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 .«A**«i«- 
 
 
 I 
 
 \
 
 DID SHE LOVE HIM?
 
 LONDON : 
 KOBSON AND SO>:S, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.
 
 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 % gobel. 
 
 By JAMES GRANT, ^ 
 
 AUrilOll OF ' THE UOMAXCE OF "WAR,* ' UNDKK THE IlED DRAGON,* ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: \ 
 
 TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8 CATHERINE ST., STRAND. | 
 
 1876. . 
 
 [All rights reserved.] j
 
 G- TL HcLk 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 s 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 ( 
 
 I. 
 
 • 
 
 II. 
 
 
 III. 
 
 • 
 
 IV. 
 
 
 V. 
 
 \ 
 
 VI. 
 
 
 VII. 
 
 f 
 
 VIII. 
 
 
 IX. 
 
 
 X. 
 
 4^ 
 
 XI. 
 
 4» 
 
 XII. 
 
 i 
 
 XIII. 
 
 ?j 
 
 XIV. 
 
 
 XV. 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 s 
 
 XVI. 
 
 c^ 
 
 XVII. 
 
 t^ XVIII. 
 
 •t 
 
 XIX. 
 
 i" 
 
 XX. 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 L 
 
 
 
 
 
 page: 
 
 In Park Lane i 
 
 Wheels within Wheels 
 
 
 
 II 
 
 In the Eow .... 
 
 
 
 28 
 
 The Fateful Hour 
 
 
 
 . 4^ 
 
 What occurred at ' the Eag' 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 Thaneshurst 
 
 
 
 75 
 
 The Progress of True Love, &c. 
 
 
 
 • 83 
 
 The Kiding Party 
 
 
 
 106 
 
 The Prince of Wales's own Hu.s 
 
 SARS 
 
 
 . 117 
 
 How Tom '■ c ame to Grief' . 
 
 
 
 130 
 
 What Mabel's Alarm elicited . 
 
 
 
 143 
 
 The Patient 
 
 
 
 153 
 
 Pique 
 
 
 
 168 
 
 From Brighton to Bhotan^ . 
 
 
 
 . 178 
 
 Cousin Alf makes up his Mind . 
 
 
 
 ■ 205 
 
 How Mr. Brooke blunder:-: d 
 
 
 
 218 
 
 Stanley's Resolve 
 
 
 
 . 230 
 
 Unstable .... 
 
 
 
 ■ 245 
 
 The White Camellia . 
 
 
 
 . 254 
 
 The Hussar Ball 
 
 
 
 267
 
 DID SHE LOYE HIM? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN PARK LANE. 
 
 *She is the handsomest girl in the room!' 
 exclaimed Tom Seymour emphatically. 
 
 ' Bar one,' replied his friend, smiling. 
 
 ' Bar none, Stanley. Mabel Brooke is the 
 dearest girl in the room — if not in all Lon- 
 don.' 
 
 ^ To you, of course ; yet I agree with you 
 that she is lovely.' 
 
 ' That fellow always wishes to monopolise 
 too much of her time, though.' 
 
 ^ He is only her cousin, Alf Foxley.' 
 
 'A thorough fox in character,' said Sey- 
 mour, knitting his brows; ^moreover, his 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 position as cousin at times puts him a devilish 
 deal too much in my way.' 
 
 It was at a crowded ball, one of the last of 
 a gay London season, and in one of those 
 stately mansions about a musket-shot distant 
 from the Marble Arch, that these remarks 
 were made ; and the speakers were Tom Sey- 
 mour and Rowland Stanley, a captain of the 
 Line, who, in the recess of a window, were 
 glancing from time to time at their engage- 
 ment-cards, watching the dancers, and con- 
 fidinsr to each other their admiration for and 
 their hopes concerning two of the fairest 
 there; for they were bosom friends, great 
 chums, had been schoolfellows at Harrow in 
 former times, and though the professional 
 avocations of the soldier often separated them, 
 they always met again with emotions of strong 
 regard for each other. 
 
 Both were more than average good-looking 
 young fellows, of a type that is thoroughly 
 and peculiarly English: Seymour was fair- 
 complexioned and sanguine in temperament, 
 with clear blue eyes ; while Stanley was dark,
 
 IN PARK LANE. 
 
 his handsome face, like his neck, well browned 
 by a tropical sun, was closely shaven, all save 
 a smart thick brown moustache, while his 
 curly pate was closely shorn to the regimental 
 pattern, and, though in accurate full-dress 
 ' mufti,' there was no mistaking him for any- 
 thing else than what he was, an easy-going 
 and light-hearted young English officer. 
 
 ' I see that your eyes follow Miss AUing- 
 ham everywhere,' said Seymour, laughing. 
 
 ^Who is that fellow with whom she is 
 dancing — I had almost said coquetting ?' asked 
 Stanley. 
 
 ' Val Keynolds, of the Guards. He had 
 the handsomest drag in the Hyde Park pro- 
 cession of the Four-in-Hand Club at the end 
 of May last.' '" 
 
 * Probably his chief recommendation in 
 this world.' 
 
 ^To West-end mammas, especially,' said 
 Seymour, with the slightest bitterness of tone. 
 
 ^ He has all the self-assured look of a man 
 about town.' 
 
 ' And on the occasion I refer to, his mag-
 
 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 niiicent team of grays and his mode of hand- 
 ling the ribbons won him great applause. By 
 the way, you rather affect the fair AUingham, 
 I think.' 
 
 Stanley's honest sunburnt face reddened 
 slightly as he said : 
 
 ^I have never made a secret of that to 
 you, Tom.' 
 
 ' She is the greatest flirt in the room.' 
 
 ^Come, come, Tom, don't say so,' said 
 Stanley, giving his moustache an angry twirl. 
 
 ' Fact, my dear fellow ; I spent a month 
 with her at Thaneshurst, Brooke's place in 
 Sussex, and know how she dotes on admira- 
 tion.' 
 
 ^ A month ! and yet, with all the facilities 
 of a country-house, you did not fall in love 
 with her ?' 
 
 ^ You forget that Mabel Brooke was there,' 
 «aid Seymour, with something of sadness or 
 irritation in his tone. 
 
 ' Both girls are indeed beautiful,' remarked 
 Stanley ; ' (by the way, I have not yet seen 
 her mamma to-night, the crowd is so great,)
 
 IN PARK LANE. 
 
 and if they seem so to all, what must they be 
 to me^ who have so lately been among the 
 brown women — the sallow Eurasians and the 
 bleached Europeans of Hindostan.' 
 
 And while the friends conversed thus, the 
 dancers were whirling in the Avaltz under a 
 flood of light from the crystal chandeliers, 
 and the music of the quadrille band seemed to 
 fill the whole of the great house with melody. 
 
 The object of Tom Seymours admiration 
 was one whom sensational novels would de- 
 scribe as a beautiful ^ being,' yet she was a 
 thoroughly practical little fairy, whose earthly 
 name was Mabel Brooke, but the style of 
 whose beauty it is difiicult to describe. It 
 was a sweet soft Saxon kind; the shape of her 
 head, the grace of her neck and shoulders, the 
 little tricks of manner with her ' quick small 
 hand' were all perfect, while her whole air was 
 gentle, refined, and charming ; but her wealth 
 placed her upon a kind of throne or pedestal 
 far above Seymour : he could only worship at 
 a distance. A clerk in the City, well born but 
 poor, he felt tongue-tied and helpless, yet that
 
 6 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 month at Thaneshurst had changed the whole 
 current of his existence. 
 
 Her friend Milly Allingham was very 
 different in bearing from Mabel. She was 
 prouder in manner, more reserved at times, 
 sometimes leaving gentlemen in doubt as to 
 whether they had offended her. She was a 
 dark -eyed beauty, with rich brown hair and 
 features approaching the aquiline. She was 
 stately and queenlike, or swanlike, in every 
 action ; thus these, all unstudied as they were, 
 became somehow statuesque ; yet her pride of 
 bearing belied her, for she was not less child- 
 like in grace or less warm-hearted and impul- 
 sive than her ' gossip' Mabel Brooke. 
 
 They had an exceedingly schoolgirl plea 
 for friendship and romantic af&nity — the im- 
 portant facts of both being only daughters, 
 and both having been born on the same day, 
 though miles apart; for the hazel eyes of 
 Milly first saw the light in her father's house 
 at Hyde-park Corner; and the violet-blue 
 orbs of Mabel somewhere nearer the sound 
 of Bow Bells than her mamma cared to re-
 
 IN PARK LANE. 7 
 
 member, now that she was Mrs. John Brooke, 
 of No. — Park Lane, and of Thaneshurst in 
 Sussex. 
 
 Both were girls of a highly-nervous tem- 
 perament or sensitive nature; thus they were 
 joyous, pliant, and kindly in heart; they could 
 feel sorrow and joy more keenly than many 
 that were around them. Both were rather 
 emotional ; tears would well in their eyes at 
 the relation of any deed of brilliant daring, 
 any event of deep sorroAV, a telling picture or 
 a touching song. Such things as these sufficed 
 to fill the hearts of both with soft sympathies 
 and vague yearnings; but as yet life was all 
 sunshine and a butterfly existence, a shadow- 
 less career, to Milly Allingham and Mabel 
 Brooke. 
 
 On this night in particular the aspect of 
 the stately house and all its surroundings 
 chilled the ardour and unnerved the heart of 
 Seymour; its long corridors with elaborate 
 pilasters, coloured lamps, and encaustic tiles; 
 the ceilings picked out in pink and gold; the 
 soft carpets, the white bearskins, and tall
 
 8 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 Sevres jars or Italian bronzes on marble 
 pedestals; the crowded ballroom, with its 
 West-end belles in all the glories of Swan and 
 Edgar, and such suites of flashing jewels as 
 Bond Street alone can produce ; while from 
 jardinieres of ormolu, blue and gold, came the 
 perfume of the hyacinth and rose, the violet 
 and myosotis ; and Tom sighed as he thought 
 of his own abode in a shabby boarding-house 
 in the vicinity of Harley Street ; nor could the 
 warm and honest greeting of his host, who 
 shook him heartily by the hand, reassure him, 
 though his father had been Mr. Brooke's oldest 
 and dearest friend. 
 
 ^ Seen Mrs. Brooke yet, Seymour ?' he asked. 
 
 The latter faintly said ' No.' 
 
 ' This way — here she is.' 
 
 And though Seymour had spent, on his 
 host's invitation, some weeks at their place in 
 the country, he approached Mrs. Brooke with 
 extreme diffidence to-night. 
 
 ' Martha dear, our friend Tom Seymour,* 
 said the old gentleman to his ample better 
 half, who was seated amid a group of matrons
 
 IN PARK LANE. 
 
 and chaperones; but * Martha dear' had re- 
 solved to seem only half-conscious of her young 
 guest's presence or existence. She gave a 
 barely perceptible movement of her head and 
 a toss of her glittering fan, as much as to say : 
 
 ' There, that will do ; now you may go and 
 join the dancers if you can get a partner.' 
 
 Seymour felt that her greeting was only 
 a kind of contemptuous snort, nothing more, 
 and very different from the brilliant ' company 
 smile' she accorded to Reynolds, the 'tail 
 Guardsman, and others, even to his friend 
 Stanley, who now presented himself pro forma. 
 Lofty, proud, fat, flat-footed, and naturally 
 imperious, all diamonds and satin without, 
 and empty vanity and ambition within, how, 
 thought Tom, had she ever such a daughter 
 as Mabel? 
 
 And ere long she saw him join her daugh- 
 ter, little wotting that on her card sundry 
 places had been specially kept vacant for his 
 name ; yet, with all her cold pride of manner, 
 Mrs. Brooke was a woman of good birth ; the 
 daughter of a very poor baronet, she had, as
 
 10 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 she thought, condescended in marrymg John 
 Brooke, the City man, to atone for which all 
 her ideas and energies were concentrated on 
 having a titled son-in-law ; and how she suc- 
 ceeded or failed we shall see. 
 
 But though a City man in tone and tem- 
 perament, her worthy spouse came of a good 
 old English family, though he recked little of 
 that ; thus it was no ostentation to see their 
 crest, a demi-seahorse, on everything, from the 
 silver forks to the buttons of the well-matched 
 footmen, when one could read that his ances- 
 tors had borne it on their helmets in many 
 a French and Scottish war. 
 
 He had married later in life than most 
 men usually do ; he was very stout, with a 
 bald head that shone like a billiard ball, 
 fringed by a circle of silver hair ; he had a 
 bright, benevolent, cheery face, with several 
 chins falling over his white necktie; and 
 indeed, with his amplitude of paunch, over 
 which a vest was curving, he might have 
 passed for the twin-brother of Mr. Mulbery, 
 his own butler.
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 
 
 About the same time that Rowland Stanley 
 claimed Miss Allingham, Seymour's heart had 
 quickened when, in reply to his half- audible 
 — * Our dance, I think, Miss Brooke ?' Mabel 
 put her arm through his, and gave him one 
 of her pretty caressing smiles, which he felt 
 very bewildering ; and she smoothed her 
 gloves on the prettiest of hands — a pair of 
 the most delicate kids, a beautiful box of 
 which she had thoughtlessly won from poor 
 Seymour at the last University boatrace, 
 when dark-blue and light-blue were all the 
 rage, and balconies at Chiswick were at a 
 premium, and Hammersmith Bridge rocked 
 perilously beneath its living freight. 
 
 She seemed so happy and so bright as she 
 leaned on the arm of her unacknowledged, or 
 rather unavowed, lover — clinging to him, as
 
 12 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 it were, at times breathless, flushed, and 
 fanning herself after their waltz — that who 
 could ever imascine her future should be a 
 dark one and full of tears ! 
 
 'You will leave town soon now, I pre- 
 sume ?' said he. 
 
 ' In a week, I believe ; but you will come 
 again to Thaneshurst, of course, Mr. Seymour ; 
 but I fear you find our circle a dull one down 
 in Sussex. Papa, though we live in a hunt- 
 ing county, cares nothing for horses; but 
 studies the money-article in the Times^ and 
 talks only about 'Change and Mincing Lane, 
 as if he still went to that odious office in the 
 City, which, thank Heaven, I only know by 
 name.' 
 
 And thus she chattered on, amid the 
 splendour and wealth that ' odious' office had 
 won her. 
 
 'The next waltz is ours,' said a voice 
 suddenly in her ear ; and beside them stood 
 her cousin, Alfred Foxley, who barely ac- 
 corded the tips of his fingers to Seymour. 
 Though gentlemanly in bearing, and rather
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 1 3 
 
 good-looking, lie had a repulsive kind of 
 twinkle in his gray-green eyes, and a cruel 
 form of lip and jaw, which his sandy-coloured 
 moustache and closely-clipped beard con- 
 cealed. Mabel glanced at the embossed card 
 which dangled at her fan, and said, with the 
 slightest perceptible shade of annoyance : 
 
 ' Excuse me, cousin Alf ; my engagements 
 with you are all over — my card is full/ 
 
 ' Already !' 
 
 ' Of course ; but there is little Fanny Con- 
 yers, and there are ever so many more.' 
 
 'Bah ! the Conyers girl always dances as 
 if she had a stone in her hoof.' 
 
 ' Now, Alf, don't be horsey and cross too,' 
 said she, tapping him playfully with her fan ; 
 while Seymour's arm went round her waist, 
 and they whirled away from her cousin's side, 
 gliding out and in amid the maze to Strauss's 
 noblest air. 
 
 With the keen eyes of that jealousy 'which 
 makes the food it feeds on,' Alfred Foxley 
 watched them ; he saw the secret interest in 
 his cousin's heart for Seymour, or rather the
 
 14 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 preference she gave him. In a word, he did 
 not love his cousin with all her beauty, but 
 he loved her wealth, or the wealth which he 
 knew must be hers in time to come. Aware 
 how limited were the means of Tom Seymour, 
 he did not fear, though he hated, him as a 
 rival, and had but one idea — to ruin him in 
 her estimation and that of every one else. 
 He had long thought deeply over this, and 
 he could see no possible plan to achieve his 
 wicked end ; but there came a fatal season 
 when to jealousy were added promptings of 
 revenge to be gratified. 
 
 The rooms were becoming more full than 
 ever. About midnight languid young swells 
 from the Opera or their clubs came dropping 
 in, with an air as if they were about to drop 
 to pieces — with parted hair, faultless gloves, 
 studs, and neckties — eyeing even the hand- 
 somest girls superciliously, or with a pre- 
 tended patronising air of connoisseurship. So 
 others now claimed the hand of Miss Brooke, 
 and Seymour went in search of his chum 
 Rowland Stanley, who had unwillingly relin-
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 15 
 
 quished his partner to the tall Guardsman, 
 who had monopolised the proud beauty for 
 more of the night than our Linesman quite 
 relished. 
 
 He saw the long-legged hero with the 
 parted hair bending over her in the pauses 
 of the dance, and apparently talking to her 
 with an ewpressement that inspired him with 
 emotions the reverse of amiable, but which 
 would have been soothed had he overheard 
 that Reynolds was only boasting that he ' Be- 
 longed to the old^ not the new Four-in-Hand 
 Club, though they drove their teams together 
 in unity on certain days.' 
 
 Then, when Milly's face became brightly 
 animated, and she seemed quite oblivious of 
 his presence while listening to Reynolds, the 
 latter was not pouring idle compliments or 
 soft flatteries into her ear ; but as there had 
 been a splendid levee that afternoon at St. 
 James's — a collar-day, when the wearers of 
 all orders were fully decorated — he was only 
 detailing the appearance of some of the gran- 
 dees he had seen while on duty with his
 
 16 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 troop; and Milly Allingham, who was proud 
 and ambitious by nature, and who dearly 
 loved all connected with ' Lords and ladies 
 and Knights of the Garter/ listened with her 
 eyes beaming brightly; and then Stanley 
 could only remember with anger that Rey- 
 nolds was heir to a peerage, that he was a 
 man of wealth, undoubtedly an eligible partly 
 and sufficiently good-looking to be a danger- 
 ous rival ; moreover, that he had many facili- 
 ties for meeting Milly Allingham, as she was 
 always with Mabel ; and Mrs. Brooke — having ^. 
 secret views of her own — fearless of exciting 
 comment, gave him a seat in her carriage to 
 every race, and a perpetual ticket to her box 
 at the Opera. 
 
 So there were several wheels revolving 
 within each other amid the well-bred hum 
 of these drawing-rooms in Park Lane. 
 
 Rowland Stanley had no lack of j)artners, 
 for a handsome and well-bred militaire is gene- 
 rally the best style of man in a young girl's 
 eye ; but when he failed to obtain Milly's 
 hand, he seemed to care little for dancing at
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 17 ' 
 
 all. She liked his attentions, and she knew 
 right well that he admired and probably- 
 loved her, for he had hovered about her 
 during the whole season ; but if he loved her, 
 he never said so, even with his eyes. A hun- 
 dred times had a tender avowal trembled on 
 the lip of Stanley, who did not want for a 
 certain amount of ' modest assurance ;' but 
 there was always an undefinable something, 
 of hauteur, of coldness and sudden reserve. in 
 her manner — a haughty carriage of her hand- 
 some head when she seemed, as it were, to 
 crest up — that repelled him or checked him, 
 even when his heart was full of adoration ; 
 for pride was the powerful and predominating 
 trait in the character of the girl, whose secret 
 heart — however serene and calm her exterior 
 —was naturally true and warm, even to pas- 
 sionateness. Moreover, unlike his friend Sey- 
 mour, Stanley was a man of means, and 
 independent of his commission, but both men 
 were as yet silent and unavowed lovers. 
 
 Though no expression of regard had fallen 
 from Seymour — who had a nervous fear that 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 DID SHE LOVJS HIM? 
 
 to do SO would end all between them — Mabel 
 felt and knew instinctively that he loved her, 
 and had a pleased consciousness that his eyes 
 were admiringly bent upon her, watching her 
 every movement. So even now, when she 
 seemed to be floating in the waltz or galop 
 with others, or threading her way with swan- 
 like grace through double sets of the Lancers, 
 his memory was wandering away to the plea- 
 sant past time in Sussex — that brief country 
 visit which was a kind of oasis in his arid 
 City work-a-day life; and what a crowding 
 it was of remembered days and hours, and 
 sentences half uttered and tender words 
 arrested, in that brief space ; what memories 
 of rides and rambles with her over the green 
 breezy downs, where the brown rabbits peeped 
 up from their holes ; by the ivied ruins of the 
 old castle of Lewes, repeopling it anew with 
 knights and dames; or sketching it from the 
 Battle Hill, where Henry III. was defeated by 
 his barons ; of rowing on the Ouse, of picnics 
 in the woods, and drives in the open carriage 
 as far as Brighton, to watch the great billows
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 19 
 
 come thundering against the walls of the 
 Marine Parade, and to laugh at the bathers 
 clinging to their safety-ropes as they bobbed 
 in the white surf like fishermen's floats ; and 
 together how they had strolled amid the won- 
 ders of the Aquarium, or sat side by side at 
 the brilliant concerts in its crowded hall, lis- 
 tening to pretty Patti, or Titiens Queen of Song. 
 
 Then there were the promenades with the 
 Cavalry - band ; and he pondered over the 
 many opportunities he had for saying that 
 which, too probably, he should never dare* to 
 say — that she was all the world to him, and 
 dearer than the breath of his nostrils; and 
 how hard to think that a day might come 
 when he would have to congratulate her as 
 the wife oi another ! 
 
 And he recalled their days of rink-skating 
 at Ryde and Brighton, and the secret de- 
 light of guiding her hand-in-hand and support- 
 ing — yea, clasping — her, when she tottered or 
 stumbled on her four-wheeled wooden skates; 
 and she did stumble so often when he was 
 near — at least so he flattered himself. And
 
 20 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 among other memories came back an occasion 
 when, out with the Brighton Harriers, he 
 clumsily got among them, and trampled ever 
 so many to death at Pyecombe ; and on an- 
 other, brought down a favourite nag of Mr. 
 Brooke's, destroying two hundred guineas' 
 worth of good horseflesh — on both events 
 being stigmatised as ^ a duffing City clerk ;' 
 and none sympathised with him, he knew, 
 but gentle Mabel, who was aware that in 
 both instances he had only been trying to 
 keep near her and to take the flying-leaps 
 at the same time ; but these were offences 
 such as sporting men can never forgive or 
 tolerate. 
 
 Would all this pleasant intercourse ever 
 come to pass again ? 
 
 On the occasion of his dancing with her 
 for the last time that night, Mabel had seen 
 her cousin Alfred bending over her mamma 
 and whispering in her ear, while his eyes were 
 bent upon herself; and it seemed to her — 
 though it might be fancy — that the unplea- 
 sant phrase ^ Cad' reached her.
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 21 
 
 Now the result of this whispering soon 
 took tangible form. Mrs. Brooke beckoned 
 her daughter to the door of the conservatory, 
 and said in frigid manner : 
 
 ' Pardon me detaining you for one mo- 
 ment, child.^ 
 
 ' Yes, mamma/ 
 
 ^Show me your engagement-card. Here 
 is that Mr. Seymour s name down for five 
 dances out of twenty-one, and three of these 
 are waltzes. You dance with him too often, 
 Mabel.^ 
 
 ^ Mamma !^ 
 
 ' I will talk more to you of this matter to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 ' What have I done that is wrong T urged 
 the girl. 
 
 'He is an ineligible parti; and when I 
 was young, I neither wasted my time or my 
 gloves by dancing with such. Your papa is 
 stupid to bring such people about the house!' 
 
 Mabel only sighed to think that poor Tom 
 Seymour was so nice and her mamma so 
 openly sordid.
 
 22 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 'These five dances/ she continued, again 
 examining the card, 'you might have given 
 to Captain Reynolds.' 
 
 ' But he only asked me for one, mamma ; 
 and why to him in particular ?' said Mabel 
 gently. 
 
 'My dear child, only think of his expec- 
 tations ; and even now he has a place in the 
 country worth ten thousand a year, a hunt- 
 ing-box in Leicestershire, a moor in the 
 Highlands, a yacht at Ryde, a fiord in Nor- 
 way ; and some say he will have a prairie 
 soon, whereon you may shoot buffaloes !' 
 
 So Mabel thought, as she went back to 
 her seat on her mamma's arm, that there was 
 little doubt about it — her envious cousin had 
 been taking an interest in her movements, 
 and it was to Seymour the unpleasant epithet 
 had been appHed. So Mabel took refuge in 
 a headache, and danced no more for the re- 
 mainder of that night, or rather morning. 
 Seymour hovered by her side ; but she almost 
 feared to reply to his most commonplace 
 remark, for she felt that the eye of her mother
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 23 
 
 was upon her. She looked nervously down, 
 and toyed with the camellias of a beautiful 
 bouquet which had been sent to her that 
 afternoon, she knew very well by whom. 
 
 At last the thinning of the crowd in the 
 rooms, and the incessant roll of carriages, 
 announced that the time had come to go; 
 and Stanley and Seymour paid their adieux 
 together. 
 
 ' To-morrow you will be in the E,ow, as 
 usual, I suppose, Miss Brooke?' said the 
 latter, almost in a whisper. 
 
 'Yes, as usual, but for the last time — at 
 noon,' she replied in the same sotto voce, 
 while she coloured slightly. 
 
 ' How sadly the last time always sounds !' 
 
 ' Pupkins takes our horses down by train 
 the day after to-morrow.' 
 
 * I shall take a canter in the Row, and — 
 and perhaps may have the pleasure of seeing 
 you. Good-night.' 
 
 'Or morning, rather,' said Mabel, smiling. 
 ' I can hear the birds singing in the Park. 
 And you have enjoyed yourself?'
 
 24 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ' More than language can express !' replied 
 Seymour fervently, as he bowed himself out. 
 
 They separated ; and though they seemed 
 merely to shake hands as usual, Tom's heart 
 was brimming with joy, so that he failed to 
 detect the malevolence in the smile of Foxley, 
 as he bade him farewell. He had over- 
 heard ? 
 
 To meet to-morrow in the Row seemed, 
 aomehow, an appointment; but, to use his own 
 phrase, matters were 4ess rosy' with Rowland 
 Stanley. He had shawled and escorted to 
 the carriage Miss AUingham, while Seymour 
 looked after the chaperone, amid the hub- 
 bub of obstinate and imperious coachmen, 
 cutting in and cutting out, thus causing much 
 confusion, and occasionally some lively vitu- 
 peration, with carriages interlocked and horses 
 rearing. 
 
 ' Whose beauty struck you most to-night. 
 Captain Stanley?' asked Milly, with the most 
 perfect unconsciousness. 
 
 ^I dare not tell you,' he replied in an 
 agitated tone; and added hurriedly, *Will
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 25 
 
 you give me the rosebud you wear in your 
 breast ?' 
 
 'Why?' she asked, smiling. 
 
 ' That I may keep it for ever, in memory 
 — of to-night !' he replied with genuine fer- 
 vour. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, if it will gratify you,' said she, 
 disengaging it from the corsage of her dress. 
 She was in the act of presenting the trifle to 
 her admirer, when, suddenly, she added, ' I 
 don't like these little bits of melodrama. 
 Thanks, and good-night. Captain Stanley !' 
 
 And as the footman drew up the window, 
 he saw that she had tossed the much-coveted 
 flower, with a proud and petulant air, to the 
 bottom of the carriage. 
 
 Stanley turned, and saw the tall Guards- 
 man, Yal Eeynolds, in the act of lifting his 
 hat to her, as, with a loose overcoat on, and 
 an unlit cigar between his teeth, he came 
 leisurely down the doorsteps. 
 
 ' And because his eyes were upon us she 
 cancelled her trifling favour!' thought Stan- 
 ley, with a gush of jealous bitterness; 'I am
 
 26 DID SUE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 the greatest muff in the world to think of 
 one so proud and volatile.' 
 
 He stood still a moment, looking, never- 
 theless, after her carriage, as, with many 
 others, it rolled away towards the Marble 
 Arch ; and when Seymour joined him they 
 lit their cigars, and walked leisurely away, 
 comparing their notes as they walked by 
 Stanhope Gate, and left behind them the 
 noble Park, where the birds were carolling 
 loudly, and where the soft air of the summer 
 night was giving place to the chiller breath 
 of early morning. Stanley's quarters were, 
 for the time, at his club ; so he walked slowly 
 homeward, thinking, with Sir Toby Belch, 
 that 'not to be abed after midnio^ht is to be 
 up betimes.' 
 
 On the other hand, Seymour little knew 
 that long after he had gone to dream, as he 
 hoped, of Mabel, in his attic bedroom, and 
 long after the windows of Park Lane and the 
 waters of the Serpentine were shining in rosy 
 light, that, oblivious of sleep, she had sat in 
 her dressing-robe, after her sleepy maid had
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 
 
 27 
 
 ' done' her magnificent bright- coloured hair, 
 before her toilet-table, oblivious too of its 
 many rare treasures of jewelry, crystal bottles, 
 and Sevres china dishes, thinking of him, and 
 of him only !
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 IN THE ROW. 
 
 It was about six o'clock on a July evening- 
 when the two friends turned their horses 
 round the Marble Arch, and rode through 
 Hyde Park. Stanley had, of course, his own 
 horse — a thorough-going bay roadster, high 
 in the forehead, round in the barrel, and 
 deep in the chest; a kind of animal more 
 difficult to find in perfection than even the 
 hunter or racer; but Seymour had jobbed 
 a hack from one of the many stables in the 
 immediate vicinity of the abode wherein his 
 limited salary compelled him to vegetate — a 
 dull boarding-house, near Harley Street, in- 
 habited usually by officers on leave, small 
 annuitants, cranky old maids, or dubious 
 widows, who, however, were most particular 
 in displaying their marriage-rings. 
 
 As this is the usual time for ' the Lady's
 
 IN THE ROW. 29 
 
 Mile,' the noble drive under the elms and 
 lindens — all powdered with summer dust from 
 Kensington Gore and Knightsbridge — was 
 crowded with equipages ; ranks of magnifi- 
 cent carriages were whirling past in lines — 
 in many of them the loveliest women in the 
 world, attired in costumes that London alone 
 can produce. Some, however, were mounted 
 (though the time was evening), and, attended 
 by grooms or cavaliers, all on the most satiu- 
 skinned and irreproachable cattle, were career- 
 ing along the soft and carefully made-up 
 pathway of the Kow. And all this was pass- 
 ing under a blaze of glorious sunshine, with 
 a pleasant breeze rustling the foliage of the 
 trees. 
 
 Though only half the extent of what it 
 was in the days of Cromwell, or when old 
 Evelyn saw the quartered bodies of the regi- 
 cides borne, 'cut, mangled, and reeking in 
 baskets,' from the place which is now Ty- 
 burnia, Hyde Park is still what Lord Chat- 
 ham so happily characterised it as one of the 
 greatest 'lungs of the metropolis;' and it is
 
 30 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 strange, as Dr. Waagen says truly, ' to fancy, 
 in the midst of the vast town, the most ver- 
 dant lawns, of very great extent, here and 
 there adorned with picturesque groups of 
 trees, broken by large pieces of water, and to 
 complete the rural appearance, numbers of 
 sheep and cows feeding on them ; then fancy 
 the striking eifect of the great masses of 
 architecture, such as Westminster Abbey, ris- 
 ing in the distance above this verdant world.' 
 And here and there are dotted, over all these 
 London parks, giant stems, gnarled and hol- 
 low, yet sprouting still, the ruins of old trees, 
 that were old when a leper hospital occupied 
 the site of St. James's Palace, and Whitehall 
 had not been dreamed of. 
 
 Intent upon those of whom they were in 
 search, the two friends rode somewhat silently 
 and at an easy pace amid the brilliant throng 
 that whirled in circles past them. 
 
 It was in the hope that Miss AUingham 
 might accompany Miss Brooke, that Stanley 
 had come with Seymour to the Park on this 
 afternoon, though half despising himself for
 
 IN THE EOW. 31 
 
 doing so, after her brusque action last night, 
 prompted, as he believed it to be, by the 
 presence of Valentine Reynolds. But a genu- 
 ine love fit cures one of all pride in such 
 cases. Stanley knew well that these fair 
 friends were always coupled ; that they rode 
 and lunched, walked, shopped, and sung to- 
 gether, and together he hoped they would be 
 on this occasion in the Row. 
 
 An occasional dropper-in on her mammal 
 reception days, five -o'clock teas, &c., how 
 often had he idled, cane and hat in hand, 
 talking the veriest commonplaces to her, with 
 his heart on his lips, and gone forth to count 
 the days till he might, without exciting re- 
 mark, venture to call again ! 
 
 ' You know, Tom,' said he, ' she reads 
 every book I recommend, admires every pass- 
 age I suggest to her criticism, sings every 
 song I prefer, takes all the music and flowers 
 I may oiFer; makes bets, and wins ever so 
 many dozens of gloves ; keeps places for me 
 on her engagement -cards; even makes me 
 au fait of the houses where she is sure to be ;
 
 32 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 but somehow I make no further progress ; 
 there is at times something so deuced proud 
 and stand-off about her. I love her very 
 dearly, yet our intercourse has only the ap- 
 pearance of a dangler's friendship — a mere 
 flirtation.' 
 
 ' I would that I were on a footing so free 
 and easy with Mabel Brooke,' replied Sey- 
 mour ; ' but flirtation often leads to something 
 better, dearer, fonder, more lasting ; and with 
 such a girl as Milly Allingham, it is perilous 
 work, Stanley — playing with edged tools, in 
 fact.' 
 
 The captain felt the truth of this, and rode 
 on for a time in silence. 
 
 ' To what a pitch — or low peg, rather — of 
 folly and slavery does this girl's beauty reduce 
 me !' thought he ; ' after all I have seen of the 
 world, at home and abroad; all the women I 
 have known, and all the risks and hardships 
 I have undergone on service in India ! Her 
 loveliness allures, her pride piques, her co- 
 quetry maddens me, causing me almost at 
 times to hate the chain that binds me. What
 
 IN THE ROW. 33 
 
 strange idiosyncrasy of the human mind is 
 this ? There is a clever writer who affirms 
 that "it is quite possible to love and hate the 
 same person, at the same moment ;'* that is, I 
 suppose, to love, and writhe under — perhaps 
 disdain oneself for — the bondage of the heart 
 in which one is kept.' 
 
 Amid his unuttered soliloquy, and just as 
 he was resolvinor to steel himself ao^ainst her — 
 poor moth ! — the pulses of his heart quickened 
 painfully, jet joyfully, when Seymour ex- 
 claimed, ^ By Jove, here come the Brookes' 
 carriage, and open too ! Thank Heaven, the 
 girls are alone, and the matei" is not there.' 
 
 And in a few seconds each had lifted his 
 hat to his divinity, ' the goddess of his idol- 
 atry/ as they reclined back in the softly- 
 cushioned carriage, in the prettiest of bonnets, 
 and both smiling brightly under the fringe 
 of her tiny parasol, and both looking as bright 
 as the sunshine, though they had been — save 
 in Mabel's instance — in every dance overnight ; 
 but, to be sure, their day had not begun till 
 about one p.m. On her knee Milly Allingham 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 had a flossy Maltese terrier, to Stanley's mind 
 the most envied cur in London. As it was 
 impossible for the carriage to stop just then, 
 each wheeled his horse alongside of her he 
 wished to address ; and that Milly changed 
 colour was very evident, when she saw Stanley ; 
 for undoubtedly he had become to her more 
 than any one of those men whom, in the whirl 
 of London society during the season, she was 
 always meeting at one house or another, being 
 in the ' same set ;' for Stanley, now on leave 
 from his regiment, was in great request for 
 everything, being as popular with the matrons 
 of the land as with many of their marriage- 
 able daughters. 
 
