ill health, all that meant a second place in life's 
 battle, and were to be avoided, because they jarred 
 upon his own satisfaction, and cast a cloud over his 
 little world. The characteristic had its good side for 
 those with whom he came in contact. If it were 
 impossible to avoid grief and trouble, the love of 
 sunshine made him willing to do almost anything to 
 relieve it, though naturally to avoid it was the first de- 
 sire, and the one which most often was carried out. 
 
 But to Dolores, unaccustomed to demonstrative 
 affection or an atmosphere of cheerful kindness, 
 there was much in Charles Desprez that appealed 
 strongly. For all their disagreements, he was dearly 
 loved by his daughter, whose keener sense judged 
 his mistaken views and narrow ideals, and to Dolores 
 his geniality and kindness were so dear that it was 
 real grief to fancy that he might be wrong : an 
 apparent contradiction to youth lets in so much 
 future doubt and difficulty, that to imagine selfish- 
 ness and egotism under the guise of constant good-
 
 INGELHEIM. 7 1 
 
 tempered geniality was far more difficult and painful 
 than under that of any disagreeable peculiarity. 
 
 The world is divided for us, to begin with, into good 
 and bad. To have the one almost imperceptibly 
 encroaching on the other's kingdom, usurping the 
 other's rights and wrongs, is confusing to all moral 
 sense, and destroys the foundations on which life is 
 built. Afterwards, we are content to admit that we 
 must adapt ourselves to the facts about us, and that 
 all our bitter disappointment, all our sorrowful crying 
 out, will not alter the world in which we live, and 
 that we must either rebuild on fresh and surer know- 
 ledge, or be content to remain amid the ruins of our 
 imagination. 
 
 A month later the leaves were all lying under the 
 trees in the park, and the trees themselves stretched 
 bare branches abroad under a dull rainy sky. 
 
 Even M. Desprez shivered as he stepped out into 
 the cold raw air to enter his comfortable brougham. 
 Though not susceptible to cold, there was something 
 so penetrating in the rain, which w^as scarcely more 
 than falling' fo<?, that it reached throudi his warm, 
 fur-lined coat. Standing for a second at his carriage- 
 door, looking back w^itli a smile to the window where 
 his daughter and Dolores stood, some one passed 
 him, walking slowly with bent head, apparently 
 heedless of the inclement night — passed him so close 
 that he was aware in a moment who it was, and 
 almost before realising it, he had spoken. " Good
 
 72 INGELHEIM. 
 
 evening." The passer-by paused at the voice, and 
 lifting his bent head showed the wan face and brill- 
 iant eyes of Antoine Llitz. 
 
 •' Good evening, monsieur," he repeated, as if 
 mechanically, then paused and coughed. 
 
 That first remark had escaped M. Desprez un- 
 intentionally, but now he was well aware of all he 
 would so gladly have escaped seeing. The thin over- 
 coat, so inefficient a protection against the soaking 
 fog — the cough — the worn, lined face. 
 
 "It is a bad night for you to be out in — these 
 first foggy nights are treacherous." 
 
 It is to be doubted if any one had ever heard 
 a liarsli unkind word from Charles Desprez, his 
 instincts and wishes were too kind; and yet his 
 daughter had never contemplated the possibility of 
 a fight witli him for the man she loved. 
 
 What is the unknown power that an egotist holds 
 in reserve, and by which he rules so successfully his 
 little world ? 
 
 But brought face to face with Antoine, a position 
 he would willingly have avoided, it was not of his 
 unhappy love-affair he was thinking — it is doubtful 
 if that would have distressed him much, even if he 
 could have realised it — but the self-evident fact that 
 the man was not properly clothed or fed. 
 
 In answer to his words, " I am on my way to give 
 a lesson," Liltz replied : " it is, as you say, a bad 
 night to be out in." 
 
 There was no i-ellection in the speech — there
 
 IXGELHEIM. 73 
 
 seemed indeed no possible answer to make to it. 
 A moment later tliey had separated again : Liltz 
 was continuing his walk, coughing more, as if the 
 disturbance of his dream had made his material 
 sufferings reassert themselves, conscious w4th the 
 loss of his dream that he was cold and wet and 
 hungry, with the prospect of an hour's lesson under 
 those disadvantageous ciixumstances ; while M. 
 Desprez, in his white shirt and diamond studs, 
 wrapped in his fur coat, was being driven rapidly 
 away to the Palace. 
 
 For a few minutes, haunted by the recollection 
 of him to whom he had spoken — so much haunted 
 that it needed a little sentence spoken aloud to enable 
 him to regain his previous conscious satisfaction. 
 
 " He had his chance," he said aloud, " few men 
 liave been given a better. I believe lie had it in 
 him to make his way in the world, and I am rarely 
 mistaken. But if a man does not accept his chance 
 when it is offered," — he shrugged his shoulders, — 
 " lie has, as a rule, made up his mind once for all." 
 
 Nevertheless, now and again, through the warm 
 darkness of the brougham, appeared the white thin 
 face of Antoine Liitz, something reproachful in it 
 which had no right to be there ; and which, not- 
 withstanding, made him vaguely uncomfortable. 
 
 That is the worst of sensitiveness ; discomfort 
 may approach it in so many forms that, in a world 
 liable to sorrow and sickness, mistake and failure, 
 even confident self-satisfaction and success is liable
 
 74 INGELHEIM. 
 
 to be met on its way, and be rendered uncomfortable 
 by tbat which in no way concerns it. Fortunately 
 there is always another side to the picture. To one 
 who lias learned the way to please his world, and 
 who fills the position of always successfully provid- 
 ing its pleasures, there is a sure and certain niche 
 always awaiting him. It is premature fame — but 
 possibly, like everything else, must be bought at 
 a price ; fame is averse to blowing trumpet -blasts 
 both during life and after death. Generally it is 
 this or that — and how unsatisfactory a trumpet- 
 blast would be to ears closed for ever, M. Desprez 
 would have argued — so having paid his price, which 
 necessitated also a fair amount of work, no one 
 should grudge him his reward. And few did. If 
 there was one popular idol in Ingelheim it was 
 Charles Desprez. And it added to his charm that 
 he was no veiled idol, but always ready and willing 
 to mingle with his worshippers. 
 
 To-night, when he was shown into the presence of 
 the Princess, at the sight of his happy fresh-coloured 
 face and tall fine figure, slightly inclining now to- 
 wards emhonpoint, there were evident tokens of satis- 
 faction. There was a pause in the conversation, and 
 many expressions of welcome, and to be welcomed 
 by Elvira, Princess of Ingelheim, with such a smile, 
 was worth something in the life of any man. 
 
 She was in truth a beautiful woman, a blonde, but 
 not languid and lustreless, as so many fair women 
 are, but a vivid blonde ; eyes of sapphire blue, which
 
 INGELIIEIM. 75 
 
 one felt could Hame with passion ; hair of sunny gold, 
 in tliick masses about a well-poised proud head ; a 
 fair complexion, into which the colour seldom came, 
 but a fairness intensified by the arch of the brows of 
 a darker shade than the bright hair, and the long 
 straight lashes. A tall woman, with a full, beautiful 
 figure, everything about her denoting the imperious 
 pride of power and beauty ; and yet, withal, a some- 
 thing that told, that with all it had to give, life 
 sufficed but little to satisfy the spirit that slept, or 
 perhaps suffered, behind those lovely eyes. Such 
 was, outwardly at least, the mother of the little 
 Prince, whose blond head and smiling eyes w^ere 
 well known, as he rode on his pony or drove by 
 his mother's side through the streets of Ingelheim. 
 No siijns of discontent for the moment : she was 
 smiling, and perhaps the slight sense of dissatis- 
 faction was only a shadow one felt miglit darken 
 the eyes, never alter the youthful contour of the 
 face, which was more round than oval, with a mouth, 
 a trifle large perhaps, but beautiful in form : it w\as 
 the face of a brilliant living woman, over which the 
 lights and shadows passed in quick succession, and 
 which it would have been difficult, beautiful as it 
 was, to picture carved in marble. Splendid possi- 
 l^ilities, one might have said and sighed ; for possi- 
 bilities have a way of being crushed out of fulfilment 
 when a woman stands alone at five-and-twenty in a 
 [)Osition where flattery is more obtainable than help ; 
 where power has been given into hands before the
 
 7 6 INGELHEIM. 
 
 discipline of life has taught its fateful use. The 
 chances are in favour of a strong undisciplined 
 nature, only held in check by pride, writing its 
 own life on the lives of those around. 
 
 But of moralists and observers there were not 
 many here. Most of those present envied or ad- 
 mired, as the case might be, giving little thought to 
 the real life of the girl married in the full spring 
 of youth to the widowed greybeard, who had died 
 so shortly after, leaving her with the little fair- 
 haired son. A loveless marriage, three years of 
 loneliness, to which flattery and admiration had 
 been willing servitors — and as an inheritance the 
 passionate blood of Venetian ancestors, as well as 
 their proud beauty and bright hair ; and in addition 
 deep down, out of sight, a modern complexity of 
 thought and feeling, which made the very life she 
 chose and lived, which she enforced in those about 
 her, seem unsatisfactory and empty. 
 
 It is sad to have realised better things, and to be 
 obliged to resign them and accept the worse ; but 
 it is sadder to have the instincts which seek for 
 something beyond the daily bread, and not even to 
 know what it is of which we stand in need. 
 
 "Welcome, monsieur; you bring good news. I 
 trust all goes well with the rehearsals ? " 
 
 " All goes well, your Highness," he repeated. 
 
 " And how soon may we hope that our curiosity 
 will be gratified ? One week ? Two ? " 
 
 "You will stretch your curiosity, will you nut, until
 
 INGELHEIM. 77 
 
 the Xew Year, and in the meantime it shall not be 
 idle waiting, I promise." 
 
 " There is only one law that is never disobeyed in 
 Ingelheim," she retorted, with a smile, " and that is 
 the will of Monsieur Desprez. Sit down and tell me 
 all that you have to tell, — about this new pupil ? 
 Is curiosity to wait in that case also ? " 
 
 There was little etiquette demanded at these 
 weekly tea-drinkings, and by those to whom the 
 cntrdc was given, they were much enjoyed. By some, 
 perhaps by those on wdiom the doors were shut, it was 
 considered that etiquette might have held a tighter 
 rein; but after all it was but a small slight. shadow 
 of a Court, and the reins w^ere in such young hands 
 that there was little cause to wonder at the result. 
 
 There was music and talkinsj, cards, and some- 
 times needlework in the hands of the ladies about 
 the Court, who, whilst the Princess was amused, 
 were free to amuse themselves also. 
 
 As is the habit also, where there is one recognised 
 will which has to be obeyed, when ennui, or dis- 
 satisfaction, or anything else worse, reigned in the 
 one lieart, its shadow was liable to fall thick and 
 dark on those around. To possess power of any sort 
 is likely to endue the owner with a lack of the per- 
 ception of proportion ; when self is the standard, 
 others' wants and wishes are apt to receive scant 
 recognition. There were several notable -looking 
 people in the room — a celebrity of any kind was 
 always sure of a good reception ; and even to those
 
 78 • INGELHEIM. 
 
 wlio had not yet mounted the Ladder, but only 
 stretched out eager liands towards it, there was a 
 welcome. It flattered and pleased Princess Elvira 
 that poets should sing her charms, and painters paint 
 her brilliant hair and blue eyes. 
 
 To-night there were several new people present, 
 M. Desprez recognised even as he talked, though 
 they were of no especial interest from his point of 
 view. But when his audience was over, and the 
 Princess had turned towards another, he joined an 
 elderly man standing apart for the moment watching 
 the talkers, and addressed him. 
 
 " Good evening. Excellency." 
 
 The man addressed turned a keen clever face 
 towards the speaker. Something of youth still in 
 the eyes despite the grey hair and worn face. This 
 was the man who gave wdiat ballast was needed to 
 that passionate impetuous woman yonder, who strove 
 with all the wisdom of age, and for the sake of the 
 affection he had borne her husband, to stand between 
 her and the follies which might have been accom- 
 plished. 
 
 For a moment it was as if his eyes, or perhaps his 
 mind, were noting something beyond, something in 
 which M. Desprez's comely satisfied person had 
 nothing to do, then it seemed impossible, as he 
 began to speak. 
 
 " So as usual, monsieur, you have made prepara- 
 tions to whet our curiosity, and postpone its grati- 
 fication."
 
 INGELHEIM. 79 
 
 " If tliat be indeed so, you owe me some grati- 
 tude." 
 
 " Yes, T am willing to allow we do ; but, remember, 
 an appetite that waits too long passes the healthy 
 sta^e of huncjer. When are we to be introduced to 
 our next emotional pleasure ? " 
 
 •' The Princess is willing to wait till the New 
 Year." 
 
 " So she thinks to-night." The elder man gave a 
 slight, almost imperceptible pause, and then added, 
 " Ikit you are a magician, a favoured and powerful 
 magician. You can do as you will." 
 
 " But it does not do to strain even magic power, 
 Excellency, when we have to deal with ladies." 
 
 " It is a source of power to recognise that fact, but 
 M. Desprez is not likely to make a mistake." 
 
 There was a smile of satisfaction on M. Desprez's 
 lace at the compliment ; but if he had meant to 
 answer it, he was prevented by the utterance of his 
 name by a lady who had been standing near him, in 
 a circle whose smiles and replies had attested the 
 brilliancy of which she was the centre. 
 
 " M. Desprez, I am forgotten, ignored ! wliich can 
 it be ? What have I done to deserve either ? " 
 
 It is difficult to describe some women ; impossible 
 often to bring their personality in evidence through 
 description. Virginia Shore was a fair, tall, slight 
 woman, with brown hair and eyes of a soft clear 
 brown. V>y the side of the glowing beauty of the 
 I'rincess, she looked slender and colourless, and yet
 
 80 INGELHEIM. 
 
 no one liad ever spoken to her, who had failed to 
 describe her as beautifuL 
 
 She was also brilliant and amusing, a necessary 
 passport to favour in this Court ; but in her brilliance 
 and wit there was a quality which made those about 
 her dread her enmity : somewhere, outside, beyond 
 the charmed precincts of the reception-room, there 
 were found those who dared to whisper that the 
 Princess feared the words that might fall from those 
 dainty lips — lips that somehow, even when they 
 smiled, gave a faint token that they could utter 
 little malicious, sharp - pointed words. But malice, 
 at least a faint sowpgon of it, wdien the speaker is 
 fair and young, and it is our acquaintances against 
 whom the shaft is winged, is a pleasing admixture 
 in the sweets of life. 
 
 She was of English parentage, as her name an- 
 nounced ; her father, Colonel Sir Lucian Shore, had 
 been attached to the Court of Ingelheim, had married 
 a noble German wife, and having adopted her land 
 as a home, had somewhat sunk his nationality in 
 hers. 
 
 He had died, so had his wife, and Virginia and 
 her brother had lived on in the only home she had 
 known ; companion, daughter in all but name, of the 
 late Princess, who had been mother-in-law to this 
 proud widowed beauty. 
 
 She resembled her fatlier, so those said who re- 
 membered the slight handsome man who had lived 
 here once upon a time, and had made himself re-
 
 INGELHEIM. 81 
 
 niembered, if not loved, by a certain brilliance of 
 speech which rarely had spared either friend or 
 foe. 
 
 But in the fair brown hair and eyes of his 
 daughter lived again the softer type of the German 
 mother, who had loved the dead Englishman so well 
 that even his hardness had been modified by her 
 tenderness ; perhaps, who knows, some of her tender- 
 heartedness may have been inherited as well. Though 
 by those who knew them it w\as commonly said that 
 all. the German tenderness had gone to the brother, 
 all tlie English hardness to the sister. 
 
 They w^ere alike, as brother and sister so often are, 
 in feature and voice, that indescribable something 
 wliich is called family likeness, and yet, similar as 
 was the type, the individuality was widely different. 
 She was smiling now as she addressed M. Desprez, 
 and in the smile was apparent all her winning charm, 
 as she turned towards him, soft white draperies 
 falling closely about her, a golden girdle round her 
 slender waist, gold ornaments in the light -brown 
 hair, which curled in soft natural curls about her 
 head, and shaded her white forehead- 
 
 " You did not wish to ignore me — then I suppose 
 I must conclude I was forgotten. Better to be hated ! 
 We are told that it is indifference — not hatred — 
 that is the opposite of love." 
 
 " It is easy to hide hate," quoted M. Desprez, 
 " hard to hide love, hardest of all to hide indif- 
 ference." 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " You have set me tliere a puzzle wliicli it will 
 take time and solitude to unravel. Tell me in the 
 meantime when we are to hear the new siren 
 sing." 
 
 " M. Desprez will not tell you that, for all your 
 enchantments and smiles, Miss Shore," his Excel- 
 lency here interposed ; " we have all tried, but he is 
 adamant." 
 
 " Ah, perhaps you have not tried the right way — 
 leave him to me." 
 
 " And how," asked M. Desprez, " are you going to 
 draw my secret from me, or try to do so ? " 
 
 "By flattery, dear monsieur. Men, you know, 
 like flattery, and women attention." 
 
 His Excellency laughed. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Shore, you know too much ; you 
 should not have learnt all that until you are as old 
 as I am." 
 
 '' On the contrary, Excellency, I mean to be pro- 
 fiting by my knowledge then. You, I suppose, spent 
 your youth in learning also." 
 
 " Learning ? " he repeated. The question was 
 lightly put, but there was a shade of something 
 beyond mere frivolity in her eyes, " Learning what ? " 
 
 " Oh, to understand what is invisibly going on 
 around you." 
 
 Between the laughing group, of which Virginia 
 was one, and the Princess, holding a low- voiced con- 
 versation at the other end of the room, stood a soli- 
 tary man's figure. He had been one of the talkers,
 
 INGELHEIM. 83 
 
 or perhaps listeners, until the girl had turned aside 
 to speak to M. Desprez, and then, as if unaware of 
 what he was doing, had remained on in the same 
 attitude, evident absence of thought in eyes and ex- 
 ])ression. A noticeable man enough ; handsome, 
 dark-eyed, dark-liaired, standing thus silent in the 
 gaily lit room. 
 
 When she had spoken, tlie girl's eyes did not rest 
 on his Excellency's face. They wandered for a 
 moment round the room, as if in careless amuse- 
 ment at all those therein, and in their passage they 
 rested for a moment on the smooth dark head that 
 came in their line of vision. Only for a moment — 
 from that they were immediately lifted to the keen 
 grey eyes watching her ; but now they held a faint 
 shadow of nervous defiance, or so it seemed. 
 
 " You are right, Miss Shore," the man replied ; 
 " but I suppose the main charm of the invisible is 
 that we can give it any interpretation we please." 
 
 " Prince Lescynski " — the dark-haired man had 
 drawn near, it was to him ]\Iiss Shore addressed 
 her words — " have you realised that his Excellency 
 is here amongst us, outwardly a safe friend, in 
 reality reading our thouglits and profiting l)y our 
 follies ? " 
 
 " 1 protest," objected his Excellency, but his eyes 
 were noting the two speakers. 
 
 "We must be a source of amusement, don't you 
 tlnnk, to any one who can see inside us ? " 
 
 '' Tliat depends on the seer," returned tlie man.
 
 84 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " I should think our follies, as you call them, would 
 not always amuse." 
 
 " Oh yes, they would," the girl replied, lightly ; 
 "because a seer is always old enough to have out- 
 lived follies." 
 
 " And you think that makes him pitiless," que- 
 ried his Excellency. " You are wrong, youth is far 
 harder." 
 
 " Viroinia." It was the Princess's voice that dis- 
 turbed the conversation. She was leaning forward, 
 and it was with sudden decision she spoke. " Vir- 
 ginia, let us have some music," and as Miss Shore 
 moved to the piano, with the graceful somewhat 
 swift step which was peculiarly her own, " Prince 
 Lescynski," the Princess said in her soft trainantc 
 voice, " I want to ask you about to-morrow's ride." 
 
 The decisive voice had necessitated a change. 
 The two separated, only the grey-haired spectator 
 was left, but his eyes glanced from the one to the 
 other as they moved away. They followed Virginia 
 till she was seated at the piano and had begun to 
 play one of Mendelssohn's songs, and then they 
 turned to where the man stood by the side of the 
 Princess. The absent-mindedness had vanished now 
 from the dark eyes, that had kindled into eager 
 interest. 
 
 A man of whom it would be safe to foretell that 
 when the time should come he would recklessly give 
 his all to gain his desire : a man of whom it would 
 be vain to predict his future, if his all could not
 
 INGELHEIM. 85 
 
 purchase his desire. " Fire and tow," was the grey- 
 beard's thought, but his looks wandered as he so 
 thouglit from the one woman to the other. 
 
 ^Mendelssohn's music was finished, no more was 
 asked for, and apparently taking that fact for per- 
 mission to leave the instrument, Miss Shore rose, 
 and the movement being unregarded, she returned 
 to the corner where M. Desprez still stood. 
 
 " Tell me about your new singer," she said. She 
 did not sit down, but remained standing with her 
 back to the curtains, from whence it was easy to 
 watch the golden -haired Princess still talking to 
 Prince Lescynski. 
 
 "A girl, is it not, an English girl, I am told. You 
 must bring her to me." 
 
 " You are very kind." 
 
 " Interested kindness, you would insinuate ? Well, 
 I daresay it is. We often want new interests here ; 
 but you are not going to bring her, all the same ? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " In the meantime you will gixe us something else 
 to amuse us ? We need it ; we have had a dull 
 summer," with momentary bitterness, " we want 
 something to help us to forget it." 
 
 " It is impossible for me to believe that you and 
 dulness could ever be companions." 
 
 '^ It is a secret which please hide, but the truth 
 is, that my brain creaks now as it revolves, so rusty 
 is it." 
 
 M. Desprez smiled.
 
 SQ INGELHEIM. 
 
 " Well, ^vllat shall I do for you ? An operetta, that 
 is already promised." 
 
 "Did it ever strike yon, monsieur, that to those 
 who live always on a stage, theatricals are no 
 novelty? No it would not" — she shook her head, 
 — " because you are not always on the stage, so it 
 is a novelty, 'and therefore an amusement. Tell 
 me," with sudden change of tone, " what has become 
 of your last pupil, Antoine Liitz ? I thought he 
 was destined to be a leaf in your laurel crown." 
 
 " I shared your hope at one time ; but he is opinion- 
 ated, and I fear suffering from the effect. And yet 
 I could have sworn ten years ago that he had extra- 
 ordinary talent." 
 
 " Perhaps it was genius ? " suggested Virginia ; " it 
 is sometimes more difficult to discover." 
 
 The w^ords were in a measure irritatino' in so 
 far that they recalled to memory, just as happier 
 sights had banished it, the worn face, the thin coat, 
 the harassing cough, that had this evening disturbed 
 him. 
 
 " Miss Shore," he spoke a little more quickly than 
 was habitual — it was annoying to have brought be- 
 fore him that which he had no wish to recall, " a 
 man is surely bound to make use of the help that 
 is offered him. If he refuses, he must be prepared 
 to take the consequences." 
 
 " He, I suppose, took a different view of things 
 in general from what you did ? " 
 
 " He took his choice," M. Desprez repeated ;
 
 INGELHEIM. 87 
 
 "probably he expected he would have both this 
 ami that. Fortune, however, seldom holds out both 
 hands," he added, sententiously. 
 
 " The old question, M. Desprez, was in his mind, 
 I suppose; ought we to utilise or to compel cir- 
 cumstance ? " 
 
 " He has found out his mistake, I think. But it 
 is a pity he was obstinate. I would have forced him 
 into a groove that would have set him above risk." 
 
 " You would have done for him as you have done 
 for yourself, eh ? Well, one can't do more than ask 
 one's neighbour to share one's light, whether a far- 
 thing dip or an electric lamp ; but the answer to the 
 old question is, that, as a rule, talent utilises, and 
 genius compels." 
 
 There was no apparent point to her words, no 
 apparent consecutiveness in those that followed. 
 
 " And Miss Desprez, is she well ? will you spare 
 her to me ? If I may not make the acquaintance 
 of the new star, I must have recourse to duets. You 
 will allow Miss Desprez to come and play with me ? " 
 
 The smiles had returned to M. Desprez, tlie seren- 
 ity to his soul. 
 
 Yes, of a certainty, Emilie would be delighted. 
 Miss Shore had but to name her own time. 
 
 There was a little stir in the room, the Princess 
 had risen, still talking to Prince Lescynski, and wa-s 
 standing with her back to the open fireplace, the 
 large fan with which she had been shading her eyes 
 from the llame unfurled.
 
 88 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " It is not for its beauty only," slic said, " I value 
 it ; it is historical also. See, this tiny gold pendant," 
 lifting it, so that the diamond fastening flashed in 
 the light, "holds a few drops of deadliest poison. It 
 was placed tliere in the days when poison was the 
 fashion." 
 
 She gave a little laugh as she spoke, but there was 
 none reflected in her restless eyes, which were turned 
 now towards his Excellency, w^ho had approached. 
 
 " What a terrible possession. Princess ! " he said. 
 " If I might advise, I should suggest replacing the 
 poison with attar of roses." 
 
 " No, never," she answered, " it is like every other 
 deadly thing — a power — that it is as well to hold 
 control over." 
 
 " May I see it ? " His Excellency took it into 
 his hands — a splendid fan with a jewelled crown, a 
 monogram, and depending from it the tiny trinket 
 which held the deadly secret. 
 
 " It lielonged to an ancestress of mine," the Prin- 
 cess explained. " She had it made in the days when 
 such poisons were to be obtained : it holds six drops, 
 I am told, but one, they say, would be sufficient." 
 
 " Does history not tell what was her object ? " 
 inquired Prince Lescynski. He had not spoken 
 before, but now he lifted his dark passionate eyes 
 to the Princess. " What did the lady require witli 
 such a weapon ? " 
 
 " Who knows ? " The Princess shrui?ijed her 
 shoulders slightly. " An enemy, a rival, herself.
 
 INGELHEIM. 89 
 
 who can tell what she meant to do ? Tradition says 
 she died before her opportunity came of using it, 
 and hence the fact of its being still unsealed." 
 
 " A pretty toy," his Excellency said, and handed 
 it back, " and a dangerous toy should it fall into the 
 hands of an unhappy woman." 
 
 The slightest flush passed over the fairness of the 
 Princess's face as she took it. 
 
 " And therefore so safe in yours," Prince Lescynski 
 observed. It was through his hands it passed back 
 to its owner. 
 
 She did not acknowledge the words, perhaps did 
 not hear them. Thei'e was a slight excitement 
 visible in her whole form, brought there as she told 
 her story. With just such golden hair, with just 
 such sea-blue eyes, might the other woman of those 
 bygone days have stood in her triumphant beauty, 
 the fan with its hidden power in her hand, when 
 she knew that now at length nothing stood between 
 her and her revenge. Only then, at that supreme 
 moment, deatli had stepped in, death, whose dogging 
 shadow she had for the moment forgotten. 
 
 " They lacked invention in those days." It was 
 Virginia's clear cold voice that broke the momentary 
 silence after the excitable words of the other woman. 
 " Instead of putting the rival out of the way, it 
 would have been just as easy to spoil her life for her." 
 
 " And how would you have suggested setting 
 about it ? " 
 
 " Ah, there are plenty of ways. Excellency, if one
 
 90 INGELHEIAI. 
 
 gives one's attention to it. Why, life is even con- 
 sidered too short for discomfort, at least that is a 
 lesson we niiolit, I am sure, learn from men, if we 
 chose to apply ourselves. It is possible to learn 
 valuable lessons, you see, from men as well " — with 
 a glance towards the fan — " as from women."
 
 91 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Opeuuess has the mischief, though not the malice, of treachery." 
 
 Virginia Shore had a sitting-room in tlie Palace, 
 with a view over the gardens, where Dolores had 
 met and talked to the musician. The two principal 
 windows looked towards M. Desprez's house, and 
 the little door to which he held a key ; but in a 
 deep recess — it was a queer old house, full of un- 
 expected corners — there was one tall narrow win- 
 dow from which were visible the waters of the lake. 
 In this recess Miss Shore generally sat when alone 
 — the view pleased her; — with a book or work in 
 her hands, she could amuse herself with her own 
 thoughts, or those of other people. This afternoon, 
 awaiting an expected visit from Emilie Desprez, she 
 was sufficiently amused with her own thoughts to 
 require no book or other occupation for the mind. 
 " Many interpretations might be put upon such 
 an action," she was thinking; "some would think 
 me kind, and others unwise, but tlie simple truth is 
 that I am very much in want of amusement, and
 
 92 INGELHEIM. 
 
 unfortunately nothing amuses nie except emotional 
 pleasures/' 
 
 She rose, and putting aside her work, left the 
 recess, which made almost a second room within the 
 first, and began pacing up and down the hirger one 
 beyond. 
 
 It was a strange apartment for a woman's, and a 
 woman's especially with whom no other taste had 
 come in contact. The walls were painted a dull 
 dark red from the tall old-fashioned oak wainscoting 
 to the ceiling. Two or three engravings stood out 
 against the sombre background ; but they were not 
 nearly as noticeable as the many and various wea- 
 pons, the crossed swords above the pictures, the 
 slender spears which held back the curtains, the 
 daggers and rapiers above the high old-fashioned 
 mantelshelf. 
 
 The rapiers were her brother's. Jerome Shore 
 was reputed to be possessed of great skill in their 
 use, and there was a rumour current that Miss 
 Shore herself was no mean proficient in the art. 
 
 Her walk to and fro was interrupted by a knock, 
 and at her " Come in," her brother entered. 
 
 " Jerome ! " There was real satisfaction in look 
 and voice as she turned and saw him — " you ? " 
 
 "Yes, I. It is an unexpected reprieve, but I have 
 just learned that I shall be here for another fort- 
 night." 
 
 "Ah, why does not the War Office make up its 
 mind ? " she said, with a sigh of comic exaggeration.
 
 INGELHEIM. 93 
 
 " Had I only known you would have been here, I 
 should have been spared seekmg for amusement, 
 and should possibly have left ill alone." 
 
 " Possibly," he assented. 
 
 Sometimes when he said a little semi-sharp thing, 
 there was a slidit accentuation of the likeness to his 
 sister ; but the malice in his words left no suggestion 
 that there might be more than a passing w'ish to 
 amuse, the tenderness of the grey eyes were at 
 variance with the momentary sharpness. When 
 Virginia was sharp, it was only then one saw how- 
 cold her eyes could become. 
 
 " And what mischief are you hatching here that 
 War Offices might have prevented?" was his next 
 question. " May I escape first ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not," but she did not explain fur- 
 tlier. Her eyes wandered round the room, from the 
 dull walls, where the glow from the open fireplace 
 was reflected from the various weapons to the fire 
 itself, and then, as if continuing her speech, " And 
 Prince Lescynski, does he remain also ? " 
 
 There was a Q-esture of assent, and then imme- 
 diately after, " I'll tell you though, Virginia," and he 
 leaned towards her, lowering his voice, " it would be 
 rather a good thing, I fancy, if he went — and stayed," 
 after a pause. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 Virginia rose and took down a fan from the 
 shelf, and held it between her and the flame whilst 
 speaking.
 
 94 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " You have not guessed ? AVell, observations in 
 Courts are dangerous always and indiscreet gen- 
 erally ; but he is my friend, and you are trust- 
 worthy — he is too good to be made a fool of by 
 a coquette." 
 
 " And you think," A^irginia's eyes were quite 
 steady now, though there was a faint but distinct 
 line of colour across her cheeks — "and you think 
 that princesses like slaves just as well as other 
 women ? " 
 
 " I don't believe there's a woman living," cried 
 the man impetuously, " who would spare a man 
 making a fool of himself, if she knew his whole 
 future here and hereafter depended on it ! " 
 
 " I don't think there is," calmly assented his 
 sister, " so," with a little laugh, " there is no use 
 growing excited over self-evident propositions. Did 
 you expect to be contradicted ? " As he did not 
 reply, " My dear Jerome, if you expect politeness 
 and sentimentalities, you know there is no use com- 
 ing to me. But tell me more," after a pause, " does 
 he talk ? what does he say ? " 
 
 " If he talked he would be cured, or on the way 
 to it. On the contrary, he is drifting into despair 
 day by day." 
 
 " Well, drowning is an easy death, so they say." 
 
 Virginia had risen again with unusual restless- 
 ness, and was fingering the short dagger above the 
 fireplace. 
 
 " That's a delusion. It may be so to weak people ;
 
 INGELHEIM. 95 
 
 strong people would struggle, and it would be very 
 painful." 
 
 " You have discovered something very clever and 
 true in that, Jerome ; let it be a lesson to you to 
 learn when not to struggle." 
 
 " May I smoke, in the meantime ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Does not this room look like an in- 
 vitation to do so ? Presently Antoine Liitz is coming 
 to play to me ; you remember him, Desprez's failure ? 
 AVhen he comes, we will make him play, and you 
 shall practise the sword-dance. It is a long time 
 since I have seen it." 
 
 An hour later there was a low hesitating knock 
 at the outer door, before which hung a heavy 
 curtain, a knock nnheard by those within ; then the 
 door was softly unfastened, the curtain lifted, and 
 unseen for the moment, Emilie Desprez was granted 
 a vision of Virginia Shore, with flushed cheeks and 
 eyes shining with excitement, her soft skirts over her 
 arm, performing w^onderful graceful evolutions in 
 the centre of the room, an unsheathed sword at her 
 feet, whilst Jerome Shore applauded from where he 
 stood against the wall watching', and Antoine's violin 
 played the graceful accompaniment. In one moment 
 all the rest was a mere picture, and he, this worn 
 shabby man, with his violin creating these magic 
 strains, was the only reality, then she had been 
 recognised, and A'irginia paused, brushing back with 
 one hand her loosened hair, and speaking with little 
 pants between her words.
 
 9G INGELHEIM. 
 
 " Miss Desprez, I have not gone mad, as you 
 might suppose; but he challenged me to it, per- 
 haps," smiling, "because he was lazy. He is my 
 brother. Captain Shore. You do not know him ? 
 This other friend you do ; he is going to accompany 
 me on the violin, as he has a spare afternoon." 
 
 Emilie had recovered her presence of mind, though 
 the colour had not returned to her cheeks ; but she 
 was well aware that Miss Shore's eyes were upon 
 her, and they were eyes that always saw what they 
 wished to see. 
 
 " Why had she done this ? " She knew enough to 
 have a meaning in such an action ! 
 
 Such was the first passionate thought after she 
 had had a little time in which to recover, but for 
 any reason, at any price, this was a good and happy 
 hour to have wrested from fate. 
 
 Captain Shore did not go, he lingered, now leaning 
 against the chimneypiece with a cigarette, now talk- 
 ing in undertones to his sister, who had returned to 
 her low seat by the fire, now listening to the magic 
 of Antoine's violin. 
 
 " I am not in the humour to practise, after all," 
 Miss Shore said; "the rain, or the sword-dance, 
 or my brother's unexpected return, have entirely 
 changed my mind, and music is out of the question. 
 I feel far more inclined for " 
 
 " What ? " queried Jerome, as her eyes roved round 
 the room. " These ? " touching the foils over the 
 mantelshelf.
 
 INGELHEIM. 97 
 
 The colour flushed into her cheeks, her eyes 
 brightened ahuost imperceptibly. She smiled, and 
 took the weapon he held out ; but whilst she yet 
 hesitated with it in her hand, a servant entered to 
 say that Prince Lescynski was without, asking for 
 Captain Shore. 
 
 " I told him I should be here." 
 
 "Ask him in," she said, briefly, and then turned 
 lier head to welcome him, the foil still in her 
 hand. 
 
 In the rapidly fading twilight, in this room, with 
 its quaint surroundings and dull-red walls, Prince 
 Lescynski's dark classic head was more noticeable 
 than it had been the previous night. It was all a 
 suitable background, and gave something of stage 
 effect, with tlie lights and low music at the further 
 end, and Viriiinia still standing; in her white dress 
 in the centre of the room. 
 
 "Fencing?" the new-comer questioned, witli a 
 smile that lightened his eyes like a ray of light ; 
 " Jerome, you might have invited me before." 
 
 " No ; " it was Miss Shore who answered, " my 
 lessons don't take place in public." 
 
 " But when lesson-time is over ? " 
 
 " Then I am going to persuade M. Desprez to 
 write an opera, in which there is an important part 
 which I shall take, and so provide amusement for 
 my friends. Is it not an unselfish idea ? " 
 
 " It is," he assented. " I hope I shall be here to 
 applaud." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " Are you going to be away for long ? T hear 
 your departure is postponed for a fortnight." 
 
 She was now sitting down ; in the fireglow her eyes 
 were shining, her clear-cut features distinctly out- 
 lined against the crimson surroundings, a fan of 
 pheasant's feathers in her hand. Jerome had saun- 
 tered over to the window, they were virtually alone. 
 
 " No ; if present intentions hold good, we shall be 
 away for about a month." 
 
 " Whose present intentions ? " 
 
 She put the question so clearly, that the man 
 looked up with a momentary disturbed expression, 
 which might have seemed as if he feared lie had 
 betrayed himself, and he hesitated a moment before 
 replying. " I suppose," he said then, " that we are 
 at the mercy of the State." 
 
 " I suppose so," she assented. " Jerome calls it 
 the War Office, or the General, or somebody. Talk 
 about man being independent," she added, after a 
 moment, " he may be born so, but he does not long 
 remain satisfied with being so." 
 
 " It is only that he does not talk about it so 
 much," Captain Shore interpolated ; " it is his inlieri- 
 tance, so he does not keep on calling attention to it." 
 
 " Or to the bad use he makes of it." 
 
 " Even that observation, my dear, will not draw 
 me into a discussion." 
 
 " I thought Miss Shore was announcing that we 
 were not independent, even though we had the per- 
 mission to be so," said Prince Lescynski.
 
 INGELHEIM. 99 
 
 " That was my original remark," she replied, " or 
 something like it. And is it not true," turning to 
 her brother, " that men are never content till they 
 have sold their birthright, if, as Prince Lescynski 
 asserts, their freedom is their birthright ? " 
 
 Her eyes moved slowly from the one man to the 
 other. There was a momentary liesitation, as if an 
 answer were not easy. It was Jerome who spoke at 
 last, though a trifle nervously. " AYell, I suppose if 
 it is so — and I said I would not aroue — that men 
 have a certain amount of fightino; to go through, and 
 afterwards they are glad of peace." 
 
 " Yes," she assented, coldly, " at any price." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, ]\Iiss Shore." Prince 
 Lescynski rose as he spoke. " ^lany men struggle 
 over the Alps to fail at Capua.' 
 
 " AVhicli means, T suppose, that war suits you 
 better than peace ? " 
 
 " I am not going to argue," Captain Shore inter- 
 posed, " as I have already w\arned you, but let me 
 observe that the well-merited reward of fighting is 
 the following peace. We fight for what we want 
 and get it : women go without." 
 
 " Do they ? " Virginia queried ; " that is surely a 
 new theory." 
 
 " Such a new theory," added Prince Lescynski, 
 " that T don't think it has come into ordinary usage 
 yet." 
 
 AVith a swift movement Virginia turned and faced 
 the last speaker ; the transition in the tones of her
 
 100 INGELHEIM. 
 
 voice was almost as swift. " It is scarcely surpris- 
 iiiQ:'," slie said, " considering!; the circumstances of 
 their lives, that women should stretch out their 
 hands expecting them to be filled ; but that it should 
 be so common with men," shrugging her shoulders 
 slightly, " is always a revelation, they ought to know 
 better." 
 
 Assuredly the man's voice was calmer than the 
 woman's, though there was a quick flash in the eyes, 
 that betrayed a momentary excitement. " Their 
 education lacks something, I suppose. What is 
 it?" 
 
 He made a half-step nearer. There was a reflec- 
 tion of earnestness in his eyes, as if he hoped her 
 answer might be of use or comfort. 
 
 " What is it ? " she repeated, with a slight mock- 
 ing intonation ; " superficiality ? Do cultivate it. 
 It is the secret of slipping through life with tlie 
 greatest ease. It is born with most women, but even 
 men," with a little laugh, " can acquire it with time 
 and patience." 
 
 He looked at her for a moment in silence, whilst 
 the little smile died away, and tlie eyes gradually 
 grew colder, as they had a way of doing when her 
 face was in repose, a coldness accentuated by the 
 slight mocking curve of the lip. 
 
 " You have heard, I daresay, the definition of a 
 tragedy — a theory killed by a fact. Well, it seems 
 to me," with a sudden lowering and embittering of 
 his voice, " that each woman accomplishes her share
 
 INGELHEIM. 101 
 
 of that tragedy by striving to kill any idealism that 
 may remain about her in a man's heart." 
 
 There was a pause after his words, which ended as 
 abruptly as the swift unaccustomed passion that had 
 given them birth ; in the following silence, there was 
 heard one quick breath from tlie woman, and then 
 the man spoke again in his usual tones. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, slowly. " How in- 
 judicious it is to speak the truth! it is almost always 
 sure to be rude." Though his tones were mocking, 
 lie did not smile. 
 
 "It should be avoided," she assented; "at the best 
 of times, as likely as not, it is inconvenient." 
 
 " Virginia," here Jerome's voice broke in, " Miss 
 Desprez has been telling me about her father's new 
 star. Do you know, she is an English girl of sixteen, 
 and that when she came here, a few months ago, she 
 could speak neither French nor German ? You must 
 make her acquaintance." 
 
 " And how is it to be done, seeing ]\1. Desprez will 
 not trust her here ? " 
 
 Those other words were still ringing in her ears, 
 those other eyes looking into hers : it was so seldom 
 any one cared to answer her sharp words, she was 
 unaccustomed to it, and they were insulting, — the 
 quick blood Hew up into her cheeks, she got up, 
 as if the movement would calm the tumult of her 
 mind. 
 
 "Wa will swear she sliall not sing, or be seen," 
 went on Jerome Shore's kind voice, "if tluiL will
 
 102 INGELHEIM. 
 
 soften M. Desprez. Eh, Virginia ? She shall come 
 to tea here, and no one shall know." 
 
 Virginia smiled an assent. " Yes, Jerome, 
 arrange it, if you can, with Miss Desprez, and 
 you. Miss Desprez, with your father: I have 
 failed." 
 
