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A LAODICEAN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CASTLE OF THE DE STANCYS. 
 
A LAODICEAN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CASTLE OF THE DE STANCYS. 
 
 A STORY OF TO-DAY. 
 
 THOMAS HARDY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD," "a PAIR OF BLUE EYES," ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON, 
 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, i88, FLEET STREET. 
 
 i88i. 
 
 {All rights rcse}-vcd.) 
 
LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. 
 

 BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 GEORGE SOMERSET. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
A LAODICEAN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CASTLE OF THE DE STANCYS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The sun blazed down and down, till it was 
 within half an hour of its setting; but the 
 sketcher still lingered at his occupation of 
 measuring and copying the chevroned door- 
 way — a bold and quaint example of a transi- 
 tional style of architecture, which formed the 
 tower entrance to an English village church. 
 The graveyard being quite open on its 
 western side, the tweed-clad figure of the 
 young man, and the tall mass of antique 
 masonry which rose above him to a battle- 
 mented parapet, were fired to a great bright- 
 
4 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ness by the uninterrupted solar rays, that 
 crossed the neighbouring mead Hke a warp 
 of gold threads, in whose mazes groups of 
 equally lustrous gnats danced and wailed 
 incessantly. 
 
 He was so absorbed in his pursuit that he 
 did not mark the brilliant chromatic effect of 
 which he composed the central feature, till it 
 was brought home to his intelligence by the 
 warmth of the moulded stonework under his 
 touch when measuring ; which led him at 
 length to turn his head and gaze on its 
 cause. 
 
 There are few in whom the sight of a sun- 
 set does not beget as much meditative 
 melancholy as contemplative pleasure, the 
 human decline and death that it illustrates 
 being too obvious to escape the notice of the 
 simplest observer. The sketcher, as if he had 
 been brought to this reflection many hundreds 
 of times before by the same spectacle, showed 
 that he did not wish to pursue it just now by 
 turning away his face after a few moments, to 
 resume his architectural studies. 
 
 He took his measurements carefully, and 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 5 
 
 as if he reverenced the old workers whose 
 trick he was endeavouring to acquire six 
 hundred years after the original performance 
 had ceased and the performers passed into 
 the unseen. By means of a strip of lead 
 called a leaden tape, which he pressed around 
 and into the fillets and hollows with his 
 finger and thumb, he transferred the exact 
 contour of each moulding to his drawing, that 
 lay on a sketching-stool a few feet distant ; 
 where were also a sketching-block, a small 
 T-square, a bow-pencil, and other mathe- 
 matical instruments. When he had marked 
 down the line thus fixed, he returned to the 
 doorway to copy another as before. 
 
 It being the month of August, when the 
 pale face of the townsman and stranger is to 
 be seen among the brown skins of remotest 
 uplanders, not only in England, but through- 
 out the temperate zone, few of the homeward- 
 bound labourers paused to notice him further 
 than by a momentary turn of the head. 
 They had beheld such gentlemen before, not 
 exactly measuring the church so accurately as 
 this one seemed to be doing, but painting it 
 
6 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 from a distance, or at least walking round the 
 mouldy pile. At the same time the present 
 visitor, even exteriorly, was not altogether 
 commonplace. His features were good, his 
 eyes of the dark deep sort called eloquent by 
 the sex that ought to know, and with that 
 ray of light in them which announces a heart 
 susceptible to beauty of all kinds, — in woman, 
 in art, and in inanimate nature. Though he 
 would have been broadly characterised as a 
 young man, his face bore contradictory testi- 
 monies to his precise age. This was con- 
 ceivably owing to a too dominant speculative 
 activity in him, which, while it had preserved 
 the emotional side of his constitution, and 
 with it the significant flexuousness of mouth 
 and chin, had played upon his forehead and 
 temples till, at weary moments, they exhibited 
 some traces of being over-exercised. A 
 youthfulness about the mobile features, a 
 mature forehead — though not exactly what 
 the world has been familiar with in past ages 
 — is now growing common ; and with the 
 advance of juvenile introspection it probably 
 must grow commoner still. Briefly, he had 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 7 
 
 more of the beauty — if beauty it ought to be 
 called — of the future human type than of the 
 past ; but not so much as to make him other 
 than a nice young man. 
 
 His build was somewhat slender and tall ; 
 his complexion, though a little browned by 
 recent exposure, was that of a man who 
 spent much of his time indoors. Of beard 
 he had but small show, though he was as 
 innocent as a Nazarite of the use of the 
 razor ; but he possessed a moustache all- 
 sufficient to hide the subtleties of his mouth, 
 which could thus be tremulous at tender 
 moments without provoking inconvenient 
 criticism. 
 
 Owing to his situation on high ground, 
 open to the west, he remained enveloped in 
 the lingering aureate haze till a time when 
 the eastern part of the churchyard was in 
 obscurity, and damp with rising dew. When 
 it was too dark to sketch further he packed 
 up his drawing, and, beckoning to a lad who 
 had been idling by the gate, directed him to 
 carry the stool and implements to a road- 
 side inn which he named, lying a mile or two 
 
8 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ahead. The draughtsman leisurely followed 
 the lad out of the churchyard, and along a 
 lane in the direction signified. 
 
 The spectacle of a summer traveller from 
 London sketching mediaeval details in these 
 neo-Pagan days, when a lull has come over 
 the study of Engish Gothic architecture, 
 through a re-awakening to the art-forms of 
 times that more nearly neighbour our own, is 
 accounted for by the fact that George Somer- 
 set, son of the Academician of that name, was 
 a man of independent tastes and excursive 
 instincts, who unconsciously, and perhaps un- 
 happily, took greater pleasure in floating in 
 lonely currents of thought than with the 
 general tide of opinion. When quite a lad, 
 in the days of the French Gothic mania which 
 immediately succeeded to the great English- 
 pointed revival under Britton, Pugin, Rick- 
 man, Scott, and other medievalists, he had 
 crept away from the fashion to admire what 
 was good in Palladian and Renaissance. As 
 soon as Jacobean, Queen-Anne, and kindred 
 accretions of decayed styles began to be 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 9 
 
 popular, he purchased such old-school works 
 as Revett and Stuart, Chambers, and the rest, 
 and worked diligently at the Five Orders ; 
 till quite bewildered on the question of style, 
 he concluded that all styles were extinct, and 
 with them all architecture as a living art. 
 Somerset was not old enough at that time to 
 know that, in practice, art had at all times 
 been as full of shifts and compromises as 
 every other mundane thing ; that Ideal per- 
 fection was never achieved by Greek, Goth, 
 or Hebrew Jew, and never would be ; and 
 thus he was thrown Into a mood of disgust 
 with his profession, from which mood he was 
 only delivered by recklessly abandoning these 
 studies and indulging In an old enthusiasm for 
 poetical literature. For two whole years he 
 did nothing but avoid his barber and write 
 verse in every conceivable metre except an 
 original one, and on every conceivable sub- 
 ject, from Words worthian sonnets on the 
 singing of his tea-kettle to epic fragments on 
 the Fall of Empires. His discovery at the 
 age of five-and-twenty that these Inspired 
 works were not jumped at by the publishers 
 
lO A LAODICEAN. 
 
 with all the eagerness they deserved, coincided 
 in point of time with a severe hint from his 
 father that unless he went on with his legiti- 
 mate profession he might have to look else- 
 where than at home for an allowance. Mr. 
 Somerset junior then awoke to realities, 
 became intently practical, rushed back to his 
 dusty drawing-boards, and worked up the 
 styles anew, with a view of regularly starting 
 in practice on the first day of the following 
 January. 
 
 It is an old story, and perhaps only deserves 
 the light tone in which the soaring of a young 
 man into the empyrean, and his descent again, 
 is always narrated. But as has often been 
 said, the light and the truth may be on the 
 side of the dreamer : a far wider view than 
 the wise ones have may be his at that recal- 
 citrant time, and his reduction to common 
 measure be nothing less than a tragic event. 
 The operation called lunging, in which a colt 
 having a rope attached to its head is made to 
 trot round and round a horsebreaker with the 
 other end of the rope in his hand, till it makes 
 the beholder dizzy to look at them, is a very 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. II 
 
 unhappy one for the animal concerned. 
 During its progress the colt springs upward, 
 across the circle, stops still, flies over the turf 
 with the velocity of a bird, and indulges in 
 all sorts of graceful antics; but he always 
 ends in one way — thanks to the knotted 
 whipcord — in a level trot round the lunger 
 with the regularity of a horizontal wheel, and 
 in the loss for ever to his character of the 
 bold contours which the fine hand of Nature 
 gave it. Yet the process is considered to be 
 the making of him. 
 
 Whether Somerset became permanently 
 made under the action of the Inevitable lunge, 
 or whether he lapsed into mere dabbling 
 with the artistic side of his profession only, 
 it is premature to say ; but at any rate it 
 was the impetus of his contrite return to 
 architecture as a calling that sent him on 
 the sketching excursion under notice. Feel- 
 ing that something still was wanting to round 
 off his knowledge before he could take his 
 professional line with confidence, he was led 
 to remember that his own native Gothic was 
 the one form of design that he had totally 
 
12 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 neglected from the beginning, through its 
 having greeted him with wearisome iteration 
 at the opening of his career. Now it had 
 again returned to silence ; indeed — such is 
 the surprising instability of art " principles " 
 as they are facetiously called — it was just as 
 likely as not to sink into the neglect and 
 oblivion which had been its lot in Georgian 
 times. This accident of being out of vogue 
 lent English Gothic an additional charm to 
 one of his proclivities ; and away he went 
 to make it the business of a summer circuit 
 in the west. 
 
 The quiet time of evening, the secluded 
 neighbourhood, the unusually gorgeous liveries 
 of the clouds lying packed in a pile over that 
 quarter of the heavens in which the sun had 
 disappeared, were such as to make a traveller 
 loiter on his walk. Coming to a stile, 
 Somerset mounted himself on the top bar, 
 to imbibe the spirit of the scene and hour. 
 The evening was so still that every trifling 
 sound could be heard for miles. There was 
 the rattle of a returning waggon, mixed with 
 the smacks of the waggoner's whip : the 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 3 
 
 team must have been at least three miles 
 off. From far over the hill came the faint 
 periodic yell of kennelled hounds ; while from 
 the nearest village resounded the voices of 
 boys at play in the twilight. Then a power- 
 ful clock struck the hour ; It was not from 
 the direction of the church, but rather from 
 the wood behind him ; and he thought it 
 must be the clock of some mansion that way. 
 But the mind of man cannot always be 
 forced to take up subjects by the pressure 
 of their material presence, and Somerset's 
 thoughts were often, to his great loss, apt to 
 be even more than common truants from the 
 tones and Images that met his outer senses 
 on walks and rides. He would sometimes 
 go quietly through the queerest, gayest, most 
 extraordinary town In Europe, and let It 
 alone, provided it did not meddle with him 
 by its beggars, beauties, innkeepers, police, 
 coachmen, mongrels, bad smells, and such 
 like obstructions. This feat of questionable 
 utility he began performing now. Sitting on 
 the three-inch ash rail that had been peeled 
 and polished like glass by the rubbings of 
 
14 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 all the small-clothes in the parish, he forgot 
 the time, the place, forgot that it was August 
 — in short, everything of the present alto- 
 gether. His mind flew back to his past life, 
 and deplored the waste of time that had 
 resulted from his not havinof been able to 
 make up his mind which of the many fashions 
 of art that were coming and going in kaleido- 
 scopic change was the true point of departure 
 for himself He had suffered from the 
 modern malady of unlimited appreciatlveness 
 as much as any living man of his own age. 
 Dozens of his fellows in years and experi- 
 ences, who had never thought specially of 
 the matter, but had blunderingly applied 
 themselves to whatever form of art con- 
 fronted them at the moment of their making 
 a move, were by this time acquiring renown 
 as new lights ; while he was still unknown. 
 He wished that some accident could have 
 hemmed in his eyes between inexorable 
 blinkers, and sped him on in a channel ever 
 so worn. 
 
 Thus balanced between believing and not 
 believing in his own future, till the poise 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 5 
 
 became so delicate that a bubble of opinion 
 turned either scale, he was recalled to the 
 scene without by hearing the notes of a 
 solemn familiar hymn, rising in subdued 
 harmonies from an unexplored valley below. 
 He listened more heedfully. It w^as his old 
 friend the '' New Sabbath," which he had 
 never once heard since the lisping days of 
 childhood, and whose existence, much as it 
 had then been to him, he had till this mo- 
 ment quite forgotten. Where the " New 
 Sabbath " had kept Itself all these years — 
 why that sound and hearty melody had disap- 
 peared from all the cathedrals, parish churches, 
 minsters, and chapels-of-ease that he had 
 been acquainted with during his apprentice- 
 ship to life, and until his ways had become 
 irregular and uncongregational — he could 
 not, at first, say. But then he recollected 
 that the tune appertained to the old west- 
 gallery period of church-music, anterior to 
 the great choral reformation and the rule of 
 Monk — that old time when the repetition 
 of a word, or half-line of a verse, Avas not 
 considered a disgrace to an episcopal choir. 
 
1 6 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Willing to be interested in anything which 
 would keep him out-of-doors, Somerset dis- 
 mounted from the stile and descended the 
 hill before him, to learn whence the singing 
 proceeded. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 He found that it had Its origin In a building 
 standing alone in a field ; and though the 
 evening was not yet dark without, lights 
 shone from the windows. In a few moments 
 Somerset stood before the edifice. Being 
 just then en rapport with ecclesiastlcism by 
 reason of his recent occupation, he could not 
 help murmuring, *' Shade of Pugin, what a 
 monstrosity ! " 
 
 Perhaps this exclamation (being one rather 
 out of date since the discovery that Pugin 
 himself often nodded to an amazing extent) 
 would not have been indulged in by Somer- 
 set but for his new architectural resolves, 
 which caused professional opinions to offici- 
 ously advance themselves to his lips when- 
 ever occasion offered. The building was, In 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
1 8 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 short, a recently-erected chapel of red brick, 
 with pseudo-classic ornamentation, and the 
 white regular joints of mortar could be seen 
 streaking its surface in geometrical oppres- 
 siveness from top to bottom. The roof was 
 of blue slate, clean as a table, and unbroken 
 from gable to gable ; the windows were 
 glazed with sheets of plate glass, a temporary- 
 iron stove-pipe passing out near one of these, 
 and running up to the height of the ridge, 
 where it was finished by a covering like a 
 parachute. Walking round to the end, he 
 perceived an oblong white stone let into the 
 wall just above the plinth, on which was 
 inscribed in block letter : 
 
 ERECTED 187—, at the sole expense of JOHN 
 POWER, ESQ., M.P. 
 
 The '' New Sabbath " still proceeded line 
 by line, with all the emotional swells and 
 cadences that had of old characterised the 
 tune ; and the body of vocal harmony that 
 it evoked implied a large congregation within, 
 to whom it was plainly as familiar as it had 
 been to church-goers of a past generation. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I9 
 
 With a whimsical sense of regret at the 
 secession of his once favourite air Somerset 
 moved away, and would have quite with- 
 drawn from the field had he not at that 
 moment observed two young men with 
 pitchers of water coming up from a stream 
 hard by, and hastening with their burdens 
 into the chapel vestry by a side door. Almost 
 as soon as they had entered they emerged 
 again with empty pitchers, and proceeded to 
 the stream to fill them as before, an opera- 
 tion which they repeated several times. 
 Somerset went forward to the stream, and 
 waited till the young men came out again. 
 
 "You are carrying in a great deal of 
 water," he said, as each dipped his pitcher. 
 
 One of the young men modestly replied, 
 ** Yes : we filled the cistern this morning ; but 
 it leaks, and requires a few pitcherfuls more." 
 