 The ball of last night ; the hopes that the 
 ladies were not weary ; the wind, the weather, 
 and the chances of rain — all safe topics — were 
 duly discussed with the earnestness usually 
 devoted to them ; and then it appeared as if 
 the conversation was about to flag, till Mabel 
 Brooke said ; 
 
 ' I am so glad, Mr. Seymour, that the 
 season is over.'
 
 IN THE ROW. 35 
 
 ' Why ?' 
 
 ' I have grown weary of gaiety — sick of 
 what the world calls '' society," and long now 
 for the seclusion — if it can be called so in a 
 house full of people — at Thaneshurst. You re- 
 member,' she added, while her eyelids drooped, 
 ' how delightful it was there last autumn ?' 
 
 ^ Could I ever forget ?' 
 
 And as their eyes met, a glance was ex- 
 changed which conveyed a volume — ay, three 
 volumes — and made poor Tom's heart leap 
 within him. 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' added the girl sweetly, ' I do 
 love dear Thaneshurst. You must come and 
 see us there, Captain Stanley.' (She spoke 
 to the captain, but her eyes wandered to Sey- 
 mour.) ^ You are quite a pet of mamma's. 
 She "dotes on the military." Don't you see 
 what a fuss she makes with Captain Reynolds ? 
 We have always a pleasant houseful at 
 Thaneshurst. In the old mail-coach or pre- 
 r ail way times, when people dwelt contented 
 in their own petty village centres or circles, 
 people could care for few — '
 
 36 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' And love, no doubt, but one and one 
 only,' interrupted Milly Allingham. 
 
 ' And now we can know, care for, and even 
 love ever so many. We live in pleasanter 
 times than those of our jog-trot ancestors.' 
 
 Tom Seymour smiled at the girl's vivacity ; 
 but thought, with a sigh, that, in the frugal 
 days referred to, wealth perhaps might not 
 have throned his divinity so far beyond his 
 reach. Perhaps some such ideas were floating 
 in the mind of Mabel ; she feared to extend 
 to him the half-invitation so glibly given to 
 his friend ; and as this was, too probably, the 
 last day on which she should see him, she 
 could not help looking at him with something 
 of sadness and interest. 
 
 There is no doubt that Seymour was as 
 handsome a young fellow as one may see any- 
 where. His fair brown hair started in sprouts 
 from his fine and thoughtful forehead like the 
 locks of a Phidian Jove ; he had kind, gentle, 
 ;and loving eyes — especially when they met 
 hers; a pleasing smile and good-humoured 
 mouth, yet he was generally, perforce of cir-
 
 IN THE ROW. 37 
 
 cumstances, grave ; and lie had a rich bari- 
 tone voice that every one admired, save Mrs. 
 Brooke, whose patience could not stand his 
 concerted duets and pieces with her daughter 
 Mabel. 
 
 The eyes of these two conveyed much to 
 each other, though their lips uttered little. 
 
 Meanwhile another ^little game' was 
 being acted on Stanley's side of the carriage, 
 when Miss Allingham, with a half-blush in her 
 usually pale cheeks, said suddenly : 
 
 ' I was pettish to you last night — even rude 
 I fear ; so now forgive me by accepting this 
 little flower from my bouquet to-day.' 
 
 It was a rosebud with some sprigs of forget- 
 me-not. 
 
 Stanley murmured his earnest thanks as 
 he placed it in his button-hole, and thought, 
 perhaps a little bitterly, ' She gives me this 
 small trifle because he is not here !' But this 
 emotion was only momentary. The trivial 
 episode, the little gift so prettily given, the 
 tone of voice, the half-timid expression in the 
 usually proud face and clear well-opened ej^es,
 
 38 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 all lifted Stanley's heart to the seventh heaven ; 
 and long after in fancy he conned and dreamed 
 and acted it all over again, and remembered 
 that when he had said, ' Thank you — thanks, 
 a thousand times,' and gently touched her 
 gloved hand, it was not — as it had been on 
 two previous occasions — hastily withdrawn, 
 for he was somewhat of a Grandison in his 
 love-making. But now the throng was so 
 great that they could no longer accompany the 
 carriage, which bowled on its way, without the 
 horsemen; but. as the latter lifted their hats 
 and drew their reins, Seymour saw — or fancied 
 that he saw — an expression in the farewell 
 smile of Mabel that he never forgot. 
 
 They had scarcely separated when Alfred 
 Foxley, mounted on a fine gray horse, rode 
 slowly past in close attendance on the tiniest 
 of broughams, wherein sat a fair one with 
 golden locks, whom nobody seemed to know, 
 yet all, or most, knew her perfectly well as 
 Miss Aimee de Bohun, the handsomest ballet- 
 girl in town, as her carte de visite was scattered 
 broadcast over all London to such an extent
 
 IN THE ROW. 39 
 
 that one might think her whole time was 
 passed in sitting to photographers. 
 
 She had a handsome salary, yet the initiated 
 knew that the sealskin jackets in which she 
 came to rehearsal, the diamonds that sparkled 
 on her fingers, the rare bouquets of Ninfa 
 Eo^eria camellias white as snow that awaited 
 her at the stage-door, like the cases of cliquot 
 that were sent her, and the dinners she gave 
 at the Trafalgar or Star and Garter to her 
 theatrical friends, to Yal Reynolds and certain 
 other languid and magnificent beings of the 
 male sex, were not the produce of her fasci- 
 nating fandangos and pas seiils. 
 
 Perhaps it was some knowledge of this that 
 made Foxley colour with vexation when he 
 passed Stanley, but more especially his rival 
 Seymour, as he had given Mabel to understand 
 over-night that he was going to see the Blues 
 and Hussars play at polo at Lillie Bridge in 
 the evening. 
 
 They exchanged a meaning smile as they 
 left the Park by the Albert Gate, very well 
 satisfied with their interview — Seymour more
 
 40 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 especially. It had been something so like a 
 rendezvous ; and if Mabel had seen her cousin, 
 as he did not doubt she must, the escort duty 
 on which he was employed would not raise 
 him much in her estimation. 
 
 ' Stanley,' he suddenly exclaimed, ' I would 
 give all I have in the world — ' 
 
 'All you owe would, perhaps, be better 
 still.' 
 
 ' Perhaps so.' 
 
 ' But for what, my boy ?' 
 
 ' One kiss of that girl's hand ere she leaves 
 London !' 
 
 ' She goes by the first down train at noon 
 to-morrow,' was the captain's matter-of-fact 
 reply to his friend's outburst. 
 
 Tom might never have the little privilege 
 so coveted, yet he had a kind of assurance in 
 his heart that, but for her parents' pride, and 
 more especially her mother's ambition, the 
 wealthiest bachelor of the season had not such 
 a chance of success with her as he had ; and 
 he thought that, with Mabel for a helpmate, 
 what a long and delicious idyl life would be !
 
 IN THE ROW. 41 
 
 Stanley too had his own happy thoughts 
 born of Milly's gift ; the gift and the act were 
 but a trifle, yet ' trifles make the sum of human 
 things.'
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 
 
 « 
 
 In three days after this the well-known man- 
 sion in Park Lane was silent, shut up, and 
 empty of all inmates, save the respectable old 
 female who was left as custodian thereof. 
 Brown holland covered everything ; even the 
 chandeliers were wreathed in bags, and statues 
 looked spectral in their unwonted shrouds. 
 The blinds were all down; the shrubs and 
 flowers, with their huge majolica vases, re- 
 moved from the balconies to the conservatory. 
 
 Ichabod ! the glory had departed from 
 Park Lane ; yet Tom Seymour could not but 
 come now and then to survey the place which 
 had once been as an enchanted palace to him, 
 and where he knew the very windows of the 
 room that was Mabel's bed-chamber. 
 
 As he was not on Mrs. Allingham's visit- 
 ing list, he could only hear of the Brookes at
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 43 
 
 secondhand through his friend Stanley — and 
 more especially of Mabel, who was the con- 
 stant correspondent of Milly ; so to Tom Sey- 
 mour the days — more especially those of office 
 drudgery — stole monotonously, wearily, and 
 anxiously on, and lover-like — circumstanced 
 as he was — he tormented himself by fears and 
 fancies that were not illumined by hope. 
 
 Who might be resident with her at Thanes- 
 hurst now, ingratiating himself with her, and 
 supplanting him in her heart with all the 
 opportunities afforded by propinquity and Re- 
 sidence in a country-house ; backed perhaps 
 by wealth and ' expectations,' and abetted, as 
 he would then doubtless be, by her parents' 
 influence and authority ? Would the memory 
 of the delicious past time, in the same place, 
 act as a charm to protect his love and keep 
 his image in her mind ? He could but hope 
 so ; yet this rival whom his imagination con- 
 jured up was a perpetual source of torment to 
 poor Tom, more especially in the lonely even- 
 ings he spent in his dull rooms at the corner 
 of Harley Street, more than half the houses
 
 44 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 of which were closed for the season ; fate and 
 fortune were, he felt, against a lover whose 
 pockets were so thinly lined as his ; and in 
 the present instance he had not ' that limitless 
 reversion in the future^ which is worth the 
 mines of Golconda to the young and ardent. 
 
 Of Alfred Foxley, the cousin, who had 
 also gone down to Thaneshurst, he had no 
 fear whatever. He envied the apparently 
 free-and-easy position in which his friend 
 Stanley stood with Miss Allingham ; but mar- 
 velled that, with the many recommendations 
 possessed by the latter — monetary ones especi- 
 ally — he seemed to make so little progress in 
 his love affair with her ; but then, somewhat of 
 a coquette as she was, Milly was in no haste 
 to choose, or strike her colours to the gallant 
 officer in question. 
 
 From Eeynolds the Guardsman, Stanley 
 one day heard incidentally that the Ailing- 
 hams were on the eve of leaving town. He 
 thought it strange that Milly should give this 
 information to that tall personage with the 
 tawny fly-away whiskers, and yet say nothing
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 45 
 
 on the subject to himself; however, he made 
 up his mind to call at once. 
 
 The commissionaire on permanent duty at 
 the club hailed a passing hansom, and Stan- 
 ley was soon bowled up St. James's Street, 
 along Piccadilly and Park Lane, and in due 
 time found himself at Connaught Terrace. A 
 resplendent footman, with a head like a cauli- 
 flower, was benignantly contemplating man- 
 kind at the portico of Mrs. Allingham's hous^, 
 and from this official Stanley learned that the 
 mamma was 'hout' and that Milly was at 
 ' 'ome.' 
 
 ^ There is one fateful hour in every man's 
 existence,' says a novelist; and while his heart 
 began to beat quicker with anticipation, Row- 
 land Stanley began to hope or to flatter him- 
 self that his hour had come noiv. He had 
 not often such an opportunity as this. 
 
 ' Is Miss Allingham alone ?' he asked. 
 
 ' Quite alone, sir,' responded ^ Jeames,' pre- 
 ceding him; and now there flashed upon his 
 mind the memory of another occasion, when 
 he was on the point of declaring himself, and
 
 46 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 putting his fate to the issue at once. It was 
 at a whitebait dinner at Greenwich, when 
 together they were on a balcony of the hotel, 
 with none near, watching the passing ships 
 and steamers gliding amid the strange com- 
 bination of lurid light, gray mist, and purple 
 shadow that mark a London twilight evening 
 by the river, and he was on the point of tell- 
 ing her how dear she was to him — nay, had 
 taken possession of her gloved hand; but after 
 permitting it to linger for a little moment in 
 his, she withdrew it, gathered her shawl abgut 
 her, and stepped laughingly back into the 
 drawing-room, so the golden chance was past 
 and gone ! 
 
 But an opportunity had come again, and 
 even as he ascended the stately staircase, with 
 all that rapidity of thought which enables us 
 to form a fancied future, he cast up the general 
 amount of his income, the statement he might 
 have to give to 'mamma,' his ultimate expec- 
 tations, his scheme for selling out, of quitting 
 his beloved regiment, of taking a leaf out of 
 All for Love^ or the World well Lost, settling 
 
 -;i
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 47 
 
 down with Milly Allingham, and devoting his 
 existence to her, and to her only. 
 
 So intently was she engaged with her own 
 thoughts — it could scarcely be with her music, 
 as she was only idling over the keys — that 
 she did not hear his name announced; and 
 through the double drawing-room he made 
 his way unheard on the soft carpet and occa- 
 sional bearskins, seeing himself reproduced 
 again and again in the endless perspective of 
 the gilt-framed pier-glasses that rose from 
 marble console tables and chiffoniers, litte^d 
 with Sevres, Wedgwood, and ornaments of all 
 kinds ; and round the central table, where, of 
 course ranged in regular order, lay elaborately 
 bound tomes, photographic albums, silver 
 baskets of calling cards, and gilded books, to 
 be opened sometimes, but neVer perused — the 
 usual features of that which some one describes 
 as the ' peculiar institution, the British draw- 
 ing-room, that sacred chamber, ever tenderly 
 swept and garnished and cared for.' 
 
 Stanley, unheard, the servant having with- 
 drawn, came close to her back, as she was
 
 48 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 vseated on the music-stool, and for a moment 
 he could admire, with all a lover's tenderness, 
 the graceful contour of her neck and shapely 
 head, and her wonderful coils of hair, of a 
 brown so rich and dark, and yet so subtly 
 shot with gold when the light struck them, 
 that she almost seemed to have tresses of two 
 colours at once. But if the girl a man loves 
 is always beautiful in his eyes, how much 
 more must she seem so when her loveliness is 
 — as Milly's was — acknowledged by all, her 
 own sex as well as the other ! 
 
 Eapid though Stanley's survey was, he 
 could perceive that a piece of music given by 
 Reynolds — a piece with a tenderly significant 
 title — was obnoxiously prominent on the piano ; 
 but then others of his presentation were 
 littered all over it. Of course Miss Allingham 
 had many more admirers than Captain Rey- 
 nolds; and no man objects to it, but is rather 
 pleased that the woman he loves obtains the 
 admiration of others, such an expression being 
 an approval of his own good taste; yet, some- 
 how, Stanley had a decided dread of the influ-
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 49 
 
 ence of the Guardsman in the mansion at Hyde- 
 park Corner. 
 
 Suddenly she became aware of his presence, 
 gave a little start, and, while colouring for a 
 moment, presented her hand, and said with a 
 smile : 
 
 ^ Captain Stanley ! Where have you come 
 from ? Up through the floor, as the spiritual- 
 ists send people ?' 
 
 * In by the door, in the usual orthodqx 
 way,' replied Kowland Stanley, drawing a 
 chair near her ; ' but I fear I have disturbed 
 you.' 
 
 ' Oh, do not say so. I was only thinking, 
 or idling over a piece of music,' she replied, 
 and with a rapid movement tossed Yal Rey- 
 nolds's last gift into the music-stand, either 
 out of carelessness for that personage or lest 
 her visitor might see it. 
 
 ' Your mamma's reception days are over 
 now,' said he after a brief pause. 
 
 ' For the season, yes ; even the kettle- 
 drums — the mildest of all forms of dissipation 
 — are over now.' 
 
 YOL. I. E
 
 50 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' But having heard that you were on the 
 eve of leaving town, I ventured to call.' 
 
 'Every one has left town now but our- 
 selves. I am literally " the last rose of sum- 
 mer," ' she replied, laughing. ' Mamma is 
 shopping, making some farewell purchases; 
 she will be so disappointed on finding that she 
 has missed you. But wJio told you that we 
 were on the eve of departure ?' 
 
 'Reynolds of the Guards.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! Yes, mamma goes with an aunt 
 of mine to the Hotel du Ehin at Wiesbaden, 
 to imbibe the koclihrunnen ; I to the Brookes' 
 down in Sussex, for a pretty long visit.' 
 
 ' Then probably this is the last time I shall 
 have the pleasure of seeing you.' 
 
 ' Till we return to town. We leave this 
 in a few davs.' 
 
 ' So soon ! When you return to town. 
 Miss Allingham, I shall of course have joined 
 my regiment abroad.' 
 
 The girl's long dark lashes drooped, and 
 then she gazed at him with something of 
 interest in her hazel eyes.
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 51 
 
 'Abroad?' she repeated, and there was 
 much that was musical and plaintive in her 
 voice as she spoke. 
 
 ' Yes ; so Heaven knows when — if ever — 
 we may meet again; so I have that to say 
 which must be said now — now, that we are on 
 the eve of what may be more than a temporary 
 separation.' 
 
 His lips trembled, his eyes were sparkling, 
 and his heart beating fast; but he paused 
 even then, for sometliing in the girl's serenity, 
 her air, or assumed air, of pride, contrasted 
 with his own emotion and loving tenderness, 
 made him linger in the declaration of the 
 sentiment she had inspired. After a little 
 pause, during which he could see how her 
 heart palpitated beneath her silk dress, he laid 
 a hand softly upon hers, and said, in a low 
 voice and with his lips very near her pearly ear : 
 
 ' You — ^you know that I love you !' 
 
 'I do not know anything of the kind. 
 Captain Stanley,' replied the wilful beauty, 
 looking down, however, and leaving her hand 
 where it lingered on the keys of the piano. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ilNIVERSJTY OF riUNOfS
 
 52 DIB SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 'Milly, dearest Millj — oh, permit me to 
 call you so!' he urged, and now his breath 
 was on her cheek. 
 
 ' Captain Stanley,' she- replied, ' please not 
 to carry flirtation too far.' 
 
 'Flirtation!' he exclaimed almost impa- 
 tiently, while to hide her smile of pleasure she 
 buried her pretty nose in a bouquet of 
 camellias and lily of the valley that lay near 
 in a charming houquetlere, the gift of Stanley, 
 with a bouquet, one night before a ball. ' Oh,' 
 he continued, ' have I deceived myself ? Can 
 you — have you been unconscious of all this, 
 of how deeply I love you?' 
 
 In her heart of hearts Milly Allingham 
 had seen his growing passion, and felt a real 
 pleasure in his society, but had sedulously 
 hidden her secret pride thereat; and, almost 
 unconscious of her own coquetry, her vanity 
 was piqued by the long delay of the avowal 
 that had come now. Thus she was unwilling 
 to surrender on too easy terms ; or, perhaps, 
 could it be that she was like an angler, anxious 
 to play a little with her fish ere she landed
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 53 
 
 him; or that she had another string to her 
 bow, and knew not her own mind ? Any way 
 she paused, and Stanley repeated in a more 
 agitated voice : 
 
 ' Can you have been unconscious of how 
 deeply I love you ?' 
 
 Prompted by motives best known to her- 
 self, keeping her beautiful face half averted, 
 and showing him only her clearly cut profile, 
 she answered in a low voice : 
 
 ^ I certainly never dreamed that you had 
 a deep feeling on the subject ; and — and you 
 red- coats have such a facility for such emo- 
 tions. I thought you — you — ' 
 
 'What?' 
 
 ' Valued me as a friend, nothing more.' 
 
 Some strange idiosyncrasy of the heart led 
 her to trifle with him and with her own happi- 
 ness. Stanley sighed, and said : 
 
 ' Oh, Miss Allingham ! your society has 
 ever been delightful to me ; but — ' . 
 
 ' Please let us be friends. Many love, and 
 love truly; but many more only fancy they 
 have fallen in love, and the fancy does not
 
 54 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 outlast separation from the object — separation 
 for any length of time. We can be excellent 
 friends, can't we?' she added, looking up at 
 him for a second with a timid but coquettish 
 smile. 
 
 Stanley had risen now, and looking down 
 at her stately head, with its straight snow- 
 white division, he thought sadly : 
 
 'Is she heartless, or merely equivocating 
 with me ?' 
 
 Then he added aloud : 
 
 ' A friend of yours ! a mere cold friend I 
 could never, never be. I must be something 
 nearer and dearer. I must be all, or nothing!' 
 
 She was only waiting, perhaps, to hear 
 him say passionately again how much he loved 
 her, as doubtless the repetition thereof was 
 pleasing alike to her ear and her vanity ; but 
 in this she was doomed to be disappointed; 
 for, just as Stanley was about to speak again, 
 the door of the room swung noiselessly open, 
 and the tall footman with the powdered hair, 
 bearing certain cards, solemnly and porten- 
 tously, on a silver salver, announced some
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 55 
 
 visitors, whose silken dresses were already 
 rustling on the threshold. So Stanley was 
 compelled to retire, leaving the citadel un- 
 taken, and assuming his hat and cane, bade 
 her sadly, reproachfully, and even hastily, 
 farewell. 
 
 She rang the bell, and he bowed himself 
 out. 
 
 He issued into the brilliant sunshine, 
 passed the Marble Arch, and entered the Park 
 with a vague sense of being ill-treated or of 
 having acted foolishly ; but how, he knevs^ not 
 exactly. He had not been abrupt or impetu- 
 ous, yet he had been refused, and not even 
 referred to her mother. The whole love scene 
 had taken a turn, and been in its tone quite 
 unlike what he could have anticipated, and he 
 knew not whether to thank or maledict the 
 sudden irruption of those fair visitors whose 
 arrival prevented a continuance of it. 
 
 So Stanley's /(2i^^z^/ hour hsid not yet come. 
 
 While he was sauntering moodily onward 
 she was concealing her real agitation by talk- 
 ing gaily to her friend Fanny Conyers and
 
 56 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 others, on topics far removed from her heart, 
 while she whispered to herself, with a bright 
 and triumphant smile : 
 
 'He will come again ere we go, and then 
 I may give him some hope.' 
 
 But Milly Allingham was wrong ; for Row- 
 land Stanley went near Conn aught Terrace 
 no more; and a few days after the stately 
 mansion there was, like all the rest, shut up, 
 abandoned to brown holland and cobwebs. 
 After she and her mamma had left town, he 
 thought he had obtained a clue to the whole 
 affair, and to the secret emotions which influ- 
 enced her while listening to his declaration. 
 
 One day, when idling over the papers at 
 the club, and pondering how aimless his life 
 in London had now become, he overheard one 
 officer say to another : 
 
 ^ So Val Reynolds has gone on leave and 
 run down to Sussex — to some place beyond 
 Brighton at least — for some weeks.' 
 
 'Indeed!' replied the other, not much 
 interested in the subject. 
 
 ' Pie spoke of the Brighton Harriers, but
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 57 
 
 Foxley told me there is a bit of muslin in the 
 case/ 
 
 ^ Ah — perhaps.' 
 
 ' He was more particular in his choice of 
 gloves in Regent Street, and pots and bottles 
 of all kinds of things at Rimmel's, the day 
 before he went. Some of the Blues quizzed 
 him openly, as he is known to be awfully 
 spoony on Milly Allingham, who is residing 
 near Brie^hton.' 
 
 'She is no end of a nice little party, the 
 Brooke girl,' said the other, becoming a little 
 interested, ' but not equal to Milly Alling- 
 ham ; but then her mother spoils all, by 
 showing her cards so plainly.' 
 
 ' How ?' 
 
 ' Don't you know? — tuft-hunting to death. 
 She pays profound homage to the peerage, 
 though she despises the Law List — perhaps 
 the Army List in general too. And so Val, 
 you think, has gone after la belle Alling- 
 ham?' 
 
 ' Yes ; the Brookes' invitation to her in- 
 cluded him, I understand. But with all his
 
 58 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 recommendation Reynolds makes little way 
 with some women.' 
 
 ' Why ?' 
 
 'He can onlv talk Four-in-Hand Club, 
 and dilate largely on bars and bits, of patent 
 axles and ditto drags, and laugh immensely 
 at any fellow who pulls up his team with 
 both hands.' 
 
 But here Stanley, unwilling to listen to 
 more, took his hat, and, buttoning his gloves 
 as carefully as if he had nothing serious to 
 reflect on, issued into the now - deserted 
 thoroughfare of Pall Mall, where little more 
 was to be seen save the dust whirling, and 
 the sentinels of the Guards standing motion- 
 less on their posts, with 'ordered arms.' 
 
 ' Brookes' invitation to her included him T. 
 thought Stanley. ' Neither said anything of 
 this to me.'' 
 
 A pang of jealousy, with something of 
 bitterness, of wounded self-esteem and anger 
 for supposed duplicity, shot through his heart. 
 Was there a secret understanding between 
 them? The whole affair wore a disgusting
 
 THE FATEFUL HOUR. 59 
 
 aspect of prearrangement. That Miss AUing- 
 ham did not speak of Reynolds going down 
 to Thaneshurst was perhaps an omission ; 
 perhaps she thought or cared too little about 
 the matter to mention it; but it might also 
 be that she was too well-bred, too coquettish, 
 or — shall we say it ? — too cunning to pain 
 him^ Eowland Stanley ; or perhaps — and this 
 was the most stinging thought of all — she 
 might really care for the legged ' curled 
 darling.' 
 
 Ay, there Avas the rub. So Stanley gave 
 a sigh like a snort, and muttered, 
 
 ' Well, it is all for the best, as Dr. Pan- 
 gloss has it; but just now the wrench is 
 devilish hard to bear. By Jove, I'll cut Lon- 
 don, resign my leave, and rejoin!' 
 
 But he did not do this, for reasons to be 
 given shortly : not that he cared much about 
 the mess-table speculation of a man having 
 twelve months' . leave, after long foreign ser- 
 vice, foregoing at least five or six of them.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHAT OCCUREED AT ^ THE RAG.' 
 
 The month of August in London, there the 
 hottest, most breathless, and detestable of all 
 the months in the year, stole on, and found 
 Rowland Stanley still lingering irresolutely 
 in town, doubtful whether to rejoin or take 
 a run over to Paris. The West -end was 
 intensely dull ; still he preferred it to the 
 country, after his long residence among some 
 of the outlying hill-stations in India. Even 
 the theatres were cheerless now. The rail- 
 ways failed to fill them, and the dress-circles 
 presented ' a beggarly account of empty 
 boxes.' 
 
 In short, London was out of town. 
 
 ' I must cut this stupid objectless life,' 
 thought Stanley ; ' I'll rush off somewhere, or 
 rejoin. By Jove ! but for what those gossip- 
 ing fellows at the club said about Val Rey-
 
 WHAT OCCURRED AT ' THE RAG.' 61 
 
 nolds, I would go down to Brighton, where I 
 might have some chance of seeing her on a 
 fete-day. And only to think that devilish 
 fellow has been with her at Thaneshurst all 
 this time.' 
 
 August! Milly Allingham had left town 
 in July. By this period, what other interests 
 than his might surround her now, to the 
 oblivion of his image and memory perhaps ! 
 
 Stanley had loved the girl from the time, 
 he first saw her ; but with her strange caprice 
 and coquetry he sometimes asked himself 
 why he did so ? And he was questioning him- 
 self thus now, even while collaterally, in his 
 own mind, recalling and dwelling fondly and 
 sadly over every word that had passed be- 
 tween them. 
 
 In six or seven weeks, he surmised, could 
 she have reached the apathy, the indifference, 
 that so often follow separation ? and some- 
 thing of rage gathered in his heart at this 
 idea, combined with his suspicion of a secret 
 understanding. For often does love, or so- 
 called love, come to this, when without the
 
 62 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 magnetic influence of presence and propin- 
 quity. If she remembered liim, would she 
 care to surmise — but she was too proud to do 
 so — whether he thought of her? Often he 
 had heard her say, laughingly, that the me- 
 mories of men, in matters pertaining to love, 
 were wonderfully short — an accusation against 
 the sex which he as laughingly, but for ob- 
 vious reasons more earnestly, combated. 
 
 At times it seemed painfully plain to an 
 unostentatious fellow like Eowland Stanley 
 that Milly Allingham, the haughty and 
 wealthy beauty, who shot her arrows so deftly 
 and posed herself so gracefully at archery 
 meetings — who was the belle of the best 
 London ball-rooms, the talk of the season, the 
 admired and looked-for in the Row and else- 
 where — who had been presented at court — 
 who shone in the croquet-ground, and actually 
 hunted on a thoroughbred — was much more 
 likely, after all, to prefer the languid, die- 
 away, tawny-whiskered Guardsman, to one 
 like himself; and so, as he thought over his 
 situation, he muttered,
 
 WHAT OCCURRED AT ' THE RAG.' 63 
 
 'What a romantic — yes, sentimental — 
 idiot I was to ask her for the flower after the 
 Brookes' ball; and to prize so much the rose- 
 bud and the — what was it ? — bunch of forget- 
 me-nots she gave me next day in the Park ! 
 On the very verge of proposing, too, when 
 last I saw her !' 
 
 These ideas came to him in his bitter 
 moments, for it was 
 
 ' his jealousy's peculiar nature 
 To swell small things to great ; nay, out of naught 
 To conjure much ; and then to lose its reason 
 Amid the hideous phantoms it had formed.' 
 
 And thus he conjured much. That Reynolds's 
 invitation to Thaneshurst was due to Mrs. 
 Brooke's particular and ulterior views and 
 his own great ' expectations,' Stanley knew 
 very well ; but it was the concealment of it 
 from himself by Milly Allingham that rankled 
 in his heart, though he had no decided claim 
 as yet to be in her confidence. From what 
 motion did that concealment spring? he asked 
 himself a thousand times, without finding any 
 satisfactory solution of the mystery.
 
 64 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 So every way Stanley felt town becoming 
 more intolerable : like the jealous Moor, he 
 found his ^occupation gone.' There was no 
 more escorting Mrs. Allingham and her 
 daughter to balls and evening parties, to 
 flower-shows at the Horticultural, to the In- 
 ternational Exhibition, or fetes at the Botanic 
 Gardens and elsewhere. All Avas ended now, 
 and blank monotony had fallen over him 
 apparently ; and in this mood he found him- 
 self promenading one evening in Regent 
 Street, when he suddenly came upon his 
 friend Tom Seymour. 
 
 The office of the latter was a Government 
 one ; certain returns had been moved for in 
 ^ the House,' and in the making up of these 
 he had been occupied in other work than 
 reading periodicals and smoking cigars during 
 office-hours; and thus Stanley had not seen 
 him for some time. 
 
 After a few of the usual commonplaces 
 Stanley asked Tom if he had heard anything 
 of the Brookes. 
 
 ' No; have you?' asked the other eagerly.
 
 WHAT OCCURRED AT ' THE RAG.' 65 
 
 * Only that Milly Allmgham has gone to 
 visit them, while her mater is imbibing the 
 kochbrunnen at Wiesbaden/ replied Stanley, 
 and then changed the subject, as he had no 
 desire to impart, even to his firm friend, the 
 ' snub ' — for such he deemed it — he had re- 
 ceived from Milly, and too sincerely mortified 
 to say aught of the cloudy-looking affair of 
 Reynolds being invited at the same time to 
 the same house. 
 
 ' They will make a long stay at Thanes - 
 hurst, I fear,' said Seymour, unwilling to let 
 the matter nearest his heart be dismissed so 
 summarily ; and there was something of sad- 
 ness or weariness in his tone that impressed 
 his military friend. 
 
 ^Now, Tom, old fellow,^ said the latter, 
 ' you are down in the mouth just now about 
 Mabel Brooke. You'll dine with me this 
 evening ?' 
 
 ' With pleasure ; but where ?' 
 
 *At my club. I sha'nt be there long 
 now ; I mean to rejoin the regiment.' 
 
 ' Leave up already?* 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ' Not half run.' 
 
 • Why — oh, I see ! Milly Allingham is 
 out of town, so London has lost its charm. 
 It has so for me too.' 
 
 ' Come, then, we'll just have a cutlet or 
 so, a bottle of Lafitte after, and then go some- 
 where and make a night of it.' 
 
 ' Thanks, Rowland. Anywhere — much 
 less your luxurious club — is preferable to 
 that odious boarding-house by Harley Street.' 
 
 And they turned arm-in-arm down Pali- 
 Mall way, little foreseeing the direction their 
 affairs would take at the club, where they 
 were soon seated at table in the snug corner 
 of a stately room. A gorgeous footman, re- 
 splendent with buttons, removed the silver 
 lid of the soup-tureen, and Stanley pushed 
 the menu to his friend. ' A fellow-feeling 
 makes us wondrous kind;' but though the 
 captain and Seymour had not much to say on 
 any subject save one, as their minds were at 
 Thaneshurst, and on that subject they could 
 not converse until their attendant's services 
 were dispensed with, haste was made to get
 
 WHAT OCCURRED AT ' THE RAG.* 67 
 
 through the ' cutlet,' &c., and have the cloth 
 removed. 
 
 ' Port or claret, Tom ?' 
 
 ^ Claret, please. And so where shall we 
 go for the evening?' 
 
 'Haymarket? Sothern is there as Dun- 
 dreary, of course ? Or shall we go and see 
 Foxley's friend, little Aimee de Bohun, 
 pirouetting on her toes at the — ' 
 
 ' No ; Foxley is sure to be in a private 
 box, and I detest the sight of the fellow's 
 face,' exclaimed Seymour. 
 
 ' Letter for you, sir,' said the servant, 
 holding a salver before Stanley, who leisurely 
 took therefrom a letter, the postmark on 
 which made him start and change counte- 
 nance. 
 
 ' Lewes and Brighton, by Jove !' he ex- 
 claimed; ' and addressed in a lady's hand too.' 
 
 'A lady's!' repeated Seymour, suddenly 
 becoming similarly interested. 
 
 ' Yes. See, it must be so.' 
 
 ' Mabel's !' exclaimed Seymour, his colour 
 deepening more than the Lafitte warranted.
 
 68 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' You know it, I perceive.' 
 
 ' Open it, Rowland — I am all impatience/ 
 
 Stanley opened it carefully with his fruit- 
 knife, and a little nervously he drew the mis- 
 sive from its envelope. It was from Miss 
 Brooke ; and her tinted letter-paper, redolent 
 of some subtle perfume, was a rare work of 
 heraldic art, so far as arms, monogram, and 
 so forth went. 
 
 ' What on earth can she be writing to you 
 about, Stanley?' asked Tom as he saw an ex- 
 pression of pleasure spread over the face of 
 his friend, who read aloud thus : 
 
 ' Thaneshurst, Sussex. 
 
 ' Dear Captain Stanley, — I write to you 
 by desire of papa, as his hand is gouty, and 
 Alf has delayed so long to do so, though more 
 than once requested. The grouse are not so 
 plentiful this month; but papa, though no 
 shot himself, says that there is an excellent 
 prospect for the partridge-shooting, and that 
 if you can visit us in time for the 1st of Sep- 
 tember, we shall all be delighted to see you.
 
 WHAT OCCURRED AT 'THE RAG.' 69 
 
 ' We are not so gay just now as we some- 
 times are ; but we contrive to get through the 
 time wonderfully — Milly, Fanny Conyers, and 
 some other girls, with our escorts, Alf and 
 Captain Reynolds/ 
 
 'Is A^ there?' asked Seymour, interrupting. 
 
 ' So it would seem,' replied Stanley, as if 
 he had only then learned the whereabouts of 
 this tall bugbear to them both. 
 
 ' That must have been the old lady's 
 doings.' 
 
 ' Of course. He'll be a peer one of these 
 days.' 
 
 ' "We have carpet-dances,' continued Stan- 
 ley, resuming the letter, 'and music every 
 evening, and sometimes private theatricals 
 and charades. We were all at a great musical 
 party, which proved very jolly, as we had 
 previously been bored by a lecture on Africa 
 by a mild clerico, our new curate, who seems 
 to have eyes for no one save Milly, but he 
 may as well admire the moon. She is quite 
 the rage with the Hussars at Brighton. They
 
 70 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 gave us a ball last week, and we danced every 
 dance, and in the sets of sixteen Lancers. 
 Captain Reynolds quite shook off his aristo- 
 cratic languor, and became our commanding 
 officer for the time. It was delightful : we 
 all laughed so, and wished you were there.' 
 
 ' No regret for poor me !' sighed Tom. 
 
 ' We often drive to Brighton, and skate 
 there on the rink with cousin Alf and Major 
 Larkspur of the Hussars. But you must join 
 us in all these mild amusements, if you are 
 not otherwise engaged. 
 