 " It was not so much the tvords," she was saying 
 the while, in answer to that other voice ; " it was 
 the look, the tone, and, above all, the apology after- 
 wards." Then she was shaking hands with her 
 guests, arranging with Miss Desprez when she should 
 return. " For our practice must be postponed. My 
 brother's unexpected return made me idle to-day; 
 but you will come again, and if M. Desprez will 
 allow your English friend to come, you will bring 
 her ? And you, monsieur," when Emilie's consent 
 was gained, " you will come also ? " 
 
 The second step is ahvays so much easier than the 
 first. Emilie was aware of lifting her eyes with a 
 swift pleading glance, and then Antoine said, " Yes," 
 and they had passed out together. The tw^o men fol- 
 lowed, and Virginia Shore in her white dress w^as 
 left alone in the room, in which a couple of hours 
 before she had stood watching the rain, and sighing 
 for something to disturb the monotony of the day, 
 contemplating with pleasure the dramatic entertain- 
 ment she had prepared for her own amusement. A 
 dramatic entertainment that had been played out 
 before her scarcely observed, whilst she herself had 
 been called upon so unexpectedly to take a principal
 
 INGELHEIM. 103 
 
 part. A part she was distinctly conscious of not 
 having played well. 
 
 She seated herself by the window, clasping her 
 hands lightly on her lap, and ran over in her mind 
 the thoughts and words of the afternoon. 
 
 " I wish to be avenged on him for his unpleasant 
 remark, which probably was the truth, or at least he 
 thought it was. That is the worst of having such 
 an extremely critical mind. I see his side of the 
 question just as clearly as I see my own, far more 
 clearly," with a little smile, " than he sees it himself ; 
 but all the same, I am going to ignore that, and at a 
 convenient moment take my revenge." 
 
 On an easel in a far corner of the room was the 
 portrait of a man in uniform. She rose and stood 
 before it, and the likeness was so apparent that any 
 one would have guessed the relationship. 
 
 Colonel Shore had just been of the same fine- 
 featured delicate type as his daughter. 
 
 " I should have been a man," she said, crossing 
 her arms and looking into the eyes which looked 
 back with a faint smile ; " I should have been freer 
 and happier tlien. It matters very little if a man is 
 keen enough to be feared — all the better perhaps — 
 but for a woman, it is not well. She loses something, 
 I suppose, though I am sure I don't know what. 
 Xow, you I understand. I know exactly how you 
 felt — the very thought that made your eyes smile 
 like that. It was at something that you had seen 
 that you were not expected to see, probably some
 
 104 INGELHEIM. 
 
 well-concealed motive. I remember," she added, as 
 she turned away, " that his Excellency once told me 
 that if you ventured to step into people's hearts you 
 should put on velvet shoes — excellent advice, of 
 course — whereas my sole enjoyment is to let them 
 know I am there, which under those circumstances 
 they might never have found out. Come in." 
 
 A knock interrupted her. A servant with a note 
 commanding her presence after the opera in the 
 Princess's private rooms. 
 
 " Fate is propitious at any rate," she said, when 
 once more alone ; " it offers me my chance. We 
 shall all meet there, and on a somewhat restricted 
 stage. Some opportunity surely will occur of re- 
 trieving this afternoon's defeat." 
 
 Perhaps one reason why Virginia Shore so seldom 
 had the worst of an encounter, was from that critical 
 faculty of the mind which prevented her being blind 
 to her own mistakes. To have suffered defeat did 
 not mean with her to console herself in private with 
 imaginary conquests ; she was far too keen an analyst 
 to be deceived about herself, any more than about her 
 neighbours. Plight or wrong, it was she this afternoon 
 who had been silenced ; and to be silenced, she well 
 knew, meant to leave Prince Lescynski the victory. 
 
 " I wonder," her thoughts had taken a fresh turn, 
 " what this afternoon was to those others. I am 
 almost sorry tliat I was not alone, as I had intended 
 to be, with them, and studied their story. It would 
 have been interesting enough.
 
 INGELHEIM. 105 
 
 " I wonder what she feels. Good heavens ! " with 
 quick passion, " if she feels or hopes anything, why 
 doesn't she marry him at any cost, and know a fuller 
 life, if only for a time ? He would disappoint her, 
 of course. He is an enthusiast, an idealist, — and all 
 that," with a wave of lier hand, " has brought him 
 to starvation nearly, to threadbare coats quite — a 
 couple of years hence, he will be dead. What is the 
 use of it all ? Xothing. The only result of one's 
 observations is, that if it is all imagination, make use 
 of imagination when it is so vivid, and enjoy by its 
 light that which makes things seem real. 
 
 " What has she even to give up ? Very little. 
 Besides, M. Desprez would come round directly he 
 had had the gratification of sympathy from those 
 about him. He would forgive, because it would 
 interfere with his digestion not to do so. Yes ; if I 
 were Emilie Desprez, I should risk it — and regret it 
 ever after ! The usual rule would be carried out, that 
 woman expects and man disappoints. Is it the 
 ignorance of women or the unsatisfactoriness of men 
 that is to be blamed ? Of this I am sure, that I 
 have no wish to learn to shut my eyes as other 
 women do. No," with a backward glance at the 
 portrait, " I am grateful for your inheritance : it well 
 repays any sliglit inconvenience to its possessor. I 
 suppose," her thoughts ran on again, " that, like all 
 other gifts obtained from fate, it is acquired at the 
 expense of something else, thougli I don't know what 
 that something is. I do not love Jerome less, be-
 
 106 INGELHEIM. 
 
 cause I know that he is yielding where I am un- 
 moved, that he is impressionable and impulsive, and 
 likely to make mistakes through his very good 
 qualities. Other people love and see nothing of all 
 this. I can analyse his motives, actions, his very 
 thoughts ; it is an exercise of the mind, it has noth- 
 ing to do with the affections. Prince Lescynski again, 
 I understand." She paused and smiled, and then 
 started, as if amazed at where her thoughts had led 
 her. " Well, in his case there is more than that ; it 
 gives me a distinct power which will serve me well. 
 There is great gain in knowing the strength and 
 the weakness of those about us — especially when we 
 are anxious to strike effectively."
 
 107 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "But wrougs there are 'tis treason to forget." 
 
 Out in the chilly rapidly closing twilight Emilie 
 Desprez and Antoine Liitz were lingering under 
 the gloomy sky before separating. All her life duty 
 had assumed for this w^oman but one form — to 
 please and obey her father had been such a simple 
 creed, that even when it had clashed with her own 
 desires, it had still retained such power that to 
 sorrow and obey had seemed all there was left 
 to do. 
 
 Dolores's little sentence had momentarily stirred 
 her. 
 
 Were there other duties possible for her? Was 
 there any duty to this man who loved her ? So 
 easy to think there might be, when lier heart so 
 passionately consented. So difficult to remember 
 that life is made up of duties to those with whom 
 we come in contact, and that if they seem to clash, 
 it must be because we are drifting out of the clear 
 light; but to her such analysis was not possible.
 
 108 IXGELIIEIM. 
 
 This man she loved — he had suffered — how ill and 
 worn he looked 1 after this weary separation, the 
 tenderness and warmth of her heart surprised even 
 herself. She was a woman always more tender than 
 passionate, and to feel that he was ill and in need 
 of comfort, it was impossible for her to deny it. 
 
 His hand was clasped in hers, her tears were fall- 
 ing in the semi-darkness. " Emilie, do not grieve. 
 Tell me, what shall I do ? " 
 
 " This life is insupportable," she cried. " To see 
 you like this, to know you are ill and uncared for. 
 It is more than I can bear." 
 
 " Shall I go away ? " he questioned. " I only stay 
 on because it is something to know you are near. 
 But I can work anywhere Tell me, if I went 
 away, out of your life altogether, would it make it 
 easier ? " 
 
 He spoke earnestly, his thin hand caressed hers, 
 his eyes sought hers. She was silent a moment, 
 and then with unusual passion, — " No, Antoine, no ! 
 I cannot. Not to-night," she pleaded more calmly, 
 " do not ask me to decide to-night. Perhaps if I 
 had not seen you so lately ; but it seems as if being 
 with you this afternoon has taught me all over again 
 how dear you are to me." 
 
 " Perhaps," he hazarded, " it would be better if I 
 made an excuse, and did not return." 
 
 " No, no ! " in eager tones, " I cannot say that. It 
 is such happiness to see you even — to be with you. 
 It cannot be wrong." There was a faint half-ques-
 
 INGELHEIM. 109 
 
 tioning note in her voice ; he did not answer, l)ut 
 stooped and kissed her. 
 
 A moment later, she was hurrying on alone through 
 the narrow road towards her own home. 
 
 Dolores was watching for her when she arrived, 
 and had the door open to welcome her. 
 
 •' How wet you are ! " she said, drawing her in. 
 " M. Desprez is at home already," she went on, " and 
 has been asking for you." 
 
 " I will go and take off my wet cloak." 
 
 She spoke absently ; those few passionate words, 
 that parting kiss, had created a little atmosphere 
 which excluded or altered familiar objects. It made 
 her disinclined for the moment to meet her father, to 
 listen to Dolores. 
 
 " I liave done nothing wrong," she thought, as she 
 stood alone in her room. " It was by no prearrange- 
 ment of mine that he was there. And, after all, I am 
 a woman old enough to choose my own way in life." 
 
 But argue as she might, there was no resisting the 
 chill sensation of wrong-doing. The inward monitor 
 as often as not resents the unusual in our actions. 
 Was it the unusual revolt against constitutional 
 authority it was resenting now, or was there some- 
 thing else striving to make itself heard, a voice 
 which spoke up for courage to announce a decision 
 taken ? Poor Emilie ! there was confusion in her 
 own mind between the just revolt and the want of 
 courage which kept silent — scarcely was there any 
 distinction felt between the two.
 
 110 IXGELIIEIM. 
 
 She was not a cjood actress, and she was con- 
 scions when she came down-stairs of there being 
 a reflection of the inward perturbation in her face ; 
 but M. Desprez was not very observant, — he had 
 far too much to say and think of, to have time 
 to encourage the faculty which possibly therefore 
 lay dormant, and his questions soon gained all he 
 wanted to learn, without raisinq- an alarm that 
 anything was being held back. 
 
 At first there had been a dimly formed idea of 
 mentioning Antoine's name, but as the time passed 
 any casual allusion grew impossible ; so when, a 
 couple of hours later, M. Desprez retired to his 
 study, the name had not once been mentioned. 
 
 But the weight increased, and, with that instinct 
 of taking some half-measure that possesses women, 
 later she followed him and laid before him Miss 
 Shore's invitation for Dolores. "If Dolores went 
 with me," she thought, so far, and then turned to see 
 the effect of her words. 
 
 Somewhat to her surprise there was not an in- 
 stantaneous refusal. 
 
 " There is to be no singing ? " he questioned. " She 
 is but a child," as if weighing the case. " It is not 
 as if it were the Princess — and witli you. It would 
 be a little amusement for her, and if Miss Shore 
 took a fancy to her, it would be of service hereafter. 
 Yes, Emilie, I see no reason — no strong reason 
 against it. Do you ? " suddenly looking down into 
 her eyes.
 
 INGELHEBf. 1 1 1 
 
 " I — no, fatlier," she faltered. " I should like it," 
 she added, more decidedly, ''■ I do not like leaving 
 her alone." 
 
 " Then take her. Good night, child," kissing her, 
 " I must be off to the opera ; you are looking pale," 
 touching her cheek with his large well- formed hand, 
 a momentary shade of anxiety in his eyes. " Nothing 
 the matter, eh ?" And as she shook her head, "Well, 
 ask and have, you know, Emilie, even if it is the 
 south of France, to bring back the colour to your 
 cheeks." 
 
 There was colour in them now, — her eyes were 
 full of tears, her hands were trembling, so that 
 she had to clasp them in a vain effort to steady 
 them. 
 
 " Father," she began. It was a low cry of pain ; 
 of a sudden it seemed so easy to say everything 
 with which her heart was overburdened. What 
 was it that had kept her silent hitherto ? And 
 then how had it come about, the moment had gone 
 by, — had it ever come ? All was as usual, ^I. 
 Desprez, with his most joyous light - hearted air, 
 was proposing future journeyings as recompense for 
 present toil. 
 
 " For the immediate present I must work, Emilie, 
 and work hard, but afterwards we will see what 
 can be done. Money, honestly won, hardly earned 
 money, will do a great deal, and to give those I 
 love pleasure, I would sacrifice everything. Perhaps 
 Italy, who can tell ? "
 
 1 1 2 INGELHEIM. 
 
 As he spoke lie walked towards the door and 
 opened it. 
 
 " Good night," he said again, " do not sit up, you 
 are tired, I see ; go to bed." 
 
 Alone. " It is a monotonous life for her," he said. 
 " Directly I can get away, we must take a holiday. 
 She looks tired and nervous — that must be set right. 
 I could never work successfully, if I had illness or 
 anxiety at home. That must be guarded against, 
 and with a little care it generally can be." 
 
 And Emilie was walking wearily up-stairs, recog- 
 nising that the opportunity had come and passed. 
 
 " It is too late now to speak of him, or to allude 
 casually to having met him this afternoon. I wonder 
 what it was that prevented my speaking of it, when 
 I was so moved to do so ? " 
 
 Virginia Shore would have sought and analysed 
 until the sensations of that interview were laid bare 
 before her; would have recognised the large, well- 
 satisfied personality of the man, which overspread 
 the weaker nature of the woman, even as his cool 
 white hand had enveloped her slight nervous one ; 
 would have recognised how the trembling nerves 
 shrank away from the full overflowing physical con- 
 tent of the man, — a content that forbade a confidence 
 that would assuredly annoy and disturb his com- 
 posure, and which might be met by any of the thou- 
 sand and one replies which overwrought nerves fear ; 
 but to Emilie no such thoughts were possible. She 
 could only feel that he was her father, who had
 
 INGELHEIM. 1 1 3 
 
 always, or nearly always, been kind and good to her ; 
 tliat between tliem tliere was a barrier which she 
 was incapable of destroying, and that now she had 
 drifted so far away from loyalty and obedience, that 
 she was passively, if not actively, deceiving him. 
 
 That troublesome, shadowy anxiety followed M. 
 Desprez into his brougham, drove with him tli rough 
 the raw wintry night, descended with him at the 
 door of the Opera, and was only banished when he 
 stood in the well-known house, and knew himself to 
 be the genius of the place. It was here his triumphs 
 had been won, here, leaf by leaf, his laurel wreath 
 had been plucked ; within the narrow space of these 
 four walls he reigned a king. It was with the con- 
 sciousness of power he looked about him after en- 
 tering his box, for the moment almost sorry that 
 he had not brought Emilie : the gaiety and lights 
 and excitement might have reacted on her as on 
 liimself, but she did not haunt his memory long. 
 It was one of his own operettas that was to be per- 
 formed, and the gay strains of the Overture had 
 already commenced when he took his place, witli a 
 smile of honest enjoyment, as he leaned forward and 
 listened to the exquisite perfection of the orchestra 
 tliat he himself had trained. 
 
 The house was well filled; it was the first import- 
 ant night of the winter season, and there was some- 
 tliing intoxicating to his temperament in this fulfil- 
 ment of his early dreams. It was an intoxication of 
 the senses ; not of tliat subtle imaginative kind that 
 
 VOL. T. II
 
 114 INGELHEIM. 
 
 a more sensitive man might have experienced. There 
 was no haunting undertone that breathed of faihire 
 where the world cried Conquest, a failure in inter- 
 preting the intangible dreams which only he knew. 
 No, he had tliat rare temperament which grows rarer 
 as the world grows older, a union of the primitive 
 and the artistic ; it was as if part of his nature had 
 never been fully developed, and the artistic part had 
 in consequence become almost mechanical. The 
 quality of his music it would be for future genera- 
 tions to decide, — for the moment there was too much 
 encliantment and perfection of detail for calm judg- 
 ment to avail. 
 
 After the second act there were cries for the 
 author. 
 
 " Desprez, Desprez ! " those in the pit and gallery 
 stamped and called him by his name, and in answer 
 his well-known form appeared before the curtain for 
 a moment, by the side of the pretty little Marquise, 
 in powder and patches, who had sung the chief part. 
 
 It was an accustomed mark of appreciation, to 
 which, at the beginning of the season especially, the 
 audience was prone, but M. Desprez always appeared 
 to appreciate it. 
 
 Perhaps one reason of his popularity was, that he 
 was never bored, never even pretended to be ; but 
 showed the frank pleasure of a child in any expres- 
 sion of approbation. 
 
 He bowed smilingly around, first towards the box 
 where the Princess — radiant in gold-coloured satin,
 
 INGELHEIM. 115 
 
 with a glitter of diamonds — sat in the front. She 
 smiled, and lifting the great bouquet of lilies and 
 yellow roses in her lap, gave it to the man stand- 
 ing beside her, who threw it on to the stage. The 
 people shouted and applauded ; it was a pleasing 
 little interlude, and they appreciated this gracious- 
 ness of their Princess towards their popular idol. 
 M. Desprez picked up the flowers, and bowed his 
 acknowledgment, then placed them in the singer's 
 hands. 
 
 " Thank you for sparing me, Princess," his Excel- 
 lency observed ; " I foresaw the destination of that 
 bouquet from the first moment, and feared I might 
 be called upon to perform that feat." 
 
 The Princess turned her restless eyes towards 
 Prince Lescynski — perhaps unconsciously they 
 paused there, instead of passing him by and turn- 
 ing towards him who had spoken — paused long 
 enough for the passionate restlessness for a mo- 
 ment to grow calmer, long enough for his Excel- 
 lency to speak again. 
 
 " It spoilt my pleasure in the first act, foreseeing 
 how I should hit the man with the trombone." 
 
 " Women cannot throw," the Princess said, un- 
 easily, " but I thought all men could." 
 
 " They can throw," retorted his Excellency, witli 
 a smile, " but they cannot all aim. You are going 
 home ? " he questioned. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " but ]\Iiss Sliore is cjoincr 
 with me. She is witli Countess Ehrenheim : fetch
 
 116 INGELHEIM. 
 
 lier, please." As the door closed on the elder man, 
 " We are expecting you to supper," she said to 
 Prince Lescynski, whilst her eyes roved over the 
 house, " you remain on till the end ? " 
 
 " No, I am leavine^ now," 
 
 He was standing a little behind her, so close that 
 the gold waves of her rich hair were close to him, so 
 close that, as her eyes strayed around, almost uncon- 
 sciously he laid his hand on the back of her chair. 
 Perhaps there was some subtle consciousness of the 
 fact that came from the nervous force betrayed by 
 the closed hand, for of a sudden she turned and 
 looked straight up at him. 
 
 The expression in those passionate dark eyes 
 looking down into hers was not difficult to read, — 
 perhaps she knew or guessed the story in them, 
 perhaps she did not care to observe it. Her 
 lashes fell, she looked away, and at the same 
 moment the door reopened, and his Excellency 
 appeared with Miss Shore. When the air is 
 charged with electricity, there are some X3eople 
 who are always aw^are of the fact ; the two new- 
 comers had the air of persons who have un- 
 knowingly arrived at an unwelcome moment. Per- 
 haps it was the quick nervous glance the Princess 
 cast towards Miss Shore, or the hasty words which 
 she strove to say naturally, or it may have been 
 only the disturbance of the mental atmosphere, but 
 for the first moment there was an awkward silence. 
 
 It was on the other woman Virginia's eyes were
 
 INGELHEIM. 1 1 7 
 
 fixed. What she read there broiii'ht that sliuht 
 mocking smile to her lips, and expression into her 
 eyes, which made so many say of her that she would 
 make a better friend than enemy. 
 
 It was on Prince Lescynski's arm she followed the 
 other couple down the broad staircase ; her hand 
 barely touched it, and it was with an evident effort 
 that he at length made an observation about the 
 music. 
 
 " It was perfect — you enjoyed it ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think I did ; " and as he looked 
 round surprised at the unexpected rejoinder, " Oh, 
 I am not blaming M. Desprez ; I was thinking of 
 other things, and unless one can criticise one does 
 not really enjoy." 
 
 " I differ." His tone was calmly conventional 
 now. " Once criticism steps in, enjoyment is at an 
 end." 
 
 " Then, I don't think you have climbed very high 
 yet, allow me to observe, towards the secret of en- 
 joyment." 
 
 " I fed,'' he said with momentary energy, " that 
 suffices me." 
 
 " You may feel," her clear cold voice followed his, 
 "unpleasant things, so your plan seems hardly 
 wise, if it is enjoyment }'ou are striving to 
 obtain." 
 
 " And you never do ? " 
 
 " It is unnecessary to analyse them, whereas " 
 
 she shruLjoed her shoulders and was silent.
 
 1 1 8 INGELIIEIM. 
 
 "Whereas to feel," he retorted, hotly, ''is a rem- 
 nant of barbarism with which you have no 
 sympathy." 
 
 " It is an indiscretion, Prince, which is generally 
 followed by retribution." 
 
 She followed the Princess into the carriage : as 
 they drove away his Excellency turned to the 
 younger man, " You are returning to the theatre ? " 
 and as he shook his head, " shall I give you a lift — 
 you are going to supper?" 
 
 "Yes, but not direct. I half promised to walk 
 back with Shore, as he is also invited." 
 
 " I will drive you to the barracks, — a walk from 
 there is sufficient to redeem a half-promise." 
 
 Prince Lescynski smiled and entered the 
 brougham. At the moment he did not wish it. He 
 wanted to walk, to be alone, to recall, if it were 
 possible, the fleeting impressions of this last half- 
 hour; but his Excellency was not a man to run 
 the risk of annoying, or whose eyes it would be 
 well to turn towards wdiat one might wish to re- 
 main unseen. 
 
 It was the memory of those two women that was 
 with him as lie stepped into the carriage, those two 
 women who had both parted from him with a smile, 
 and whose looks, words, and tones were both equally 
 untranslatable. The one vaguely disturbed him 
 with a consciousness that she saw and smiled over 
 his trouble ; the other, it seemed to him, w^as seen 
 through such a cloud of passion that it left him
 
 INGELHEDr. 1 1 9 
 
 unable to judge what she meant or wislied. Wlien, 
 just now, she had turned her head towards him 
 and looked at him, her eyes dilating and softening 
 under the passion in his, his pulses had quickened, 
 he had been so conscious of his heart-beats, that 
 he had with difficulty steadied himself sufficiently 
 to speak to Miss Shore with reasonable calm. He 
 knew it now ; looking back, was able to realise the 
 risk he had run and escaped, " But nevertheless, 
 one day," he said to himself, "I know it, one day 
 I shall lose control over myself, and shall go mad, 
 and then " 
 
 He was silent in his corner, so w^as his Excellency 
 in his ; the rain, which was now falling fast, splashed 
 the puddles, the sky was dull and heavy, — it was all 
 a type of the brooding pain which had hung over his 
 life for so long. He started when the old man 
 addressed him. 
 
 " This is a bad life," he said, " for a young man. 
 It is treason to say so," with a light laugh, " but the 
 life is narrow : there is scarcely any future possible to 
 a man who needs something beyond a ball or a tea- 
 party." 
 
 " It is treason," assented Prince Lescynski. 
 
 " But having faced that," went on his Excellency, 
 '' is there no possible way out of it ? Xow, take your- 
 self and Shore, it is a very unsatisfactory life. I 
 wonder almost," he added, meditatively, " that he did 
 not join the English army." 
 
 " It is too late now. And fur myself," he added
 
 120 INGELIIEIM. 
 
 bitterly, a moment later, "any adoption is better 
 than homelessness, and a Pole has no country." 
 
 "Marriage," observed the elder, quietly, "is the 
 best way of creating a home — a country — if such be 
 needed." 
 
 " It might be a dear bargain, sir." 
 
 " Every one — men especially are very apt to for- 
 get that to gain one thing means always to lose 
 somethino' else." 
 
 " True," Prince Lescynski assented, " in which case 
 it is necessary to be very well aware of what we are 
 giving up." 
 
 "And of what we are Qainiuo-." 
 
 The words were spoken so quietly that they seemed 
 but of slight import ; but after he had spoken them, 
 the brilliant w^atching eyes in the darkened corner of 
 the carriage regarded the other intently. 
 
 It seemed as if he were going to add something ; 
 but whilst he hesitated the carriage stopped, and 
 a flash of light announced their arrival at the 
 barracks. 
 
 " You will not come on with me ? " and as Prince 
 Lescynski declined, "then, a tantot," he added, and 
 pulled the rug about himself in the carriage. " It is 
 so awkward," he said, with a smile in the solitude, 
 " I believe I am as fond of him as if he were my son ; 
 a certain way of providing trouble for my old age, 
 and, in addition, I can do no good. Ladies," with a 
 little inclination of his head, " must have amusement 
 provided for them, or they provide it for themselves.
 
 INGELHEIM. 1 2 1 
 
 and men are, of course, the amusement that nature 
 has thoughtfully provided." 
 
 At these informal supper-parties after the theatre, 
 etiquette was almost entirely laid aside. There 
 were only eight guests to-night, and at the round 
 table there were talk and lauGjhter enough to banish 
 the external evidences of the troubles that were 
 assailing all present. 
 
 The two ladies had returned together, and during 
 the short drive little had been said. The Princess 
 at first had spoken feverishly, as if to banish the 
 memory of the previous silence, and Virginia had 
 dutifully replied. In the darkness the mocking 
 light of the eyes, the curl of- the lip, were alike 
 hidden, and the voice sounded softer when these 
 were invisible. On starting there had been a silence, 
 and then the sound of her name, " Virginia," spoken 
 quickly and breathlessly, and a momentary glimpse 
 in the dimly lit carriage of flushed cheeks and 
 restless blue eyes, then a movement as if to take 
 her hand. 
 
 "What was coming?" The necessity for thought 
 brought the capacity, " What confidence was she 
 about to receive that she could wish to hear ? " 
 
 lunorim^ the movement, the word — 
 
 " Will his Excellency be there to-night ? " Virginia 
 questioned, turning her head slowly round. " Ah, of 
 course. It is as well," with a smile, " we have noth- 
 ing to hide when his eyes are on us."
 
 122 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " You think him so very keen-sighted ? " There 
 was a susj^icion of emotion in the tones still. 
 
 "The keenness of his vision I take to be only 
 equalled by the silence of his tongue. I am al- 
 ways wondering whose secrets he is discovering, 
 whilst he is listening to my comments on the 
 opera." 
 
 There was an uneasy half-assent, and then they 
 had reached the Palace. 
 
 And now in the room, with its soft shaded lamps, 
 and its many beauties of art-pictures and books 
 everywhere — a fernery opening out from it, where 
 the melancholy splash of a fountain sounded — they 
 were all gathered together whom these various dif- 
 ferences sundered. 
 
 Of all present, though each one probably wore 
 his coat over a troubled heart, it was only Prince 
 Lescynski who showed any reflection of it in his 
 face ; but then he was a Pole, one of that excitable, 
 passionate race whose history has been a fitting 
 cradle in which to foster the national characteristics 
 — the Irish of the Continent, but with far more than 
 Ireland's wrongs to avenge. 
 
 Perhaps he had unconsciously expected some ex- 
 planation, some words to follow that look that had 
 met his in the theatre. Men are still so ignorant 
 of women, that what may be merely a momentary 
 reflection from their own personality, will assume 
 to them the proportions of a well-considered action. 
 He had had these vague ideas all tlie way liitlier.
 
 INGELHEIM. 123 
 
 and now it was all just tlie same as it had been 
 thousands of times before. 
 
 The lights and flowers, the tall palms in the 
 corner, the portrait of the old man who had been 
 this beautiful woman's husband, the corresponding 
 portrait of the pretty serious - eyed boy, the soft 
 green of the fernery, and the small well-known party. 
 
 The Princess herself, talking in the nervous way 
 that had become habitual to her, her restless dis- 
 contented eyes turning from one to another. A 
 demure elderly lady who spoke little; Virginia 
 Shore who spoke a great deal, her brother, and 
 his Excellency. It was to this last he oftenest 
 looked : through all the tumult of his mind those 
 late speeches now and then found their way, with 
 a suggestion that there was a key to them, could 
 he but stop to find it. But only the vague instinct 
 remained, that the words he had listened to had been 
 kind. 
 
 He was seated between the Princess and Virginia, 
 and thou oil the disturbed state of his mind tended to 
 prevent his thoughts wandering out of one groove, 
 he was vaguely conscious that if the Princess was 
 indifferent, Virginia was inclined to warfare. If the 
 one had been different, the other could have been 
 easily borne, and yet — and yet there had been a time, 
 not so very long ago either, when Virginia's words 
 had held a distinct attraction for him, when there 
 had been but a very narrow step between where he 
 stood and the wide sea of love.
 
 124 INGELHEIM. 
 
 He had not taken that other step : as he hesitated, 
 he had become aware of another whose words and 
 looks drew him witli mightier power, and he had 
 turned away and followed, and now, in addition, he 
 had forgotten it had ever been otherwise. It was 
 buried under last year's snows — or rather it was the 
 snow of last year — and had melted so surely away 
 that nothing remained to tell that it had ever been. 
 It had merely prepared the ground for the new and 
 stronger passion that had taken its place. 
 
 But women do not forget so easily, or at least not 
 women like Virginia Shore. Perhaps the first faint 
 stirrings of some great unguessed-at good had been 
 the only intimation that the good had passed her by. 
 There was no fact she could translate into words, but 
 the result had given colour to her life. 
 
 !Now, however, in the meantime, light remarks 
 on the subjects of the hour were all that were 
 possible. 
 
 " It is a charming opera," she observed, " but M. 
 Desprez grows older — it is time we heard his new 
 one." 
 
 " That is a hard saying, Miss Shore ; it reflects 
 upon us all." 
 
 " We do not. Excellency, defy truth by showing 
 ourselves before the curtain," she retorted. 
 
 " True, a strong light is apt to take truth's part, 
 and impress our weaknesses on the beholder ; let us 
 be wise and avoid it." 
 
 '' Which, Excellency, the light or the beholder ? "
 
 INGELHEIM. 125 
 
 She looked straiglit at him as she asked the question, 
 a touch of amusement in her expression. 
 
 " It depends, I suppose, on which you fear most." 
 
 " / fear," she repeated ; " I fear neither." 
 
 " Neither the fact, nor the being found out ? " 
 
 " Xeither," she emphasised. 
 
 "Ah, but you are not a fair sample," he added. 
 " You pride yourself on being above all our little 
 weaknesses." 
 
 "And you," she retorted, ''on seeing tlirough 
 tliem." 
 
 " In the Palace of Truth," interposed Captain 
 Shore, with a suggestion of a smile, " was it necessary 
 for every one to make a note of his neighbour's short- 
 comings directly he observed them ? " 
 
 This question was addressed to his sister, who 
 smiled back. 
 
 " It must liave added fresh horror to the place, 
 if such were the case. It would not tend, would it, 
 Excellency, to social intercourse ? Supposing now," 
 with a little smile, which rested for a moment in 
 turn on all those present, "that we were all con- 
 strained to say aloud the uppermost thought, pos- 
 sibly we should not like it." 
 
 " You are a cynic," Jerome replied, " and possibly 
 judge of others by yourself. Out comes my upper- 
 most thought at once. Joy, unutterable gratitude, 
 that at this moment I am here, instead of where I 
 expected to be this evening, in the train on the way 
 to Neuheim."
 
 1 26 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " It is evident, Jerome, i/oio would not be embar- 
 rassed in the Palace of Truth, where most of us would 
 cry out for the rocks to cover us." 
 
 " Thank you. Captain Shore," the Princess smiled, 
 she had been very silent hitherto, " I am glad truth 
 is sometimes pleasant." 
 
 " And politic," murmured his Excellency, " and 
 that is not usual, is it ? So unusual that we have 
 passed over Miss Shore's striking metaphor ; a palace 
 where rocks are to be expected to fall upon us, is a 
 most uncomfortable idea. And I was going to say, 
 ' Try me.' I will not be outdone in the matter of 
 confession." 
 
 " No, no — too late," she answ^ered, " you have had 
 time to think. Let us question Prince Lescynski 
 instead." 
 
 The slightest possible red for a moment flushed 
 his dark cheek, as Miss Shore thus unexpectedly 
 addressed him, and his look so thoroughly betrayed 
 his unconsciousness of the conversation, that there 
 was perhaps a fair excuse for the girl's malicious 
 little smile, and the expectant silence with which 
 she emphasised his embarrassment. 
 
 But in a moment he had an ally, and those to 
 wliom his Excellency lent a helping hand had always 
 secured an ally of value. 
 
 " Did you never hear. Miss Shore, that a woman's 
 impressions should be taken before reflection, and a 
 man's after, — if the truth be really desired ? It is 
 your loss, therefore, not to give me a chance. Per-
 
 INGELHEIM. 127 
 
 haps thougli, after all, your metaphor was not so 
 inaccurate." 
 
 For a moment she looked away from Prince 
 Lescynski, straight into his Excellency's eyes. 
 
 '^ You mean ? " 
 
 " Only that there are rocks to be feared — when 
 they fall." 
 
 " In palaces, Excellency," she corrected, swiftly. 
 " Quote me all in all, or quote me not at all." 
 
 At that moment the Princess rose wdth some 
 sudden word to Prince Lescynski, and turned with 
 him towards the conservatory, which opened out of 
 the room, and the two speakers rising also, still 
 faced each other as if both expected a last word. 
 But it did not come. Perhaps they each recognised 
 a case in which victory would rest with the last 
 speaker, which now hovered between them. 
 
 There were shaded lamps in the conservatory, 
 the air was heavy with rich scents, the bright col- 
 ouring was dull and indistinct in the half light. 
 Sleepy little birds stirred uneasily amid the green- 
 ery, as the two passers disturbed their slumbers — 
 twittered a little, drew nearer to each other, rutiied 
 their soft plumage, and then settled clown once more 
 to sleep. 
 
 " My roses are fading," the woman said, and, 
 stretching out her hand, drew towards her a lovely 
 creamy blossom above her head. 
 
 Prince Lescynski bent it nearer, and then broke 
 it off; she took it from his hand, and replaced with
 
 128 INGELHEIM. 
 
 its freshness the fading crimson buds in the lace of 
 her dress, saying nothing, apparently unheeding of 
 the fact that tlie fading buds remained in the giver's 
 liand. 
 
 " You wear a strange ring, Prince." 
 
 In gathering the flowers his hand for a moment 
 was lighted by a lamp overhead, a slender, brown, 
 nervous hand. In the shaded light he reddened a 
 little, hesitated as if in doubt, then drew it off and 
 held it towards her. 
 
 " It is a reminder, if such be needed, of a tragedy." 
 
 She took it and held it towards the light, a nar- 
 row iron band. 
 
 " A tragedy ? " she repeated inquiringly, and as 
 she spoke she slipped it on to her white hand, wliere 
 the diamonds and sapphires sparkled. 
 
 " Such a ring is worn by the men of our family," 
 he said, " to keep fresh in their memories how much 
 has to be avenged, if the day should ever come." 
 
 " And it means ? " she questioned, a shadow of his 
 gravity on her face. 
 
 " It means that it w\as forged from the iron fetters 
 of those whose fate it was to be exiled to Siberia." 
 
 She shuddered ever so slightly, perhaps at the 
 look in the dark face, which had grown stern and 
 hard, perhaps at the realisation of what the words 
 meant. 
 
 " We are not a lucky race," he added, with a little 
 bitter laugh ; " we have always known poverty and 
 exile. Death and disaster are alwavs on the look-
 
 INGELHEIM. 129 
 
 out for us ; we are neither lucky at cards — nor in 
 love." 
 
 His eyes looked straight into hers — blue as sea- 
 waves — as he spoke ; hers shifted a little uneasily 
 from his face to the roses above her head, to the 
 flower at her breast, to the ring upon her hand ; 
 with a quick movement she drew it off. 
 
 " It is as well," she said, speaking quickly, as if 
 to hide a little nervousness, " to try and forget 
 tragedies, not to remember them. Do the ladies of 
 your family wear it as well ? " holding it out as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " No," he almost smiled ; " a reminder must be 
 made ornamental, for a w^oman to be willing to 
 carry it about with her. Tliey would long ago have 
 had the iron gilt.' 
 
 •'You are bitter, Prince. It would be better, I 
 think," as he took the ring, " to put this away and 
 forget its story." 
 
 " Not after to-night," he answered, low. " It has 
 now another story." His dark eyes glanced signifi- 
 cantly from her hand to the iron circlet, " The one 
 memory may serve to soften the other." 
 
 She made no reply. There were voices and foot- 
 steps audible ; when she spoke, it was not to her 
 companion. 
 
 "Excellency, you are a lover of roses, are you 
 not ? Let me show you mine ; they are a triumph." 
 
 '•'A triumph of what may be accomplished in cap- 
 tivity," he amended, as he moved to her side ; " what 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 INGELHEIM. 
 
 might not have been expected had they been left 
 free ? " 
 
 She looked as if she scarcely understood — perhaps 
 was only inattentive. A slight stereotyped smile on 
 her lips, her eyes wandering from the speaker to 
 where the other two stood, a few paces apart, con- 
 versing. A moment thus, and then without an 
 answer she moved away and joined them. 
 
 " The mystic ring," Virginia said, as they drew 
 near, " is not in its place. Here is a chance of learn- 
 ing its history." She smiled as she glanced towards 
 it, and Prince Lescynski became aware, if he had 
 previously forgotten, that he had not replaced it, but 
 still held it in his hand. 
 
 "There is little mystery," he replied, recovering 
 himself ; but his listener's quick eyes noted, as she 
 bent nearer to examine it, that he did not ofter it to 
 her, but slipped it back first into its accustomed 
 place. Perhaps he feared that the iron band would 
 show its sombre significant reminder on the white 
 ringless hand, as it had but now done amid the 
 diamonds and sapphires of the Princess. 
 
 Anyway, no such chance was given. He held out 
 his hand, and Virginia leaned over it to note it. 
 
 "Truly, now, is it not a charm against the evil 
 eye ? " she questioned ; " there is a date, I cannot 
 read it." 
 
 " 18th March 1863." 
 
 He spoke quietly, but his eyes were excited ; the 
 thrill of his excitement was felt by all three listeners.
 
 INGELHEIM. 131 
 
 " It is a date that no one knows, why should 
 they ? " His eyes turned from the one woman to 
 the other; it was to the sea-blue eyes and golden 
 hair his words were given. " It was nothing ; scarcely 
 an echo of such an event would be heard in European 
 history. A few miserable unhappy Poles suspected, 
 or found guilty — it was all the same — hurried away 
 in the silence of the night to undertake that journey 
 from which, like death itself, there is no return. 
 Husband and wife, brother and sister, mother and 
 son, heart-rending partings ; imagine the bitterness 
 of death without its following peace, and you have 
 the story of that night. Amongst the miserable 
 little band of prisoners, one — little more than a boy 
 in years — was taken, leaving a few months' bride to 
 bear the future as best she could. 
 
 " She did what was possible." His voice was no 
 longer calm ; his eyes, darkened with passion, gave 
 a glimpse of the storm his words had awakened. 
 " Some little time later, with an infant in her arms, 
 she made her way to St Petersburg, and eventually 
 into the presence of the Emperor. 
 
 "There, her pleadings availed; compassion was 
 felt for the younger son of a misguided house, who 
 had followed in tlie steps of tliose older than 
 himself. 
 
 " Only twenty ; he should have a chance, partly 
 for the sake of the beautiful seventeen -years -old 
 wife, and so the pardon was granted. 
 
 " Penniless, friendless, and with all those lie loved,
 
 132 INGELHEIM. 
 
 and whose teaching possibly had led him astray, out 
 there — mercy might safely be indulged in. 
 
 "Little did the wife reck of all this when the 
 precious paper was hers. 
 
 " Hope and Love were once more w^ithin sight, 
 only, you see, unfortunately, it was all of no use, 
 because when the Imperial will was made known, it 
 availed little. Prince Adrian Lescynski was dead." 
 
 With the sudden silence there was a stir through 
 the little audience, as if, the spell broken, they were 
 glad to escape from its influence. 
 
 She to whom he had told his story never moved 
 till he had finished ; on her expressive face there was 
 almost as much emotion as on that of the speaker, 
 and then : " It is too terrible," she said, " and your 
 mother, Prince ? " 
 
 " She died," he answered ; and then added, " some 
 people are so fortunate as to die when they have 
 nothing particularly to live for." 
 
 The words were too bitter, too significant to be 
 ignored, and yet they were evidently difficult to 
 comment on ; for it was his Excellency who said, 
 " The difficulty is, you see, to decide when that when 
 has arrived. In such a kaleidoscope as life, there is 
 always a chance of a fresh combination." 
 
 •' True," the Princess said, and turned towards the 
 lighted room, as if fearing to betray the emotion that 
 evidently distressed her. 
 
 " True," Virginia said also ; " and yet, Prince, it is 
 a remarkable fact, is it not, liow many wrong com-
 
 INGELHEIM. 133 
 
 binations are possible before one gets the right 
 one ? " 
 
 " The right one, Miss Shore, is impossible." 
 
 " That sounds like a sigh," she answered, " and 
 you are not a man I should have expected to sigh 
 over anything. But after all," she added, slowly, " a 
 sigh may be a sort of emotional pleasure." 
 
 He looked at her as if barely comprehending, and 
 yet realising she meant something. " I don't think 
 we see things, or ever could, perhaps, from the same 
 point of view." 
 
 " It is generally conceded," she smiled, " that men 
 and women view^ things differently. Et apHs" 
 
 She was standing in that easy upright way that 
 was habitual to her, the large fan she held sent 
 around soft waves of air ; she looked towards him 
 for the next word, but it did not come. 
 
 He was looking through the open door into the 
 well-lit room beyond, where tlie Princess stood talk- 
 ing to Captain Shore. 
 
 She did not move, but into her eyes, following the 
 direction of his, came that hard look that character- 
 ised them on occasions ; but the regular waves of 
 the fan went on the same — stirring the air, mixing 
 with the soft tinkle of the fountain, the little un- 
 certain movements of the sleepy birds. 
 
 " I suppose," lowering her voice, which yet was 
 clear and distinct as ever, " that remarriage is an 
 open secret." 
 
 " What do yuu mean i "
 
 134 INGELHEIM. 
 
 Ill the swift transition, the sudden turn of his 
 head, the inflection of his voice, there was no mis- 
 taking what he felt. The knife had gone straight 
 home. His very lips w^ere white as he turned 
 towards her. 
 