 " Why do you do it ? " 
 
 " There is to be a baptism, sir." 
 
 Somerset was not at the moment suffi- 
 ciently interested to develop a further con- 
 versation, and observing them in silence till 
 they had again vanished into the building. 
 
20 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 he went on his way. Reaching the brow 
 of the hill he stopped and looked back. The 
 chapel was still in view, and the shades of 
 night having deepened, the lights shone from 
 the windows yet more brightly than before. 
 A few steps further would hide them, and 
 the edifice, and all that belonged to it from 
 his sight, possibly for ever. There was 
 something In the thought which led him to 
 linger in a way he had not at all expected. 
 The chapel had neither beauty, quaintness, 
 nor congeniality to recommend It : the dis- 
 similitude between the new utilitarianism of 
 the place and the scenes of venerable Gothic 
 art which had occupied his daylight hours 
 could not well be exceeded. But Somerset, 
 as has been said, was an instrument of no 
 narrow gamut : he had a key for other 
 touches than the purely aesthetic, even on 
 such an excursion as this. His mind was 
 arrested by the intense and busy energy 
 which must needs belong to an assembly 
 that required such a glare of light to do its 
 religion by ; In the heaving of that tune 
 there was an earnestness which made him 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 21 
 
 thoughtful, and the shine of those windows 
 he had characterised as ugly reminded him 
 of the shining of the good deed in a naughty 
 world. The chapel and its shabby plot of 
 ground, from which the herbage was all 
 trodden away by busy feet, had a living 
 human interest that the numerous minsters 
 and churches knee-deep In fresh green grass, 
 visited by him during the foregoing week, 
 had often lacked. Moreover there was going 
 to be a baptism : that meant the immersion 
 of a grown-up person ; and he had been told 
 that Baptists were earnest people and that 
 the scene was most impressive. What 
 manner of man would it be who on an 
 ordinary plodding and bustling evening of 
 the nineteenth century could single himself 
 out as one different from the rest of the 
 inhabitants, banish all shyness, and come 
 forward to undergo such a trying ceremony ? 
 Who was he that had pondered, gone Into 
 solitudes, wrestled with himself, worked up 
 his courage and said, I will do this, though 
 few else will, for I believe It to be my duty ? 
 Whether on account of these thoughts, or 
 
22 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 from the circumstance that he had been alone 
 amongst the tombs all day without commu- 
 nion with his kind, he could not tell in after 
 years (when he had good reason to think of 
 the subject) ; but so it was that Somerset went 
 back, and again stood under the chapel-wall. 
 
 Instead of entering he passed round to 
 where the stove-chimney came through the 
 bricks, and holding on to the iron stay he rested 
 on the plinth and looked in at the window. 
 The building was quite full of people belong- 
 ing to that vast majority of society who are 
 denied the art of articulating their higher 
 emotions, and crave dumbly for a fugleman- — 
 respectably dressed working people, whose 
 faces and forms were worn and contorted by 
 years of dreary toil. On a platform at the 
 end of the chapel a haggard man of more 
 than middle age, with grey whiskers asceti- 
 cally cut back from the fore part of his face 
 so far as to be almost banished from the 
 countenance, stood reading a chapter. 
 Between the minister and the congregation 
 was an open space, and in the floor of this 
 was sunk a tank full of water, which just 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 23 
 
 made its surface visible above the blackness 
 of its depths by reflecting the lights over- 
 head. 
 
 After glancing miscellaneously at the as- 
 semblage for some moments Somerset en- 
 deavoured to discover which one among them 
 was to be the subject of the ceremony. But 
 nobody appeared there who was at all out 
 of the region of commonplace. The people 
 were all quiet and settled ; yet he could dis- 
 cern on their faces something more than 
 attention, though it was less than excitement : 
 perhaps it was expectation. And as if to 
 bear out his surmise he heard at that moment 
 the noise of wheels behind him, which led him 
 to turn his head. 
 
 His gaze into the lighted chapel made 
 what had been an evening scene when he 
 looked away from the landscape night itself 
 on looking back ; but he could see enough to 
 discover that a brougham had driven up to 
 the side-door used by the young water- 
 bearers, and that a lady in white-and-black 
 half-mourning was in the act of alighting, 
 followed by what appeared to be a waiting- 
 
24 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 woman carrying wraps. They entered the 
 vestry-room of the chapel, and the door was 
 shut. The service went on as before till at a 
 certain moment the door between vestry and 
 chapel was opened, when a woman came out 
 clothed in an ample robe of flowing white, 
 which descended to her feet. Somerset was 
 unfortunate in his position ; he could not see 
 her face, but her gait suggested at once that 
 she was the lady who had arrived just before. 
 She was rather tall than otherwise, and the 
 contour of her head and shoulders denoted 
 a girl In the heyday of youth and activity. 
 His imagination, stimulated by this beginning, 
 set about filling In the meagre outline with 
 most attractive details. 
 
 She stood upon the brink of the pool, and 
 the minister descended the steps at Its edge 
 till the soles of his shoes were moistened with 
 the water. He turned to the young candidate, 
 but she did not follow him : instead of doing 
 so she remained rigid as a stone. He 
 stretched out his hand, but she still showed 
 reluctance, till, with some embarrassment, he 
 went back, and spoke softly in her ear, after- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 25 
 
 wards saying in a voice audible to all who 
 were near, " You will descend ? " 
 
 She approached the edge, looked into the 
 water, and gently turned away. Somerset 
 could for the first time see her face. Though 
 humanly imperfect, as is every face we see, it 
 was one which made him think that the best 
 in woman-kind no less than the best in psalm- 
 tunes had gone over to the Dissenters. He 
 had certainly seen nobody so interesting in 
 his tour hitherto ; she was about twenty or 
 twenty-one — perhaps twenty-three, for years 
 have a way of stealing marches even upon 
 beauty's anointed. The total dissimilarity 
 between the expression of her lineaments and 
 that of the countenances around her was not 
 a little surprising, and was productive of 
 hypotheses without measure as to how she 
 came there. She was, in fact, emphatically 
 a modern type of maidenhood, and she looked 
 ultra-modern by reason of her environment : 
 a presumably sophisticated being among the 
 simple ones — not wickedly so, but one who 
 knew life fairly well for her age. Her hair, 
 of good English brown, neither light nor 
 
26 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 dark, was abundant — too abundant for con- 
 venience in tying, as it seemed ; and it threw 
 off the lamp-Hght in a hazy lustre. As before 
 observed, it could not be said of her features 
 that this or that was flawless — quite the con- 
 trary, indeed ; but the nameless charm of 
 them altogether was only another instance of 
 how beautiful a woman can be as a whole 
 without attaining in any one detail to the 
 lines marked out as absolutely correct. The 
 spirit and the life were there ; and material 
 shapes could be disregarded. 
 
 This was all that could be gleaned of her : 
 whatever moral characteristics it might be 
 the surface of, enough was shown to assure 
 Somerset that she had had some experience 
 of things far removed from her present circum- 
 scribed horizon, and could live, and was even 
 at that moment living, a clandestine, stealthy 
 inner life which had very little to do with her 
 present outward one. The repression of 
 nearly every external sign of that distress 
 under which Somerset knew, by a sudden 
 intuitive sympathy, that she was labouring, 
 added strength to these convictions. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 27 
 
 " And you refuse ? " said the astonished 
 minister, as she still stood immoveable on the 
 brink of the pool. He added to the force of 
 his pleading- by persuasively taking her sleeve 
 between his finger and thumb as if to draw 
 her ; but she resented this by a quick move- 
 ment of displeasure, and he released her, 
 seeing that he had gone too far. 
 
 " But, my dear lady," he whispered, " you 
 promised ! Consider your profession, and 
 that you stand in the eyes of the whole church 
 as an exemplar of your faith." 
 
 '' I cannot do it ! " 
 
 " But your father's memory, miss ; his last 
 dying request ! " 
 
 " I cannot help it," she said, turning to get 
 away. 
 
 " You came here with the intention to fulfil 
 the Word.?" 
 
 *' But I was mistaken." 
 
 ^' Then why did you come ?'' 
 
 She tacitly implied that to be a question 
 she did not care to answer. " Please say no 
 more to me," she murmured, and hastened to 
 withdraw. 
 
25 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 During this unexpected dialogue (which 
 had distinctly reached Somerset's ears, the 
 windows standing open for ventilation, and 
 his perch being close behind the speakers) 
 that young man's feelings had flown hither 
 and thither between minister and lady in a 
 most capricious manner : it had seemed at 
 one moment a rather uncivil thing of her, 
 charming as she was, to give the minister 
 and the water-bearers so much trouble for 
 nothing ; the next, it seemed like reviving 
 the ancient cruelties of the ducking-stool to 
 try to force a girl into that dark water if she 
 had not a mind for it. But the minister was 
 not without Insight, and he had seen that it 
 would be useless to say more. The crestfallen 
 old man had to turn round upon the congre- 
 gation and declare officially that the baptism 
 was postponed. 
 
 She passed through the door into the 
 vestry. During the exciting moments of her 
 recusancy there had been a perceptible flutter 
 among the sensitive members of the congre- 
 gation ; nervous Dissenters seeming to be at 
 one with nervous Episcopalians In this at 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 29 
 
 least, that they heartily disliked a scene 
 during service. Calm was restored to their 
 minds by the minister starting a rather long 
 hymn in minims and semlbreves, amid the 
 singing of which he ascended the pulpit. 
 His face had a severe and even denunciatory 
 look as he gave out his text, and Somerset 
 began to understand that this meant mischief 
 to the person who had caused the hitch. 
 
 "In the third chapter of Revelation and 
 the fifteenth and following verses, you will 
 find these words : 
 
 " * / know thy works, that thou art neither 
 cold nor hot : I would thou wert cold or hot. 
 So the7i because thou art lukewar^n, and 
 7ieither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of 
 my mouth. . . , Thou sayest, I am rich, and 
 increased with goods, and have need of nothing ; 
 and knowest not that thou art wi^etched, and 
 miserable, and poor, and blifzd, and naked! " 
 
 The sermon straightway began, and went 
 on, and it was soon apparent that the com- 
 mentary was to be no less forcible than the 
 text. It was also apparent that the words 
 were, virtually, not directed forward in the 
 
30 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 line in which they were uttered, but through 
 the chink of the vestry-door, that had stood 
 sHghtly ajar since the exit of the young 
 lady. The listeners appeared to feel this 
 no less than Somerset did, for their eyes, 
 one and all, became fixed upon that vestry- 
 door as if they would almost push it open 
 by the force of their gazing. The preacher's 
 heart was full and bitter ; no book or note 
 was wanted by him ; never was spontaneity 
 more absolute than here. His enthusiasm 
 had been suddenly made to take a negative 
 turn by pressure of unexpected circumstances. 
 It was no timid reproof of the ornamental 
 kind, but a direct denunciation, all the more 
 vigorous perhaps from the limitation of mind 
 and language under which the speaker 
 laboured. Yet fool that he had been made 
 by the candidate there was nothing acrid in 
 his attack. Genuine flashes of rhetorical fire 
 were occasionally struck by that plain and 
 simple man, who knew what straightforward 
 conduct was, and who did not know the 
 illimitable caprice of a woman's mind. 
 
 At this moment there was not in the whole 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 3 1 
 
 chapel a person whose imagination was not 
 centred on what was invisibly taking place 
 within the vestry-door. The thunder of 
 the ministers eloquence echoed, of course, 
 through the weak sister's cavern of retreat 
 no less than round the public assembly. 
 What she was doing inside there — whether 
 listening contritely, or haughtily hastening 
 to get away from the chapel and all it con- 
 tained^ — was obviously the thought of each 
 member. What changes were tracing them- 
 selves upon that lovely face : did it rise to 
 phases of Raffaelesque resignation, or sink 
 so low as to flush and frown ? was Somerset's 
 inquiry ; and a half-explanation occurred 
 when, during the discourse, the door which 
 had been ajar was gently pushed to. 
 
 Looking on as a stranger it seemed to him 
 more than probable that this young woman's 
 power of persistence in her unexpected 
 repugnance to the rite was strengthened by 
 wealth and position of some sort, and was 
 not the unassisted gift of nature. The 
 manner of her arrival, and her dignified bear- 
 ing before the assembly, strengthened the 
 
32 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 belief. A woman who did not feel some- 
 thing extraneous to her mental self to fall 
 back upon would be so far overawed by the 
 people and the crisis as not to retain suffi- 
 cient resolution for a change of mind. 
 
 The sermon ended, the minister wiped his 
 steaming face and turned down his cuffs, and 
 nods and sagacious glances went round. Yet 
 many, even of those who had presumably 
 passed the same ordeal with credit, exhibited 
 gentler judgment than the preacher's on a 
 tergiversation of which they had probably 
 recognised some germ in their own bosoms 
 when in the lady's situation. 
 
 For Somerset there was but one scene : 
 the imagined scene of the girl herself as she 
 sat alone in the vestry. The fervent con- 
 gregation rose to sing again, and then 
 Somerset heard a slight noise on his left 
 hand which caused him to turn his head. 
 The brougham, which had retired into the 
 field to wait, was back again at the door : 
 the subject of his rumination came out from 
 the chapel — not in her mystic robe of white, 
 but dressed in ordinary fashionable costume 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 33 
 
 — followed as before by the attendant with 
 other articles of clothing on her arm, in- 
 cluding the white gown. Somerset fancied 
 that the younger woman was drying her eyes 
 with her handkerchief, but there was not 
 much time to see : they quickly entered the 
 carriage, and it moved on. Then a cat 
 suddenly mewed, and he saw a white Persian 
 standing forlorn where the carriage had 
 been. The door was opened, the cat taken 
 in, and the carriage rolled away. 
 
 The young strangers form stamped itself 
 deeply on Somerset's soul. He strolled on 
 his way quite oblivious to the fact that the 
 moon had just risen, and that the landscape 
 was one for him to linger over, especially 
 if there were any Gothic architecture in the 
 line of the lunar rays. The inference was 
 that though this girl must be of a serious 
 turn of mind, caprice was not foreign to her 
 composition : and upon the whole it was 
 probable that her daily doings evinced with- 
 out much abatement the unbroken spirit and 
 pride of life natural to her age. 
 
 The little village inn at which Somerset 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 intended to pass the night lay two miles 
 further on, and retracing his way up to the 
 stile he rambled along the lane, now begin- 
 ning to be streaked like a zebra with the 
 shadows of some young trees that edged 
 the road. But his attention was attracted to 
 the other side of the way by a hum as of 
 a night-bee, which arose from the play of 
 the breezes over a single wire of telegraph 
 running parallel with his track on tall poles 
 that had appeared by the road, he hardly 
 knew when, from a branch route, probably 
 leading from some town In the neighbour- 
 hood to the village he was approaching. 
 He did not know the population of Sleeping- 
 Green, as the village of his search was called, 
 but the presence of this mark of civilisation 
 seemed to signify that Its inhabitants were 
 not quite so far in the rear of their age as 
 might be imagined ; a glance at the still un- 
 grassed heap of earth round the foot of each 
 post was, however, sufficient to show that it 
 was at no very remote period that they had 
 made their advance. 
 
 Aided by this friendly wire Somerset had 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 35 
 
 no difficulty in keeping his course, till he 
 reached a point in the ascent of a hill at 
 which the telegraph branched off from the 
 road, passing through an opening in the 
 hedge, to strike across an undulating down, 
 while the road wound round to the left. 
 For a few moments Somerset doubted and 
 stood still : the cut over the down had no 
 mark of a path or drive, but on the other 
 hand it might be a shorter though steeper 
 way to the same place. The wire sang on 
 overhead with dying falls and melodious 
 rises that invited him to follow ; while above 
 the wire rode the stars in their courses, the 
 low nocturn of the former seeminp* to be the 
 voices of those stars, 
 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim. 
 