 ' Pater and mater join me in kindest re- 
 gards, and believe me to be yours very sin- 
 cerely, " Mabel Brooke.' 
 
 ' And that is all?' exclaimed Tom. 
 
 ' There is a P.S. : " Papa desires me to 
 add that if Mr. Thomas Seymour (who is the 
 son of one of his oldest friends) can obtain 
 leave from his official duties, he" — (the word 
 had at first been we) — "shall only be too 
 happy if he can accompany you.'"
 
 WHAT OCCURRED AT ^ THE RAG.' 71 
 
 Seymour's face grew suddenly very bright 
 and joyous, while an emotion of gladness 
 filled his heart ; yet he only said, 
 
 ' How kind ! But he is a fine fellow, old 
 Mr. Brooke.' 
 
 Mabel, circumstanced as they were, could 
 not write to Seymour even such a girlish and 
 light-hearted letter as this, though she might 
 do so with confidence to his friend, knowing 
 well that her letter would be shown. Indeed, 
 it was at her suggestion the invitation was 
 given to Stanley when her father was alone, 
 in the hope — which was fulfilled — that, by 
 the association of ideas, it would be extended 
 to his friend. 
 
 'You are going, of course, Tom?' said 
 Stanley. 
 
 'Doubtless; shall only be too happy. 
 
 And you?' 
 
 There was somewhat of a dark and dubi- 
 ous expression hovering on Stanley's hand- 
 some face. He was thinking : 
 
 ' To go down there, and find perhaps that 
 after ViYL— after a//— she has fooled me, and
 
 72 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 thrown me over for that fellow Yal Reynolds 
 —no, I'll be if I go !' 
 
 And yet the next breath found him con- 
 sidering the terms in which he should express 
 his pleasure in accepting Mr. Brooke's invita- 
 tion. 
 
 But with all his love for Milly, he was 
 not without an emotion of anger at her pride 
 and coquetry. Thus one moment he was 
 prompted to show his indifference of her 
 society by pleading other engagements, and 
 the next felt only too glad to avail himself of 
 the opportunity of once more enjoying and 
 tormenting himself in it. 
 
 Poor Tom looked longingly at the letter of 
 Mabel ; her hand had written, touched, folded, 
 and closed it — the lovely little hand whose 
 contour he knew so well — and something of 
 this was read in his face by Stanley, who said, 
 
 'There, Tom, is the letter; I know you 
 wish to preserve it as a relic. What idiots we 
 fellows are !' 
 
 ' " Is love so small a thing in comparison 
 with money?" asks Mrs. Norton.'
 
 WHAT OCCURRED AT ' THE RAG.' 73 
 
 'Yes, at times, Tom — a very small thing 
 indeed.' 
 
 Seymour smiled somewhat bitterly, and 
 said, 
 
 ' So cousin Alf delayed — that means, no 
 doubt, declined — to write an invitation which 
 was perhaps intended to include me.'' 
 
 ' Doubtless. But don't think of him ; you 
 could easily turn his flank. I would that I 
 had in Miss Allin^ham's heart the same 
 amount of interest you possess in that of her 
 friend.' 
 
 ' And that I had the same monetary ad- 
 vantages that you have to recommend you, 
 Stanley.' 
 
 ' Milly sets no store on these. Can you 
 get leave from your commanding officer?' 
 * ' Our comptroller ? Oh, yes ; the returns 
 are finished, and I have fairly earned it.' 
 
 ' Good. Then I'll write by an early post 
 to-morrow, and accept for us both. Mean- 
 time, we'll have another bottle of Lafitte.' 
 
 Seymour was quite elated, as his mind 
 went back to the delights of his first visit to
 
 74 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 Thanesliurst ; but he knew well - — he had 
 learned intuitively of old — that however warm 
 and genuine his welcome from cheery old Mr. 
 Brooke would be, that of Mrs. Brooke would 
 be accorded most unwillingly. With all his 
 efforts he could never win her favour, and 
 had ceased to hope for it or make further 
 attempts. 
 
 Yet the temptation to be once again near 
 her he loved rendered him oblivious, case- 
 hardened, and almost totally indifferent to 
 what her mother thought ; so he resolved the 
 moment he reached his rooms to write also an 
 acceptance to Mr. Brooke. 
 
 Thus they got through the night pleas- 
 antly without going anywhere — even to see 
 Aimee de Bohun, the fair one with the golden 
 locks, in tarlatan and spangles.
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THANESHURST. 
 
 Though situated amid a portion of Sussex 
 scenery where the landscape is broken into 
 hill and dale, and for the most part covered 
 with birch, hazel, or beech underwood. Thanes- 
 hurst is still within view of that restless sea 
 which is for ever rolling between the white 
 bluffs of Beachy Head and the peninsula of 
 Selsea Bill. 
 
 Thanesliurst ! — the ancient sound of the 
 name pleased the vanity of Mrs. John Brooke 
 when the place was purchased ; but, some- 
 what to her disappointment, instead of being 
 a baronial pile like Lewes or Rochester, the 
 mansion was a villa, more modern than scores 
 of houses in the Tottenham-court Road. 
 
 The new and stately villa, with its enta- 
 blature, pilasters, and balustraded roof, its 
 plate-glass windows and Italian poiHe-cochere
 
 76 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 of three arches, all in the approved Tuscan 
 style, in summer was half buried among the 
 grand woods of an older dwelling it had re- 
 placed ; and amid its gardens, shrubberies, 
 parterres, and the old chase, ' the eternal love- 
 liness of nature was around it.' 
 
 The ground descended from the house in 
 terraced slopes, adorned with beds of brilliant 
 flowers; and there of old, on the summit of 
 the gentle eminence, stood the wooden dwell- 
 ing of Brie trie, the Saxon thane, who was also 
 lord of Thaneland, the gift of Harold, by 
 whose side he fell at Hastings ; and there, in 
 later years, stood a Norman castle, granted, 
 with other manors in Sussex, to Anne of 
 Cleves, — a fortlet whose occupants, in their 
 brightest dreams, could have had no thought of 
 the staircase of coloured marble, the rails and 
 lamps of light Venetian bronze, picked out 
 with gilding ; the statues, in the best style of 
 art, in handsome niches; the rare exotics in 
 jardinieres or majolica vases on tripod stands, 
 and other appurtenances, which made a palace 
 of the Thaneshurst pf Mrs. John Brooke.
 
 THANESHURST. 77 
 
 And as at Park Lane the demi-sea-horse, 
 with the motto ' Spes mea Deus^ was conspi- 
 cuous on everything, from the hall-chairs to 
 the pediment above the porte-cochere^ yet it 
 was a house where scarcely - appreciated 
 Titians, Raphaels, Correggios, and Watteaus 
 replaced the simple chromos and oleographs 
 with which Mrs. John Brooke had been con- 
 tented in less ambitious days ; when their 
 town abode was far eastward of Park Lane 
 
 >' ? 
 
 when a month of the sea-breeze at Margate 
 was all then dreamed of summer, and ' her 
 John' came always down by ' the husbands' 
 boat.' 
 
 Something of his business habits and strict 
 regularity pervaded the household at Thanes- 
 hurst, and everything was ordered there as if 
 by clockwork. The house-bell, clanged by 
 Mr. Mulbery, the solemn butler, summoned 
 all from bed inexorably at a certain hour — 
 too inexorably Mabel and her friends con- 
 ceived, if they had come but a short time be- 
 fore from a ball. A second rang for prayers, 
 a third for breakfast, and so on ; and, under
 
 78 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 Mr. Brooke's regime^ none dared to be lag- 
 gard. 
 
 ^Loving-kindness is greater than laws/ 
 saith the Hebrews, ' and the charities of life 
 more than all ceremonies.' Thus, with all the 
 forms observed at Thaneshurst, it was a kindly 
 and hospitable household, in which at times, 
 especially about Christmas-tide, much of old- 
 fashioned jollity mingled with the refinement 
 of a modern country mansion. 
 
 The most pleasant feature in the hospitality 
 of Thaneshurst was, that visitors there did 
 just as they chose. The scenery for miles 
 round, with its chalky formations called downs, 
 its open hills with fresh verdure and hollow 
 combs, was beautiful. The stables had plenty 
 of horse-flesh, and the coach-houses supplied 
 every kind of vehicle, from the stately carriage 
 with its hammer- cloth, and the 'bus that 
 took the servants to church, down to the little 
 basket phaeton, with its white ponies, in which 
 Mabel, with one of her friends, took many a 
 summer drive. 
 
 And more than once it had been declared
 
 THANESHURST. 79 
 
 at the Hussar mess that for what some one 
 calls ' a thorough-going cross-country flirta- 
 tion, by Jove, there is no place like old 
 Brooke's at Thaneshurst !' 
 
 Pupkins, in irreproachable livery, met 
 Stanley and Seymour at the Lewes station, 
 and in a smart bang-up trap conveyed them, 
 their portmanteaus and gun-cases, along the 
 chalky highway, off which they, after a few 
 miles' drive, turned down the avenue that l^d 
 to Thaneshurst; and as they passed a glade 
 in the sunshiny grounds, Stanley's quick, and 
 perhaps too readily suspicious, eye saw 
 Captain Reynolds, in an accurate morning 
 costume, though in the country, with Milly 
 Allingham, w^alking slowly — Stanley thought 
 ' a deuced deal too slowly ' — towards the 
 house. 
 
 He was bending towards her; and as he 
 spoke her eyes were cast downward, and with 
 a quick hand she was twirling the parasol that 
 rested on her right shoulder: thus Stanley 
 could see that she was smiling brightly. Sey- 
 mour, who was gazing intently in another
 
 80 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 direction, did not observe them ; and some 
 secret emotion made his friend keep silent on 
 the subject of his own mortification. 
 
 ' How long have they been together? How 
 often are they together thus? On what terms 
 are they?' thought he. 'How long has this 
 sort of thing been going on ? Fool that 1 was 
 to come here, only to be tortured by what I 
 may see or suspect !' 
 
 Another minute or so, and the trap was 
 pulled up under the porte-cochere^ where Mr. 
 Mulbery and two tall footmen were in wait- 
 ins:. Mr. and Mrs. Brooke had driven in the 
 carriage to Pyecombe ; the young ladies were 
 all in the grounds; the dinner-bell would be 
 rung in an hour. Meantime he would show 
 them their rooms, and send up wine. 
 
 The chance information that ' the young 
 ladies were all in the grounds,' afforded some 
 little consolation to Stanley ; but wherever 
 they were, none were near Milly Allingham 
 and Reynolds, — they, at least, had their tete-d- 
 tete promenade to themselves. 
 
 Stanley drained a bumper of sherry, as if
 
 THANESHURST. 81 
 
 to drown his sense of annoyance ; and, after 
 his 'traps' had been unpacked, proceeded to 
 make a more than usually elaborate evening 
 toilet, muttering, as he rasped away at his 
 thick brown hair with a couple of ivory-handled 
 brushes, 
 
 'What the devil is the use? It is perhaps 
 all over now, and I should not have come here. 
 However, I can easily get the adjutant, or some 
 fellow at the Rag, to telegraph for me on ur- 
 gent business, if I find the necessity of hooking 
 it, and leaving the Guards in possession of the 
 field; 
 
 And in this mood of mind he leisurely 
 descended to the drawing-room, after the first 
 or warning bell had rung for dinner; and 
 Seymour, who had heard him descend, and 
 had a comical half-dread of encountering Mrs. 
 Brooke alone, hurried after him; and the 
 modulated hum of female voices announced 
 that the ladies had already assembled and were 
 awaiting them. 
 
 When Seymour entered the room, to his 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 BID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 infinite relief Mrs. Brooke was not vet there; 
 but Mabel was. 
 
 For some time past the whole thought of 
 the latter had been, that Tom Seymour was 
 actually coming again to Thaneshurst — ^very 
 soon. In an hour he would be here ! How 
 would he, how should she, comport themselves 
 under the vigilance to which they would be 
 subjected ? Poor Mabel felt now that quicken- 
 ing and fullness of the heart which a timid 
 actress may feel before the rising of the act- 
 drop, when an impatient and critical ' house' 
 sits beyond it. 
 
 In this instance ' the house' was mamma.
 
 CHAPTER YIL 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 
 
 Amid the usual greetings and commonplaces, 
 tlie inevitable discussion concerning the wea- 
 ther, and Mabel's apologies for the absence of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Brooke, Milly's account of her 
 mother's health at Wiesbaden, the prospects 
 of sport on the coming 1st, and so forth, our 
 four chief friends failed to conceal from each 
 other a certain nervousness of manner, and a 
 tendency to talk rapidly, and to invest trifles 
 with a sound of importance they scarcely 
 merited. 
 
 Milly Allingham could not repress a blush 
 on seeing Stanley, when she recalled their last 
 interview and farewell in -London. She could 
 not forget that he had made her a declaration 
 of love most tenderly and earnestly, and that 
 she had — Heaven alone knew why — met it 
 mockingly, even while longing and fully ex-
 
 84 • DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 pecting to hear it made again. She could not 
 doubt that he had gladly accepted the invita- 
 tion to Thaneshurst, and come hither to cast 
 himself once more in her way. One moment 
 she felt flattered by this idea, and the next 
 found all her fcoo-ready pride alarmed, lest he 
 should imagine that she had some influence in 
 procuring the invitation so accorded. 
 
 And so, with every-day commonplaces on 
 their lips, each of the two friends looked upon 
 the face which, in the love of his heart, made 
 all other beauty seem plain, and over which 
 that passion cast a halo, as it were, of divi- 
 nity. 
 
 There was a shy smile of fondness — but 
 every smile of hers was a caress — in the love- 
 lit eyes of Mabel Brooke that made the heart 
 of Seymour dance, when again he felt in his 
 the pressure of her little hand — ' the link be- 
 tween him and happiness, which to surrender, 
 never to clasp again, would be simply the 
 blank and bitterness of death.' 
 
 Meanwhile Stanley was surmising whether 
 Milly was pleased that he had come : her vanity
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 85 
 
 was certain to be. Was she annoyed that he 
 had seen her promenading alone with Reynolds, 
 instead of some other man ? Stanley found an 
 answer to these silent questions impossible; 
 but there was a serene hauteur in her bearing 
 that was born of the very suspicion that her 
 actions were under supervision or control by 
 him. 
 
 ' Ha, Stanley, glad to see you again !' said 
 Reynolds cordially, as he came loungingly to- 
 wards the new-comers in full dinner costume. 
 'We thought you would have turned up on 
 the 7th of the month. Miss Allingham assured 
 us that she was certain you would do so.' 
 
 ' On the 7th ?' repeated Stanley, perplexed, 
 and still more so to see the colour deepening 
 with annoyance in the face of Milly. 
 
 ' It was the last Brighton race-day,' ex- 
 plained Reynolds ; ' I had my drag and team 
 down from town.' 
 
 'It was a delightful day,' said Mabel to 
 Seymour; 'the course was crowded. From 
 the downs we had a charming view of the sea; 
 and when the races were over, we had luncheon
 
 86 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 in the Hussar mess-room, ''by invitation from 
 Maj or L arksp iir . ' ' ' 
 
 'She had been thinking of me, then, at 
 least,' thought Stanley — 'perhaps longing for 
 me ! Was the chance expectation inspired by 
 the wish ? and were some of those Hussars a 
 counterfoil to Reynolds ?' 
 
 But the face of Milly answered none of 
 those questions; however, her usually serene 
 expression was somewhat gone. She was look- 
 ing more annoyed than ever, and there was 
 actually an angry curl on her lovely lip. The 
 Guardsman's remark had proved, somehow, a 
 blunder. 
 
 They were now joined by Alfred Foxley, 
 who came, redolent of brandy-and- water and 
 cigar-smoke, from the billiard-room, where he 
 had been playing one hand against the other, 
 or practising cannons ; and whatever were the 
 real emotions that inspired him towards Sey- 
 mour, he had the good grace to welcome him 
 as warmly as he did Stanley. And now the 
 conversation became more easy and general; 
 but in spite of himself a sense of constraint, of
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 87 
 
 vague indignation, stole over Stanley, and he 
 found himself, during the dull time that always 
 precedes a somewhat formal dinner, talking 
 more to Miss Conyers and other ladies than to 
 her who, for months past, had never been ab- 
 sent from his mind — the first thought in the 
 morninc; and the last at nio;ht. 
 
 ' Can it be,' he sometimes asked himself, 
 ' that she cares neither for me nor any other 
 man so much as the visible conquest? By 
 Jove! I shall be pretty sure of my ground, 
 and have some solid data to go upon, ere I 
 make a fool of myself again with her, or any 
 other woman !' 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Brooke now arrived, within 
 a few minutes of each other. As for the latter, 
 the sample we have given of her advice to 
 Mabel on the night of their last ball concern- 
 ing Captain Reynolds, and so forth, may serve 
 as an epitome of the general tone and phase of 
 her character, and may explain why her greet- 
 ing of Seymour, though perfectly well bred, 
 was far from 'gushing.' Her husband wel- 
 comed both guests with equal warmth, but if
 
 88 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 there was any difference, perhaps it was in 
 Tom's favour. 
 
 Mr. Brooke was always more cheery even 
 in the country than in town, and never looked 
 so old as his years, — he was so hearty, healthy, 
 and rubicund, with merry blue eyes, well-pre- 
 served teeth, and a pate that shone like a bil- 
 liard-ball; and now, as usual, he was dressed 
 for the evening scrupulously in black, with a 
 stiff white cravat and angular collar, and 
 shaven to a nicety, with his silver hair brushed 
 up in two sharp peaks, one over each ear. 
 
 ' Welcome to Thaneshurst, Captain Stan- 
 ley!' said he; 'and welcome too, Tom; but it 
 is not your first visit, and 1 hope it won't be 
 the last by many,' he added, taking Seymour 
 prisoner by the watch-chain, and drawing him 
 into an oriel. 'Lord, Lord, Tom!' he added, 
 ' how like your father you do grow every day 
 as you get older! You quite remind me of 
 the time when he and I used to hob-nob over 
 our pints of bitter and a chop at the Three 
 Snipes in Cheapside, and thought it so jolly to 
 get a pit-order for the theatre or a night at
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 89 
 
 Cremorne; or when we got a holiday, Tom, 
 and took our sisters — and quite as often other 
 folks' sisters — to tea and shrimps and the con- 
 templation of river scenery from the back 
 windows of the Jackdaw at Gravesend, — proud 
 of cheap cigars, and voting a clay-pipe, espe- 
 cially a yard of it, vulgar. My eye ! what fun 
 Ave used to have ! Nothing like it now, Tom, 
 I often think.' 
 
 These and suchlike reminiscences were gall 
 and wormwood and intense vexation of spirit 
 to Mrs. Brooke ; so she verily hated Tom Sey- 
 mour for his alleged likeness to his father — 
 though he had been the groomsman at her 
 marriage — and for the memories he revived in 
 the old man's mind; and now she was still 
 further irritated to perceive the slightly-ele- 
 vated eyebrows and mildly-amused expression 
 of the magnificent lieynolds, whom she sought 
 to engage in conversation. 
 
 Poor Mr. Brooke had no share either in 
 her false pride or secret ambition, and occa- 
 sionally felt now that he ' took out' in fashion 
 and show much that he had lost of fun, free-
 
 90 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 dom, and jollity in the old times that could 
 come no more. He looked timidly towards 
 his better half, fearing that he had said some- 
 thing he should not have said, and then 
 glanced at the ormolu clock on the blue velvet- 
 fringed mantelpiece, and saw that dinner would 
 be served in five minutes now. 
 
 Assuming the most calm and casual tone 
 he could command, after a few remarks about 
 the emptiness, the heat, and dust of London, 
 Stanley, while bending over Miss Allingham's 
 chair, said, 
 
 ' You did not mention, when last I had the 
 pleasure of seeing you, that our — that my 
 friend Keynolds was to be here.' 
 
 She coloured slightly for a second, and 
 replied, 
 
 ' I was on the point of doing so — it was so 
 natural among mutual friends, when I was 
 about to visit the same house; but we were 
 interrupted by visitors, you remember.' 
 
 He was not likely to forget, as their un- 
 welcome arrival interrupted more important 
 matter than information about the tall Guards-
 
 THE PROGKESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 91 
 
 man's movements. It might really be the case, 
 as she said, that no concealment had been in- 
 tended in the matter ; but while she felt angrily 
 that it was implied, the calmness and perfect 
 composure with which she referred smilingly 
 to a scene that might have ended very dif- 
 ferently ruffled and piqued Stanley now, and 
 he ao:ain withdrew to the side of Miss Con- 
 yers. 
 
 Seymour was watching them narrowly, 
 and thought to himself, ' Somehow, these two 
 never will get on.' ♦ 
 
 He liked Milly and admired her, of course, 
 though her mother, from whom she inherited 
 her troublesome pride and hauteur, had once 
 given him an affront, which — though to Milly 
 unknown — he never forgot. In a sudden 
 burst of eiFusion, when handing her to her 
 carriage at the Brookes' door, she had once 
 invited him to call at Connaught Terrace, but 
 omitted to give his name to the Cerberus in a 
 long coat with gilt buttons, who sat in the 
 hall chair and had supervision of her visiting- 
 list; and who, on Tom handing him his card,
 
 92 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 carefully scanned the said document from top 
 to bottom, and then from bottom to top, 
 through more than two hundred names, after 
 which he said solemnly, 
 
 ^ Sir, Mrs. Allingham is not at home.' 
 ' Not at home to me — that, I suppose, is the 
 right reading of it,' thought Tom, as he turned 
 in rather a vicious frame of mind into the 
 Edgeware Road. ^ Why the deuce did the old 
 woman ask me to call?' he added, never sup- 
 posing in his simplicity that she had dismissed 
 the general invitation from her mind the mo- 
 ment it was given. So much for hazy West- 
 end hospitality. He felt thankful as he gazed 
 at Mabel that no such affront had ever been 
 put upon him, even by Mrs. Brooke. How- 
 ever, he was yet to learn of what that good 
 lady was capable when roused. 
 
 Mabel and he had fallen in love with each 
 other, if not ^ at first sight,' to use a very 
 hackneyed expression, at least very soon after, 
 and that love had ripened fast amid the partial 
 seclusion and opportunities afforded by such a 
 country house as Thaneshurst; and hence
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 93 
 
 their intimacy became ' a method of establish- 
 ing a preference which is intelligible to some,' 
 says Mrs. Norton, ' but which nevertheless as- 
 serts its triumphant claim to be as good a 
 method as anj^ other, by some happy union 
 which proves that the suddenness of the choice 
 was no bar to constancy, nor evidence of shal- 
 lowness.' 
 
 And while this un avowed love was grow- 
 ing in his heart, he little knew how often Mrs. 
 Brooke had said to her husband, 
 
 ' That young man should not be here : he 
 is not in our set.^ 
 
 As for Mr. Brooke, he did not and would 
 not see all this. If the young folks liked each 
 other's society, why shouldn't they ? He never 
 troubled himself about the matter, though Mrs. 
 Brooke did. He found young Tom Seymour 
 an agreeable addition to his family circle ; he 
 could speak about business generally, was ' up' 
 in the 'money article,' and knew many other 
 things that were to the Guardsman, and even 
 Stanley, things mysterious and unknown ; and 
 his calculations went no further.
 
 94 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 At last the gong sounded like distant thun- 
 der in the lower regions, and the company 
 filed off, Mr. Brooke leading the way with the 
 vicar, Stanley pairing off with little Miss Con- 
 yers, Milly with Reynolds, and Mabel with 
 some one else — not Tom, however, her mamma 
 took care of that ; and the great meal of the 
 day, or the evening after, was served up in due 
 solemnity and state. 
 
 It seemed, however, to Stanley that Rey- 
 nolds had offered his arm to Miss Allingham 
 very much as if it were a matter of course or 
 use and wont. Was it all an understood thing ? 
 To Miss Conyers, we fear, he was not very at- 
 tentive, though he strove to be so, for his 
 thoughts had taken more than ever the turn 
 of self-torment ; and when under that process 
 it is astonishing how ingenious and creative 
 we can be. 
 
 Whatever might be the thoughts or aspira- 
 tions of some of those present, especially those 
 in whom we hope to interest the reader, the 
 dinner passed like any other. Mrs. Brooke was 
 rather vain of her cuisine; thus it was perfect
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 95 
 
 in all its component parts, from the Victoria 
 soup, over which the vicar intoned the grace, 
 and the vol-au-vent a la jinanciere^ the entrees 
 and more solid dishes, to the eclairs a la f ran- 
 gipane de vanille^ and the fruit from the vineries 
 and hothouses of Thaneshurst, whose superin- 
 tendent, Mr. Digory Dig weed, was celebrated 
 over all that district for his grapes. 
 
 It was a dinner to which even lovers misrht 
 
 o 
 
 do justice, and at which the eminently respect- 
 able-looking Mr. Mulbery superintended the 
 due libations of wine. 
 
 Not being a sportsman, Mr. Brooke cared 
 little about the prospects of the 1st, and 
 would not join Reynolds and Stanley in their 
 condemnation of reaping - machines, which 
 shaved the fields close and bare, leaving no- 
 thing of the high stubble so much affected by 
 the sportsmen of other days, when a good 
 shot was deemed the man who could pick out 
 the old birds from a covey and kill them right 
 off; and though Foxley felt almost inclined 
 to swear at the news, Mr. Brooke heard with 
 perfect equanimity that poachers had been
 
 96 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 laying snares, and drawing fields with nets, 
 laying niglit-lines in the reservoirs elsewhere ; 
 and that one, when captured on ' a shiny 
 night,' had the hardihood to tell the vicar on 
 the bench that he only ' picked up' the hare 
 which was found in his possession. 
 
 The vicar and the village lawyer failed 
 alike to interest when they talked of parish 
 rates and the income-tax, of Ritualism and 
 the erection of a r credos in a neighbouring 
 church; and our friends, though they talked 
 fluently enough on them all, found the dis- 
 cussions on the coming 1st, on rink skating at 
 Eyde or Brighton, or the anticipated plea- 
 sures of a riding party on the morrow with 
 the young ladies, more consonant to their 
 tastes. 
 
 So far as the 1st of September was con- 
 cerned, Tom Seymour was not fated to make 
 'a good bag,' or even fire a shot, as events 
 that could be little foreseen intervened. 
 
 Dinner past, after briefly lingering over 
 their wine and cofl'ee, the ladies were rejoined 
 by the gentlemen in the drawing-room. Al-
 
 THE TROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 1)7 
 
 ready the piano was oj)en, and amid the inter- 
 vals occupied by Balfe and Rossini, Beethoven 
 and Mendelssohn, and while the vicar closely 
 engaged Mrs. Brooke in some matter of local 
 interest, Tom drew near Mabel, though 
 
 7 7 O 
 
 Stanley, with his eyes wandering ever and 
 anon after Milly Allingham, seemed to devote 
 himself to Miss Conyers. 
 
 'He that cannot dissemble in love is not 
 worthy to live,' according to Lillie's Eiipliues. 
 This is rather a severe fiat; yet much dis- 
 sembling is often necessary. Denied by the 
 strict surveillance of her mother, and the 
 jealous watchfulness of her cousin Foxley, the 
 joy of even talking often to each other — Mabel 
 and Seymour — they could at least exchange 
 those stolen glances which, as Byron tells us 
 truly, are the ' sweeter for the theft.' Of 
 these no watchfulness could deprive them; so 
 love throve in silence, and many small and 
 petty details there were, to be conned over by 
 each fondly when apart; for, says a casuist, 
 ' the taste for stratagem, the little wiles and 
 snares inspired by a first passion, are among 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 9 8 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 the strongest incentives to its origin,' and he 
 might have added its permanence. 
 
 'I am so glad we have you here again, 
 Mr. Seymour,' said Mabel quite openly in her 
 mother's hearing, — ' glad for selfish reasons. 
 Papa never plays billiards now, and he gets 
 ' so cross, the dear old thing, when he has bad 
 hands at long whist.' What this had to do 
 • with Tom's visit was not very clear ; but she 
 added, ' And now about to-morrow — ' 
 
 ' I have not a horse,' said Tom ; ' here at 
 least.' 
 
 ' Papa can give you a mount : you can 
 have your choice of the black Irish mare. 
 Neck or Nothing, or the Scots Grey.' 
 
 ^ A deuced good nag — sire Avenger,' com- 
 mented Reynolds, looking up from the side 
 of Milly, with whom he was dawdling over 
 an album ; ' he will carry sixteen stone with 
 the fastest hounds in Sussex.' 
 
 ' I have a fancy to try that horse myself 
 to-morrow,' said Foxley ; ' and so, if Mr. Sey- 
 moiu' preferred the mare — ' 
 
 ^ She is sometimes very unmanageable And
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 99 
 
 tricky, though papa gave 450/. for her ; and 
 unless Mr. Seymour has been riding of late — ' 
 Mabel paused. 
 
 'AVhy did you suggest her, then ?' asked 
 her cousin. 
 
 * It was indeed thoughtless of me,' said 
 Mabel. 
 
 There was a strange smile in Foxley's 
 eyes when they met thos3 of Seymour, who 
 said, 
 
 ' I shall ride the mare with pleasure, Miss 
 Brooke. I have a firm hand and a good seat, 
 and never fear, if there is any mischief in her 
 when we set out, she will come home quiet 
 enough.' 
 
 ' Without her rider, I hope !' thought Fox- 
 ley ; but he only said, with a smile full of 
 insolent meaning, 
 
 ' Any way, we shall not ride by Pyecombe 
 to-morrow,' and moved away. 
 
 Mabel once glanced nervously at Seymour, 
 for it was at P^^ecombe that most terrible 
 mischance occurred — terrible at least in the 
 hunting ^eld— when he rode his horse right
 
 100 DTD SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 among the Brighton harriers, while the whole 
 pack were going so close that a table-cloth 
 might have covered them. 
 
 ' Milly has suggested we shall go round 
 by Brighton, Hangleton, and so on to the 
 South Downs,' said Mabel, speaking very 
 quickly, in hope that her cousin's rude speech 
 had been unheard by Seymour. 
 
 ' By Brighton be it, then,' said Reynolds, 
 twirling his tawny moustache. ' I am sure 
 we could not have a better guide to pleasant 
 scenery than Miss Allingham. What do you 
 think, Stanley?' 
 
 'I have no opinion on the matter,' replied 
 Rowland, with a ' company smile.' ' The 
 country hereabout is quite new to me.' 
 
 ' I will show you, Mr. Seymour,' resumed 
 Mabel, 'where, when Milly and I were out 
 with the harriers, a good hare, which was 
 found in a field, went straight over by Poyn- 
 ings and Edburton, then right away down by 
 the river, where he took shelter in some large 
 rabbit-burrows, among which Milly's horse 
 would have come down had not Captain
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 101 
 
 Eeynolds and his friend Larkspur of the Hus- 
 sars been close at hand to grasp her bridle. 
 I Avas so glad the hare escaped us, as I always 
 shudder to see the poor things killed, and 
 their cries are so piteous.' 
 
 'Reynolds again — and Reynolds always!' 
 thought Stanley. 
 
 ' It w^as to reward him for that,' said little 
 Fanny Conyers, all unaware that she would 
 stick a pin into her companion, ' she made 
 Captain Reynolds such a beautiful set of co- 
 lours, in Avhich he is to ride a steeplechase 
 next week.' 
 
 ' The deuce she has !' muttered Stanley 
 under his breath. All such trifles and indi- 
 cations galled him, as adding to the sum-total 
 of his doubt and jealousy. ' I am a fool to 
 have come here !' 
 
 Music chiefly filled up the evening till the 
 time came for retiring — the ladies to rest, the 
 four younger men to have a farewell 'weed' 
 in the smoking-room for an hour or so, that 
 w^as passed less soothingly by the old lord of 
 the manor.
 
 102 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 Less ambitious, we have said, than his 
 Vvdfe, old Mr. Brooke would have been very 
 content to see his gentle Mabel the wife of 
 his nepheAv and favourite Alf Foxley, who 
 seemed so fond of her ; but the idea of him 
 being a suitor for his cousin came as little 
 into the scope of Mrs. Brooke's plans or 
 thoughts, as did Tom Seymour into those of 
 her inferior half. At the latter she had looked, 
 much — volumes indeed — all that evening, but 
 said nothing till she could borrow a leaf from 
 Mrs. Caudle; and they were barely abed when 
 she opened fire upon him. 
 
 ' So, after all, you have brought that Mr. 
 Seymour among us again, Mr. Brooke!' she 
 exclaimed, in a tone indicative more of anger 
 than sorrow. 
 
 ' Why not, Martha, my dear ? His father 
 was the best friend I ever had in the City, 
 long ago.' 
 
 ' Best fiddlestick ! What is the use of a 
 young man with only two or three hundred 
 a year, and no expectations ?' 
 
 ' Use — in what way, Martha ?'
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 103 
 
 ' Pshaw !' 
 
 ' I have no doubt he would rather have 
 six or seven hundred a year if he could.' 
 
 ' He is so poor.' 
 
 ' Well, Martha, / wasn't rich once.' 
 
 'So you were vulgar enough to remember, 
 John, with your wretched souvenirs of Graves- 
 end and Cremorne. I wonder what Captain 
 Reynolds thought.' 
 
 ' 1 don't care a doit what he thought,' 
 replied the old gentleman testily. 
 
 ' After all I have told you — do you hear 
 me, Mr. Brooke?' 
 
 ' Yes, Martha dear, well.' 
 
 ' After all I have urged again and again, 
 I say you have brought here that young man, 
 who seems to admire Mabel, and who is not 
 in our set.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! What's our " set," I should 
 like to know ? And as for Mabel, I wouldn't 
 give house-room to any man who didn't ad- 
 mire her. Then as for Tom, he is a good, and 
 his father was a jolly good, fellow; and many 
 a bit of blue paper poor old Tom did for me,
 
 104 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 Martha, in the days when I never thought 
 we should drift so far westward as Park 
 Lane and Tyburnia. What can you lay 
 to young Seymour's charge, save that he is 
 poor ?' 
 
 ^ Js not that enough, Mr. Brooke?' 
 ' Well, as I said, I was poor enough myself 
 once,* urged the old gentleman almost pite- 
 ously. ' Poor old Tom Seymour — Tom I^oddy 
 we used to call him, though he wasn't a noddy 
 a bit, but an uncommonly smart fellow. Lord, 
 how ill we used to make ourselves with the 
 cheap cigars and " old-and-bitter" out of pew- 
 ter at the Hen and Chickens ! He insured his 
 life for his wife and young Tom, but left the 
 management of it to a lawyer fellow, who 
 cheated them both. Now, Martha dear, please 
 to let me sleep.' 
 
 ' Sleep !' snapped the lady. 
 ' Yes; and don't bother, old ducky.' 
 ' You do nothing but sleep, or if awake 
 you thwart and cross me.' 
 
 Mr. Brooke turned on the other tack, and 
 resolved on resolute silence.
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 105 
 
 ' Now listen to me for the last time : do 
 vou hear me, Mr. Brooke ?' 
 
 But ere she could say what she intended, 
 a prolonged snore — real or pretended — gave 
 a hint that the lecture had ended for the 
 night.
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 THE EIDING PARTY. 
 
 At Thaneshurst everything, even to the dis- 
 posal of his own time, was at the behest of 
 the visitor: he could gallop on the downs, 
 drive to Brighton, iish in the Ouse, if aught 
 was to be fished there; boat if he chose, shoot, 
 go out with the harriers, or stay at home, if 
 it listed him, to philander on the terrace or 
 in the conservatory. Hence all looked for- 
 ward with pleasure to the riding party ; ^nd 
 during breakfast the route to be chosen was 
 left entirely to Mabel and Milly Allingham. 
 