 " It is not true," he said, passionately. " What 
 makes you say such things?" 
 
 " One may whisper gossip about princesses," she 
 said, quietly, " but it is safer not to say it very 
 loud." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he began, " but you startled 
 me. I have never even heard a word of such a 
 rumour. It cannot be true." 
 
 " Why not ? " she queried, coldly. " Young, beau- 
 tiful — what is there more likely ? My only 
 wonder," with a slight shrug of her shoulders, " is 
 that liis Excellency has managed to prevent it for 
 so long." 
 
 "And he has failed?" 
 
 '•' My dear Prince, go to some one else for scandal, 
 only gossip is to be had from me. I never repeat 
 what I do not find every one else knows, — that is the 
 reason that I succeed so well in keeping clear of 
 disaster." She smiled again, and turned towards the 
 room ; he followed, though he was barely conscious 
 of the fact. 
 
 Perhaps the pain and passion that possessed him 
 had been the gradual growth of the evening, but 
 this last word had let loose the demons that were 
 fighting for the mastery.
 
 INGELHEIM. 135 
 
 " It was true, true ! " Those were the words suri;- 
 ing in his brain — 
 
 " I never repeat except that whicli every one 
 knows." 
 
 Doubtless to every one except himself the rumour 
 liad come, and he alone, blind and self-absorbed, 
 had remained ignorant. But he would know now. 
 Let the space between them be what it might, by 
 the power of his own suffering, he would force the 
 acknowledgment from her, would let her know. 
 And then he was back in the brilliant room, the 
 torrent of thought checked by the strong force of 
 custom. Etiquette obliging, almost unconsciously, 
 its tribute, and almost unconsciously granting it. 
 
 The Princess was saying " Good night" ; she looked 
 tired, and her eyes passed from one to the other, 
 as if she half expected to see or guess something 
 unusual from the expression of those around. 
 
 His Excellency even looked a little disturbed 
 and unlike his usual self, Virginia Shore alone 
 bore no trace of the storm that was in the air. 
 She stood by the side of the Princess whilst the 
 gentlemen bowed their " Good nights," and to Prince 
 Lescynski's excited fancy, it seemed there was a 
 mocking light in her eyes, a mocking smile on her 
 lips, as if she read the storm raging under the en- 
 forced calm, and was amused at it. 
 
 " I will join you in a moment," Captain Shore 
 said ; " I am only going to fetch a book from my 
 sister's room, and then I will walk home with you."
 
 136 INGELHEIM. 
 
 He disappeared, and the other two men descended 
 the wide shallow staircase together. 
 
 " They are very unlike," the elder man said, with 
 a glance in the direction whence Jerome Shore had 
 disappeared. " The brother and sister, I mean. He 
 is so natural in some ways — so boyish ; and she " 
 — he laughed a little — "is a consummate actress." 
 
 " No, Excellency, she is worse," Prince Lescynski 
 answered quickly ; " she is a cold amused spectator." 
 
 His Excellency looked into the speaker's face, 
 something of sympathy in his keen eyes, though 
 there was none in his voice. "Women have a 
 knack of uniting the two : the one affords them 
 excitement and the other amusement. Drive back 
 with me," he added, "it is raining in torrents." 
 
 " No, thanks. Excellency ; I don't feel in a humour 
 to escape the rain." But after the elder man had 
 got into his brougham, and was on the point of 
 driving away, he approached hastily, bareheaded 
 in the pouring rain. 
 
 " Tell me," he began, and then almost immediately 
 checked himself. " I beg your pardon ; no, no, 
 nothing," as the footman hesitated, and his Ex- 
 cellency leaned towards him, and without another 
 word he turned back, standing a moment in the 
 blaze of light at the door, in which the rain-drops 
 shone clear upon his dark head.
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTEE VIT. 
 
 " Yesterday, this day's maduess did preimre." 
 
 Left to herself at lencfth, the Princess Gjave a si'^h 
 of relief. It was distinct relief to escape those 
 keen eyes, which she felt read lier so w^ell, yet which 
 never gave a sign of what they read ; and yet, deep 
 down in her heart, she did not fear them as she did 
 those of the brown-haired girl, with whom she had 
 been as intimate as with a sister ever since she had 
 left her home. His Excellency's eyes were sharp — 
 nothing escaped them ; but his judgment was that 
 of one with whom mercy might hold tlie scales, even 
 lay a finger's-weight in the balance ; but with the 
 woman it would not be so, or so the Princess 
 imagined, and trembled under the thought. The 
 rumour, no lighter than a summer breeze, that 
 floated about and whispered this friendship was 
 rooted in fear, not love, was not foundationless. 
 
 But Princess Elvira was no analyst ; she only felt 
 that life was hard and difiicult, that all about her 
 were invisible chains which fretted and galled, and
 
 138 INGELHEIM. 
 
 tlidt his Excellency was always at liaiicl, fur fear she 
 should do something unwise, though his quiet de- 
 taining hand had not half tlie power of the dread of 
 Virginia's mocking smiles. 
 
 She reddened now at the thought of them — could 
 see them — imagine the words that would accompany 
 them, should she ever Ever do what ! 
 
 She started, lifting her head with a proud im- 
 patient movement, and turning away from the light, 
 walked hurriedly into the conservatory. 
 
 Perhaps of all the troubled hearts that beat that 
 night, looking vainly round for comfort, there was 
 none stood more in need of it than hers. 
 
 A woman, proud, passionate, and ambitious — a 
 life in which discipline was unknown, and ill- 
 regulated inclinations the only counsellors — what 
 would be her case in the hour of need ! 
 
 She was standing now where she had stood 
 earlier in the evening, by the flowering creamy 
 roses. Their scent was heavy round her; it was 
 so still that it almost seemed as if she were listening 
 yet to the voice that had spoken here, saw once 
 again the hand lifted, on which was visible the 
 dark rincj. A moment thus with bent head, Vv^hilst 
 fancy held its own, then a slight stir, and she 
 looked up to see standing close beside her, in the 
 half darkness, the man of wdiom she had been 
 thinking. 
 
 For a moment so disturbed was her mind between 
 fancy and reality, that she scarcely understood all
 
 IXGELHEIM. 139 
 
 that his presence signified, then he was speaking, 
 moving a step nearer as lie did so. 
 
 " Yes, it is I — I have gone mad — have waited till 
 you were alone, and have come back to speak to 
 you." 
 
 For a moment it seemed as if his words were 
 literally true, and she shrank a step back, and was 
 conscious of physical fear. But only for a moment, 
 then she recognised it was not a madness of which 
 she need be afraid, and she drew herself up, lifting 
 her head with a haughty little gesture, and, ignoring 
 him altogether, w^ould have passed him by. 
 
 " After all, conduct such as this — an insult such 
 as this" — so the words framed themselves in her 
 brain — " would speedily be atoned for." 
 
 She was not alone, though for the first minute it 
 had seemed as if the world only held her and this 
 man. 
 
 But when she had made that step, he did not 
 move aside. 
 
 " Listen ! " he cried, passionately ; " do you think 
 I have risked all T have done to be put aside with a 
 look ? You think I do not know what it means, 
 but I do ! I tell you I am mad — so I am ; but not 
 mad enough not to foresee to-morrow, only — I don't 
 care ! There is but one thing in the world for 
 me " 
 
 She did not attempt to move again. She stood 
 quite still — a statue of a woman, if it had not been 
 for some lurking danger in her eyes, which waited,
 
 140 INGELHEIM. 
 
 waited; and it would be hard to foretell what it 
 would do when aroused, what especial form it 
 would take. But it behoved a man to be wary in 
 awaking it. 
 
 " I love you," he said, his voice low and vibrating. 
 " You shall hear me, though all the rights and wrongs 
 of the world stood between us. You know it, you 
 have no doubts ; but how I love you, this night's 
 work shows you. Everything, as the world counts, 
 lies between us : it rests with you to do as you will ; 
 but if death had stood by your side, awaiting me 
 here, I should not have hesitated — you should have 
 heard me say it." 
 
 He paused, stooped his head a little, his dark 
 passionate eyes looking into hers. "Now, I have 
 thrown my all, what have you to say ? " 
 
 Quick into her face came that flash that had been 
 lying in wait ; her eyes were like steel. 
 
 " Nothing ! " 
 
 Her voice was low, but it had lost its usual 
 lingering tones, and was full and swift. 
 
 " Insulted under my own roof, within reach almost 
 of my sleeping child, do you expect me to exchange 
 words with the man who has insulted me ? " 
 
 At the words he turned whiter. " It is for you to 
 say what you will ; you know best if your own heart 
 believes your words. You are a free woman. It is 
 not God, but man, who stands between us. No, do 
 not fear," as she shrank a step away from him ; 
 "my luordsj' with a slight emphasis, "are all you
 
 INGELHEIM. 141 
 
 have to fear. Unsay what you have said," he 
 added a moment later, as she gave no sign ; " see, on 
 my knees," throwing himself down before her — " on 
 my knees, I pray of you take them back." 
 
 " It is not fcav I feel," she said, slowly and de- 
 fiantly. That was her only answer. 
 
 The way was clear now ; he did not even attempt 
 to detain her, or prevent her passing him. With un- 
 hurried step she moved, though under her eyes there 
 was a line of unusual colour, and the pulsations of 
 her heart were almost pain, until she was within the 
 room, when she paused, and as she did so, she was 
 aware that he had followed her, that he was once 
 more standing between her and possible help. He 
 looked haggard and miserable in the shaded lights 
 of the room ; she did not speak, but waited, almost 
 as if expectantly. 
 
 " I know my fate," he said, and as he spoke he 
 rested his slender hand with its iron badge on the 
 table by him. " You have taken no pains to prevent 
 my foreseeing it, why should you ! We are an un- 
 lucky race, as I said once before to-night, — lucky in 
 nothing," with a slight emphasis, " but we never 
 keep back anything. For those we love," — there was 
 a momentary hesitation, — " and for those we hate, we 
 grudge nothing — we have no reserve. There was 
 not, perhaps, much to risk ; but it was all risked to- 
 night, and lost." 
 
 To leave the room she would have had to pass 
 him, perhaps she feared some attempt to detain her ;
 
 142 INGELHEIM. 
 
 she never moved, but wliilst he was speaking, she 
 lifted her head and spoke : it was as if the wild 
 spirit that had prompted his words had passed from 
 him into her. 
 
 " Lost, lost everything, indeed," she cried. " You 
 shall learn that 1 am not alone, that I have friends 
 to protect me, and," her voice trembling, so that the 
 words scarcely reached him, " to avenge me." 
 
 Silence, and then he took a few hurried steps 
 nearer; the calm he had regained was gone, his 
 voice once more was stirred with passion. 
 
 "You are not as hard and cruel as you try to 
 appear," he cried ; " your eyes are truer than your 
 lips, but that avails little. Your words and your 
 silence have alike set worlds between us. To- 
 morrow's banishment means only exile from your 
 presence : I risked that, it was part of my all, and I 
 take nothing away." Another silence, and then he 
 slowly- added, " Not even my sword." 
 
 There was some sudden movement, some swift 
 change of tone, and then the gleam of steel, a sharp 
 noise, and a broken weapon lying at her feet. 
 
 It was almost as if the blue gleam of the finely 
 tempered steel was reflected in her eyes, as with head 
 still proudly lifted, arms folded, she met those dark 
 vivid ones opposite : then his voice again — 
 
 " Not even my sword ! it was vowed to your 
 service, and if you do not need it, or will not accept 
 it, it shall never serve another." 
 
 She was alone now : the voice had ceased, the
 
 INGELHEIM. 143 
 
 passionate eyes had disappeared ; she was alone, with 
 the broken sword lying on the soft carpet at her feet. 
 
 When the door had closed, she moved; no gently ani- 
 mated statue, but a living, breathing, angry woman. 
 
 " Insulted 1 " that was the one word that answered 
 all the rush of voices crying aloud. She who had 
 never known a master, but the wish or fancy of the 
 moment, to have stood, as she could remember now, 
 listening to the ravings of a madman. 
 
 Her eyes were no longer restless and dissatisfied, 
 they were vivid and blue as steel ; the colour came 
 and went in her delicate cheeks like a swift flame. 
 
 A moment later she drew pen and ink towards 
 her, and scarcely seeing the paper, hardly realising 
 what she wrote, penned a letter to his Excellency. 
 
 "Come as soon as possible to-morrow. 
 
 " I have been insulted most cruelly since you left, 
 by Prince Lescynski. He returned here after you 
 had gone, and for half an hour I have had to listen 
 to his ravings. He must not remain anotlier day. 
 Willingly, or unwillingly, he must go, so that I never 
 see him again. Settle it as you will, I cannot think 
 what is best." 
 
 When the servant came in answer to the bell, " I 
 wish his Excellency to have that note the first thing 
 in the morning," she said ; and when it had gone, 
 and she knew that there was no possibility of its 
 being recalled, there was for a moment an almost
 
 144 INGELHEIM. 
 
 faint shadowy wish that silence, eternal silence, 
 might have settled over this night ; silence and for- 
 getfulness, except in the memories of those two for 
 whom no forgetfulness would be possible. 
 
 The gentle suggestion stole over her, calming and 
 soothing the passion that had but now shaken her 
 soul, and then in a moment it was gone, banished 
 by a thousand demons all crying aloud. 
 
 " Share a secret with him ! Let him go with the 
 knowledge, at any moment to be blazoned abroad, of 
 the words he had forced her to hear — the love-words 
 with which this room still rang. Never, never ! " 
 
 This was the note that his Excellency received 
 the following morning. It needed no subtle trans- 
 lator to interpret it. Each w^ord, stamped with the 
 feelings of the moment, bore impress of the writer's 
 mood. It scarcely needed the hastily scrawled lines, 
 signed " Lescynski," asking for an interview, which 
 came almost at the same moment, to further explain it. 
 
 " Ask Prince Lescynski in here," he said to the 
 servant, and sighed. 
 
 There is an age at which to be harassed early in 
 the morning is a certain evil. Our dicfcstions, like 
 our feelings, are apt to rebel as we grow older, at 
 any stress of work. 
 
 " 1 knew," he thought, as he looked round to 
 welcome his visitor, " that I was growing fond of him, 
 and that the inevitable result was sure to follow — 
 that he would shortly make me uncomfortable." 
 
 But he was aware of his momentary annoyance
 
 INGELHEIM. 145 
 
 vanishing at the sight of the worn haggard face. 
 There was more cordiality in his voice than he had 
 himself expected to hear, as he asked his visitor to 
 sit down. " Have some coffee ? You look cold and 
 tired. We can talk afterwards," as Dorislaus began 
 some explanatory words. 
 
 " No, no," the other replied quickly, pushing aside 
 the proffered cup. " No, I am not hungry nor 
 thirsty either. 1 want to speak to you." 
 
 It was with another sigh his Excellency resigned 
 himself. 
 
 To be asked to sympathise with misfortune, or be 
 lenient to follies thus early in the morning, is as bad 
 as to be expected to sparkle at breakfast ; liis Ex- 
 cellency was keenly conscious of this, but he only 
 allowed himself that one sigh of vain remonstrance, 
 and gave himself up to listen. 
 
 " Mad," Dorislaus finished, after a long sketch of 
 the previous night, " of course ; but having been so, 
 there is no use trying to go back." 
 
 " And if mad," his Excellency retorted, " there is 
 no use trying to persuade people afterwards that 
 you have returned to sanity. You must expect to 
 be treated as if you were always dangerous. The 
 pity is," he went on, after a moment, as there was 
 no comment on his words, " that you did not let 
 your friends know that you expected the attack. 
 A madman is so much safer in an asylum." 
 
 " Help me. Excellency, don't jeer at me ; I assure 
 you I am sane enough now — tell me wliat I am to do." 
 
 VOL. T. Iv
 
 146 INGELHEIM. 
 
 His eyes were bent on the ground, lie did not look 
 up as he spoke ; there was something so foreign to 
 the usually trim soldierly neatness in his wet uni- 
 form, his worn aspect, and miserable eyes, that the 
 remark, whatever it may have been, that rose to his 
 hearer's lips was checked. He rose, pushing aside 
 his coffee, and with a turn up and down the room in 
 silence, finally paused by the younger man's side. 
 
 " I have no help, and little advice to offer," he 
 said, and as he spoke he laid his hand liglitly on the 
 man's shoulder. " You must go, and at once ; I have 
 no choice. I have heard," then changing his sen- 
 tence ; " I had a letter from the Princess this morn- 
 ing." He paused again, was perhaps aware of the 
 slight responsive tremble at the name, lifted his 
 hand from its resting-place, and took another turn 
 in the room. 
 
 After that later hesitation, and at the subsequent 
 silence. Prince Lescynski questioned slowly, not 
 looking up, " What does she wish ? " 
 
 " She wishes you to go at once." 
 
 " She is very angry ? " 
 
 There was another faintest note of interrogation in 
 the apparent assent, or so his Excellency interpreted 
 it, for he stood still, and " She is very angry," he 
 repeated. Another silence, and then, " I am going to 
 her shortly ; she has sent for me. 1 can tell her that 
 
 you are leaving — have left It is best. For 
 
 me this is not farewell. We shall meet again — I 
 will write to you — but for the moment it is best."
 
 INGELHEIM. 1 47 
 
 The young man rose now, and there was some- 
 thing like tears in his eyes— a suspicion of a tremble 
 in his voice. These violent passionate natures re- 
 spond so swiftly to any emotion. 
 
 " You give me an easy dismissal, Excellency ; it 
 was not, I fear, what you were meant to do. AVell," 
 as the old man took his hand, " my folly has cost me 
 dear. To a homeless, friendless foreigner your friend- 
 ship and kindness have been so much, that it is 
 hard to part from them." 
 
 " I never preach if I can help it, or upbraid, or 
 do anything that the wisdom of the ancients has 
 declared to be folly ; so I say nothing of what is 
 done. But I am too old to make fresh friends, so I 
 must look forward to seeing you again ; in the mean- 
 time, God be with you. Ask for leave, I will arrange 
 it, and w^rite to-night and tell me where you go." 
 
 He walked to the door with liim, his hand on the 
 young man's arm, and then paused a moment, as 
 if about to add something, but apparently faltered 
 in his intention, or found the appropriate wording 
 difficult, for it was with a silent hand -shake they 
 parted. 
 
 Once more alone, he drew pen and ink towards 
 him, and wrote a note on the subject of Prince 
 Lescynski's leave, and having sealed and sent it, 
 started for the Palace. 
 
 He was at once admitted into the Princess's sit- 
 ting-room, the same room in which the incidents of 
 last night had occurred, and there was not much to
 
 148 INGELHEIM. 
 
 hope, he realised at once, at sight of the well-known 
 face. 
 
 '' You have come. Sit down, Excellency. I wish 
 for your advice." 
 
 But for a moment she did not speak ; it was 
 almost as if she scarcely knew how to begin. 
 
 " You had my note," she began hurriedly, and the 
 colour flushed into her cheeks as she spoke. " He 
 has gone ? " 
 
 " He has gone." 
 
 " And will not return ? " she added, quickly. 
 
 " That is as your Highness wishes — of course." 
 
 " As I wish ? " she repeated. " What else is there 
 possible to wish ? You know all — that he returned 
 here when I was alone. It was cruel, insulting." 
 
 " Insulting ? " The comment, so slow and calm, 
 checked the quick torrent of her speech, but only 
 for a second. 
 
 " His presence at such a time, in such a manner, 
 was an insult." 
 
 "True, Princess. A man who takes advantage of 
 a woman's weakness, to force her to listen to words 
 she does not wish to hear, whatever their respective 
 positions may be, is deserving of no pity." 
 
 " All that I ask now is, that I may never see him 
 again. Do not let it be known — let it rest between 
 you and me, — provided always that nothing arises to 
 remind me of the most humiliating moment of my 
 life." 
 
 Though she spoke with the rapidity of passion, at
 
 INGELHEIM. 149 
 
 tlie end of the sentence she ejave a little breathless 
 pause, and looked with a certain defiance at her 
 listener. Silent for a moment, while his keen eyes 
 noted the defiance slowly die out, the vivid flush 
 deepen, tlie restless discontented eyes almost un- 
 consciously soften, then, as if aware of the change, 
 nervously meet his own, as if to guess therein if 
 they had betrayed aught. 
 
 " Princess," he then said, leaning forward in his 
 chair, his voice growing more earnest, " I have 
 known you so many years — your husband and his 
 mother were very dear to me — for their sakes, as 
 well as for your own, I should wish my advice to be 
 worthy of your following." 
 
 " Give it," she said ; there was a ring almost of 
 impatience in her voice. " I have listened to you 
 always — I believe you wish me well; but," break- 
 ing off, " What is there to advise ? Granted he 
 leaves the country, that no reminder is possible of 
 wliat I have endured, there is nothing more, — the 
 matter is at an end." 
 
 " If you were my daughter " — it was scarcely as if 
 his words were an answer to hers, perhaps he was 
 following some train of thought of his own — " if you 
 were my daughter, I should wish you to be liappy." 
 
 " Happy ? " she repeated ; she spoke more quietly, 
 her looks and tones were alike more composed. 
 " The flrst lesson I received was, that I was never to 
 allow any such thought to arise." 
 
 " Happiness and ambition," the old man slowly
 
 150 INGELHEIM. 
 
 said, " mean treading different paths, and that neces- 
 sitates different results." 
 
 She again flushed slightly, and it was after a 
 moment she said, " You answer yourself. Excellency, 
 they are different roads." 
 
 " True, but there are moments when it is possible 
 to abandon the one for the other." 
 
 She did not comment on his speech, but led the 
 talk into other channels, and shortly afterwards he 
 drove homewards. 
 
 " She understood," he thought, " but she will never 
 entertain the idea of any future which would deprive 
 her of the shadowy authority she possesses. 
 
 " An angry woman," he thought, as he drove 
 homewards to see what could be done towards set- 
 tling the matter with as little talk as possible ; but 
 he did not get farther, the train of ideas being di- 
 verted by the sight of Captain Shore, not in uniform, 
 on his way to the station. A few minutes later he 
 had overtaken and stopped him. 
 
 " You are going away ? " he questioned. 
 
 " I have twenty-four hours' leave," the other re- 
 turned, evidently embarrassed. 
 
 " And you are going to JSTeuheim," his Excel- 
 lency continued. " Yes, I suppose so," as the other 
 assented. 
 
 " Tell your friend it would be as well not to 
 stay there over to-morrow, that I am writing to 
 Paris." 
 
 He was turning away, when, observing something
 
 INGELHEIM. 151 
 
 in Captain Shore's face, he added, " It is best for him 
 that he should disappear, and wisest that it should 
 be quietly. That is the best advice that a friend can 
 give him." 
 
 " But, Excellency, it means so much : it is his 
 career— everything." 
 
 " It is easier to advise. Captain Shore, when we 
 can choose the factors, and foretell the results ; but 
 when we only have to prescribe for results, advice 
 is rarely pleasant." 
 
 " Yes," the other assented, but half unwillingly ; 
 "you would, I am sure, know what is best." 
 
 " Under the circumstances, of course, understood. 
 To go back, you know, is always impossible ; but out 
 of the fresh combinations you may strive for fresh 
 results." 
 
 " An angry woman," he said again that evening, 
 as, after a solitary dinner, he sat down to write to 
 Dorislaus Lescynski. Said it aloud and emphati- 
 cally this time ; but again did not conclude his 
 sentence, thoudi this time the sudden check was 
 not from any outward circumstance. 
 
 It took him a little time and reflection before he 
 began his letter, and he was a long time writing it, 
 though it was short ; and when it was finished he 
 had half a mind to throw it into the fire, and try 
 again ; but finally decided to post it as it was. 
 
 " My dear Dorislaus, — I have o-iven much 
 thought to your affairs during the day, but have
 
 152 INGELHEIM. 
 
 no other advice to offer, except that you should 
 send in your resignation, which will be accepted. 
 
 " To return is impossible. I make no comment 
 on these words. If any other exit from a difficnlt 
 position were possible I would tell you, but I see 
 none. You perhaps deceive yourself by hoping it 
 may be otherwise, or perhaps fail to see what is 
 best ; life is often complex when studying it in our 
 own person, and very clear when we are merely 
 looking on from the outside, in which case we see 
 results, not causes, and it is results we have to 
 deal with. As I told you, I have passed the days 
 of my youth, and have arrived at the judicial age, 
 so offer uo comments on actions of which you 
 have to bear the consequences ; only of this I am 
 assured, consequences are much graver than causes, 
 and mistakes much more often punished than 
 crimes, in which sentence you should discover both 
 sources of anxiety and of consolation. 
 
 '' I can say little more : in the course of the 
 spring I shall go to Paris, and by that time shall 
 hope to hear you have formed some plan for your 
 future. You are young ; believe an old man, 
 that in activity and resolution there is an escape 
 from, or modification of, nearly all the ills of 
 life. And I am not speaking to one without re- 
 source ; you are strong, all you have to learn is 
 to apply your strength. Still, tlie great thing is to 
 possess it ; it is the great want in a weak, undis- 
 ciplined age, in which to want a thing seems to be
 
 INGELHEIM. 153 
 
 sufficient reason for having it, whereas the want 
 and the denial is often the union that forges char- 
 acter. And the secret of how we live is found not 
 in circumstance, but in cliaracter. There are a set 
 of copybook platitudes, which, if I had a son, I 
 should send to him, in the belief he would write 
 them on the tablets of his heart, and profit from 
 their perusal. As you are not my son, I see more 
 clearly how useless the experience of the old is to 
 save the young. I only hope and pray you will 
 interpret them as a sign of affection from 
 
 "Eenest von Reichhofen."
 
 151 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 "Events are only comljiuations out of people's own characters, 
 tlioiisrhts, and wishes." 
 
 The evening of the day that saw so much unaccus- 
 tomed excitement in the Palace was that of the 
 usual weekly rece]3tion, and as she prepared for it, 
 the mind of Virginia Shore was filled with specula- 
 tions as to what was to succeed the drama that had 
 been enacted. Had last nioht been the first act or 
 
 o 
 
 the third, she wondered — was it all over, or just about 
 to begin ? 
 
 In her own troubles, as in those of others, she 
 would always have found a flavour of excitement, 
 which would have tended to set the trouble on a 
 stage ; or, perliaps, it would be more true to say that 
 with such a woman there is an unexplained some- 
 thing, which deprives trouble of some pang. AVhere 
 the brain criticises and speculates on everything 
 before it reaches the heart, there may be less pain 
 when it reaches the more vulnerable spot. In the 
 morning, as slie sat in the window idling over some 
 needlework, wonderini*' the while what effect her
 
 INGELHEIM. 155 
 
 words might have had on Dorislaus Lescynski's pas- 
 sionate nature, she had received an unexpected visit 
 from her brother. 
 
 " Xo, I cannot stay," as she uttered her surprise, 
 and questioned him as to what he was about to do. 
 " I am going to ISTeuheim shortly. I have only hur- 
 ried in to tell you." 
 
 " To JSTeuheim," she repeated, wonderingly. 
 
 "Yes. Virginia." He paused, glanced round to 
 make sure they were alone, and even then lowered 
 his voice when he spoke. " Have you heard ? Have 
 you seen her ? No. Well, you v\rill hear it all soon 
 enough, no doubt. He,'' with a slight stress on the 
 pronoun, " made just the fool of himself last night 
 that I expected, — and, well, of course, the end has 
 come." 
 
 No need to emphasise or add names, even Virginia 
 for the moment was stirred out of her usual calm. 
 
 " Last night, Jerome," she repeated, incredulously, 
 her tlioughts glancing back to the evening; "but 
 impossible ! " 
 
 " You may well say so. He went back after we 
 had left, got in, found her alone, and now," gloomily, 
 " of course, there is nothing- more to add. He is at 
 Neuheim. I have a day's leave, and am going to see 
 him." 
 
 As he spoke, the red slowly faded from Virginia's 
 cheeks, until she was colourless ; no need for her to 
 ask explanations, her quick brain enlarged and fitted 
 out Jerome's few words, until the whole story, with
 
 156 INGELHEIM, 
 
 all its possible consequences, was clear to her mental 
 vision. She had never foreseen this. Habit, custom 
 is so strong, that the idea of his taking the position 
 in such masterful manner, and demanding a settle- 
 ment of it, had never occurred to her. Her taunt 
 of the previous night had probably been in part to 
 blame : it had been founded on fact ; the idea of re- 
 marriage was one of common enough gossip, and one 
 day, she had little doubt, would prove a reality. 
 That it should have had such disastrous effects she 
 was unprepared for. 
 
 A passing stab, that was what she had intended — 
 a stab that should repay those unanswered words of 
 the afternoon ; but that they should have given him 
 strength to strike the blow which probably would 
 set him free from everything — love and pain alike — 
 was not what she had premeditated. But the after- 
 results of a sharp stroke are not to be foretold. With 
 different people consequences are apt to be so very 
 different. As long as constitutions vary, so will 
 consequences. 
 
 But even whilst Jerome was speaking, she had 
 steadied herself, and reviewed all the wide area of 
 possibilities ; and clearest of all stood out one which, 
 even as she looked, passed out of that category. He 
 would not return. It was the first thought, the 
 clearest, the one from which almost unconsciously 
 she shrank, and recognising the shrinking, turned 
 and faced it; there was no lack of courage, either 
 physical or mental, in Virginia Shore.
 
 INGELHEIM. 157 
 
 " It was a daring stroke," she said aloud, whilst 
 her surroundings ceased to sway, and Jerome looked 
 towards her for a comment on his words ; " but she 
 is not a woman to be won in such a way." 
 
 "You think she does not care for him ? Of course" 
 — a scarcely perceptible hesitation — " she does not." 
 
 " My dear Jerome," witli a little mocking laugh, 
 " what a boy you are, notwithstanding all your ex- 
 perience, at least facilities for experience ! Care ! 
 Why, they would hoth laugh at you. Ambition on 
 his side prompting him to a rich marriage ; ambition 
 on hers denying its advantages. Love ! " a trifle 
 bitterly, "it requires a healthier atmosphere than 
 that of a Court for it to grow in. And that reminds 
 me" — she was quite herself again — "you will not 
 forget my tea to-morrow. Tea and music and Miss 
 Traherne, the little English girl from M. Desprez. 
 Mind you are back in time." 
 
 He looked at her in the way a man does look 
 at a woman who meets his earnestness with trifling, 
 when he is not in a position to do more than 
 wonder. 
 
 Judged and condemned in the swift facile way 
 in wliich men do judge and condemn, women were 
 slight creatures who felt little, whom the greater 
 facts of life passed by. He sighed over her want 
 of comprehension, wliich set a gap between him and 
 one whom he honestly admired and loved ; but she 
 was a woman, therefore incapable of judging of a 
 case on its merits — had probably already discussed
 
 158 INGELHEIM. 
 
 it with the Princess, and accepted her view of it, 
 presented, of course, from a prejudiced standpoint. 
 Possibly she was correct in her estimate of the 
 Princess's feelings, as to the man's she was not 
 in a position to judge, whereas he knew. And so, 
 with a promise that he would be back the following 
 afternoon, he kissed and left her without another 
 word. 
 
 Left to herself, Virginia did not move for fully 
 a quarter of an hour ; she remained standing, look- 
 ing forth with unseeing eyes across the fading glories 
 of the autumn garden, where the leaves burnt red 
 and oolden, to the distant waters of the lake. For 
 the moment it was as if the solid ground had been 
 cut from beneath her feet, and it required concentra- 
 tion of thought to realise the fresh surroundings. 
 
 But with the suppleness of vision and accuracy 
 of detail that distinguished her, she had ere long 
 realised the new battle-field, and was prepared to do 
 combat therein. 
 
 The chief sensation was gratitude to Jerome for 
 enlightening her as to the situation, for it was 
 extremely probable that otherwise she would never 
 have known the exact truth ; now she knew, and so 
 armed, was not likely to make a mistake, or at least 
 far less likely. But when she had stood for a 
 moment before the mirror, and had looked with 
 momentary unusual earnestness at her graceful 
 fio'ure, in a soft clino-ino- Qown of Qrass-^Tcen silk, 
 with glittering dragon-flies in her bright hair, there
 
 INGELHEIM. 159 
 
 was an expression in the eyes, a cold mocking light, 
 whicli boded ill to that other woman, whose heart 
 even now was conscious of a nervous anxious thrill 
 at the thought of it. 
 
 o 
 
 For Princess Elvira was also preparing for the 
 evening witli an unaccustomed sense of approach- 
 in o- ill. 
 
 o 
 
 She was not a sensitive w^oman, and was scarcely 
 in the position to have acquired much thought of 
 or for others, which might not be instinctive ; but 
 in these twejity-four hours she had gone through 
 a great deal of mental emotion, and, as is the way 
 with the generality of women, the emotion had 
 been borne by an enforced accumulation of nervous 
 energy which had to find its escape somehow, — an 
 inconvenient law of nature, which many have found 
 who have to live witli tliose to wdiom such accumu- 
 lation is necessary to meet the smallest ills of life. 
 The choice of vent more generally lying between 
 a great storm and constant sliifting winds of irrita- 
 tion, but to Princess Elvira both means of escape 
 were alike difficult. The w\ay was too smooth for 
 storm, and irritation exhibited tow^ards those to 
 wliom it was a matter of indifference was small 
 relief. 
 
 fSo all day the evil had increased; now it took 
 the form of angry lielpless rage, such as had assailed 
 her the previous niglit ; now the anger died away, 
 and she was in fancy smiling back at Dorislaus 
 Lescynski amid the roses of the conservatory ; now
 
 160 INGELHEIM. 
 
 shrinking away from the passion in his dark eyes. 
 Up and down the room she had paced feverishly 
 most of the day, sometimes possessed with a wild 
 longing to send for his Excellency and beg of him to 
 help her. " Help her to what ! who could help her ? " 
 she started at her own thoughts. Almost uncon- 
 sciously she had wandered through the open door 
 into the fernery, and was standing again where 
 she had stood the previous night, listening to the 
 story of his sorrows and his wrongs. 
 
 "We are an unlucky race — unlucky in love as 
 well as in everything else." 
 
 She lifted her hand, and in memory saw the iron 
 band where it had rested amid her sapphires and 
 diamonds — ^just for a moment — as just for a moment 
 the shadow of his darkening life had overwhelmed 
 her brilliant one. She did not think it all out, and 
 picture herself in this position or in that, as Virginia 
 Shore would have done. No, her thoughts ran on 
 madly for a few minutes, like a rebellious horse 
 escaped from its master, to be caught and violently 
 checked, finally hurried away from, as if she knew 
 or feared where they would lead her. 
 
 She had not recalled her past for a long time ; it 
 was very seldom she did think of it. She was a 
 woman essentially of the present moment ; but as 
 she paced the room this long endless day, now and 
 again her thoughts escaped and flew back to her 
 brief girlhood, almost briefer wifehood, and then 
 across these later lonely years.
 
 INGELHEIM. 161 
 
 A handsome girl just freed from convent restric- 
 tions, no mother, and a father to whom life and its 
 pleasures were dearer than was his daughter. 
 
 A father wdiose income was very far below his 
 needs and position, and to whom this handsome 
 daughter was a winning card, that Fate had dealt 
 him late in life. Then the marriage to the elderly 
 grey-bearded man ; the marriage, whose brilliance 
 had been echoed on all sides until she herself had 
 recognised it, and the strong-willed, undisciplined 
 nature had suddenly, even before recognising its 
 needs, learnt the lesson that there was but one 
 legitimate outlet for such power and passion as she 
 possessed — ambition. 
 
 " Conquer your own world," her father said, " and 
 you have achieved such happiness as is possible ; 
 personal happiness for such as us is rarely possible, 
 but substitutes are easily found." And in all the 
 years since, she had been satisfied to believe it was so. 
 
 He who had taught her the doctrine was dead, as 
 was also the husband who had lifted her above her 
 fellows, and she was left in her youth and beauty to 
 make with such factors what shQ could of life. They 
 were much, she had always felt — everything, she had 
 thought, until these late months ; but now it some- 
 times seemed to her as if some cruel voice were 
 always near, ready to whisper what it was that had 
 cast that shadow of discontented restlessness into her 
 sea-blue eyes — what was the need that, if she so 
 willed, might fill her life with interest. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 INGELHEIM. 
 
 And she did not want to know — she whose life had 
 been one proud success — she did not wish to hear 
 any whispering voice that spoke of it as faihire. 
 
 But as the evening drew nearer and the twilight 
 closed in, there approached more and more distinctly 
 a chill dread of the moment when she should meet 
 the cold eyes and mocking smile of Virginia Shore. 
 
 She stood still at the thought, her arms falling to 
 her sides, her swift pacing to and fro stilled, whilst 
 in fancy she saw tlie chilly smile fade slowly, and in 
 the eyes dawn gradually a tender warm light which 
 mellowed their hardness, and gave the fulness of 
 beauty to a lovely woman ; and all the while was 
 conscious that this tender miracle was the reflex of 
 a warmer stronger passion that she had seen glow, 
 and whose swift warmth she had seen die away. 
 Now it might burn on — nay, it w^ould, she knew it, 
 her woman's instinct did not fail her here ; perhaps 
 on some far -past day she had seen and noted 
 enough to foreshadow the future, should the chance 
 arise. 
 
 And now it would arise ; had she not done all she 
 could to facilitate tjie possibility ? And why not ? 
 What was there against it ? In every way a most 
 suitable marriage. Yes, the very words slie had 
 heard about her own. She wrung her hands with 
 sudden passion, a cry escaped her, a low despairing 
 cry. It startled her back into nervous consciousness 
 of where she was, what she was doing — thinking. 
 For tlte twentieth time that day she feverishly
 
 INGELHEIM. 163 
 
 struijffled to command her thoughts, and set them to 
 work in the chosen direction. 
 
 "Send for Prince Oscar," she said to a servant. 
 In her little son's smiles and talk it was easier to 
 read what slie had gained, all she had to lose, 
 than when left to follow her own maddening 
 thoughts. 
 
 This was the reality, this little handsome blond- 
 haired child, who was the link that bound her to the 
 present life, casting over her that shadowy royalty 
 which was his, giving her not only the sunshine of 
 his smiles and the love of his warm. tender heart, but 
 standing to her as the symbol of that greatness to 
 whicli she had attained. It was all a shadow, or 
 little more than one ; but in the world's eyes, her own 
 little world in which she lived, it was a reality. 
 Small wonder tliat she measured with the same 
 measure, and all that lay beyond, love and life and 
 fulness of loving, beloved womanliood, was but an 
 unreal weak foolish dream. 
 
 Down-stairs, in the large well-lit drawing-room, 
 everything went on as usual. Everything was just 
 as it had always been since these weekly reunions 
 had been established. 
 
 Virginia Shore, in her dress of shimmering green, 
 moving about, a slender, attractive picture of grace- 
 ful womanhood, or standing, the centre of a group, 
 whose smiles responded to her light words and 
 clever answers.
 
 164 INGELHEIM. 
 
 His Excellency quiet and watchful, M. Desprez 
 with his delightful self-satisfaction and ready smiles, 
 and the usual crowd of well-known faces and uni- 
 forms ; amongst them here and there some passing 
 stranger, noting it all with amused interest, or some 
 silent w^atcher, whose name w\as better known than 
 his appearance. 
 
 But two well-known faces were absent, and it was 
 not long before low questions, nervous asides, or 
 suggestive looks and smiles, noted the absence. 
 
 But they were uttered in asides : there was a 
 general instinct that Prince Lescynski's name it 
 was as well not to mention. As to Captain Shore, 
 he was his friend ; it was safe to assume that where 
 was the one, there was the other. 
 
 Whatever might be tlie story, Virginia Shore 
 would know it. Of course she was the one to get 
 it from, and yet if any one drew near her with 
 any such intention, it did not come to much. She 
 was a woman to whom it was difficult to address 
 a point-blank question. There was something in 
 the mocking smile which seemed always lying in 
 wait, something in the cold eyes which made people 
 nervous about offending her. 
 
 It was almost as if the Princess avoided her as 
 well, though she had no indiscreet questions to ask ; 
 but at last, as Virginia passed by, she addressed her 
 by name, and then was silent, as if she had nothing 
 further to say. 
 
 " You liave been suffering, I hear," Virginia said
 
 INGELHEIM. 165 
 
 in the pause, in her clear voice ; " you are better, I 
 hope ? " 
 
 '' Yes, I am better," the Princess replied, lifting 
 her eyes steadily to the other woman, and then 
 quickly dropping them. " I was tired last night." 
 
 " Yes," said Virginia, gravely, " so I saw. And 
 feverish I fear, — perhaps it would have been wiser 
 not to have come down to-night." 
 
 " On the contrary, I am hoping the change will do 
 me good. It is not often I spend a day indoors." 
 
 " And you found it wearisome ? Perhaps tliat was 
 only the reaction from the previous fever." 
 
 Again the Princess lifted her eyes swiftly, with a 
 nervous glance which almost denoted fear, but tliey 
 shifted directly under Virginia's. 
 
 " You should be careful, Princess," she added, 
 warniugly ; " the next thing to be feared is — a 
 chill." 
 
 Virginia's eyes did not falter or change, there 
 was no variation in her colour, but the delicate 
 flame came and went under the blue eyes of the 
 woman by whose side she stood. She noted the 
 sudden clasp of the hands, and w\as about to speak 
 again, when she was forestalled by another voice. 
 It was his Excellency who spoke — unnoted he had 
 drawn near. 
 
 " Miss Shore adopting a new profession ? " he 
 queried. " It sounds like a paragraph out of a 
 vade-mecum. AVhat are you prescribing for?" 
 
 " I am not prescribing," she answered, directly.
 
 IGG INGELHEIM. 
 
 " I was giving a warning. That chills follow fever, 
 and therefore the Princess should be careful." 
 
 " In my vade-mecum," he commented, " the chills 
 come first ; but I daresay in the matter of the cure, 
 that is a minor point." 
 
 " You are sure to be right," she retorted, her eyes 
 met his straight, " so I resign the case. Perhaps," 
 with a slight smile, " I am interfering with one 
 which you have already undertaken ? 
 
 "But, seriously," turning back to the Princess, 
 " you do not look well." 
 