 Recalling himself from these reflections 
 Somerset decided to follow the lead of the 
 wire. It was not the first time during his 
 present tour that he had found his way at 
 night by the help of these musical threads 
 which the post-office authorities had erected 
 all over the country for quite another pur- 
 
36 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 pose than to guide belated travellers. Plung- 
 ing with it across the down he soon came 
 to a hedgeless road that entered a park or 
 chase, which flourished in all its original 
 wildness. Tufts of rushes and brakes of 
 fern rose from the hollows, and the road 
 was in places half overgrown with green, as 
 if it had not been tended for many years ; 
 so much so that, where shaded by trees, he 
 found some difficulty in keeping it. Though 
 he had noticed the remains of a deer-fence 
 further back no deer were visible, and it was 
 scarcely possible that there should be any 
 in the existing state of things ; but rabbits 
 were multitudinous, every hillock being dotted 
 with their seated figures till Somerset ap- 
 proached and sent them limping into their 
 burrows. The road next wound round a 
 clump of under^vood beside which lay heaps 
 of faggots for burning, and then there ap- 
 peared against the sky the walls and towers 
 of a castle, half ruin, half residence, standing 
 on an eminence hard by. 
 
 Somerset stopped to examine it. The 
 castle was not exceptionally large, but it had 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 37 
 
 all the characteristics of its most important 
 fellows. Irregular, dilapidated, and muffled 
 in creepers as a great portion of it was, 
 some part — a comparatively modern wing as 
 nearly as he could discover at a glance — was 
 inhabited, for a light or two steadily gleamed 
 from some upper windows ; in others a re- 
 flection of the moon denoted that unbroken 
 glass yet filled their casements. Over all 
 rose the keep, a square solid tower ap- 
 parently not much injured by wars or 
 weather, and darkened with ivy on one side, 
 wherein wings could be heard flapping un- 
 certainly, as If they belonged to a bird unable 
 to find a proper perch. Hissing noises 
 supervened, and then a hoot, proclaiming 
 that a brood of young owls were residing 
 there in the company of older ones. In 
 spite of the habitable and more modern 
 wing, neglect and decay had set their mark 
 upon the outworks of the pile, unfitting 
 them for a more positive light than that of 
 the present hour. 
 
 He walked up to a modern arch spanning 
 the ditch — now dry and green — over which 
 
38 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 the drawbridge once had swung. The large 
 door under the porter's archway was closed 
 and locked. While standing here the sing- 
 ing of the wire, which for the last few 
 minutes he had quite forgotten, again struck 
 upon his ear, and retreating to a convenient 
 place he observed its final course : from the 
 poles amid the trees it leaped across the 
 moat, over the girdling wall, and thence by 
 a tremendous stretch towards the keep where, 
 to judge by sound, it vanished through an 
 arrow-slit into the interior. This fossil of 
 feudalism, then, was the journey's-end of the 
 wire, and not the village of Sleeping-Green. 
 
 There was a certain unexpectedness in 
 the fact that the hoary memorial of a stolid 
 antagonism to the interchange of ideas, the 
 monument of hard distinctions in blood and 
 race, of deadly mistrust of one's neighbour 
 in spite of the Church's teaching, and of a 
 sublime unconsciousness of any other force 
 than a brute one, should be the goal of a 
 machine which beyond everything may be 
 said to symbolise cosmopolitan views and 
 the intellectual and moral kinship of all man- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 39 
 
 kind. In that light the little buzzing wire 
 had a far finer significance to the student 
 Somerset than the vast walls which neigh- 
 boured It. But, on the other hand, the 
 modern mental fever and fret which con- 
 sumes people before they can grow old was 
 also signified by the wire ; and this aspect 
 of to-day did not contrast well (at least in his 
 moonlight meditations) with the fairer side of 
 feudalism — leisure, light-hearted generosity, 
 intense friendships, hawks, hounds, revels, 
 healthy complexions, freedom from care, and 
 such a living power in architectural art as 
 the world may never again see — civilisation 
 having at present a stronger attachment to 
 lath and plaster than to walls of a thickness 
 sufficient for the perpetuation of grand ideas. 
 Somerset withdrew till neither the singing 
 of the wire nor the hisses of the irritable 
 owls could be heard any more. A clock in 
 the castle struck ten, and he recognised the 
 strokes as those he had heard when sitting 
 on the stile. It was indispensable that he 
 should retrace his steps and push on to 
 Sleeping-Green If he wished that night to 
 
40 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 reach his lodgings, which had been secured 
 by letter at a little inn in the straggling 
 line of roadside houses called by the above 
 name, where his luggage had by this time 
 probably arrived. In a quarter of an hour 
 he was again at the point where the wire 
 left the road, and following the highway over 
 a hill he saw the hamlet at his feet. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 4 1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 By half-past ten the next morning Somerset 
 was once more approaching the precincts of 
 the building which had interested him the 
 night before. Referring to his map he had 
 learnt that it bore the name of Stancy Castle 
 or Castle de Stancy ; and he had been at 
 once struck with Its familiarity, though he had 
 never understood its position in the county, 
 believing it further to the west. If report 
 spoke truly there was some excellent vaulting 
 in the interior, and a change of study from 
 ecclesiastical to secular Gothic was not un- 
 welcome for a while. 
 
 The entrance-gate was open now, and 
 under the archway the outer ward was 
 visible, a great part of it being laid out as 
 a flower-garden. This was in process of 
 
42 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 clearing from weeds and rubbish by a set 
 of gardeners, and the soil was so encumbered 
 that in rooting out the weeds such few hardy 
 flowers as still remained in the beds were 
 mostly brought up with them. The groove 
 wherein the portcullis had run was as fresh 
 as if only cut yesterday, the very tooling of 
 the stone being visible. Close to this hung 
 a bell-pull formed of a large wooden acorn 
 attached to a vertical rod. Somerset's ap- 
 plication brought a woman from the porter's 
 door, who informed him that the day before 
 having been the weekly show-day for visitors, 
 it was doubtful if he could be admitted now. 
 
 " Who is at home ? " said Somerset. 
 
 " Only Miss De Stancy," the porteress 
 replied. 
 
 To him Miss De Stancy seemed a great 
 deal, and his dread of being considered an 
 intruder was such that he thought at first 
 there was no help for it but to wait till the 
 next week. But before retreating many 
 steps he changed his mind : he had already 
 through his want of effrontery lost a sight 
 of many interiors, whose exhibition would 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 43 
 
 have been rather a satisfaction to the Inmates 
 than a trouble. It was Inconvenient to wait : 
 he knew nobody In the neighbourhood from 
 whom he could get an Introductory letter : 
 he turned and passed the woman, crossed 
 the ward where the gardeners were at work, 
 over a second and smaller bridge, and up 
 a flight of stone stairs, open to the sky, 
 along whose steps sunburnt Tudor soldiers 
 and other renowned dead men had doubtless 
 many times walked. It led to the principal 
 door on this side. Thence he could observe 
 the walls of the lower court In detail, and 
 the old mosses with which they were padded 
 — mosses that from time immemorial had 
 been burnt brown every summer, and every 
 winter had grown green again. The arrow- 
 slit and the electric wire that entered It, like 
 a worm uneasy at being unearthed, were 
 distinctly visible now. So also was the 
 clock, not, as he had supposed, a chrono- 
 meter coeval with the fortress itself, but new 
 and shining, and bearing the name of a 
 recent maker. 
 
 The door was opened by a bland. Intensely 
 
44 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 shaven man out of livery, who took Somer- 
 set's name and poHtely worded request to be 
 allowed to inspect the architecture of the 
 more public portions of the castle. He pro- 
 nounced the word " architecture " in the tone 
 of a man who knew and practised that art ; 
 '' for," he said to himself, " if she thinks I 
 am a mere idle tourist, it will not be so 
 well/' 
 
 No such uncomfortable consequences en- 
 sued. Miss De Stancy had great pleasure 
 in giving Mr. Somerset full permission to 
 walk through whatever parts of the building 
 he chose. 
 
 It was as if he had come from winter to 
 summer at this intelligence. He followed 
 the butler into the inner buildings of the 
 fortress, the ponderous thickness of whose 
 walls made itself felt like a physical pressure. 
 An internal stone staircase, ranged round 
 four sides of a square, was next revealed, 
 leading at the top of one flight into a 
 spacious hall, which seemed to occupy the 
 whole area of the keep. From this apart- 
 ment a corridor floored with black oak led 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 45 
 
 to the more modern wing, where h'ght and 
 air were treated in a less gingerly fashion. 
 
 Here the passages were broader than in 
 the oldest portion, and upholstery enlisted in 
 the service of the fine arts hid to a great 
 extent the coldness of the walls. 
 
 Somerset was now left to himself, and 
 roving freely from room to room he found 
 time to inspect the different objects of 
 interest that abounded there. Not all the 
 chambers, even of the habitable division, 
 were in use as dwelling-rooms, though these 
 were still numerous enough for the wants of 
 an ordinary country family. In a long 
 gallery with a coved ceiling of arabesques 
 which had once been gilded, hung a series 
 of paintings representing the past personages 
 of the De Stancy line. It was a remarkable 
 array — even more so on account of the in- 
 credibly neglected condition of the canvases 
 than for the artistic peculiarities they ex- 
 hibited. Many of the frames were dropping 
 apart at their angles, and some of the canvas 
 was so dingy that the face of the person 
 depicted was only distinguishable as the 
 
46 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 moon through mist. For the colour they 
 had now they might have been painted 
 during an eclipse ; while, to judge by the 
 webs tying them to the wall, the spiders that 
 ran up and down their backs were such as 
 to make the fair originals shudder In their 
 graves. 
 
 He wondered how many of the lofty fore- 
 heads and smiling lips of this pictorial 
 pedigree could be credited as true reflections 
 of their prototypes. Some were wilfully 
 false, no doubt ; many more so by unavoid- 
 able accident and want of skill. Somerset 
 felt that It required a profounder mind than 
 his to disinter from the lumber of conven- 
 tionality the lineaments that really sat In the 
 painter's presence, and to discover their 
 history behind the curtain of mere tradition. 
 Perhaps a true account of the sweetest and 
 softest among these who looked so demurely 
 at him over their pearl necklaces was a story 
 which, related In Its bareness, would be 
 hardly credible to the more self-repressing 
 natures of the present day. 
 
 The painters of this long collection were 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 47 
 
 those who usually appear in such places : 
 Holbein, Jansen, and Vandyck ; Sir Peter, 
 Sir Geoffrey, Sir Joshua, and Sir Thomas. 
 Their sitters, too, had mostly been sirs : Sir 
 William, Sir John, or Sir George De Stancy — 
 some undoubtedly having a nobility stamped 
 upon them beyond that conferred by their 
 robes and orders ; and others not so for- 
 tunate. Their respective ladies hung by 
 their sides — feeble and watery, or fat and 
 comfortable, as the case might be ; also their 
 fathers and mothers-in-law, their brothers and 
 remoter relatives ; their contemporary reign- 
 ing princes, and their intimate friends. Of 
 the De Stancys pure there ran through the 
 collection a mark by which they might surely 
 have been recognised as members of one 
 family ; this feature being the upper part of 
 the nose. Every one, even if lacking other 
 points in common, had the special indent at 
 this point in the face — sometimes moderate 
 in degree, sometimes excessive. 
 
 While looking at the pictures — which, 
 though not in his regular line of study, in- 
 terested Somerset more than the architec- 
 
48 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ture, because of their singular dilapidation, 
 it occurred to his mind that he had in his 
 youth been schoolfellow for a very short 
 time with a pleasant boy bearing a surname 
 attached to one of the paintings — the name 
 of Ravensbury. The boy had vanished he 
 knew not how — he thought he had been 
 removed from school suddenly on account 
 of ill health. But the recollection was vague, 
 and Somerset moved on to the rooms above 
 and below. In addition to the architectural 
 details of which he had as yet obtained but 
 glimpses, there was a great collection of old 
 moveables and other domestic art-work — all 
 more than a century old, and mostly lying 
 as lumber. There were suites of tapestry 
 hangings, common and fine ; green and scarlet 
 leather-work, on which the gilding was still 
 but little injured ; venerable damask curtains ; 
 quilted silk table-covers, ebony cabinets, 
 worked satin window-cushions, carved bed- 
 steads, and embroidered bed-furniture which 
 had apparently screened no sleeper for these 
 many years. Downstairs there was also an 
 interesting collection of armour, together with 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 49 
 
 several huge trunks and coffers. A great 
 many of them had been recently taken out 
 and cleaned, as if a long dormant interest 
 in them were suddenly revived. Doubtless 
 they were those which had been used by 
 the living originals of the phantoms that 
 looked down from the frames. 
 
 This excellent hoard of suggestive designs 
 for woodwork, metal-work, and work of other 
 sorts, induced Somerset to divert his studies 
 from the ecclesiastical direction in which they 
 had flowed too exclusively of late, to acquire 
 some new ideas from the objects here for 
 domestic application. Yet for the present 
 he was inclined to keep his sketch-book 
 closed and his ivory rule folded, and devote 
 himself to a general survey. Emerging from 
 the ground-floor by a small doorway, he 
 found himself on a terrace to the north-east, 
 and on the other side than that by which he 
 had entered. It was bounded by a parapet 
 breast high, over which a view of the distant 
 country met the eye, stretching from the foot 
 of the slope to a distance of many miles. 
 Somerset went and leaned over, and looked 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 down Upon the tops of the bushes beneath. 
 The prospect included the village he had 
 passed through on the previous day : and 
 amidst the green lights and shades of the 
 meadows he could discern the red brick 
 chapel whose recalcitrant inmate had so en- 
 grossed him. 
 
 Before his attention had long strayed over 
 the incident which romanticised that utili- 
 tarian structure, he became aware that he 
 was not the only person who was looking 
 from the terrace towards that point of the 
 compass. At the right-hand corner, in a 
 niche of the curtain-wall, reclined a girlish 
 shape ; and asleep on the bench over which 
 she leaned was a white cat — the identical 
 Persian as it seemed — that had been taken 
 into the carriage at the chapel-door. 
 
 By a natural train of thought Somerset 
 began to muse on the probability or other- 
 wise of the backsliding Baptist and this 
 young lady resulting in one and the same 
 person ; and almost without knowing it he 
 found himself deeply hoping for such a 
 charming unity. It was hoping quite out of 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 5T 
 
 bounds ; yet at the present moment it was 
 impossible to say they were not the same. 
 The object of his inspection was idly leaning, 
 and this somewhat disguised her figure. It 
 might have been tall or short, curvilinear or 
 angular. She carried a light sunshade which 
 she fitfully twirled until, thrusting it back 
 over her shoulder, her head was revealed 
 sufficiently to show that she wore no hat or 
 bonnet. This token of her being an inmate 
 of the castle, and not a visitor, as Somerset 
 had conjectured, rather damped his expecta- 
 tions : but so unreasonable is hope, par- 
 ticularly when allied with a young man's 
 fancy, that he persisted in believing her look 
 towards the chapel must have a meaning in 
 it, till she suddenly stood erect, and revealed 
 herself as short in stature — almost dumpy — 
 at the same time giving him a distinct view 
 of her profile. She was not at all like the 
 heroine of the chapel ; he saw the dinted 
 nose of the De Stancys distinctly outlined 
 with Holbein shadowlessness against the 
 blue-green of the distant wood. But it was 
 not the De Stancy face with all its original 
 
52 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 specialities : it was, so to speak, a defective 
 reprint of that face : for the nose tried hard 
 to turn up and deal utter confusion to the 
 family shape. 
 