 The morning was lovely: it was one of 
 the last days of August ; the extreme verdure 
 of the groves and hedgerows was past ; but 
 the golden fruit was ripening in the orchards, 
 and there were already tints in the woods 
 which some prefer to the loveliest blossoms 
 of April and May ; and from the windows of
 
 THE RIDING PARTY. 107 
 
 Thaneshurst the distant sea could be seen 
 glittering in light, and in the middle distance 
 the green-velvet verdure of the downs, in the 
 combs and hollows between which the silvery 
 morning mist yet lingered. 
 
 All were in high spirits : the equestrians 
 were to start soon, that they might return in 
 time to luncheon, as the evening was to be 
 devoted to a great croquet party at the house 
 of a friend; so, while the ladies sipped their 
 coifee out of the most delicate Wedgwood, 
 Reynolds, Stanley, and others, who were more 
 used to club-life, made a meal that might have 
 served for Lucullus — to their coffee adding 
 cutlets, devilled kidneys, and champagne, with 
 other delicacies ad libitum. 
 
 On this morning Seymour was rather sur- 
 prised to find that Alfred Foxley was more 
 than usually attentive to him: pressed some 
 of his most choice cigars upon him, and in- 
 sisted upon his imbibing more champagne 
 than, at an hour so unwonted, Tom had ever 
 drunk in his life before; and all the while 
 ' cousin Alf ' had a glitter in his gray-green
 
 108 DID SHE LOVE IIIM ? 
 
 eyes, and a strange smile on his thin lips, 
 which his red moustache concealed. 
 
 'While with us, Seymour,' said he, * you 
 must ride daily and ride hard. You are get- 
 ting too fleshy; we'll have to get you a seven- 
 pound saddle. The fact is, you government 
 officials feed too well, and so get out of 
 form.' 
 
 Tom laughed, and murmured some pro- 
 test that he did not think so. While aware 
 that he did not keep a nag, and was not a 
 very experienced horseman, Foxley did his 
 utmost to scare him — as it was proposed when 
 returning to have a free gallop over hedges 
 and walls — by a narrative of rotten ditches, 
 made so to betray the unwary, of drains dug- 
 deep enough to break a horse's back, of gates 
 that swung open and caught one's nag in at- 
 tempting to clear them, of stone walls that 
 Avere certain to smash a rider s skull if his 
 horse fell back upon him. 
 
 ' We shall meet with no such thino:s in our 
 homeward ride, I am sure ' said Sevmour 
 laughingly. ' Any way, we shall take every-
 
 THE RIDING PARTY. 109 
 
 thin^ as it comes, or go crash through it, as 
 the case may prove.' 
 
 Reynolds, the Guardsman, saw something 
 of Foxley's secret game, and smiled to him- 
 self. In fact, ' cousin Alf ' had a natural inso- 
 lence of character, and that, with a perfect 
 conviction that his means, though far inferior 
 to his wants and extravagance, were greatly 
 superior to those of Seymour, and that his 
 position in the family and household as kins- 
 man of the heiress of Thaneshurst was a con- 
 firmed one, gave him every advantage in the 
 furtherance of his ultimate views. He had 
 thus, take it all in all, a species of contempt 
 blended with his intense hate of Seymour, 
 which made him deem that young fellow be- 
 neath him — ' a muff,' in fact, which Tom was 
 not by any means. 
 
 ' Please, Alf, to leave my Berlin wools 
 alone,' said Mabel to that personage, who 
 seemed busy at her work-table in the recess 
 of a window. ' Now, you tiresome Alf, what 
 are you doing, twiddling all my bodkins so !' 
 
 He only laughed and turned away to leave
 
 110 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 the room, with a shade of confusion on his face 
 noticed by Stanley alone ; but it was very 
 curious that a few minutes afterwards, when 
 requiring it, Mabel found one of her sharp 
 steel bodkins missing, and nowhere could it 
 be found. 
 
 Could she have looked into Foxley's room 
 at that moment she might have seen him 
 curiously fixing that identical bodkin into the 
 shank of his riding-whip, making it a species 
 of goad, and muttering while he did so, 
 
 ' So she is to show him where the hare was 
 found in the field. I'll give the Irish mare a 
 j)rod with this as she takes the rasper, that 
 will make a rasper for Seymour to remember 
 to the end of his days. But it is Lombard 
 Street to a China orange that hell break his 
 infernal neck.' 
 
 And the further to achieve this, to him, 
 desirable end he had desired Pupkins, the 
 groom, to give the mare — at all times restive 
 enough — an extra feed of corn betimes ; and 
 though Pupkins deemed it unnecessary he 
 nevertheless complied. The friendly Alf Fox-
 
 THE EIDING PARTY. Ill 
 
 ley wished her to come forth so fresh and 
 skittish that he would have given her a hot 
 mash with whisky in it had he dared. 
 
 ' Won't it be nuts to see him on the Irish 
 mare, a regular flyer, from head to heel, espe- 
 cially with the spur I shall put into her ! I'll 
 have another weed on the head of it.' 
 
 Unaware of all these little attentions and 
 preliminaries, Seymour was thinking only with 
 delight of the open hint he had received to 
 ride by Mabel's side, and that she was to show 
 him where the hare was found, and so forth ; 
 and when the whole party were ready, Stanley 
 came forth determined, so far as he was con- 
 cerned, to leave all to the doctrine of chances. 
 If fate put him by the side of Milly, all good 
 and well ; if not, he strove to think he would 
 not care ; but we fear he strove in vain. 
 
 Of all the four — for there were two Miss 
 Conyers — Milly Allingham looked the most 
 excelling in her dark-blue habit, which fitted 
 her fine and round yet slender figure to per- 
 fection ; and to perfection also were the masses 
 of her dark-brown hair, tightly and curiously
 
 112 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 coiled up at the back of her head, thus throw- 
 ing a little over her forehead the smartest of 
 riding-hats ; and, to her well-fitting gauntlets 
 and gold-mounted switch, her toilet was com- 
 plete. 
 
 The cattle were all in fine condition ; and 
 leavino: the ladies to be assisted into their sad- 
 dies by any one who chose, Foxley, full of his 
 own thoughts, was alread}^ curveting about 
 on Scots Grey. Pupkins, the principal groom, 
 a long-bodied and short-legged man, with a 
 small mean face, with weasel eyes and closely 
 shaven chin, well-worn velveteen jacket and 
 very loose cord breeches, now led forward, 
 with something of an air of pride, the Irish 
 mare Neck or Nothing. 
 
 She was indeed a splendid creature, of a 
 jet-black colour, with a skin like satin, and a 
 white star on her forehead, in full condition, 
 bursting with mischief, and matchless in sym- 
 metry ; but at times she had an ugly way 
 of throwing her eyes backward and showing 
 a little too much of the white thereof. 
 
 Yal Reynolds, who, with all his ' Dun-
 
 THE RIDING PARTY. 113 
 
 drearyism,' was a good-natured fellow, thought 
 that Seymour could scarcely handle such a 
 nag, and, as he afterwards said, was on thci 
 pomt of offering to ride her himself, but feared 
 to give offence by interfering, and thus left 
 the over-night arrangement to be carried out 
 by those most interested in the affair, and 
 swung the Conyers girls deftly into the saddle, 
 adjusted their stirrups, and arranged their 
 reins. 
 
 ' Is she not a beautiful creature, Mr. Sey- 
 mour?' exclaimed Fanny Conyers, her little 
 face flushed with excitement and pleasure. 
 
 Tom scarcely shared her enthusiasm ; and 
 though far from being a timid horseman, he 
 feared that he had been ' trapped,' and felt 
 instinctively that to-day he would require all 
 his skill and energy ; yet he examined the bit 
 in the most approved fashion, and taking the 
 stirrup-iron in hand, brought it sharply under 
 his right arm to try the length of the leather ; 
 while, as Mabel patted the mare's side with 
 her gloved hand, the animal swerved viciously 
 round in the groom's hand. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 114 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ' Take care, miss,' exclaimed old Pupkins ; 
 ' for the Lord's sake, keep clear of her hind 
 feet ; she is apt to lash out a little now and 
 then.' 
 
 ' It is only play,' said Foxley. 
 
 ' But main dangerous, Muster Alf,' re- 
 torted the groom. ' She is a rare good un. 
 Miss Mabel ; you've seen how she can top a 
 wall, though she does buck -jump, as all them 
 Hirish ones does. You'll find her a capital 
 fencer, sir,' he added to Seymour ; ' only see 
 that she lifts her head well while about it.' 
 
 'What does it all mean?' thought Tom; for 
 somehow old Pupkins seemed to talk as if they 
 were all going to a steeplechase instead of a 
 quiet ride round Brighton. 
 
 Stanley lifted Milly to her saddle, and 
 Reynolds did the same office for Mabel, Sey- 
 mour not venturing to do so while the eye 
 of Mrs. Brooke w^as on him from the arch 
 of the porte-cochere^ where she and her spouse 
 stood smilingly to see the party off, so full 
 of pleasure and laughter, attended by a couple 
 of well-mounted grooms in orthodox riding-
 
 THE RIDING PARTY. 115 
 
 suits. Mr. Brooke, though caring nothing 
 about it, knew how to do all this sort of thing 
 well. ' Papa, dear old man,' as Mabel said, 
 ^ subscribes to the hounds of course, but would 
 no more think of following them than going 
 in a balloon.' 
 
 'Take care, Tom; do take care, my dear 
 boy !* cried Mr. Brooke, as Seymour's mare 
 manifested a violent desire to go persistently 
 sideways, or, as Pupkins phrased it, 'ran up 
 a tree if she could.' 
 
 As they rode down the avenue, Mr. Brooke 
 lingered, with his left hand under his coat-tail, 
 like Mr. Pickwick, the other waving in the air, 
 and, like Mr. P., his eyes ' were beaming with 
 benevolence' through his gold-rimmed spec- 
 tacles ; and Mrs. Brooke was thinking of her 
 last confidence to Captain Reynolds to take 
 care of her Mabel, who was 'such a timid 
 thing on horseback' — a little fib made up for 
 the nonce; for Mabel, with all her softness, 
 was nothing of the kind ; but, to her annoy- 
 ance, she saw the captain riding by the side 
 of Miss Allingham. While the party wheeled
 
 116 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 into the sunny Lewes road, Seymour's mare, 
 now reduced to calmness, ambled by the side 
 of Mabel's bay pad with provoking proximity, 
 as Mrs. Brooke said. 
 
 Tom sat the black mare well, and Mabel 
 thouo'ht — and she was rio;ht — that he had 
 about him the indescribable look and bearing 
 of a gentleman ; and the girl was very happy, 
 for now, in the innocence of her heart, she 
 could calculate on the pleasure of his society 
 for a little time without alloy or the worry- 
 ing circumspection enforced by the presence 
 of mamma. 
 
 How little could she imagine that Foxley, 
 who rode between them, chatting merrily to 
 both, was in full hope to see Tom flying 
 through the mare's ears before very long !
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PRINCE OF WALES'S OWN HUSSAllS. 
 
 Rowland Stanley was coinpelled to admit to 
 himself that there was a certain undefinable 
 awkwardness in his present relations with 
 Milly Allingham. Neither could forget their 
 last meeting or parting, and what had passed 
 between them then. A Rubicon had been 
 crossed by his avowal, which made them more 
 to each other than mere acquaintances or even 
 friends ; but nothing had come of it ; and even 
 with all the facilities afforded by a visit to 
 Thaneshurst it was doubtful how, when, or 
 where, if ever again, the subject nearest the 
 hearts of both — of him most assuredly — 
 would be resumed. 
 
 The difficulty of chatting gaily with her, 
 as he could do with her lady-friends, made 
 him adopt another extreme, and become re- 
 served, almost shy, in fact ; and thus he, with
 
 118 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 emotions of jealous annoyance hard to describe, 
 left her almost entirely to Reynolds or any 
 one else. 
 
 Milly saw and knew all this ; and the con- 
 viction of the cause from which his apparent 
 coldness sprung was very soothing to that 
 young lady's pride. While conversing and 
 laughing merrily, they rode on amid the 
 scenery that spoke so genuinely of Sussex: 
 now between fields of rich pasture in varied 
 stripes of green — the farmer's posy — with 
 light and shadow playing on the swelling 
 downs, and the white chalky scaurs in the 
 middle distance, with dark-browed hills be- 
 yond. The downs looked green and high, 
 almost like miniature mountains, with white 
 sheep— the famous ' south-downs' — feeding 
 far up their sides, and standing in gray relief 
 against the clear blue sky. 
 
 After passing Ovingdean, a place about 
 three miles from Brighton, and having a scam- 
 per round the racecourse, as they drew near 
 the cavalry barracks, a regular pile of build- 
 ings on the Lewes road, three officers of
 
 PRINCE OF WALES's OWN HUSSARS. 119 
 
 Hussars, in frogged patrol jackets and the 
 daintiest of forage-caps, came cantering gaily 
 up to the party, in a manner which, to Stan- 
 ley's cloudy mind, remembering all that Milly 
 had suggested yesterday of proceeding by 
 Brighton and Hangleton, had an unpleasant 
 air of some foreknowledge or pre-arrangement. 
 
 ' Is this chance or mere coquetry?' thought 
 he, as he detected a deepening colour in her 
 cheek and a brighter sparkle in her eye, as 
 they reined-in their horses, and paid the usual 
 greetings, with all the finished air of well-bred 
 men. 
 
 ' The Master of Badenoch, Major Larkspur, 
 and Mr. Craven — Captain Stanley,' said Rey- 
 nolds, introducing them. • 
 
 ' Ah ! — remember you — met at the Rag, I 
 think,' said the first named, a handsome and 
 good-humoured-looking young fellow, who 
 seemed on excellent terms with himself and 
 all the world, and, like his two companions, 
 seemed a fair specimen of the English cavalry 
 officer, who, in tone and bearing, is superior 
 to every other in the world.
 
 120 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ^Out for a canter, eh?' asked the major. 
 
 'Yes/ said Mabel; 'we propose to go as 
 far as Bramber.' 
 
 'May we join you, Miss Brooke?' asked 
 the major. 
 
 'With pleasure.' So the three Hussars 
 wheeled round their horses at once, and the 
 party proceeded at an easy walk. The Hussars 
 had nearly all been at Thaneshurst to break- 
 fast and a lawn-meet, so the house was popu- 
 lar with the regiment, which had given a ball 
 in return ; and that event had been followed 
 by more walks on the West Pier, croquet- 
 parties, visits to the Aquarium, and lounges 
 in the Pavilion, than our two friends had the 
 least idea of; but Stanley was not a little sur- 
 prised to find his usually proud and reserved 
 idol was as much at home with the new 
 accessions to the party as with Reynolds, and 
 far more than with himself, who had already 
 said that he loved her. Was her pride becom- 
 ing vanity, her calm yet free manner aplomb ? 
 This was impossible, unless her character had 
 changed.
 
 PRINCE OF WALES's OWN HUSSARS. 121 
 
 He said something of this, as he dropped 
 a little way behind with his friend. 
 
 'Have you forgotten, Rowland,' said the 
 latter, ' that 
 
 " Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, 
 And Mammon wins his way when seraphs might des- 
 pair " ]' 
 
 ' I don't think there is much of the seraph 
 about me, Tom,' muttered Stanley ; ' but I 
 can't hel|) feeling rather bitter on this sub- 
 ject.' 
 
 ' Hallo !' said Tom, ' where the deuce are 
 they going?' 
 
 ' Into the barracks, it would seem.' 
 
 ' The barracks!' said Tom; 'for what pur- 
 
 ')' 
 
 pose ? 
 
 ' To have some fruit and wine in the mess- 
 room,' said Reynolds, half turning in his 
 saddle, while Major Larkspur, who was now 
 riding by Milly's side, led the way through 
 the gate across the gravelled yard to the 
 mess-room, where sundry Hussars who were 
 loitering about were summoned to take charge 
 of the horses, while the whole party alighted
 
 122 BID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 and were ushered into the mess-room, a long 
 and cool, but plain and unornamented apart- 
 ment, with remarkably shiny tables and furni- 
 ture. 
 
 To be in such a place as a mess-room, a 
 land hitherto to them unknown, was to the 
 young ladies a source of great glee and excite- 
 ment, — even Mabel forgot that her mother 
 might remark they should not have been there 
 without some othei' chaperon than her cousin, 
 — so everything was the object of inspection 
 and many original remarks. Some Crimean 
 trophies on the wall, the race-cups won by the 
 regiment glittering on the side-board, and 
 portraits of some colonels of the regiment, in- 
 cluding Humphry Gore, in wig and breast- 
 plate, who served in the time of the Hanover- 
 ian succession, and H.R.H. George Augustus 
 Frederick, Prince of Wales, in after years; 
 Thackeray's man of well-oiled wigs and ample 
 waistcoats; the hero of the Pavilion close by 
 — the ' Fum the Fourth' of Byron. 
 
 The messman brought silver beakers full 
 of iced champagne-cup, which was poured into
 
 PKINCE OF WALES'S OWN HUSSARS. 123 
 
 crystal goblets ; fruit on salvers was produced 
 in plenty; but Larkspur recommended all to 
 take, in preference, dry cliquot and sliced 
 pineapple, saying, in sporting phrase, that 
 'they ran well together;' and, accustomed 
 though he was to barrack life, there was some- 
 thing in the bearing and manner of the 
 Hussar friends, a singular mixture of languor 
 and insouciance^ that made Stanley smile ; for, 
 as Con Cregan has it, it seemed as if ' youth 
 were the most embarrassing and wearying in- 
 fliction mortality was heir to.' 
 
 Mabel had the reputation of being heiress 
 to great wealth, yet Milly Allingham received 
 more attention than any of the party; and 
 the Master of Badenoch, eldest son of a Scotch 
 peer, as his title imports, ' a well-known con- 
 noisseur in female beauty and horseflesh,' as 
 Foxley whispered, seemed devoted to her; and 
 the fact of so many admiring Milly served 
 somehow to pique the pride of Stanley and to 
 enhance her value in his eyes. 
 
 But he felt his anger roused when again 
 the party mounted, and, quitting the barrack,
 
 124 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 took the way towards Preston, Milly and 
 Badenoch leading, when, dropping a little to 
 the rear, he found himself accosted, in that 
 free-and-easy manner which the freemasonry 
 of the service inspires, by Major Larkspur, 
 who began with considerable fluency — and, as 
 Stanley thought, flippancy — to talk of their 
 lady-friends. 
 
 The major was about thirty; he had seen 
 more of life than most men of his years ; his 
 brown hair already showed a white streak or 
 two ; his eyes had a clear and bold, yet dissi- 
 pated, expression when he looked at women ; 
 and his nose, though perfectly straight and 
 handsome, had, we grieve to say, a tint some- 
 what akin to the scarlet facings of the Hussars. 
 
 ^ Your flrst visit to this quarter, I suppose, 
 Stanley?' said he, adjusting in his eye a glass, 
 without which it seemed impossible for him to 
 speak. 
 
 ' To Thaneshurst, yes.' 
 
 'I meant that. As for Piccadilly- super- 
 Mare, every one comes there at some time. 
 Known the Brookes long ?'
 
 PRINCE OF WALES^S OWN HUSSARS. 125 
 
 ^ No, only for half a London season or so ; 
 and I am here for the first of the month 
 chiefly.' 
 
 ' Ah, I shall be with you then ; old Mr. 
 Brooke has put a couple of guns at the dis- 
 posal of Badenoch and myself. Yours are 
 stationed at — Oh, yes, I remember.' And 
 rapidly dismissing the subject, as if it did not 
 matter where such obscure fellows as mere 
 infantry were quartered: 'Fine-looking girl, 
 ]Vliss AUingham — might stuff a saddle with 
 her back hair, by Jove !' 
 
 Stanley rather coldly agreed that she was 
 so; but Craven, the third cavalry man, who 
 by the narrowness of the way had been com- 
 pelled to fall rearward and join them, was 
 warm in his laudation of Milly's beauty, her 
 grace in dancing and riding, and so forth, espe-^ 
 cially the faultless fitting of her riding-habit. 
 
 ' They say at the mess,' he lisped, while 
 stroking the place where he was glad to see a 
 moustache was coming, * that she has a pretty 
 pot of money, but she always affects that 
 Guards fellow, Reynolds.'
 
 126 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 'Did so, you mean, till Badenoch joined 
 to be in time for the regimental ball,' said the 
 major ; ' and since then I think Reynolds has 
 been nowhere. He is a great sportsman ; has 
 shot and fished all over Norway, from the 
 Cattegat to the land of the midnight sun ; and 
 is a fellow who is up to everything in sporting 
 life, from bringing down a couple of red deer 
 on his native hills, right and left — the shots 
 well put with his breechloader — to a rat hunt ; 
 and from knocking over his brace of rocketers 
 on a breezy day to a game of pool in the even- 
 ing. Moreover, as a regular drawing-room 
 pet, no one can have a chance with him, so 
 far as Miss Allingham is concerned. Then he 
 cares nothing about coin, you know.' 
 
 'But it is no use running after la belle 
 Millicent,' lisped Sub-lieutenant Craven, 'or 
 I might start for the filly stakes myself.' 
 
 ' Why ?' 
 
 ' She seems chiefly bent on having a string 
 of admirers.' 
 
 ' Well, but what pretty girl is not ? She 
 is a flirt, a coquette if you please ; but we
 
 PRINCE OF WALES's OWN HUSSARS. 127 
 
 make them so — they think it such pleasant 
 fun, playing at being in love.' 
 
 ' But she is deuced stand-ofF, I can tell 
 you,' persisted the sub-lieutenant. 
 
 * I don't think Yal lieynolds or Badenoch 
 of ours finds her so. By Jove,' sighed the 
 major, ' but for them I shouldn't care to try 
 and make my innings and bring her to book ; 
 for I may have to sell out, Craven, if the 
 oaks on the old place won't clear me.' 
 
 Craven only laughed, and whistled softly 
 ' Woodman, spare that tree.' ' Why not hook 
 the wealthy widow who lives westward of the 
 Steyne, major?' 
 
 'Thanks, no; "life," as some one says, "is 
 not a bed of roses, especially when you have 
 a woman to deal with who has seen more of 
 life in five years than you have in twenty." 
 The matrimonial couch would be too thickly 
 studded with thorns. But with Milly AUing- 
 ham now — ^ 
 
 But now Stanley, who had listened to this 
 with something of fierce impatience, seeing a 
 place vacant beside Miss Conyers, spurred his
 
 128 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 horse to the front and joined her. But she 
 found hhn somewhat of a moody companion 
 as she prattled away, and acting like a sweet 
 little cicerone, as she was, did all the honours 
 of the scenery as they rode by Preston, where 
 she showed him the large house once occupied 
 by Anne of Cleves, and the old church with- 
 its slender tower, by Blackington and Hangle- 
 ton, till they turned at Bramber-on-the-Adur, 
 near the old Norman castle, and rabbit-bur- 
 rows, where the hare had been lost. But 
 pretty Mabel, having then Tom Seymour 
 entirely to herself, had forgotten all about 
 that episode, which seemed so important yes- 
 terday ; and now, as they turned their horses' 
 heads homeward, Alfred Foxley began to 
 think that if he was to turn to account the 
 event of Seymour riding the vicious mare, he 
 had better utilise the first available occasion 
 for mischief. 
 
 What he meant to do beyond giving him 
 an aifronting and dangerous ^ spill' it is, per- 
 haps, impossible to speculate. During all this 
 morning ride, the open preference his beauti-
 
 PRINCE OF WALES's OWN HUSSARS. 129 
 
 ful cousin had so plainly shown for Seymour 
 filled the heart of Foxley with jealous rage, 
 and a rancour that made him peculiarly 
 oblivious of the eventualities of his scheme. 
 
 Who, then, that saw this fashionable, well- 
 appointed, and well-mounted party of friends 
 riding along the sunny English highway, full 
 of animation and high spirits, and attended by 
 grooms in broad belts, could have imagined 
 that among them there was one who treasured 
 in his heart the almost felon intentions of 
 Foxley ? 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW TOM ' CAME TO GRIEF.' 
 
 Already they were returning homeward to 
 Thaneshurst ; noon was nearly over, and 
 Stanley, beyond some remark on the beauty 
 of the day, had barely spoken a word to Milly 
 Allingham ; and she, piqued perhaps by this, 
 or careless about the matter, made no sign 
 that she wished him by her side, but seemed 
 bent on dazzling Reynolds and Badenoch (as 
 they called him, though his proper name was 
 Comyn), who rode by her rein ; and Rowland 
 could little suppose that half the animated 
 conversation they carried on across her dwelt 
 on sporting matters. 
 
 ' How long are she and I to be thus ?' 
 thought he. ^ Is each of us overacting a part 
 to the other ? Shall we ever be on any other 
 terms ?' 
 
 Amid a network of those cool, shady, and
 
 HOW TOM ' CAME TO GRIEF.' 131 
 
 green grassy lanes so peculiar to England, the 
 party, riding by twos and threes, got rather 
 broken up, and Stanley, after missing Miss 
 Allirigham and Reynolds for a few minutes, 
 saw them rejoining the road at a right angle 
 by a path between two fields. They were 
 coming on at a pace so rapid that they nearly 
 rode down a poor old canvas-frocked truffle- 
 hunter, who, accompanied by his dog and 
 armed with his spucl^ was hunting under the 
 hedgerows for that fungus which is in so much 
 request about the end of August and beginning 
 of September. 
 
 She was trying to rein-in her horse, laugh- 
 ing the while, and quite unlike her usually 
 proud self, at her inability to do so. At last, 
 with the assistance of Reynolds' strong and 
 skilful hand, she succeeded, and pushed back 
 her half - disordered hair, looking flushed, 
 breathless, and beautiful, as once again she 
 adjusted herself quietly in her saddle, with 
 her left knee pressed against the horn, the 
 right tightly round it, as her horse was dis- 
 posed to be restive still, and Reynolds' hand
 
 132 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 was still placed on her gathered reins, as if to 
 reassure her. 
 
 ' Thanks, very much,' said she, withdraw- 
 ing, and adding, with a shy glance at Stanley, 
 * we were so near losing you all at that 
 awkward turn of the road where the hare was 
 found.* 
 
 If aught could steel or rouse the heart of 
 Stanley against one he loved so well, it was 
 some of the features of that day's riding party. 
 He felt too surely that Milly was very much 
 reserved with him — much more so than she 
 was with others — Reynolds especially ; and it 
 was but too evident how friendly and intimate 
 they had become during the past weeks at 
 Thaneshurst ; and forgetting that people are 
 pretty sure to be so in the limited circle of a 
 country house, he could only mutter, ' Muff 
 that I was to come here !' and then remember 
 what he had once felt, the strange possibility 
 of lovinoj and hatino^ at the same time. 
 
 But an episode was at hand which diverted 
 the thoughts of all speedily from themselves. 
 
 Badenoch was now making himself agree-
 
 HOW TOM ^CAME TO GRIEF. 133 
 
 able to Mabel, so Seymour found himself 
 between Major Larkspur and Foxley. 
 
 ' I know a near cut right home, across the 
 fields, through the lawn of the vicarage, our 
 home farm, and into Thaneshurst clean,' said 
 the latter, on seeing that all the rest of the 
 party were well ahead along the road. ' The 
 way is all open — stubble or clover fields, with 
 only a few fences ; suppose we have a shy at 
 them. What do you say, Seymour?' 
 
 The latter hesitated ; so Foxley said, 
 
 'What say you, major?' 
 
 'I am ready; but how about the la- 
 dies ?' 
 
 ' The ladies can follow if so disposed ; they 
 are all well mounted, and know the country 
 well. Home ! Let us see who will be first 
 at the door of Thaneshurst!' cried Alf, brand- 
 ishing his whip. 
 
 ' It is rather a mad proceeding,' said the 
 major, in whom the genuine English racing 
 spirit was easily kindled ; but Seymour was 
 less easilv excited. 
 
 ' Come along, Seymour,' exclaimed Foxley;
 
 134 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ' it is all open, I tell you, except a fence or 
 two, and we'll take all the leaps together.' 
 
 ' And your cousin ?' urged Tom. 
 
 ' Never mind her ; she'll be well enough 
 looked after,' said Foxley, almost savagely ; 
 ' you are surely not afraid T 
 
 ' Afraid!' retorted Tom indignantly. ' How 
 dare you think so !' 
 
 But as the trio turned off into a grass field 
 at a rapid trot, Alf uttered something like a 
 malediction as his cousin Mabel joined them 
 at a canter. Her quick eye or her affectionate 
 heart had detected some secret mischief lurking 
 in her cousin's eye ; so she said in a low rapid 
 voice to Tom, 
 
 ' Mr. Seymour, you don't know Neck or 
 Nothing so well as we all do. Don't let Alf 
 lead you over the fences, but do you lead Mm, 
 lest he balk you. Don't rush at the fences 
 too fast ; keep her well in hand, with her hind 
 legs well together, and don't plump her w^hat- 
 ever you do.' 
 
 Some of this was rather obscure to Sey- 
 mour, but his heart beat lightly at the hurried
 
 HOW TOM ^CAME TO GRIEF.' 135 
 
 whisper which betokened an interest in his 
 safety. 
 
 ' Now, cousin Mabel,' said Foxley, ' you 
 were very foolish to join us.' 
 
 'Why?' asked the laughing girl, whose 
 spirits became exhilarated by the pace at 
 which they were going. 
 
 ' Because, when we reach the grass land 
 yonder, the pace will become a cracker,' re- 
 plied Foxley, who was fond of adopting the 
 slang of the harness-room and hunting-field.* 
 
 Mabel had no breath then wherewith to 
 reply ; their friends were all lost now, and 
 she thought of what mamma might say, and 
 that the whole episode was a little wild and 
 unusual in a quiet riding party ; and now, as 
 a high beech-hedge appeared before them, 
 they lessened the pace of their horses to 
 breathe them a little, and then all charged it 
 together. 
 
 Aware that his practice was but small, 
 and that he was splendidly mounted, Seymour 
 gave all his attention to this first leap. He 
 seated himself well in the saddle as he ap-
 
 136 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 proached the fence; there was no use for 
 s[)urs, and as Neck or Nothing sprang into air, 
 he loosened the bridle, using his right hand 
 as well as the left, giving the mare full and 
 free use of her head, leaning his body freely 
 back the moment the spring was made, yet 
 without losing the power of restraining her 
 when the leap was completed, and the beautiful 
 animal had cleared the high beech-hedge 
 without grazing a twig with her shiny hoofs, 
 and also a nasty sunk fence that lay beyond. 
 
 ^ Splendidly done !' exclaimed Mabel, with 
 flushed cheek and flashing eye, as her horse 
 alighted beside his at the same moment. Alf 's 
 nag, Scots Grey, was a second or so behind; 
 Major Larkspur a second longer, but he took 
 the ditch at a broader place, and had only 
 time to exclaim, 
 
 ' Hang it, Foxley, where are you taking 
 us? what are you up to? This is like a 
 steeplechase!' 
 
 He had lit on a rotten bank, come a tre- 
 mendous ' cropper,' and lay like a spread-eagle, 
 with his face and patrol jacket all over mud.
 
 HOW TOM ^CAME TO GRIEF.' 137 
 
 Seymour and Mabel were disposed to wait 
 till the major. gathered himself up, but not so 
 Foxley. 
 
 ' Come on, Seymour,' cried he ; ' don't be 
 a skycock; Larkspur's all right. Don't go at 
 a market pace — butter and eggs. We've a 
 rasper or two before us now !' 
 
 So Seymour galloped on ; and in her 
 anxiety, Mabel accompanied him, but some 
 distance behind now — a hundred yards or so — 
 leaving Larkspur of the Prince of Wales's 
 Hussars to his own devices. 
 
 ' Now for the trap, while she is behind !' 
 muttered Alf Foxley, gently holding-in his 
 gray, till Seymour was going with him neck 
 and neck, and not so able to lead as before, 
 and now another hedge higher even than the 
 last rose before them. 
 
 ' No craning here, Seymour,' cried Foxley, 
 'nor must you press the mare so hard as 
 before. There is no sunk fence here. But 
 take care, she looks as if she meant mischief.' 
 
 There was no sunk fence certainly, as the 
 speaker knew very well, but there was a deep
 
 138 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 old roadway at the bottom of a bank that 
 shelved abruptly down in the line Seymour 
 was pursuing. The leap was most perilous if 
 not completely cleared, as Foxley knew by old 
 experience he himself would do, so he closed 
 in nearer by his side, in his hate of his com- 
 panion half forgetful that his cousin might 
 follow; but she, aware of the danger, while 
 crying to them imploringly to pause, was 
 seeking at another point a gap in the hedge. 
 
 'Charge the rasper!' shouted Foxley, and, 
 as before, to the leap rose both animals gal- 
 lantly ; but now Foxley, still intent on his 
 wicked scheme, in the excitement of the mo- 
 ment, or with one of those sudden gleams of 
 thought which come so quickly for evil as well 
 as good, instead of dashing the goad with 
 which he had armed his whip into the flank 
 of the fiery mare, gave her — unseen some- 
 how by her rider — a dreadful lash right across 
 the eyes — a cut that blinded her for the mo- 
 ment, and made her utter a snort of rage and 
 pain. 
 
 Balked thus in her leap, she sank headlong
 
 HOW TOM ' CAME TO GRIEF.' 139 
 
 down in a heap on the hard road ; and when 
 Foxley, safe on the other bank, looked back, 
 he saw the mare staggering up, shaking her 
 ears and snorting, quivering in every limb, 
 'while blood and dust disfigured her knees; 
 and on the dusty road her rider, still grasping 
 his reins, was lying senseless, with blood 
 oozing from his mouth, and so motionless that 
 a sudden thrill of terror came over the heart 
 of Foxley. 
 
 Passing the hedge at the gap to which she 
 had ridden, Mabel rode hastily down the lane, 
 and, uttering a piteous cry on beholding this 
 catastrophe, leaped from her horse, and with 
 the reins thrown loosely over her left arm 
 knelt by the side of Seymour. 
 
 ' Alf— Alf ! Cousin Alfred— dear Alf !' she 
 cried, but in vain. 
 
 That worthy, affecting that he had lost all 
 control of his horse, which by dint of spur 
 and bit he was causing to bound and curvet 
 wildly, suddenly rushed the animal at a five- 
 foot wall, and lifted him over, hurling the 
 loosened stones behind in a heap as he van-
 
 140 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ished beyond it, leaving tlie poor girl to her 
 terror, her tears, and misery, with Seymour, 
 whom by the pallor of his face she supposed 
 to be killed. 
 
 As for Foxley, he was simply sufficiently 
 of a coward to wish to give his rival a dreadful 
 fall or smash; he was not brave enough to 
 murder him — that did not come within the 
 scope of his amiable intentions ; and so now, 
 with a heart full of excitement and terror, 
 which he strove to cover by a bearing of 
 mockery and contempt, he rode back towards 
 the party he had left, and speedily overtook 
 Reynolds and Craven with the Misses Conyers; 
 the rest were a few paces off, and all were 
 making merry at the appearance of Major 
 Larkspur, who had preceded him. 
 
 ' Hallo ! what is up. Fox ?' said Reynolds ; 
 ^you look put out.' 
 
 ' We have had another spill,' gasped Fox- 
 ley, while exclamations of alarm burst from 
 the ladies. 
 
 ' Heavens ! not the young lady — not Miss 
 Brooke.'
 
 HOW TOM ' CAME TO GRIEF.' 141 
 
 * No ; the duffer that rode into the harriers 
 at Pyecombe has come to grief again, and 
 he's broken the knees of the Irish mare. Got 
 spilt at the second fence — craning, or dragging 
 on his bridle, too probably.' 
 