 "I am not," she said, suddenly sitting upright. 
 " No," as his Excellency made some suggestion as to 
 the advisability of her leaving — " no, thanks." 
 
 She leant forwards towards her fan, which lay on 
 a small table by her side, and noting the movement, 
 Virginia took it up, and, opening it, offered it to her. 
 
 "The fan," she observed, "with the mysterious 
 means of escape," touching the little jewelled pen- 
 dant; "the same fan," smiling towards his Excel- 
 lency, " that you would keep out of the way of un- 
 liappy women, and which is therefore, as Prince 
 Lescynski observed, so safe with her Highness." 
 
 The name that was being whispered behind every 
 fan, the name no one dared to utter aloud, she spoke 
 it as calmly and distinctly as if there were no silenc- 
 ing curtain dropped between it and the world. Even 
 his Excellency looked at her with a little glance of 
 admiring surprise, but was aware at the same time 
 of the colour Hushing into the other woman's face.
 
 INGELIIEIM. 167 
 
 of the tell-tale droop of her eyes and quiver of her 
 lips, and would have introduced some less agitating 
 topic, had the chance been granted, but there was no 
 consequent pause in the clear cold voice of Virginia 
 Shore. 
 
 " He is not here to-niglit," with a momentary com- 
 prehensive glance round the room, opening and clos- 
 ing the jewelled fan as slowly as she spoke. " Well, 
 he is rarely an absentee. I will tell you something, 
 Princess," with a slight change of tone, and leaning 
 a little nearer, but yet losing nothing of the idle 
 languid grace of movement, which betrayed nothing 
 but the careless talk of a woman striving to amuse 
 or interest. " I have thought of what is the matter 
 with you, and of what you want. Change," with slow 
 impressiveness. " Something new — new toys. This," 
 with a slight, almost imperceptible flirt of her fan 
 towards the lights and the crowd, " grows monoto- 
 nous, and though you do not know it, it is change 
 you need." 
 
 " Perhaps so," the Princess replied, uneasily, and, 
 stretching out her hand, she took the fan, opening 
 and shutting it nervously. 
 
 " I am sure his Excellency will support my views?" 
 Virginia looked up to where he still stood close by. 
 " Don't you think change is good for women ? " 
 
 " Good, did you say, or necessary ? " he retorted. 
 
 " What is necessary must be good surely, or Nature 
 is a very indifferent parent." 
 
 " I think we may concede that point. Nature is
 
 168 INGELHEIM. 
 
 in most cases a very indifferent parent. To the in- 
 dividual of course, not to the race." 
 
 " You may take him of whom we were just now 
 speaking as the text to that sermon, Excellency. 
 Prince Lescynski has certainly been a little unwisely 
 treated by Nature, considering where his lot was to 
 be cast. He is always in earnest, and this is an age 
 in which to be in earnest is terribly out of date." 
 
 There was a slight questioning note in her voice, 
 and she glanced idly from the one listener to the 
 other, as if expecting a comment ; but none coming, 
 she finished her sentence after that pause. 
 
 "He should go and settle in England amongst 
 Englishmen ; I am sure he would feel much more at 
 home there. Yes, that is the advice I shall offer him, 
 if he ever deigns to ask my advice. He would be 
 quite at his ease among a race of beings where he 
 could follow his own habit of never pretending the 
 most fragmentary interest in what does not interest 
 him." 
 
 " You have known him well. Miss Shore, and have 
 evidently studied him carefully, your epitome of his 
 character is therefore valuable. A selfish man of the 
 world might, I suppose, be considered a fair sum- 
 ming-up." 
 
 " Erom which I suppose that his Excellency has 
 also summed up," she swiftly replied, but his words 
 had brought a momentary shadow across the serenity 
 of her eyes. 
 
 " Well, say on ; for antagonistic ideas as well as
 
 INGELHEIM. 169 
 
 kindred ones are often of interest — if well ex- 
 pressed. 
 
 " You make me nervous, but in friendship — love — 
 any of the many connecting-links between ourselves 
 and those about us, there must be, between us and 
 them, if not a similarity of aim, at the least a com- 
 prehension of each other's aim." 
 
 " You are now adopting a monastic habit of speech. 
 Excellency, which is always a convenient garment ; 
 but translated, I suj^pose it means, that I have not 
 in your opinion realised Prince Lescynski's aim, or 
 aims, and am therefore incapable of judging him." 
 
 "Autre pays autre mcjeurs." 
 
 He was silent when he had so spoken, and she 
 went on — 
 
 " Thank you, Excellency. I was dull early in the 
 evening, but that is a past dream. You have amused 
 me, as always. I love enigmas, and now I can take 
 all those you have given me away, and guess them 
 at my leisure. But tlie Princess does not at all 
 appreciate such talk, and, besides, she is ill, so she 
 shall be spared it. Are you never superficial either ? " 
 she added. 
 
 " Either," he repeated, as the Princess took no note 
 of their talk or their silence, but sat on in unac- 
 customed quiet. She lifted her eyes, though, now at 
 A^irginia's answer. 
 
 " It was my advice to Prince Dorislaus, almost the 
 last time I saw him, to cultivate superficiality, and 
 now I see another who needs the same advice. It
 
 170 INGELHEIM. 
 
 is the royal road/' with a little semi -curtsey towards 
 the Princess, " to ease and happiness. Adopt it there- 
 fore also." 
 
 " I am tired," the Princess said, " and am ooing^ to 
 retire. Give me your arm, Excellency." It was a 
 sudden determination, born of the feelings of these 
 last two hours. She said " Good nigrht," and bowincj 
 to those around her, took the old man's arm and 
 crossed the room. 
 
 "Virginia Shore," she began immediately, "is in 
 very high spirits. She says she is going by-and-by 
 to England," she added, irrelevantly. 
 
 "Yes," his Excellency replied, "so she tells me. 
 I often wonder she stays here so much." 
 
 " It is her home ; she is better off here than else- 
 where, she scarcely knows her father's people. Do 
 
 you think " she added, slowly — then, " Come in," 
 
 as he opened the sitting-room door — " come in. Do 
 you think her a beautiful woman ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," he replied. 
 
 " She is brilliant, clever, very clever," the woman 
 enumerated, slowly, " and beautiful. I wonder she 
 does not marry ? " 
 
 " So do I — sometimes." 
 
 "And at other times ? " 
 
 She did not sit down, she was wandering up and 
 down the room, as she had done so much of the 
 day. 
 
 " Oh, at other times," and his eyes smiled ; " I 
 think INIiss Shore knows her own value so well that
 
 INGELHEIM. 1 7 1 
 
 she wisely waits until there is no doubt that she has 
 chosen well — or at least prudently." 
 
 The Princess took another turn, which brought 
 her as far as the dark cool fernery with its starry 
 lamps, and then swiftly retraced her steps. 
 
 " I have sometimes thought," she began, her 
 cheeks burning, her eyes shining, "that tliere was 
 a likelihood of a marriage between her and Prince 
 Lescynski." 
 
 Had she expected a swift indignant denial, a cold 
 surprised refutation of her wild words ? The colour 
 faded again, her eyes drooped at the old man's 
 answer. 
 
 " So have I, Princess — it may come yet." 
 
 Custom — habit does so much for us. 
 
 At the words, for a moment, it was as if there 
 liad needed but this one answer to make her fully 
 aware of the unusual, violent emotions she had 
 known all day, to give the stab to her heart which 
 should explain where and how she was wounded; 
 but she did not cry aloud, or utter another word on 
 the subject : even her passionate, ill-regulated nature 
 bowed to the training which prompted her to hide 
 the wound as soon as it was discovered, and the next 
 ]noment she was seated by tlie fire talking over tlie 
 topics of the hour. 
 
 But when a little later her companion left her, and 
 slie was alone, to suffer unseen, and recomiise what 
 this day had been, and what the future days liad yet 
 to bring, then the waters which had been slowly
 
 172 INGELHEIM. 
 
 rising all the previous clay and night seemed to 
 gather till they had covered her very soul. She 
 had turned a deaf ear, she had refused to acknow- 
 ledge what it all meant — how much she had had 
 offered her, how much she had given up, thrown 
 away — and for what ? 
 
 " I cannot live without him ! " she cried. She was 
 standing now by the window, the curtain pushed 
 aside, her unseeing eyes fixed on the far-off beauties 
 of the moon-silvered lake. " This past day has 
 taught me that. Other days, evenings like this one ! 
 No, no ! it is impossible. I will give up everything 
 else, but not that." 
 
 With feverish energy she drew paper and ink 
 towards her to write. To whom ? w^hat ? Her 
 tired brain, unaccustomed to the excitement she 
 had gone through, to the sleeplessness of the pre- 
 vious nidit, refused to Gjuide her. 
 
 A note, a few words would brinq' him back — 
 perhaps. Her cheeks flushed, what had his Ex- 
 cellency but now said ? Did she not know it her- 
 self ? Left to himself, maddened by her words and 
 her silence alike, he would go — driven away by her 
 own acts and words — and in the not very distant 
 future he would marry Virginia Shore. She could 
 see it as clearly here in the light as previously in 
 the semi-darkness. The passionate love he had 
 offered — refused. Turned to indignant anger by her 
 words of doubt and cruelty, his love would then 
 be offered to another, who would accept it, and
 
 INGELHEIM. 173 
 
 teach him how little he had given up to gain so 
 ninch. "Beautiful, graceful, clever " 
 
 Yes, she knew every line of the fair face, little 
 cause to doubt its power if she chose to exert it. 
 
 The pen was in her hand now, what should she 
 write ? a cloud was beween her eyes and the paper, 
 a beatino; in her ears, or was it the violence of 
 her own heart - beats which seemed to threaten 
 suffocation ? 
 
 " Xo," she pushed the paper away — " no ; she could 
 not write to him — she could not ask him to return, 
 and what else was there for her to say ? 
 
 "There was his Excellency, — a word, a line to 
 liini, and he would understand. That would be 
 better; he had spoken, looked kindly, he was old, 
 he would understand and help her." 
 
 Once more she took up the pen, and barely seeing, 
 with trembling fingers framed the first words, then 
 lifted her eyes, and met, how or why she knew not, 
 the cold mocking gaze of Virginia Shore. 
 
 It was not the slight graceful figure and delicate 
 features she had parted from so lately, but just 
 the malicious curl of the lips, the cold disdainful 
 mockery of the eyes, that she knew so well, dreaded 
 so much. 
 
 They did not fade : other figures, more or less real, 
 came and went, stood by her with a momentary 
 expression of pity, surprise, wonder, as the tale of 
 what she had done reached the ears of her little 
 world ; but these came and went, only Virginia
 
 174 INGELHEIM. 
 
 Shore remained on, mocking at the play which had 
 been played before her, smiling in disdainful amuse- 
 ment at the little comedy. Comedy ! into the 
 woman's blue eyes swept a darting wave of passion. 
 Comedy ! To her who had seen the tragedy in the 
 man's soul, was feeling the tragedy in her own ! 
 
 But at the vision of Virginia she pushed away 
 the pen and rose from her seat. Her taunting eyes 
 followed her as she paced the room ; her low mock- 
 ing laughter pursued her, echoing in her ears when 
 she stood at length, as if flying from it, in the 
 darkened conservatory. Here, where she had stood 
 that other night, she stood now ; all the demons of 
 love and passion, pride and vanity, fighting for the 
 mastery. A battle of which it would be doubtful 
 to foretell the issue. 
 
 Now, as she stood with clasped hands above her 
 beating heart, only the consciousness of his loss to 
 madden, and then, clear and distinct, that fatal 
 laugh, which even here, in the scented darkness, 
 brought the colour to her cheeks witli the swiftness 
 of a blow. 
 
 The chilliness of early dawn was in the air when 
 she found herself standing by the burnt-out embers 
 of the fire, the candles low in their sockets, whilst 
 she regarded with tired aching eyes tlie tiny 
 jewelled pendant, whose diamonds sparkled in the 
 waning light. 
 
 She was mad, so she said, and she started as the 
 w^ords brouo'ht back tliose to which she liad listened
 
 IXGELHEDI. 175 
 
 here so short a time before ; and catching a glimpse 
 of lierself in a glass, she shuddered at the white 
 face, the passionate eyes, the roughened hair, and 
 wild expression. But she did not hesitate ; unseal- 
 ing the little toy, slie lifted it to where tlie light 
 reflected its crystal clearness, then raised and 
 drank it. 
 
 " So safe in your hands." 
 
 She thought of those words spoken by Prince 
 Lescynski and smiled, and then wished she had 
 written to him, and then was glad she had not. 
 
 " It would make no difference, he w^ould never 
 know she had agonised and died rather than live 
 without him, thouo-h she had not had the courage to 
 face the world's sneers for his sake. 
 
 " Died." Yes, after all, her life, of which she liad 
 thought so much, and which had been such a success, 
 had very little to offer, now that this strain was put 
 upon it — now that the gates were ajar, and showed 
 Iier whereunto she might have attained. 
 
 The beats of her heart were calmer now, her eyes 
 were growing heavy ; the long storm, the day's un- 
 usual emotion, was at an end ; she rested her head 
 more easily against the cushions of the sofa ; the 
 yellow light from the lamps casting an aureole of 
 brii>htness on to the golden head, showino- the lines 
 of pain about the mouth, the blue veins on the full 
 white lids. 
 
 Seeing her thus, there was something childish in 
 the curve of the rounded chin, which was at variance
 
 176 INGELHEIM. 
 
 with the upper part of the face — the shadows under 
 the eyes. 
 
 Slowly the eyes closed; a little fluttering sigh, 
 then the quick breathing gradually grew calmer, 
 calmer; the lights faded, flickered, went out; the 
 fire gave a little tremulous sound now and again as 
 the ashes fell, and all was dark and quiet. 
 
 Dawn grew apace, the sun rose in a cloudless sky, 
 glistening dew-drops shone on every spider's web 
 across the untrodden grass, it shone across the 
 placid waters of the lake, touching with autumnal 
 glory the reddening leaves, the brooding swans and 
 their white shadows, and finally stole into the lit- 
 tle boudoir, and touched with rosy light the grey- 
 beard's picture, the little child's, and finally the 
 o"olden curls and soft curved outlines of the woman's 
 face. 
 
 For a minute or two the early sunbeams stole in 
 and out of the disordered masses of her hair, glorify- 
 ing it with rays of golden light, and as they thus 
 wandered, she moved a little, then opened wide 
 anxious eyes on to her unaccustomed surroundings. 
 
 Eor a second or two the past was a blank, and 
 then a gleam of honest sunlight caught and flashed 
 back from the jewelled fan which lay at her feet, 
 where she had dropped it when she had detached 
 tlie trifling toy which lay by it unsealed and empty. 
 Then she remembered ; lifting it with strange silent 
 w^onder, as back to her memory stole the wild storm
 
 IXGELHEIM. 177 
 
 of passion with which she had demanded from it an 
 end of the ills of life. 
 
 Her hands were trembling as she lifted and looked 
 at it. Of course in all these years it had either 
 lost its power, or, perhaps, she who had acquired it 
 had been deceived, and the crystal liquid she had 
 obtained was but a harmless drop of water. 
 
 Anyway, this was the end. 
 
 She laughed aloud, an unmirthful laugh ; this was 
 what her life demanded — a toying with tragedy, and 
 then this finale. 
 
 Who was she, to hope to bring pureness of love, 
 or life, or even death into a life which required of 
 her nothing but a simulation of all the passions ? 
 That was all that was possible ; her life was made, 
 and the great thing was, to live it so that no shadow 
 of a smile or a taunt could follow and hurt her. 
 She shivered ; it was cold, and she opened the 
 dividing - doors and passed into her room, where a 
 sleepy maid sat dozing over the fire. 
 
 When she had dismissed her and was alone, she 
 laughed again, a nervous, mirthless laugh. This was 
 life — her life at least; if she should ever strive to 
 escape the comedy which she had chosen, and walk 
 on the grander lines of tragedy, it was impossible. 
 Her training was against it, the end would surely be 
 bathos such as this. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " ' Wliat new do you find in my face ? ' 
 
 . " ' Much, And you too have stepped into the Valley of the Shadow 
 of Death. Well, a friend can only say, God helj:) you ! ' " 
 
 Neuheim was a dreary little village containing one 
 straggling main street, and an old-fashioned inn with 
 a beer-garden, where the neighbours sat and talked 
 and drank on lono; summer eveninofs. 
 
 Now the leaves were falling, and as the autumn 
 evening was already closing in, it was in a stuffy 
 rarely used guest-chamber that the two friends met 
 to say good-bye. 
 
 Dorislaus Lescynski had spent many hours of the 
 day alone ; he had walked about the village, wan- 
 dered into the surrounding country, striving to pass 
 the hours until the night express to Berlin, which 
 stopped here, should arrive and take him away. 
 
 Under the circumstances, alone, with nothing to 
 think of but the mad act that had brought him to 
 this abrupt pause in his life, by the time it was after- 
 noon, and, dispirited, weary in mind and body, he 
 found his way back to the inn, the overwhelming
 
 INGELHEIM, 179 
 
 passion and despair had worn themselves out, and he 
 merely knew liimself to be physically tired. The 
 day, too, had something to do with it; dull and 
 grey, with a tinge of melancholy over all things, 
 which was as a reflection of his own feelings. 
 
 " Only five." He took out his watch. How was 
 he to G^et throudi the hours till the train left. With 
 a shudder he thought of the close small room, with 
 its white stove, the two or three common coloured 
 lithographs on the walls, yesterday's paper on the 
 table. 
 
 " There is a gentleman here asking for you." 
 
 Who could it be ! Any one for the moment would 
 be welcome. 
 
 He hurried up the stairs and opened the door. 
 For the moment the sight of Jerome Shore's familiar 
 face was so welcome that the revulsion of feeling 
 from his previous desolation to this consciousness of 
 abidinfj friendliness Gfave a huskiness to his voice as 
 he clasped his hand in welcome. 
 
 Perhaps one of the great charms of Jerome Shore, 
 one of the many which endeared him so much to 
 those for whom he cared, was the promptness with 
 which he performed little acts of service. There 
 was almost a shade of womanliness in the intuitive 
 perception he had as to what would please. It was 
 scarcely unselfishness, though it was an immediate 
 recocjnition of how best to serve his friends, born of 
 real heart- kindliness. Other men might sacrifice 
 themselves for those dear to them, either in love
 
 180 INGELHEIM. 
 
 or friendship. There are many who, if the trial 
 came, would do some great thing, but there are very 
 few who would have thought of the thousand little 
 daily acts of kindness which endeared this man to 
 those about him. 
 
 There was also, perhaps, something womanly in 
 the facility of his speech, the readiness with which 
 he could sympathise in words, as well as in thought 
 and act. There was no doubt of the heartfelt relief 
 with which Dorislaus recognised his visitor. 
 
 " Shore, how good of you to come ! " His strong 
 nervous clasp conveyed something of the feeliugs 
 which animated him. 
 
 " What an abominable place you have taken refuge 
 in ! " 
 
 There was a touch of nervousness in Captain 
 Shore's voice as he spoke. " Well, as we are here," 
 he added directly, " let us make the best of it. You 
 have ordered dinner ? No," as the other shook his 
 head, " so best leave it to me. It is one of my strong 
 points, you know, getting the best there is out of a 
 place, or at least one about which I flatter myself." 
 
 Yes, perhaps that was partly his secret, that he 
 had the happy knack of bringing forth the best there 
 was in people as well as in places — a certain quality 
 in himself which called forth responsiveness in those 
 about him. His voice was not clear and distinct 
 like that of his sister, but soft and melodious, wdth 
 some slight lingering on the last syllables that was 
 pleasing to the ear, the voice of the German mother.
 
 INGELHELM. 181 
 
 The dinner was not as dismal as it had threatened 
 to be, and conversation, which had seemed at first 
 difficult, became easier as time went on, and the 
 host's good wine and well-cooked dinner began to 
 have their effect. Prince Lescynski had scarcely 
 been aware how cold and w^retched, how liiuigry and 
 tired he had been, until they sat over their cigars 
 afterwards, whilst the landlord's daughter came and 
 went ; a pretty, fair - liaired, blue - eyed girl, who 
 looked at them with unconcealed interest, and was 
 in herself, as Captain Shore averred, well worth the 
 journey. 
 
 At any rate, her comings and goings had pre- 
 vented embarrassing silences or difficult talk, and 
 for the moment, after being left alone, it was diffi- 
 cult to introduce the subject that was uppermost in 
 the thoughts of both. 
 
 "Well, this is a change, at any rate, from the 
 Thursday evenings at the Palace," so said Jerome. 
 
 " How are you going back ? " Dorislaus did not 
 look up as he put his question. 
 
 " Your train leaves about twelve, does it not ? 
 Well, I don't expect to be up to catch the six o'clock 
 express to - morrow morning, so I shall probably 
 dawdle in by the slow train : it arrives about two 
 or three." 
 
 "It was very good of you to come, Jerome," he 
 leant forward and looked at him, "you don't know 
 how good. I was feeling pretty desperate, I can tell 
 you, and this place all to one's self till twelve o'clock
 
 182 INGELHEIM. 
 
 to-night was not a clieerful one to wait in, with noth- 
 ing to do but think." 
 
 The expansiveness of the speech unloosed Jerome's 
 tongue. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " 
 
 "Do ! What can I do ? " the other retorted. " A 
 man of my education and life is fit for nothing apart 
 from his profession. I can go to Poland and stir 
 up an insurrection/' he added, " I don't see the pos- 
 sibility of any other future." 
 
 " Siberia is a chilly place in winter — so they say," 
 Jerome answered, witli his slight drawl. 
 
 There was a half-smile from his companion. 
 
 "Yes," he said, " it behoves one to remember 
 that." 
 
 " Where will you go first ? " Captain Shore added, 
 after a moment's silence. 
 
 " I shall not stay in Berlin, I shall go on to Paris. 
 Will you write ? " 
 
 He got up when he had spoken, laying down his 
 cigar, and walked over to the small window, pushing 
 aside the curtains. 
 
 "Jerome," he began, without turning his head, 
 *' I can't say anything to you — and besides, we think 
 differently ; but I shall never forget your friendship. 
 You think," he went on, more excitedly, "that she 
 has trifled— misled, — God knows what, and I — well, 
 I think quite differently. I think she has had no 
 clioice." His eyes were lifted to the skies above, he 
 did not look round.
 
 INGELHEIM. 183 
 
 Overhead the grey dull day had given place to a 
 dark nioht, into which the stars were stealino; one 
 by one. 
 
 There is nothing colder and purer than starlight — 
 moonlight is different, it is magic, it makes familiar 
 things unreal, starlight merely purifies them. 
 
 In a great susceptibility to external influences 
 there is always a source of danger. For a man of 
 Dorislaus Lescynski's emotional temperament there 
 was always an unconscious reflection of the passing 
 moods of others, even of those of nature. The sight 
 of the calm sky overhead, with the puffs of cloud 
 wafted lightly across it, chilled him, disturbing 
 his lately acquired calm. 
 
 " Starlight is a wretchedly cold thing," he said, as 
 if to himself. 
 
 " Calm though, and lovely," interposed Jerome, 
 looking across to where his friend had Hung up 
 the window, and was leaning out into the chilly 
 night. 
 
 " Perhaps. But it is a hateful thought," Dorislaus 
 added, a moment later, " if you think how far off the 
 stars are from us — that their li£>ht was kindled eras 
 before we came into existence." 
 
 " It does not do to think of such hows and whens," 
 Jerome answered — he also had laid aside his cigar ; 
 " we can only accept what is." 
 
 " Even," questioned Dorislaus, with a bitter laugh, 
 " when we know it is nothing — merely the reflection 
 of a dead fire !
 
 184 INGELHEIM. 
 
 "That's all rubbish/' he went on, looking back 
 into the room from where he stood now with his 
 back to the window; "we must, as you say, make 
 the best of what is, and not waste time regretting 
 that the past is past. Notwithstanding your warn- 
 ing, I am in the mood now in which I should make 
 a first-rate conspirator." 
 
 He began pacing then up and down the room 
 with swift nervous steps, sometimes talking, some- 
 times in a despairing silence, and Jerome recognising 
 that, thought it was as well he was there, yet after all 
 they were on that debatable land where friendship 
 is powerless to do more than sustain with the know- 
 ledge of its presence. 
 
 In one of Bourget's novels he reminds us that it 
 does not do to judge of a man's character by one 
 individual action. Just • the judgment we are the 
 most likely to pass, whereas an individual action is 
 not even significative of the man, but merely the 
 result of a momentary combination of circumstances, 
 lifting him above, or pushing him below, his natural 
 self. It is always possible, and the steady habits of 
 years are at once forgotten in the wild momentary 
 outburst which may never be repeated. 
 
 Thus involuntarily Jerome Shore, with the facility 
 with which we all accustom ourselves to new cir- 
 cumstances, had ceased to think of Dorislaus as the 
 man with whom he had been intimate for so many 
 years, and had in a moment come to view him en- 
 tirely in the light of one from whom mad eccentric-
 
 INGELHEIM. 185 
 
 ities might at any moment be expected. The mad- 
 ness was significative, perhaps, of the forces that had 
 lain dormant for long. After all, there may have 
 been instinctive reasoning^ in his mental attitude. 
 Even an apparently extinct volcano is not always 
 to be trusted, how much less when we ourselves 
 have seen it in course of eruption ! 
 
 "I am still rather mad," he said, presently; "at 
 least I liave not reached that point of sanity where 
 w^e regret we have betrayed our mental weaknesses 
 to others." 
 
 He spoke defiantly, yet with a half -questioning 
 note in his voice, to which Jerome replied — 
 
 " Dorislaus, I cannot help you ; I wish to good- 
 ness I could ! It seems black enough, and blacker," 
 after a slight hesitation, " because I don't believe she 
 is worth it." 
 
 He rose as he spoke, as if he expected a violent 
 answer, but none came. Dorislaus had turned back 
 again to the starlit night — perhaps had not heard. 
 Jerome hoped he had not. But it was not so. 
 Though he was looking now at the chill light 
 above, now to the dark world below, still, which- 
 ever way he looked, it was to see the red gold of 
 her hair, the angry light in her eyes, the passionate 
 words that had wounded, the cold silence that had 
 followed. 
 
 And other times, other happier moments, came 
 back, when she had smiled at him, and called him 
 to her side, making easily read excuses to keep him
 
 18G INGELIIEIM. 
 
 near her, when her cheeks had reddened under liis 
 looks, and her eyes drooped under his. 
 
 Was that the meaning of it all ? Just a coquette 
 to whom this homage was flattering, but from whom 
 no response was possible. 
 
 And yet, yet the very thought brought a swift 
 refutation, as back to his memory came looks and 
 tones he could not mistake. A quick painful sigh 
 escaped him, he looked down to find Jerome stand- 
 ing by his side. 
 
 " Forgive me," he said, gently ; " it is only because 
 I am wretched at your going away that I am prompted 
 to make such observations. That you believe in her," 
 with a nervous falter in his voice, " is quite enough 
 for me." 
 
 "You are a good fellow, Jerome," Dorislaus said, 
 gratefully. " If I have had no luck in anything else, 
 I have had it in friendship." 
 
 He smiled so saying, the rare smile which light- 
 ened his face, that was always a little sad, and gave 
 added sweetness to the eyes and to the mouth, which 
 was severe in repose, and the smile lifted something 
 of the weight off Jerome's heart. 
 
 '' I will walk with you to the station," he said, 
 noting how late it had become, and Dorislaus gladly 
 assented. 
 
 It was a relief, even though speech was difficult, 
 not to be left sooner than need be to the dominion 
 of his own thoughts, — the memory of the past, the 
 gloomy prophecy for the future.
 
 INGELHEIM. 187 
 
 "If I think of anything to do, I will write and 
 tell you, Jerome," he said, as they sauntered down 
 the village street, "though I don't see much possi- 
 bility of it ; but I am not fit for idleness, and as you 
 don't advise Poland/' he added, " I do not see what 
 chance I have." 
 
 " Oh, the world is all before you — except Poland, 
 or the diplomatic service ; I don't advise that." 
 
 " Another limitation. Why not ? " 
 
 Dorislaus spoke absently, but he smiled again at 
 Jerome's answer in his soft voice — 
 
 " I should be afraid you might not succeed. It is 
 rather a gift to know how to deal with royalty." 
 
 " Sometimes," Dorislaus answered, " you are very 
 like your sister — that is an observation she might 
 have made. She is very clever," he finished, slowly. 
 
 " Thank you, Dorislaus, you are very flattering. 
 I am glad I am sometimes like her." 
 
 Prince Lescynski did not laugh, or refute the 
 words. " But even out of her sentiments," he said, 
 " you take the sting." 
 
 " No, I am quite harmless." Jerome sighed. " I 
 shall step through the world quite easily and 
 safely." 
 
 Dorislaus looked at him, he was a little the taller 
 of the two, Jerome's grey eyes were lifted to meet 
 his own. 
 
 " There is no safeguard for the future," he cried, 
 
 with a ring of passion in his voice, " unless " 
 
 he hesitated. " Get Miss Shore to teach you," he
 
 188 INGELHEIM. 
 
 added, " she is the only person I know who holds 
 the secret." 
 
 " Yes," said Jerome, vaguely, " she is different 
 from other women." 
 
 He was conscious of, and disturbed by, the other's 
 passion. 
 
 " But, after all, I do not wish to avoid feeling. 
 One pays for it," he began, with a dim idea of 
 offering consolation, " of course, but " 
 
 " Yes, it has its price," the other retorted bitterly. 
 " Make sure when you pay you get your money's 
 worth — that is what I mean by Miss Shore's secret, 
 that you should get her to teach you." 
 
 " Yes, yes " His words had again ruffled the 
 
 surface, the outward calm had deceived him for the 
 moment into believing the storm had subsided. " It 
 is a mistake to give yourself away — that is an 
 Americanism, but a good one," and he strove by the 
 aid of German and French to render its meaning, 
 with the kindly thought of reaching lighter topics 
 before they parted, but his efforts were futile. It 
 was almost in silence the quarter of an hour in the 
 station was passed, pacing up and down the ill-lit 
 platform ; and when the train came in sight and 
 a place had been found, even a parting word was 
 difficult to think of. 
 
 " If," Jerome hazarded — " if you would like me to 
 come to Berlin, or Paris even, you will let me know, 
 won't you ? If it is possible to get leave, I would 
 go to you."
 
 INGELHEIM. 189 
 
 " Thank you." Dorislaus held out his slim brown 
 hand and clasped the other's. " I can say nothing, 
 my soul is black with despair," and he gave a 
 nervous little laugh, " but I sliall not forget all the 
 same. Write." 
 
 That was his last word as the train moved slowly 
 out of the station, and Jerome nodded, it seemed 
 to him he could say nothing. Those other words 
 were sounding in his ears, the reflection of them 
 was in the face he watched till it passed from his 
 sight. 
 
 It seemed like watching the darkness slowly draw 
 out of his sight a young life full of promise ; what 
 would become of it in that loneliness and darkness 
 into which he had seen it taken ? to what would 
 the despair in the brilliant eyes give place ? 
 Vaguely Jerome Shore realised that he had been 
 present at a crisis in a life, and that afterwards — 
 by-and-by— something would be the result. That 
 after this anguish must ensue a new birth. At 
 every crisis in life it is as if we were facing eter- 
 nity. Eternity, of course, is always about us, but 
 mists conceal it. Sometimes, however, a light 
 thing pushes them aside, sometimes we ourselves 
 ascend into the high places, and tlius pierce the 
 clouds. 
 
 Unwillingly or willingly, anything that lifts us up 
 above ourselves takes us into a new life, and to a 
 man, surely the better higher part of him is created 
 by what lie loves. By force of circumstances, or
 
 190 " INGELHEIM. 
 
 through innate strength, or even through love of 
 combat, the descent into the arena may be taken, 
 but once there no retreat is possible. There are 
 only two exits, as the Spartan mother said of old — 
 " With this or upon it."
 
 191 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Un sourire n'est qu'uue larme qui seclie ; la joie u'est qii'un chag- 
 rin qui se calme." 
 
 The mists assembled again towards morning, the 
 stars vanished one by one, and when the dawn broke, 
 a steady soaking rain was falling, so fine that it 
 had almost the effect of a fog, as Captain Shore 
 looked now and then towards the window, as he 
 linG^ered over a late breakfast. 
 
 The loneliness and gloom were depressing, and it 
 was with nnfei2;ned relief that he at last recoonised 
 the hour had come when he was at liberty to walk 
 to the station witliout the prospect of unlimited 
 waiting there. 
 
 He had given himself as much time as possible 
 in his anxiety to escape the gloom of the " Golden 
 Lion," but the rain was too persistent to make 
 dawdling desirable ; almost unconsciously he hurried, 
 splashing through the puddles, only to discover when 
 within sight of the station that he had allowed a 
 wider margin than he had intended. AVell, it was 
 a change, and liad turned tlie current of his tlioughts ;
 
 192 INGELHEIM. 
 
 besides, he had escaped the society of the commercial 
 travellers, who were following in the omnibus, and, 
 though damp and dreary, the station was under 
 shelter: it was better to walk up and down there 
 than to sit on in loneliness. 
 
 The station was as yet deserted ; but under its 
 roof, he was able to walk, pursuing his own 
 thoughts, protected from the rain, and it was ten 
 minutes before he made his way outside, to see 
 if there were any signs of the omnibus and his 
 luggage. 
 
 Passing a bench placed at the corner of a 
 draughty narrow passage which led into the outer 
 air, he noticed that it was occupied by a young girl, 
 with whom the station-master was holdim:,^ a longj 
 conversation, or rather monologue. 
 
 He was not near enough to hear the particulars ; 
 it sounded very uninteresting, all about trains and 
 times, and expresses and " ordinarys " ; but he was 
 speaking so loud and emphatically, and the girl was 
 listening with such an expression of strained atten- 
 tion, that he was unavoidably attracted. 
 
 The official turned away, interrupted apparently 
 in the midst of his explanations by a voice from the 
 office, and Jerome approaching, with the intention of 
 passing through the dark entry, saw two tears slowly 
 well out of the girl's eyes, and steal slowly, unheeded 
 and unchecked, down her cheeks. 
 
 The unusualness of this display of trouble, for she 
 seemed quite unconscious of his presence, never
 
 INGELHELM. 193 
 
 lifting her eyes, touclied him, and as he half paused, 
 she looked up. 
 
 A slim figure, a young face, very young, with 
 soft eyes, now dim with tears, set under straight 
 black brows, and an expression so troubled that he 
 did not aofain hesitate. 
 
 " You are in trouble," he questioned ; " can I help 
 you ? " 
 
 A Cjuick shadow of fear passed into her eyes, and 
 then, her ^'oice trembling with eagerness, " Do you 
 speak English ? " she asked, in very foreign German. 
 
 " Surely," he smiled. " I am English," he added, 
 encouragingly ; " what can I do for you ? " 
 
 " Tell me," she was standing up now, her voice full 
 of half-terrified eagerness — " tell me, ])lease, how I 
 can get back to Ingelheim ? " 
 
 " The train leaves at two," he answered. " I am 
 waiting for it also, so you need not worry any more 
 about it. You have your ticket ? " he questioned ; 
 " I am cjoinoj to Q,et mine." 
 
 o o o 
 
 " Yes, thank you," and she held out a return half. 
 
 " That is all right ; I shall be back in a moment. 
 Don't let us stay here," he w^ent on, as he re- 
 appeared ; " it is the draughtiest and chilliest corner 
 in the whole station. Did the station-master recom- 
 mend it," he questioned ; " I heard him giving you 
 a great deal of advice." 
 
 " No, I have waited there all the time." 
 
 " All the time ? " he repeated, wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes," she said, seating herself in the place he 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 INGELHEIM. 
 
 indicated ; " I came to catch the early train, but I 
 just missed it." 
 
 " And have you been here ever since ? " 
 
 " Yes," she sighed. 
 
 He noted now, looking at her more particularly, 
 that she was white and wearied, and his heart was 
 touched, amid his brain - wonderings, as to the 
 cause. 
 
 "But you should not have waited here in this 
 desolate cold place. Tliere is an hotel close at hand. 
 I wonder your friend the station-master did not ad- 
 vise it." 
 
 She coloured quickly, hotly, with a young girl's 
 nervousness, and then, " I did not understand him," 
 she replied. " I do not know much German," lifting 
 her eyes, which were soft and gentle ; " I could not 
 make out what he said." 
 
 " But you should not be travelling alone, under 
 such circumstances. I beg your pardon," as she 
 made no reply; but in a moment she went on — 
 
 " I want to send a telegram. Could you ? " colour- 
 ing ac^ain, and hesitating:, — " I don't know how 
 
 They will be so anxious." 
 
 " Yes, certainly, write the address," and he took 
 the pencil off his chain and held it out with an old 
 envelope ; " I will send it." 
 
 She scribbled a line in English, and gave it to him, 
 with a look of evident relief. 
 
 " It is just to tell them," vaguely, " when to ex- 
 pect me."
 
 INGELHEIM. 195 
 
 He took the scrap of paper and glanced over it as 
 he turned away, and then looked swiftly back, with 
 a little start of surprise. 
 
 " Of course," he began, " you are M. Desprez's 
 English pupil. It was stupid of me not to guess it. 
 Well, you will not know me ; but to-morrow, any- 
 how, we were to have become acquainted; I am 
 Captain Shore, Miss Shore's brother." 
 
 A look of pleased recognition chased the shadows 
 from her face. 
 
 " Yes, I know. Miss Shore is very kind, I am to 
 go to tea with her to-morrow." 
 
 When he came back, after a few minutes' absence, 
 she was still sitting just where he had left her, her 
 eyes fixed on the dark passage, down which he had 
 disappeared. There was no doubt about the glad 
 relief as he approached. 
 
 " Only a sandwich," holding out a little parcel ; " it 
 was all I could find, but it is better than starving to 
 death. Fortunately there is a restaurant close at 
 hand," lie said, sitting down beside her ; following 
 him w^as a buff-headed, stupid-looking waiter, with 
 a bottle of wine and two glasses. " It is lucky, 
 isn't it," he went on, cheerfully, " that I decided to 
 come and wait here, instead of stopping till the last 
 moment at the 'Golden Lion'? Now we can re- 
 fresh ourselves before we get into the slowest train 
 in Germany." 
 
 She shook her head at first, but he w^ould not take 
 a refusal, and when slie had tasted the wine, he noted
 
 196 INGELHEIM. 
 
 that the colour stole back into lier cheeks and lips, 
 and that she ate the food with appetite. 
 
 " It will be late also," he went on, " slow trains 
 always are; so you must tell me how all these mis- 
 fortunes came about." 
 
 Tliere was something so kindly and encouraging 
 in his manner and voice, that in a few moments all 
 her slight story was told. 
 
 She had been spending a couple of days with an 
 old lady, a friend of M. Desprez, and it had been 
 arranged she was to return this morning by the nine 
 express ; that she had been driven to the station in a 
 little basket-carriage by the old lady's gardener, and 
 that when she arrived on tlie platform it was to find 
 the train liad gone. 
 
 She had not understood very well at first wdiat the 
 station-master had said, and when slie had grasped 
 his meaning, that she had missed her train, and had 
 to wait until the afternoon, she had run out into the 
 road, to find the carriage and the fat pony, and the 
 f^ardener, who had said he wanted to o-et back, had 
 disappeared, and that she was alone in this strange 
 place, unable to make herself understood, and under- 
 standing little, except that there were hours to wait. 
 
 '•' It was a very long time, and I was very un- 
 happy," she ended. " When you came, he " (looking 
 towards the station-master) "told me something which 
 I could not understand, and it seemed hopeless." 
 The memory of the past misery came across her, and 
 chased away the smiles that had been lightening her
 
 INGELHEIM. 197 
 
 eyes. For a moment there was the reliectioii of the 
 tears he had seen ; but they vanished immediately 
 ■when she looked up at him, and an expression of 
 confidence and reliance took their place. 
 
 " But it is all riglit now," she said ; " it was stupid 
 to be frightened and nervous, but I am not used to 
 bein;:;: alone." 
 
 " I think you were only hungry," he answered 
 pleasantly, " not frightened. And now we need not 
 have another anxious moment ; we have telegraphed 
 to Miss Desprez, so we can hope that her mind is at 
 rest ; we are warmed and comforted, so far, at least, 
 as the day admits of it — and here is the train ! " 
 
 The train was not crowded, at least it was easy to 
 find an empty first, into which he took her, and then 
 seated himself opposite her. Now that she was at 
 ease, and the expression of patient weariness which 
 had first attracted his attention had disappeared, he 
 saw that there was something very pleasing about 
 the outlines of her face, which was a delicate oval ; 
 the smooth dark hair, wliich waved lightly over the 
 pretty forehead ; the soft tenderness of the eyes, 
 with their straight black lashes and clearly defined 
 brows. 
 
 If not beautiful, or even pretty, there was a great 
 deal to interest. The figure, though immature and 
 nnformed, was slight and graceful ; the ungloved 
 hands, clasped in her lap, were well shaped, the 
 small head was carried proudly. 
 
 She did not talk much spontaneously, but it took
 
 198 INGELHEIM. 
 
 but a few words from him to elicit from her the 
 history of her short iineventfiil life. 
 
 Uneventful, at least, until these last months, into 
 which it seemed all there was to tell had been 
 crowded. 
 
 There was unconscious relief for him in turning 
 his attention to something so very different from the 
 sea of trouble with which he had come in contact 
 the previous night. He was in a measure so reflec- 
 tive of the moods of others, that a part of the 
 black shadow in which Dorislaus Lescynski had 
 walked had enveloped him also, and he experienced 
 something of the escape from actual sorrow^ in this 
 young, fresh, untried nature, which had about it 
 the calm and promise of dawn. 
 
 He drew her on to talk ; so much older, so much 
 interested, it was small wonder he succeeded. 
 
 Looking back afterwards, it surprised her to re- 
 member how much she had told him, how many of 
 her hitherto unspoken hopes and fears she had laid 
 bare to this stranger. 
 
 But he was so kind, she thought, and she smiled 
 to herself at the recollection of the blond head, the 
 eager grey eyes that had looked at her with such 
 interest, the voice that had questioned her. 
 
 It was a long journey : three hours in a slow 
 train, with a stop every quarter of an hour, admits 
 of much conversation, and intimacy is accepted 
 under such conditions. When they were approach- 
 ing Ingelheim, the dull rainy afternoon w^as closing in.
 