 As for the rest of the countenance, Somer- 
 set was obliged to own that it was not 
 beautiful : Nature had done there many- 
 things that she ought not to have done, and 
 left undone much that she should have 
 executed. It would have been decidedly 
 plain but for a precious quality which no 
 perfection of chiselling can give when the 
 temperament denies it, and which no facial 
 irregularity can take away — a tender affec- 
 tionateness which might almost be called 
 yearning ; such as is often seen in all its 
 intensity in the women of Correggio when 
 they are painted in profile, and which a slight 
 elevation of the lower part of her face helped 
 to accentuate. Perhaps the plain features of 
 Miss De Stancy — who she undoubtedly was 
 — were rather severely handled by Somer- 
 set's judgment owing to his impression of 
 the previous night. And, Indeed, a beauty 
 of a sort would have been lent by the 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 53 
 
 flexuous contours of the mobile parts but for 
 that unfortunate condition the poor girl was 
 burdened with, of having to hand on a tradi- 
 tional feature with which she did not find 
 herself otherwise In harmony. 
 
 She glanced at him for a moment in turn- 
 ing, and presently showed by an imperceptible 
 movement that he had made his presence felt. 
 Not to embarrass her, if It were true, as It 
 seemed, that she was not much accustomed to 
 strangers, Somerset instantly hastened to 
 withdraw, at the same time that she passed 
 round to the other part of the terrace, followed 
 by the cat, in whom Somerset could imagine 
 a certain denominational cast of countenance, 
 notwithstanding her company. But as white 
 cats are much like each other at a distance, it 
 was reasonable to suppose this creature was 
 not the same one as that possessed by the 
 beauty. 
 
54 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 He descended the stone stairs to a lower 
 storey of the castle, in which was a crypt-like 
 hall covered by vaulting of exceptional and 
 massive ingenuity : 
 
 Built ere the art was known, 
 By pointed aisle and shafted stalk 
 The arcades of an alleyed walk 
 
 To emulate in stone. 
 
 It happened that the central pillar whereon 
 the vaults rested, reputed to exhibit some of 
 the most hideous grotesques in England 
 upon its capital, had been enclosed with a 
 modern partition, cutting off a portion of the 
 large area for domestic purposes. A locked 
 door barred Somerset's ingress, and he was 
 tempted to ask a servant for permission to 
 open it till he heard that the inner room was 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 55 
 
 temporarily used for plate, the key being 
 kept by Miss De Stancy, at which Somerset 
 said no more. But afterwards he heard the 
 active housemaid redescending the stone 
 steps ; she entered the crypt with a bunch of 
 keys in one hand, and in the other a candle, 
 followed by the young lady whom Somerset 
 had seen on the terrace. The servant ad- 
 vanced with the key, but the young lady 
 stood back ; he saw that something hung 
 upon her lips to say to him which she could 
 not get off; he slightly bowed to encourage 
 her. 
 
 '' I shall be very glad to unlock anything 
 you may want to see," she now found tongue 
 to say. '' So few people take any real 
 interest in what is here that we do not leave 
 it open." 
 
 Somerset expressed his thanks. 
 
 Miss De Stancy, a little to his surprise, 
 had a touch of rusticity in her manner, and 
 that forced absence of reserve which seclusion 
 from society lends to young women more 
 frequently than not. She seemed glad to 
 have something to do ; the arrival of Somer- 
 
56 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 set was plainly an event sufficient to set some 
 little mark upon her day. Deception had 
 been written on the faces of those frowning 
 walls in their implying the insignificance of 
 Somerset, when he found them tenanted only 
 by this little woman whose life was narrower 
 than his own. 
 
 '' We have not been here long," continued 
 Miss De Stancy, " and that's why everything 
 is in such a dilapidated and confused condi- 
 tion." 
 
 Somerset entered the dark store-closet, 
 thinking less of the ancient pillar revealed by 
 the light of the candle than what a singular 
 remark the latter was to come from a 
 member of the family which appeared to 
 have been there fivQ centuries. He held the 
 candle above his head, and walked round, and 
 presently Miss De Stancy came back. 
 
 " There is another vault below," she said, 
 with the severe face of a young woman who 
 speaks only because it is absolutely necessary. 
 " Perhaps you are not aware of it .^ It was 
 the dungeon : if you wish to go down there 
 too, the servant will show you the way. It 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 57 
 
 is not at all ornamental : rough, unhewn 
 arches and clumsy piers." 
 
 Somerset thanked her, and would perhaps 
 take advantage of her kind offer when he 
 had examined the spot where he was, if it 
 were not causing inconvenience. 
 
 '' No ; I am sure Paula will be glad to 
 know that anybody thinks it interesting to 
 go down there — which is more than she does 
 herself." 
 
 Some obvious inquiries were suggested by 
 this, but Somerset said, " I have seen the 
 pictures, and have been much struck by 
 them ; partly," he added, with some hesita- 
 tion, " because one or tw^o of them reminded 
 me of a schoolfellow — I think his name was 
 John Ravensbury ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, almost eagerly. ''He 
 was my cousin ! " 
 
 " So that we are not quite strangers ? " 
 
 '* But he is dead now. . . . He was un- 
 fortunate : he was mostly spoken of as ' that 
 unlucky boy.' . . . You know, I suppose, 
 Mr. Somerset, why the paintings are in such 
 a decaying state ? — it is owing to the peculiar 
 
58 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 treatment of the castle during Mr. Wilklns's 
 time. He was blind ; so one can imagine he 
 did not appreciate such things as there are 
 here." 
 
 ''The castle has been shut up, you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, for many years. But it will not 
 be so again. We are going to have the 
 pictures cleaned, and the frames mended, and 
 the old pieces of furniture put in their proper 
 places. It will be very nice then. Did you 
 see those in the east closet ? " 
 
 " I have only seen those in the gallery." 
 
 '' I will just show you the way to the 
 others, if you would like to see them ? " 
 
 They ascended to the room designated the 
 east closet. The paintings here, mostly of 
 smaller size, were in a better condition, 
 owing partly to the fact that they were 
 hung on an inner wall, and had hence been 
 kept comparatively free from damp. Somer- 
 set inquired the names and histories of one 
 or two. 
 
 " I really don't quite know," Miss De 
 Stancy replied after some thought. '' But 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 59 
 
 Paula knows, I am sure. I don't study 
 them much— I don't see the use of it." 
 She swung her sunshade, so that it fell 
 open, and turned it up till it fell shut. '' I 
 have never been able to give much attention 
 to ancestors," she added, wath her eyes on 
 the parasol. 
 
 '' These are your ancestors ? " he asked, 
 for her position and tone were matters which 
 perplexed him. In spite of the family like- 
 ness and other details he could scarcely 
 believe this frank and communicative country 
 maiden to be the modern representative of 
 the De Stancys. 
 
 " Oh, yes, they certainly are," she said 
 laughing. " People say I am like them : 
 I don't know if I am — well, yes, I know I 
 am : I can see that, of course, any day. But 
 they have gone from my family, and perhaps it 
 is just as well that they should have gone. 
 . . . They are useless," she added, with 
 serene conclusiveness. 
 
 " Ah ! they have gone, have they ? " 
 
 '' Yes, castle and furniture went together : 
 it was long ago — long before I was born. It 
 
6o 
 
 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 doesn't seem to me as if the place ever be- 
 longed to a relative of mine." 
 
 Somerset corrected his smiling manner to 
 one of solicitude. 
 
 " But you live here, Miss De Stancy }" 
 
 '' Yes — a great deal now ; though some- 
 times I go home to sleep." 
 
 " This is home to you, and not home ? " 
 
 "I live here with Paula -my friend: I 
 have not been here long, neither has she. 
 For the first six months after her father's 
 death she did not come here at all." 
 
 They walked on, gazing at the walls, till 
 the young man said, as if he were rather 
 speaking of the portrait over which his eyes 
 were playing than of her previous statement : 
 " I fear I may be making some mistake : but 
 I am sure you will pardon my inquisitiveness 
 this once. Who is Paula ? " 
 
 '' Ah, you don't know ! Of course you 
 don't — local changes don't get talked of far 
 away. She is the owner of this castle and 
 estate. My father sold it when he was quite 
 a young man, years before I was born, 
 and not long after his father's death. It 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 6 1 
 
 was purchased by a man named Wllklns, a 
 rich man who became bHnd soon after he had 
 bought it, and never lived here ; so it was 
 left uncared for." 
 
 She went out upon the terrace ; and with- 
 out exactly knowing why, Somerset followed. 
 
 " Your friend " 
 
 " Has only come here quite recently. She 
 is away from home to-day. ... It was 
 very sad," murmured the young girl thought- 
 fully. "No sooner had Mr. Power bought it 
 of the representatives of Mr. Wilkins — almost 
 immediately indeed — he died from a chill 
 caught after a warm bath. On account of 
 that she did not take possession for several 
 months ; and even now she has only had a 
 few rooms prepared as a temporary residence 
 till she can think what to do. Poor thing, it 
 is sad to be left alone ! " 
 
 Somerset heedfully remarked that he 
 thought he recognised that name Power, 
 as one he had seen lately, somewhere or 
 other. 
 
 " Perhaps you have been hearing of her 
 father. Do you know what he was ? " 
 
62 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Somerset did not. 
 
 She looked across the distant country, 
 where undulations of dark - green foliage 
 formed a prospect extending for miles. And 
 as she watched, and Somerset's eyes, led 
 by hers, watched also, a white streak of 
 steam, thin as a cotton thread, could be 
 discerned ploughing that green expanse. 
 " Her father made that!' Miss De Stancy 
 said, directing her finger towards the object. 
 
 '' That what '> " 
 
 "That railway. He was Mr. John Power, 
 the great railway contractor. And it was 
 through making the railway that he dis- 
 covered this castle — the railway was diverted 
 a little on its account." 
 
 " A clash between ancient and modern." 
 
 " Yes, but he took an interest in the locality 
 long before he purchased the estate. And 
 he built the people a chapel on a bit of 
 freehold he bought for them. He was a 
 staunch Baptist up to the day of his death — 
 a much stauncher one," she said significantly, 
 " than his daughter is." 
 
 " Ah, I begin to spot her ! " 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 63 
 
 *' You have heard about the baptism ? " 
 
 " I know something of It." 
 
 " Her conduct has given mortal offence to 
 the scattered people of the denomination that 
 her father was at such pains to unite Into a 
 body, and build a chapel for." 
 
 Somerset could guess the remainder, and 
 In thinking over the circumstances did not 
 state what he had seen. She added, as If 
 disappointed at his want of curiosity : 
 
 "She would not submit to the rite when 
 It came to the point. The water looked so 
 cold and dark and fearful, she said, that she 
 could not do It to save her life." 
 
 " Surely she should have known her mind 
 before she had gone so far ? " Somerset s 
 words had a condemnatory form, but perhaps 
 his actual feeling was that If Miss Power had 
 known her own mind, she would have not 
 interested him half so much. 
 
 " Paula's own mind had nothing to do with 
 it!" said Miss De Stancy, warming up to 
 staunch partisanship In a moment. ''It was 
 all undertaken by her from a mistaken sense 
 of duty. It was her father's dying wish that 
 
64 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 she should make public profession of her — 
 what do you call it — of the denomination she 
 belonged to, as soon as she felt herself fit to 
 do It : so when he was dead she tried and 
 tried, and didn't get any more fit ; and at 
 last she screwed herself up to the pitch, and 
 thought she must undergo the ceremony out 
 of pure reverence for his memory. It was 
 very short-sighted of her father to put her 
 in such a position ; because she is now very 
 sad as she feels she can never try again after 
 such a sermon as was delivered against her." 
 
 Somerset presumed that Miss Power need 
 not have heard this Knox or Bossuet of hers 
 If she had chosen to go away ? 
 
 '' She did not hear It In the face of the 
 congregation ; but from the vestry. She 
 told me some of It when she reached home. 
 Would you believe It, the man who preached 
 so bitterly Is a tenant of hers ? I said, 
 ' Surely you will turn him out of his house ? ' 
 — But she answered, in her calm, deep, nice 
 way, that she supposed he had a perfect 
 right to preach against her, that she could 
 not In justice molest him at all. I wouldn't 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 65 
 
 let him stay If the house were mine. But 
 she has often before allowed him to scold 
 her from the pulpit in a smaller way — once 
 it was about an expensive dress she had 
 worn — not mentioning her by name, you 
 know ; but all the people are quite aware 
 that it is meant for her, because only one 
 person of her wealth or position belongs to 
 the Baptist body in this county." 
 
 Somerset was looking at the homely affec- 
 tionate face of the little speaker. " You are 
 her good friend, I am sure," he remarked. 
 
 She looked into the distant air with tacit 
 admission of the impeachment. '' So would 
 you be if you knew her," she said ; and a 
 blush slowly rose to her cheek, as if the 
 person spoken of had been a lover rather 
 than a friend. 
 
 " But you are not a Baptist any more 
 than I ? " continued Somerset. 
 
 '' Oh no. And I never knew one till I 
 knew Paula. I think they are very nice ; 
 though I sometimes wish Paula was not one, 
 but the religion of reasonable persons." 
 
 They walked on, and came opposite to 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 where the telegraph emerged from the trees, 
 leaped over the parapet, and up through the 
 loophole into the Interior. 
 
 " That looks strange In such a building," 
 said her companion. 
 
 " Miss Power had it put up to know the 
 latest news from town. It costs six pounds a 
 year for each mile. She can work it herself, 
 beautifully : and so can I, but not so well. It 
 was a great delight to learn. Miss Power 
 was so Interested at first that she was sending 
 messages from morning till night. And did 
 you hear the new clock ? " 
 
 " Oh ! is it a new one ? — Yes, I heard It." 
 
 " The old one was quite worn out ; so 
 Paula has put It In the cellar, and had this 
 new one made, though it still strikes on the 
 old bell. It tells the seconds, but the old one, 
 which my very great grandfather erected In 
 the eighteenth century, only told the hours. 
 Paula ^ays that time, being so much more 
 valuable now, must of course be cut up Into 
 smaller pieces." 
 
 " She does not appear to be much Im- 
 pressed by the spirit of this ancient pile." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 67 
 
 Miss De Stancy shook her head too slightly 
 to express absolute negation. 
 
 "Do you wish to come through this door.'^" 
 she asked. " There is a singular chimney- 
 piece in the kitchen, which is considered a 
 unique example of its kind, though I myself 
 don't know enough about it to have an 
 opinion on the subject." 
 
 When they had looked at the corbelled 
 chimney-piece they returned to the hall, 
 where his eye was caught anew by a large 
 map that he had conned for some time when 
 alone, without being able to divine the locality 
 represented. It was called " General Plan of 
 the Town," and showed streets and open 
 spaces corresponding with nothing he had seen 
 in the county. 
 
 "Is that town here ? " he asked. 
 
 " It is not anywhere but in Paula's brain ; 
 she has laid it out from her own design. The 
 site is supposed to be near our railway-station, 
 just across there, where the land belongs to 
 her. She is going to grant cheap building 
 leases, and develop the manufacture of 
 pottery." 
 
68 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ** Pottery — how very practical she must 
 be ! " 
 
 ''Oh no! no!" repHed Miss De Stancy in 
 tones showing how supremely ignorant he 
 must be of Miss Power's nature if he charac- 
 terised her in those terms. ''It is Greek 
 pottery she means — Hellenic pottery she tells 
 me to call it, only I forget. There is beauti- 
 ful clay at the place, her father told her : he 
 found it in making the railway tunnel. She 
 has visited the British Museum, continental 
 museums, and Greece, and Spain : and hopes 
 to imitate the old fictile work in time, es- 
 pecially the Greek of the best period, four 
 hundred years after Christ, or before Christ 
 — I forget which it was Paula said. . . . Oh 
 no, she is not practical in the sense you mean, 
 at all." 
 