 ' He should have been mounted on a screw ; 
 that Irish mare — * 
 
 ' We have no screws in the stables, Mr. 
 Craven,' said Foxley pettishly, to cover his 
 emotion of fright ; ' he rode, and always rides, 
 like what he is, a duffing city clerk wanting 
 to take his money's worth out of an unfortu- 
 nate nag hired for the day; and now,' he 
 added through his teeth, ' Mabel will be piling 
 up the agony over his broken bones, curse 
 him! A regular "Winkle,'' of course he 
 thought himself A 1 in the pigskin,' he re- 
 sumed aloud ; ' my cousin is with him, but he 
 must be carried home of course.' 
 
 ' Is he a good. style of fellow?' asked Lark- 
 spur, rubbing the mud off his jacket; while 
 Reynolds, Stanley, and others of the party 
 galloped up the narrow road. 
 
 ' Yes, in his own estimation.'
 
 142 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ^ Most of US are so,' said the Hussar officer 
 dryly ; ^ but as he seemed a good-natured 
 fellow, I do hope he is not severely hurt,' was 
 the kind addition of the major. 
 
 ^ Can't say ; perhaps he has broken " some 
 of his legs," as Salem Scudder says in the 
 play.' 
 
 The three Hussars eyed the speaker con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 ' We'll come over to Thaneshurst and leave 
 our cards to-morrow,' said the major, as they 
 shortened their reins to be off; for no matter 
 who had ' come to grief — even one of the ladies 
 — the Hussars were compelled to leave their 
 friends now and return to barracks, as Lark- 
 spur's watch informed them that the warning 
 trumpet for evening parade would sound in 
 twenty minutes, and it would take them every 
 second of the time to scamper back by the 
 Lewes road.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHAT MABEL'S ALARM ELICITED. 
 
 'Will Alf return? will no one ever come?' 
 moaned Mabel, to whom a few minutes seemed 
 as long as hours of agony. 
 
 Never before had grief or terror visited 
 Mabel Brooke ; and to see the handsome and 
 good-hearted young fellow whom she loved, 
 and who she knew right well loved her, lying 
 crushed, breathless, bleeding, and covered 
 with dust, was her first great shock, and it 
 stunned her. Their friends could not be far 
 off. Alf knew what had happened, so what 
 could be detaining him ? 
 
 She strove to shriek, to cry for aid ; but 
 her voice failed her. JSJor could she venture 
 to leave and look for it, till she had done 
 something in the way of attempting to revive 
 him.
 
 144 DID SHE LOVE HIM 
 
 With trembling hands she undid his neck- 
 tie and collar, raised his head on her arm, and 
 while her tears fell upon his face, she kissed 
 him tenderly on the forehead and eyes. She 
 called him imploringly by his name as all the 
 pent-up love of her heart went out to him in 
 that time of terror and agony; and as she 
 pressed one long, long kiss upon his cheek, 
 he respired heavily and opened his eyes. 
 
 Was he conscious of her caresses ? Yes, 
 but as one in a dream ; he smiled, though 
 there was somewhat of a bewildered stare in 
 his eyes, and he sought to draw her face, now 
 shrinking back, towards him ; but his right 
 arm hung powerless by his side. 
 
 'Thank Heaven, you are recovering!' she 
 exclaimed fervently, for a moment forgetting 
 what her alarm had elicited from her. 
 
 'Yet, Mabel' (he had never called her so 
 before), ' dear, dear Mabel, how sweet it would 
 be to — to die now !^ 
 
 'Why?' she asked, blushing in spite of 
 herself. 
 
 'With the knowledge that you love me,
 
 WHAT Mabel's alarm elicited. 145 
 
 that I have not loved you in vain, and that I 
 had not lost you.' 
 
 - 'Hush, they are coming now,' said she, 
 drying her tears in haste, as hoofs were heard 
 approaching rapidly; and just as Seymour 
 strove to stagger up, but did so in vain, being 
 too stunned and weak, Reynolds, Stanley, 
 Foxley, and the grooms came up, and simul- 
 taneously sprang from their horses ; while 
 Milly Allingham and the Conyers girls came 
 cantering up too ; and amid a chorus of ques- 
 tions, entreaties, and exclamations of wonder, 
 pity, and alarm, Seymour was raised from the 
 ground, but was unable to stand without 
 support. 
 
 'I thought that mare was too much for 
 him,' said Stanley, 'and I wish that I had 
 ridden her.' 
 
 'Why?' asked Foxley. 
 
 'Because this accident would not have 
 happened.' 
 
 'Wouldn't it?' asked the other bluntly. 
 
 ' Of a surety it would not.' 
 
 ' How ?' he asked, remounting his gray. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 DID SHE LOVE PIIM ? 
 
 ' Because I am a more experienced horse- 
 man than poor Tom.' 
 
 ^It was his own choice,' said Foxley 
 sulkily. 
 
 ' Pardon me, it was your planning, I 
 think.' 
 
 ^ It was not my planning, but Mabel's sug- 
 gestion,' said Foxley, crimsoning with anger. 
 
 'And your too ready adoption,' retorted 
 Stanley, whose secret dislike of Foxley was 
 intense; 'but it matters nothing now.' 
 
 Though scarcely thinking so, Stanley, who 
 had seen many a broken bone when on ser- 
 vice, assured Mabel that nothing was frac- 
 tured; yet Tom's right arm was powerless, 
 his head contused, his whole system violently 
 shaken, and there was reason to fear that he 
 might have suffered serious internal injury; 
 while the black mare, who was less the cause 
 of all this mischief than the treacherous cut 
 that Foxley had given her across the eyes, 
 was leisurely cropping the grass by the way- 
 side a few paces off, till one of the grooms 
 captured her From the headlong manner in
 
 WHAT Mabel's alarm elicited. 147 
 
 which she came down, Tom's hat, which was 
 battered out of all shape, had alone saved 
 him from, perhaps, concussion of the brain. 
 
 ' Mabel,' said Milly, ' how could you be 
 so rash as by your presence to encourage this 
 wild racing?' 
 
 ^ Encourage it !' exclaimed Mabel, tears 
 starting again to her eyes. 
 
 ' But of course you followed ^^our cousin?' 
 
 ' My cousin ?' said Mabel, with something 
 of scorn upon her quivering lip; for vaguely 
 and angrily she had some undefinable sus- 
 picion in her mind. 'I rode while I could by 
 Mr. Seymour's side, for I feared the mare 
 was beyond his skill as a horseman.' 
 
 With all his stifled hate Foxley, as he 
 surveyed the battered, dust-covered fisrure, 
 and pale blood-streaked visage of his rival, 
 was not without certain emotions of alarm. 
 Thus there occurred to him the reflection of 
 how he should have felt had Seymour been 
 killed outright. Would he — A.lf — have been 
 suspected? had any eye unseen beheld him 
 give the vicious mare the tremendous cut he
 
 148 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 did? But thouo:h emotions either of com- 
 punction or pity found no place in his heart, 
 he was rather glad that the general cata- 
 strophe was less serious than it promised to be. 
 ' He will be sent back to town ; and, anyhow, 
 we shall be rid of him at Thaneshurst,' was 
 his final idea. But Mr. Alfred Foxley was 
 mistaken in this, and could little conceive 
 hoAV all his schemes were conducing to the 
 very end he sought to mar. 
 
 A door was unhinged from the outhouse 
 of a neighbouring cottage, and with the aid 
 of the dismounted grooms, Stanley, and Fox- 
 ley too, Seymour was placed thereon and 
 borne shoulder-high through the chase to- 
 wards Thaneshurst House. 
 
 ^Keep step, keep step together, you fel- 
 lows,' said Stanley from time to time, with a 
 voice of authority and anxiety. ' I have seen 
 too many sick and wounded borne in dhooleys 
 and litters not to know that every jerk gives 
 pain.' 
 
 Luncheon was spread in the stately dining- 
 room at Thaneshurst; Pupkins and his staff
 
 WHAT Mabel's alarm elicited. 149 
 
 were in waiting to receive the cattle, and Mr. 
 Mulbery, who had been on the look-out for 
 the returning riding party, and whose chief 
 anxieties were the state of the thermometer in 
 his pantry, which suggested that the madeira 
 might be worthless, or that the '15 port was 
 not properly decanted, was now airing his 
 portly figure under the cool and breezy ^orte- 
 cochere. Mr. Brooke, sunk in his easy-chair, 
 was deep in the money article of the Tinies^ 
 and was considering the fluctuation of Egyptian 
 and Peruvian stocks, the flatness of Mexican, 
 and so forth ; while Mrs. Brooke, seating her- 
 self in a bay-window, alternately watched the 
 avenue, and dawdled over a piece of charity 
 work that, like the web of Penelope, never 
 progressed. Mr. Brooke was just in the act of 
 saying, ' Surely these young folks are very 
 late, Martha. I hate being kept from my 
 meals!' when an exclamation of alarm escaped 
 his usually placid better-half on beholding the 
 approaching procession ; and really, with the 
 ^YQ led horses and the litter borne shoulder- 
 high, it had a sufficiently appalling aspect.
 
 150 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' Oh, wliat can have happened !' she ex- 
 claimed, starting up with clasped hands. A 
 glance convinced her that Mabel was safe — 
 the o-irls were all in their saddles. An acci- 
 dent had happened to some one. Ah, if it 
 should be Captain Reynolds, a darling scheme 
 might be crushed for ever ; consequently she 
 was greatly relieved in her mind when Pup- 
 kins, with an expression of face as if he 
 thought it something of a joke, came hurrying 
 into the entrance-hall to announce that the 
 Irish mare had ' given Mr. Seymour a precious 
 spill in rushing at a rasper.' 
 
 It was only Mr. Seymour; yet the lady 
 could not but look concerned, while the emo- 
 tions of her husband were genuine and deep, 
 a8 Seymour was borne at once to his room, 
 and the two grooms were hastily despatched 
 for medical aid. 
 
 Stanley and Mr. Mulbery got the sufferer 
 undressed and into his bed, while Yal Rey- 
 nolds, caressing his tawny whiskers, and im- 
 bibing brandy-and-seltzer in the dining-room, 
 with Foxley doing ditto with Roderer's cham-
 
 WHAT Mabel's alarm elicited. 151 
 
 pagne well iced — he was horribly thirsty — 
 retailed all he knew of the catastrophe. 
 
 ' Some fatality attends that boy Avhenever 
 he comes here, Martha !' exclaimed Mr. 
 Brooke. 
 
 ' Then ask him no more/ she replied; Ho 
 preclude the risk is very simple.' 
 
 Mabel's heart swelled as she listened ; but 
 she turned affectionately to her father, who 
 said, 
 
 ' Poor Tom, poor Tom ! I have known 
 him, Captain Reynolds, ever since he was a 
 little boy about so high,' he added, holding a 
 fat pudgy hand about six inches from the 
 Turkey carpet. 'And so you are to blame 
 for this, Alf ?' 
 
 'I, sir?' 
 
 'Yes, you; by proposing this madcap race. 
 With ladies in your company, how could you 
 think of such a thing?' 
 
 ' Well, any way, we won't have him with 
 us on the 1st. If his shooting is no better 
 than his riding, it might prove more danger- 
 ous for others than himself.'
 
 152 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 'But here is Clavicle, the doctor, at last,' 
 said Mr. Brooke, who bustled out to meet that 
 personage as his brougham was announced at 
 the door.
 
 { 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE PATIENT. 
 
 After due time the doctor, a pleasant little 
 man with an ample beard, a merry roving 
 eye, and a sunny, suave, and cultivated pro- 
 fessional manner, joined Mr. Brooke in the 
 library, where he anxiously awaited him. 
 
 'Will the lad pull through, doctor?' he 
 asked impetuously. 
 
 ' Well — ah, my dear sir,' began the doctor, 
 playing with his beard. 
 
 'Don't hesitate to tell me the worst. I 
 would rather lose a thousand — ten thousand 
 pounds — than have had Tom's son lying in 
 this way here.' 
 
 ' Where could he be better cared for, my 
 
 dear sir?' 
 
 ' Any bones broken ?' 
 ' None.'
 
 ] 54 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' Thank God !' 
 
 ^ But there is a severe case of dislocation, 
 and then that knock on the head is an un- 
 pleasant feature. But there is every hope; 
 he is young and healthy, yet must be kept 
 very quiet — no excitement or anything of that 
 sort, my dear sir. He has, though blood has 
 been lost, feverish symptoms, so ice must be 
 used freely. He is quiet now and likely to 
 sleep, and he must remain here for the pre- 
 sent.' 
 
 ' Of course, doctor, of course.' 
 
 ' It might be death to move him, my dear 
 sir.' 
 
 ' Of course ; we shall take every care. 
 Oh, doctor, I love that lad as if he was my 
 own son !' exclaimed Mr. Brooke, while Alfred 
 Eoxley, who had just entered, ground his 
 teeth as he heard him. 
 
 Then the doctor departed, announcing that 
 he would call again on the morrow; but in a 
 turn of the avenue his brougham was stopped 
 by Mabel, who was still in her riding-habit, 
 with the skirt thrown over her left arm, and
 
 THE PATIENT. 155 
 
 who thouo;ht he had been an aoe in Tom's 
 room and with her papa. 
 
 ' Dr. Clavicle,' said she, pausing and shiver- 
 ing, for all this excitement and suffering were 
 so new to her after her butterfly existence, 
 this deep care for and love of any one beyond 
 her parents, — ' doctor, please — ' 
 
 ' Well, Miss Brooke,' said he, smiling, and 
 retaining in his the little hand she had placed 
 on the open window of his brougham. 
 
 'Do you think he — he will die?' she asked 
 with blanched and quivering lips. 
 
 ' Die ! Not at all.' 
 
 ' Thank Heaven !' 
 
 The doctor smiled a professional smile ; he 
 had them for all kinds of occasions. 
 
 ' You know this is a dreadful thing to 
 happen to a guest here,' she added, as if to 
 explain the cause of her too apparent interest. 
 
 * Perfectly, my dear Miss Brooke; all the 
 more dreadful that the patient is young and 
 handsome,' he added, with a knowing look; 
 ' but don't alarm yourself.' 
 
 ' His poor right arm — '
 
 156 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ' It is onlv a dislocation of the humerus or 
 the upper bone, which, from its articulation 
 as well as from its exposure to external in- 
 juries, is the most subject to dislocation of 
 any in the human subject. His fall w^as a 
 severe one, and I detected dislocation of the 
 humerus instantly by the depression or cavity 
 on the top of the shoulder, and the inability 
 to move his arm. But I have now put the 
 head of the bone in its proper place, and, my 
 dear Miss Brooke, there is no cause for fear 
 unless there is some internal injury.' 
 
 All this sounded dreadful and mysterious 
 to Mabel, especially that Tom should be 
 spoken of as ' a human subject ;' so she said 
 hesitatingly, 
 
 ' I would that I were allowed to nurse 
 him.' 
 
 ' I fear that in that case he might be in no 
 haste to get well,' said the doctor gallantly. 
 ^But good-morning, my dear Miss Brooke — 
 good-morning.' 
 
 And as his brougham rattled down the 
 avenue, he thought no more of Tom than of
 
 THE PATIENT. 157 
 
 the last year's leaves, and betook him to 
 Punch or the Lancet^ while Mabel repeated to 
 herself his last fatal surmise about the 'in- 
 ternal injury.' It came to her ear like a 
 knell. 
 
 Mrs. Brooke was not an unkind or in- 
 hospitable person in the main; but it did 
 worry her to find 'that Mr; Seymour' an 
 invalid in her house, an object of solicitude 
 apparently to all, established as it seemed en 
 
 * 
 
 permanence ; and to meet from time to time 
 servants going up-stairs with trays of beef- tea 
 and dry toast, arrowroot and sherry. Dig- 
 weed's best grapes, and Mulbery with iced 
 champagne; and more than all was she irri- 
 tated by finding Mabel hovering, as if for the 
 latest intelligence, near the room of one who, 
 but for her 'John's arrant folly,' should never 
 have been at Thaneshurst at all. 
 
 The first day of the accident passed slowly 
 and heavily on. While poor Mabel, with her 
 heart like to burst, sat in the drawing-room 
 with a 'company smile' on her sweet face, 
 endeavouring to look unconcerned, and fear-
 
 158 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 ing that she had ah^eacly revealed too much ; 
 while Mrs. Brooke fretted with the servants 
 and fumed with every one, and her spouse 
 pottered to and fro in great anxiety; and 
 while Foxley knocked the balls about in the 
 billiard-room with Yal Reynolds or scanned 
 BelVs Life in the harness-room, and seemed 
 quite at his ease, — unfortunate Tom Seymour, 
 little knowing the jealous treachery of which 
 he was the victim, tossed wearily and fever- 
 ishly on his bed, only conscious at times when 
 he asked for a medicated drink, which Row- 
 land Stanley, who, when on service, had seen 
 much of sickness and suffering, was ever at 
 hand to give him. 
 
 So the dull evening crept on, varied only 
 by frequent messages to the patient's room; 
 while inquiries, suggestions, and speculations 
 concerning the accident, and anecdotes of 
 similar cases, made up the staple of the con- 
 versation carried on at intervals in the draw- 
 ing-room ; and good Mr. Brooke, who worried 
 his worthy and fashionable better-half by so 
 often insisting on being helped twice to turtle-
 
 THE PATIENT. 159 
 
 soup at dinner, and assisted as often to iced 
 rum-punch, partook of neither that day. He 
 was 'too cut up,' he said, 'about old Tom 
 Seymour's boy.' 
 
 'I do wish that I had been in the saddle 
 of that mare,' said Stanley, ' instead of poor 
 Tom.' 
 
 'Bat you might have been now in Mr. 
 Seymour's place,' said Miss Allingham gently. 
 
 ' Scarcely ; yet all the better were it so.' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Because,' said he in a low voice, ' save 
 with the regim.ent, I have no one to regret 
 any suffering or peril to which I may be sub- 
 jected ; but he has.' 
 
 Stanley was looking at Mabel, and thus 
 he failed to see that which would have made 
 his heart thrill — a pleading and upbraiding 
 glance in the soft dark eyes of Milly, while 
 those of Mabel looked at him almost with 
 affection, she was so full of gratitude to him 
 as the friend of Seymour ; and it was on him 
 she chiefly relied for exact reports of her 
 lover's progress towards recovery.
 
 160 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 She often found the eye of her mother 
 regarding her watchfully, if not suspiciously; 
 and when alone with her, she was always told 
 by the old lady how irritating it was to think 
 that b'ecause of this accident, the result, no 
 doubt, of his own want of horsemanship, Sey- 
 mour was more than ever linked somehow 
 with Thaneshurst and the Brooke family. 
 And once the poor girl's blood ran cold when 
 she heard her mother say angrily, 
 
 'I wish the mishap had taken place at 
 Brighton rather than here.' 
 
 'Why, mamma ?^ 
 
 ' Because then he might have been taken 
 to some hotel, or the hospital perhaps,' 
 
 ' Martha dear, please don't talk so,' urged 
 Mr. Brooke ; ' he'll get well all the sooner in 
 the hands of friends.' 
 
 And while her mother said these and 
 many other hard things, Mabel had but one 
 thought in her heart. 
 
 'If he should die after all. Oh, if my 
 Tom, my darling, should die, and he loves 
 me so !'
 
 THE PATIENT. 161 
 
 Yet with all lier regard for Seymour, with 
 all the love she knew so well he had long 
 borne her, she could not but feel her cheek 
 oTow hot when she thoug-ht over that scene 
 in the lane, and of all she had said and done 
 under the impulse of terror and affection. 
 She had taken the initiative; the first de- 
 claration of love had come from her ; yet she 
 could not blame herself, and knew right well 
 that Tom would not hlajne her either. 
 
 Two days elapsed before Alfred Foxley 
 could bring himself to visit the bedside of his 
 victim, and then only because his studied 
 absence therefrom might excite remark. He 
 accompanied Stanley, and did his best to 
 appear perfectly at ease, for the eye of the 
 captain regarded him steadily. 
 
 ' Well, Seymour, old fellow, how are you?' 
 he asked, shaking the left hand of the patient, 
 whose right arm was still powerless and the 
 source of exquisite pain. ' I have brought 
 you a box of fresh cigars, if the doctor and 
 mamma Brooke have no objection to you 
 smoking them here.' 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 * Thanks ; you are very kind/ 
 
 ' You did not give the mare her head 
 enough that time; you'll do better next, and 
 not come such a cropper again/ added the 
 hypocrite, as he pressed the cold moist hand 
 of the sufferer with apparent cordiality. ' I 
 warned you that Neck or Nothing meant some 
 mischief.' 
 
 ^ But too late,' said Seymour ; ' poor 
 Mabel—' 
 
 ' Mabel ?' repeated Foxley, biting his 
 nether lip under his red moustache. 
 
 ' I mean Miss Brooke ; what a fright she 
 must have got !' 
 
 ' Not at all,' replied the other bluntly ; 
 ' she has seen more than one spill in the hunt- 
 ing-field; and the affair was like being out 
 with the hounds, without being hampered 
 with mamma at the Meet.' 
 
 Foxley's tone seemed to hint so much as 
 to say, ' Don't flatter yourself, my fine fellow, 
 that you are too much an object of inter- 
 est.' 
 
 ' I think you must have been a sheet or
 
 THE PATIENT. 163 
 
 two in the wind the other day,' said Foxley, 
 with one of his unpleasant laughs. 
 
 ' How can you think so ?' asked Seymour. 
 
 ^ Remember the champagne-cup of those 
 Hussar fellows ; and perhaps it helps still to 
 make you look so fishy and seedy. Flowers, 
 eh?' he added, as his eye fell on a beautiful 
 bouquet in a fine Chelsea vase by the bedside, 
 the blue ground of which was painted with 
 pastoral subjects. 
 
 ' Miss Brooke is so kind as to send me 
 fresh flowers every day.' 
 
 ' Oh, ah, Mabel sent them — kind little 
 thing, Mab ! But you must have toppled ofi* 
 too much of that beastly stuff at the bar- 
 racks.' 
 
 'Excuse me, Mr. Foxley,' said Stanley, 
 with a stiffness of manner and something of 
 sternness in his tone as he resented this coarse- 
 ness of phraseology and the imputation, ^your 
 words are unjust to my friend, and rather 
 rude as referring to the Hussar mess. And 
 now I think we will withdraw, as conversa- 
 tion is apt to make him feverish.'
 
 164 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 The truth was that Seymour knew pre- 
 cisely the amount of liking Foxley had for 
 him ; and though he came now in the guise 
 of a friend, his presence, his manner, and 
 what he had said, brought a flush of uncon- 
 cealed anger into the face of the listener; 
 and, turning away, he waved his hand to 
 Stanley, and said, 
 
 ' I would rather be left alone.' 
 
 And when alone, if he was not without 
 some anxiety as to the future, he was full of 
 happy thought. From the first moment when 
 he became perfectly conscious and realised all 
 that had passed, he felt only delight amid his 
 bodily sufferings — delight as he recalled, like 
 a delicious dream, the tearful and lovelit eyes 
 that were gazing into his ; the caresses, the 
 kisses, the passionate utterances that brought 
 him back to life. He was not so much stunned 
 that he could not recollect all, and act the 
 whole episode over again and again in me- 
 mory. 
 
 And so would he fondly muse as the even- 
 ing stole on, and the perfume of the flowers
 
 THE PATIENT. 165 
 
 her dear hands had gathered was wafted to- 
 wards him, while twihght faded on the green 
 swelHng downs and on the distant tumbling 
 sea, and the chimes were ringing so sweetly 
 in the old square tower of the ivy -mantled 
 village church. How delicious was the com- 
 plete consciousness that she loved him, even 
 though she never might be his ! And he 
 thought of a song she had sung to him, 
 
 * Those evening bells, those evening bells, 
 How many a tale their music tells !' 
 
 and so forth. 
 
 How, when, or where ivould the last link 
 of that love idyl in the lane be taken up 
 again? Each evening, more than any other 
 time of the twentv-four hours, was full of 
 such thoughts, — ' evening, when,^ as Drake 
 says in his Evenings in Autumn^ ' the busy 
 scenes of our existence are withdrawn, when 
 the sun descending leaves the world to si- 
 lence and to the soothing influence of twilight, 
 has ever been a favourite portion of the day 
 with the wise and good; when there appears 
 to be shed over the universal face of nature a
 
 166 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 calmness and tranquillity, a peace and sanctity 
 as it were, which almost insensibly steals into 
 the breast of man, and disposes him to soli- 
 tude and meditation. He naturally compares 
 the decline of light and animation with that 
 which attaches to humanity ; and the evening 
 of the day and the evening of life become 
 closely assimilated in his mind.' 
 
 But Tom's reveries took, perhaps, more 
 poetical turns than those referred to. 
 
 The wild whirl and turmoil of London 
 life seemed far, far away from Thaneshurst. 
 Through his open window stole the songs of 
 birds, the rustle of leaves, the perfume of 
 flowers, the chimes of bells in the village 
 spire, the hum of bees, the voices of children 
 playing in the shady green lanes — all the sub- 
 dued sounds of life in the country. 
 
 If quietude and repose would restore him 
 — if, when the time for it came to pass, the 
 musing of dear Mabel Brooke could do so — 
 Tom Seymour was soon in a fair way of being 
 back at his desk in the City. 
 
 As time stole on and his absence became
 
 THE PATIENT. 167 
 
 protracted, his great fear was tliat he mio-ht 
 forfeit his situation. What if he were maimed 
 for life ! He had served long enough, young 
 though he was, to obtain even a pension from 
 the niggard Whigs; but on such he might 
 starve after all. And these were cloudy 
 thoughts to foster side by side with those of 
 love and Mabel. And then there was her 
 mother. 
 
 * I know the old lady despises me,' said 
 Tom one day to Stanley. ' I fear she wDn't 
 even confess that I have a share in ^' the great 
 firm which, under the name of Adam & Co., 
 has toiled so long and industriously." ' 
 
 So the time stole on. The newspaper 
 paragraphs concerning ^ the late serious acci- 
 dent at Thaneshurst,' the cards left again and 
 again by Messrs. Comyn, Larkspur, and Craven 
 of the Hussars, and by friends and neighbours 
 of the Brookes, were all unknown to Tom; 
 while he progressed towards convalescence. 
 
 Prior to this, Stanley's bugbear — for such 
 he rather was — had left Thaneshurst to visit 
 elsewhere.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PIQUE. 
 
 ^ Good-bye, Captain Reynolds,' said Milly as 
 he bade her farewell at the conservatory 
 door, when Mr. Mulbery announced the mail- 
 phaeton awaited him. 
 
 ' Adieu, Miss Allingham ; and be assured 
 that in the steeplechase I shall carry your 
 colours to the fore.' 
 
 ' And do let it be your last race, Captain 
 Reynolds,' she urged. 
 
 ' Why ?' asked the captain, caressing his 
 flyaway whiskers with a smile of surprise. 
 
 ' Because such things are so dangerous.' 
 
 He laughed, bowed himself out, and was 
 gone, as he was engaged to shoot elsewhere 
 on the 1st of September. The closest obser- 
 vation failed to enlighten S'^anley, who saw 
 them separate then, how the Guardsman stood 
 with Milly Allingham, as he had been equally 
 attentive to Mabel, to Fanny Conyers, and
 
 PIQUE. 169 
 
 her sister, both of whom were very attractive 
 girls. But neither could Stanley ascertain 
 how he personally stood with her; she was 
 ever so provokingly serene and self-possessed. 
 One fact became impressed upon him with 
 unpleasant suspicion : that she never gave 
 him, while Reynolds was at Thaneshurst, an 
 opportunity — or perhaps chance failed to 
 afford it — of being alone with her for a mo- 
 ment; so there could be no resumption of the 
 subject of that tete-a-ttte which had been so 
 untowardly interrupted in town. 
 
 Stanley, however, felt almost assured that 
 there could be nothing in petto between her 
 and Yal Reynolds, their parting seemed so 
 simply like that of every- day friends in the 
 world. I say almost assured; for, notwith- 
 standing this apparent ease of manner, they 
 might have their own great secret for all 
 that he knew ; Reynolds might already have 
 made a declaration, have proposed and been 
 accepted. His good looks were undeniable, 
 and his expectations were — as Mrs. Brooke 
 so often said to Mabel — so great.
 
 170 DID SHE LOVE HIM r 
 
 Well, he was gone now ; but was to return 
 in time for a ball, to be given by the Hussars 
 before their departure from Brighton; and 
 thus, during his temporary absence, Stanley 
 certainly had the field all to himself; but 
 with all his love for Milly, he shrank from 
 again subjecting himself to such a humiliation 
 as he had encountered in London. 
 
 But Milly deceived others, as she in some 
 way deceived herself; for under a stratum of 
 pride lay her real nature, all cheerfulness, 
 warmth, and kindness. She was intelligent 
 too, and a well-read girl. She had a pro- 
 found love of books, and her taste for ancient 
 lore was not the least remarkable feature in 
 her character. Thus she was wont to amuse 
 the young officer with odd scraps of quaint 
 information about Lewes and Brighton, 
 Thaneshurst and other places; and he found 
 himself letting his cigar get cold between his 
 fingers, whilst he gazed into her soft dark 
 eyes and animated face, and heard her telling 
 of the Earls of Warren and the Priors of 
 Lewes, of the Devil's Dyke and the Poynings,
 
 PIQUE. 171 
 
 who were lords of Poynings, with their famous 
 ruby ring of inheritance ; and so forth. Yet 
 it suited her at times, when she felt piqued 
 with her lover, to adopt a very different tone 
 and manner ; and of this he was unpleasantly 
 conscious soon after the departure of Key- 
 nolds. 
 
 He had left Seymour's room, and to avoid 
 Foxley, whose society he at no time desired, 
 had strolled into the garden, and resting him- 
 self in the arbour, lit a cigar, and with its 
 soothing aid, while half sunk in reverie, began 
 to think over the whole situation and his 
 chance of success with Milly, which, if ever 
 again put to the issue, would require to be 
 so ere long, as his leave of absence was fast 
 coming to a close. 
 
 He suddenly became aware that Milly and 
 Mabel, with Fanny Conyers, were in his 
 vicinity. The girls, with their arms entwined 
 in that loving way peculiar to many young 
 ladies when no rivalry is at work, were pro- 
 menading to and fro on the grass of the 
 croquet ground, between which and the
 
 172 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 arbour already mentioned there was a closely- 
 clipped yew hedge, a relic of the older man- 
 sion of Thaneshurst. They were talking with 
 gay anticipation of an archery meeting that 
 was to take place somewhere, of Lincoln-green 
 jackets and Robin Hood hats with hersagliere 
 plumes, of the Hussar band, diamond prizes 
 from Hunt and Eoskell's, the luncheon from 
 Fortnum and Mason's, and flirtation ad 
 libitum. 
 
 ' These are all very well,' said Milly after 
 a pause ; ' but really I do not care to make the 
 tips of my ^' fairy fingers" sore and my elbows 
 weary by twanging a bow, when my arrows 
 always go wide of the mark or vanish amid 
 the gorse, and so forth. Tame as it is, I pre" 
 fer croquet; it shows one's skill in another 
 way.' 
 
 ^ And one's insteps too, and the prettiness 
 of our high - heeled boots,' added Fanny 
 Conyers. 
 
 ' Talking of croquet, we must have a re- 
 gular match,' said Milly AUingham. ^I wish, 
 Mabel, your mamma would ask the new
 
 PIQUE. 173 
 
 curate here, now that Val Reynolds has gone 
 and the Hussars are so soon to move too.' 
 
 If aught in this speech could add to Stan- 
 ley's pique, apart from calling Reynolds by 
 his Christian name (which was so unlike her 
 usual etiquette), it was the memory of a cer- 
 tain passage in Mabel's letter concerning the 
 curate's admiration for her friend. 
 
 ^ Though only the curate, he is a man of 
 very high family,' said Mabel, as her mamma's 
 aristocratic proclivities occurred to her. 
 
 ' There is to be service in the church this 
 evening. Do let us drive over,' said Milly. 
 
 ' But we seldom go to church in the even- 
 ing,' urged Mabel. 
 
 ' Well, dear, let us have the curate here,' 
 said Milly, laughing. ' I must have an attache 
 of some kind, and now that Captain Reynolds 
 has gone I shall certainly flirt with the curate.* 
 
 'Reynolds gone, the Hussars going; so 
 now she must amuse herself with the curate. 
 / count for nothing,' thought Stanley, with 
 growing anger. ' She is a heartless coquette, 
 and can neither care for me nor any man.'
 
 1 74 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 He tossed aside his cigar, and, thinking 
 he had overheard quite enough, walked softly 
 away, little supposing that Milly was doing 
 injustice to herself, and that all this was mere 
 rantipole, if one may use such a phrase with 
 reference to a girl like her ; but ere many 
 hours elapsed he found means to pique her 
 most effectually in return. 
 
 It chanced that on this very evening tea 
 had barely been brought into the drawing- 
 rodm when the Reverend Alban Butterley 
 was announced, and was welcomed with much 
 empressement by all, and by Milly with more 
 than she would have displayed if she had 
 possessed the least idea that Stanley had over- 
 heard her. 
 
 After some inquiries regarding the pro- 
 gress of Tom Seymour towards recovery, th-e 
 reverend gentleman seated himself beside Mrs. 
 Brooke, and proceeded first to make himself 
 especially agreeable to her. Stanley could 
 see that he was a man not without several 
 personal attractions, apart from his known 
 eloquence, learning, and undoubtedly good
 
 PIQUE. 175 
 
 position. He was tall and well made, pos- 
 sessed a good figure and air of high breeding ; 
 but his eye was a roving and shifty one, that 
 seldom looked at any one long. He was 
 scrupulously well dressed, his white cravat — 
 cut as like a Roman collar as might be — was 
 tied to perfection, and he wore a long black 
 frock-coat, serge waistcoat, and faultlessly- 
 made patent boots. His hair was parted in 
 the centre, he was closely shaven, and was the 
 model of a drawing-room apostle; yet h^ 
 presence failed to excite the least alarm or 
 jealousy in the breast of Stanley, to whom he 
 addressed most of his inquiries concerning the 
 health of Tom Seymour. 
 
 ^I can assure you, Mr. Butterley,' said 
 Mrs. Brooke, ^ that Captain Stanley seems to 
 make a most excellent nurse, from all I can 
 hear.' 
 
 'He has quite mistaken his profession, I 
 think,' added Mabel, with her eyes expressing 
 intelligence and gratitude. 
 
 ' Nursing seems rather an unusual occu- 
 pation for a young officer,' said Mr. Butterley,
 
 176 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 playing with his cup and spoon, and simper- 
 ing like a genteel apostle. 
 
 *0h, not at allj' urged Stanley. ^When 
 on service up country, I have often had to 
 doctor, and nurse too, the sick — soldiers, their 
 wives, and children — when in places where 
 there were neither hosjDitals nor medical aid. 
 When men died in their tents of cholera, sun- 
 stroke, or jungle fever ; and when they were 
 buried, perhaps with only a blanket round 
 them, in a trench close by, it fell to me to 
 read the Burial Service over them.' 
 
 ' You must have seen much of suffering 
 and death in that part of the world,' said the 
 Reverend Alban sententiously ; ' but man is 
 born to sorrow, even as the sparks fly upward. 
 Another cup ; thanks. Miss Brooke.' 
 
 'Yes, Mr. Butterley,' said Mr. Brooke; 
 ' and I can assure you that this spill of my 
 young friend Seymour has proved a deuced 
 annoyance to an old fellow such as I, who now 
 prefers port to burgundy after dinner, and a 
 nap over the money article in my easy-chair/ 
 
 ' Just this month, about this very day two
 
 PIQUE. 177 
 
 years ago, a young brother officer died, I may 
 almost say in my arms, under very gloomy 
 circumstances,' said Stanley thoughtfully. 
 
 ^ And where was this?' asked Milly. 
 
 *In a land far, far away — a land almost 
 unknown even by some in this country.' 
 
 As the preamble somewhat interested the 
 ladies, Stanley was pressed to tell the story 
 of his friend, and he frankly began at once, in 
 the following words. 
 