 INGELHEIM. 199 
 
 " I will get you a cab," he said, " if Miss Desprez 
 is not here. Of course," as she faltered some hesi- 
 tating words, " it is too wet to walk. I would take 
 you myself," he added, " only that I must go straight 
 to the barracks. I am late also," he smiled. 
 
 She smiled also, but her eyes were serious. They 
 were stopping now ; she leaned forward to speak, 
 evidently words were not easy to find. 
 
 "Captain Shore, you have been so good," she 
 began, nervously. 
 
 He was standing up ; looking down, it was only 
 her eyes that he saw. N'otwithstanding their pret- 
 tiness, it was not of that he was thinking, but of 
 some unusual tender pathos, scarcely the expression 
 of a child ; they seemed to hold either an inherit- 
 ance of pain, or the prophecy of sorrow yet to come. 
 Anyhow, it touched him in a way for which he was 
 unprepared. As if one should smile at a child, and, 
 instead of a laugh, be answered by the look of one 
 who had done battle with the world. 
 
 He did not make a light rejoinder, such as had 
 at first risen to his lips; he answered, seriously, 
 that he was glad he had been there, and then they 
 were in Ingelheim, and Emilie Desprez was on the 
 platform, full of tender affectionate words to Dolores, 
 and of thanks to him. 
 
 "Your message was such a relief," she was walk- 
 ing by his side as they left the station ; " I have 
 been most terribly anxious. Yes, we ought not to 
 have sent her alone, but 1 could not go, and father
 
 200 INGELHEIM. 
 
 was away, and had wished it. But they should 
 have been more thoughtful. Poor little Dolores," 
 she took the girl's hand in hers, "it was most 
 careless ! 
 
 "But now it is over, and safely over," with a 
 grateful glance at Captain Shore ; " we will forget 
 all the troubles, will we not, Dolores ? and remember 
 only the pleasant part. That is, you." 
 
 Dolores did not answer, but she lifted her head 
 and looked at him in the sudden glare of a flaring 
 gas-jet, and there was little difficulty in reading her 
 assent.
 
 201 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Le souvenir du Plaisir est un Boulicur, le .souvenir du Boulieur est 
 un Rcsret." 
 
 ISToTWiTHSTAXDiNG the fatigue and anxiety of the 
 day, the mental and physical weariness which raade 
 Emilie send her to bed early, Dolores was far too 
 excited to sleep. The narrow routine of her life at 
 Beverley, wdiich had been exchanged for the wider 
 horizon and larger interests of the last few months, 
 both had now given place to a jvarely personal sen- 
 sation of the possibilities of life such as she had 
 never hitherto imaoined. 
 
 o 
 
 She had been a child so long, that perhaps it was 
 natural there should be no intervening space, but 
 that she should suddenly become a woman. The 
 very necessities of her life so ordained it. 
 
 She tossed restlessly about for many hours before 
 she could sleep, whilst over and over in her fevered, 
 over-tired brain, was re-enacted the little drama of 
 the morning. 
 
 The tears, of wdiich she had been almost uncon- 
 scious at tlie time, recurred to her memory, and
 
 202 INGELHEIM. 
 
 made lier Hush in the darkness ; the kind tones of 
 his voice rang in her ears, each little sentence re- 
 turninfv, and making itself heard in the stillness. 
 
 At last she fell asleep, an uneasy, troubled sleep, 
 with disturbing dreams, that faintly reflected the 
 occurrences of the day, but brought into the new 
 scenes far-off, half-forgotten forms, as is the perplex- 
 insf habit of dreams, and when she awoke it was of 
 James Traherne she was thinking, his indistinct 
 presence that was her last dreamful consciousness. 
 
 She lifted herself on her elbow and looked to- 
 wards the shelf where the photographs of those 
 who had constituted home looked down upon her. 
 A homely uninteresting little group. Mrs Traherne 
 in a wide-spreading crinoline, one hand stiffly hold- 
 imx a basket of flowers, the other resting on a small 
 table. Mr Traherne, a more modern attempt — a 
 head only; his small unimportant features magnified 
 into portentous size, coarseness vulgarising what 
 was merely uninteresting. The two girls standing 
 side by side, their neat plaits betokening extra care 
 for such an occasion, and their stolid expressions 
 indicating a shadowy nervousness that had seized 
 them at the fatal moment ; and over and above 
 these, in a plain leathern frame, just as he had given 
 it to her before leaving, tlie well-known form of 
 broad-shouldered Jem Traherne. One of tliose pic- 
 tures which we now and then come across, and which 
 make us realise the value of photography. 
 
 It was he himself, as she had seen him hundreds
 
 INGELHEIM. 203 
 
 of times, standing very straight, with his arms 
 fokled, his head lifted in the way she knew, his 
 clear grey eyes looking straight before him, the 
 hair pushed back from his low broad forehead ; 
 even the shabby old shooting-suit, the familiar garb 
 which he had worn on so many rambles, in which 
 she had borne him company. 
 
 She had not forgotten him, nor indeed any of 
 those towards whom she still looked as home ; but 
 of late they had ceased to occupy the chief thoughts 
 in her life, natural but painful fact, that it is the 
 everyday and familiar things which constitute the 
 chief part of our lives and thoughts ; but this morning 
 she was aware of a pang of regret as she realised 
 liow much they had become the past. It is leav- 
 ing hold of a rope that secures us to the shore, to 
 forsake the past. Oftenest we do it unconsciously, 
 without realising it until another life has taken the 
 place of the old one, but should we realise what is 
 happening, there is always an instinctive effort to 
 prevent it. 
 
 " I will write to him to-day," was Dolores's 
 thought as she dressed. " jNIy last letter was very 
 short, there is really so little to say. But I know 
 he likes to hear from me." 
 
 She looked aoain, as she so decided, at the strong- 
 self-reliant figure, and sighed. Sometimes, when 
 the woman's soul is born, it can read the secret that 
 the child's careless eyes had not discovered ; per- 
 haps such presentiment of discovery was at hand.
 
 204 INGELHEIM. 
 
 M. Desprez was away — to both girls this fact was 
 a relief. Emilie talked much more than usual, both 
 at breakfast and afterwards, as she came and went 
 amid her household tasks, wdiilst Dolores sat in the 
 sitting-room busy over her letter. 
 
 She was excited still, and she found the letter 
 difficult of composition ; but this excitement was 
 different from that of the preceding night. It was 
 not retrospective but prophetic. Every time the 
 little clock struck she was aware of the fact that 
 another hour had passed that separated her from 
 this coming afternoon. She did not hide her hap- 
 piness, would not, if she could. Emilie was well 
 aware of it, and interpreted it as the natural delight 
 of a young girl, who was kept very hard at work, at 
 the prospect of a party of any kind ; and this one 
 held all sorts of possibilities, for Miss Sliore's name 
 was well known, and much commented on by the 
 good people of Ingelheim. 
 
 She only wished, and she sighed as she noted the 
 girl's excited eyes turned to the dull rainy day, that 
 it was with such feelings she herself were looking 
 forward to it. 
 
 The weight on her heart was so heavy that now 
 and then she suddenly paused, aware of it, to ask 
 what it was that hung over her, casting such a 
 shadow before. Then started to find that it was 
 the prospect of meeting Antoine. He who alone 
 held for her any personal happiness — he, with wJiom 
 an occasional word or passing glimpse these past
 
 INGELIIEIM. 205 
 
 months had been sufficient to fill her life with sun- 
 shine for days. And now she knew that in all human 
 probability she w^ould be with him for a couple of 
 hours, able to look at him, speak to him, listen to 
 the enclianting music of which he held the key, 
 and with all this in prospect, nothing but a heart- 
 ache. 
 
 " It must be conscience," she said, wearily, " and 
 
 yet " And in answer to her doubting words 
 
 up came the special pleader that we all retain, and 
 sought to establish a case for her. 
 
 " You are only doing what your father himself 
 wished. Miss Shore's guests are a matter for her 
 to decide. Your father has not even forbidden your 
 speaking to him. To forbid him coming to his 
 house is a very different thing. Besides, you owe 
 a duty to the man who loves you, and whom you 
 love, as w*ell as to your father. Even Dolores, child 
 as she is, recocinised that." Thus in inward ar^u- 
 ment and outward calm the day wore itself away. 
 Dolores's letter was written, Emilie's household 
 duties accomplished, it was time to think of pre- 
 paring for the afternoon. 
 
 " We will drive," Emilie decided, though Dolores, 
 eager for a walk, and the necessity for an earlier 
 start, combated the idea. 
 
 But the longest hours slip past somehow ; the 
 moment of departure came at length. M. Desprez's 
 smart little brougliam appeared, and Emilie, unsmil- 
 ing and wearied, conscious of swerving from the
 
 206 INGELHEIM. 
 
 right, with a weak inability to foresee the end, 
 stepped in, to continue the battle which had torn 
 her soul all day, and seated herself by the girl, 
 whose glad young eyes reflected the expected happi- 
 ness which youth foresees, and recognises as its own 
 especial lot. 
 
 Miss Shore was awaiting her guests. She turned 
 from the contemplation of the dull weather to wel- 
 come them. 
 
 " I don't believe it will ever be fine aQ,'ain," she 
 said, in answer to Emilie's comment on the rain. 
 " Not that that matters ; I am one of the lucky beings 
 whom weather does not influence. But you will sit 
 down. Take off your cloak ; you must find the room 
 warm, and I will give you tea — real English tea," 
 with a smile at Dolores. 
 
 It was so easy for Virginia Shore to make herself 
 charming, and even if the charm was only to be 
 exercised over a little stray schoolgirl, she could not 
 resist it ; there was an incentive in the easily recog- 
 nised effect on the girl. Eniilie Desprez had won 
 her heart : her kindness and sweetness, the love 
 with which she had welcomed her, had aroused 
 gratitude and tenderness, but this was quite different. 
 This was a scene out of fairy-land ; she herself was 
 under a spell. This quaint room with its strange 
 ornaments, the flowers and ferns, the pictures and 
 books, the weapons on the walls which caught and 
 reflected the glow of firelight from the open hearth,
 
 INGELHEIM. 207 
 
 the tall "racefiil woman, with her bright hah' and 
 clear colourless complexion, in her clinging gown 
 of dark bright red, which was just a shade brighter 
 than the dull red of the walls. It was something 
 unimagined, unpictured in thought or dream, and 
 the only sensation she had was that this enclianted 
 ground was worthy of the hero who had come to 
 her help yesterday. 
 
 It was a world above and beyond her own, she 
 thought, with girlish humility and enthusiasm 
 minoied, but it w\as a world in which she liked to 
 imagine him living ; and her soft eyes followed Vir- 
 ginia's every movement, noted the slim ringless 
 hands amongst the silver and delicate Sevres, the 
 sweep of the crimson gown. She did not wish to 
 talk, she scarcely heard, and did not heed the con- 
 versation between the others ; her attention was so 
 absorbed that slie coloured hotly wdien she recog- 
 nised she was being addressed. 
 
 " Then I must not ask you to sing, but we 
 shall have other music. Do you like my orna- 
 ments ? " following the girl's curious glances round 
 tlie room. " Afterwards, if you like, I will show 
 them to you. My brother will be here presently," 
 she added, " he will tell you all about them, he tells 
 a story better than I do." 
 
 She turned back again to her talk with Emilie, 
 who, she recognised, was not at her ease ; perhaps 
 she half guessed the reason, but she must find out, 
 and before Antoine arrived. All her own interests
 
 208 INGELHEIM. 
 
 were pushed aside, as with clear eyes and thought 
 she set her mind to fathom the state of affairs. Tor 
 some reason there was a difference — then the affair 
 must be in a different stage — and if so, it would be 
 of interest to know in what. Emilie Desprez was 
 no actress, beyond the intuitive skill each woman 
 possesses, when it comes to hiding her heart's 
 workings ; there was little Virginia Shore did not 
 know or guess, as the time passed. 
 
 It is a good plan to have read a play through 
 before taking our place in a theatre. One can then 
 appreciate the points better, although, perhaps, if we 
 wish to judge of it as a whole, it is almost better 
 to have come unprepared. To Virginia the small 
 points were of greater interest than the plot ; it 
 made really but very little difference in the inter- 
 est and excitement the play afforded, how it ended. 
 It was the characters that were of interest, not the 
 plot. 
 
 By-and-by Miss Shore suggested a duet, the osten- 
 sible cause of Emilie's visit. 
 
 " It is good practice," she said, '' and I so rarely 
 have the chance. And you," she went on, turning 
 to the girl, " will you be happy, and amuse yourself 
 as you like ? there are plenty of books." 
 
 " I am quite happy," Dolores replied. " Thank 
 you, no, I do not want a book ; it is so lovely, I 
 like looking about." 
 
 Virginia smiled, well pleased at the heartfelt flat- 
 tery, and took her to her own especial seat in the
 
 INGELHEIM. 209 
 
 narrow space between the two rooms ; the curtain 
 was lifted that separated it from the sitting-room, 
 and Dolores remained by the window, looking across 
 to the distant waters of the lake, whilst the others 
 began their diiet^ Her heart was beating in an 
 unaccustomed way, it was a relief to be alone for a 
 moment ; the music fitted into her dreamlike feelinos, 
 she was scarcely aware of voices, whilst she watched 
 the shadows of approaching night stealing across the 
 distant park, and blurring the colours of the flowers 
 in the gay parterres below. 
 
 Into the other room, meanwhile, had entered Cap- 
 tain Shore and Antoine Llitz. Virginia had played 
 steadily on through their entrance, just turning her 
 head with a nod and a word ; but she was well aware 
 that her companion faltered, glanced up with a ner- 
 vous smile, and continued almost mechanically after- 
 wards. 
 
 " Miss Traherne is not here ? " Jerome questioned, 
 leaning over his sister. 
 
 She did not look up — could not — in the midst of 
 a particularly intricate passage, but she murmured, 
 " Yes ; in the window, behind the curtain," to the 
 time of the music. " Go and speak to her ; " and as 
 Jerome prepared to obey — "tell j\r. Llitz to help 
 himself to tea if he likes it, which I doubt. I can- 
 not leave off';'' ^^^^ Jerome gave his message, and 
 then walked across the room. He was relieved, he 
 had felt distinctly disappointed when he had come 
 in and found no one there but Emilie Desprez. He 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 INGELHEIM. 
 
 had a curiosity to see again his tearful friend of 
 the Neuheim station, aud also the girl whose eyes 
 had met his by the light of the gas-jet. He half 
 wondered what she would be like here, in these very 
 different surroundings, which he had learnt to asso- 
 ciate with such very different people — ladies of the 
 Court, ladies whose laughter and smiles and interests 
 he knew so well, to whose caprices he was so used ; 
 ladies with the same tastes as his sister, for instance 
 — like her, perhaps, in that, though different in all 
 else. There was only one Virginia Shore, he thought 
 proudly. 
 
 Yes, this was a very different type from those of 
 whom he had been thinking; the red walls and 
 gleaming spears, the odd, incongruous weapons, had 
 never formed a background for such a one as this. 
 
 From where he stood he could see the black-clad 
 figure. A black cashmere, Mrs Traherne had de- 
 cided, was the most useful dress for a best one. It 
 was a very plain unremarkable dress, but Dolores 
 was quite satisfied with it — it may be doubted if she 
 had ever given it a passing thought. It was her 
 best, that was all, and therefore of course to be worn 
 on such an important occasioD. Emilie's clever 
 French fingers had manufactured a soft, black velvet, 
 wide-brimmed hat, and from under its shadow her 
 sweet eyes looked over the dreary winter landscape 
 with a touch of that content, yet mingled with ex- 
 pectancy, that they had reflected all day. 
 
 At the slight sound he made she turned her head,
 
 INGELHEIM. 211 
 
 and there was little doubt as to her feelings now. 
 The swift red coursed up into her cheeks, her lips 
 parted with a smile of welcome, her eyes smiled too, 
 as she made a step towards him holding out her 
 hand. 
 
 " I was so disappointed," he said, " I was afraid 
 you had not come. AVhy did they send you in here, 
 or did you hide on purpose ? " 
 
 " No ; ]\Iiss Shore told me I might look at every- 
 thing, and I stopped here to listen to the music and 
 to look at the garden. Is it not all beautiful ? " she 
 went on, " I never imagined anything like it, and 
 she'' with a wave of enthusiasm, "is lovely! The 
 loveliest woman I have ever seen in my life." She 
 took a step nearer, and looked past him towards 
 the piano, where was visible the sweep of a 
 red gown across a fur rug, the outline of a small 
 head. 
 
 Jerome was pleased ; any praise of his sister, even 
 from such an ignorant source, gratified him. 
 
 " Don't go," he said ; " it is very nice in here, and 
 we can talk. If we went in there, they would begin 
 asking us to be quiet, and I have so many things to 
 tell you. Sit down," he added, " and I will creep in 
 and fetch you some tea at an especially noisy part. 
 No ? " as she shook her head — " oh, you have had it," 
 with a little mock sigh of relief, " I thought you were 
 going to pretend you w^ere so Germanised that you 
 had learnt to dislike it." 
 
 ''• I am not very Germanised yet," she said, gravely,
 
 212 INGELIIEIM. 
 
 " when I cannot understand a station-master telling 
 me about my train." 
 
 "Well, we must be very glad of that," he answered, 
 " because if you had talked as brilliantly as I do, for 
 instance, you would have travelled for two hours 
 yesterday in a carriage with four mothers and eight 
 children, and I should have had a smoking-carriage 
 to myself." And then they both laughed, and some 
 one on the other side of the curtain said, " Hush," 
 and they laughed again, and it was to Dolores as 
 if she had been stealing through a solitary, dark, 
 uninteresting path, and all of a sudden she liad 
 found her way into another world, where the 
 sun shone, and every one was gay and happy and 
 young. 
 
 " I will speak in the lowest voice possible," Captain 
 Shore said, after the rebuking " Hush," " and you 
 need not speak at all, just nod to show you hear me ; 
 but M. Llitz notwithstanding, I must attempt to do 
 as my sister told me, and amuse you. Now, how 
 shall I begin ? " 
 
 " With these," Dolores answered, softly, " I have 
 been wondering all this time about them." 
 
 Over the tall narrow arch which led into tlie room, 
 and across which, on the other side, a curtain was 
 looped, here on this inner side were crossed above 
 the doorway two drooping flags, their torn ragged 
 folds where Virginia's eyes could rest on them, when 
 she looked up from her work, away from the garden. 
 They harmonised with the rest of this strange room,
 
 IXGELIIEIM. 213 
 
 and held, like all else in it, an interest apart from a 
 woman's life. 
 
 " They are French," he said, " my fatlier captured 
 them in 70 ; " and then, noting the interest in her 
 eyes, " he was wounded in the war, and soon after it 
 left him an invalid. He gave them to Virginia ; she 
 was only a child then, but she was like him, and 
 grew up a brave, strong, self-reliant woman, and she 
 was never tired of hearing about the war and what 
 lie had done and suffered. His picture is in the 
 other room on an easel ; you must look when you 
 return, and you will see how much she resembles 
 him. We can go now," he went on, as there was a 
 cessation of music, followed by the sound of many 
 voices. " Ah, his Excellency, that is his voice." He 
 was standing by the opening, and without looking 
 round, " Well, it's much nicer in here, I think ; but 
 of course it's more amusing in there, so," looking 
 suddenly back, " perhaps you had better come. His 
 Excellency will favour you," lowering his tones a 
 little, " with some of his wisdom, I daresay : he is 
 very kind to the young." 
 
 "No, please don't," — she stretched out her hand 
 almost involuntarily, — " don't go. I don't know any 
 one else, and Emilie will be busy," — in nervous short 
 sentences. " I have never," — flushing, — " been to a 
 party before. I don't know what to do." 
 
 He almost felt inclined to laugh just for one 
 moment, and then he recognised the deep earnest- 
 ness in eyes and voice, and did not even smile.
 
 214 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " And I liave been to so many," he said, " that it 
 really does not seem fair. But it's useful, isn't it ? " 
 — he had reseated himself in the chair from which 
 he had risen — " because I can tell you all that you 
 don't know." 
 
 " Perhaps," she began, " you ought not to stay." 
 
 There was a wistful eagerness in her voice, and he 
 combated the words at once. 
 
 " No, my duties are very clear," he smiled ; " they 
 were told me at once, and I am fulfilling them at 
 present. Duty is not often so easy, is it ? " 
 
 He had drawn a chair beside her, and had seated 
 himself ; it was so easy, as he had said, so delightful 
 to find a listener to whom the smallest facts of 
 everyday life were a revelation, and whose eyes so 
 frankly expressed their owner's content — it was, in 
 truth, hardly worth while to move. 
 
 In the other room the music had come to an end. 
 Antoine and Emilie were talking by the piano, 
 seizing these moments — in which Miss Shore was 
 busy giving his Excellency a cup of tea — to 
 speak, or attempt to speak of all that was in their 
 hearts. 
 
 Something, however, was wanting. Emilie was 
 aware that by-and-by she would recall much she 
 had wished to say, and would recognise that this 
 opportunity had been neglected ; it was so seldom 
 they met, and now her tongue was dumb, and 
 nothing would come but the trifling small -talk 
 which the piano and music conjured up. Antoine,
 
 IXGELHEIM. 215 
 
 too, looked ill — worse than the last tmie — and 
 coughed often, a wfeak wearing cough, which pained 
 her to listen to, and she was aware, as her father 
 had been, of the inefficiency of his greatcoat. All 
 these things rose up when she would have spoken, 
 and brought tears to her eyes ; then, recognising the 
 unsuitability of the moment for tears, she strove 
 to avoid the words that might bring them — small 
 wonder she was not at her ease. 
 
 When his Excellency had put in an unexpected 
 appearance, for a moment Virginia was perplexed. 
 It was so seldom he took part in any of the social 
 meetings of the place, that her mind at once con- 
 ceived the idea that there was an object in this visit, 
 and if so — what ? 
 
 She bowed to him, and smiled, but she did not 
 pause in her playing, and until the end her swift 
 thought was reviewing all possible reasons : it was 
 of the tragedy of wdiich she had had unsatisfactory 
 glimpses, of the Princess's face as she left the room 
 wdth the old man the previous evening, that she was 
 thinking, when at last she approached him with all 
 that seductive grace and charm which had van- 
 quished little innocent Dolores. 
 
 " You are wondering why I am here," he said, as 
 they sat together by the tea-table ; " I wdio so seldom 
 pay visits — even duty ones ? " smiling. 
 
 "Ah, Excellency, do not deprive me of the de- 
 lightful idea that I am the exception — the rare 
 exception, in which pleasure and duty combine."
 
 216 INGELHEIM. 
 
 "Yes, Duty very seldom," he replied, "sets up 
 housekeeping with Pleasure." 
 
 " It is an unnatural alliance," she added ; " a 
 marriage with a view to divorce." 
 
 " I never thought," he went on, " of your having 
 friends. Wishing to say a word to you, this seemed 
 a favourable opportunity." 
 
 " He had something to say, then — her conjecture 
 was correct;" so ran her thoughts, whilst he was 
 deciding that to attempt diplomacy with Virginia 
 Shore would be a mistake. Seeing what he had 
 seen, knowing what he knew, there was only one 
 way in which to act, and that was, instead of 
 ignoring her acquired knowledge, to accuse her of 
 it, and show his recognition of the fact that her 
 words had not been lightly spoken, but with 
 intent. 
 
 " The moment is a good one for confidences, Excel- 
 lency," she said, after that moment's pause, lifting 
 her clear eyes from the teacups. " We are alone — 
 practically," with a glance towards the two by the 
 piano, then to the looj)ed curtain, whence came the 
 murmur of voices, now and then a laugh. 
 
 " That which Jerome has told you must remain 
 a secret — useless to say so," he smiled, " to one of 
 Miss Shore's well-known discretion." 
 
 Yes, this sharp sudden move was the best. She 
 had expected some leading up to it, this swift at- 
 tack she was not prepared for. Her eyes fell, the 
 colour came in a faint delicate tinoe into her colour-
 
 INGELHEIM. 217 
 
 less cheeks, and then, as if ashamed of the momen- 
 tary inalertness, she looked up and spoke at once. 
 
 " Of course. Courts have taught us both that, 
 Excellency, have they not ? You allude, I suppose, 
 to Jerome's visit to jSTeuheim." The colour had faded 
 again, she was once more apparently herself. 
 
 " In this case," his Excellency went on, " we have 
 not only to keep a secret, but we must not allow it to 
 be suspected that we possess one." 
 
 " That does not leave us mucli enjoyment in its 
 possession, does it ? " 
 
 " Not from a ivomans point of view," with a slight 
 stress on the words ; " power, even of an illegitimate 
 sort, is not to be despised." 
 
 Again the keen eyes fancied they detected a sHght 
 change of colour, but the light was growing dim in 
 the room, and she did not avert her eyes. 
 
 "You always open out such interesting topics of 
 conversation, that you are a perfect godsend. What 
 should you call now — for a husbandless woman, of 
 course — a legitimate sort of power to exert ? " 
 
 " It is so much easier to define the illegitimate," he 
 answered. " When it is used to intimidate, that is a 
 small use surely to which to put a great weapon ; but 
 I have my own theory on that subject also." 
 
 " You will tell it to me, I am sure. Excellency ? " 
 
 " It is the unusualness of possession that makes 
 a woman anxious to use it, and show of what she is 
 the possessor, whereas a man can rest content with 
 the knowledge that it is close to Ins hand, if ever he
 
 218 INGELHEIM. 
 
 should stand in need of it. It is better/' he added, 
 after an ahnost imperceptible pause, "to be loved 
 than feared." 
 
 " Yes, so people say," she assented, slowly, medita- 
 tively, as if reflecting over the justice of the proposi- 
 tion ; " but aphorisms make themselves remembered, 
 whether they are worthy of remembrance or not." 
 
 " It is difficult to fit them into our life at all the 
 angles, but they are a pretty fair summing-up of the 
 results of life on the majority," he assented. 
 
 " And how about the minority ? " 
 
 " Oh, the minority," he laughed, " ignore the past, 
 and frame aphorisms for another generation ! But 
 now, as I am here at such a fortunate moment, I 
 suppose I may see the English girl. Tell me about 
 her. If I have heard particulars, they have escaped 
 me." 
 
 " I will post you myself, and then bring the girl to 
 be cross-examined ; you must be very gentle, she is 
 only a child." 
 
 " Am I ever otherwise ? Why," he said, mock- 
 ingly, " I think if you took the votes of Ingelheim, no 
 one would fear for the victim who had survived Miss 
 Shore, and was afterwards given over into mi/ tender 
 mercies. We may be rivals," with a little bow, " but 
 I fear I must relinquish any hope of victory." 
 
 " That is flattery, I suppose ; but as I have every 
 intention of some day entering the diplomatic ser- 
 vice, I naturally seize the opportunity of profiting 
 by your friendship."
 
 INGELHEIM. 219 
 
 " It is an old story, that of the pupil outdoing the 
 master ; sometimes the master dies of envy, some- 
 times he is satisfied with reflected glory. I am not 
 envious, Miss Shore, so I shall look forward to my 
 declining years being brightened with your successes. 
 I am glad you have recognised in which direction 
 lies your path to glory ; sometimes people make such 
 fatal mistakes in the choice of a profession." 
 
 " Ah/' there was no change in her voice, but a 
 slight, almost imperceptible trouble in her eyes, 
 which it required those of his Excellency to ob- 
 serve. " Is Neuheim a finished episode, an inter- 
 lude, or the final act of a drama?" 
 
 It amused his Excellency, this swift learning of 
 his own lesson, this quick attempt to embarrass him 
 in return with a sudden awkward question ; direct 
 questions are often difficult of avoidance, but under 
 the circumstances there was nothing to be gained by 
 hiding anything. She knew all the facts, of that he 
 was assured, it was on that assurance that he had 
 acted to-day. 
 
 " It was the third act," he replied quietly, " but 
 it is supposed that it has passed unobserved. Jer- 
 ome," after a slight pause, "will be cautioned." 
 
 " People who don't hear much current criticism," 
 she went on, as calmly as he had spoken, " often 
 imagine that the first and second acts have been 
 unobserved ; it therefore does not occur to them 
 that we vulgar outsiders are all waiting impatiently 
 to see the curtain rise on the last scene, and that
 
 220 INGELHEIM. 
 
 we are more astonished and inclined to gossip when 
 the lights are suddenly put out, and we are told 
 there is nothing more. Why, for what else did we 
 pay for the best places ? It is no use even clamour- 
 ing to have our money back, because," smiling, and 
 leaning a little towards him — " because if we do, 
 immediately a very polite, well-dressed, grey-haired 
 gentleman is sent before the curtain to warn us of 
 the futility of our hopes, the unreasonableness of 
 our demands." 
 
 " It must be a very uncomfortable position for the 
 grey-haired gentleman," was his only comment. 
 
 " I am sure it must," she assented, cordially. " You 
 would, I feel certain, like to hear about my little 
 guest, and what can I tell you ? Where would you 
 have me begin ? " 
 
 "Give me a clue, at least. What is the ' has been' 
 that has led up to the ' now is ' ? " 
 
 '^ My information is second-hand ; it comes from 
 Jerome, who has a way of gaining the confidence of 
 the incjenuous. Thouoh there does not seem much 
 to tell. Apparently nothing has happened to her 
 from the day she was found and adopted by a dull 
 respectable English family, until Herr Lauren tins 
 captured her and brought her to live with the 
 Desprez." 
 
 " And is she happy there ? " 
 
 " She thinks M. Desprez is delightful — so kind, 
 so' good-tempered. Emilie has quite won her heart, 
 and in addition has the romantic charm of being
 
 IXGELHEIM. 221 
 
 the heroine of a love-story ; and to-day," pausing a 
 moment, " she has set up a new idol, and begun to 
 worship it." 
 
 '' Not Jerome, I liope ? " 
 
 " No, — Virginia." 
 
 '' Well, that is better." 
 
 " Is it ? " questioned Miss Shore. " Well, she 
 will tell you all this, if you are discreet in your 
 questions. Xow, is au introduction still worth 
 while ? I can tell you this, though," as his Excel- 
 lency made a sign of assent, " I mean to take her up 
 in return for her worship, though not only for that 
 reason. To hear of such a monochromatic life is 
 appalling, it is an incentive to prove there is more 
 vivid colourino; in the world." 
 
 "A change is not always a gain. To some people," 
 with a little bow, " even scarlet is not as becoming 
 as grey." 
 
 " But always grey. Excellency, think of it ! To 
 know that what happened yesterday will certainly 
 happen to-morrow, it is like living in a fog." 
 
 " It is the atmosphere of many lives — many con- 
 tented lives." 
 
 " Ignorance, Excellency, therefore to be en- 
 lightened. AVhy, happiness, it is almost universally 
 allowed, outweighs its purchase-price." 
 
 " And that is ? " 
 
 " Pain, I suppose." 
 
 " Even in liappiness and its price," he replied, 
 " there are degrees. If you can purchase what you
 
 222 IXGELHEIM. 
 
 want at the cost of slight temporary discomfort, 
 it would be unwise not to make the bargain ; 
 but, like most other things, it is a question of tem- 
 perament." 
 
 Their last sentences had been exchanged as they 
 moved across the room. Now they were standing 
 close by the curtain, and as Miss Shore and her 
 companion appeared in the aperture, Jerome rose, 
 and with a hot nervous blush so did Dolores. 
 
 She was in doubt as to what she ouoht to do, 
 and when Captain Shore had acquiesced, and had 
 reseated himself by her, she had been a little afraid 
 of the result of her own words and acts. As time 
 passed, however, in the happiness of the moment, 
 the anxiety was forgotten, until now it was recalled 
 by Miss Shore's reappearance. Her words, however, 
 were calming. 
 
 " Well, Miss Traherne, I hope Captain Shore has 
 done his duty and amused you; he told me all 
 about the adventure yesterday. It was fortunate. 
 Excellency, was it not, that he should have found 
 himself at Neuheim yesterday ? Neuheim, hitherto 
 unfamed in story, will wake up one day and find 
 itself historical." 
 
 Ignoring her words, "Tell me," his Excellency said, 
 turning to the girl, " what took you to Neuheim ? 
 Let us sit down here ; you have found the snuggest 
 corner in this charming room, — and tell me how it 
 happened. And you," looking towards Virginia, 
 " instead of pursuing historical researches, play to
 
 INGELHEIM. 223 
 
 US. Something light and cheerful, and suitable 
 to me." 
 
 " Offenbach ? " 
 
 "The very thing. We shall both then be in a 
 familiar region, — I the listener, and you the player." 
 
 " Excellency, you are inferring " 
 
 " I am inferring nothing. I am petitioning." She 
 smiled — a smile that rested for a moment on them 
 both, and disappeared, followed by Dolores's admir- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 It did not need much, as Virginia had hinted, to 
 draw forth her admiration in words— the wave of 
 worshipful adoration that was moving her heart. 
 
 " She is most beautiful," she repeated, " I never 
 imagined any one like her ; and not only beautiful, 
 but so clever." 
 
 From talking of her surroundings he led her on to 
 speak of her own future — what were her aspirations, 
 . her fears, her hopes. 
 
 In a year or eighteen months, she confided to him, 
 M. Desprez believed slie would be able to sing in 
 public ; in the meantime she must work very hard, 
 " for I am not at all clever, and I had not learnt 
 much before I came here ; but so much depends on 
 my succeeding, that I should like to foresee the 
 future." 
 
 " Do not wish that," the old man replied. " Trust 
 and Hope are better companions than prediction." 
 She looked perplexed. 
 " You see," she began, " it does not matter so much
 
 224 INGELHEIM. 
 
 for others ; but if / fail," blushing hotly, " I have no 
 home — nowhere to go — no one to whom I really 
 belong." 
 
 " That makes the present more important," with a 
 slight stress on the word, "because the present is 
 our own to make what we can of it, whereas the 
 future is the uncertain, on which we may never lay 
 a possessive hand." 
 
 " M. Liitz said something like that one day. He 
 told me to strive for better success than merely 
 to please, but that, you see, is what is really 
 necessary." 
 
 " M. Llitz meant, I suppose, that there is false 
 success and true ; we should be sorry for a child 
 if w^e saw it offered a golden crown and a tinsel 
 one, and found it accept that which we knew to 
 be worthless. M. Liitz is faithful to his own 
 principles." 
 
 " Yes, he is very good, though it seems a pity " 
 
 She reddened a little, and paused uncomfortably, 
 and his Excellency guessed she had chanced on a 
 dangerous topic. 
 
 " One of these days," he said, kindly, " I shall 
 hope to hear you sing, and in the meantime you 
 must leave the future alone, and enjoy the present, 
 and keep young and happy as long as you possibly 
 can. Ah, here is some one in search of you, I 
 think." 
 
 Brother and sister were standing side by side, 
 so different when seen thus close tooether, it was
 
 INGELIIEIM. '2'2o 
 
 difficult to remember how alike they were when 
 apart. 
 
 " Yes, ]\Iiss Desprez is talking of the necessity of 
 departure," Virginia replied ; " Jerome will find 
 your cloak," to the girl, "it is by the piano, I 
 think." And as they turned away, find his Excel- 
 lency was saying good-bye, " Tell me first," she said, 
 lowering her voice and coming a step nearer into 
 the small dark anteroom, — " tell me what you 
 think." 
 
 "What does that matter," he retorted, smiling, 
 " when you have already decided ? " 
 
 " But I like my opinions indorsed." 
 
 "Well, I indorse. I write my name in full 
 across all you said ; but I think, — mind I am only 
 hazarding an opinion, — that the admission of fresh 
 colouring should be done warily. I think, for in- 
 stance, that more harmonising shades — than red — 
 might be found." So saying, he smiled at her, where 
 she stood straight and slight in the semi-darkness 
 as a vivid scarlet flame. 
 
 " I will bear in mind what you say " 
 
 " But will go your own way." 
 
 "I am not M. Desprez," she answered, sweetly, 
 " I cannot go my own way, and pretend it is 
 yours." 
 
 "There is somethinci' for us still to learn. It is 
 
 o 
 
 certainly a useful accomplislnnent ; but valuable as 
 it is, we will, I hope, retain it only for our own 
 use ? " 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 INCIELHEIM. 
 
 "You fear I am going to initiate my little ad- 
 mirer into the mysteries of diplomacy. No, Ex- 
 cellency ; and, to tell the truth, I don't think she 
 would prove an apt pupil." 
 
 " Neither do I," he assented ; " but change of 
 soil and climate will sometimes work great and 
 unexpected changes, which," he concluded, slowly, 
 " would be a pity. It would be a pity, for instance," 
 he went on, "if criticisms about the Desprez 
 changed wholesome admiration into doubt." 
 
 "You think truly that worship of any idol is 
 desirable ? " 
 
 "For the worshipper, and for a time. There is 
 one great advantage youth possesses, that almost its 
 only duty is to respect authority ; whereas, grown 
 older, w^e have first to question the authority." 
 
 "There is certainly great and easily acquired 
 peace in obedience, Excellency, but it is often the 
 peace of a coward." 
 
 "Defiance is not always a sign of courage," he 
 replied, " though it is sometimes a necessary accom- 
 paniment ; but definitions of courage, or lessons in 
 it, are not needed by Miss Shore. Good-bye ; you 
 flatter me by listening, and so delude me into talk- 
 ing unnecessarily — good-bye again." 
 
 "Which would Ingelheim consider the greater 
 flattery. Excellency — your talking to me, or my 
 listening to you ? I leave you to decide," she said, 
 smiling, as she held out her hand, and then turned 
 to say good night to her other guests.
 
 INGELHEBL 227 
 
 '•' You must come and see me again, Dolores," slie 
 said to the girl ; " perhaps one afternoon M. Desprez 
 will allow YOU to come and sit with me when I am 
 alone. To-day I had no opportunity of hearing all 
 I want to hear ; you will petition him ? " she said 
 to Emilie ; " he is easily reached in that way, I 
 believe. I will sign a bond of 'no music,' and 'no 
 company ' either, only just myself." 
 
 Dolores's flush of pleasure was a gratifying 
 answer. 
 
 "I should like it," she said; and again as she 
 was leaving, " you will not forget," she said, 
 wistfully, and Virginia promised she would not. 
 
 " I will write directly I am sure of an idle 
 afternoon." 
 
 And happy in the promise, Dolores left with 
 Emilie and Captain Shore; Antoine accompanied 
 them, and on finding they were going to walk, went 
 out with them into the dark night. 
 
 "The brougham had to meet my father," Miss 
 Desprez explained, " and there is not really much 
 rain. Dolly, put on your cloak," as the girl came 
 out into the still soaking foggy atmosphere, " where 
 is it?" 
 
 " Oh, here." Dolores laughed at her own care- 
 lessness, as she noted Captain Shore had it. " Is 
 it worth while ? " lifting her face to the dark 
 sky. 
 
 " You very careless child," he said, as the other 
 two took a step into the darkness away from them,
 
 228 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " l^ouriiig rain, and a risk of a cold and sore throat, 
 and in addition your best dress spoilt." 
 
 "Yes, it is my best," she said, a note of soberness 
 in the words. " I don't suppose it would be im- 
 proved by getting wet." 
 
 He wrapped the cloak round her, and opened the 
 umbrella. 
 
 " Now we can dawdle as much as we like," he 
 said, complacently ; " for we are so well protected 
 from the weather by this enormous umbrella that 
 we shall scarcely know what is going on beyond it." 
 
 But if they dawdled and were unconscious of the 
 rain, or at least untouched by its saddening influence, 
 it was not so with the other two. 
 
 " You are unhappy, Emilie," the man said, directly 
 they were aware of being alone, except for that otlier 
 couple as much hid from view as if beneath a tent. 
 " What is it ? Anything new ? You are not your- 
 self to-day." 
 
 " I am very anxious," she answered — " anxious 
 about your health, unhappy about the future, it 
 all seems so hopeless ; in part, I daresay it is the 
 weather, there is something so gloomy and de- 
 pressing about this persistent rain, it affects my 
 spirits." 
 
 " And mine. How dependent we are on Nature ! 
 I feel every smile and frown she gives." 
 
 " Not like Miss Shore," and Emilie smiled a little ; 
 " she is superior to Nature's frowns and smiles 
 alike."
 
 INGELTTEIM. 229 
 
 " Unim^^ressed by them at any rate;"' Aiitoine 
 corrected. 
 
 " How does the opera get on ? " Emilie questioned, 
 a moment later. There was still, though now they 
 were in truth alone, that nameless barrier wliich 
 made conversation difficult. 
 
 " It grows," he answered, and into his eyes came 
 that brilliance that little Dolores had seen and mar- 
 velled at, the brilliance that made the haggard worn 
 face young. " Do you think it is vanity ? " he went 
 on, "but one day I believe that its music will be 
 heard and appreciated — not now, not yet, but one 
 day. Is it vanity V he repeated. 
 
 " No, Antoine," she answered, tenderly, " it is the 
 assurance of knowledge." 
 
 He took her hand in his and stroked it lovingly. 
 
 " You will hear it," he said, " you will understand 
 it." 
 
 " Yes, I shall understand it as I understand you — 
 through love." 
 
 o 
 
 Her voice was low, but he heard tlie words, and 
 lifted her hand and kissed it. 
 
 " Emilie," he said, with momentary unaccustomed 
 passion in his voice, " come to me. AVhat does it 
 all matter ? Marry me, and leave this wearying life 
 behind. Speak to your father, or let me ; you 
 are of an age to say, ' I will.' How can he prevent 
 you ? " 
 
 "Oh, I cannot," slie sighed. 
 
 This was tlie next step ; new decisions, new obli-
 
 230 INGELHEIM. 
 
 gations would arise as the consequence of these past 
 meetings, and she could only sigh and say " Impos- 
 sible," and all the time wonder what would happen 
 next. 
 
 " I cannot insist, I never could against my father's 
 wishes ; " and the other equally determined voice, 
 " I cannot forsake Antoine, I cannot, now especially 
 that I see how ill he is." 
 
 The two voices speaking alternately, and to some 
 vague far-off day the decision was postponed. 
 