 " A mixed young lady, rather." 
 Miss De Stancy appeared unable to settle 
 whether this new definition of her dear friend 
 should be accepted as kindly, or disallowed 
 as decidedly sarcastic. " You would like her 
 if you knew her," she insisted, in halftones of 
 pique ; after which she walked on a few steps. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 69 
 
 '' I think very highly of her," said 
 Somerset. 
 
 '' And I ! And yet at one time I could 
 never have believed that I should have 
 been her friend. One is prejudiced at first 
 against people who are reported to have 
 such differences in feeling, associations, and 
 habit, as she seemed to have from mine. 
 But it has not stood in the least in the way 
 of our liking each other. I believe the differ- 
 ence makes us the more united." 
 
 "It says a great deal for the liberality of 
 both," answered Somerset warmly. "Heaven 
 send us more of the same sort of people ! 
 They are not too numerous at present." 
 
 As this remark called for no reply from 
 Miss De Stancy, she took advantage of an 
 opportunity to leave him alone, first repeating 
 her permission to him to wander where he 
 would. He walked about for some time, 
 sketch-book in hand, but was conscious that 
 his interest did not lie much in the architec- 
 ture. In passing along the corridor of an 
 upper floor he observed an open door, through 
 which was visible a room containing one of 
 
yo A LAODICEAN. 
 
 the finest Renaissance cabinets he had ever 
 seen. It was impossible, on close examina- 
 tion, to do justice to it in a hasty sketch ; it 
 would be necessary to measure every line, 
 and get impressions of every surface, if he 
 would bring away anything of practical utility 
 to him as a designer. Deciding to reserve 
 this gem for another opportunity he cast his 
 eyes round the room, and blushed a little. 
 Without knowing it he had intruded into the 
 absent Miss Paula's own particular set of 
 chambers, including a boudoir and sleeping 
 apartment. On the tables of the sitting- 
 room were most of the popular papers and 
 periodicals that he knew, not only English, 
 but from Paris, Italy, and America. Satirical 
 prints, though they did not unduly prepon- 
 derate, were not wanting. Besides these 
 there were books from a London circulating 
 library, paper-covered light literature in 
 French and choice Italian, and the latest 
 monthly reviews ; while between the two 
 windows stood the telegraph apparatus whose 
 wire had been the means of bringing him 
 hither. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 7 I 
 
 These things, ensconced amid so much of 
 the old and hoary, were as if a stray hour 
 from the nineteenth century had wandered 
 like a butterfly into the thirteenth, and lost 
 itself there. 
 
 The door between this ante-chamber and 
 
 the sleeping-room stood open. Without 
 
 venturing to cross the threshold, for he felt 
 
 that he would be abusing hospitality to go so 
 
 far, Somerset looked in for a moment. It 
 
 was a pretty place, and seemed to have been 
 
 hastily fitted up. In a corner, overhung by 
 
 a blue and white canopy of silk, was a little 
 
 cot, hardly large enough to impress the 
 
 character of bedroom upon the old place. 
 
 Upon a counterpane lay a parasol and a silk 
 
 neckerchief. On the other side of the room 
 
 was a tall mirror of startling newness, draped 
 
 like the bedstead, in blue and white. Thrown 
 
 at random upon the floor was a pair of satin 
 
 slippers that would have fitted Cinderella. 
 
 A dressing-gown lay across a settee ; and 
 
 opposite, upon a small easy-chair In the same 
 
 blue and white livery, were a Bible, the 
 
 Baptist Magazi7ie,V\[ diVdldiW on Infant Baptism, 
 
72 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Walford's County Families, and the Court 
 Journal. On and over the mantelpiece were 
 nicknacks of various descriptions, and photo- 
 graphic portraits of the artistic, scientific, and 
 literary celebrities of the day. 
 
 A dressing-room lay beyond ; but, becom- 
 ing conscious that his study of ancient archi- 
 tecture would hardly bear stretching further 
 In that direction without Injury to his morals, 
 Mr. Somerset retreated to the outside, pass- 
 ing by, without notice, the gem of Renais- 
 sance that had led him In. 
 
 " She affects blue," he was thinking. " Then 
 she Is fair." 
 
 On looking up, some time later, at the new 
 clock that told the seconds, he found that 
 the time at his disposal for work had flown 
 without his havlnof transferred a sinofle feature 
 of the building or furniture to his sketch- 
 book. He remained but a little longer that 
 day. Before leaving he sent in for permis- 
 sion to come again, and then walked across 
 the fields to the Inn at Sleeping-Green, re- 
 flecting less upon Miss De Stancy (so little 
 force of presence had she possessed) than 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 73 
 
 Upon the modern flov/er in a mediaeval flower- 
 pot whom Miss De Stancy's Information had 
 so vividly brought before him, and upon the 
 Incongruities that were dally shaping them- 
 selves In the world under the great modern 
 fluctuations of classes and creeds. 
 
 Somerset was still full of the subject when 
 he arrived at the end of his walk, and he 
 fancied that some loungers at the bar of the 
 Inn were discussing the heroine of the chapel- 
 scene just at the moment of his entry. On 
 this account, when the landlord came to clear 
 away the dinner, Somerset was led to Inquire 
 of him, by way of opening a conversation, if 
 there were many Baptists In the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 The landlord (who was a serious man on 
 the surface, though he occasionally smiled 
 beneath) replied that there were a great many 
 — far more than the average In country 
 parishes. " Even here, In my house, now," 
 he added, "when folks get a drop of drink 
 Into 'em, and their feelings rise to a song, 
 some man will strike up a hymn by prefer- 
 ence. Thouo^h, I find no fault with that ; for 
 
74 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 though 'tis hardly human nature to be so 
 calculating In yer cups, a feller may as well 
 sing to gain something as sing to waste." 
 
 " How do you account for there being so 
 many ? " 
 
 '' Well, you see, sir, some says one thing, 
 and some another ; I think they does It to 
 save the expense of a Christian burial for 
 their children. Now there's a poor family 
 out In Long Lane — the husband used to 
 smite for Jimmy More the blacksmith till a 
 hurt his arm — they'd have no less than 
 eleven children If they'd not been lucky 
 t'other way, and burled five when they were 
 three or four months old. Now every one 
 of them children was given to the sexton In 
 a little box that any journeyman could nail 
 together In a quarter of an hour, and he 
 burled 'em at night for a shilling a head ; 
 whereas 'twould have cost a couple of pounds 
 each If they'd been christened at church. . . . 
 Of course there's the new lady at the castle, 
 she's a chapel member, and that may make 
 a little difference ; but she's not been here 
 long enough to show whether 'twill be worth 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 75 
 
 while to join 'em for the profit o't, or whether 
 'twill not. No doubt if it turns out that 
 she's of a sort to relieve folks in trouble, 
 more will join her set than belongs to it 
 already. ' Any port in a storm,' of course, 
 as the saying is." 
 
 '' As for yourself, you are a Churchman at 
 present, I presume ? " 
 
 '* Yes, sir, but I was a Methodist once — 
 ay, for a length of time. 'Twas owing to 
 my taking a house next door to a chapel ; 
 so that what with hearing the organ bizz like 
 a bee through the wall, and what with find- 
 ing it saved umbrellas on wet Sundays, I 
 went over to that faith for two years — though 
 I believe I dropped money by it — I wouldn't 
 be the man to say so if I hadn't. Howsom- 
 ever, when I moved into this house I turned 
 back again to my old religion. Faith, I 
 don't see much difference : be you one, or 
 be you t'other, you've got to get your living." 
 
 *' The De Stancys, of course, have not 
 much influence here now, for that, or any 
 other thing ? " 
 
 '' Oh, no no ; not any at all. They be 
 
76 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 very low upon ground, and always will be 
 now, I suppose. It was though ted worthy 
 of being recorded in history — you've read 
 it, sir, no doubt ? " 
 
 " Not a word." 
 
 '' Oh, then, you shall. I've got the history 
 somewhere. 'Twas gay manners that did it. 
 The only bit of luck they have had of late 
 years is Miss Power's taking to little Miss 
 De Stancy, and making her her company- 
 keeper, I hope 'twill continue." 
 
 That the two daughters of these an- 
 tipodean families should be such intimate 
 friends was a situation which pleased Somer- 
 set as much as it did the landlord. It was 
 an engaging instance of that human progress 
 on which he had expended many charming 
 dreams in the years when poetry, theology, 
 and the reorganisation of society had seemed 
 matters of more importance to him than a 
 profession which should help him to a big 
 house and income, a fair Deiopeia, and a 
 lovely progeny. When he was alone he 
 poured out a glass of wine, and silently drank 
 the healths of the two generous-minded 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 77 
 
 young women who, in this lonely country 
 district, had found sweet communion a neces- 
 sity of life, and by pure and instinctive good 
 sense had broken down a barrier which men 
 thrice their age and repute would probably 
 have felt it imperative to maintain. But 
 perhaps this was premature : the omnipotent 
 Miss Power's character — practical or ideal, 
 politic or impulsive — he as yet knew nothing 
 of; and giving over reasoning from insuffi- 
 cient data he lapsed into mere conjecture. 
 
78 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The next morning Somerset was again at 
 the castle. He passed some considerable 
 interval on the walls before encountering 
 Miss De Stancy, whom at last he observed 
 going towards a pony-carriage that waited 
 near the door. 
 
 A smile gained strength upon her face at 
 his approach, and she was the first to speak. 
 '' I am sorry Miss Power has not returned," 
 she said to him, and proceeded to account 
 for that lady's absence by her distress at the 
 event of two evenings earlier. 
 
 " But I have driven over to my father's — 
 Sir William De Stancy's — house this morn- 
 ing," she went on. " And on mentioning 
 your name to him, I found he knew it quite 
 well. You will, will you not, forgive my 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 79 
 
 ignorance In having no better knowledge of 
 the elder Mr. Somerset's works than a dim 
 sense of his fame as a painter ? But I was 
 going to say that my father would much like 
 to include you in his personal acquaintance, 
 and wishes me to ask if you will give him 
 the pleasure of lunching with him to-day. 
 My cousin John, whom you once knew, was 
 a great favourite of his, and used to speak 
 of you sometimes. It will be so kind if you 
 can come. My father is an old man, out of 
 society, and he would be glad to hear the 
 news of town." 
 
 Somerset said he was glad to find himself 
 among friends where he had only expected 
 strangers ; and promised to come that day, 
 if she would tell him the way. 
 
 That she could easily do. The short way 
 was across that glade he saw there — then 
 over the stile into the wood, following the 
 path till it came out upon the turnpike-road. 
 He would then be almost close to the house. 
 The distance was about two miles and a 
 half. But if he thought it too far for a walk, 
 she would drive on to the town, where she 
 
8o A LAODICEAN. 
 
 had been going when he came, and instead 
 of returning straight to her father's would 
 come back and pick him up. 
 
 It was not at all necessary, he thought. 
 He was a walker, and could find the path. 
 
 At this moment a servant came to tell 
 Miss De Stancy that the telegraph was call- 
 ing her. 
 
 ''Ah — it is lucky that I was not gone 
 again ! " she exclaimed. "John seldom reads 
 it right if I am away." 
 
 It now seemed quite in the ordinary course 
 that, as a friend of her father's, he should 
 accompany her to the instrument. So up 
 they went together, and immediately on 
 reaching it she applied her ear to the instru- 
 ment, and began to gather the message. 
 Somerset fancied himself like a person over- 
 looking another's letter, and moved aside. 
 
 " It is no secret," she said, smiling. 
 " ' Paula to Charlotte' it begins." 
 
 " That's very pretty." 
 
 "• Oh — and it is about — you," murmured 
 Miss De Stancy, 
 
 " Me ? " The architect blushed a little. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 8 1 
 
 She made no answer, and the machine 
 went on with its story. There was some- 
 thing curious in watching this utterance 
 about himself, under his very nose, in lan- 
 guage unintelHglble to him. He conjectured 
 whether it were inquiry, praise, or blame, 
 with a sense that it might reasonably be the 
 latter, as the result of his surreptitious look 
 into that blue bedroom, possibly observed 
 and reported by some servant of the house. 
 
 •" 'Direct that eveiy facility be given to Mr. 
 Soffierset to visit ajty part of the castle he may 
 wish to see. Ojt my return I shall be glad 
 to welcome him as the acqicaintance of your 
 relatives. I have two of his father s picttcres' " 
 
 " Dear me, the plot thickens," he said, 
 with surprise, as Miss De Stancy announced 
 the words. '' How could she know about 
 me?" 
 
 '' I sent a message to her this morning 
 when I saw you crossing the park on your 
 way here — telling her that Mr. Somerset, 
 son of the Academician, was making sketches 
 of the castle, and that my father knew some- 
 thing of you. That's her answer." 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '' Where are the pictures by my father that 
 she has purchased ? " 
 
 '' Oh, not here — at least, not unpacked." 
 
 Miss De Stancy then left him to proceed 
 on her journey to Markton (so the nearest 
 little town was called), informing him that 
 she would be at her father's house to receive 
 him at two o'clock. 
 
 Just about one he closed his sketch-book, 
 and set out in the direction she had indicated. 
 At the entrance to the wood a man was at 
 work, pulling down a rotten gate that bore 
 on its battered lock the initials "W. De S." 
 and erecting a new one whose ironmongery 
 exhibited the letters " P. P." 
 
 The warmth of the summer noon did not 
 inconveniently penetrate the dense masses 
 of foliage which now began to overhang the 
 path, except in spots where a ruthless timber- 
 felling had taken place in previous years 
 for the purpose of sale. It was that par- 
 ticular half-hour of the day in which the 
 birds of the forest prefer walking to flying ; 
 and there being no wind, the hopping of 
 the smallest songster over the dead leaves 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 83 
 
 reached his ear from behind the undergrowth. 
 The tract had originally been a well-kept 
 winding drive, but a deep carpet of moss 
 and leaves overlaid it now, though the 
 general outline still remained to show that 
 Its curves had been set out with as much 
 care as those of a lawn walk, and the gradient 
 made easy for carriages where the natural 
 slopes were great. Felled trunks occa- 
 sionally lay across it, and alongside were the 
 hollow and fungous boles of trees sawn down 
 in long-past years. 
 
 After a walk of three-quarters of an hour 
 he came to another gate, where the letters 
 " P. P." again supplanted the historical 
 " W. De S." Climbing over this, he found 
 himself on a highway which presently dipped 
 down towards the town of Markton, a place 
 he had never yet seen. It appeared in the 
 distance as a quiet little borough of six or 
 eight thousand inhabitants ; and, without the 
 town boundary on the side he was approach- 
 ing, stood half a dozen genteel and modern 
 houses, of the detached kind usually found in 
 such suburbs. On inquiry. Sir William De 
 
84 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Stancy's residence was Indicated as one of 
 these. 
 
 It was almost new, of streaked brick, 
 having a central door, and a small bay- 
 window on each side to light the two front 
 parlours. A little lawn spread its green 
 surface in front, divided from the road by 
 Iron railings, the low line of shrubs Imme- 
 diately within them being coated with pallid 
 dust from the highway. On the neat piers 
 of the neat entrance gate were chiselled the 
 words " Myrtle Villa." Genuine roadside 
 respectability sat smiling on every brick of 
 the eligible dwelling. 
 
 " How are the mighty fallen ! " murmured 
 Somerset, as he pulled the bell. 
 
 Perhaps that which impressed him more 
 than the mushroom modernism of Sir William 
 De Stancy's house was the air of healthful 
 cheerfulness which pervaded it. Somerset 
 was shown in by a neat maidservant in 
 black gown and white apron, a canary sing- 
 ing a welcome from a cage in the shadow 
 of the window, the voices of crowing cocks 
 coming over the chimneys from somewhere 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 85 
 
 behind, and sun and air riddlmg the house 
 everywhere. 
 