 But Eowland Stanley was a fair specimen 
 of a thorough-going, modest, and unpretend- 
 ing young English officer; thus he told his 
 little narrative, all unconscious of the interest 
 that having faced many perils in distant scenes 
 gave him in the estimation of his fair audience. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FROM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 
 
 ^I HAVE but a simple story to tell you,' he 
 began, ' with something of adventure but 
 nothing of romance in it, though many thou- 
 sands of miles distant, even as the crow flies, 
 from the land of the South Downs and the 
 region of Brighton. When our regiment was 
 detailed as a portion of the field force under 
 General Dunsford for service against the mau- 
 rauding hill-tribes in Bhotan, we were placed 
 in the column of Brigadier Mulcaster, and 
 began our march in October, with orders to 
 scour all that north-eastern quarter of India 
 which extends from the southern declivities 
 of the Himalaya range to the level ground 
 which constitutes the northern boundary of 
 the great valley of Assam, and to erect at 
 certain places hill-forts or posts for the re- 
 pression of the fierce Bhoteas, who had been 
 making armed raids along our frontier and
 
 FROM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 179 
 
 carrying off people and cattle, as the Moss- 
 troopers were wont to do on our Borders 
 long ago. 
 
 ^It was likely to prove a perilous and 
 arduous duty, but the scene of operations 
 was new to us \ we were all young, ardent, 
 and eager for adventure; and so we marched 
 into the mighty recesses of those vast moun- 
 tain-ranges with hearty good-will. 
 
 ^ I had in my company an ensign, a fine 
 and handsome young lad, little more than a 
 boy in fact, who was a great favourite with 
 all, he was so sweetly-tempered and amiable, 
 and yet withal so ardent and hazardous. 
 "Little Wickets" we called him when he 
 joined us fresh from Rugby, for he proved 
 himself a prime bat and bowler, and speedily 
 became captain of the regimental Eleven; and 
 from the mess -table the sobriquet became 
 known among the rank and file, who always 
 spoke of him among themselves as "Little 
 Mr. Wickets." 
 
 ' The lad had one strong and firm feature 
 in his character — an intense love for his
 
 180 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 mother, and this pure sentiment kept him 
 out of all the scrapes and follies in which 
 our other youngsters were so prone to fall. 
 Thus, though some of the subalterns were 
 inclined to chaff Wickets for this, the senti- 
 ment — of which he never made any conceal- 
 ment — was ever commended by our seniors. 
 When urged to bet, to gamble, to linger over 
 his wine, or so forth, he invariably declined. 
 
 ' " Wickets, what a muff you are !" some 
 one would say. "Why?" 
 
 ' '' It would grieve my mother to think I 
 did such things ; moreover, I promised to her 
 that I never would," he would reply simply, 
 and it seemed to me sweetly, heedless of the 
 laughter he sometimes elicited; and when the 
 lad spoke of his mother, who was far, far 
 away in pleasant and peaceful Kent, as he 
 often did to me when I became his chief 
 chum and confidant, a chord came into his 
 voice and his eyes lit lup as if he was speak- 
 ing of some young girl's love; but that is a 
 feeble tie when compared with the love of a 
 mother.
 
 FROM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 181 
 
 ' After much toil, marching through jungles 
 where only three miles^ progress might be 
 made in a day, and where strong doses of qui- 
 nine alone counteracted the effects of the 
 malaria ; or through primeval woods, the abode 
 of the ounce, the barking deer, the horned yak, 
 the tiger, and the leopard, and where the trees 
 had stems like the Duke of York's Column in 
 diameter, and as lofty ; through vast and long 
 vistas of foliage where sunshine never pene- 
 trated, and where their depth and growth 
 seemed to speak of centuries ; where the wild 
 rhododendrons seemed as rosy weeds ; and 
 after much severe fighting at times, especially 
 at Julpigori, Ambiok, and in the Chamoorchee 
 Pass, we found ourselves advancing to a place 
 called Bishensing, where the feathery jungle 
 grass grew so high that it quite concealed 
 even the largest of our baggage elephants; 
 everywhere erecting posts, leaving detach- 
 ments, and making arrangements for the civil 
 government of the newly-annexed territory 
 by dividing it into districts under deputy com- 
 missioners, greatly to the disgust of the Bhoteas.
 
 182 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' Though the latter seemed to be effectu ally- 
 quelled and quieted now, they were neverthe- 
 less making secret preparations for a combined 
 attack upon the whole line of hill-posts we 
 had established throughout their country. 
 
 ' My company formed a portion of the 
 little garrison at a post called Dewangiri, 
 under Colonel Campbell, who had also with 
 him six companies of the Assam Light In- 
 fantry, a company of Roorkie Sappers, some 
 artillery and Bengal police ; and it was while 
 stationed there that some singular circum- 
 stances occurred. 
 
 * On the 1st of December we took up our 
 quarters there, in a room of a stone-house that 
 whilom had been the abode of a Lama priest, 
 whom we ejected without much ceremony, 
 and he departed, muttering vengeance, but 
 chiefly against Wickets, whom he detected 
 making a caricature of him with a burned 
 stick on the whitewashed wall, portraying him 
 with his long garments, goat-like beard, and 
 high head-dress. 
 
 ' That night I was captain of the main-
 
 FKOM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 18^i 
 
 guard, so Wickets had the room to himself, 
 and, weary with our long march across the 
 Berhampooter river, retired early to his camp 
 charpoy or bed, and was soon — as he told me 
 afterwards — sound asleep. 
 
 ' As the enemy were suspected of being in 
 our vicinity, the inlying piquet, after parading 
 at sunset, slept in their clothing and accoutre- 
 ments, and I had to visit my sentinels almost 
 hourly to see that they were on the alert. 
 About midnight, lingeringly, with a cigar in 
 my mouth, I was returning from this duty, 
 and I remember being on this occasion rather 
 disposed to pause and survey the mountain 
 scenery of the Himalayas, so varied and mag- 
 nificent, with sharp and pointed peaks that 
 soar sublimely from their vast and lofty bases. 
 
 ^ By day the size of these stupendous 
 mountains, their apparently endless extent, 
 the clearness of their most distant outlines 
 against the pale-blue sky, make a scene of wild 
 and wonderful beauty; but at midnight, as I 
 saw them then, when myriads of diamond-like 
 stars were twinkling in a sky whose blue
 
 184 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 depths were almost black, the pale snowy 
 cones had an aspect of sublimity without 
 parallel, and still grander becomes the effect 
 when the first light of dawn tips these sum- 
 mits with fire, while darkness yet reigns in 
 the distant plains and valleys of Assam. 
 
 'As I turned away, the ghurrie, or little 
 gong at the main-guard, proclaimed midnight, 
 and the last stroke had scarcely died away 
 when I heard a succession of pistol-shots, a 
 shout of pain; and two men, who dropped 
 from the window of my quarters in the house 
 of the Lama priest, fled past me like hares, 
 and vanished in the distance. 
 
 'Accompanied by some of the guard, I 
 drew my sword and proceeded with lights to 
 the room, where we found Wickets in a high 
 state of excitement in his night-dress, with a 
 recently-discharged revolver in his hand, and 
 several marks of blood were visible on the 
 floor and the sill of the open window from 
 which I had seen the men drop. 
 
 'When I dismissed the guard and he be- 
 came more composed, he told me that he had
 
 FROM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 185 
 
 just had a singular dream, in which he saw 
 two men, of whom one was the Lama priest, 
 armed each with a khandjur or Indian dagger, 
 which he knew by instinct to be poisoned, 
 enter the room stealthily by raising the green 
 jalousy of the window. He saw with terrible 
 distinctness their dark visages, their fierce 
 gleaming eyes and white glistening teeth, but 
 heard not a sound, so soft and muffled were 
 all their movements, and snake-like or Thu2:= 
 like mode of approaching him. 
 
 ' To add to the horror and misery of the 
 crisis, while perspiration rolled over his 
 temjDles, he felt as if deprived of all power 
 of volition, and was unable to find the re- 
 volver, which, like all the rest of us, he kept 
 loaded beneath his pillow. Another moment 
 and he knew the poniards would be in his 
 throat and heart. But a voice — a voice he 
 could not fail to recognise — the voice of his 
 mother, yet sounding strangely and seeming 
 to come as if from a vast distance, cried : 
 
 ^ " God aid ray poor boy, or he will 
 perish !"
 
 186 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' Then the spell seemed to break ; he 
 awoke, grasped his pistol, and started up to 
 see dimly through the mosquito curtains of his 
 charpoy the very men of his dream close by. 
 
 ' " I fired all the barrels in succession, 
 Stanley, giving three shots to each, Stanley," 
 said he, still all but breathless with fierce 
 excitement, " and I must surely have winged 
 at least one. Look at the blood there." 
 
 ' " How can these fellows have eluded my 
 sentries?" said I. 
 
 ' '' But about my mother's voice. Was it 
 not odd, Stanley?" 
 
 ' " A dream; and in danger you naturally 
 thought of her." 
 
 ' But more odd did we think this episode 
 when the next mail brought a letter from his 
 mother to little Wickets, who showed it to 
 me only. It was dated on the first day of the 
 new year, and described a painful dream she 
 had on the preceding night, in which she had 
 Seen him in his sleep in a strange place, and 
 on the point of assassination by two natives, 
 one of whom wore a high head-dress, a long
 
 FROM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 187 
 
 beard, and robe ; and that in her terror a cry 
 to heaven escaped her, so loud and piercing 
 that she had roused all the household, and 
 she concluded by imploring him to write or 
 telegraph from the nearest station without 
 delay, which we immediately did. 
 
 ' " But what are we to think of this strange 
 double dream, Stanley?'^ he said more than 
 once, after long thought. 
 
 ' " I think we should say nothing about it 
 to any of ours or of the Assam corps," said I, 
 " lest they take to chaffing you as a dreamer 
 and ghost-seer." 
 
 ' But I must own the coincidence startled 
 me till I had other things to think of, when, 
 at dawn on the morning of the day I shall 
 long remember, a sudden uproar in the midst 
 of the cantonment roused all to arms — all at 
 least save poor little Wickets, who was stricken 
 down with fever, and had been on the sick-list 
 for a week past. In the dark a body of Bho- 
 tanese had stolen past our sentinels and com- 
 menced with sharp swords and axes to slash 
 through the tent-ropes, while making a gene-
 
 188 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ral attack on the inmates with matchlocks, 
 arrows, and slings. 
 
 ' '' Stand to your arms — fall in ! Gunners, 
 stand by your guns ! Limber up !" 
 . ' Such were the shouts on every hand as 
 we scrambled into our ranks in the gloom and 
 obscurity ; and while the Eurasian artillery 
 rushed to their cannon, we, assisted by the 
 inlying piquet, commenced rapid and inde- 
 pendent file-firing in the direction where we 
 supposed the Bhotanese to be, by the noise 
 of their yells and by the red flashes of their 
 clumsy old matchlocks through the gray morn- 
 ing haze. We kept them effectually in check, 
 and as soon as the light was sufficiently in 
 and their exact position ascertained. Colonel 
 Campbell, who, like many others, was suffer- 
 ing from fever, charged them at once with 
 the 43rd and ours, and drove them completely 
 off; but not before — led by the Lama priest 
 in person — they made a vigorous attempt to 
 storm his stone-house, in which were our 
 quarters, and the key to the position. We 
 had a vast number killed and wounded, in-
 
 FKOM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 191 
 
 ' " The boy had replaced the photo under 
 his pillow, and as I retired to the table to make 
 up a draught for him, I saw there was steal- 
 ing over his face that strange beauty which 
 belongs not to earth; it was the calm, the 
 sublime expression of those who have got 
 their ' letter of readiness' for another world 
 than this. Then I heard him saying, in a low 
 caressing voice, ' Mother dear, do give me 
 something to moisten my lips; put your cool 
 hand on my temples. I am your own little 
 boy again, who will never, never leave you, 
 mother; and we shall be long, long together 
 now.' 
 
 ' " I was about to approach him with the 
 draught when I dropped the cup in terror 
 and dismay. Disbelieve me if you will, Stan- 
 ley, but do not mock me, when I tell you that, 
 plainly as I now see you face to face, I saw 
 bending over his bed, the wretched charpoy 
 of canes, the figure of an elegant woman, with 
 her face of wonderful brightness, her eyes full 
 of a sublimity, a sweetness, and loving expres- 
 sion beyond my power of description ; and I
 
 192 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 had only time to recognise in her the woman 
 of the photograph, his motlier, when the 
 phantom, the spirit, or whatever it was, 
 faded away." 
 
 ' Even while Crawford spoke there were 
 drops of perspiration on his brow, and he 
 added, 
 
 '''I was so awe-struck that, but for the 
 entrance of a hospital orderly, I believe that 
 I should have fainted ; but say nothing of all 
 this to any one, I beg of you." 
 
 ' I then told him of Wickets' dream, and 
 how he had escaped assassination the very 
 moment he imagined that he heard his 
 mother's voice. 
 
 ' " All this is passing strange," said he 
 after a pause, in which he took some brandy- 
 pawnee ; "we can only refer it to coincidence, 
 or that school of physics which is kept alive 
 by tradition, and which, for lack of a better 
 term, we call animal magnetism.^\ 
 
 ' Then, as if to explain what he had seen, 
 or fancied he had seen, rather to himself than 
 to me, he talked, as the Scots, like the Ger-
 
 FROM BRIGHTOX TO BlIOTAN. 193 
 
 mans, sometimes do, a deal about the wonder- 
 ful fibre of physiological relations (whatever 
 that may mean), and the manifestations of a 
 Power that has in view ends far higher, keener, 
 and more beautiful than we could see. 
 
 ' Certainly I could not see it ; but the 
 episode, so recent, enhanced the interest I felt 
 on entering the room where our young friend 
 lay dying among strangers, so far, far away 
 from his English home and all its English 
 surroundings, the beloved Absalom of his 
 mother ; and this thought came strongly upon 
 me as I drew near him in that dingy im- 
 promptu barrack-room. 
 
 ' The furniture there was his camp-bed on 
 one side, mine on the other, with a board-ship 
 washing-stand which had served us both. In 
 one corner stood some red Kedgeree pots for 
 bathing purposes; in another some bottles 
 rolled up in wet straw to keep the contents 
 cool ; a couple of bullock trunks, swords and 
 revolver cases, with cheroot boxes, were the 
 rest of the furniture. On the table were vials, 
 some linen soiled and stained with blood, a 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 plate of salt for disgorging leeches, some soda- 
 water bottles, a quantity of rich brown curly- 
 hair, recently shorn from the head of the suf- 
 ferer, the unfortunate fever-stricken lad, whose 
 once round cheeks were hollow and ghastly 
 now, whose head had been shaven by Crawford 
 close to the scalp, and whose pale temples 
 were spotted with red leech-marks. 
 
 ^ Though '' there was but one step between 
 him and death now" he was quite composed, 
 and greeted me with a smile as I took his hand 
 in mine when Crawford left us. 
 
 ' " I am going home, Stanley. I am going 
 home, old fellow. Give me a drink, please. 
 Thanks. Ah, it is some of Crawford's nasty 
 stuif ; he might give me bitter beer, as it mat- 
 ters little what I take nowy After a pause he 
 added, in full corroboration of Crawford's 
 story, "I have had such a delightful dream 
 about poor mother. I saw her so vividly, so 
 distinctly, and with a sweet smile on her face 
 as she bent over me, with he?' hands on my hrow; 
 and after kissing me she glided softly away. 
 I hope to have such a dream again. And you
 
 FROM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 201 
 
 loved very dearly; but I never could catch 
 her name in his mutterings.' 
 
 ^'Twas I,' said Fanny sadly; ^we were 
 nearly of an age, and were great companions. 
 How can we thank you for all the tender 
 commiseration and more than brotherly 
 kindness you have unconsciously told us 
 our poor boy received at your hands! Oh, 
 that dear mamma were alive to thank you!' 
 exclaimed the girl, while choked in tears she ' 
 took Stanley's hand in hers and, somewhat to 
 his confusion, kissed it. 
 
 'How very romantic — quite touching, in 
 fact !' was the sneering comment of Alf Foxley, 
 who stood with his back to the mantelpiece, 
 regarding the scene with a twinkle in his shifty 
 eyes, and genuinely astonished to see that tears 
 were dimming the eyes of Mabel in sympathy 
 with her friend. 
 
 'And you — aw — read the Burial Service?' 
 lisped the Reverend Alban Butterley, lying 
 back in his chair, with the tips of his wihte 
 fingers meeting prayerfully, as if he very much 
 pitied the poor Christian who had it done by
 
 202 DTD SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 one perhaps so unworthy. But Stanley merely 
 bowed to the well-bred ^apostle,' and won- 
 dered how his reverence might have read it 
 while within reach of the jagged bullets and 
 poisoned arrows of the Bhotanese. 
 
 Fanny Conyers seemed to feel something 
 of this too, for after his departure she said 
 smilingly to Stanley: 'Mr. Butterley is a 
 most agreeable clergyman, who — though you 
 will never meet him, like some, riding straight 
 in the hunting-field, at cover, or shooting well 
 on the 1st — excels in the mild excitements of 
 croquet and afternoon tea.' 
 
 Little Fanny Conyers was a taking creature, 
 winning in manner and attractive in person, 
 with bright laughing hazel eyes, cheeks round 
 and soft as peaches, with three dimples, one in 
 each and one in her chin, veritable fossettes 
 d* amour ^ that seemed to invite the lips of those 
 who looked on them ; and these won for her 
 the name of ' Dimples' from Foxley, in his 
 saucy way, when among men in the smoking- 
 room or elsewhere. 
 
 Stanley, somewhat touched by her emotion
 
 FROM BRIGHTON TO BHOTAN. 203 
 
 ' ' •' ■ ' — ' ' - ■ ■ ■ I -I. M ■ •m, ■ ■! ■ ■— —...■,,. ,...— ■ ■ I M ^ttmmtit^ai^»^i^dt»mt^mr 
 
 and the joint interest so suddenly awakened in 
 each other, making them seem quite old friends 
 in fact, gazed more particularly on Fanny, and 
 began to discover that her soft lash-shadowed 
 eyes of golden hazel were full of beauty, and 
 that her neck, on which her handsome head 
 was so perfectly poised, was fair and slender. 
 
 ' By Jove !' thought he, ' but poor Wicket's 
 sister is a deuced pretty girl, with something 
 almost infantine in the innocence of her ex- 
 pression and manner.' 
 
 Perhaps the empressement with which the 
 lovely lips had touched his hand was influenc- 
 ing our officer, who was not displeased to de- 
 tect a gathering cloud in the eyes of Milly 
 AUingham. All that evening, and repeatedly 
 on the following, the two sisters in general, 
 but Fanny in particular, monopolised Stanley, 
 they naturally had so much to ask and to hear ; 
 and to Milly it seemed that with w^onderful 
 rapidity 'they had become frightfully inti- 
 mate ;' and from that time her bearing seemed 
 alternately to be colder, haughtier, and prouder 
 than ever.
 
 204 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 Was she jealous of little Fanny and all her 
 spirituelle ways? 
 
 Rowland Stanley, in somewhat of a venge- 
 ful spirit, certainly hoped so, and yet she was 
 often so prettily petulant that Stanley's heart 
 beat happily at the prospect of taming her or 
 luring her like a love-bird to her cage.
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 COUSIN ALE MAKES UP HIS MIND. 
 
 Matters were still in the balance between our 
 military hero and the object of his wishes; 
 but the tables were somewhat turned on the 
 latter now. Her supposed admirer, Reynolds, 
 was gone. Rowland Stanley seemed rather to 
 affect Fanny Conyers, who coquettishly sang 
 to him more than once in her clear bird-like 
 
 voice, 
 
 He thinks I do not love him / 
 
 and it was especially provoking to see them 
 acting charades with great piquancy and em- 
 pressement. 
 
 Fanny Conyers clung much to Stanley 
 now : she had a hundred questions to ask con- 
 cerning her dead brother, and confidences to 
 make. Friendship with a girl so attractive 
 was perilous work, and but for the preoc- 
 cupation of his heart he might have found iu
 
 206 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 her an excellent counterfoil for the real or 
 pretended indifference of Milly Allingham. 
 Though conscious of the advantage perhaps to 
 be derived from her growing pique, he had 
 no desire to widen the kind of breach between 
 himself and the latter. 
 
 ^ Is it platonic affection that is springing 
 up between them?' she asked herself 'No; 
 I am not idiot enough to believe in that. It 
 never existed genuinely between even the mar- 
 ried, and is not likely to do so in this in- 
 stance.' So Milly was restless, for, though she 
 would not acknowledge it even to herself, he 
 had established an influence over her. 
 
 She had failed to have even the curate, 
 Alban Butterley, for an attache as she had said, 
 that reverend personage having to visit town 
 on some prolonged clerical business ; and save 
 when some of the Hussars, especially Lark- 
 spur, with his turfy talk and BeWs-Life phrases, 
 rode out from Brighton to leave their cards 
 for Seymour, she began to think Thaneshurst 
 somewhat of a ' slow' place after all, and her 
 thoughts began to flit after her mother to Wies-
 
 COUSIN ALF MAKES UP HIS MIND. 207 
 
 baden and the daily and nightly gaieties of the 
 Kursaal; for there now in the salons^ where 
 rouge-et-noir and roulette emptied the pockets 
 of many, the dancers whirl in the waltz, and 
 in the lovely gardens, where the losers blew 
 out their brains, flirtation to any amount is in 
 full progress, with all 'the subtlety imported 
 by the experience of the season' in London or 
 at Berlin. 
 
 She felt in her heart that she admired no 
 man more than she did Rowland Stanley. How 
 different he was from empty Yal Reynolds, 
 with his namby-pamby well-bred talk, and 
 from most of the other men she had met in 
 that mystic circle called 'society' ! How much 
 more interesting, anecdotical, and engrossing! 
 She was charmed with everything he talked 
 about, particularly his Indian reminiscences. 
 But then Fanny Conyers was enchanted with 
 them too; and Milly most seriously wished 
 that the episode of ' Little Wickets' had never 
 come on the tapis. 
 
 Besides, Stanley, popular everywhere, was 
 especially so among the little circle at Thanes-
 
 208 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 hurst. Dr. Clavicle and Alban Butterlev con- 
 sidered him quite intellectual, wonderfully so 
 for a soldier. Then why had she refused him ? 
 And now his leave of absence would soon be 
 coming to an end. He had already hinted 
 that he would be going soon after a ball that 
 was to be given by the Hussars. 
 
 Cousin Alf about this time made up his 
 mind. 
 
 If he had a genuine fancy in this world, 
 it was for Aimee de Bohun. With her saucy 
 fast ways, her cigarettes, her sealskin jacket 
 and made-up masses of golden hair ; her chaff- 
 ing conversation, often bordering on slang ; 
 her o^reen-room anecdotes and raffish com- 
 panions, — albeit she was such a lovely -looking 
 creature, with all her 'making-up,' she Avas 
 much more his style of woman than Mabel 
 Brooke. But Mabel's money was to him her 
 greatest attraction, alid he had all the pres- 
 tige of cousinship, combined with his uncle's 
 sreat reu:ard for him, on which to base his 
 hopes of success, could Seymour be put aside 
 or weeded out of her head and heart.
 
 COUSIN ALF MAKES UP HIS MIND. 20d 
 
 Moreover, her money would enable him to 
 keep secretly ' on the square' with Aimee ; for 
 he knew many a fellow in town who found it 
 very pleasant to serve ' under two flags.' His 
 ideas were very extravagant, his habits luxuri- 
 ous, and money was thus an imperious neces- 
 sity with him. 
 
 Foxley, now that his fit of alarm had 
 subsided and Tom Seymour was slowly pro- 
 gressing towards convalescence, felt his gld 
 rancorous hate return in all its strength, with 
 a regret that in ' the spill' at the lane his rival 
 had not received some almost mortal injury — 
 something more serious anyway than a dislo- 
 cated shoulder. If he feared and detested 
 him before, he detested and feared him more 
 than ever now. ^ Conscience makes cowards 
 of us all ;' but conscience did not quite make 
 one of Alf Foxley, though the police might. 
 
 He had hoped to bring ridicule, contempt, 
 suffering, and mutilation upon Tom. Now all 
 the deep-laid scheme, so carefully and secretly 
 carried out, had only ended in making him 
 an object of deeper solicitude to Mabel and of 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 interest to all — to all at least except Mrs. 
 Brooke. 
 
 When he occasionally visited the invalid, 
 how little could the latter, or the gallant and 
 soldierly Stanley, guess the secret and real 
 thoughts of his heart! Yet he would say, 
 cheerily and kindly to all appearance, while 
 seeking to hide a secret undercurrent of ill- 
 veiled suspicion, knowledge, and reserve : 
 
 ^ Glad to see you looking so well, old fel- 
 low. Smoke, Seymour, smoke ; you are dying 
 for a cheroot. Ah, your game arm ! Allow 
 me to apply the light for you;' and so forth. 
 
 ' Every one is very attentive to me,' said 
 Seymour, speaking with an effort. 
 
 ' Old Clavicle, " my dear sir," to use his 
 own perpetual phrase, is certainly pulling you 
 through, though he is only one of the red- 
 lamp-and-vaccination-gratis lot of sawbones ; 
 yet he is a wonderful fellow, Clavicle ; clear- 
 sighted ; can see his way through a millstone, 
 uncle Brooke says. Yet I saw a fellow get a 
 worse spill than you some weeks ago.' 
 
 ' Where ?'
 
 COUSIN ALF MAKES UP HIS MIND. 211 
 
 ' At Brighton races. I was then escorting 
 Mabel, of course, on Reynolds's drag : 
 
 * " And there on a high, box-seat we sat, 
 Together my last beloved and I ; 
 My gaze was fixed on her dainty hat, 
 
 And hers was bent on the wine hard by." ' 
 
 As he sang this verse, Stanley and Sey- 
 mour exchanged a covert smile, and the upper 
 lip of the latter quivered with anger, though 
 he cared little for the insouciance of Foxley 
 now. And often, when all were abed and 
 probably asleep, Tom would lie awake for 
 hours, while the clock on the mantelpiece 
 ticked monotonously and the night-light in a 
 Bohemian-glass vase shed rays of feeble light 
 that made the shadows in his room seem 
 ghastly. But he thought of Mabel with a 
 delight that bordered upon rapture and love 
 — the love he could return so freely ; and he 
 strove in vain to dream of her, as the charm 
 of her presence was there, for Mr. Mulbery 
 had informed him that the room had once 
 been hers ; thus, perhaps, her soft and peach- 
 like cheek had pressed the very pillow upon
 
 212 DTD SHE LOVE PIIM? 
 
 which he now lay ; and the last nightly mur- 
 mur on his lips was ever of her. 
 
 In his ardour he felt that, even were he 
 to die of his injuries, Mabel's love for him 
 would soften the terrors of death. But there 
 was no fear of the latter ; he felt himself lan- 
 guid indeed, but daily growing stronger, and 
 with health would come departure and separa- 
 tion. 
 
 Though his rival, Foxley, laughed in his 
 lieart at what he termed 'the superstition of 
 matrimony,' in the present instance he made 
 iip his mind to adopt it. 
 
 ^ By Jove !' thought he, ' I'll make my 
 running while the course is free and she is no 
 longer under the immediate influence of that 
 cad's society, the despatch-box and red-tape 
 quill-driver. To-morrow I shall propose to 
 Mabel, come ^vhat may. Mere hints, like 
 some I have given, won't do now,' he ex- 
 <ilaimed aloud, while surveying himself in the 
 mirror and performing heavily, almost vi- 
 <^iously, on his somewhat obstinate red .hair 
 with a pair of ivory -handled brushes.
 
 COUSIN ALF MAKES UP HIS MIND. 213 
 
 Foxley had gone in for a heavier book 
 than usual upon certain races. To use his 
 own phraseology, he had ' put a pot of money 
 on three good platers, one of which came in 
 second, the others nowhere ; so he would pro- 
 pose for Mabel in form. Nunky Brooke was 
 a kind old pump and would back him up to 
 any amount, as all was yet kept dark about 
 Aimee and her brougham.' 
 
 Accordingly next day, when luncheon was 
 over and the family circle was separating, he 
 followed Mabel into the library, whither, 
 luckily for his purpose, she had gone alone in 
 search of a book, and without much preamble, 
 in an anxious and exceedingly clumsy way, 
 he asked her to be his wife, adding that he 
 was sure such, a union would give satisfaction 
 to both families — to uncle Brooke especially. 
 
 We shall not detail this interview, save iii 
 so far as to say that Mabel, though irritated 
 and yet excessively amused, was not surprised, 
 as much of cousin Alfs previous line of con- 
 duct had led her to expect the declaration he 
 had just made.
 
 214 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' Please, Alf, don't make a fool of yourself, 
 and never speak on this subject to me again. 
 It is impossible ; and though I can never, never 
 love you in the fashion you wish, I know you 
 too well to think that you will act " the 
 blighted being" in consequence of my most 
 decided rejection.' 
 
 Extricating her right hand, of which he 
 had possessed himself, she forgot all about the 
 book for which she had * come ; and leaving 
 Alfred Foxley with unuttered curses on his 
 quivering lips — describing her as 'a cursed 
 hard nut to crack, a fool,' and so forth, ^only 
 fit for Hanwell !' — ran laughingly and yet with 
 a palpitating heart out of the library. Fox- 
 ley's declaration and proposal failed to excite 
 either gratitude or pity, even in the smallest 
 degree, in the heart of Mabel. Five words 
 will explain this. 
 
 With all her beauty and charms of manner 
 he did not love lier^ — in truth he loved no one 
 but himself, — and hence the true ring of pas- 
 sion was not in his voice when he addressed 
 her. He had no love for her, but he would
 
 COUSIN ALF MAKES UP HIS MIND. 21 
 
 r> 
 
 have had a great deal of pride in presenting 
 such a wife to the world on one hand, while 
 seeking, no doubt in vain, to make the fair 
 Aim^e believe that he had been compelled by 
 circumstances, his father's will and so forth, 
 to marry her. 
 
 Pausing at the door of the conservatory, 
 and fearing he might follow her and renew 
 the scene in the library, she pondered over 
 her cousin's abrupt proposal, and thought 
 tenderly of the poor fellow up-stairs to whom 
 she had given her whole heart — her own 
 gentle-voiced and gentle-eyed Tom ; and at 
 the moment Milly joined her. 
 
 ^ Mabel darling,' exclaimed the latter, sur- 
 veying her with some surprise, ^ why are you 
 so agitated ?' 
 
 '0 Milly, how can I tell you I' said Mabel, 
 with a little hysterical laugh. ^ I have just 
 had a proposal !' 
 
 ' A proposal ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; and you will never guess from 
 whom.' 
 
 ^ Not from — from Captain Stanley ?' she
 
 216 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 asked, with a too palpable change of co- 
 lour. 
 
 ' Oh, fie, no, MiUy !' 
 
 ' From whom, then ?' 
 
 ' Cousm Alf.' 
 
 ^ And you accepted him ! Then I shall 
 figure as a bridesmaid. But what about poor 
 Mr. Seymour?' 
 
 ' Milly, how can you jest so ! But come 
 this way ; here is Captain Stanley, and I am 
 so excited,' she added, putting an arm round 
 the waist of her friend, who said, laughing, 
 
 ^ As for me, I shall not think of matrimony 
 till I am spoken of as a ci-devant pretty wo- 
 man — for I daresay T am pretty — reduced, as 
 Miss Pardoe says, to a tour de tete and metallic 
 teeth.' 
 
 And as they passed into the conservatory, 
 Stanley, while approaching, heard the mock- 
 ing surmise, which he knew well was meant 
 for his particular ear. 
 
 ' I do hope Alf won't worry me again !' 
 exclaimed Mabel, as she rehearsed to her 
 friend all he had said. But Alf made all
 
 COUSIN ALF MAKES UP HIS MIND. 217 
 
 his arrangements, ordered Pupkins to have 
 the mail - phaeton ready, Mulbery to have 
 his traps packed, was off from Thaneshurst 
 before his absence at the dinner-table was 
 remarked, and took the evening train to 
 town to visit la belle Aimee, promising his 
 uncle, however, to be back in time for the 
 1st of September, leaving — he thought of it 
 with double hate and fury — the field entirely 
 to Tom Seymour.
 
 CHAPTER XYl. 
 
 HOW MR. BROOKE BLUNDERED. 
 
 Alf was gone now ; his gray -green or neutral- 
 tinted eyes — how well she remembered their 
 fierce expression in the library! — were no 
 longer there to watch her when she lay in 
 wait for Dr. Clavicle — in wait so slyly, dear 
 girl! — to ask with an air of carelessness, to 
 conceal her affectionate interest, about the 
 progress of his patient day by day, for now 
 her whole soul was absorbed in the sufferings 
 of Tom Seymour. 
 
 Her favourite flowers in the conservatory 
 were forgotten now; her pet love-birds that 
 were wont to feed from her rosy lips and 
 nestle in her white bosom — reminding one of 
 Greuze's famous picture — were left to the care 
 of Polly Plum, her maid ; and her favourite 
 pad, which was wont to whinny over her
 
 HOW MR. BROOKE BLUNDERED. 219 
 
 shoulder, follow her like a spaniel, and daily 
 look for a tiny feed of corn from the velvet 
 palm of her little hand, had to content him 
 with the care of Pupkins alone, that parao;on 
 of bandy-legged grooms, for Mabel had a 
 special care now that filled her anxious heart. 
 
 She abandoned herself to her love, wilfully, 
 as it were, with eyes half-closed, striving to 
 forget that which could not be forgotten, and 
 seeking hard — oh, so hard, poor girll^to 
 teach herself that, by not looking destiny too 
 steadily in the face, a time would come when 
 her parents might allow her to become the 
 happy little wife of Tom Seymour. 
 
 How she longed to take the place — but 
 that was not to be thought of for a moment — 
 
 of the cold-hearted and methodical yet fussy 
 professional nurse whom Dr. Clavicle had pro- 
 vided for Tom, and whom she was quite con- 
 vinced must be a genuine 'Mrs. Gamp;' but 
 when, accompanied by her father and Stanley, 
 poor Mabel did see her lover, all pillowed and 
 propped up for the occasion, she was shocked 
 to behold the change in him as she took in
 
 220 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 hers his thin and wasted hand, he looked so 
 ghastly and white, his rich brown hair was 
 shorn short, and his handsome moustache and 
 beard clipped quite close. 
 
 She shrunk back timidly too, as the 
 avowal she had made on the day of the cata- 
 strophe made her very reserved, for the great 
 secret of each heart was known to the other 
 now. 
 
 'Opapa, he looks frightful!' she exclaimed 
 with an irrepressible sob, after they withdrew. 
 ' Can he — will he live ?' 
 
 ' Live ? of course he will ! Tom is one of 
 those tough fellows that don't die easily,' 
 replied the old gentleman cheerily. ' What a 
 kind little puss you are to be affected so ! But 
 before a week is over you may give him a 
 drive round the park in your pony-carriage.' 
 
 ' papa, but mamma mayn't approve.' 
 
 'I know she wouldn't; but I'll take the 
 blame, and choose a day when she is at a 
 Dorcas meeting or some such thing. Why 
 should not we be all kind to the poor fellow — 
 old Tom Seymour's son? Lord, girl! when I
 
 HOW MR. BROOKE BLUNDERED. 221 
 
 think of the games Tom and I used to have 
 when we were in old Scrawl's office in Birchin- 
 lanel' 
 
 Consequently, a few days after Tom was 
 convalescent — able to be ' up and about,' as 
 Dr. Clavicle had it— Mr. Brooke ordered the 
 pony-carriage from the stables. Tom was 
 handed therein by Stanley, and with Mabel, 
 blushing under her veil, as a charioteer — 
 blushing at her OAvn thoughts and the whole 
 situation — he departed for a little drive at a 
 time when Mrs. Brooke and her three young 
 visitors had ^one with the carriao;e to the 
 Pavilion at Brighton, and also to get some 
 minor requisites for the forthcoming Hussar 
 ball, and ere their return the 7'esult of what 
 she would have termed ' Mr. Brooke's blun- 
 dering arrangement' was accomplished. 
 