 " Where does my duty lie ? " she thought, despair- 
 ingly, as she stood alone in her room that night by 
 the open window watching the rain that still fell 
 steadily down — " My father, old and lonely, and 
 dependent on me for all home love ; and Antoine 
 dying — dying," she repeated, with a sob, " and need- 
 ing care and tenderness, which only I can give. 
 Where does my duty lie ? " 
 
 And yet the Eight is not a complicated question, 
 though it sometimes seems so. Sometimes it simpli- 
 fies it, if we put it as applying to otliers instead of 
 to ourselves. But to Emilie Desprez no such anal- 
 ysis was possible. This was one duty, that was 
 another; now they seemed to balance, and only her 
 ow^n heart gave the final additional weight, and that 
 must be feared, because self-gratification was not in 
 her nature. 
 
 Morbid questionings do not tend to settle tliese 
 vexed points, but how teach a narrow, circumscribed.
 
 INGELHEIM. 231 
 
 loving woman that to please two opposite natures 
 is not possible, that to displease one necessitates 
 strife, and that honest strife is sometimes praise- 
 worthy and necessary ; and that a battle fairly 
 fonght will often settle more than all the subtle 
 diplomacy of the wisest.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 "Ernst ist das Leben." 
 
 There wanted but a few clays to Christmas, and the 
 little town of Ingelheim was busy preparing for it ; 
 the long dull autumn, with its constant unaccustomed 
 rain, had given place, first to a snowstorm, which 
 had been followed by days and nights of frost, which 
 as yet showed no signs of departure. Day after day 
 the sun rose and ran his short course through a 
 cloudless sky, the bare branches of the trees hung 
 down motionless under the heavy weight of snow. 
 To the young and strong and healthy there was 
 constant exhilaration and excitement in the sleigh- 
 ino- and skatino,'. 
 
 To Dolores it was entrance into a new life, for 
 Miss Shore had been faithful to her promise, and 
 had sent for her several times to the Palace, and 
 when the frost set in, she had taken her out on the 
 frozen lake, and had insisted on her learning to skate. 
 Nervous and shy, the girl would have refused, but 
 there was no refusing Miss Shore. Her objections 
 were set aside, and before she had fully realised what
 
 IXGELHEIM. 266 
 
 she was doing, she was standing very unsteadily 
 upon a pair of skates, clasping Virginia's hand in one 
 of hers, and with the other clinging with the energy 
 of despair to Jerome. 
 
 " Jerome, you are so good-natured, you will teach 
 her, I am sure," Virginia said. " Come, it is a shame 
 she should not learn, and enjoy herself." 
 
 So Dolores's soft refusals were thrust aside, and in 
 a very short time she was herself surprised to find 
 how safe and happy she felt. 
 
 Captain Shore was a good teacher, and good- 
 natured, as his sister said. He perceived the ner- 
 vousness and shyness more clearly than his sister did, 
 or perhaps only understood them better. 
 
 He took her away to a far-off, secluded spot, where 
 there were fewer amused observers, and less danger 
 of alarming collisions, and honestly set to work to 
 teach her. 
 
 And teaching under some circumstances is not 
 displeasing work. 
 
 When the pupil has only one wish — to learn, and 
 only one thought — to express gratitude for tlie trouble 
 the teacher is takino-. 
 
 o 
 
 Emilie alone disapproved. She was a graceful 
 skater herself; but when Miss Shore's invitations 
 came, wliich of course included her, she made some 
 fidtering objections to her father, her eyes the while 
 avoidiui^' those which she knew, did she but turn her 
 liead, would meet her own. But M. Desprez pooh- 
 poohed her words.
 
 234 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " Of course, go ;" he was just leaving the room, but 
 turned back when liis daughter spoke. " Such lovely 
 weather ! And the frost is not likely to last, make 
 the most of it. And Dolores," touching her head 
 lightly, " is such a good hard - working little pupil 
 that she deserves a holiday." 
 
 " Yes, yes," Emilie spoke dubiously, " but— — " 
 
 " No buts," M. Desprez laughed ; " you don't know 
 any, do you, Dolly ? " and at his words Dolores gave 
 a sigh of relief, of which Emilie was well aware. 
 
 " Of course it is but natural," she said to herself. 
 " It is fun, pleasure, amusement, just what all girls, 
 all young people want — and she is only sixteen," but 
 her own words did not calm her disquietude. 
 
 There had been a week now — one week of such 
 pleasure, such happiness, that all Dolores's short life 
 was coloured by it. The row of photographs looked 
 at her reproachfully she imagined, so utterly had 
 they at present sunk below the horizon. 
 
 She was for the moment idle, — lier morning lesson 
 was over. M. Desprez had announced himself well 
 pleased, had foretold her future in glowing colours as 
 he smoked a cigarette, and now she was standing at 
 the window, watching, she scarcely knew for what — 
 but for some sigjn, some messenger, which should 
 foretell what the afternoon should be. 
 
 As she watched, there was the jingling of bells, 
 and down the empty road appeared a sleigh. The 
 bright harness flashed in tlie sunshine, the ponies 
 tossed their heads, setting all the bells ringing, as
 
 INGELHEIM. 235 
 
 they stopped at tlie door, and Miss Shore herself 
 stepped out, and up the snowy path. 
 
 But before she had time to ring, tlie door was 
 opened, and Dolores stood awaiting her. 
 
 " Yes, it is you I want," she said. " Will you 
 come ? yes, I see you will. AYe are going to Ehren- 
 berg. I have come to see M. Desprez, for fear he 
 should say 'No' in a letter." 
 
 " Oh, you are (joocl, good,'' Dolores cried, emphati- 
 cally. " He is in his study," leading the way down 
 a dark passage. "Here," pausing at the door — 
 " here it is. Beg for me," she added, pleadingly, and 
 Yirginia nodded, then knocked, and at the loud 
 " Come in," entered M. Desprez's sanctum. 
 
 It was not very hard to persuade him at any time, 
 and under these circumstances, Miss Shore had very 
 little doubt of success. 
 
 " We will take all care of her," she said. " It will 
 amuse her — only my brother and I are going, and a 
 friend of his. We shall drive to Ehrenberg, and be 
 back by the time it is dark. Lady Ellesmere w^ill be 
 very glad to see the child, and I know the drive 
 would please her." 
 
 " You are very kind," M. Desprez replied, " I 
 have not the slightest doubt that Dolores will be 
 delighted." 
 
 He wondered for half a minute what might be her 
 object, and then answered the question himself — 
 " Chaperonage." 
 
 Miss Shore was not a crreat favourite with other
 
 236 INGELHEIM. 
 
 ladies ; it might not have been easy to find a suitable 
 one to accompany her on sucli a drive. " A friend 
 of my brother's " — that might mean anything. But 
 with M. Desprez curiosity, especially about outsiders, 
 was the most trivial and passing emotion, — scarcely 
 worthy, indeed, of such a definition. It had vanished 
 again immediately, and he was gladly assuring his 
 visitor of the pleasure she was affording, beaming 
 refiectively himself at the thought of the day's 
 amusement for Dolores. It was just the atmosphere 
 he delighted in. To feel light-hearted and cheerful 
 himself, with the consciousness that every one else 
 was happy also — that the sun was shining royally 
 on all. 
 
 He went himself to find Dolores, and tell her of 
 her good luck ; but away from the fascination of 
 Miss Shore's smiles, he was aware of a slight cloud 
 in the sunshine, at the feeling that Emilie would not 
 approve. Why ? he did not stop to wonder ; but 
 for some reason, probably an unimportant one — 
 there was no use after all in worrying over it. 
 
 He shruo'sjed his shoulders at the thoudit that it 
 was too late now, and called, " Dolores, Dolores ! " 
 
 She was by his side in a moment, eager expec- 
 tancy in her face. 
 
 " Yes, you can go," he said, kindly, subtly pleased 
 at the improvement in her appearance when her 
 cheeks were flushed and her eyes excited. " You are 
 such a good child," he said, " that it is a pleasure 
 to give you pleasure."
 
 INGELHEIM. 237 
 
 Dolores was conscious of tears in ber eyes as she 
 ran up to her room. They were all so good to her. 
 
 The photographs certainly looked at her reproach- 
 fully. Yes, they had l)een very good ; it was not 
 that she was ungrateful, but it was the warm demon- 
 strative affection that she found so novel and so 
 charming;. 
 
 No, Emilie did not approve : she would not, or 
 could not, say why ; but she feared for this loving, 
 tender-hearted child, thrust into a society, of which, 
 in her three-and-twenty years, she had had oppor- 
 tunity to know the coldness and falseness ; but she 
 was not one to damp the girl's pleasure, wdien to 
 prevent it was impossible. She came up to help 
 her, directly she had learnt how matters stood. 
 
 The best frock was growing a little shabby. It 
 had been in such constant requisition of late, even 
 those skating-lessons had' necessitated its appearance, 
 that Emilie's thoughts and words were chiefly as to 
 how it should be replaced. 
 
 "And you must have a warmer coat, Dolly. 
 To-day," after a moment's thought, "yes, you shall 
 wear mine — it will be very cold coming back." 
 
 It required a little persuasion to make Dolores 
 realise this necessity, but Emilie was determined, and 
 she smiled, as her father had done, as she noted the 
 pretty colour in her cheeks, and how^ becoming was 
 the rich dark fur about her throat. 
 
 " Slie is growing quite pretty," her father said 
 complacently, as he stood by her side watching the
 
 238 INGELHEIM. 
 
 start. " Dress her up a little, and let her be a little 
 excited, and she will pass quite for a beauty — on the 
 stase. I'll tell you what, Emilie," with a sudden 
 after- thought, " I shall get her a coat like yours with 
 a dark fur collar for a Christmas present. I never 
 saw anything more becoming." 
 
 The kind thought pleased Emilie. 
 
 " He is always so kind," she thought as she left 
 
 him. It was a relief to think of that instead of 
 
 " What was she really afraid of ? " she wondered. It 
 was a shadowy trouble, so indistinct and faint, that 
 she could not face it fairly, but it hovered in some 
 indistinct fasliion about Jerome Shore. 
 
 And yet it is to be doubted if she could have 
 explored all the innocent hiding-places in Dolores's 
 heart, whether she would have found as much feeling 
 for the brother as there was for this slender graceful 
 woman, by whose side she -was now driving through 
 the keen frosty air ; this woman with the delicate 
 face, clear-cut and cold as a cameo, in its setting of 
 sapphire-blue velvet and rich sables. It was at this 
 shrine she worshipped, admiring her beauty, listen- 
 inc: to her talk. This was the dream-life in which 
 she was living, and that this woman, so far above 
 and beyond her, should have permitted the worsliip 
 was in itself a daily miracle. 
 
 And Virginia enjoyed it. 
 
 M. Desprez was quite wrong in his interpretation 
 of her motives. It was for her own pleasure she 
 had brought the girl to-day, it was her companion-
 
 INGELHEIM. 239 
 
 ship she had wished. She had a motive in the visit 
 but that was another matter, and bore little refer- 
 ence to the drive itself. 
 
 Jerome was not quite ready yet to think of it for 
 himself, but his sister fully realised for him that 
 shortly, with his good looks, good position, and good 
 birth, matrimony miglit be a great help to him in his 
 career. Matrimony, that is, of a suitable kind. To- 
 day's visit bore reference to that coming time. Not 
 anything distinct as yet, but handsome, well-born, 
 rich girls are not always to be found at convenient 
 moments, and therefore to be made much of when 
 found. Jerome w^as one of those who would be 
 most likely to drift into any line that was arranged 
 by clearer-sighted vision, and Virginia had his well- 
 being at heart. She knew, or fancied she knew, 
 wdiat he needed, and no trouble would have been too 
 great to accomplish her ends. He was not always to 
 be secured when the suitable moment had come, and 
 therefore, when he himself suggested the drive and 
 wondered where they should go, and she suggested 
 the visit, and he only doubted, and did not say 
 " Xo," she seized the opportunity, and shortly had 
 made it all possible. 
 
 " Count Fernhof will go with you, I am sure," she 
 said, " he is a great friend of the Ellesmeres." 
 
 It was as well, all things considered, they should 
 not go alone. " And I will take Dolores." 
 
 " Yes, tliat is a good idea ; only I don't think the 
 Desprez will allow it."
 
 240 INGELHEIRr. 
 
 " Ob, I will persuade them," Virginia aiiswerecl, 
 lightly, " M. Desprez is not adamant. I will go at 
 once, and will drive her out, and meet you there — 
 we can change partners for the drive home," she 
 added, " so be sure and take Count Fernhof. I don't 
 care about any of the others." 
 
 " All right," Jerome nodded. He had no doubt 
 it would be " all right." Fernhof was infatuated 
 enough, and it really did not seem unlikely that 
 Virginia 
 
 Brothers are not proverbially keen-sighted, and, 
 besides, he had secured what he wanted. It would 
 be delightful to introduce little unsophisticated 
 Dolores to the charms of a slei2;h - drive, nor was 
 the visit itself likely to be dull. Miss Ellesmere 
 was always amusing enough. 
 
 Yes ; this was exactly what A^irginia had foreseen 
 and counted upon, — the long drive through the keen 
 frosty air, which was in itself a tonic to her nerves 
 and spirits, a physical pleasure and an excitement 
 which alone were a delight ; the presence, quiet, but 
 appreciative and adoring, of little Dolores ; the 
 arrival at the grand old house, at present occupied 
 by these distant relations of her father's, widowed 
 Lady Ellesmere and her handsome daughter. 
 
 The two young men had already arrived, and, im- 
 mediately after, there were explorations of the old 
 haunted house with its picture-galleries and wonder- 
 ful views, all to be seen and commented upon, just 
 in the order that Virginia had prearranged.
 
 INGELHEIM. 241 
 
 Count Fernhof, in that infatuated state of boyish 
 admiration that to walk by her side and listen to 
 her remarks was all he cared for ; whilst Frances 
 Ellesmere, a type of English beauty, in those days 
 little known in such quiet out-of-the-way places as 
 Ingelheim, was ready to devote herself to Jerome, 
 and amuse him with her vivacity and quickness, 
 which had a touch of "smartness" that accented her 
 every sentence, and gave her somewhat of the charm 
 of a rough but amusing schoolboy. And Dolores ? 
 This also had been foreseen. That she would suit 
 her young steps to stout old Lady Ellesmere's slow 
 movements, — would listen to her stories about Ger- 
 man servants and doctors, and the sad necessities 
 which had driven her here to be near one of that 
 useful class, the only one who had really understood 
 her case; and her sighs and pants very soon suggested 
 to Dolores that it would be better they should return 
 to the drawinsj-room, and sit still there, a suooestion 
 in which Lady Ellesmere gladly acquiesced. 
 
 " Take off your cloak, dear, — you are sure you don't 
 mind. There is nothing to see, and it is terribly 
 draughty in those long cold passages. AVe are much 
 better here," with a complacent smile, as she drew 
 her arm-chair closer to the open fire, behind the shel- 
 ter of a high screen, — "now we can talk comfortably. 
 You can tell me all about yourself," which really 
 meant listening to all Lady Ellesmere had to say 
 about herself and her symptoms, and Frances also. 
 
 There was a great deal to say about her daughter. 
 VOL, I. Q
 
 242 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " I don't like her manners," Lady Ellesmere sighed 
 in confidential pants, " but I am old, and the world 
 changes : it is the kind of manner that gentlemen 
 like, for she is very popular ; I never saw a girl so 
 much run after." 
 
 And Dolores listened and nodded — words were 
 not necessary — and now and then peeped round the 
 corner of the screen, when Lady Ellesmere's quick 
 eyes were turned to the fire, — and was guiltily aware 
 that her thoughts kept wandering, and that her ears 
 were strained to hear the sounds of footsteps, which 
 still gave no sign of returning. 
 
 But at last — well, at last patience always is re- 
 warded, if it is enduring enough ; only it has a way 
 with some people of prolonging the endurance until 
 the reward has ceased to be attractive, — at last there 
 were sounds of laughter and cheerful voices. Yes; 
 those were Virginia's clear notes and Captain Fern- 
 hof's slow tones, and that was undoubtedly Miss 
 Ellesmere's quick retort. Now the door was opened, 
 and though still invisible, they were evidently in the 
 room. 
 
 " Mother," Miss Ellesmere called, " where are 
 you ? " 
 
 " Oh, my dear," her mother shivered in reply, " do 
 shut the door. Such a draught, and we were just 
 getting so warm and comfortable." 
 
 " Warm and comfortable," echoed Miss Ellesmere, 
 appearing round the screen. '' Why, Miss Traherne 
 is just as red as a hot coal. I am sure she did
 
 INGELHETM. 243 
 
 not choose this corner — did you ? " turning to the 
 girl. 
 
 If she had not been red before, there was no 
 doubt of it now, as, conscious -of all the eyes turned 
 upon her, and of Lady EUesmere's faltering apology, 
 Dolores strove to unite politeness with truth. 
 
 " I will take Miss Traherne up to the top of the 
 flag- tower," Captain Shore quietly observed, " and 
 then she will sigh to be brought back to the fire. 
 Come," he said, kindly, "put on your cloak, and 
 I will show you all there is to be seen." 
 
 " Xo, I will take her," Miss Ellesmere said. She 
 was a small-featured girl, with a close-cropped curly 
 head and quick brown eyes, a bright colour, and so 
 much that constitutes prettiness, that it was easy to 
 forget the irregularity of her features. 
 
 There had certainly been a shade of eagerness in 
 her voice, but then she had an eager impetuous way 
 of speaking, and the next words were entirely with- 
 out it. 
 
 " A woman is a far better cicerone than a man ; 
 probably you have already forgotten the story of 
 the haunted gallery ? " 
 
 " Forgotten it ! why it is engraven on my heart. 
 The lady with a dagger in one hand and lier own 
 head in the other ; or, was that the occupant of the 
 white chamber, and was it the priest with one red 
 arm ? You see, if a little muddled as to their where- 
 abouts, I am quite correct as to my facts. "Will you 
 trust yourself to me. Miss Traherne, and run the
 
 244 INGELHKIM. 
 
 risk of mistaking the especial prowl of the especial 
 ohject ? " 
 
 He was standing np, evidently awaiting her, so 
 was Miss Ellesmere, and if he was unobservant of 
 her attitude, it had not escaped Virginia's eyes, and 
 Dolores herself was painfully aware that it was not 
 wished by Miss Ellesmere that she should go. 
 
 It was difficult for her to know what to do ; it 
 seemed impossible to say " No," to invent an excuse 
 never occurred to her ; besides, her happy eyes would 
 have made it difficult of belief, and those who might 
 have told her what to do, held their peace. 
 
 "Virginia, talking a little apart to Count Fernhof, 
 was amusedly watching the little scene, wondering 
 if it was the forerunner of awakening jealousy, and 
 Lady Ellesmere, sighing and shivering alternately, 
 kept her eyes fixed on her daughter, some ques- 
 tion in tliem not to be read by the uninitiated, but 
 wliich Virginia deciphered to be an inexpert signal 
 asking what she wished done. 
 
 It all took place in a minute, whilst Dolores stood 
 reddening and paling in nervous anxiety ; but as 
 generally occurs when a man wishes a thing suffi- 
 ciently to exert himself to accomplish it, it is done 
 his way. 
 
 Ignoring Miss EUesmere's words and looks, except 
 by a passing reference to the fact that once to the 
 top of the flag-tower was quite enough for her, he 
 took np Emilie's fur mantle, and wrapping it about 
 Dolores moved towards the door.
 
 INGELHEIM. 245 
 
 " Come/' he said, and Dolores obediently followed. 
 " It is growing colder while we delay." 
 
 Miss Ellesinere said something about the way, 
 her voice following them with explanations, and 
 even Lady Ellesmere roused herself to urge they 
 should not stay long. 
 
 " The view is the chief thing," she said, " and 
 the picture-gallery, but after that, come back here : 
 coffee will be ready, and I am sure you will be 
 cold enough to need it." 
 
 With his hand on the lock. Captain Shore 
 promised and agreed, but at the first break in 
 the conversation he closed it — "Because of the 
 draught," he said, in a low" voice, to Dolores — 
 " and because of the advice," he added, and smiled, 
 "which I don't mean to follow." 
 
 Dolores laughed too, but nervously. 
 
 " They did not want me to go," she began ; " I did 
 not know what I ouqht to do." 
 
 " You did quite right," he replied. " To be obedi- 
 ent is the first duty of children, so I heard his 
 Excellency say one day, or something like it, and 
 his opinion is, as you know, final. 
 
 " Now that we have shut all the good advice and 
 the directions for guidance in there, I will tell you 
 that I have but the faintest ideas of the geography 
 of the place. This is the picture-gallery, I know ; 
 but after that there will be all the excitement of 
 exploring." 
 
 He opened, as he spoke, two great folding- doors.
 
 246 INGELHEIM. 
 
 and they entered into a long oak-floored picture- 
 gallery. 
 
 " These works of art require much explanation, 
 which I am unprepared to give, and besides, it is 
 growing rather dark, so I think we will just say 
 ' How do you do ? ' to these ill-favoured gentlemen 
 and ladies, and hurry through, in the hope of finding 
 something more lively." 
 
 " They are beautiful, I think," Dolores said, 
 simply. 
 
 She looked around with delight, pausing con- 
 stantly before one or other of the portraits. She 
 preferred the portraits, or perhaps understood them 
 better. 
 
 The little serious children, with their quaint old- 
 fashioned garments ; the grand ladies, gorgeous in 
 brocade and jewels ; the men, in powder and velvet 
 coats, or standing in vivid brilliant uniform, sword 
 in hand, whilst a battle raged in the background, of 
 which they were apparently unconscious. 
 
 Captain Shore found it almost impossible to hurry 
 her, but at last they had reached the further end, 
 and were facing companion doors to those by which 
 they had entered. They were locked, but he un- 
 turned the key, and they passed through them, 
 finding themselves directly on a narrow dark stair- 
 case. 
 
 " This is a different way," he said ; " we are explor- 
 ing already. This stair, I believe, leads up to the 
 flag-tower, — at any rate we will risk it."
 
 INGELHEIM. 247 
 
 It was very dark, — a tliglit below there was a 
 small square entry or landing, dimly lighted by a 
 coloured window, — except for that, total darkness. 
 
 "It must lead somewhere," Captain Shore said, 
 encouragingly ; " it would be ignominious to go back 
 and take the scorned advice, would it not ? Let me 
 go first." 
 
 It was a very narrow, very steep, winding stair. 
 As they went on, Dolores was aware that it was 
 giddy work climbing like this. She panted a little, 
 it was breathless work also, and besides there was 
 something uncanny in the darkness, which increased 
 as they went on. 
 
 '•' I should think the priest or the lady must live 
 here." 
 
 He had not spoken for a minute, and after this 
 observation, he hurried on a turn or two : this was 
 evidently not the accustomed way ; it might be as 
 well to see if the door at the top were locked, 
 when her voice from below reached him, " Captain 
 Shore ! " 
 
 " Yes," he paused and called back. 
 
 " Is it much further ? " 
 
 Something in the tones told him how her heart 
 was beating, how she was hurrying after him, and 
 he checked the laughing reply that had risen to his 
 lips, and as quickly as possible he was back by her 
 side, holding out his hand, scarcely visible in the 
 gloom. 
 
 " Take my hand," he said, quietly ; " it is horrid.
 
 248 INGELHEIM. 
 
 isn't it ? I shall never want to explore again, and 
 if it was not for pride, I should go straight back, and 
 ask Miss Ellesmere to show us the way. But that 
 would never do, when we are so nearly at the top, 
 would it ? " 
 
 Her small trembling hand was in his; he held 
 it in a firm clasp, and the momentary nervousness 
 vanished under the consciousness of his presence 
 and the sound of his voice. Dolores laughed a little 
 at the previous fear. They were at the top now, 
 and the door was locked, as he had guessed — he 
 lit a match, only to discover there was no key. 
 
 He gave a sigh of comic despair. " Some people 
 are not born under a lucky star, — and I am one of 
 them. Now we must go all the way back to the 
 picture-gallery and start afresh. Don't you think 
 that will be best ? " 
 
 "Yes, by far the best." 
 
 "Miss Traherne, I am sure you are laughing. I 
 must make certain." He took out the little box, 
 and struck another match, and in the swift fiame 
 saw illumined in the darkness the soft eyes under 
 their straight brows, the smile — there was no doubt 
 about it — round the young fresh mouth. He looked 
 a moment, it was a very sweet picture to have con- 
 jured up out of the darkness, and then he threw the 
 match upon the ground and stamped it out in silence. 
 In silence, too, he took her hand and began the 
 descent. 
 
 But a minute later, " Tell me if you feel giddy,"
 
 INGELHEIM. 249 
 
 he said, " Some people do, going down steep stairs, 
 and then we will stop and rest." 
 
 " Ko, I am not giddy," she answered, as she de- 
 scended just a step behind him. She was so close he 
 could hear the little quick breath she gave, and then 
 a pause, and he knew that she blushed before con- 
 tinuing : " AYhen we were going up — it was very 
 silly — but I was frightened." 
 
 " There was not much to be friglitened at, was 
 there ? " he said, quietly — the more quietly because 
 he was aware his own heart was beating a little 
 quicker, and because of that slight hand that rested 
 so trustingly in his, the voice that spoke so con- 
 fidingly. 
 
 " It was the lady with the dagger," he said, and 
 laughed — " yes, I am sure you thought you were 
 going to be one of those lucky beings to whom she 
 exhibits herself." 
 
 " But I should not like it." 
 
 " Well, there's no fear," he said, reassuringly, " be- 
 cause she never appears where there is a witness. 
 There, take care, that is the last step. jSTow we have 
 to decide afresh." 
 
 " I am so glad to be back in the light," Dolores 
 said, in a tone of gratitude, and she sighed, an 
 unmistakable sigh of relief. 
 
 The sigh was echoed as Captain Shore turned 
 towards the coloured window. He also was lilad to 
 be back, even in such dubious light as this. 
 
 By the window there was a door, dimly enough
 
 250 INGELHEIM. 
 
 outlined in this vague twilight ; but, on closer exam- 
 ination, it proved to be a stout oak door, orna- 
 mented with iron nails and knobs, in a way that 
 suggested bygone dangers ; but there was a key in 
 this lock — it did not even need turning, for, as Cap- 
 tain Shore laid his hand on it, at the slight push it 
 swung heavily open on its massive hinges, and they 
 found themselves on the threshold of a low^-ceiled, 
 old-fashioned room, well-lighted with the cheerful 
 glow from an open fireplace. 
 
 It was such a delightful change from the gloom 
 and darkness outside into this warm atmosphere, 
 that without a moment's hesitation they entered. 
 Entering, Captain Shore at least realised where he 
 was — they were approaching the little chapel. This 
 was the priest's room, or had been in the days of 
 the master of the house; a few steps would now 
 take them back to familiar ground. The room was 
 untenanted, they could pass through it. 
 
 But almost as the idea passed through his mind, 
 he was aware that in the great oak chair drawn up 
 to the fire was seated a man. He had his back to 
 them, he was gazing into the flames, so wrapped in 
 his own thoughts that he was quite unaware of tlieir 
 approach. It would even be possible to turn and 
 withdraw in silence without attracting his attention, 
 but that did not seem right. It would be more 
 polite to offer some apology for their intrusion. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he began in German, and as 
 he spoke, was aware of watching with swift rising
 
 INGELHEIM. 251 
 
 uneasiness the outline of the smooth dark head 
 against the glow of firelight ; but before the uneasi- 
 ness had taken distinct form, there was no further 
 room left for doubt. At the sound of his voice there 
 was a hurried movement, a startled repetition of his 
 name, and he stood face to face with Prince Lescynski. 
 
 " You ! " Captain Shore said, Avonderingly, advanc- 
 ing a step nearer, " what are you doing here ? " 
 
 " I am staying here," Dorislaus answered in Ger- 
 man, with a glance towards where Dolores stood in 
 the background, frank curiosity in her eyes, "but 
 for many reasons I thought it best that you should 
 not know it, so I asked Miss Ellesmere not to 
 mention it." 
 
 " She was faithful to your wish, wdiich I think 
 was a very foolish one. It was entirely my fault 
 that I found my way here. I was showing Miss 
 Traherne over the house, and we have lost our way." 
 
 He, too, remembered his little companion then, 
 and turned towards her. For the moment he had 
 quite forgotten her, but turning his head now, he 
 recognised at once how uncomfortable she felt at her 
 inopportune presence, and returned to her side to 
 convince her that her fear was unnecessary. 
 
 '•' Miss Traherne and I are friends," he said, 
 " though w^e have not known each other very long ; 
 and if you wish your visit here not to be known in 
 Ingelheim, it is a secret with which you may safely 
 trust her." 
 
 She smiled at the words, and looked from one
 
 252 INGELHEIM. 
 
 to the other, as if to see whether Captam Shore's 
 confidence were shared. The stranger's dark eyes 
 sought hers, as if to discover for himself if she were 
 trustworthy ; but when their eyes met, " Yes," he 
 said quickly, in English, " mademoiselle will not 
 betray me, even though she cannot understand why 
 there should be a mystery about such a trifle. As 
 you are here. Shore, you will stay and speak to 
 me; there is much you can tell. I do not wish 
 Miss Shore to know I am here," he added, after a 
 pause. 
 
 " No one, not even Virginia, shall know it from 
 us," Jerome answered, with a glance which included 
 Dolores in the promise. " It is our secret." 
 
 Having so spoken, they turned to the fireplace, 
 and Dorislaus began some hurried questions. 
 
 " Captain Shore," Dolores said, in awkward con- 
 strained tones, " may I go to the picture - gallery 
 and wait there for you ? " 
 
 Poor child, he was sorry for her embarrassment ; 
 it was very uncomfortable for her, but to send her 
 away would certainly not be safe. At any moment 
 Virginia might come in search of them, and the 
 picture-gallery was the first place to which she 
 would go. 
 
 But there was so much to say, to hear, and it was 
 so delightful to be with his friend again, and perliaps 
 learn the hopes or the reason that had brought 
 him there; and it was all so impossible to discuss 
 with any third person present, that there was a
 
 INGELHEIM. 253 
 
 sliglit tinge of regret as he admitted the iiifeasibility 
 of the idea. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, would you mind waiting for ten 
 minutes in the chapel ? " This was Prince Lescynski's 
 proposition. " We can lock this door," he explained, 
 "and we are then free from interruption," and 
 Dolores, only too glad to see any way of escape 
 from the awkward consciousness of being an un- 
 desired third, gladly complied. 
 
 He opened the door and stood aside for her to 
 pass out, and then walked by her side through a 
 dark gloomy stone passage which led into a small 
 chapel. 
 
 The cold wintry sunshine was stealing in through 
 a gorgeously coloured window, throwing faint 
 shadowy reflections of its brilliance on to the white 
 stone pillars and dark oak carvings. It was a relief 
 from the previous darkness, and Dolores, still a 
 little excited from her previous experiences, was 
 glad that so it should be. 
 
 " I do not like banishing you from the fire," he 
 said, with grave courtesy ; " but you look kind and 
 good, and I am sure will believe that if I saw any 
 other possible way of speaking to Captain Shore, 
 I should not adopt this one. It is important," he 
 went on, " that no one in Ingelheim should know 
 that I am here, so I denied myself the pleasure of 
 seeing Jerome, my greatest friend; the Fates, you 
 see, have willed it otherwise, but you will understand 
 the importance of silence. And patience, I am
 
 254 INGELHEIM. 
 
 afraid," he added, as lie turned away, " but we 
 shall return very shortly." 
 
 He thought of her for a moment after closing the 
 chapel door, cA^en as Captain Shore was thinking 
 also, both with something of the same regret that 
 the banishment appeared necessary, and then a 
 minute later she was entirely forgotten, even as 
 the shadowy regret she had inspired, as they stood 
 side by side in the low firelit room. 
 
 *' Only a quarter of an hour," Jerome said, taking 
 out his w^atch and placing it on a table as a reminder. 
 " They will give us so much law, and then they 
 will set oft' in pursuit ; but perhaps by that time 
 you will have decided that secrecy is a mistake." 
 
 " No, Jerome ; I have not accepted it thoughtlessly, 
 and so I tell you first that I have nothing to say 
 about myself. It is better, I mean, that you should 
 know nothing, where I am, or what I am doing." 
 
 " You are not contemplating committing fresh 
 unconventionalities, I hope." 
 
 Dorislaus smiled. " No, your mind may be at 
 rest. At present I am contemplating nothing." 
 
 " Safe— and dull." 
 
 " I feel dull," the other man assented. 
 
 " I am sorry," Jerome answered. " I like violent, 
 excitable people — I suppose because they provide 
 what I am unpossessed of. But I daresay," he 
 added, "it is much railway travelling that is to 
 blame ; you will probably return to your former 
 state after a little rest."
 
 INGELHEIM. 255 
 
 " Xo, never ! " Dorislaus spoke passionately, " the 
 most violent nature wears itself out in time, — on 
 that supposition, I am worn out 1 Tell me," lean- 
 ing a little nearer, " what is going on over there ? 
 What are you doing ? " 
 
 " Masked balls, Christmas gaieties, a new operetta 
 of Desprez, everything that is possible to banish 
 thought." 
 
 " And " Prince Lescynski paused. 
 
 " And do we succeed, you wish to ask ? AVell, 
 God knows, Dorislaus ! I don't. I suppose," he added 
 bitterly, as the other made no comment, did not lift 
 his eyes from the blaze, — " I suppose coronets and 
 honour and rank provide a certain amount of satis- 
 faction, at least sufficient to enable their possessors 
 to live very comfortably without any other sort." 
 
 " It is not like you, Jerome, to be bitter." 
 
 " It is an individual case that is causing it, if it 
 be so, and probably I am a type of the rest of the 
 world," he answered, shortly. " Women," with that 
 large comprehension of the whole sex caused by the 
 shortcomings of one member of it ; " women are 
 not worth the sacrifice of a man's career, when the 
 rubbishing et-ceteras of rank are weighed, and prove 
 heavier than his devotion." 
 
 " I cannot argue," Dorislaus said, gently. It was 
 Jerome who spoke hotly and angrily now. " AYe 
 do not think alike on this subject ; it would be 
 difficult for me to express in words what I feel. 
 I have fouLiht through a liood deal since I saw you
 
 256 INGELIIELM. 
 
 last. jMarriage is so much in a woman's life," he 
 added, abruptly, " that it must mean all or nothing. 
 They are seldom strong enough to make much of 
 their lives apart from circumstance." 
 
 He turned away as he spoke, and paced up and 
 down the length of the lonq- room. 
 
 He was changed, Jerome realised — changed since 
 that last despairing night when they had parted ; 
 it angered him to recomiise it — an^'ered him ten- 
 fold when he thought of the woman to whom the 
 change was due. The masks and revels and gay 
 doings out yonder, and this man eating his heart 
 out in solitude and grief — and it had been her 
 fault. She had encouraged him, and smiled at his 
 passion until it had grown unmanageable, and then 
 — had bid him begone when the hour of explana- 
 tion had arrived. His thoughts roused him to 
 unwonted anger. " Coquette," he thought, angrily. 
 " Coquettes always," he said aloud, " and when 
 they are asked to take the consequences, cowards 
 in addition." 
 
 Dorislaus smiled at his vehemence, and returned 
 to his side in the fireglow, — and at the smile, the 
 little puff of anger died away, and there arose a 
 swift vision of the girlisli face that had appeared 
 for a moment out of the darkness, the tender in- 
 nocent eyes, the fresh smiling mouth, again in his 
 own he felt the slight clasp of confiding fingers : 
 it was a reproachful answer to his words, which, 
 after all, were perhaps of narrow application. There
 
 INGELHEIM. 257 
 
 were girls, ay, and women also, who would never 
 give a false word or look — women with whom no 
 weighing was possible, who were willing to give their 
 love, themselves, their all, not even pausing to note 
 what had been tossed into the other scale, — into 
 such a woman little Dolores would grow. 
 
 *•' You must go," Dorislaus said, — " I must not 
 keep you, and besides, that poor little girl will be 
 frozen down there alone." 
 
 "Yes, I must fetch her." 
 
 Jerome s^^oke, rapidly moving towards the door 
 with a feeling of penitence, for it had suddenly 
 flashed across his mind that perhaps the loneliness 
 of the chapel might be almost as disagreeable to 
 her as had been the ascent to the tower, and he 
 felt that they had, after all, rather sacrificed her 
 to their own convenience. 
 
 " But I shall return," he said ; " no, there is no use 
 refusing — I shall come without fail on Christmas 
 Day, and stay with you for some time." Prince 
 Lescynski's refusal was weak. After all, what did 
 it matter ! it was only Miss Shore's knowledge of his 
 presence here that he instinctively shrank from. 
 
 " Yes, come back, Jerome," he said ; " I shall look 
 forward to seeing you." 
 
 Left in the chapel, Dolores had felt a certain regret 
 when the door had closed and she found herself alone. 
 It was childish and silly, she knew, but she trusted 
 her imprisonment would not last for very long. It was 
 a beautiful little building ; and ignorant as she was, 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 INGELHEIM. 
 
 she recoguised the perfection of the slender pillars, 
 the giorions varied lights that were shining in vivid 
 purples and crimsons through the western window 
 on to the figure of the warrior, whose crossed feet in- 
 dicated he had taken the journey to the Holy Land. 
 
 Dolores stood long by the reclining Crusader, there 
 was something attractive in the quiet mailed figure, 
 — underneath were carved some half-effaced words 
 in Latin, which she could not understand, and which 
 were to this effect, "Life is a sturdy foe." But 
 here now he was conquered, and the conqueror was 
 at rest. 
 
 By his side, glorified by the same rich light, was 
 another tomb, — this one very white and new com- 
 pared with the battered discoloured marble of the 
 other. It dated only from ten years back, and was 
 full of the pathos of recent sorrow. A white-veiled 
 woman, standing with folded wings, sad type of the 
 angel of Death, and holding one by either hand, two 
 little, eager, happy children, fading flowers in their 
 hands, thus sudden had been their call from the 
 meadows of life where they had been playing, — and 
 yet no reluctance in the swift obedience to the call ; 
 only confidence and trust, as they looked up to the 
 veiled face above. 
 
 " Aloys and Despard. Given to me the same day ; 
 called away three years later." 
 
 On to these words the glory fell, illumining these 
 little ones, who had never known the warfare, even 
 as on him who had fought it out.
 
 INGELHEIM. 259 
 
 The battl(3, for tliese babes had been within the 
 narrow space of their mother's heart; and Dolores 
 was glad when by-and-by in her wanderings she came 
 across a tablet let into the wall, which told that 
 ]\Iarie, Countess of Ehrenberg, slept here, aged 
 twenty -eight. She did not long survive her tw^o 
 sons, who were drowned in the lake. These words 
 Dolores made out with some difficulty, partly be- 
 cause her knowledge of German was not very fluent, 
 and partly because tliis stone was on the darker side 
 of the chapel. Above it drooped long tattered flags 
 and banners, their torn folds almost reaching to it. 
 All the glory was opposite, enveloping the battle- 
 wearied warrior and the young eager children ; here, 
 where rested the mother's broken heart, it was still 
 and dark, only the emblems of glory droop)ed above 
 her, the well-worn emblems, that had been carried on 
 many a well-fought field, had waved above many a 
 gallant soldier, had been wrapped about the dead, 
 and had found their last resting-place here, to wave 
 above the quiet spot where slept a desolate lonely 
 mother. 
 
 Something of this hung about the place, something 
 of tliis peopled the lonely spot with ghosts, and sent 
 Dolores now and again to the door to listen for 
 approaching footsteps, when the banners rustled 
 overhead, and the swiftly moving light passed 
 further along the walls. 
 
 As for the twentieth time she held open the door 
 and peered out into the gloom, there was a sound
 
 260 INGELHEIM. 
 
 above, the descent of rapid footsteps, and Jerome 
 Shore's grey eyes were looking anxiously towards 
 her, the notes of his voice also anxious as he spoke. 
 " I am afraid I have been a long time, — are you tired 
 of waiting ? What a horridly cold place ! " with a 
 slight shiver as he stepped inside, " I suppose no one 
 ever comes here now." 
 
 '' It is beautiful," Dolores said, simply, " but it is 
 lonely — I am glad you have come. I was listening 
 at the door," and she smiled a little, " hoping to hear 
 voices." 
 
 " It was very unkind," he asserted, and he felt a 
 prick of conscience at the remembrance of how 
 completely he had forgotten her. "AVell, now, let 
 us be off, and leave the cold and gloom behind." 
 
 '•' Tell me first, please, what this means ? " She 
 pointed as she spoke to the defaced words about 
 the tomb of the warrior. He knelt down in the 
 glow of rich light that fell througli the coloured 
 window, and strove to pick out the lettering, and 
 then explained as well as he could the meaning 
 of what he had deciphered, she standing beside him 
 the while ; the light falling across them all alike, 
 enriching the young eager life-tints of the man, 
 glorifying the calm repose of the resting soldier. 
 
 But it was not of the Crusader Jerome Shore 
 was thinking as they mounted the stone staircase, 
 the words of the quaint old inscription running in 
 his head, " Life is a sturdy foe ; " but of Dorislaus 
 Lescynski.
 
 INGELHEIM. 261 
 
 He spoke of the chapel to him at once, with this 
 thought ill his mind. 
 
 "Yes, I often go there, sometimes at night — 
 these moonlight nights the chapel is well worth a 
 visit. But you must not stay. Good-bye." 
 
 He took Dolores's hand in his, and smiled at 
 her in grave courteous fashion, then clasped 
 Jerome's in silence ; but when they had gone, and 
 the door was closed between them, he opened it 
 once again to say low and quickly, " Jerome, come 
 back — no, not now," and he smiled. " Another day, 
 I mean. I am not as changed as I hoped," he added, 
 " I suppose ; but at any rate, having seen you, and 
 knowing you are so near, I cannot resist begging 
 of you to return." 
 
 " Do not fear ; " — Jerome's hand rested on his 
 shoulder, — " I do not want you changed — to me," he 
 added ; " I shall return." 
 
 He was silent after that, silent whilst they walked 
 through the gallery, and when he opened the doors, 
 it was to find themselves face to face with the rest of 
 the party. Fanny Ellesmere a little in advance, and 
 behind her, sauntering slowly, pausing now and 
 again, the other couple. Miss Ellesmere's quick 
 eyes glanced from one to the other, while she uttered 
 some exclamation of surprise. 
 
 " Only seen this ! " she said. " Oh, you found the 
 door locked on that side, of course. That comes of 
 refusing an experienced guide, Captain Shore." 
 