 Being a dwelling of those well-known and 
 popular dimensions which allow the proceed- 
 ings in the kitchen to be distinctly heard in 
 the parlours, it was so planned that a raking 
 view might be obtained through it from the 
 front door to the end of the back garden. 
 The drawing-room furniture was comfortable, 
 in the walnut-and-green-rep style of some 
 years ago. Somerset had expected to find 
 his friends living in an old house with 
 remnants of their own antique furniture, and 
 he hardly knew whether he ought to meet 
 them with a smile or a gaze of condolence. 
 His doubt was terminated, however, by the 
 cheerful and tripping entry of Miss De 
 Stancy, who had returned from her drive 
 to Markton ; and in a few more moments 
 Sir William came in from the garden. 
 
 He was an old man of tall arid spare 
 build, with a considerable stoop, his glasses 
 dangling against his waistcoat-buttons, and 
 the front corners of his coat-tails hanging 
 lower than the hinderparts, so that they 
 
86 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 swayed right and left as he walked. He 
 nervously apologised to his visitor for having 
 kept him waiting. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you," he said, with 
 a mild benevolence of tone, as he retained 
 Somerset's hand for a moment or two; *' partly 
 for your father's sake, whom I met more than 
 once in my younger days, before he became 
 so well-known ; and also because I learn that 
 you were a friend of my poor nephew John 
 Ravensbury." He looked over his shoulder 
 to see if his daughter were within hearing ; 
 finding she was not, he bent towards Somerset, 
 and, with the impulse of the solitary to make 
 a confidence at the first opportunity, con- 
 tinued in a low tone : '' She, poor girl, was 
 to have married John : his death was a sad 
 blow to her and to all of us. — Pray take a 
 seat, Mr. Somerset." 
 
 The reverses of fortune which had brought 
 Sir William De Stancy to this comfortable 
 cottage awakened In Somerset a warmer 
 emotion than curiosity, and he sat down 
 with a heart as responsive to each detail of 
 speech uttered as if it had seriously con- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. S"] 
 
 cerned himself, while his host gave some 
 words of information to his daughter on the 
 trifling events that had marked the morning 
 just passed ; such as that the cow had got 
 out of the paddock into Miss Power's field, 
 that the smith who had promised to come 
 and look at the kitchen range had not arrived, 
 that two wasps' nests had been discovered in 
 the garden bank, and that Nick Jones's baby- 
 had fallen downstairs. Sir William had large 
 cavernous arches to his eye-sockets, remind- 
 ing the beholder of the vaults in the castle 
 he once had owned. His hands were long 
 and almost fleshless, each knuckle showing 
 like a bamboo-joint from beneath his coat- 
 sleeves, which were small at the elbow and 
 large at the wrist. All the colour had gone 
 from his beard and locks, except in the case 
 of a few isolated hairs of the former, which 
 retained dashes of their original shade at 
 sudden points in their length, revealing that 
 all had once been raven black. 
 
 But to study a man to his face is a species 
 of ill-nature which requires a colder tem- 
 perament, or at least an older heart, than the 
 
SS A LAODICEAN. 
 
 architect's was at that time, to carry it on 
 long. Incurious unobservance is the true 
 attitude of cordiahty, and Somerset blamed 
 himself for having fallen into an act of in- 
 spection even for so short a time. He would 
 wait for his host's conversation, which would 
 doubtless be of the essence of historical 
 romance. 
 
 " The favourable Bank-returns have made 
 the money-market much easier to-day, as I 
 learn ? " said Sir William. 
 
 " Oh, have they ? " said Somerset. " Yes, 
 I suppose they have." 
 
 " And something is meant by this unusual 
 quietness in Foreign stocks since the late re- 
 markable fluctuations," insisted the old man, 
 significantly. ''Is the current of speculation 
 quite arrested, or is it but a temporary lull ? " 
 
 Somerset said he was afraid he could not 
 give an opinion, and entered very lamely 
 into the subject ; but Sir William seemed to 
 find sufficient interest in his own thoughts 
 to do away with the necessity of acquiring 
 fresh impressions from other people's replies ; 
 for often after putting a question he looked 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 89 
 
 on the floor, as If the subject were at an 
 end. Lunch was now ready, and when they 
 were In the dIning--room Miss De Stancy, to 
 introduce a topic of more general Interest, 
 asked Somerset If he had noticed the myrtle 
 on the lawn ? 
 
 Somerset had noticed It, and thought he 
 had never seen such a full-blown one In the 
 open air before. His eyes were, however, 
 resting at the moment on the only objects 
 at all out of the common that the dining- 
 room contained. One was a singular glass 
 case over the fireplace, within which were 
 some large mediaeval door-keys, black with 
 rust and age ; and the others were two full- 
 length oil portraits In the costume of the end 
 of the last century — so out of all proportion 
 to the size of the room they occupied that 
 they almost reached to the floor. 
 
 '' Those originally belonged to the castle 
 yonder," said Miss De Stancy, or Charlotte, 
 as her father called her, noticing Somerset's 
 glance at the keys. " They used to unlock 
 the principal entrance -doors, which were 
 knocked to pieces In the civil wars. New 
 
90 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 doors were placed afterwards, but the old 
 keys were never given up, and have been 
 preserved by us ever since." 
 
 '' They are quite useless — mere lumber — 
 particularly to me," said Sir William. 
 
 '' And those huge paintings were a present 
 from Paula," she continued. " They are 
 portraits of my great-grandfather and mother. 
 Paula would give all the old family pictures 
 back to me if we had room for them ; but 
 they would fill the house to the ceilings." 
 
 Sir William was impatient of the subject. 
 '' What is the utility of such accumulations ? " 
 he asked. '' Their originals are but clay 
 now — mere forgotten dust, not worthy a 
 moment's inquiry or reflection at this distance 
 of time. Nothing can retain the spirit, and 
 why should we preserve the shadow of the 
 form ? — London has been very full this year, 
 sir, I have been told ? " 
 
 " It has," said Somerset, and he asked if 
 they had been up that season. It was plain 
 that the matter with which Sir William De 
 Stancy least cared to occupy himself before 
 visitors was the history of his own family. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 9 1 
 
 in which he was followed with more simplicity 
 by his daughter Charlotte. 
 
 ** No," said the baronet. '' One might be 
 led to think there is a fatality which prevents 
 it. We make arrangements to go to town 
 almost every year, to meet some old friend 
 who combines the rare conditions of being 
 in London with being mindful of me ; but 
 he has always died or gone elsewhere before 
 the event has taken place. . . . But with a 
 disposition to be happy, it is neither this 
 place nor the other that can render us the 
 reverse. In short, each man's happiness 
 depends upon himself, and his ability for 
 doing with little." He turned more par- 
 ticularly to Somerset, and added with an 
 impressive smile : " I hope you cultivate the 
 art of doing with little ? " 
 
 Somerset said that he certainly did cultivate 
 that art, partly because he was obliged to. 
 
 *' Ah, — you don't mean to the extent that 
 I mean. The world has not yet learned the 
 riches of frugality, says, I think, Cicero some- 
 where ; and nobody can testify to the truth 
 of that remark better than I. If a man 
 
92 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 knows how to spend less than his income, 
 however small that may be, why — he has 
 the philosopher's stone." And Sir William 
 looked in Somerset's face with frugality 
 written in every pore of his own, as much 
 as to say, '' And here you see one who has 
 been a living instance of those principles 
 from his youth up." 
 
 Somerset soon found that whatever turn 
 the conversation took, Sir William invariably 
 reverted to this topic of frugality. When 
 luncheon was over he asked his visitor to 
 walk with him into the garden, and no sooner 
 were they alone, than he continued : " Well, 
 Mr. Somerset, you are down here sketching 
 architecture for professional purposes. No- 
 thing can be better : you are a young man, 
 and your art is one in which there are in- 
 numerable chances." 
 
 " I had begun to think they were rather 
 few," said Somerset. 
 
 '' No, they are numerous enough : the 
 difficulty is to find out where they lie. It is 
 better to know where your luck lies than 
 where your talent lies : that's an old man's 
 opinion." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 93 
 
 " ril remember it," said Somerset. 
 
 '' And now give me some account of your 
 new clubs, new hotels, and new men. . . . 
 What I was going to add, on the subject of 
 finding out where your luck lies. Is that 
 nobody Is so unfortunate as not to have a 
 lucky star in some direction or other. 
 Perhaps yours is at the antipodes ; If so, go 
 there. All I say Is, discover your lucky 
 star." 
 
 " I am looking for It." ^ 
 
 " You may be able to do two things ; one 
 well, the other but Indifferently, and yet you 
 may have more luck in the latter. Then 
 stick to that one, and never mind what you 
 can do best. Your star lies there." 
 
 *' There I am not quite at one with you. 
 Sir William." 
 
 " You should be. Not that I mean to say 
 that luck lies In any one place long, or at any 
 one person's door. Fortune likes new faces, 
 and your wisdom lies In bringing your ac- 
 quisitions into safety while her favour lasts. 
 To do that you must make friends In her 
 time of smiles — make friends with people. 
 
94 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 wherever you find them. My daughter has 
 unconsciously followed that maxim. She has 
 struck up a warm friendship with our neigh- 
 bour, Miss Power, at the castle. We are 
 diametrically different from her in associa- 
 tions, traditions, ideas, religion — she comes 
 of a violent dissenting family among other 
 things — but I say to Charlotte what I say to 
 you : win affection and regard wiierever you 
 can, and accommodate yourself to the times. 
 I Dut nothing in the way of their intimacy, 
 and wisely so, for by this so many pleasant 
 hours are added to the sum total vouchsafed 
 to humanity." 
 
 It was quite late in the afternoon when 
 Somerset took his leave. Miss De Stancy 
 did not return to the castle that night, and he 
 walked through the wood as he had come, 
 feeling that he had been talking with a man 
 of simple nature, who flattered his own under- 
 standing by devising^achiavellian theories 
 after the event, to account for any spontaneous 
 action of himself, or his daughter, which might 
 otherwise seem eccentric or irregular. 
 
 Before Somerset reached the inn he was 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 95 
 
 overtaken by a slight shower, and on entering 
 the house he walked Into the general room, 
 where there was a fire, and stood with one 
 foot on the fender. The landlord was talking 
 ^o some guest who sat behind a screen ; and, 
 probably because Somerset had been seen 
 passing the window, and was known to be 
 sketchinof at the castle, the conversation 
 turned on Sir William De Stancy. 
 
 " I have often noticed," observed the land- 
 lord, " that folks who have come to grief, a|id 
 quite failed, have the rules how to succeed in 
 life more at their fingers' ends than folks who 
 have succeeded. I assure you that Sir 
 William, so full as he is of wise maxims, never 
 acted upon a wise maxim in his life, until 
 he had lost everything, and it didn't matter 
 whether he was wise or no. You know what 
 he was in his young days, of course ? " 
 
 '' No, I don't," said the Invisible stranger. 
 
 " Oh, I thought everybody knew poor Sir 
 William's history. He was the star, as I 
 may say, of fashion forty years ago. I re- 
 member him In the height of his splendour, 
 as I used to see him when I was a very little 
 
96 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 boy, and think how great and wonderful he 
 was. I can seem to see now the exact style 
 of his clothes ; it was always of a very light 
 colour — a neat white hat, white trousers, 
 white silk handkerchief ; ay, and his hand- 
 some face, as white as his clothes with keep- 
 ing late hours. There was nothing black 
 about him but his hair and his eyes — he wore 
 no beard at that time — and they were black 
 indeed. The like of his style of coming on 
 the race-course was never seen there before 
 nor since. He drove his barouche himself ; and 
 it was always drawn by four beautiful white 
 horses, and two outriders on matches to 'em, 
 rode in harness bridles. In his rear was a 
 saddle-horse groom leading a thoroughbred 
 hack, and at the rubbing-post was another 
 groom — all in splendid liveries — waiting with 
 another hack. What a 'stablishment he kept 
 up at that time ! I can mind him, sir, with 
 thirty race-horses in training at once, seven- 
 teen coach-horses, twelve hunters at his box 
 t'other side of London, four chargers at Bud- 
 mouth, and ever so many hacks." 
 
 '' And he lost all by his racing specula- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 97 
 
 tions ? " the stranger observed ; and Somerset 
 fancied that the voice had in it something 
 more than the languid carelessness of a casual 
 sojourner. 
 
 " Partly by that, partly in other ways. He 
 spent a mint o' money in a visionary project 
 of founding a watering-place ; and sunk thou- 
 sands in a useless silver mine ; so 'twas no 
 surprise that the castle that bears his name 
 passed into other hands. . . . The way it 
 was done was curious. Mr. Wilkins, who 
 was the first owner after it went from Sir 
 William, actually sat down as a guest at his 
 table, and got up as the owner. He took off, 
 at a round sum, everything saleable, furniture, 
 plate, pictures, even the milk and butter in 
 the dairy. That's how the pictures and 
 furniture come to be in the castle still ; worm- 
 eaten rubbish some of it, and hardly worth 
 moving." 
 
 "And off went the baronet to Myrtle 
 Villa?" 
 
 " Oh no ! he went away for many years. 
 'Tis quite recently, since his illness, that he 
 came to that little place, within sight of the 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 buildings that once were the pride of his 
 ancestors and himself." 
 
 '' From what I hear, he has not the manner 
 of a broken-hearted man ? " 
 
 " Not at all. Since that severe illness he 
 has been happy, as you see him ; no pride or 
 regret, quite calm and mild ; at new moon 
 quite childish. 'Tis that makes him able to 
 live there : before he was so ill he couldn't 
 bear a sight of the place ; but since then he 
 is happy nowhere else, and never leaves the 
 parish further than to drive once a week to 
 Markton. His head won't stand society 
 nowadays, and he lives quite lonely as you 
 see, only seeing his daughter, or his son 
 whenever he comes home, which is not often. 
 They say that if his brain hadn't softened a 
 little he would ha' died — 'twas that saved his 
 life." 
 
 " What's this I hear about his daughter ? 
 Is she really hired companion to the new 
 owner ? " 
 
 " Now that's a curious thing again, these 
 two girls being so fond of one another ; one 
 of 'em a dissenter, and all that, and the other 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 99 
 
 a De Stancy. Oh no, not hired exactly, but 
 she mostly lives with Miss Power, and goes 
 about with her, and I dare say Miss Power 
 makes It worth her while. One can't move a 
 step without the other following ; though 
 judging by ordinary folks you'd think 'twould 
 be a cat and dog friendship rather." 
 
 '' But 'tis not ? " 
 
 " 'TIs not ; they are more like lovers than 
 girl and girl. Miss Power Is looked up to 
 by little De Stancy as If she were a god- 
 a'mlghty, and Miss Power lets her love her 
 to her heart's content. But whether Miss 
 Power loves back again I can't say, for she's 
 as deep as the North Star." 
 
 The landlord here left the stranger to go 
 to some other part of the house, and Somer- 
 set drew near to the glass partition to gain 
 a glimpse of a man whose Interest In the 
 nelofhbourhood seemed to have arisen so 
 simultaneously with his own. But the Inner 
 room was empty : the man had apparently 
 departed by another door. 
 
lOO A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The telegraph had almost the attributes of a 
 human being at Stancy Castle. When Its 
 bell rang people rushed to the old tapestried 
 chamber allotted to It, and waited its pleasure 
 with all the deference due to such a novel 
 inhabitant of that ancestral pile. This hap- 
 pened on the following afternoon about four 
 o'clock, while Somerset was sketching In the 
 room adjoining that occupied by the instru- 
 ment. Hearing Its call, he looked In to learn 
 if anybody were attending, and found Miss 
 De Stancy bending over It. 
 