 Both at first, though their hearts were 
 beating lightly with the purest happiness, 
 were somewhat silent for a little space; and 
 after the beauty of the day, the loveliness of 
 the grass and trees, the mildness of the air, 
 and the easy action of the pony-phaeton had
 
 222 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 been fully admitted, it became necessary to 
 talk of something else. 
 
 Tom thought he had never seen Mabel 
 look more lovely ; her colour was heightened, 
 and there was a shy glance in her eyes that 
 enhanced their beauty of expression. She 
 was, as usual, most becomingly dressed in 
 morning costume, with perfectly-fitting driv- 
 ing-gloves, the daintiest of hats on her pretty 
 head, Avith a ruby- coloured drooping feather 
 that at times swept the cheek of Tom as the 
 wind waved it, and her veil was tied under 
 her chin — the fashion then ; but by the time 
 they had gone twice round the park it had 
 somehow been loosened, no doubt that she 
 might converse with more ease. 
 
 Tom Seymour began rapidly to feel the 
 impossibility of not referring to the subject 
 with which his heart was full. 
 
 ' It was so kind of you to — to grieve for 
 me so when my horse threw me,' said he. 
 
 ' How could any one fail to grieve ?' she 
 answered, blushing deeply ; ^ it was a terrible 
 time !*
 
 HOW MR. BROOKE BLUNDERED. 223 
 
 ' A sweet time to me, Mabel. I called 
 you Mabel then ; oh, let me do so now — now 
 and for ever !' 
 
 ' Tom !^ 
 
 Her head fell on his shoulder, and the 
 wind blew up her veil, and a blindness seemed 
 to come over Tom as his lip met hers. In 
 day-dreams and night-dreams how often had 
 he thought of and longed for the time when 
 they might — as I think it is a song has it—; 
 
 ' In one long, long and loving kiss 
 Concentrate all love's ling'ring bliss.* 
 
 And now the time had come. 
 
 They were very silent those two, for with 
 all the joy of the present they could not shut 
 their eyes to the doubt and gloom of the 
 future, after a time ; but at first, entranced in 
 love, they were forgetful of all the world — of 
 all and everything but themselves and the 
 wild joy of the time — a time, alas, too brief 
 and fleeting. 
 
 The reins had fallen on the backs of the 
 ponies, who jogged on unguided through the 
 leafy dingles of the wooded chase, and ulti-
 
 224 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 mately, ere Mabel roused herself and remem- 
 bered where she was, they had stopped and 
 betaken themselves to quietly cropping the 
 herbage, as well as their bridle-bits would 
 permit them. 
 
 Eapture and weakness, consequent to his 
 recent suffering, filled the eyes of Seymour 
 Avith tears as he gazed from time to time into 
 the calm, loving, and candid orbs of Mabel, 
 and felt that she was his own Mabel now. 
 
 ' My own — my own, and I have won you 
 at last!' exclaimed he in a low voice, as he 
 caressed her face between his hands. 
 
 ^ Tom — Tom, I do love you very dearly. 
 I always loved you, and, amid my terror in 
 the lane on that dreadful day, the — the secret 
 escaped me. How strange, Tom, to think 
 that the first declaration should come from 
 weP she added, with a blushing smile that 
 was delightfully shy and coy. 
 
 And this was the dear and candid girl that 
 he had often heard Yal Eeynolds and others 
 aver in their parlance ^was meant for some 
 big fish,' she whose face now nestledin his neck.
 
 HOW MR. BROOKE BLUNDERED. 225 
 
 After a time Mabel began to remember 
 that whicb Seymour had forgotten — that some 
 eyes unseen might be upon them. She re- 
 sumed her parasol-whip and reins, and again 
 the pony-phaeton made the circuit of the park, 
 the very stateliness of which brought practic- 
 ally home to poor Tom the rashness of the 
 love to which they had abandoned themselves ; 
 and they began to talk, not always as young 
 people in the noon and flush of love will talk 
 
 « 
 
 of their past hopes and fears or their present 
 joy, but of plans for their desperate future — a 
 future to be passed in eternal celibacy, of 
 course, if the Fates— z.^. Mr. and Mrs. John 
 Brooke — were unkind. 
 
 Stanley, with Miss Allingham and the 
 Miss Conyers, could be seen at intervals, 
 through openings in the coppice, at croquet 
 on the sunny lawn before the house. The 
 drive was fortunately over before 'mamma,' 
 who had returned, knew precisely where 
 Mabel was, and when she reined up at the 
 porte-cochere she absolutely fled to her own 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 room, and a valet gave Tom the assistance of 
 an arm to his ; but there was a strong expres- 
 sion of timid consciousness in Mabel's face that 
 day, and she quailed under the scrutinising 
 glance of her mother while nervously dis- 
 cussing the forthcoming Hussar ball, what 
 was to be worn, and who were sure to be 
 there. 
 
 When the usual time came for the ladies 
 to retire to the drawing-room, Mabel put her 
 arm round the waist of her friend, and 
 said, 
 
 'Kiss me, Milly darling; I am so happy !' 
 
 Then Milly by these words knew all. 
 
 Already had Tom's engagement-ring — one 
 that had been his mother's — encircled her 
 ' engaged finger' — the fourth, as the thumb 
 always counts one in arranging this mysteri- 
 ous hoop ; but Mabel had to wear her glove 
 over it or otherwise conceal it among her 
 many rings from ' mamma.' As for Mr. 
 Brooke, honest man, he was ignorant of such 
 vanities. 
 
 And now, after the late tumult of happy
 
 HOW MR. BROOKE BLUNDERED. 227 
 
 thought, as Tom lay, feverish and weak — for 
 he had used his lame arm more than usual 
 during the drive — on the sofa in his room, 
 came the time for agitating reflection. Love 
 had been mutually avowed and promises of 
 faith exchanged, beyond a doubt; but how 
 would all this end ? 
 
 Ay, there was the rub ! 
 
 Her parents — their consent was so hopeless 
 of attainment ; and he thought they might 
 with justice bitterly accuse him of treachery 
 and abuse of their hospitality in obtaining the 
 love of their daughter unknown to them. 
 And he thought, moreover, this guileless 
 fellow, oh, were Mabel only poor, or had she 
 never known such wealth, even with his small 
 means (and those vast resources in the future 
 peculiar always to youth), how happy could 
 they be in some snug little rose-covered cot- 
 tage at Richmond or Staines, Brixton or 
 anywhere else. Hopes and dreams embodied 
 their waking life, a life of joy; and how 
 pleasant would be even the dull routine of 
 olHce work, when he knew that on returning
 
 228 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 Mabel's face would meet him smiling at the 
 garden-gate ! 
 
 Dreams, dreams, as yet ! 
 
 Mrs. Brooke took especial good care that 
 there should be no more work with the pony- 
 phaeton, in spite of her husband's reiterated 
 assertions that it 'done Tom so much good, 
 that drive had;' and from that day he re- 
 covered so fast that Dr. Clavicle's professional 
 visits ceased. He little knew that one smile 
 from Mabel Brooke, one glance of her mag- 
 netic eye, or one touch of her pretty hand, 
 were worth all the specifics in the London 
 Pharmacopoeia. 
 
 The contents of the last box from Mudie's 
 (like the best flowers in the garden) were 
 always culled for Tom, who knew precisely 
 the passages which MabePs pencil had marked 
 for his attention. Ere lono; he was allowed to 
 descend to the drawing-room, where she could 
 shed the light of her beauty, her sweetness, 
 and tenderness around him, and play and sing 
 to him, while they strove to shut their eyes 
 to the fact that he must leave her some day.
 
 HOW MR. BROOKE BLUNDERED. 229 
 
 and the delicious present would irrevocably 
 become the past. 
 
 So Foxley had brought about a denouement 
 he could not have anticipated, and the end of 
 which he could not foresee.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Stanley's eesolve. 
 
 And now came the 1st of September, the clay 
 but one before the military ball. Badenoch, 
 Larkspur, and others were coming to Thanes- 
 hurst, but Tom had no fear of rivalry with 
 any one, whatever Stanley might have. And 
 Alfred Foxley also came, with a fresh batch 
 of photos of Aimee to be admired in secret, 
 and with pleasant recollections of jolly but 
 rather expensive dinners at Richmond, Star- 
 and-Garter luncheons, and picnics with ' fast' 
 people on the river, or tiny dinners with her 
 and some others of the ballet at the Welsh 
 Harp, with ' dry fizz,' a cutlet or so, and 
 cucumber cut as thin as a gossamer-web, 
 winding up by a supper at the Gaiety after 
 the green rag was down. 
 
 There was not much of importance to our 
 story occurred on the otherwise important 1st
 
 Stanley's resolve. 231 
 
 of September, but much that was so came to 
 pass on the evening thereof and the following 
 day. 
 
 The First came gloriously in, with un- 
 clouded sunshine and a gentle genial breeze. 
 
 At Thaneshurst there were a billiard-room 
 and smoking-room, but no gun-room. Those 
 who came thither for the grouse- and part- 
 ridge-shooting had to bring their own arms 
 and ammunition. At breakfast there was a 
 fair gathering of lovers of the trigger, who 
 had been invited by Mr. Brooke (though he 
 never handled a gun himself), including the 
 Master of Badenoch, Major Larkspur, young 
 Craven, and others. And disquisitions that 
 were most mysterious to the ladies ensued 
 ' anent,' as the Scots say, the various special- 
 ties and qualities of pointers, retrievers, and 
 setters, and of firearms, the ' pin' breechloader, 
 the merits of the Henry-Martini rifle, central- 
 fire, and all the rest of it, till the very whirr 
 of the partridge seemed to rise to the listener's 
 ear. 
 
 All had donned generally a good style of
 
 232 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 shooting-dress, but Foxley wore an elaborate 
 tweed-suit, with knickerbockers and innumer- 
 able pockets. He thought he was perfect, 
 even to his Brighton pebble sleeve-links set in 
 p-old. and did not hear Larkspur's comment to 
 Craven : 
 
 ' How that snob is got up, by Jove !' said 
 the major, with his glass in his eye. 
 
 The breakfast proceeded merrily and was 
 somewhat protracted, and most of the con- 
 versation ran on sporting matters — of preserves 
 where birds were fat and trapping easy for 
 poachers ; of sport in different countries, from 
 knocking over partridges in Kent to ptarmigan 
 in Scotland and Norway. 
 
 And it w^as on this day that Tom Sej'mour 
 for the first time since his mishap made his 
 appearance in the dining-room, but looking 
 pale and thin. 
 
 ' How well you look, Seymour, after it all ! 
 Not a hair of your coat turned, as Pupkins 
 would say,' exclaimed the hypocritical Foxley, 
 as he shook his victim's hand, and then seated 
 himself beside his uncle, to whom he always
 
 STANLEY'S RESOLVE. 233 
 
 paid assiduous court — more, indeed, than he 
 was wont to do to Mabel. 
 
 ' Tom seems quite another man, Alf,' said 
 old Mr. Brooke, eyeing his young friend kindly. 
 ' It is wonderful how fast he has picked up 
 since the day he drove out.' 
 
 ' So it would seem, uncle,' replied Alf, 
 with a slight grimace ; while he muttered 
 under his red moustache, ' Hang it ! he and 
 Mabel must have been makino: strono; runnino^ 
 together, from all I have heard. However, 
 I'll bring her to book yet, if I can. Nev^r 
 venture, never win !' 
 
 How little did he think that the ring with 
 which he saw her toying from time to time 
 during breakfast had so recently been slipped 
 upon her pretty finger by the rival whose in- 
 fluence he hated and feared so much, and at 
 whom, more than once, she smiled covertly 
 and so consciously, with a soft fond look in her 
 violet-blue eyes, and a quiver on her sweet 
 sensitive lips ! For there was now established 
 between the twain that delicate relation, known 
 to themselves alone — save Milly Allingham —
 
 234 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 which both understood so well, and which 
 made them both so supremely happy. How 
 different was her state of mind now from any- 
 thing she had ever before experienced ; and, 
 oh, how unlike was her ^ own dear, dear Tom' 
 to all the other men in the world ! 
 
 She had said all this to Milly again and 
 again, when both were supposed to be sound 
 asleep in their respective couches at night; 
 and had expressed quite as often, that she 
 ' had no patience' with that young lady's co- 
 quetry and caprice in her relations with Row- 
 land Stanley ; and was always affirming that, 
 whatever ^papa or mamma might assert or 
 say,' she would never, never marry a man she 
 did not love. People never did those kind of 
 things now, except in novels, and seldom even 
 then. 
 
 ' I am so sorry, Alf, that poor Tom can't 
 go with you to-day,' resumed Mr. Brooke to 
 his amiable nephew. 
 
 ' Better not. We shall be safer without 
 him.' 
 
 'How? Why?'
 
 Stanley's resolve. 235 
 
 ^ I suppose the amount of his experience 
 in sporting is potting pigeons at the Scrubs, 
 or finches on Barnes Common/ replied Alf, 
 who found it impossible to resist a sneer. 
 ^ And even if he had read up Colonel Hawker 
 on " Shooting' and Hans Busk on the " Rifle," 
 he would be a source of peril ; for if his shoot- 
 ing is like his riding — ' 
 
 ' My friend Tom rides very well, and sits 
 his horse like a gentleman,' struck in Stanley, 
 who, though seated opposite, heard, amid the 
 buzz of the breakfast-table, the remarks of 
 Foxley. 
 
 ' Perhaps so, Captain Stanley ; he may ride 
 along a road very well, but he tumbled off, 
 you see, the moment he attempted to ride as 
 if across country.' 
 
 All unconscious of these remarks, and that 
 Foxley perhaps would not have been sorry to 
 put a charge of Number 6 into him, if he had 
 been able to go with the shooting-party, the 
 subject of them was intently listening to every 
 remark, however trivial, that fell from the 
 lips of the girl he loved.
 
 236 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ' Your ball, it seems, is sure to prove a 
 brilliant success,' said she to the major, who 
 was busy with some grouse-pie. 
 
 ' Ya-as,' he replied, with a drawl ; and 
 then, turning to Milly Allingham, he added, 
 most probably by chance, ' By the way, our 
 friend Yal Reynolds is coming to it.' 
 
 Milly coloured in spite of herself, and 
 merely bowed to the major. No more passed, 
 but there seemed an inference here, a conjunc- 
 tion of persons or ideas, that irritated Stan- 
 ley; and still more was he to be so ere the 
 day was over. And now the party prepared 
 to set forth. Sandwiches were stowed away 
 in silver boxes, and pocket-pistols were filled 
 by Mr. Mulbery, though a luncheon was 
 coming, in addition, in the pony-phaeton; and 
 as the sportsmen prepared to set forth, Mrs. 
 Brooke was not ill-pleased to see that the 
 Master of Badenoch was much disposed to 
 linger with Mabel. 
 
 Why did not Mrs. Brooke, with all her 
 adoration of the Peerao^e, ' sco in' for the culti- 
 vation of the Master ? it may be asked. The
 
 Stanley's resolve. 237 
 
 truth was, that, with all her vanity and selfish- 
 
 7 7 »/ 
 
 ness, she would have shrunk from intrusting 
 her only daughter to such a husband ; his 
 character for wildness and recklessness was 
 serious, and his debts were averred to be 
 overwhelming. With her, riches were only 
 the means to an end — yet not the end of her 
 ambition — to see Mabel's name among the 
 Peerage, or even the Baronetage ; to be able 
 to talk of ^ my daughter. Lady Mabel ;' but 
 'mistress of Badenoch,' even had the Master 
 (one day to be a viscount) been a desirable 
 partly she could not understand. It was 
 Scotch perhaps; but any way it sounded strange 
 to an English ear. Badenoch, like Larkspur, 
 had a handsome fortune in prospect ; yet both 
 made no secret in the regiment of the trouble 
 they had to make both ends meet in an ex- 
 travagant corps, and how often they were 
 reduced to %ing kites and taking up each 
 other's bills. 
 
 In other respects young Badenoch was 
 after her own heart. Had he not, like the 
 Lord of Glenroy, ' a family tree on which all
 
 238 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 the birds of the air might have roosted.' claim- 
 ing, though a very matter-of-fact Hussar, a 
 descent from that Lord of Badenoch who was 
 Scottish ambassador at the Court of Louis IX., 
 and the surety of the marriage of his king 
 with Johanna of England ? 
 
 But she very little knew that in secret he 
 was a very aristocratic ' snob,' who, while 
 * polishing off' her good old husband's pre- 
 serves, skilful enough to kill his five-and- 
 twenty brace of birds per day, and enjoying 
 his hospitality, agreed with Larkspur, that 
 ^ Brooke was a rum old file ; kept horses 
 though he never rode them, and cellars full of 
 tip-top wine though he drank very little of 
 it. His bunk at Thaneshurst was,' they ad- 
 mitted to each other, ' a deuced improvement 
 upon Brighton Barracks.' 
 
 No doubt its stately rooms Avere so to 
 theirs, with hard-wood or doubtful mahogany 
 tables, stained with the rings of long-since 
 emptied tumblers of grog and champagne- 
 glasses; littered with dog-eared Army Lists^ 
 and yellow-covered French novels ; by torn
 
 Stanley's kesolve. 239 
 
 bills of the Brighton Theatre, old kids, billets- 
 doux from actresses and sewing girls, unpaid 
 bills, meerschaums, cigar-ashes, and soda- 
 water bottles, and suchlike samples of bachelor 
 life in H.B.M. barracks ; though we have been 
 in many a subaltern's room, furnished with 
 elegance, where such samples were not to be 
 seen. 
 
 From the terrace, Mr. Brooke, with his 
 old face radiant with pleasure, accompanied 
 by the ladies and Seymour, saw the sportsmen 
 set forth, and proceed laughingly and noisily 
 down the avenue, to where the beaters and 
 keepers awaited them at the corner of a cop- 
 pice ; and Foxley, as his uncle's representative, 
 took charge of the arrangements. 
 
 ' Badenoch,' said he, ' you will go to the 
 top of the cover on the right. Captain Stan- 
 ley, will you please go by the left? Major 
 Larkspur and I will keep in the centre till we 
 emerge in the field beyond.' 
 
 ' Yewy good,' lisped the Master of Bade- 
 noch. 
 
 'Ah,' said Alf, ' you'll find this something
 
 240 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 better than your " Tommiebeg" business in 
 Scotland.' 
 
 The other sportsmen were all neighbours, 
 including the Reverend Alban Butterley, and, 
 knowing the ground, required no instruction ; 
 and after passing through the belt of trees, the 
 far extent of stubble or grass fields, interspersed 
 here and there by gorse-covered knolls, spread 
 in the sunshine before the sportsmen, the 
 s^uns beo^an to bano^ off here and there as 
 the brown coveys rose whirring upward, and 
 the serious business of that great epoch, the 
 First of September, began in earnest, in a way 
 that would have astonished our forefathers ; 
 for does not Smollett tell us in Sir Lancelot 
 Greaves^ as a momentous circumstance, that 
 one of his characters was so deadly a shot that 
 he could shoot dead a crow upon the wing ! 
 
 As it was less to enjoy the sport than to 
 cast himself once more into the society of 
 Milly Allingham that Eowland Stanley had 
 come to Thaneshurst, to chronicle all the 
 various feats of the party and the number of 
 birds each 'knocked over' is no j)art of our plan..
 
 Stanley's resolve. 241 
 
 Stanley was a fair average sportsman, and 
 more than once had potted his tiger from a 
 howdah, and even from the branch of a tree, 
 in India. He was one of the best shots of the 
 party, and frequently elicited the praise of the 
 keepers, by the mode in which he selected his 
 
 birds, and the clever manner in which he 
 killed them; but his mind was wanderins; 
 away from the partridges ; the excitement of 
 the sport, the spirit of emulation, the desire to 
 excel in the work of slaughter, to parade be- 
 fore the ladies the biggest bag of the party, 
 the sylvan beauty of the scenery, and the clear 
 brilliance of the day— all failed to exhilarate him. 
 Milly's bearing perplexed, and the trivial 
 remark made by Larkspur, about the ball of 
 the morrow night, irritated him. Had her 
 name been coupled with that of Reynolds 
 amid the mess-room gossip and banter of the 
 Hussars? It almost seemed so; and when 
 luncheon was brought by Mulbery in the 
 pony -phaeton, and the shooting-party gathered 
 to refresh their ' inner man,' and lay grouped 
 on the grass by twos or threes, between the in- 
 
 VOL. L R
 
 242 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 tervals of discussing chicken and ham, raised 
 Yorkshire pies, bitter beer, hock, dry sherry, 
 and champagne, he had to endure some such re- 
 marks as these, made not always in low tones : 
 
 'Yes,' said Lieutenant Craven, assenting 
 to a remark of Larkspur, ' I agree with you 
 that Miss Allingham is a girl of unexception- 
 ally good style, but rather coquettish and all 
 that sort of thing, don't you know.' 
 
 ' I don't say she is a regular flirt,' replied 
 the major, while leisurely rolling up a cigar- 
 ette ; ' but there is no doubt, I believe, that 
 she did make uncommon strong running with 
 Yal Reynolds of the Guards.' 
 
 ' Reynolds again !' thought Stanley, with 
 a silent adjective hovering on his lips. 
 
 ' He is the heir to a title, you know,' said 
 Craven ; ' and, being so, I cannot understand 
 why the little Brooke girl didn't try to have 
 her innings in that quarter.' 
 
 'Perhaps she didn't want to rival her friend ; 
 besides, one may see with half an eye that she 
 is devilish spoony on that city fellow Sey- 
 mour, don't you know.'
 
 Stanley's resolve. 243 
 
 'And I'll go bail/ said an Irish captain, 
 striking in, ' that the mammas of both studied 
 Burke and Debrett well before they came out 
 in London — pass the sherry, Craven — and as 
 far as Reynolds and she are concerned, the 
 little birds say — ' 
 
 These slipshod remarks were gall and 
 wormwood to Stanley, and yet he feared that 
 Milly Allingham had laid herself oipen to them, 
 so he turned off, without waitins; to listen to 
 the gossip of ' the little birds.' 
 
 Noon was long since past now, and it was 
 proposed to work their way back again, 
 through the fields, towards the belt of coppice, 
 in which, or about the gorse near which, many 
 of the coveys were supposed to have taken 
 shelter; and as the party neared Thaneshurst 
 Stanley was thankful that the great epoch, the 
 First of September, was over at last. 
 
 To have left befo7'e that day, when he had 
 come ostensibly and apparently expressly 
 for the shooting, would have been impossible 
 without exciting comment or suspicion that 
 something was wrong. Indeed it would have
 
 244 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 been offensive to Mr. Brooke. But now 
 Thaneshurst was intolerable to him ; so truly 
 it is, that some men in loving a woman 
 must have all her heart or none. 
 
 Ideas of rejoining the regiment again oc- 
 curred to him; and, at all events, as he had 
 no intention of returning for the short re- 
 mainder of his leave of absence to empty Lon- 
 don, as the first movement in his new plans, 
 he telegraphed to Tattersall that very night to 
 sell a pair of nags he had left with him ; and 
 he would leave Thaneshurst on the morrow — 
 but for where, he scarcely knew. Anyhow, 
 the offhand remarks of the Hussars had called 
 to memory all his past suspicion and raised 
 his pique, his pride, and jealousy to fever-heat. 
 Many other guests were coming to Thanes- 
 hurst, and no doubt, when once he was gone, 
 she would soon forget that such a fond fool as 
 himself existed. 
 
 Yet, when the morrow came, so unstable 
 was he of purpose, that he changed his plans 
 once again — unstable, at least, so far as Milly 
 was concerned.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 UNSTABLE. 
 
 « 
 
 On the evening of the First a tolerably large 
 party were assembled in the drawing-room, 
 and in Mrs. Brooke's boudoir, a charmin": 
 little bijou apartment, which opened off it. 
 The past day's sport, \h^ prospects for to- 
 morrow, and the coming ball, formed ample 
 subjects for discussion, and Stanley felt that 
 the game of cross purposes between him and 
 Milly Allingham was becoming more and 
 more entangled. 
 
 She had a grudge against him, that was all 
 the strono;er because it was utterly unreason- 
 able. ^He asked me once to love him, and I 
 certainly trifled with him,' thought she ; ' but 
 why, when he has so many opportunities here, 
 does he not ask me again ? Perhaps I would 
 not trifle with him now.' 
 
 But this, in her pride of heart, she would
 
 246 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 neither communicate nor admit, even to her 
 friend and gossip Mabel Brooke ; and because 
 Stanley's regard seemed to have cooled down 
 into mere friendship since he came to Thanes- 
 hurst, on this evening she revenged herself 
 by flirting and coquetting with the somewhat 
 ponderous Badenoch, till Stanley was, to use 
 a common phrase, ' wild ;' but in all her doings 
 Milly had much of what a writer calls ' that 
 aplomb which is part of the armour of a 
 woman of the world.' 
 
 Badenoch had a head of carefully -parted 
 hair, was handsome, but not overgifted with 
 brains, and as the only son of a wealthy vis- 
 count was not supposed to require them much ; 
 yet to Araminta, Fanny Conyers's younger 
 sister, he seemed quite a hero — ' an Agamem- 
 non,' as she said, without having the least idea 
 of what the king of MycenaB was, but thought 
 she had seen him at Madame Tussaud's in 
 Baker Street; and she quite envied Milly 
 when she saw the two sitting somewhat apart 
 from all the rest in Mrs. Brooke's tiny boudoir, 
 which was charmingly furnished with blue
 
 UNSTABLE. 247 
 
 silk and maple-wood, tables and consoles 
 covered with expensive and grotesque china, 
 jardinieres of sv/eet- smelling plants, with jets 
 springing amid them, and basins with gold- 
 fish darting about, with baskets hung in the 
 windows ; and in one corner a beautiful little 
 whatnot littered with crested note-paper ; in 
 another a cottage-piano, over which hung a 
 water-colour of Thaneshurst, done by Mabel. 
 Here then, when Stanley handed Fanny 
 Conyers to the piano, and turned the leaves 
 for her while she coyly sung her inevitable 
 
 • He thinks I do not love him,' 
 
 he found Milly and the Hussar laughingly 
 discussing love and matrimony, and the latter 
 regarding her with a somewhat puzzled ex- 
 pression as she concluded something she was 
 saying, by adding, 
 
 ' You know Dean Swift says, humorously, 
 that "married people, for being so closely 
 united, are but the apter to cease loving ; as 
 knots the harder they are pulled break the 
 sooner."^ And then, thinking perhaps she 
 had gone quite far enough, or not wishing to
 
 248 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 leave the pair at the piano entirely to them- 
 selves, she crossed the room and joined them. 
 
 Stanley looked on her with something of 
 sadness, as he thought that after to-morrow 
 night he should see her no more, as he had 
 resolved to leave England — most certainly 
 Sussex ; he would brook the torture and 
 suspense to which she subjected him no more. 
 And even now, when gazing on her wonderful 
 beauty, as she bent over Fanny, it seemed to 
 him strange and sorrowful that a time must 
 come when it must fade and she would grow 
 old, that it should utterly pass away. But 
 are we not told in ancient story, that the most 
 difficult office imposed upon Psyche was to 
 descend to the lower regions, and bring thence 
 some portion of Proserjoine's beauty in a box ; 
 and that when, impelled by curiosity, she 
 raised the lid, there came forth but a vapour, 
 which was all that remained of her wonderful 
 loveliness ? 
 
 The two happiest persons there, though 
 they barely interchanged twenty words, were 
 Tom Seymour and Mabel Brooke. In the
 
 UNSTABLE. 249 
 
 earlier days of her girlhood many men, then 
 as now, came about Thaneshurst and the house 
 in Park Lane ; yet she never wondered, like 
 other girls, who would propose, or if they did 
 whom she would marry. 
 
 It was Tom Seymour — always Tom — who 
 had filled the girl's heart. They scarcely 
 spoke, but their eyes were eloquent enough, 
 as the watchful Foxley detected. Though 
 without an iota of genuine love for his 
 cousin, and with what heart or soul he did 
 possess full of his fair friend Aimee, Alf 
 Foxley looked very darkly on the secret 
 intelligence that too evidently subsisted be- 
 tween his cousin and 'that cad Seymour,' 
 especially when he recalled the blunt cold 
 brevity of her refusal of his — to say the least 
 of it — very matter-of-fact proposal. Yet he 
 resolved to try his fortune with her once 
 again, perhaps when returning together from 
 the Hussar ball ; but she never gave him the 
 wished-for opportunity. 
 
 ' One is necessarily cautious of using strong 
 terms in these days of persistent repression of
 
 250 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 all emotions,' says a writer. By the same 
 rule we have frequently to model our features 
 to suit the occasion ; but in this art Foxley did 
 not much excel when roused. He had imbibed 
 a good deal of wine at dinner, and now there 
 was an evil glare in his eyes and an inflation 
 of his nostrils with rage, as he leaned against 
 the velvet- fringed mantelpiece ; his teeth were 
 set, his hands involuntarily clenched, and he 
 would have struck Seymour before Mabel's 
 face but for the utter outrageousness of such 
 a proceeding. 
 
 'What is this Tom Seymour tells me 
 Captain Stanley,' said Mr. Brooke, suddenly 
 approaching the trio at the piano, ' that you 
 are going to leave us after the Hussar 
 ball? 
 
 ' I fear that I must, Mr. Brooke,' replied 
 Stanley, while Milly looked at him with a 
 startled expression in her dark eyes, an 
 expression which, with all her tact, she 
 failed to conceal from him. 
 
 ' After one day's shooting !' exclaimed Mr. 
 Brooke.
 
 UNSTABLE. 251 
 
 'I shall then have had two,' replied 
 Stanley, smiling. 
 
 ' My dear sir, the thing is not to be 
 thought of.' 
 
 ' I must indeed, with a thousand thanks to 
 you, Mr. Brooke, think of decamping so soon, 
 as I leave England at an early period.' 
 
 ' I am so sorry to hear this. My dear 
 Milly, could you not prevail on our friend to 
 change his mind?' 
 
 A little flush shot over her face, as she 
 said, 
 
 ' 1 fear Captain Stanley is too thoroughly 
 a roving Englishman, who is no sooner in any 
 place than he begins to scheme how best to 
 get away from it, and never knows where his 
 happiness really lies; so I fear, Mr. Brooke, 
 my poor attempts at persuasion would prove 
 fruitless.' 
 
 And with a sweet smile, while bowing and 
 fanning herself, she passed out of the boudoir, 
 and took a seat in the other room, beside the 
 handsome curate, Alban Butterley. 
 
 In her reply, her glance, and manner there
 
 252 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 was something that exercised the mind of 
 Stanley. That she had started with a palpable 
 dilation of the eye, and hence displayed* some 
 emotion, however slight, when Mr. Brooke 
 announced his speedy departure, was evident ; 
 that a flush had crossed her cheek when asked 
 to persuade him to stay was evident also, but 
 that might arise from annoyance. There was 
 something of a taunt in terming him a ' roving 
 Englishman,' who knew not where his own 
 happiness lay. 
 
 In all this there was much that, consider- 
 ing their past and that scene in Connaught 
 Terrace, might invite and lead to an ex- 
 planation ; but on that night Stanley did 
 not seek it, and certainly she gave him no 
 opportunity of doing it. as she always con- 
 trived to have a tolerable group of men about 
 her chair. 
 
 He knew not what to think of it ; but 
 after reflecting on the past, and what he had 
 heard from the Hussars incidentally, though 
 it might all be mere mess-room gossip, he felt 
 unalterably fixed to leave Thaneshurst.
 
 UNSTABLE. 253 
 
 Never again would he speak to her on the 
 subject of love ; never again, when his soul 
 seemed to tremble on his lips, utter to her 
 such words as he had once done, to be treated 
 with mockery. But poor Rowland Stanley 
 could little foresee all the morrow was to 
 bring forth.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 
 
 We have said that Stanley changed his mind 
 once again, and it came about in this fashion. 
 
 The 2nd of September proved a day of 
 incessant rain, falling steadily and perpendi- 
 cularly in bucketfuls; even the most enthu- 
 siastic sportsman would not have gone abroad ; 
 the white mist rolled up from the hollow 
 coombs and shrouded the green downs, and 
 the stone gutters of the terrace at Thanes- 
 hurst were gorged with water. The gentle- 
 men betook them to cigars, billiards, loading 
 cartridges, dozing over Punch and the Graphic^ 
 going over the stables, and so forth ; while the 
 ladies amused themselves as best they might, 
 in the final arrangement of their ball-dresses, 
 the selection of suites of jewels, and happy 
 anticipations of the coming festivity. 
 
 So determined was Stanley to leave soon
 
 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 255 
 
 that lie spent part of the forenoon in packing 
 his portmanteaux, that he might start, almost 
 at a moment's notice, after the Hussar ball ; 
 and feeling somewhat more at ease, now that 
 his mind was sternly and resolutely made up, 
 he rambled into the spacious conservatory 
 that he might enjoy a cigar, and the luxury 
 of thinking without interruption ; but there, 
 as the Fates would have it, he came suddenly 
 upon Milly Allingham, seated, in a lounging 
 attitude, upon a little marchioness, so immersed 
 in a book that she did not hear him approach, 
 and he was able for a few seconds to study 
 the exquisite grace of her pose, the contour of 
 her head, neck, and shoulders. She was evi- 
 dently absorbed in what she was reading, for 
 Milly, we have said elsewhere, was an intel- 
 lectual and well-read girl. 
 
 At last she became conscious of who was 
 near her, and closed her book with a smile 
 and a bow. 
 
 ' I fear I have disturbed you — so sorry,' 
 said Stanley ; ' but I came here to smoke and 
 think alone, after — after — '
 
 256 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 'Not knowing what to do with yourself 
 
 all forenoon.' 
 
 'Nay, Miss Allinghani, I have been busy 
 getting my things packed, prior to my depar- 
 ture.' 
 
 ' And/ said she, after a little pause, ' and 
 ife it really true that yesterday you telegraphed 
 to Tattersall about your horses?' 
 'Yes.' 
 
 'Then you don't return to London?' 
 ' Not for many years, probably.' 
 There was again a startled, earnest, and 
 searching expression for a second, but a 
 second only, in the upturned eyes of Milly, 
 and then she said, smiling, 
 
 ' I wdsh you a pleasant journey.' 
 ' Say voyage, rather. Miss Allingham, as I 
 join my regiment by sea. But what book is 
 this you are so intent upon?' 
 
 ' It is a work by Moreri, a very scarce one, 
 which I found in the library, containing an 
 essay on the passion of love ; and he seems to 
 think that love and hate may exist in the 
 same breast for the same person at once.
 
 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 257 
 
 Do you believe in such a paradox, Captain 
 Stanley ?' 
 
 'I do/ said he, and then became silent ; 
 for, in the peculiar relation in which they 
 stood with regard to each other, to discuss 
 this subject was indeed to approach perilous 
 ground, to enter a battery fully mined. Milly 
 evidently felt this, for she avoided his eye ; and 
 then, by a pretty blunder, as if to court the 
 very scene that might ensue, she opened the 
 volume, and said, 
 
 ' The writer here tells us. Captain Stanley, 
 that there is none of all the passions that has 
 employed the thoughts of moralists and philo- 
 sophers, and perhaps of almost every other 
 species of writers, as that of love ; but whether 
 this is an argument of its excellence, he is 
 unable to determine.^ 
 
 ' The best incentive to love is merit,' said 
 Stanley, as he stood irresolutely twirling his 
 moustache, thinking how lovely she was, and 
 that he had perhaps been premature in his 
 packing, ^but I remember to have read that 
 M. St.-Evremond says that true love re- 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 sembled ghosts and apparitions, because every 
 one talked of it, but few or none had ever 
 seen it.' 
 