 " You have seen him " she said in a lower tone.
 
 262 INGELHEIM. 
 
 moving further away. " Of course it is a folly, an 
 insanity, but he asked us not to tell you that he 
 was here." 
 
 "I am coming back to see him another clay," 
 Jerome answered. " I am humouring his follies," 
 smiling a little, " but I have promised not to tell 
 my sister." 
 
 " She is very observant and discerning," Miss 
 Ellesmere remarked, slowly, her eyes lifted to the 
 picture above her, " and Miss Traherne is not. I do 
 not think there will be any need for you to tell her 
 when you return home." 
 
 " Oh, Fernhof is going to drive Virginia home. 
 I have promised to take Miss Traherne with me." 
 
 " A much better plan," she said, brightly. " She 
 does not look expansive," she went on, glancing in 
 the direction of Dolores ; " I do not think she would 
 
 mean to be confidential, but Virginia is very " 
 
 she paused. 
 
 " Extractive," Jerome added, and they both 
 smiled. 
 
 "Wait here a few minutes," she said, "and I will 
 run and warn mother not to ask awkward questions, 
 or better still, employ the time in taking Miss 
 Traherne the right way up to the flag-tower. You 
 cannot mistake it now," pointing to the staircase, 
 " and I will go and order coffee." 
 
 Virginia's eyes had noted the little conversation, 
 — had been well aware of Miss EUesmere's anxiety 
 during tlie absence of the other two, the willingness
 
 IXGELHEIM. 263 
 
 with wliich she had accepted the proposition they 
 should start in pursuit. 
 
 Linj^erinGf on the staircase, listenincj to Count 
 Fernhofs remarks, commenting on them at the 
 right place, she had known quite well of the meeting 
 in the picture-gallery, the low sentences that had 
 followed, the way in which Dolores had been allowed 
 to move aside whilst the other two talked. 
 
 She smiled at Dolores as she passed her, and at 
 the smile Dolores flushed a little in proud pleasure, 
 and turning a backward look, she surprised from 
 her a oiance of lovingj admiration. 
 
 " You have won that little girl for a slave," Count 
 Fernhof said, watching also, there was something 
 attractive in the frank homage. 
 
 " She is in love with me," Virginia said, lightly. 
 
 *• There is not much cause for wonder in that," he 
 replied. 
 
 " That was the self-evident rejoinder," she said, 
 more coldly, " so I have only myself to blame for 
 laying myself open to it." 
 
 " And the evident rejoinder " he began — 
 
 " Is sure to be commonplace," she replied, quietly, 
 ^■' and that no one could desire."
 
 264 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Friendsliip begins witli liking or gratitude.' 
 
 It was very little later that they started on the home- 
 ward drive, but the sun had already set, the short 
 winter twilight was closing in. 
 
 "Jerome will drive you home," Miss Shore told 
 Dolores as they stood together on the steps. " Wrap 
 her up well," she added, turning to her brother ; " do 
 not let her catch cold, or I shall be blamed." 
 
 Dolores watched her as she settled herself down 
 in her corner, a beautiful woman, in her rich velvet 
 and furs, well calculated to awaken admiration in 
 older brains than those of a girl. Those of Count 
 Fernhof, for instance, — the admiration in his eyes 
 was almost as frank and nawe as he drew the sable 
 rug about his companion, and noted the harmonious 
 colouring. 
 
 Then they were off, and Jerome turned to Dolores. 
 To tell the truth, it was not of her he was thinking, 
 and when she was in the sleigh, and he saw that his 
 sister had disappeared, with a few words of apology 
 he re-entered the house.
 
 IXGELHEIM. 265 
 
 " Fanny ! " he called, opening the door, and as she 
 hurried towards him, " I have come back," he went 
 on, " to say I shall return here to-morrow, or the 
 next day — probably I shall come by train, or 
 perhaps ride." 
 
 "Let the w\ay depend on other people," she 
 replied, " but anyhow, come ; we shall be very glad 
 to see you. Stay and dine," she added. 
 
 " Thanks. Yes, very likely I will, but I want to 
 talk with him, and find out what he means to do." 
 
 He shook hands quickly, and hurried back to 
 where Dolores awaited him. 
 
 The little delay had made a difference; it was 
 now^ nearly dark, and he took the reins in silence, 
 and started quickly with a view to retrieve lost 
 time. 
 
 On his outward drive he had looked forward to 
 driving Dolores back, had been aware of pleasurable 
 anticipation, but now it was all forgotten. His 
 thoughts were entirely wdth Dorislaus, there was 
 scarcely any reality in the girl's presence. 
 
 Dolores, for her part, had but one fear, that his 
 silence included any idea of her speaking of that 
 which she had learnt. 
 
 Little as she could ^uess as to the cause of the 
 secrecy, yet the anxiety for it had been evident 
 enough. After all, they did not know her, and 
 possibly feared indiscretion on her part. 
 
 Three milestones had slipped past before his 
 conscience prodded Jerome Shore up to a recognition
 
 266 INGELHEIM. 
 
 of the fact that his own anxieties were preventing 
 him from entertaining his companion, and he turned 
 to her, saying the first thing that came into his 
 head. 
 
 " It is almost as dark as it was on the tower stairs, 
 but not as frightening," he added. " The only thing 
 that could happen here would be that we were up- 
 set, and that, I trust, is not likely." 
 
 " It would be better than seeing a ghost," she 
 answered. 
 
 " Do you know, Miss Traherne, I am afraid you 
 are a little coward." 
 
 " I don't mind real thinQS," she answered eva- 
 sively. 
 
 " I do," he drily replied, " they hurt a great deal 
 more." He was silent a minute, and then with 
 sudden expansiveness, "It is very disappointing to 
 have our drive spoilt ; but, to tell you the truth, all 
 the cheerfulness has been knocked out of me by 
 
 meeting " He paused. The name had been 
 
 avoided — it was an additional security that she 
 should not learn it. Eeaching it thus, he stopped 
 abruptly, and then, looking down, met the sweet 
 gentle eyes lifted to his under the shadow of the 
 velvet hat — the same eyes, the same expression that 
 he had seen by that momentary flicker of light on 
 the old stairway. The pause, the reason for it, 
 flashed from him to her, and she strove to fill up 
 the gap, and deprive it of awkwaixlness by saying 
 something.
 
 INGELHEIM. 267 
 
 " You cannot feel cheerful wlien you know your 
 friend is in trouble — it is worse, too, because you 
 cannot speak of it." 
 
 The remark was so crude, so unlike the comments 
 of those with whom his lot was cast, that a reply 
 was not easy ; but it had opened the way for her to 
 say more, and she went on at once — 
 
 " I wish I had not been with you this afternoon," 
 — her tones were nervous, — " though I do not think it 
 really matters. I scarcely know any one in Ingel- 
 heim, and Emilie never asks questions. Besides, you 
 know" I have promised not to tell — and I don't know 
 his name, so that you need not be uneasy." 
 
 When her soft nervous voice was silent, he leaned 
 towards her in quick impulsiveness. " His name is 
 Prince Dorislaus Lescynski," he said ; " do not think 
 we don't trust you." 
 
 She smiled, — a grateful pleased smile, as she recog- 
 nised the confidence the words held, but it was only 
 gratitude and happiness. There w^as nothing in the 
 name itself, she had evidently never heard it. 
 
 The momentary impulse gratified, he w^as glad to 
 realise this, not for himself — he trusted her implicitly 
 — but it might annoy Dorislaus, the confidence any- 
 how miglit be difficult of explanation. To Dolores 
 it seemed that to have won such recognition of her 
 trustworthiness was the proudest, happiest moment 
 of her life. Small wonder her cheeks fiushed and her 
 eyes grew dim. 
 
 After this, conversation was easier. Jerome had
 
 2G8 INGELHEIM. 
 
 swung round again into the former groove : he 
 seemed to have left Dorislaus and his brooding 
 sorrow — which had altered and saddened him — far 
 behind, with the other ghosts that haunted Castle 
 Ehrenberg. 
 
 He was once once more under the influence of this 
 fresh young nature, which was only true and frank, 
 and as yet unaware of the difficulties of the world, 
 beyond the home. And he was so young himself ; 
 it was so easy to echo her laughter, smile back at 
 her smiles, and to be only aware that they were 
 alone under the dark starlit skies. 
 
 Once again only he alluded to Dorislaus — abruptly, 
 inexplicitly, — " It is a mania his insisting on no one 
 knowing he is there ;— a mania to which, however, 
 we must agree, because he is in trouble and unable 
 to judge wisely ; but never believe anything against 
 him, whatever you may hear. I, who know him so 
 well, tell you, he has never in all his life done any- 
 thing to be ashamed of. He has been unlucky and 
 unwise, perhaps, but that is all ; though," he added, 
 " I daresay you will find many people who think 
 differently. But you will know it is false." 
 
 " Yes, I shall know," she answered, " because you 
 have told me." 
 
 Even from this young ignorant girl the words 
 pleased him. Of late, many a suggestive word, or 
 worse still, jeering laugh, had reached his ears, when 
 Dorislaus's name had been mentioned. 
 
 After that, with tliat ready kindliness which was
 
 INGELHEliM. 269 
 
 the chief note in his character, he talked only of such 
 things as might interest her. The coming Fancy 
 Ball held a liTcat fascination for her. 
 
 o 
 
 " Oh, how I should like to see it, or even some of 
 the dresses ! " 
 
 " AVould you ? I daresay Virginia would favour 
 you so far. Have you suggested it ? " 
 
 " Xo, I should not like to do so." 
 
 " Well, I will. Is not that brave of me ? " 
 
 " It is very kind," she answered. " But perhaps 
 she might not like it, so I will not think of it." 
 
 " Oh, it shall be managed, never fear. You shall 
 come up to Yirginia's room — Miss Desprez can bring 
 you — and you shall see us in all our glory." 
 
 " It is a secret, of course, what every one is to 
 wear ? " she queried. 
 
 " Supposed to be," he assented, striving to remem- 
 ber any talk that had reached his ears. " The 
 Princess's dress is an open secret, she is to appear 
 as the ' Grey Lady.' " 
 
 " I should not like to do that, if I were she." 
 
 " Why not ? Do you think she will avenge herself 
 on the human being who copies her toilet ? " 
 
 But Dolores could not explain. 
 
 '' Virginia has kept her intentions a secret even 
 from me," he went on, " which has been, I daresay, 
 wise, because if I had known I should have now 
 told you. But mine you shall be specially privileged 
 to learn, although no one has heard of it, not even 
 Fanny Ellesmere."
 
 270 INGELHEIM. 
 
 The laughter in his eyes was apparent as he 
 looked down in the faint starlight. 
 
 " She, Miss Ellesmere, was very anxious I should 
 go as Jester to her Folly, but I refused the flattering 
 offer. It would not have been becoming, I am sure ; 
 and I am going as the Huguenot. In Millais's pic- 
 ture, you know," he added, when he saw the doubt 
 in her face, a doubt his words did not remove. 
 
 He was aware of that directly, her ignorance of 
 common things was constantly surprising him, but 
 there was no expression of it in his voice. 
 
 " You have never seen it ? To tell the truth, 
 neither have I, but the photograph suffices for the 
 purpose. They have a very good one at Schmidt's ; 
 we will stop there on our way, and you shall have a 
 copy to show you what to expect." 
 
 " Thank you," she said, shyly, with a hot blush, 
 brought there partly at the recognition of her 
 ignorance, — for she was instinctively aware she had 
 displayed unexpected ignorance, — and partly with 
 pleasure at the promise. 
 
 The great print-shop was all lit up when they 
 stopped at its doors ; passers - by, attracted by the 
 pictures in the window, were crowding round to 
 gaze, as Captain Shore jumped out of the sleigh, and 
 then held out his hand. 
 
 " Come, Miss Traherne, we are late, I am afraid ; 
 but fortunately so late that stopping here won't 
 make any difference." 
 
 His words recalled a fact which had been com-
 
 INGELHEIM. 271 
 
 pletely forgotten. Late, yes, of course it was late, 
 but what did it matter ! The present happi- 
 ness pushed far into the background every other 
 feeling. 
 
 Fortunately, Herr Schmidt himself was in, and in 
 answer to Captain Shore's question produced a large 
 copy of the picture in question. Coloured too, so 
 Dolores was enabled to form a conception of the 
 proposed costume ; but whilst Captain Shore com- 
 mented on it, he was well aware that his remarks 
 conveyed little or nothing to her, the word Hugue- 
 not was apparently familiar, but of the story itself 
 she knew nothing. 
 
 He told it to her afterwards, steadying the horses' 
 pace to a quiet trot through the brilliant streets. In 
 the hard light of the gas - lamps he could see her 
 eyes softening with interest as he told his story, 
 and she realised all the tragedy that lay under its 
 apparent simplicity. 
 
 In her hand was the photograph he had given 
 her ; she drew it from its cover as he spoke, and 
 looked down at it in the dim light. 
 
 " It seems almost unkind," she said, " to copy his 
 dress for a Fancy Ball, does it not ? " 
 
 " After all, it is only a story," he said, more 
 lightly, his own voice had saddened a little as he 
 spoke, " so I think we are justified in profiting by it." 
 
 " And it will be very becoming — it is a beautiful 
 dress," she answered. 
 
 " Well, you shall judge of that."
 
 'J> I 2 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " I wonder," and she sighed, " if I shall. I am 
 afraid it is too good to come true." 
 
 " Oh no, it is not," he answered. " Don't imagine 
 that, and don't doubt, because that looks as if you 
 had not confidence in me, which would be very 
 painful to my feelings." 
 
 " 'No, I am sure you will try," she replied ; " but 
 for fear you do not succeed " 
 
 " Oh, I always succeed," he answered lightly. As 
 he spoke they were nearing the house, in the narrow 
 roadway opposite the Palace entrance. 
 
 " Good night," he said, when they stopped, taking 
 her hand in his ; " it is so late that I will not come 
 in, I will just wait here until the door is opened, 
 and I know you are safe." 
 
 She hesitated a moment, in some doubt as to what 
 form of thanks would be most appropriate, but after 
 all only repeated his " Good night," lifting glad shy 
 eyes the while she sped swiftly through the little 
 garden ; her heart beating quickly, in her hand, 
 tightly clasped, the picture, — through the garden and 
 up the steps to the house. 
 
 Apparently the sleigh had been lieai'd, for while 
 her hand was yet stretched out to the bell, the door 
 was opened, and Emilie stood in the entrance. 
 
 " Dear Dolores, how late you are ! I thought you 
 were never coming. I have such a glad surprise for 
 you. Mr James Traherne is here."
 
 273 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Tliere was a careless voice that used to sing, 
 There was a child — a sweet and happy thing." 
 
 All throiigli these weary mouths of separation, 
 whenever his mind had not been preoccupied with 
 work, it had been to this visit tlie thoughts of Jem 
 Traherne had been turned. 
 
 He did not allude to it in his letters — it miQ;ht 
 not be easy of accomplishment, there were moments 
 when it seemed impossible ; but it was a promise, 
 and unless fate were stronger than he, he knew, or 
 thought he knew, that Dolores would be counting 
 on its fulfilment. 
 
 And he had conquered, despite overwork and short 
 holidays, and, harder still to combat, his mother's 
 disapproval, he had made his way hither, travelling 
 day and night to lose no time, well aware that, with 
 the utmost carefulness, one short week was all he 
 had to give her. 
 
 During all the journey he had pictured to him- 
 self her pleasure in his arrival, the relief of seeing 
 one of her old home, after this long enforced foreign 
 
 VOL. T. S
 
 274 INGELHEIM. 
 
 companionship ; and there had been a sense of 
 disappointment when he learnt, on his arrival, of 
 her absence. She must have expected him to-day ; 
 though later, the first moments over, he guessed that 
 she had interpreted his silence to mean that he had 
 found his promise impossible of fulfilment. He 
 smiled at the idea, — there were not many things in 
 which he could recall being beaten. 
 
 With Emilie Desprez he sat and talked; her 
 father was out, and from her he learnt all there was 
 to learn. Not much — very much the same story as 
 her letters had already acquainted him with. Of 
 the friendship with Miss Shore she spoke but little : 
 she was English, she had taken a fancy to the girl, 
 and had been kind to her. It was a change in the 
 dull routine of her life. Of Jerome, not a word. 
 Miss Desprez was aware that if she mentioned his 
 name there would be that shadowy note of dis- 
 approval which was always lurking in the back- 
 ground of her own consciousness, and she knew that 
 those steady eyes would recognise the fact and be 
 alarmed. She hesitated, the moment passed, and 
 his name was not spoken. 
 
 Shortly after there was the jingle of bells through 
 the still frosty air. Jem rising, pushed back 
 the curtain, and saw the slight figure hurrying 
 up the garden slope, and caught a vague glimpse 
 of a man's form bending forward following her 
 movements. 
 
 He turned, a question on his lips, but JNIiss
 
 INGELHEIM. 275 
 
 Desprez had disappeared, and a second later lie was 
 standing by her side in the doorway, with Dolores's 
 arms about his neck, her kisses on his cheek. 
 
 Yes, this was the moment to which he had looked 
 forward the whole year. This was the slight dark- 
 eyed child of whom he had so often thought — and 
 yet it was not quite as he had imagined it ; but then 
 our imagination is apt, unless held in check, to run 
 away wdtli us. 
 
 She was very little altered, scarcely any taller; 
 her cheeks were burning from the frosty air, and in 
 contrast wdth the velvet of her hat, and the dark 
 fur about her throat, the rich colour made her more 
 nearly handsome than he had ever before thought 
 her. This surged through his mind, whilst she stood 
 looking up at him, saying little, her words were 
 always so few, and then Emilie spoke — 
 
 " You had better take off your hat, Dolores, and 
 then you can take Mr Traherne into the morning- 
 room, and hear all the news. There is still an hour 
 before dinner." 
 
 Dolores obeyed — a little glad to escape. It was 
 so long since she had seen him — he was so quiet — 
 so old — with a little pause between the sentences ; 
 so difficult to talk to — slie wished she had known he 
 was coming. And then a rush of gratitude and 
 self-reproach mingled, as she recalled his promise 
 in the study at home, and how little she had thought 
 of it since. 
 
 His photograph was distinctly reproachful in the
 
 276 INGELHEIM. 
 
 faint gaslight as slie opened tlie door. She walked 
 over, and stood before it whilst unfastening her 
 cloak, and then she took the new picture out of its 
 cover and placed it amongst the others. 
 
 It was of the Huguenot's story she was thinking 
 as she ran down the stairs to meet Jem Traherne in 
 the morning-room. 
 
 Once there, the excitement of the afternoon faded 
 a little under the influence of his presence. There 
 were so many memories, fading a little, but 
 yet easily revived by the sight of his familiar 
 figure. 
 
 This was once again the stronger reality. It was 
 not easy for her to talk or explain ; but his questions 
 soon drew from her all he wished to know. As for 
 his own prospects and hopes and fears, they were 
 less easy of enumeration. All these late weeks, 
 whilst planning this visit, it had been of his own 
 success he had pictured himself talking, for success 
 was within reach — at least, he had set his foot on 
 the first step of the road, and to such a man the first 
 step assured, there was little doubt as to ultimate 
 achievement. And success was very dear to him : 
 it meant not only gratified ambition, and the con- 
 sciousness of making the best use of time and talent, 
 but, in addition, it was the answer to all those angry 
 reproachful words that had been sucli a trial to his 
 young life. 
 
 This offer lie had received, flattering to one so 
 young, was the answer he could fling at his little
 
 IXGELHEIM. 277 
 
 world. " See at least what others think, and learn 
 to judge accordingly." 
 
 There is much besides pride or vanity which is 
 gratified by such a position. The ignorance that 
 despises knowledge it cannot understand, may be 
 moved to respect when it sees that it stands in 
 a minority. 
 
 But flattered and pleased as he was, he liad in- 
 sisted on his own terms, and they were a fortnight's 
 holiday before he started. It did not seem very 
 much to ask, with two years in South America to 
 follow, but Jem Traherne knew what he risked 
 when he announced his decision. 
 
 His employers hesitated and strove to change his 
 decision, and when they found that was impossible, 
 gave in, and postponed his departure, because, as they 
 agreed amongst themselves, such a man was not to 
 be picked up in a hurry — and Jem recognised with a 
 sio-h the relief he felt that this great chance was not 
 to escape him, and that in addition he had kept his 
 promise to Dolores. 
 
 He had succeeded ; everything had turned out as 
 he had desired — nay, as he had expected — there was 
 no change in her, or if there were, it was so slight as 
 to be scarcely noticeable ; nothing more tlian the 
 faint promise of dawning womanhood, giving a greater 
 sense of immaturity to the charm of girlhood, and 
 yet 
 
 Yet he was conscious of a passionate resentment 
 that so it should be.
 
 278 INGELHETM. 
 
 What liacl he expected these months would do for 
 him ? 
 
 Conscious of his own injustice, for his disappoint- 
 ment was certainly due to no shortcomings on her 
 part, he could only strive that she should not notice 
 it ; he kept the talk about everyday matters, answer- 
 ing her little questions about those at liome and the 
 slight changes in the village. She did not ask any 
 direct question about himself or his work, and no 
 opportunity arose, or so it seemed to him, of speaking 
 of his future. So when night came, and he went to 
 bed, the great secret was still hidden away in his 
 breast, — the great secret which he had pictured as 
 the prelude to so many otlier topics which they two 
 were to have discussed in this old German tow^n, 
 topics wdiich should signify her future as well as his, 
 but which now seemed further off than ever. 
 
 He was not always self-confident ; he had his hours 
 of doubt, like most of his fellows, and it was of him- 
 self he doubted when he stood in his room that nio-ht, 
 the visitors' room, which Emilie had prepared for 
 him. 
 
 " I thought I was right in waiting before — and to- 
 night what could I have said that would not have 
 set a gulf of separation between us for ever. If I 
 speak now, she eitlier promises herself in ignorance, 
 or the gulf is fixed between us ; if I wait till my 
 return two years hence, she will have learnt more, — 
 probably from another, — and will know the value of 
 her love for me."
 
 INGELHEIM. 279 
 
 He thought of her soft little good-night kiss. 
 How much to risk for so little assured gain. 
 
 Next morning he awoke to the doubts that had 
 stood by him till he slept ; they were still in atten- 
 dance when he met her, so fresh and happy, so full 
 of her past day's pleasure, of the possibilities that 
 were yet in store. 
 
 Sunday passed, and then came Christmas Eve, 
 which was to be devoted to the small purchases 
 which Jem w^as to take to those at home, and the 
 short winter day was passed at her side, wdiile she 
 showed him all there was of interest in the little 
 town. 
 
 He took her to church on Christmas Day. This 
 was a special pleasure, because as a rule she went 
 with Emilie to tlie French Protestant service, and 
 the well - known familiar words gladdened her 
 heart. 
 
 The service was held in a small chapel, decorated 
 in honour of the day with greenery and scarlet holly- 
 berries. There were not many English present. 
 Captain and Miss Shore attracted Jem's attention, 
 recognising, as he did at once, Virginia from Dolores's 
 description. 
 
 Afterwards, when they stood once more in the 
 street, in the bright frosty sunshine, Miss Shore, 
 noting the girl, sent her brother to fetch her. 
 
 He joined them just as they were turning away, 
 and shaking Imnds with Dolores, glanced inquiringly 
 towards her companion.
 
 280 INGELHEIM. 
 
 "It is my brother," she said, a little nervously, as 
 one unaccustomed to the ceremony of introduction, 
 but that was all, Jem observed. 
 
 Her brother ! No slightest shadow of the un- 
 reality of the relationship had ever touched her. 
 
 " It was only to tell you," Miss Shore said, kindly, 
 " that it is all right about Friday. I shall be only 
 too pleased to exhibit my costume to such an appre- 
 ciative person. It is a secret — the dress I mean — 
 because if Jerome once knew, so would every one 
 else, so you must wait till Friday." 
 
 She smiled and nodded, and drove away through 
 the snowy streets, her brother by her side. 
 
 " That of course is Miss Shore's brother ? " Jem 
 questioned, as they turned homewards. There was 
 a momentary fear of he knew not what, as he put 
 his question, but it vanished as he met Dolores's 
 happy trustful eyes. 
 
 Purely happy, purely trustful, nothing else to fear, 
 but — the doubts crowded round closer than ever. 
 Nothing to fear, but certainly nothing to hope — 
 on what indeed had he been building ? 
 
 And so the few short days, so eagerly looked 
 forward to, passed in trivialities, and he woke to 
 realise it was Friday, his last day, and that now 
 all continuance of this unusual doubt must come 
 to an end, and before six o'clock he must have 
 spoken those words which were so near his heart, 
 or go away leaving them unspoken — for ever — 
 seemed most likely.
 
 INGELHEIM. 281 
 
 And Dolores too woke on that Friday morning 
 to a swift consciousness of the importance of this 
 day amongst other days, and glanced with her first 
 active thought to where the Huguenot stood, circled 
 in a holly wreath, her eyes smiling in happy an- 
 ticipation, the smile fading away a moment later, 
 when her looks fell on the picture of broad- 
 shouldered Jem below. This was Jem's last 
 day. 
 
 Breakfast at the Desprez's was in the French 
 fashion, at noon, and Jem, after a cup of coffee, 
 went out for a solitary walk. He was not accus- 
 tomed to hesitation — as a rule, one side of a question 
 was in his opinion so distinctly better than the 
 other, after a little consideration, — that it annoyed 
 him to remember all the thought he had given to 
 this subject, and apparently to no purpose ; but now 
 there should be an end of vacillation, he would ao 
 out with the distinct purpose of thinking it well 
 over, and he would return and act as he should have 
 decided on doing. He was not a man inclined to 
 leave things to chance or opportunity. 
 
 He chose the public picture-gallery for his place 
 of thought, not with a view to being influenced by 
 his surroundings, but simply because, as it was free 
 and open every day, it was unlikely to be occupied 
 at that hour of the mornincj. 
 
 He was correct in his surmise. For two hours 
 he was at liberty to pace up and down its length, 
 a lazy guardian occasionally glancing in upon him,
 
 282 INGELHEIM. 
 
 but retiring directly he realised that he was only an 
 English tourist. 
 
 He was not conscious of looking at the walls 
 as he paced slowly up and down, his head slightly 
 bent, his arms folded, in an attitude peculiar to 
 him when in thought ; but years after, when at 
 any crisis of his life he stood in the familiar atti- 
 tude, bringing all his mind to bear on the chief 
 points of the question to be thought out, suddenly 
 would appear from out of those hidden nooks and 
 crannies where Memory hides her often worthless 
 secrets, strange images, which formed a rich and 
 varied background, — St Sebastian pierced through 
 with many arrows, stirring battle-scenes, weeping 
 Magdalenes, and triumphant saints ; they would all 
 crowd around him, as they did on that wintry day 
 in the gallery at Ingelheim. 
 
 When he emerged once more into the frosty air, 
 his mind was made up. 
 
 Better to risk everything than at some future 
 time reproach himself for anything left unsaid. 
 Time might at any moment alter their respective 
 positions with no word from him : let then the 
 w^ord be spoken, and let the risk rest with him 
 who spoke it. 
 
 A little excited, a little moved out of his ordinary 
 self notwithstanding his calm, he made his way 
 through the crowded streets to the lonely road and 
 the Desprez's house, to become aware, as he pushed 
 open the garden-gate, that some one was standing
 
 INGELHEIM. 283 
 
 on the steps — a stranger he fancied, and yet there 
 was something familiar ahout the short stout figure, 
 the spectacled face, and certainly something familiar 
 about the loud German voice. 
 
 A moment later the recoGjnition was mutual. " It 
 is you, My Traherne," Herr Laurentius was saying, 
 in his most untutored English — " you don't forget 
 me ? No, I see not." Holding out a fat small hand. 
 " We are here on the same business, I expect, or 
 pleasure rather. To see the young lady — my pupil 
 — your sister." He hesitated just long enough be- 
 fore the word to give a little intention to the 
 sentence. 
 
 " To say Good-bye to my sister — by adoption," 
 Jem replied, imperturbably. He had made up his 
 mind, no old foreigners should daunt him once that 
 was accomplished, but yet he was not pleased at 
 this meeting. He would rather this old man had 
 come to-morrow. Still, under the circumstances, it 
 could make no difference. 
 
 But it did. 
 
 It is so difficult to carry out a plan under totally 
 different circumstances; it is no use ignoring that 
 they are powerful factors in the scheme of life. 
 
 The plan that Jem had resolved upon in the 
 solitude of the picture-gallery was to take Dolores 
 out after breakfast, to suggest a sleigh-drive, to hire 
 a sleigh, and to take her away far into the country, 
 and there lay before her all the chances that had 
 opened out before him, the coming separation, and
 
 284 INGELHEIM. 
 
 the reason it held for telling her of his future 
 hopes. 
 
 But after an interminable meal, and much follow- 
 ing talk, and questions as to what Dolores had 
 learnt, and how she was getting on, mingled with 
 local gossip and scandal, he was obliged to acknow- 
 ledge, when he saw that the short winter afternoon 
 was closing in, that that plan had become imprac- 
 ticable. 
 
 He had been amused and interested at first, the 
 time had slipped by unawares, now a fresh combi- 
 nation must be thought out, and youth is not, as a 
 rule, swift in resolving on fresh combinations. 
 
 After lunch they had sat on smoking cigarettes 
 when the ladies had gone. " To rest for a little," 
 Herr Laurentius had remarked to Dolores, " and 
 then the voice, — I must hear and judge how it is 
 getting on." 
 
 And now Dolores, thoroughly nervous, was being 
 comforted by Emilie in the drawing-room. 
 
 '' No one else frightens me," she asserted, '' but he 
 is so " 
 
 She hesitated for a word. 
 
 " Eoudi," Emilie finished. " Yes, Dolores ; but 
 
 think of him as if he were a great English oak, all 
 rouo'h outside, but so useful and true and reliable. 
 Once," she went on, taking the girl's liand, " he had 
 several little children, and they did not fear him, 
 they played about him like — the leaves on the oak 
 — you know " — smiling a little sadly, " and now they
 
 IXGELIIEIM. 285 
 
 are all dead — and so is his wife, and there are very 
 few people left who know what a kind heart is 
 hidden away." 
 
 Emilie's voice was soft ; she was thinking of the 
 rough tones asking after Antoine, and the promise 
 that he would go and see him. 
 
 " He is a disgrace to your father's teaching, so he 
 says, at least, but your father is no judge of the 
 unlucky ones." 
 
 Poor comfort ! and yet to her unhappy heart it 
 was worth something. The words made her at 
 least interpret him aright. 
 
 Shortly after, he entered the room, calling to 
 Dolores at once to prepare to let him judge what 
 she had learnt. 
 
 " What shall it be ? " M. Desprez questioned. 
 He went up to the piano and patted Dolores's hand 
 encouragingly. "Don't be frightened," he said 
 kindly, "he only wears a bear's skin, under it he 
 is a perfect lamb." 
 
 " I know," Dolores answered, with a wavering 
 little smile towards the bearskin, " I am not fright- 
 ened." 
 
 '•' Bravo I " Herr Laurentius growled. " Now, Des- 
 prez, go on ; what is it to be ? " 
 
 He seated himself by Emilie, crossing his fat 
 hands as he spoke, and prepared to listen. He had 
 not really much doubt. M. Desprez was a good 
 judge, and had kept him well posted in Dolores's 
 progress ; still he was apt to be enthusiastic, it
 
 286 INGELHEIM. 
 
 was as well to come at intervals and judge for 
 himself. 
 
 Whatever two opinions there might be about M. 
 Desprez's own work, whether in the future it would 
 rank as high as it did at present, there was no doubt 
 about his gift for training. Some of the finest 
 singers of the age owed all to him, or so it pleased 
 them to say. His style, his taste, his finish, were 
 sought far and wide. There was a certain cachet of 
 which he alone held the secret. 
 
 And on this young girl he had easily set his mark 
 — the very enthusiasm he evoked aided her in avail- 
 ing herself of it. Anxious to do him credit, to show 
 Herr Laurentius he had not been mistaken, she 
 sang, so it seemed to Emilie, as she had never heard 
 her sing before. Handel's music, in that pure clear 
 voice, throbbed through the silence of the room, 
 touching all hearts. 
 
 "Good child, good child!" Herr Laurentius said. 
 His voice did not seem quite so gruff. " Now, you 
 need not be frightened at any one else, because I," 
 tapping his chest with his fat finger, " because I 
 — Ludwig Laurentius — am satisfied." 
 
 Emilie kissed her flushed cheeks in a kind sisterly 
 way, and took her over to the corner where Jem 
 sat, away from where the two men were discussing 
 future plans. 
 
 To Jem her voice was a revelation. All the days 
 he had been in the house he had never asked to hear 
 her sing. His mind had been full of other things :
 
 INGELHEIM. 287 
 
 he was not musical, when she went for her daily 
 lesson, it had never struck him to follow her, or 
 speak of it. That was indeed the most natural time 
 to go out — when she was engaged, and could not 
 speak to him. 
 
 But if unmusical, he was not ignorant ; he had 
 heard many voices, and therefore could better value 
 the tone and beauty of this one. She had always 
 sung sweetly, but this was something very different. 
 This, then, was what these people had done for her ; 
 no wonder, if they had foreseen this, that at any 
 cost they had esteemed themselves justified in tak- 
 ing her away from where they had found her. 
 
 So far his thoughts had run on, when, lifting his 
 eyes, he saw the clock. Four — past four. In a 
 couple of hours he must start, and so much yet to 
 be done. 
 
 With sudden decision he rose and addressed 
 Erailie, at work in the window. 
 
 " ]\Iay I take Dolly to the morning-room ? " he 
 asked. " It is getting late, and there seems to be 
 still a great deal I have to say to her." 
 
 " Yes, certainly. Go," she added a minute later, 
 " and I will send her to you." 
 
 He followed her suggestion, and leaving the two 
 men still discussing the future, sauntered out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Dolores," Eniilie said, moving over to her, " go 
 to your brother in the morning -room ; he wishes 
 to speak to you, and it is getting late."
 
 288 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " Going, where are you going ? " Herr Lauren- 
 tius began, as he observed her departure, " stay 
 with us." 
 
 But at Emilie's explanation he ceased urging, 
 though there was a muttered " You will find us 
 better company." 
 
 " He is going away," Dolores very tranquilly said, 
 " and after that " 
 
 "After that, what ?" queried the Professor. 
 
 " Emilie will tell you," the girl answered, with a 
 little flash of delight illuminino; her face, " I must 
 not stay." 
 
 "Well, go on as you have begun, and you will 
 end well, and I will come — see, I promise it — I will 
 come all the way from wherever I may be to hear 
 you sing the first time in public." 
 
 " Thank you," Dolores interrupted gently, making 
 another little effort to escape. 
 
 " No, wait ; I must tell you one thing more : you 
 must never forget that imprisoned in every song, as 
 in every language, there is a soul — but it takes a 
 genius to set it free." 
 
 And as he met Dolores's puzzled eyes, partly at 
 the words themselves, partly at the pronunciation — 
 " It is a very good sentence," he said, with satisfac- 
 tion, " but you will not understand it till you are 
 older. 
 
 " She is a nice little girl," he added complacently, 
 as he sat down ; " and beyond that, she is going to 
 be a handsome little girl Oh, not a beauty,
 
 INGELHEIM. 289 
 
 but a nice dark-haired, dark-eyed girl ; she will look 
 well on the stage." 
 
 "No, not a beauty," Emilie assented, "though, 
 after all, there are moments when I am not sure." 
 
 " It will depend a good deal on what life does for 
 her," M. Desprez said, shrewdly. " Good fortune 
 will do more for her than paint and powTler. I 
 never saw any one's looks depend so much on 
 externals." 
 
 " And happiness," Emilie observed, " will do more 
 than good fortune." 
 
 '■' jSTot much difference in my recipe and yours," 
 her father answered. 
 
 " Oh yes," she said, quietly, but she did not lift 
 her eyes from her work ; " all the difference between 
 the realities of life and the mere externals." 
 
 M. Desprez looked up as if to say something, but 
 his daughter did not lift her eyes — perhaps her 
 words had not meant much — perhaps it would be 
 as well not to risk an explanation of them. 
 
 When Dolores opened the morning-room door, 
 Jem was standing by the white china stove, 
 attracted to that part of the room by a familiar 
 instinct which led him towards the fireplace, his 
 head bent, his arms folded — the same attitude as 
 that of the picture-gallery, but his thoughts were 
 very different. He was angrily conscious that every- 
 thing was against him ; that he was acting without 
 the strong support of his judgment, and yet that 
 there was no holding back, because of that argument 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 INGELHEIM. 
 
 of the morning, which had brought matters to this 
 issue. 
 
 The very words with which Dolores entered, " 
 Jem, how late it is ! — how soon you will have to go ! " 
 The very look in her eyes was an addition to his 
 trouble, in their unconsciousness of it ; and yet 
 justice, that strongest note in his character, forbade 
 the feeling. 
 
 He lacked the intuition wherewith Jerome Shore 
 in his place would have at once felt at one with the 
 ojirl, and have understood her. The oift which was 
 Jerome's would have been that of an interpreter. 
 He would have not only understood, but felt the 
 girl's happy mood ; its reflection would have fallen 
 upon him, whereas Jem could only argue out, 
 through some strong sense of fairness and justice, 
 that, because he was unhappy, there was no reason 
 that she should be, and strive to remember it. 
 Even now he hesitated, meaning to lead up to his 
 subject ; and yet, when he lifted his eyes and saw 
 her standing before him in the little shy way he had 
 so often noticed when she was a child at home, and 
 he had singled her out for praise or blame, none of 
 the hesitation he had wished for was possible. 
 
 " Dolly," — strive as he would he was conscious by 
 her increasing nervousness that he was frightening 
 her by the gravity of his voice, — "all these days 
 there has been something I have wished to tell you, 
 and yet I have not done so." 
 
 " They are not ill ? " she faltered.
 
 INGELHEIM. 291 
 
 "No, no." He stretched out his hand and took 
 hers, so slight and small, in his great strong clasp, 
 and drew her a little nearer to him — " Xo, no, don't 
 be frightened ; it is something very different — about 
 ourselves, you and me." 
 
 He looked down to see if his words, his tone, 
 conveyed any meaning to her — no, only a quick 
 vanishing of the fear that had crept into her eyes. 
 She came a step nearer, looking up with evident 
 relief. 
 
 " It begins about myself," he went on. " I have 
 been offered a very good position in South America ; 
 very good for one of my years and small experience. 
 Good pay, responsibility, a position of trust, which 
 will probably, if all goes well, lead to something 
 more " 
 
 " Oh, dear Jem, I am glad ! " 
 
 There was no doubt of her sympathy, her affection. 
 If she had indeed been a sister 
 
 "This is the reward because you have been so 
 good and brave — I knew it always, always." Her 
 cheeks flushed with happy pride. 
 
 " It is for two years," he said, slowly, " and I must 
 start in a week." 
 
 She sighed. "It is a long, long time ; but you 
 will not mind, after all, you will be glad to see the 
 world, — you always wished it." And then a moment 
 later, " Oh, how good of you to come here ! " as she 
 realised what his words meant. 
 
 " Dolly, I promised.''
 
 292 INGELHEIM 
 
 There might have been a shadow of reproach in 
 the words — a shadow of reproach in her own heart. 
 With a sudden movement she thl'ew her arms about 
 his neck, and kissed him. " Oh, dear Jem, no one 
 has ever been as good to me as you have. Home 
 won't be a bit like home without you ! " 
 
 With her kisses, her words, ahnost unconsciously 
 the brother's tenderness was lost a little in the 
 lover's ; — he drew her closer to him, his arm holding 
 her against his heart, his hand smoothing her dark 
 hair, and yet now to put the rest of his sentence 
 into words savoured of sacrilege ; as if having be- 
 trayed her into such tenderness and abandonment, 
 he were trying to profit by it. 
 
 But time was inexorable. 
 
 " Listen, Dolly," he said, '' I have sometliing more 
 to say, which I should not say now, unless it were 
 for the necessity that will prevent my speaking to 
 you again for so long. And in two years so much 
 may happen that I cannot now foresee. 
 
 " My father may die, our home may be broken up, 
 you ill, unable to continue your work — oh, a thou- 
 sand things. I want to tell you this, so that should 
 any difficulty arise, you may know at once what 
 to do." 
 
 He paused ; the words were difficult, and loos- 
 ening his hold upon her, he put her at a little 
 distance, and looked down into her wondering soft 
 eyes. 
 
 " What I want to tell you," he went on steadily,
 
 INGELHEIM. 293 
 
 " is this : when I return, my hope is that you will 
 become my wife." 
 
 The wonder in her eyes deepened, but she did not 
 move. 
 
 " You are young now, too young to understand ; 
 but if you are a child, I am a man," the steady voice 
 faltered a little. " It has been my hope, my dream, 
 ever since I can remember, and I meant to win you 
 by-and-by wiien the time should come. But all this," 
 vaguely, " has altered everything. I cannot go away 
 and leave you ignorant." 
 
 He was silent, and looked at her as if expecting 
 some comment on his words. There was none, 
 unless it were the slowly retreating colour from 
 cheeks and lips, — in her eyes the wonder had given 
 place to a kind of terror. 
 
 " Dolly, dear," he said, gently, " don't look like 
 that. ]\ry w^ords only mean this, that if at any 
 moment you should need help, whilst I stand on 
 God's earth, you may look to me for it. You will 
 trust me more surely," he added. '• when you know 
 that I love you." 
 
 " Yes, yes," she faltered. 
 
 " I have written an address on that slip of paper," 
 he went on, pointing to the table, " which will always 
 find me. Should you want me, and you write and 
 say ' Come,' as quickly as I can be with you, you 
 may look to see me." 
 
 Noticing the direction of his hand, she moved to 
 the table and took up the envelope as if to read it.
 
 294 INGELHEIM. 
 
 but it was impossible ; the mist before her eyes, the 
 beating of her heart, prevented it. She stood there 
 in the winter dusk, a slim figure in her dark dress, 
 her eyes still turned towards him pleadingly, or so 
 he thought. 
 