 She welcomed him without the least em- 
 barrassment. '' Another message," she said. 
 — " ' Paula to Charlotte. — Have returned to 
 Markton. Am starting for home. Will be 
 a^ the gate between four and five if possible! " 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. lOI 
 
 Miss De Stancy blushed with pleasure 
 when she raised her eyes from the machine. 
 "Is she not thoughtful to let me know before- 
 hand?" 
 
 Somerset said she certainly appeared to 
 be, feeling at the same time that he was not 
 in possession of sufficient data to make the 
 opinion of great value. 
 
 "Now I must get everything ready, and 
 order what she will want, as Mrs. Goodman 
 is away. What will she want ? Dinner 
 would be best — she has had no lunch, I 
 know ; or tea perhaps, and dinner at the 
 usual time. Still, if she has had no lunch 
 — Hark, what do I hear ? " 
 
 She ran to an arrow-slit, and Somerset, 
 who had also heard something, looked out of 
 an adjoining one. They could see from 
 their elevated position a great way along the 
 white road, stretching like a tape amid the 
 green expanses on each side. There had 
 arisen a cloud of dust, accompanied by a 
 noise of wheels. 
 
 " It is she," said Charlotte. " Oh yes — it 
 is past four — the telegram has been delayed." 
 
102 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '' How would she be likely to come ?" 
 
 '' She has doubtless hired a carnage at 
 the Kinof's Arms : she said it would be use- 
 less to send to meet her, as she couldn't 
 name a time. . . . Where is she now ? " 
 
 *' Just where the boughs of those beeches 
 overhang the road — there she is again ! " 
 
 Miss De Stancy went away to give direc- 
 tions, and Somerset continued to watch. 
 The vehicle, which was of no great preten- 
 sion, soon crossed the bridge and stopped : 
 there was a ring at the bell ; and Miss De 
 Stancy reappeared. 
 
 " Did you see her as she drove up — is she 
 not interesting ? " 
 
 " I could not see her." 
 
 " Ah, no — of course you could not from 
 this window because of the tree. Mr. Somer- 
 set, will you come downstairs ? You will 
 have to meet her, you know." 
 
 Somerset felt an indescribable backward- 
 ness. '* I will go on with my sketching," he 
 said. " Perhaps she will not be " 
 
 '' Oh, but it would be quite natural, would 
 it not ? Our manners are easier here, you 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. IO3 
 
 know, than they are in town, and Miss 
 Power has adapted herself to them." 
 
 A compromise was effected by Somerset 
 declaring that he would hold himself in readi- 
 ness to be discovered on the landing at any 
 convenient time. 
 
 A servant entered. ''Miss Power?" said 
 Miss De Stancy, before he could speak. 
 
 The man advanced with a card : Miss De 
 Stancy took it up, and read thereon : " Mr. 
 William Dare." 
 
 "It is not Miss Power who has come, 
 then ? " she asked, with a disappointed face. 
 
 '' No, ma'am." 
 
 She looked again at the card. '' This 
 is some man of business, I suppose — does 
 he want to see me ? " 
 
 '' Yes, miss. Leastwise, he would be glad 
 to see you if Miss Power is not at home." 
 
 Miss De Stancy left the room, and soon 
 returned, saying, '' Mr. Somerset, can you 
 give me your counsel in this matter ? This 
 Mr. Dare says he is a photographic amateur, 
 and it seems that he wrote some time ago 
 to Miss Power, who gave him permission to 
 
I04 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 take views of the castle, and promised to 
 show him the best points. But I have heard 
 nothing of it, and scarcely know whether I 
 ought to take his word in her absence. Mrs. 
 Goodman, Miss Power's relative, who usually 
 attends to these things, is away." 
 
 " I dare say it is all right," said Somerset. 
 
 " Would you mind seeing him ? If you 
 think it quite in order, perhaps you will 
 instruct him where the best views are to be 
 obtained ? " 
 
 Thereupon Somerset at once went down 
 to Mr. Dare. His coming as a sort of 
 counterfeit of Miss Power disposed Somerset 
 to judge him with as much severity as justice 
 would allow, and his manner for the moment 
 was not of a kind calculated to dissipate 
 antagonistic instincts. Mr. Dare was stand- 
 ing before the fireplace with his feet wide 
 apart, and his hands in the pockets of his 
 coat-tails, looking at a carving over the 
 mantelpiece. He turned quickly at the sound 
 of Somerset's footsteps, and revealed himself 
 as a person quite out of the common. 
 
 His age it was impossible to say. There 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. IO5 
 
 was not a hair upon his face which could 
 serve to hang a guess upon. In repose he 
 appeared a boy ; but his actions were so 
 completely those of a man that the beholder's 
 first estimate of sixteen as his age was hastily 
 corrected to six-and-twenty, and afterwards 
 shifted hither and thither along intervening 
 years as the tenor of his sentences sent him 
 up or down. He had a broad forehead, 
 vertical as the face of a bastion, and his 
 hair, which was parted in the middle, hung 
 as a fringe or valance above, in the fashion 
 sometimes affected by the other sex. He 
 wore a heavy ring, of which the gold seemed 
 good, the diamond questionable, and the taste 
 indifferent. There were the remains of a 
 swagger in his body and limbs as he came 
 forward, regarding Somerset with a confident 
 smile, as if the wonder were, not why Mr. 
 Dare should be present, but why Somerset 
 should be present likewise ; and the first tone 
 that came from Dare's lips wound up his 
 listener's opinion that he did not like him. 
 
 A latent power in the man, or boy, was 
 revealed by the circumstance that Somerset 
 
I06 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 did not feel, as he would ordinarily have 
 done, that it was a matter of profound in- 
 difference to him whether this gentleman- 
 photographer were a likeable person or no. 
 
 " I have called by appointment ; or rather, 
 I left a card stating that to-day would suit 
 me, and no objection was made?" Somerset 
 recognised the voice ; it was that of the 
 invisible stranger who had talked with the 
 landlord about the De Stancys. Mr. Dare 
 then proceeded to explain his business. 
 
 Somerset found from his inquiries that the 
 man had unquestionably been instructed by 
 somebody to take the views he spoke of; 
 and concluded that Dare's curiosity at the 
 inn was, after all, naturally explained by his 
 errand to this place. Blaming himself for a 
 too hasty condemnation of the stranger, who 
 though visually a little too assured was civil 
 enough verbally, Somerset proceeded with 
 the young photographer to sundry corners of 
 the outer ward, and thence across the moat 
 to the field, suggesting advantageous points 
 of view. The office, being a shadow of his 
 own pursuits, was not uncongenial to Somer- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. IO7 
 
 set, and he forgot other things In attending 
 to It. 
 
 '* Now In our country we should stand 
 further back than this, and so get a more 
 comprehensive coup d'ceiV,' said Dare, as 
 Somerset selected a good situation. 
 
 " You are not an Englishman, then," said 
 Somerset. 
 
 '' I have lived mostly In India, Malta, 
 Gibraltar, the Ionian Islands, and Canada. 
 I there Invented a new photographic process, 
 which I am bent upon making famous. Yet 
 I am but a dilettante, and do not follow this 
 art at the base dictation of what men call 
 necessity." 
 
 '' Oh, Indeed," Somerset replied. 
 
 As soon as this business was disposed of, 
 and Mr. Dare had brought up his van and 
 assistant to begin operations, Somerset re- 
 turned to the castle entrance. While under 
 the archway a man with a professional look 
 drove up In a dog-cart and inquired if Miss 
 Power were at home to-day. 
 
 " She has not yet returned, Mr. Havlll," 
 was the reply. 
 
I08 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Somerset, who had hoped to hear an 
 affirmative by this time, thought that Miss 
 Power was bent on disappointing him in the 
 flesh, notwithstanding the interest she ex- 
 pressed in him by telegraph ; and as it was 
 now drawing towards the end of the after- 
 noon, he walked off in the direction of his inn. 
 
 There were two or three ways to that 
 spot, but the pleasantest was by passing 
 through a rambling shrubbery, between whose 
 bushes trickled a broad shallow brook, occa- 
 sionally intercepted in its course by a trans- 
 verse chain of old stones, evidently from the 
 castle walls, which formed a miniature water- 
 fall. The walk lay along the river brink. 
 Soon Somerset saw before him a circular 
 summer-house formed of short sticks nailed 
 to ornamental patterns. Outside the struc- 
 ture, and immediately in the path, stood a 
 man with a book in his hand ; and it was 
 presently apparent that this gentleman was 
 holding a conversation with some person 
 inside the pavilion, but the back of the 
 building being towards Somerset, the second 
 individual could not be seen. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. IO9 
 
 The speaker at one moment glanced Into 
 the interior, and at another at the advancing 
 form of the architect, whom, though distinctly 
 enough beheld, the other scarcely appeared 
 to heed in the absorbing interest of his own 
 discourse. Somerset became aware that it 
 was the Baptist minister, whose rhetoric he 
 had heard In the chapel yonder. 
 
 " Now," continued the Baptist rninister, 
 *' will you express to me any reason or 
 objection whatever which induces you to 
 withdraw from our communion ? It was 
 that of your father, and of his father before 
 him. Any difficulty you may have met with, 
 I will honestly try to remove ; for I need 
 hardly say that in losing you we lose one 
 of the most valued members of the Baptist 
 church In this district. I speak with all the 
 respect due to your position, when I ask you 
 to realise how Irreparable is the Injury you 
 inflict upon the cause here by this lukewarm 
 backwardness." 
 
 " I don't withdraw," said a woman's low 
 voice within. 
 
 '' What do you do ? " 
 
no A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '' I decline to attend for the present." 
 
 " And you can give no reason for this ? " 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Or for your refusal to proceed with the 
 baptism ? " 
 
 '' I have been christened." 
 
 '' My dear young lady, it is well known 
 that your christening was the work of your 
 aunt, who did it unknown to your parents 
 when she had you in her power, out of pure 
 obstinacy to a church with which she was 
 not in sympathy, taking you surreptitiously, 
 and indefensibly, to the font of the Establish- 
 ment ; so that the rite meant and could mean 
 nothing at all. . . . But I fear that your 
 new position has brought you into contact 
 with the Psedobaptists, that they have dis- 
 turbed your old principles, and so induced 
 you to believe in the validity of that trumpery 
 ceremony ! " 
 
 *' It seems sufficient." 
 
 '' I will demolish the basis of that seeming 
 in three minutes, give me but that time as a 
 listener." 
 
 " I have no objection." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. Ill 
 
 " Very well. . . . First, then, I will assume 
 that those who have influenced you in the 
 matter have not been able to make any 
 impression, upon one so well grounded as 
 yourself in our distinctive doctrine, by the 
 stale old argument drawn from Circum- 
 cision ? " 
 
 " You may assume It." 
 
 " Good — that clears the ground. And we 
 now come to the New Testament." 
 
 The minister began to turn over the leaves 
 of his little Bible, which it Impressed Somer- 
 set to observe was bound with a flap, like a 
 pocket-book, the black surface of the leather 
 being worn brown at the corners by long 
 usage. He turned on till he came to the 
 beginning of the New Testament, and then 
 commenced his discourse. After explaining 
 his position, the old man ran very ably 
 through the arguments, citing well-known 
 writers on the point in dispute when he 
 required more finished sentences than his 
 own. 
 
 The minister's earnestness and interest In 
 his own case led him unconsciously to include 
 
112 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Somerset in his audience as the young man 
 drew nearer ; till, instead of fixing his eyes 
 exclusively on the person within the summer- 
 house, the preacher began to direct a good 
 proportion of his discourse upon his new 
 auditor, turning from one listener to the 
 other attentively, without seeming to feel 
 Somerset's presence as superfluous. 
 
 " And now," he said in conclusion, '' I put 
 it to you, sir, as to her : do you find any 
 flaw in my argument ? Is there, madam, 
 a single text which, honestly Interpreted, 
 affords the least foothold for the Paedo- 
 baptists ; in other words, for your opinion 
 on the efficacy of the rite administered to 
 you In your unconscious Infancy ? I put it 
 to you both as honest and responsible beings." 
 He turned again to the young man. 
 
 It happened that Somerset had been over 
 this ground long ago. Born, so to speak, 
 a High-Church Infant, in his youth he had 
 been of a thoughtful turn, till at one time 
 an idea of his entering the Church had been 
 entertained by his parents. He had formed 
 acquaintances with men of almost every 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. II3 
 
 variety of doctrinal practice in this country ; 
 and, as the pleadings of each assailed him 
 before he had arrived at an aore of sufficient 
 
 o 
 
 mental stability to resist new impressions, 
 however badly substantiated, he inclined to 
 each denomination as it presented itself, was 
 
 Evetything by starts, and nothing long, 
 
 till he had travelled through a great many 
 beliefs and doctrines without feeling himself 
 much better than when he set out. 
 
 Fully conscious of the inexpediency of 
 contests on minor ritual differences, he yet 
 felt a sudden impulse towards a mild Intel- 
 lectual tournament with the eager old man — 
 to do now, purely as an exercise of his wits 
 In the defence of a fair girl, what he had 
 once done with all the earnestness of a lad 
 fighting for vital principles and not quite able 
 to maintain them. 
 
 " Sir, I accept your challenge to us," said 
 Somerset, advancing to the ministers side. 
 
 VOL. 
 
I 14 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 At the sound of a new voice the lady In the 
 bower started, as he could see by her outline 
 through the crevices of the woodwork and 
 creepers. The minister looked surprised. 
 
 " You will lend me your Bible, sir, to assist 
 my memory ? " he continued. 
 
 The minister held out the Bible with some 
 reluctance, but he allowed Somerset to take It 
 from his hand. The latter, stepping upon a 
 large moss-covered stone which stood near, 
 and laying his hat on a flat beech bough that 
 rose and fell behind him, pointed to the 
 minister to seat himself on the grass. The 
 minister looked at the grass, and looked up 
 ao^aln at Somerset, but did not move. 
 
 Somerset for the moment was not observing 
 him. His new position had turned out to be 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. II5 
 
 exactly opposite the open side of the bower, 
 and now for the first time he beheld the 
 interior. On the seat was the woman who 
 had stood beneath his eyes in the chapel, the 
 ''Paula" of Miss De Stancy's enthusiastic 
 eulogies. She wore a summer hat, beneath 
 which her fair curly hair formed a thicket 
 round her forehead. It would be impossible 
 to describe her as she then appeared. Not 
 sensuous enough for an Aphrodite, and too 
 subdued for a Hebe, she would yet, with the 
 adjunct of doves or nectar, have stood suffi- 
 ciently well for either of those personages, if 
 presented in a pink morning light, and with 
 mythological scarcity of attire. 
 
 Half in surprise she glanced up at him ; 
 and lowering her eyes again, as if no surprise 
 were ever let influence her actions for more 
 than a moment, she sat on as before, looking 
 past Somerset's position at the view down 
 the river, visible for a long distance before 
 her till it was lost under the bending trees. 
 Somerset turned over the leaves of the minis- 
 ter's Bible, and began : 
 
 '* The words of my text are taken from the 
 
Il6 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 First Epistle to the Corinthians, the seventh 
 chapter and the fourteenth verse." 
 
 Here the young lady raised her eyes in 
 spite of her reserve, but it being apparently, 
 too much labour to keep them raised, allowed 
 her glance to subside upon her jet neck- 
 lace, extending it with the thumb of her left 
 hand. 
 
 '' Sir ! " said the Baptist excitedly, " I know 
 that passage well — it is the last refuge of the 
 Psedobaptists — I foresee your argument. I 
 have met it dozens of times, and it is not 
 worth that snap of the fingers ! It is worth 
 no more than the argument from Circum- 
 cision, or the Suffer-little-children argument." 
 