 Their eyes met for an instant, with a 
 glance there was no mistaking. A rich colour 
 came into Milly's cheek, and a light shone in 
 her dark eye ; the colour passed away ; she 
 became paler than ever; but the joyous light 
 remained ; and she said in her heart, with 
 coquettish triumph, ' He loves me, he loves 
 me still.' Then turning, a little nervously, 
 once more to her book, she said hurriedly, 
 ' There is a terrible story here of the power of 
 love, which I shall tell to you in English.' 
 
 ' Do, please,' said he, leaning over her, so 
 close that his moustache almost touched the 
 coil of her back hair. 
 
 'It is an old, old story, of the 16th 
 century. He tells us that Julietta de Gon- 
 zaga, a lady descended from one of the most 
 noble of Italian families, was so celebrated for 
 her beauty that the fame of it reached even to 
 Constantinople ; and induced Chereddin Bar- 
 barossa. Admiral of Soliman II., and Viceroy
 
 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 259 
 
 of Algiers, to attempt to carry her off, as a 
 present for his master, but failed. For some 
 time — so vain and coquettish was she — she 
 declined the offers of many royal princes. 
 At last she became the bride of Vincent, the 
 Duke of Mantua, who, in time, grew tired of 
 her, and forsook her. Her love now turned 
 to hatred, and she became almost mad with 
 the desire for revenge ; and, confident in the 
 wonderful power of her beauty and attraction 
 of manner, by the assistance of his confessor, 
 she contrived, after a time, to have an inter- 
 view with the recreant duke, whose race ended 
 with Charles IV., during the war of the Spanisli 
 succession. She had left nothing undone or 
 unstudied by which to dazzle and allure him ; 
 and though vengeance rankled in her heart, 
 she reproached him so sweetly and so touch- 
 ingly for his falsehood to her, that the Duke 
 of Mantua felt all his love return in greater 
 force than ever ; and he told her, with the 
 utmost tenderness, that he loved her still, and 
 her only. She affected to doubt this, and to 
 disbelieve all that he might urge, till she re-
 
 260 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 quired of him, as the most terrible proof of 
 iiis love, a solemn denial of God^ which he had 
 3io sooner done, than she planted a dagger in 
 his heart. She then stabbed herself, and died 
 above his body, in a room of the Gonzaga 
 palace at Mantua — still pointed out to the 
 curious.' 
 
 ' People do not go such terrible lengths 
 nowadays, Miss Allingham ; yet love may 
 change, or even turn to positive dislike, under 
 certain influences.' 
 
 ^ The author of Destiny asks, " Whence is 
 it that two persons, who seem to have been 
 born only to hate each other, should, under 
 nny circumstances, actually love each other?" ' 
 
 Love and hate — his own idea a^ain. 
 
 o 
 
 'I do not know; I am no casuist, Miss 
 Allingham,' said he, endeavouring, for a time, 
 to conceal alike the tenderness of his voice 
 and eyes; 'but we seem to have suddenly 
 become involved in a rather curious discus- 
 sion — on the subject of love — a subject which 
 you treated very lightly, and dismissed very 
 summarily, when I had last the — shall I call
 
 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 261 
 
 it pleasure? — of speaking to you on the 
 matter.' 
 
 She did not see his face, and the measured 
 nature of his words piqued her. 
 
 *Ah, you refer to London,' said she, re- 
 linquishing her book for the fan that hung at 
 her girdle, and which she proceeded nervously 
 to open and shut. 'The truth is, Captain 
 Stanley, we were too much together, or rather, 
 I should say, seen too much together, at 
 musical fetes in the Botanical Gardens, the 
 Albert Hall, the opera, and ever so mapy 
 dances.' 
 
 ' Do not say so,' he urged ; but Milly felt 
 the necessity of defending herself when she 
 was not sued, and that necessity roused her 
 pride. ' I would all those past joys were to 
 be done again ; and yet — ' 
 
 ' Perhaps, better not.' 
 
 ' Yes, perhaps,' said he; ' but why?' 
 
 ' People said — I scarcely know how to tell 
 you what they did say — ' she resumed, and 
 then paused, with a coy smile on her down- 
 cast face, while she toyed with a beautiful
 
 262 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 white camellia, which she had selected from 
 the many around her, to wear at the ball. 
 
 ^ Pray tell me.' 
 
 ' Well, from being seen so much together, 
 that — that we were engaged ; and that was 
 such nonsense, you know, Captain Stanley.' 
 
 ^ Would it had not been so!' thought he 
 in his heart, but was silent. Was this singular 
 admission a lure of the coquette, or 2b Jiout? 
 He feared it was the latter, rather than the 
 former. ^ 
 
 He sighed, and said, while standing erect 
 and ceasing to lean over her : 
 
 ^ Miss Allingham, you are to me a species 
 of sphinx, and I am no (Edipus ; but only a 
 very plain and matter-of-fact fellow.' 
 
 ' You mean that I am an enigma ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; you have treated me very ill ; but 
 I shall trouble you no more, as I did when 
 last in London.' 
 
 ' I am not a girl to break my heart for the 
 loss of any man,' said she, fanning herself 
 vigorously, and still resolved to stand on the 
 defensive ; ' but I do think that after all the
 
 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 263 
 
 admiration you expressed for me, you have 
 put a slight upon me for Fanny Conyers/ 
 
 ' Miss Conyers !' 
 
 ' Yes, Captain Stanley.' 
 
 ' How could I put a slight upon you ?' he 
 urged softly ; ' did you not laughingly, mock- 
 ingly treat my earnest declaration to you in 
 London ; and since then, how have you be- 
 haved to me?' he asked, almost in anger, as 
 many little episodes came to memory; and 
 she, though intensely gratified by the turn 
 the conversation was taking, beat the floor 
 with a little foot, too piqued by the trifling 
 attention shown to another to surrender even 
 now. 
 
 'Listen to me. Miss Allingham, Milly,' 
 said Stanley, placing a hand gently on her 
 shoulder, while all his great love for her 
 gushed up in his heart, which forgave her all 
 her coquetry: 'That I love you dearly you 
 know well ; that in you life centres ; that my 
 whole soul is bound up in you. Must all this 
 be said in vain ? Have you no answer for me ?' 
 
 Of all the many who had admired or
 
 264 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 dangled about her, none had ever spoken 
 thus ; yet she was still silent. Either the 
 moment of triumph and victory, so long in 
 coming again, or joy at the avowal of his love 
 — both perhaps — deprived her for a time of 
 the power of speech ; and her soft lids drooped 
 under the passionate earnestness of his hand- 
 some dark eyes; while, misinterpreting her 
 silence, he spoke again, in a voice that was 
 tremulous : 
 
 * Milly, think Avell. I speak on this sub- 
 ject for the last time. '' The marriage ring," 
 says one of the sweetest of our writers, "is 
 not a toy of triumph to be passed from one 
 hand to another. It is the emblem of soul 
 for soul, and heart for heart, for ever, or it is 
 nothing." I ask you, Milly, darling, Avill you 
 be my wife?' 
 
 His great tenderness did indeed move her; 
 but ere she could reply, in his impetuosity he 
 spoke again, with something emphatic in his 
 tone, while fearing that her silence or delay 
 arose from the knowledge that Eeynolds was 
 to be at the Hussar ball.
 
 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 265 
 
 ' My time is short in England now, and if 
 I am ever to be more than a dangling admirer, 
 one too treated somewhat like a fool, I must 
 have some sign of hope in the future from 
 you, or this night we part for ever. Do, dar- 
 ling, learn to know your own mind ere it is 
 too late. You are agitated. Do not answer 
 me now, unless in the affirmative ; but if I am 
 to hope that you have accepted me, wear this 
 whire camellia at the ball to-night in your 
 corsage, and bestow it on me, as on him you 
 acknowledge to love best in the world.' 
 
 Smiling and blushing, with moistened eyes, 
 she gave him a quick glance, that seemed to 
 him one of unutterable tenderness, and plac- 
 ing the camellia in her bosom hurried away; 
 for footsteps were now heard in the con- 
 servatory. 
 
 There was more of romance, a wholly un- 
 thought-of element, in Milly's nature than she 
 would have acknowledged to any one; and 
 she liked this new idea of the camellia very 
 much; while Stanley, though his lips had 
 never touched even her hand, felt so certain
 
 266 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 of her love, from the brilliance of her parting 
 smile, that his heart expanded with pure 
 happiness, and he seemed to tread on air, and 
 felt very much disposed in general to bless 
 the chance that had led him into the con- 
 servatory, and Moreri's work in particular, 
 for all that his story ' anent' love had led to.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 
 
 Stanley did not see Milly after she left him. 
 He was to dine that evening at the Hussar 
 mess, and afterwards join the Thaneshurst 
 party at the ball, which was to be given in the 
 famous Pavilion ; and when reverting to the 
 idea of the camellia she was to wear — it might 
 be not wear — there were times when he 
 thought he was rash to leave the matter thus 
 with her; but that in the conservatory he 
 should have pressed her for a final answer. 
 Then, anon, he deemed it better as it was. 
 
 Never had Stanley enjoyed less a dinner- 
 party or night at mess than this — yet the 
 dinner was, of course, perfection, from the 
 clear soup and sherry to the coffee and mara- 
 schino — his mind was so preoccupied. Lark- 
 spur and some others, who were on the ball 
 committee, had been lunching and .'refresh-
 
 268 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ing' themselves all day, and they canvassed 
 their fair guests in a somewhat free-and-easy 
 manner ; and the major, whose utterance was 
 a little 'feathery/ more than once spoke of 
 Milly Allingham in a jaunty fashion, that 
 roused Stanley's anger highly. He was the 
 more irritated that, owing to some blunder of 
 Larkspur, the vehicle he had ordered was 
 verv late in reachintic the barracks ; and Stan- 
 ley could little foresee all that this delay was 
 subsequently to cost him. 
 
 'Here it is at last,' said he, as a mess- 
 waiter announced it, with others. 'Eleven 
 o'clock ! By Jove, Larkspur, we shall be very 
 late ; you especially, as one of the hosts.' 
 
 He flung himself into the vehicle, and with 
 three of the Hussars drove off to the Pavilion. 
 Never before had Stanley felt such emotion, 
 excitement, joy, and hope about a mere ball, 
 and never did he see so little of a ball as of 
 this one eventually. Never did that expen- 
 sive foible of H.R.H. George, Prince Regent, 
 look more gay than on this occasion. The 
 rain had passed away, the sky was blue and
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 269 
 
 starry, and against it the cupolas, the bulbous- 
 shaped dome of the central fa9ade, and the 
 smaller domes at the wings stood up sharply 
 and darkly defined. From the windows flakes 
 of brilliant light fell on the trees and shrub- 
 bery without, and gay figures were seen flit- 
 ting to and fro. Within and without the 
 edifice seemed instinct with life and sound. 
 Vehicles, many of them stately equipages, 
 were streaming along the garden front, de- 
 positing those invited to the ball, and passing 
 out at the opposite entrance, and the crash of 
 military music announced that the ball had 
 begun, and some way made through the pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 Rowland Stanley had been at too many 
 regimental and garrison balls to be much im- 
 pressed by the military display made by the 
 Hussars on this occasion ; yet, all-preoccupied 
 as he was with thoughts of Milly Allingham, 
 he could not help being struck by the singu- 
 lar aspect of the famous Pavilion and of the 
 rooms set apart for dancing, refreshments, and 
 promenading.
 
 270 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 Ill the vestibule adjoining the western 
 portico there was of course a guard of honour 
 of Hussars on foot, with sword and carbine ; 
 sergeants even posted at all the doors as 
 guides ; there were fountains of perfumed 
 water, bouquets ad libitum^ and the sub-lieu- 
 tenants were in attendance with packs of 
 engagement -cards for the guests, all duly 
 stamped with the Prince of Wales's feathers 
 (the regimental crest). 
 
 The magnificent music-room in the northern 
 wing, with its walls covered with crimson and 
 gold and representations of scenery said to 
 be taken from the neighbourhood of Pekin, 
 was set apart for dancing. And here, of 
 course, were trophies of arms, amid which the 
 guidons and kettle-drums of the regiment 
 occupied a conspicuous place ; and from under 
 the great dome, the swell of which is covered 
 with scale work in what is termed 'green 
 gold,' eight great lustres shed a flood of light 
 upon the dancers. 
 
 Already the room was crowded, yet more 
 guests were pouring in ; the number of uni-
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 271 
 
 forms, the exquisite toilettes, and the great 
 beauty of most of the ladies, made up a scene, 
 in such a place, of wonderful gaiety and brilli- 
 ance. Officers of all corps were there ; guards- 
 men from town, artillery from Woolwich, 
 linesmen from Chatham, Aldershot, ' the Alma 
 Mater of the British militaire^' and a fair 
 sprinkling of naval men too. 
 
 The third quadrille was over as Stanley — 
 who came of course in full uniform — learned 
 from his card, and the Hussar band struck up 
 a waltz by Strauss — Die Fledermans — and 
 amid the whirl of dancers, gyrating like a 
 human zeotrope, he saw Milly flying past 
 with the arm of Val Reynolds round her. 
 She was dressed entirely in white ; a costume 
 so becoming to women whose hair, eyes, and 
 eyelashes are dark. 
 
 In his anxiety to see whether the camellia 
 was in her bosom, he scarcely heeded the 
 circumstance of her dancing with Reynolds. 
 
 ^ How late you are, Stanley,' said Foxley, 
 who was not much of a dancer, and was 
 lounging against Westmacott's famous chim-
 
 272 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ney-piece, with a leering smile in liis shifty 
 eyes, that had a trick of avoiding the glance 
 of others, while affecting that which sat very 
 ill upon him — aristocratic apathy ; ' all the 
 cards must be filled up by this time/ 
 
 ' Miss Allingham promised to keep several 
 dances for me.' 
 
 'Time you saw about them, old fellow; 
 for she has been going the pace with Rey- 
 nolds ever since he came into the room, at 
 least so far as the round dances are concerned.' 
 
 Heedless of this, Stanley made his way 
 through the maze of the room to where they 
 were pausing for a moment, she flushed, 
 breathless, and palpitating, on the strong 
 arm of Reynolds, who was in his Guards 
 uniform, and whispering away to her with 
 great empressement^ she the while fanning her- 
 self, and looking — as Stanley thought — most 
 radiantly beautiful ; but ere he could address 
 her tkey were off again, ' with flying feet,' 
 she waltzing with a wondrous grace and 
 singularly effortless ease; and as they passed 
 him, he heard Reynolds say laughingly,
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 273 
 
 ^ Oh, yes, there are loves and loves, just 
 as there are kisses and kisses/ 
 
 Stanley could distinctly perceive that she 
 had not the white camellia in the front of her 
 corsage, nor in her glorious dark hair, nor 
 anywhere about her dress. He was not 
 accepted by her, but rejected, and she was 
 whirling in the dance without it. Had she 
 lost it? for she could not have forgotten the 
 flower. 
 
 Another moment and he saw it ! Where f 
 
 In Reynolds's button -hole ! How dared 
 she mock him thus? was his first thought. 
 This was some portion of what ' the little 
 birds' have had to talk about. He remem- 
 bered — ay, savagely remembered — that less 
 important affair of the little bouquet, on the 
 night — or morning rather — of the Brooke's 
 ball in Park Lane. It was but a trifle ; yet 
 it and other 'trifles, light as air,' now made 
 a tremendous storm in the breast of Rowland 
 Stanley, and he drew back towards the door 
 amid a group of officers who were lingering 
 there. 
 
 VOL. L T
 
 274 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 Milly and her partner paused again, and 
 her eyes certainly swept the room, as if in 
 search of some one. Suddenly they fell on 
 Stanley, and seemed to sparkle anew with 
 pleasure, as she made a wave with her fan 
 towards him ; but he simply bowed, and 
 turned away. There was a haggard expres- 
 sion of sorrow and reproach in his handsome 
 eyes, that was fated to haunt her for long, 
 loDg after, when it was all too late to repair 
 the mischief done. 
 
 The flower, the gift which she was to be- 
 stow, as an emblem to him whom she loved 
 best in the world, was now openly bestowed 
 on another. He retired from the room. 
 His sense of mortification, disappointment, 
 wounded self-esteem, and rage at being so 
 befooled was intense. The last element en- 
 abled him, perhaps, to support the others 
 better. She had purposed and prepared, with 
 coquettish malice aforethought, this coup^ to 
 shov/ how little she cared for him, for his pas- 
 sion, or the avowal of it. Had any lover ever been 
 so cruelly and deliberately insulted before ?
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 275 
 
 A deadly sickness of the heart mingled 
 with his anger ; and from the past he turned 
 away with unavailing regret. Rude though 
 it might be, he would return to Thaneshurst 
 no more. He should never have gone there 
 at all. ^ Ass, dolt, idiot !' were the smallest 
 epithets he applied to himself. Thaneshurst ! 
 he would loathe the recollection of it. Brigh- 
 ton, too, was hateful to him; for there his 
 life had been blighted and his love ridiculed ; 
 but in a few hours the early train and he 
 should have left it far behind. 
 
 He would leave Eno-land, and never aofain 
 look upon the fair false girl who had so be- 
 fooled him. 
 
 Like one who was stunned or in a dream, 
 and with the distant music of the band still 
 ringing in his ears, he made his way into the 
 yellow drawing-room, which had been set 
 apart for refreshments; and then, draining a 
 great goblet of iced champagne, began to con- 
 sider his movements anew : not that his mind 
 in the least wavered from his fixed plan to 
 leave Brighton without delay, with a brief
 
 276 BID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 note to Mr. Brooke, though the old gentleman 
 was at the ball (which he deemed a dreadful 
 bore, but endured for Mabel's sake). And 
 Mrs. Brooke, too, among the other matrons 
 and chaperones of the county, was in all her 
 glory ; and so many men of rank, and even 
 better position than Badenoch, were present, 
 and had inscribed their names on Mabel's en- 
 gagement-card, that, for the nonce, her ma- 
 ternal brain was somewhat distracted. ' How 
 loud the old party looks in her purple moire !' 
 was the imgallant remark of the Master of 
 Badenoch to some of his friends. 
 
 In his fury and anger the unfortunate 
 Stanley felt disposed for more iced champagne 
 than he usually imbibed ; and while having 
 it, and waiting till a vehicle was procured for 
 him, he w^as compelled to listen to some of the 
 remarks of those about — remarks which rather 
 added fuel to the flame of his anger. 
 
 ^What, not dancing — you^ Stanley?' said 
 one of the Hussars. 
 
 ^ Ah, why have you left the room already T 
 added Larkspur, who came forward with Foxley.
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. '277 
 
 ' For the same reason, perhaps, that you 
 have done so, major,' replied Stanley. 
 
 'Thirsty, deuced thirsty; and I can't get 
 one turn with la belle AUingham.' 
 
 'Why, major?' 
 
 ' Her card is filled up already, she says ; 
 yet I could have sworn I saw vacant places 
 on it. But no one ever has a chance with 
 her, don't you know, when Reynolds is near.' 
 
 Larkspur twisted his moustache angrily, 
 and drained another goblet of champagne, 
 of which he had already taken more than 
 enough. 
 
 ' I'll cut out Yal yet ; propose to the girl, 
 and all that sort of thing,' resumed Larkspur, 
 whose utterance was becoming thick; 'but I 
 must think and smoke over it first. No, no. 
 Larkspur, my boy ; you can't afibrd to chuck 
 yourself away. What do you say, Foxley — 
 do you think if I asked her to be Mrs. Lark- 
 spur, she would say no ?' 
 
 But the other did not condescend to reply. 
 He was sulky. Tom Seymour was not there, 
 at all events; and he could neither dance
 
 278 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 with, nor dangle about, Mabel. But Alf was 
 little or no dancer ; and she was absorbed by 
 others. He felt that he could, more than ever, 
 be easily dispensed with ; hence he became 
 more moody as the night wore on. Mabel he 
 looked upon as his own special property ; ' and 
 no end of other fellows' had swept her away. 
 
 At last Stanley quitted the yellow draw- 
 ing-room. Foxley thought he had returned 
 to the dancers; but he had quitted the Pa- 
 vilion, and driven away. Thus, when Rey- 
 nolds came, a few minutes after, in search of 
 him, he was nowhere to be found. 
 
 Had he chosen to remain and show indif- 
 ference — that emotion so difficult to feign 
 when one feels but love — he would have 
 found no difficulty in procuring any number 
 of brilliant partners. He was always sure of 
 good introductions; and moreover, Stanley, 
 if a little less fashionable-looking than Rey- 
 nolds, had more the bearing of a soldier and 
 a man — he carried his head so well ; and his 
 hands, though white and square, were well 
 formed and muscular. Moreover, he had
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 279 
 
 upon his breast the Y.C., for an act of valour 
 in the expedition to Bhotan ; whereas all 
 Reynolds's campaigns had been in the vicinity 
 of Windsor or Wormwood Scrubs and the 
 Long Valley. 
 
 And now to explain the mystery of the 
 white camellia, and how Milly Allingham was 
 not, in reality, the heartless coquette she ap- 
 peared to be. How little could Stanley have 
 supposed that, at the very moment he gave 
 her that almost stern glance of sorrow and 
 reproach which so greatly perplexed and be- 
 wildered her, Milly, on looking down, sud- 
 denly missed the camellia from the front of 
 her dress ! 
 
 In dancing, it had fallen from her bosom 
 unseen • but Reynolds had adroitly picked it 
 up, and placed it, all unknown to her — as she 
 was perpetually looking about for Stanley, 
 and had, as Larkspur asserted, many vacant 
 places on her card reserved for him — in a 
 buttonhole of his coat. 
 
 ' My camellia !' she exclaimed, as the flush 
 incidental to the waltz passed away, and she
 
 280 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 became very pale indeed. ' Oh, please restore 
 it to me, Captain Reynolds !' 
 
 'It should have been a scarlet one for a 
 white dress, Miss Allingham,' said he ; ' but 
 do permit me to retain it, in memory of to- 
 night, and of the belle of the Hussar ball.' 
 
 ' No, no ; do please give it me,' said she, 
 so impetuously, as she held forth a tremulous 
 hand, that Reynolds gave her back the camel- 
 lia. But as, with quick and impatient fingers, 
 she was endeavouring to replace it in the 
 corsage of her dress, it dropped to pieces ; and 
 the white petals of the fatal flower fell on 
 the well-waxed floor. 
 
 Alarmed by all this, for she had really 
 meant to do all that Stanley wished her, she 
 now complained of being weary, and requested 
 to be led to the side of her chaperon e, Mrs. 
 Brooke. She then asked Reynolds to look 
 for Rowland Stanley. The tall Guardsman 
 good-naturedly obeyed her; but soon returned 
 to say that he had left the Pavilion, none knew 
 how or why. 
 
 Well did Milly know why. Her heart was
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 281 
 
 wrung with genuine sorrow, perplexity, and 
 alarm, for she really loved Stanley now, with 
 all the passion of which she was capable. To- 
 morrow, on the first moment she could find 
 available, or when he asked for an explana- 
 tion — if his pride and love would permit him 
 — she should explain the whole afi'air. To 
 this she felt Stanley was every way entitled. 
 But a sense of dread hung over her ; and 
 though she danced every dance that was in 
 the programme, she did so mechanically, arid 
 without the least sense of enjoyment. She 
 had an emotion of oppression, rather, and 
 heard with intense annoyance the wonder 
 Mrs. Brooke expressed, from time to time, at 
 the absence of Captain Stanley, whom all sup- 
 posed to have been taken seriously unwell. 
 Too true it is that many an unseen, unspoken, 
 unwritten romance, many a moment of morti- 
 fication and misery or of triumph and joy, 
 may be acted amid such scenes of gaiety as 
 that ball, which Milly and Stanley were fated 
 long to remember. 
 
 At last the rooms began to empty, and the
 
 282 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 successive rolling of carriage- wheels under the 
 domed entrance that leads to Castle Square 
 announced the departure of guests. 
 
 ' How tired I am of all this, Milly, and of 
 these heavy dandies, and of their got-by-rote 
 gallant speeches, with awful pauses between!' 
 said Mabel, as their party passed outward by 
 the vestibule ; ' and how often I have wished 
 that Tom were here with us !' she added in a 
 lower voice. 
 
 Both girls had long been weary and anx- 
 ious to go ; but not so ' Mamma Brooke, Ma- 
 dame le Nouveau Riche,' as Larkspur was in 
 the habit of impertinently calling her at mess. 
 She had been thoroughly enjoying herself. 
 She had not the — to her — incubus of Tom 
 Seymour's presence to compete with those 
 who filled Mabel's card with their names, and 
 claimed her hand for every waltz; men, like 
 Larkspur, who had ' won their spurs,' and 
 others, like Reynolds and young Badenoch, 
 who had upon their macassared heads the 
 reflected glory of as many generations as any 
 one else of course, but bearing rank and title.
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 283 
 
 At length they, the Thaneshurst party, 
 were all in their carriages, and bowling home- 
 ward by the Lewes road, in the darkness of 
 the early morning ; and Milly, reclining, 
 shawled, in a corner, was very silent; while 
 ever and anon she repeated to herself, 'in a 
 very few hours now he shall know all.' 
 
 But as they drove down the avenue to 
 Thaneshurst, she remarked, with something 
 of foreboding, that the room occupied usually 
 by Stanley was involved in darkness. • 
 
 Mr. Mulbery rang the breakfast-bell some- 
 what later than usual on the morning after 
 the ball, and all the party assembled, save 
 Stanley. Unwearied by the late hours, the 
 heat, and the exertion of such continued 
 dancing, the four girls looked unusually fresh, 
 bright, and animated; and the ball was being 
 discussed in all its phases and features, with 
 countless bits of airy gossip, recollections of 
 tender and gallant tomfooleries, of hand-press- 
 ing and shawling; while Mr. Brooke, who 
 was sick of the subject, and Tom were anxious
 
 284 DID SHE LOVE HIM? 
 
 to have a look at the morning papers, which 
 the butler had duly cut and aired for them. 
 
 On this morning Milly wore a robe of pink 
 cachmere and quilted satin. Her pale loveli- 
 ness was now all the paler, in consequence of 
 her own thoughts ; but the colour became her 
 so well. Could Stanley but have seen her 
 then! 
 
 Ever and anon surprise was expressed at 
 his sudden disappearance from the dancing- 
 room. Fanny Conyers felt somewhat indig- 
 nant with him, as in his preoccupation of 
 thought he had passed her twice unnoticed in 
 the ball-room; but Fanny, so petite and spi- 
 rituelle — ' Dimples,' as they named her — nath- 
 less her too apparent fancy for the absent 
 one, had ' danced and flirted,' as Foxley said, 
 ' with some three or four fellows to any extent 
 and with great espieglerie^^ yet she felt piqued, 
 for Stanley had never once asked for a sight 
 of her engagement-card. 
 
 ' Letter for you, sir,' said Mulbery, pre- 
 senting one to Mr. Brooke upon a salver; 
 * just come by the morning post, sir.'
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 285 
 
 The old gentleman adjusted his gold spec- 
 tacles on his nose, and on opening the missive, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 ^God bless me, how singular! Why, 
 Martha dear, we have lost Captain Stanley !' 
 
 ^Lost him, John?' said the old lady, paus- 
 ing over her coffee, while her daughter and 
 Milly exchanged quick glances of intelligence, 
 for the two friends were quite in each other s 
 confidence. 
 
 ' He is off to join his regiment in the West 
 Indies — some sudden order, I suppose; and a 
 man seems to have come from Brighton for 
 his luggage last night. He says some rows 
 are expected among the Maroons. He sails 
 from Southampton in the Queen of Britain. 
 "Pray excuse me," he adds; "and with best 
 wishes to all your family circle, believe me," 
 &c. The Maroons ! who or what are they ? 
 
 ' They are some kind of savages in Jamaica, 
 the descendants of the Spaniards and negroes,^ 
 said Miss Araminta Conyers, who was fresh 
 from school. 
 
 ^ The Queen of Britain !' said Milly Ailing-
 
 286 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 ham almost mechanically to herself; ^ I thought 
 his regiment was in Bermuda.' 
 
 ' This departure seems surely very un- 
 ceremonious, Martha dear,' said Mr. Brooke. 
 
 'Ah, but young men are not what they 
 were in my days, John.' 
 
 Mr. Brooke smiled brightly at the implied 
 compliment to himself; but it was soon pretty 
 apparent to all that Milly Allingham was 
 sorely distraite^ and her eyes wore a sad, 
 dreamy, and pensive expression she would not 
 have been inclined to admit. 
 
 Yet this was often their state when their 
 long and beautiful dark lashes were cast 
 down, though when animated their concen- 
 trated expressional power was very great, for 
 hers were eyes which, as some one says, 
 ' would either see too much or tell too much, 
 unless they were under some remarkable con- 
 trol.' 
 
 The ball was over; it had ended thus un- 
 to wardly for him and for her: and this had 
 been the ' midsummer-night's dream' to which 
 both had looked forward the preceding day,
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 287 
 
 after that sunset confabulation in the con- 
 servatory. 
 
 How suddenly, after all the brilliance of 
 last night, a pall, a cloud-curtain, had fallen 
 between them, ^ it might be for years, it might 
 be for ever' ! Too probably the last. 
 
 ^I had too much champagne, no doubt of 
 it,' whispered Alf to Seymour; 'but for all 
 that I can't help thinking that your friend 
 caved in somehow, and left the Household 
 Brigade in full possession of the field. Per* 
 haps it was a case of " how happy could T be 
 with either." and all that sort of thino:.' 
 
 It was not often that ' cousin Alf was in 
 the habit of whispering to Tom (but he found 
 the impossibility of repressing a sneer), and 
 the latter eyed him in rather grim silence, 
 but vouchsafed no reply, and merely thought 
 'how seedy' his rival looked after last night 
 at the Pavilion. 
 
 Breakfast over, Milly complained of feel- 
 ing ill ; there must certainly be thunder in the 
 air; so she retired to her room, accompanied 
 by the gentle and smypathetic Mabel, who
 
 288 DID SHE LOVE HIM ? 
 
 loved her so; 'and/ says Lockhart truly, 
 
 ' what a goodly thing is a beautiful girl's love 
 
 for another girl !' 
 
 'He has gone, Mab darling,' said she, 
 
 sobbing, with her face on her friend's shoulder, 
 
 — 'gone with the conviction that he has been 
 
 tricked and fooled bv a hollow-hearted crea- 
 
 •I 
 
 ture, and you know that I am not so. He 
 can never be undeceived now. And, Mab, 
 I had ever so many vacant places on my card 
 kept specially for him, that we might have 
 some nice long dances together ; and so I had 
 to tell fibs to ever so many tiresome men !' 
 
 Oh, could she but hear his voice once 
 again, and feel the touch of his hand, or see 
 his gaze bent lovingly, eagerly, and tenderly 
 on her, how different now would be her tone 
 and bearing from what they had been in the 
 silly evil past time ! 
 
 The man with whose love she had trifled, 
 while it was actually shedding a nameless 
 charm over her existence, and whose presence 
 had given a rosy colouring to the merest 
 events of every-day life, was now lost to her ;
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 289 
 
 SO the passion, real, terrible, and deep, the 
 love so long deferred and so long coquetted 
 with, had taken possession of Milly's heart 
 when too late. 
 
 Too late, for now he was gone for ever ! 
 
 Even could she explain now, he could not 
 return for a week without exciting speculation. 
 The die was cast, and in his mind she must 
 ever be viewed through a medium so unlady- 
 like in bearing, so heartless and insulting, that 
 her heart was torn and her pride revolted at 
 the contemplation of it. 
 
 Yal Reynolds could little know the evil 
 influence he had in the aifairs of these two, 
 and no doubt would have choked with laugh- 
 ter, and made the Guards' Club ring with the 
 story of how he had scared Stanley off to the 
 West Indies, by interfering with ' a boshy 
 school-girl crotchet of Milly Allingham about 
 a camellia. Don't you know — by Jove ! ho, 
 ho! — Stanley's not a cavalry-man, but only 
 in the Feet^ don't you know ?' 
 
 In her sudden revulsion of feeling and 
 emotion of genuine shame she almost loathed 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 DID SHE LOVE IIIM ? 
 
 poor Keynolds, whose gallantry in picking up 
 and wearing her white camellia with such 
 empressement had been the cause of all this 
 pain to her and Stanley. 
 
 ^ Poor Rowland !' she loved to repeat 
 again and again in varying cadence ; then 
 she would cover her sweet face with her 
 lovely hands and fall once more thinking. 
 But no line of action was left to her now, and, 
 as if to add to the poignancy of her regret, she 
 heard in the drawing-room Fanny Conyers 
 tinkling on the piano and singing, 
 
 * He thinks I do not love liim.' 
 
 How terribly pathetic it seemed to her now ! 
 
 * He thinks I do not love liim, 
 
 He believes each, word I said ; 
 And he sailed away in sorrow 
 
 Ere the sun had left his bed. 
 I'd have told the truth this morning, 
 
 But the sliip is out of sight ; 
 Oh, I wish these waves would bring him 
 
 Where we parted yesternight !' 
 
 Though little Fanny's execution was some- 
 what inferior to Madame Sain ton-Dolby's,
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 291 
 
 every word sunk deeply into the reproachful 
 heart of Millv. 
 
 To ease the agony of her friend's spirit^ 
 Mabel made Tom Seymour telegraph an ex- 
 planatory message to Stanley, addressed to the 
 ship at Southampton. A reply came back 
 about noon. The Queen had quitted the tidal 
 dock early that morning, and was now bear- 
 ing down Channel. 
 
 Sailed! The brief telegram came to Millys 
 heart like a sentence of death; for none suf- 
 fers so much from the passion of love as a 
 coquette when attacked by it. Gone, to re- 
 turn no more — to her at least. Strangely and 
 capriciously as she had treated him, the know- 
 ledge that Stanley loved her, would propose 
 again, and be accepted by her with all his 
 tender, delicate, and elegantly-done attentions^ 
 which, though so unobtrusive that none save 
 herself actually knew of them, had rendered 
 him necessary to her as a part of herself and 
 of her daily existence. But now all was over 
 between them, and henceforth their paths in 
 life would be lonely and far, far apart.
 
 292 DID SHE LOVE IIIM ? 
 
 The evening post brought a brief farewell 
 letter to Tom, written by Stanley after a night 
 that had been sleepless, save ^ a few moments 
 of semi-delirious unconsciousness, a very tra- 
 vesty of Nature's sweet restorer.' 
 
 ^ I implored of her that the flower might 
 be her gift to the man she loved best in the 
 worldj^ ran the note ; ^ and behold, Tom, it 
 was in the breast of Yal Keynolds, Thus did 
 she mock and insult me, after all!' He added 
 that his nags were already at Tattersall's ; his 
 uniform, &c. were with him. Other things 
 he had elsewhere could be sent after him or 
 to the depot. He was decidedly in light 
 marching order and a desperate mood of 
 mind. 
 
 Tom felt intensely grieved by his friend's 
 resolution ; but, all things considered, it did 
 not surprise him. He knew the pangs of 
 doubt and fear he had himself endured, but 
 he should miss him sorely; for Tom wa& 
 proud of having such a friend and companion 
 as Rowland Stanley. 
 
 And so the long and dreary day — a day
 
 THE HUSSAR BALL. 293 
 
 that seemed twelve months in length — passed 
 away. Night and silence came at last, and 
 Milly sobbed herself to sleep, with Stanley's 
 brief letter under her pillow. 
 
 END OP VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 KOBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF >LUNOI9-yRBANA 
 
 3 0112 046409642 
 
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