 " Sending for me," he said, gently, " would mean, 
 Dolly, that you wanted my help and trusted me — 
 nothing more. Everything else" — he paused and 
 sighed — " will be for you to give, if you can, when 
 you are old enough to know. I am going now," 
 he went on a moment later. " It is time at least 
 that I should be thinking of it, for I have still 
 my ' good-byes ' to say to the others. We will say 
 good-bye here : it is better." 
 
 He drew a step nearer to her, and taking her 
 hand, stooped his head for her accustomed kiss. 
 " If I have troubled you," he said, " believe it was 
 done because I thought it best." 
 
 The hand he held was cold and trembling, and 
 as he touched it, he saw a sudden flame of colour 
 mount into her white cheeks. The first fruit of 
 his words, he knew, — the separation begun, which 
 might possibly never be bridged across again. 
 
 There was something in the tones of his voice 
 which spoke of his despair, when he added — " You 
 will not let me go without a farewell kiss, Dolly, will 
 you ? — after all these years." 
 
 She lifted her head then — her eyes were bright 
 with tears he saw — and pressed a cold little kiss 
 on his cheek ; but he felt all the difference between
 
 INGELHEIM. 295 
 
 the previous tenderness and this shy coldness, and 
 just touching her forehead with his lips, he left 
 the room. 
 
 But, when he re-entered the sitting-room, he was 
 glad to find that Herr Laurentius had left. He 
 had had an uncomfortable idea that his secret 
 hopes w^ere being watched growing through those 
 spectacles. It w\as pleasanter, in his present frame 
 of mind, to find only Emilie at her needlework. 
 
 He half hesitated over his good-bye, so strong was 
 the unaccustomed longing for some expression of 
 sympathy, the wish to say something to her, but 
 second thoughts prevailed. In all the doubt and 
 uncertainty that surrounded both her future and 
 his, the fewer who knew the better. 
 
 He thanked her for her kindness to the girl, 
 and beo'O'ed of her to care for her. " She will tell 
 you," he added, " that I am going away — for a long 
 time. The story is a long one," as Emilie began 
 questioning him, " and I have so little time that I 
 will not begin it, but will leave you to hear it 
 from her." 
 
 On his way down-stairs he paused at the head of 
 the last flight. The cabman was carrying down his 
 box, and there were still a few moments to spare, — 
 plenty of time for him to go once more to the morn- 
 ing-room, and perhaps win some kinder good-bye. 
 
 But even when with hasty steps he had hurried 
 down the dark passage, he was not certain of the 
 wisdom of his act.
 
 296 INGELHEIM. 
 
 The shock of his words had necessarily been great, 
 so little to lead up to them, that she had been sadly 
 unprepared. But he had said them, — that was all 
 that was needful. By-and-by, when he was gone, 
 and life had settled down about her calmly again, 
 all the terror and shyness would die out with noth- 
 ing at hand to revive it, the old trust would then 
 return, and in addition, a special added conscious- 
 ness of his willingness to serve her, the knowledge 
 of the one man on the earth to whom — should her 
 desolate life require aid — she might safely turn and 
 demand it. 
 
 But through all this calm reasoning was the warm 
 human impulse stirring his heart to see her again, 
 even if it were only to gain just such another cold 
 farewell. 
 
 At the door he hesitated a second, his hand on the 
 lock, before opening it. The room was now nearly 
 dark, but in the faint light from the window lie saw 
 her, no longer standing as she had been, shyly, pite- 
 ously nervous, but kneeling on the floor, her arms 
 on the wide low window-seat, her face hidden in 
 them. 
 
 She never heard his entrance, was unaware he was 
 beside her, until he was so close that he could see 
 she was sobbing as if her heart would break, and 
 then, "Dolly," he said, gently, "poor little child, 
 what is it ? " 
 
 At his voice she lifted her head, the tears pouring 
 down her cheeks, her arms outstretched.
 
 INGELHEIM. 297 
 
 " Jem ! dear Jem 1 I tlionglit you had gone, and 
 I am so unhappy ! I did not know what to say to 
 you, and you have always been so kind to me, — no 
 one ever has been so kind." 
 
 "There was nothing to say, Dolly." He was 
 kneelinci: beside her, with his arm round her, just, so 
 tlie thouoiit flashed throuoh him, in the attitude in 
 which he had often comforted her at home, when her 
 French exercise had been incorrect or her sums ill 
 done. 
 
 And just as she would have done then she turned 
 her head towards him now and kissed him, the 
 previous embarrassment forgotten in the return of 
 the old feeling of brotherhood, which for a moment 
 glowed and burnt up again, before vanishing into 
 the darkness for ever.
 
 298 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Only a cliikl— 
 Wistful and sweet, and with a heart for breaking. 
 
 When Emilie, sittiiiGj alone in the room above, had 
 heard the cab drive away, she went down-stairs to 
 look for Dolores. 
 
 Ignorant as she was of any special cause for grief, 
 she was nevertheless not unprepared to find her in 
 trouble. Happy and tranquil as she knew her to 
 be, still this glimpse of home-life was certain to have 
 set her thinking, perhaps regretting, her childhood's 
 friends, and, in addition, the fact that Jem had him- 
 self mentioned that he was going abroad for a long 
 period would in itself be an additional source of 
 trouble. 
 
 When she entered the sitting-room, Dolores had 
 dried her tears, or rather had ceased crying, for her 
 cheeks were wet; but she still remained crouched 
 down on the floor by the window-seat where Jem 
 had left her. 
 
 Emilie, after a moment's bewilderment in the 
 darkness, moved over to her, and putting her arms
 
 INGELHETM. 299 
 
 about her, kissed and strove to comfort her. There 
 was no word from the girl, but she submitted to 
 the caresses, as if pleased wdth the sympathy and 
 tenderness. 
 
 " That is the worst of a little happiness," Emilie 
 said softly, " that we are so loath to give it up." 
 
 " No ; the worst," said Dolores, disconsolately, " is 
 that it spoils other things. I was looking forward 
 so much to this evening, and now I don't care any- 
 thing about it." 
 
 Emilie laughed gently. She could not help it, and 
 at the same time, without pausing to ask why, she was 
 glad. "Well, Dolores, the wisest thing is to try and 
 bring back those lost feelings as quickly as possible ! 
 First, we will go up-stairs and wash away these 
 tears, and leave this dark room and talk of all sorts 
 
 of pleasant things, for instance " She paused. 
 
 She had risen from the floor, and with Dolores's 
 little cold hand in hers, was leading her safely past 
 chairs and tables ; but when they stood in the pas- 
 sage she added, "For instance, how w^ell you sang 
 tliis afternoon, how pleased grumpy old Herr 
 Laurentius was, and how one of these days, about 
 the same time that Jem returns, having made his 
 fortune, he will find his little sister on the way to 
 make hers." 
 
 " Do you believe it ? " Dolores asked earnestly. 
 " Sometimes, Emilie, I don't think myself that I 
 shall ever succeed." 
 
 " Why not ? " But without waiting for an answer.
 
 300 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " It does not do to whisper that here," Emilie went 
 on, a most unaccustomed note of bitterness in her 
 voice ; " success is the watchword of this house." 
 
 Dolores looked up surprised, but Emilie's look 
 was calmer than her words, and the surprise passed 
 as swiftly as it had come. 
 
 However heavy her trouble had seemed to Dolores 
 during the day, there is no doubt that it had ceased 
 for the moment to weigh very heavily, when at 
 length she found herself in Miss Shore's drawing- 
 room. The familiar dull red walls and gleaming 
 weapons formed a background to-night to an unusual 
 scene, and there were already several people present- 
 in strange dresses of a former time, — to Dolores, not 
 the more or less well-devised and carried-out cos- 
 tumes of a fancy ball, but the visible representation 
 of a brilliant dream. For the first moment it was 
 all too unreal for her to associate this elderly pow- 
 dered Marquise with stout good-natured Lady Elles- 
 mere, this slight flippant creature — covered with 
 jingling bells — with her daughter Fanny. Powder 
 and paint, diamonds and rouge, can do so much, 
 remedy so much, that to one spectator, at any rate, 
 they sufficed to efface the work of time. 
 
 Yes ; powder and paint can certainly do a great 
 deal, can transform the plain into the beautiful, and 
 
 the beautiful " Who can this be ? " Dolores 
 
 found herself wondering, as through the curtained 
 opening a new figure entered on the scene. This 
 grey-haired crone, bowed and wrinkled, leaning on
 
 IXGELHEIM. 301 
 
 her stick, her straight brows drawn into a dark bar 
 across her lined forehead. 
 
 " Cross my hand with silver, pretty lady," it was 
 the old gipsy's voice, " and I'll answer the question 
 in your eyes." 
 
 The old gipsy's voice certainly, and yet as cer- 
 tainly — no, it was impossible ! Dolores turned her 
 startled eyes on the crone. Looked at her from 
 head to foot, and still glanced nervously again to the 
 eyes, before she faltered " Miss Shore ? " 
 
 " One success," she answered. " You did not know 
 me, even now you doubt ! And you, Excellency, 
 now for your opinion also." 
 
 '' After the honest ingenuous opinion of childhood, 
 is it worth while ? " 
 
 '• Certainly ; I want the effect on experience as 
 well as on ignorance." 
 
 " The guarded and the unguarded expression 
 of it, you mean, I suppose ? I should marvel 
 more, if I were not prepared for perfection in 
 any character that Miss Shore may choose to 
 adopt." 
 
 For one instant Virginia's eyes met his with a 
 half doubt. 
 
 " Your compliments are so ambiguous. Excellency ; 
 but, of course, that is the perfection of diplomacy, 
 one of its many difficult acquirements, or perhaps," 
 smiling, "its most difficult." 
 
 " You hit hard, Miss Shore." 
 
 " Hit hack hard, perhaps you mean ? That is, in
 
 302 INGELHEIM. 
 
 truth, a compliment. But tell me quickly why are 
 you not disguised — how did you escape the universal 
 decree ? " 
 
 " My age, Miss Shore, stood me in good stead. It 
 sometimes has its advantages." 
 
 " It is very unfair," she replied ; " there should be 
 no exceptions. Fooling should be universal, the 
 exceptions hold too great an advantage." 
 
 " Do you think the world does not show to advan- 
 tage when fooling ? " 
 
 " It may do, but one should be sane one's self to 
 enjoy insanity in others, and that is the advantage 
 you will hold over us." 
 
 " And what does Miss Dolores think of it all ? " 
 his Excellency asked, turning to the girl, whose shy 
 eyes were roving round the room as if in search of 
 some one. She scarcely heard his question, did not 
 answer it at least, and as he watched her, he saw 
 the expression suddenly change to one of heartfelt 
 admiration, and following her gaze, he saw Jerome 
 Shore, in his beautiful Huguenot dress, had entered 
 the room. His keen glance, half amused, half 
 cynical, travelled round, noting in quick succession 
 all those present, every one with a slight conscious- 
 ness of personal satisfaction in their own appearance, 
 every one so evidently full of his or her own success, 
 and then returned to Dolores's frank admiring eyes. 
 Just for a moment they paused there, and then he 
 glanced towards Virginia, as if to read there a reflec- 
 tion of his own thought, but Virginia was not look-
 
 INGELHEIM. 303 
 
 ing in that direction, she had also noted her brotlier's 
 entrance. 
 
 " Come, Jerome," she called, " come over here and 
 let us admire you." And obedient to her call he 
 came at once. 
 
 Dolores's fascinated eyes were still bent on him, 
 and Virginia, observing it, now added, as he ap- 
 proached, " Here is one, at least, who has only praise 
 to bestow, I am sure," and then she moved away, 
 leaving Dolores to answer for herself. 
 
 His Excellency did not go ; he waited to hear the 
 admiration put into words, the young shy voice say, 
 '' How beautiful ! I never imagined it would have 
 been so beautiful in reality : it was kind of you to 
 arrange for me to come ! " 
 
 " It did not require much arrangement," Jerome 
 said, kindly, " we were only too glad you should 
 come if you cared to." 
 
 He certainly was looking very handsome to-night ; 
 the rich velvet suited him, and enhanced the fairness 
 of his complexion. There was little to wonder at in 
 Dolores's admiring glances, and she had nothing else, 
 or but little else, to give. She was too much excited 
 to speak, could scarcely, indeed, think of appropriate 
 answers to his explanations of the dresses of those 
 present. 
 
 " Have you had any cofiee ? No ; well there is 
 still a quarter of an hour, plenty of time for us to 
 enjoy a cup. Come," and because he said " Come," 
 she followed him to the curtained recess, though eat-
 
 304 INGELHEIM. 
 
 imj, and drmkin2[ seemed as unnecessary and unsuit- 
 able as if in truth she were in fairyland. Until her 
 slight dark figure had disappeared by the side of 
 her brilliant companion, his Excellency watched her. 
 Virginia's voice disturbed his thoughts — 
 
 " His Excellency in a reverie. Already, I fear, 
 getting ready his criticisms." 
 
 " It is not, I admit, a suitable moment for think- 
 ing of unanswerable questions." 
 
 " And what is the question ? There may be an 
 answer, after all." 
 
 " Probably there is," he replied, " but we are all 
 too young, or too old, to give it. Which is the 
 sadder, hope or experience ? I was just deciding that 
 outwardly, at least, experience has a way of seeming 
 the sadder of the two,— but T doubt it really." 
 
 "Yes, you are right," Virginia retorted, quickly, 
 " we are all too old or too young ; — because Hope has 
 always been dead and buried for years, before we 
 realise that Experience has taken his place. I am 
 getting ready a few trite sayings for to-night," she 
 added, after a moment's almost . imperceptible pause, 
 " that is the duty of a gipsy, to convert truisms into 
 personalities." 
 
 " Yes," assented his Excellency, "it is wonderful 
 how commonplaces are always new, if they only fit 
 our peculiar case. I suppose because we all imagine 
 we are different from every one else, and are surprised 
 to find that previous experiences fit our own." 
 
 " It is gratifying, of course, to believe we are ex-
 
 INGELIIEIM. 305 
 
 ceptions, instead of just the same as our neighbours ! 
 Ah, here is Monsieur Desprez ! ISTow that we are 
 all assembled, I suppose we ought to be starting. 
 And what do you think of me with my added years ? 
 Do I carry them well ? " 
 
 " I am told it is you, Miss Shore," M. Desprez 
 replied, " but even yet I hesitate to believe the 
 evidence of my eyes." 
 
 " I did not believe mine," his Excellency interpo- 
 lated ; "it took the additional evidence of my ears 
 to convince me." 
 
 '•' His Excellency is going as the Diplomat, the Stage 
 Diplomat," Virginia explained, "and is reading up 
 the character. The right word in the right place — 
 and you, M. Desprez, I see, have adopted the costume 
 of Maitre Longeau." 
 
 For M. Desprez had chosen to represent a well- 
 known character in one of his own operettas, that had 
 been the delight of Ingelheim during the previous 
 winter. 
 
 " It is very becoming," she added, " which I am 
 afraid mine is not ; but then mine is a disguise, which 
 yours is not." 
 
 So saying, she pulled her tall hat closer over her 
 forehead, put on a pair of great brass-rimmed spec- 
 tacles, stooped a little more under her dark cloak, 
 and leaning on her stick, took a step nearer to 
 him. 
 
 " Miss Shore," ]\I. Desprez exclaimed, enthusiasti- 
 cally, " wliy don't you go on the stage ? It is a waste 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 30G INGELHEIM. 
 
 of talent for you to be anywhere else. Don't you 
 agree, Excellency ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is not wasted," his Excellency returned. 
 "It is a talent that is needed everywhere. But we 
 must be going, at least I must." 
 
 " I suppose it is getting late," Virginia said, resum- 
 ing her natural voice and manner. " M. Desprez, we 
 must say good night to your young ladies. Ah, here 
 comes one," as Dolores, Jerome still by her side, 
 approached them. 
 
 " How does your pupil get on ? " his Excellency 
 asked. 
 
 " Well, well. She is going to be the comfort of 
 my old age." 
 
 "And do you expect," Virginia asked, looking 
 critically at the young glad face, which reflected so 
 clearly the joy and satisfaction of the moment — " do 
 you expect to make an actress of her as well as a 
 singer ? " 
 
 " It must be done," M. Desprez replied, " but I 
 allow it will be hard work. Now, why, why 
 are not talents granted where they are so much 
 needed ? " 
 
 "Persuade Miss Shore to give her lessons," sug- 
 gested his Excellency. 
 
 "You flatter," she retorted, "but I love flattery, 
 and am immediately inclined to try. Though one 
 may know a great deal without being able to teach 
 it." 
 
 " But example," his Excellency murmured, " don't
 
 IXGELHEIM. 307 
 
 leave that out of the question. Example is pro- 
 verbially better than precept." 
 
 " They are talking about you — or us," Jerome 
 observed ; and then, when he noted the quick shade 
 of anxiety in Dolly's eyes, " As we have not done 
 anything wrong, we have the sure consolation of 
 knowing that it is a chorus of praise. I suppose 
 the truth is we ought to go, for Virginia has to be 
 in the ballroom by ten." 
 
 " You see in me a new taskmaster," Virginia said 
 gaily, as they approached. " M. Desprez is so over- 
 come by my stage talents that he has asked me to 
 give you lessons. So now, Dolores, to do me credit 
 you will have to become an actress." 
 
 "Limit your instructions to the stage," his Ex- 
 cellency added. 
 
 The colour came and went quickly in Dolores's 
 cheeks as she met Virginia's half - laughing gaze, 
 and became aware of his Excellency's quiet critical 
 look. Answers always came slowly to her, and to 
 Virginia's speeches she often found it impossible to 
 reply — words seemed to require so much forethought 
 to speak to one who so embodied perfection. 
 
 " I don't think " she began, falteringly. 
 
 Jerome was aware directly, with quick sympathy, 
 of her shifting colour and faltering voice. " Lessons," 
 he interposed, "fancy talking of lessons to-night, 
 when we are all enjoying ourselves. Virginia is so 
 fond of teaching," he went on, confidentially, " that 
 she is always longing to get hold of a new pupil.
 
 308 INGELHEIM. 
 
 Now, if she will only devote some of her spare 
 time and abundant energies to teaching you, I 
 suppose I shall escape." 
 
 His ready w^ords relieved the nervous silence. 
 M. Desprez, perhaps also conscious of the state of 
 affairs, added kindly, ''Whoever teaches Dolores 
 will find her a very willing little pupil," touching 
 her hand kindly as he spoke. " We gladly give her 
 holidays, because we know she won't abuse them. 
 But it is bedtime, I am sure, except for revellers." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I am sure it is." 
 
 Virginia gathered her cloak about her and resumed 
 her stoop, and with a slight wave of her hand to 
 those around, and a nod and a smile to Dolores, 
 turned away. In the general move that followed, 
 Jerome placed Dolores's hand on his arm. 
 
 " I will take you to your carriage first," he said, 
 " there is plenty of time." 
 
 With M. Desprez and Eniilie following, he took 
 her down the private staircase which led to these 
 rooms. It was entirely deserted, every one was 
 busy in the other part of the Palace. 
 
 All the way Dolores was trying to frame some 
 grateful words for the kindness that had given her 
 this enchanted hour ; but it was only when they had 
 reached the carriage that she was able to stammer 
 out some inconsequent unsatisfactory words. 
 
 They were alone ; Emilie and M. Desprez still 
 lingered above, speaking some last words.
 
 IXGELIIEIM. 309 
 
 He put her into tlic carriage, and it came over 
 him again, as it did now and then, that one day 
 she would be a very pretty woman ; as it was, the 
 soft eyes and delicate oval face were very winning. 
 "Don't say 'thank you,' please," he said, "or else 
 I must say it back, because I have enjoyed it also 
 very mucli. I wish — shall I tell you what I wish ? " 
 resting his hand on the window-frame, " well, I 
 wish that you were coming this evening." 
 
 She gave a little pleased sigh at the idea, such a 
 vague impossible idea, and yet it was delightful to 
 hear it expressed. 
 
 She was not shy with him, no one ever was, as he 
 had himself told her. 
 
 " Would it not be delightful ? " she said, leaning a 
 little further forward. " But it would not be much 
 use," she added, "because I don't know how to 
 dance." 
 
 " But that is very wrong, and must be set right at 
 once. I'll tell you what, after Virginia has given 
 you Jicr lessons, whatever they may be, we must 
 have dancing lessons — and then you will be ready 
 for the next ball." 
 
 She gave a little low laugli at the words, and at 
 the same moment M. Desprez appeared. 
 
 " Captain Shore, you ought not to be here," he 
 said, "you will be late. Miss Shore has gone on." 
 
 "Fortunately, my costume does not require me 
 to limp, and crawl, and stoop, and do thousands of
 
 310 INGELHEIM. 
 
 things to wliicli I am imaccustoiDed : I shall be tliere 
 as soon as she is. Good night/' with a bow that 
 included them all, but after he had so said, and 
 had half turned away, he looked back, and stretching 
 out his hand, took Dolores's slight fingers in his, 
 and " Good niiiht," he said a^ain.
 
 311 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Decisive action is seen by appreciative minds to be fi'equently ob- 
 jectless, and sometimes fatal ; but decision, however suicidal, lias more 
 charm for a woman than the most equivocal Fabian success." 
 
 Elevex o'clock had struck. The ballroom of the 
 Palace was a brilliant scene, as in the soft shaded 
 light the company danced in their quaint dresses, 
 watched and commented on by those who stood aloof. 
 Amongst these was the Princess, who, as a rule, never 
 danced ; but to-night etiquette was a little relaxed, 
 and although it was an open secret who was the lady 
 so closely veiled, yet for the moment there was sup- 
 posed to be ignorance on the subject. At midnight, 
 when supper would be served, it was understood that 
 all masks were to be removed. In the meantime, 
 there were the usual mistakes and discomfitures 
 likely to arise on such occasions. 
 
 For a little while all these contretemios had amused 
 the Princess : the secrets of those present had been 
 mostly discovered for lier by Virginia, who, wander- 
 ing about in her gipsy guise, unrecognised by nearly 
 every one, had proved a ready source of amusement.
 
 312 INGELHEIM. 
 
 But Virginia had disappeared, and the Princess, un- 
 accustomed to walking alone, felt nervous about 
 leaving her present position and starting on a tour 
 of inspection. Though reflection told her that, after 
 all, where she was, in a gallery that overlooked the 
 ballroom, she only needed to take the initiative, and 
 ask some passing cavalier for his escort ; movement 
 would certainly be better than sitting here, with 
 nothing pleasanter to think of than the troubles of 
 life. The glamour of light and excitement was on 
 all present ; seen from the outside it seemed to her 
 that every one was happy except herself, that in 
 some way she was standing alone outside the warmth 
 and companionsliip of life, and that its secret of 
 happiness was denied to her alone. 
 
 Sweeping over her came a sudden, wild, unreason- 
 ing terror of the future ; in a momentary panic she 
 saw herself grown older, her beauty faded, left alone, 
 the attraction of youth and loveliness a mere memory, 
 and with the thought came an echo of the passionate 
 voice to which she had refused to listen. Banish it 
 as she might, there were moments when it would 
 make itself heard. In the silence of the night, some- 
 times even as she played with her child — there seemed 
 no security left for her anywhere. It was speaking 
 now, through the strains of the music and the mur- 
 mur of many voices, through everything alike it was 
 distinctly audible. She roused herself impatiently, 
 unconsciously framing indignant replies to the haunt- 
 ing tones which she had banished, forbidden a hear-
 
 INGELHEIM. 313 
 
 iiig for uvermorc ; and with the intention of divert- 
 ing her mind, leant forward, resting her arms on the 
 velvet-covered balnstrade, and looked down on to the 
 crowd below. The valse was over, the strains of 
 music had given i)lace to the murmur of voices ; 
 standing where she stood, there was a good view 
 to be obtained of the dancers as they made their 
 way towards the conservatories and cooler rooms 
 beyond. 
 
 Thus idly watching, she began giving names to the 
 passers-by; with Virginia's hints to help, it was not 
 very difficult, and the comments of two ladies seated 
 near her were also an assistance. They were both 
 alike dressed in black, not young, she guessed from 
 voice and figure, but in their Spanish mantillas and 
 small masks they were too much disguised for recog- 
 nition. Tlieir words and comments amused her ; it 
 was evident that she herself was unrecoonised, for 
 she caught one whispered question, " Do you know 
 the dress of the Princess ? " 
 
 " No, but I have been told that later on she will 
 appear as the ' Grey Lady.' " 
 
 She smiled as she thought of the complications a 
 suggestion of Virginia's quick brain was likely to 
 give rise to, and the thought roused her. It was not 
 to stand thus aloof from the unaccustomed freedom 
 and brightness that she had disguised herself in her 
 present sober Puritan attire ; her bright blond hair, 
 so easily recognisable, safely hidden away under a 
 cap, a velvet mask further securing her from recog-
 
 314 INGELHEIM. 
 
 nition. The dance just over was a good moment for 
 joining unperceived with those leaving the ballroom: 
 the narrow staircase that led from the gallery ter- 
 minated close by the ballroom door. 
 
 Turning away, her eyes once more fell carelessly 
 on those below; the room was now much emptier, 
 those who were left were wandering about in couples: 
 one tall man's figure, standing close to the doorway, 
 was conspicuous in its solitariness. 
 
 Clothed in black from head to foot, there was, 
 despite the carefully hidden features and long 
 domino, something familiar abont the figure which 
 attracted her, and made her look again. A moment- 
 ary passing resemblance, of course, that was all ; but 
 it was sufficiently strong to make her linger, and to 
 quicken her heart-beats as she leant against the 
 balcony. 
 
 He did not move. Half hidden by a long draping 
 curtain, he stood motionless amid the surrounding 
 movement, as if he were only a spectator, and held 
 no part in the entertainment. Then suddenly he 
 stirred, as if only just realising the dance was over, 
 and that his position so close to the doorway was an 
 inconvenient one, and took a step away, and as he 
 did so, with a quick movement he drew his dark 
 cloak closer about him. Just a swift momentary 
 gesture, but it rendered visible to the watching eyes 
 above a plain dark ring on the slender hand. 
 
 She started then, stood upright with swift deter- 
 mination, the red forsaking cheeks and lips as she
 
 INGELHEIM. 315 
 
 glanced nervously round to recognise with a glad 
 sense of freedom that she stood alone, that no one 
 was at hand to comment on her actions or wonder at 
 her emotion. 
 
 He was here, there was no longer any room for 
 doubt. He had ventured here for her sake, of that 
 surely there was also no doubt, though after all there 
 was a doubt deep down in her heart, only she would 
 not listen to it — not now, not now ! For these few 
 moments let her think of him as braving this for 
 her sake, and if such were the case, then the choice 
 wdiich had once before been hers to make, and which 
 had seemingly passed into the irrevocable, might 
 now be recalled and reconsidered. 
 
 "Calmly, freely, let me think," she said. Calmly, 
 with the tumult of her heart deafening all other 
 sounds, except the memory of that passionate voice 
 which she had determined to forget. " There is no 
 doubt " — so clearly the words sounded, that she almost 
 fancied she must be saying them aloud — " there is 
 no doubt, — I cannot live without him." 
 
 Still with wildly beating heart and quick-coming 
 breath, she rose and looked again where he had 
 stood, but he had disappeared — and even as she 
 looked, a little tinklincj clock behind her chimed 
 the quarter. Time that the " Grey Lady " appeared : 
 in such a life, the rules of life are habits not lightly 
 put aside, she turned to seek her own apartments, 
 there was an entrance from the gallery. After all, 
 it was but postponing those words she meant to say.
 
 316 INGELHEIM. 
 
 His disguise would be no disguise for her, probably 
 hers none for him. Did not every one know the 
 costume in which she was to appear. It had been 
 whispered, she was certain, far beyond the Palace 
 gates. 
 
 That quick gesture that had betrayed his secret 
 to the watching eyes above, had told it to another. 
 Virginia Shore, loitering by the doorway, had also 
 noted the solitary figure standing apart from the 
 world, taking no share in its revels, and had won- 
 dered for a moment who he might be. A momentary 
 wonderment, relieved a second later by that passing 
 glimpse of the fateful ring. 
 
 " So this was the secret," thus ran her thoughts, 
 "that they had been keeping from her." It had 
 been his own wish of course that she should be kept 
 in ignorance of his presence here, Jerome had merely 
 obeyed ; but it annoyed her to think that he should 
 have succeeded, and that the only secret of any im- 
 portance under this roof to-night should have escaped 
 her. But not for long : it was hers now, and with a 
 secret in one's possession, one is always sure of hav- 
 ing gained something. " How incautious men are ! " 
 she thought, and something about the boldness of 
 the action won from her unwilling admiration. This 
 she felt sure was no design of Jerome's, probably 
 he did not even know of his presence to-night. 
 " Did the Princess know ? " she wondered. " Well, 
 she would soon find out." So confident was she of
 
 IXGELHEIM. 317 
 
 her own disguise, that she felt little fear of his recog- 
 nising her. She drew a step nearer, and in a quaver- 
 ing voice asked, " AVould the gentleman like to learn 
 his fortune ? " 
 
 She spoke in French, and for a moment he did not 
 seem to realise her words were addressed to him. 
 But when she repeated her sentence, he echoed, 
 " Like ? No, I don't think I should like it." 
 
 '' The gentleman fears it," she said, insinuatingly, 
 " but let me read it all the same. But not here ; 
 this way," turning into a conservatory dimly lit with 
 Chinese lanterns, " in here, where no one will over- 
 hear us." 
 
 He followed her obediently in silence, until she 
 paused in a dark shadowy corner, where for the 
 moment they were virtually alone, the only sound 
 the rippling of a small fountain amongst the flowers. 
 
 " You must tell me something good, Mother," he 
 said, lightly. 
 
 " Cross my hand with what you value most," she 
 said, extending hers, cleverly browned and wrinkled, 
 " and I will do my best." 
 
 '' I will try to bribe Fortune ; this is the most 
 valuable thing I have about rne," and so saying, 
 laid in her hand a queer old coin. 
 
 " l)Ut not that which you value most," she said, 
 quietly, looking at it. " It is French ? " 
 
 " Yes, and you also, I think," ignoring her other 
 words. 
 
 " And why, T wonder ? "
 
 318 INGELHEIM. 
 
 " It is the land of clever women." 
 
 " And you think it is a sign of cleverness to guess 
 that a man would not offer that which he values 
 most to bribe Fortune. Fortune is a woman, sir, 
 and every man knows that he need not offer even to 
 her his best." 
 
 " Fortune is a woman. Mother, you are riglit. It 
 is foolish, therefore, not to try and bribe her." 
 
 " Yes," she assented, " and, like other women, she 
 knows that which you hold back. JBut give me 
 your hand, no, the left." She bent her head lower 
 over it, but the ring was gone. Probably he had 
 recalled by how many it might be recognised, and 
 had withdrawn it. But the hand itself there was 
 no mistaking — supple, slender, brown, she could 
 have sworn to it anywhere. 
 
 " It is an unlucky hand, I am afraid," he said ; " I 
 don't think the best wishes in the world will make 
 it otherwise. But, as you suggest, bribery may 
 succeed where good wishes would not." 
 
 " I have no wishes," she replied, " good or bad ; I 
 am as impartial as Fate." 
 
 " Do not say so, pray, for Fate is my enemy." 
 
 " If so, you braved a very powerful enemy in 
 coming here to-night." 
 
 He started, and drawing his hand away, peered 
 at her more closely in the dim light, but the croucli- 
 ing, bunched-up form under the shrouding cloak was 
 impossible of identification.
 
 IXGELHEIM. 319 
 
 But at that nervous glance round, " Do not fear," 
 she said, in the same low voice ; " very often the 
 tones we attribute to Fate are merely the echo of 
 our own fears." 
 
 " You are a witch indeed, I believe," he said, with 
 an uneasy laugh. " Is your name a secret ? " bend- 
 ing nearer. 
 
 " More secret than yours," she answered, calmly. 
 
 " If you know so much," he said, quickly, " you 
 know all." 
 
 " I have old eyes, sharpened, not dulled with age, 
 and they have told me a great deal. They have 
 betrayed to me many secrets here to-night, hidden 
 from those younger, — even yours, carefully guarded 
 as you thought it was." 
 
 For a second he was silent, and then speaking 
 hurriedly, " Are you a friend or an enemy ? " lie 
 asked. 
 
 " To unmask is de rigueur later on — you can then 
 judge. It is dc rigtieur for all," she added, signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 "Yes." But he was not heeding, liis eyes were 
 bent' on the ground. He was thinking, trying to 
 recall the voice, whicli, though disguised, had yet a 
 familiar rinj^-. There was the slightest rustle, al- 
 most inaudible through the sounds of those moving 
 about and the ripple of the fountains, and looking 
 up, it was to find that she had disappeared. " Miss 
 Shore ! " Like an electric fiasli the name shot into
 
 320 INGELHEBr. 
 
 his brain. " Of course." Instinctively he hated the 
 thought that she should have discovered his pres- 
 ence, but he had no doubt of her identity, from the 
 first moment he was assured. 
 
 " AVhat use would she make of her knowledge ? " 
 Some intuition prompted him to the consciousness 
 that she would not betray him — that her discovery 
 would merely serve to amuse and interest her, and 
 the recognition of the fact made him wince as if in 
 pain. 
 
 But she had served to remind him of one fact, 
 and that was that he must make his escape soon, or 
 he ran every chance of discovery ; though first, at 
 any cost, he must discover the disguise of the one 
 woman he had come to see. He had half a mind 
 now to brave everything, and ask Jerome, but the 
 fear of complications, and of Jerome's complicity in 
 his presence being suspected, stopped him. And he 
 was entirely ignorant. No one knew — no one had 
 known, at any rate, until Virginia had discovered 
 him. 
 
 He had avoided every one ; profiting by Jerome's 
 previous conversations, he had been enabled to recog- 
 nise most of his friends, and now probably he had 
 missed his best chance, for if any one could have en- 
 lightened him on what he wanted to know, it would 
 have been Virginia. AVith the swiftly passing time 
 he felt himself growing reckless. What difference 
 could it make now ? Well, the only thing was to seek
 
 IXGELHEIM. 321 
 
 out Miss Shore again — she was easily discoverable — 
 and ask her to tell him. But he sought in vain. 
 The gipsy had vanished, not a trace of her could he 
 discover, though he looked for her in every room. 
 
 But at last Fortune favoured him — a few words 
 of conversation reached his ears, and gave him the 
 clue for which he souoht. 
 
 "The Princess." He caught the words and 
 turned his head. " As the ' Grey Lady,' " the voice 
 went on. " Oh no, there is very little secret about 
 it. Every one knows it. Miss Shore told me. She 
 is to appear at midnight." 
 
 "Very uncanny," her companion said, "but w^e 
 may as well go and await the apparition." And 
 at a little distance the dark - clad figure followed 
 them. 
 
 Up-stairs in her room, the finishing touches given 
 to her dress, her maids dismissed, the Princess still 
 lingered, trying to moderate the sense of reckless- 
 ness that possessed her, and which for the moment 
 made her willing to believe she was ready to give 
 up all for love. Such love as her ill - regulated 
 passion-tossed heart was now experiencing. Am- 
 bition previously had won the victory, in such a 
 nature a strong, hard - fought, hard - won victory ; 
 but now the sudden reaction from the long silence 
 and absence had wrought a swift change in her 
 mode of thought. It was of all she would gain, 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 322 INGELHEIM. 
 
 not of all she would have to give up, she was 
 thinking to-night. 
 
 She drew near to the tall mirror, and through 
 the shrouding draperies of her disguise looked at 
 herself, a faint, shadowy, " Grey Lady," by a cun- 
 ning adjustment of shrouding veils, her face almost 
 invisible, in truth, a ghostly figure. Standing thus, 
 she lifted the veil, and for a moment looked into 
 the blue eyes that looked back at her, no longer 
 restless and discontented, but burning and pas- 
 sionate. 
 
 A beautiful woman— in the full lioht which fell 
 on the crown of red-gold hair ; on the delicate con- 
 tour of the clieeks, where, for the moment, was a 
 faint tinge of unaccustomed colour, on the rich 
 outlines of her fiGfure. 
 
 A woman, outwardly at least, well worth a man's 
 love ; a woman not likely to offer love in vain. 
 Some such thought flashed through her mind, the 
 colour deepened a little on her cheeks, a quick sigh 
 parted her lips. She dropped the veil, drawing its 
 thick folds together across her face with her hand, 
 and turned to the door. 
 
 The great hall — out of which rose the principal 
 staircase, lined with flowers, amid which showed the 
 gleam of marble figures — was to-night the chief 
 meeting-place outside the ballroom, which was en- 
 tered from one side of it, a conservatory from the 
 other. Amongst its orange - trees and myrtles, at
 
 INGELHEIM. 323 
 
 the foot of the staircase, his Excellency stood watch- 
 ing the scene around, now and then exchanging 
 comments with those he recognised, or random 
 words with some mask, whose disguise he had failed 
 to penetrate. 
 
 It was here, in the company of the foreign Prince, 
 he was to await the arrival of the Princess, who, 
 after changing her dress, was to descend by the 
 private stairway and join them, for the purpose of 
 opening the supper-room. 
 
 The time was drawing near, and he moved over 
 to the entrance to the stairway to be ready ; stand- 
 ing thus, he was just opposite the conservatory. 
 The wide doors were open ; from the cool semi- 
 dark shade beyond came a delicious fragrant per- 
 fume of jessamine and oranges, a breath of coolness 
 into the hot air outside, in its half-lit depths showed 
 the vague colours of flowers. For the moment all 
 was still ; the dancers had returned to the ballroom, 
 distant valse strains had recommenced, alone, not 
 far from where he was waiting, motionless almost 
 as the form of the knight in armour by which he 
 stood, was the figure of a man. Waiting also, so it 
 seemed to his Excellency, and he looked at him, 
 idly wondering for whom. Xot for long. Suddenly, 
 between him and the mail-clad knight, so suddenly 
 that he had no time to wonder how or whence, 
 there appeared the figure of a shrouded veiled wo- 
 man, so closely veiled that nothing was visible but
 
 324 mGELHEIM. 
 
 the outline of her form, and a hand claspmg the 
 folds of the veil before her face. In the half-light 
 of the place there was something vague and ghostly 
 in her movements. 
 
 She glided nearer to the man then. Did she speak, 
 or only beckon with her hand ? It was impossible 
 to tell, but if there were doubt about her words, 
 there was none about liis. Every syllable reached 
 the listener's ears, as the man bent his head, but 
 his voice, though low and unsteady, was clear 
 enough. 
 
 " Do you know who I am ? " There was no 
 reply except a slight affirmative movement of the 
 head, and the grey figure passed away into the 
 shadow^ of the conservatory, the man closely fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 The voice, the figure, his Excellency was so be- 
 wildered by all they revealed, that for a second he 
 stood as if just awaked from dreaming, and then 
 the realisation of the woman's disguise occurring to 
 him, it was with a quick startled look that he turned 
 towards the staircase. " Had she for whom he 
 waited passed him unawares ? " No, no need to ask. 
 Facing him on the lowest stair stood just such 
 another veiled figure as had but now passed before 
 him, but this time the veil was lifted. Not to look 
 at him — no, the wild despair which met his glance 
 was not for him ; he was unseen, unnoticed at least, 
 by those eyes that followed those two disappearing
 
 INGELHEIM. 325 
 
 forms. Only for a moment that glimpse of passion- 
 ate despair, then the veil was dropped, and her hand 
 had clasped his arm, something of the agony he had 
 seen perceptible in its nervous grasp, something of 
 it also in the low hoarse word, "Wait." 
 
 He waited as she bade him, quietly, silently, the 
 soft melody of the valse coming softened by distance, 
 and the quickened breathing of the woman by his 
 side the only sounds. He knew how she was shaken 
 by the throbbing of her pulses, that shook the hand 
 on his arm, the laces that shrouded her. 
 
 He did not quite interpret the riddle aright ; he 
 was too startled, too agitated himself to do so, and 
 besides he did not know all. 
 
 He thought he recognised warring pride and 
 unavowed love struggling over the fact of his pres- 
 ence here, uncertain by which name to call it. He 
 did not know of the stormy battle her passionate 
 nature had been so lately fighting — and all the story 
 those few overheard words had revealed. 
 
 " Excellency," at last she spoke, her voice was low 
 but quite steady. " You promised once," — and then, 
 altering her sentence, " His presence here in my own 
 house is an insult, which I shall never forgive." 
 
 " It is a folly. Princess," the old man replied, " of 
 which none of his friends were aware." 
 
 " An insult," she repeated, coldly. She had put 
 back her veil, and the feverish colour on her cheeks, 
 and the light in her eyes contradicted the calmness
 
 326 IXGELHEIM. 
 
 of her words, " and to you I must give the unpleasant 
 task of telling him so. My house is only open to 
 my friends. Also at the same time please let it be 
 known that the hour for unmasking^ has come. The 
 Prince is ready; I fear I have kept him waiting." 
 
 Life must be lived anyhow — at high or low pres- 
 sure ; its moments of torture as those of its highest 
 happiness, and generally, to accompany its supreme 
 moments, is some trivial necessity to be accom- 
 plished. 
 
 That evening, with its talk and laughter and music 
 and light, was part of the discipline of life to the 
 Princess : perhaps she had never had so entirely to 
 lay self aside, pride alone demanded it, but it was not 
 pride that spoke loudest, when at last, her part played 
 out, she was once more alone,, where earlier in the 
 evening she had looked in the mirror at her own 
 beauty. 'No, pride was pushed aside by bitter, heart- 
 rending jealousy. She had renounced, but not for 
 this, and her own fears had prophesied it long ago. 
 Despite their intimacy, there was no cordiality in 
 her relations with Virginia Shore. The world was 
 right that credited her with fearing Virginia's clear- 
 seeing eyes and unsparing tongue. 
 
 But to say we have wrought our own w^oe is not a 
 road by which to escape its consequences. Mingling 
 with the angry hurt pride and cruel jealousy, was a 
 more womanly sensation of despair, that she had 
 allowed the best to pass her by. Not the furious
 
 iNGELHEnr. 327 
 
 passion of the other night, when he had stolen in 
 upon her solitude and forced her to listen to his 
 words, only a sense of desolation at the thought of 
 her own loneliness, which brought painful tears to 
 her eyes. Pity jealousy — it needs pity ; it is only 
 love become unmanageable, and is pitiable, like any 
 other passion that has passed beyond control. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
 
 •^^■■ih 
 
 tiNV^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 420206