 '' Then turn to the sixteenth chapter of the 
 Acts, and the thirty-third " 
 
 "That, too," cried the minister, ''is answered 
 by what I said before ! I perceive, sir, that 
 you adopt the method of a special pleader, 
 and not that of an honest inquirer. Is it, or is 
 it not, an answer to my proofs from the eighth 
 chapter of the Acts, the thirty-sixth and 
 thirty-seventh verses ; the sixteenth of Mark, 
 sixteenth verse ; second of Acts, forty -first 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. II J 
 
 verse ; the tenth and the forty-seventh verse ; 
 or the eighteenth and eighth verse ? " 
 
 '' Very well, then : I will not stick to my 
 text, since you are predetermined not to be 
 convinced by my sermon. Let me prove the 
 point by other reasoning — by the argument 
 from Apostolic tradition." He threw the 
 minister's book upon the grass, and proceeded 
 with his contention at length, which com- 
 prised : 
 
 First : A lucid discourse on the earliest 
 practice of the Church. 
 
 Secondly : Inferences from the same, to 
 wit ; that the inquiry being about a fact which 
 could not but be publicly and perfectly known 
 in the ages immediately succeeding that of 
 the Apostles, the sense of those ages con- 
 cerning this fact must needs be nearly con- 
 clusive. 
 
 (When he reached this point an interest in 
 his ingenious argument was revealed in spite 
 of herself by the mobile bosom of Miss Paula 
 Power, though otherwise she still occupied 
 herself by drawing out the necklace.) 
 
 Thirdly : Testimony from Justin Martyr 
 
Il8 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 as to persons who were proselyted or made 
 disciples from their infancy. 
 
 Fourthly : Inference from Irenseus In the 
 expression, *' Omnes enim venit per semetlp- 
 sum salvare ; omnes Inquam, qui per eum 
 renascuntur in Deum, infantes et parvulos et 
 pueros et juvenes." 
 
 (At the sound of so much learning Paula 
 turned her eyes upon the speaker with atten- 
 tion.) 
 
 Fifthly : Proof of the signification of " re- 
 nascor" In the writings of the Fathers, as 
 reasoned by Wall. 
 
 Sixthly : Argument from Tertulllan's advice 
 to defer the rite. 
 
 Seventhly : Citations from Cyprian, Cle- 
 mens Alexandrlnus, Nazlanzen, Basil, Am- 
 brose, Chrysostom, and Jerome. 
 
 Eighthly : A summing up of the whole 
 matter. 
 
 Somerset looked round for the minister 
 as he concluded the address, which had 
 occupied about fifteen minutes in delivery. 
 The old man had, after standing face to face 
 with the speaker, gradually turned his back 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. IIQ 
 
 Upon him, and during the latter portions of 
 the discourse had moved slowly away. He 
 now looked back ; his countenance was full 
 of commiserating reproach as he lifted his 
 hand, twice shook his head, and said, *' In the 
 Epistle to the Philippians, first chapter and 
 sixteenth verse, it is written that there are 
 some who preach in contention, and not sin- 
 cerely. And in the Second Epistle to 
 Timothy, fourth chapter and fourth verse, 
 attention is drawn to those whose ears refuse 
 the truth, and are turned unto fables. I wish 
 you good-afternoon, sir, and that priceless 
 gift, sincerity y 
 
 The minister vanished behind the trees ; 
 Somerset and Miss Power being left con- 
 fronting each other alone. 
 
 Somerset stepped down from the stone, 
 hat in hand, at the same moment in which 
 Miss Power rose from her seat. She hesi- 
 tated for an instant, and said, with a pretty 
 girlish dignity, sweeping back the skirt of her 
 dress to free her toes in turning, " Although 
 you are personally unknown to me, I cannot 
 leave you without expressing my deep sense 
 
I20 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 of your profound scholarship, and my admira- 
 tion for the thoroughness of your studies in 
 divinity." 
 
 *' Your opinion gives me great pleasure," 
 said Somerset, bowing, and fairly blushing. 
 *' But, believe me, I am no scholar, and no 
 theologian. My knowledge of the subject 
 arises simply from the accident that some few 
 years ago I looked into the question on my 
 own account, and some of the arguments I 
 then learnt up still remain with me." 
 
 ''If your sermons at the church only match 
 your address to-day, I shall not wonder at 
 hearing that the parishioners are at last 
 willing to attend." 
 
 It flashed upon Somerset's mind that she 
 supposed him to be the new curate, of whose 
 arrival he had casually heard, during his 
 sojourn at the inn. Before he could bring 
 himself to correct an error to which, perhaps, 
 more than to anything else, was owing the 
 friendliness of her manner, she went on, as if 
 to escape the embarrassment of silence : 
 
 " I need hardly say that I at least do not 
 doubt the sincerity of your arguments." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 121 
 
 *' Nevertheless, I was not altogether sin- 
 cere," he answered. 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " Then why should you have delivered 
 such a defence of me ?" she asked with simple 
 curiosity. 
 
 Somerset involuntarily looked in her face 
 for his answer. 
 
 Paula again teased the necklace. " Would 
 you have spoken so eloquently on the other 
 side if I — if occasion had served ? " she in- 
 quired shyly. 
 
 ** Perhaps I would." 
 
 Another pause, till she said, " I, too, was 
 insincere." 
 
 '' You ? " 
 
 '' I was." 
 
 ''In what way ? " 
 
 ''In letting him, and you, think I had been 
 at all influenced by authority, scriptural or 
 patristic." 
 
 " May I ask, why, then, did you decline the 
 ceremony the other evening ? " 
 
 " Ah, you, too, have heard of it ?'' she said 
 quickly. 
 
122 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '^ No." 
 
 " What then ? '^ 
 
 '' I saw it." 
 
 She blushed and looked past him down the 
 river. '' I cannot give my reasons," she said. 
 
 " Of course not/' said Somerset respectfully. 
 
 *' I would give a great deal to possess real 
 logical dogmatism.'' 
 
 '' So would I." 
 
 There was a moment of embarrassment : 
 she wanted to get away, but did not precisely 
 know how. He would have withdrawn had 
 she not said, as if rather oppressed by her 
 conscience, and evidently still thinking him 
 the curate : " I cannot but feel that Mr. 
 Woodwell's heart has been unnecessarily 
 wounded." 
 
 '' The minister's ? " 
 
 ''Yes. He is single-mindedness itself. 
 He gives away nearly all he has to the poor. 
 He works among the sick, carrying them 
 necessaries with his own hands. He teaches 
 the ignorant men and lads of the village 
 when he ought to be resting at home, till he 
 is absolutely prostrate from exhaustion, and 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 23 
 
 then he sits up at night writing encouraging 
 letters to those poor people who formerly 
 belonged to his congregation in the village, 
 and have now gone away. He always 
 offends ladies, because he can't help speaking 
 the truth as he believes it ; but he hasn't 
 offended me ! " 
 
 Her feelings had risen towards the end, 
 so that she finished quite warmly, and turned 
 aside. 
 
 '' I was not in the least aware that he was 
 such a man," murmured Somerset, looking 
 wistfully after the minister. ..." Whatever 
 you may have done, I fear that I have 
 grievously wounded a worthy man's heart 
 from an idle wish to engage in a useless, un- 
 becoming, dull, last-century argument." 
 
 " Not dull," she murmured, '' for it in- 
 terested me." 
 
 Somerset accepted her correction willingly. 
 '' It was ill-considered of me, however," 
 he said ; " and in his distress he has for- 
 gotten his Bible." He went and picked up 
 the worn volume from where it lay on the 
 grass. 
 
124 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 " You can easily win him to forgive you, 
 by just following, and returning the book to 
 him," she observed. 
 
 '' I will," said the young man impulsively. 
 And, bowing to her, he hastened along the 
 river brink after the minister. He walked 
 some distance, and at length saw his friend 
 before him, leaning over the gate which led 
 from the private path into a lane, his cheek 
 resting on the palm of his hand with every 
 outward sign of abstraction. He was not 
 conscious of Somerset's presence till the latter 
 touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 Never was a reconciliation effected more 
 readily. When Somerset said that, fearing 
 his motives might be misconstrued, he had 
 followed to assure the minister of his good- 
 will and esteem, Mr. Woodwell held out his 
 hand, and proved his friendliness in return 
 by preparing to have the controversy on 
 their religious differences over again from the 
 beginning. In an amicable spirit, and with 
 exhaustive detail. Somerset evaded this 
 with alacrity, and once having won his com- 
 panion to other subjects, he found that the 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 25 
 
 austere man had a smile as pleasant as an 
 infant's on the rare moments when he in- 
 dulged in it ; moreover, that he was warmly- 
 attached to Miss Power. 
 
 " Though she gives me more trouble than 
 all the rest of the Baptist church in this 
 district," he said, " I love her as my own 
 daughter. But I am sadly exercised to know 
 what she is at heart. Heaven supply me 
 with fortitude to contest her wild opinions, 
 and intractability ! But she has sweet virtues, 
 and her conduct at times can be most en- 
 dearing." 
 
 '' I believe it ! " said Somerset, with more 
 fervour than mere politeness required. 
 
 " Sometimes I think those Stancy towers 
 and lands will be a curse to her. The spirit 
 of old papistical times still lingers in the 
 nooks of those silent walls, like a bad odour 
 in a still atmosphere, dulling the iconoclastic 
 emotions of the true Puritan. It would be 
 a pity indeed if she were to be tainted by 
 the very situation that her father's indomi- 
 table energy created for her." 
 
 " Do not be concerned about her," said 
 
126 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Somerset gently, for the minister was evi- 
 dently in trouble. " She's not a Paedobaptist 
 at heart, although she seems so." 
 
 Mr. Woodwell placed his finger on Somer- 
 set's arm, saying, " If she's not a Paedobaptist, 
 or Episcopalian ; if she is not vulnerable to 
 the mediaeval influences of her mansion, lands, 
 and new acquaintance, it is because she's 
 been vulnerable to what is worse : to doc- 
 trines beside which the errors of Paedo- 
 baptists. Episcopalians, Roman Catholics, are 
 but as air." 
 
 " How ? You astonish me." 
 
 '' Have you heard in your metropolitan 
 experience of a curious body of New lights,. 
 as they think themselves ? " The minister 
 whispered a name to his listener, as if he 
 were fearful of being overheard. 
 
 " Oh no," said Somerset, shaking his head, 
 and smiling at the minister's horror. '' She's 
 not that ; at least, I think not. . . . She's 
 a woman ; nothing more. Don't fear for 
 her ; all will be well." 
 
 The poor old man sighed. '' I love her as 
 my own. I will say no more." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. \2*] 
 
 Somerset was now in haste to get back 
 to the lady, to ease her apparent anxiety as 
 to the result of his mission, and also because 
 time seemed heavy in the loss of her dis- 
 creet voice and soft, buoyant look. Every 
 moment of delay began to be as two. But 
 the minister was too earnest in his converse 
 to see his companion's haste, and it was not 
 till perception of the same was forced upon 
 him by the actual retreat of Somerset that 
 he remembered time to be a limited com- 
 modity. He then expressed his wish to see 
 Somerset at his house to tea any afternoon 
 he could spare, and receiving the other's pro- 
 mise to call as soon as he could, allowed the 
 younger man to set out for the summer-house, 
 which he did at a smart pace. When he 
 reached it he looked around, and found she 
 was ofone. 
 
 Somerset was immediately struck by his 
 own lack of social dexterity. Why did he 
 act so readily on the whimsical suggestion 
 of another person, and follow the minister, 
 when he mieht have said that he would call 
 on Mr. Wood well to-morrow, and, making 
 
128 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 himself known to Miss Power as the visiting- 
 architect of whom she had heard from Miss 
 De Stancy, have had the pleasure of attend- 
 ing her to the castle ? " That's what any 
 other man would have had wit enough to 
 do ! " he said. 
 
 There then arose the question whether her 
 despatching him after the minister was such 
 an admirable act of good-nature to a good 
 man as it had at first seemed to be. Perhaps 
 it was simply a manoeuvre for getting rid 
 of himself; and he remembered his doubt 
 whether a certain light in her eyes when she 
 inquired concerning his sincerity were in- 
 nocent earnestness or the reverse. As the 
 possibility of levity crossed his brain, his face 
 warmed ; it pained him to think that a 
 woman so interesting could condescend to a 
 trick of even so mild a complexion as that. 
 He wanted to think her the soul of all that 
 was tender, and noble, and kind. The 
 pleasure of setting himself to win a minister's 
 goodwill was a little tarnished now. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 29 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 That evening Somerset was so preoccupied 
 with these things that he left all his sketch- 
 ing implements out-of-doors in the castle 
 grounds. He went somewhat earlier the 
 next morning to secure them from being 
 stolen or spoiled. Meanwhile he was hoping 
 to have an opportunity of rectifying in the 
 mind of Paula the mistake about his per- 
 sonality, which having served a very good 
 purpose in introducing them to a mutual con- 
 versation, might possibly be made just as 
 agreeable as a thing to be explained away. 
 
 He fetched his drawing instruments, rods, 
 sketching-blocks and other articles from the 
 field where they had lain, and was passing 
 under the walls with them in his hands, when 
 there emerged from the outer archway an 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Open landau, drawn by a pair of black horses 
 of fine action and obviously strong pedigree, 
 in which Paula was seated, under the shade 
 of a white parasol with black and white 
 ribbons fluttering on the summit. The morn- 
 ing sun sparkled on the equipage, its new- 
 ness being made all the more noticeable by 
 the ragged old arch behind. 
 
 She bowed to Somerset in a way which 
 might have been meant to express that she 
 had discovered her mistake ; but there was 
 no embarrassment in her manner, and the 
 carriage bore her away without her making 
 any sign for checking it. He had not been 
 walking towards the castle entrance, and she 
 could not be supposed to know that it was 
 his intention to enter that day. 
 
 She had looked such a bud of youth and 
 promise that his disappointment at her de- 
 parture might have shown itself in his face 
 as he observed her. However, he went on 
 his way, entered a turret, ascended to the 
 leads of the great tower, and stepped out. 
 
 From this elevated position he could still 
 see the carriage and the white surface of 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I3I 
 
 Paula's parasol in the glowing sun. While 
 he watched these objects the landau stopped, 
 and in a few moments the horses were turned, 
 the wheels and the panels flashed, and the 
 carriage came bowling along towards the 
 castle again. 
 
 Somerset descended the stone stairs. Be- 
 fore he had quite got to the bottom he saw 
 Miss De Stancy standing in the outer hall. 
 
 " When did you come, Mr. Somerset ? " 
 she gaily said, looking up surprised. '' How 
 industrious you are to be at work so regularly 
 every day ! We didn't think you would be 
 here to-day : Paula has gone to a vegetable 
 show at Markton, and I am going to join 
 her there soon." 
 
 *' Oh ! gone to a vegetable show. But I 
 think she has altered her " 
 
 At this moment the noise of the carriage 
 was heard in the ward, the door was thrown 
 open, and after the lapse of a few seconds 
 Miss Power came in — Somerset being in- 
 visible from the door where she stood. 
 
 " Oh, Paula, what has brought you back ? " 
 said Miss De Stancy. 
 
132 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ^' I have forgotten something." 
 
 " Mr. Somerset is here. Will you not 
 speak to him ? " 
 
 Somerset, being by this time in sight, 
 came forward, and Miss De Stancy pre- 
 sented him to her friend. Mr. Somerset 
 acknowledged the pleasure by a respectful 
 inclination of his person, and said some 
 words about the meeting yesterday. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Power, with a serene 
 deliberateness quite noteworthy in a girl of 
 her aofe : " I have seen it all since. I was miis- 
 taken about you, was I not ? Mr. Somerset, 
 I am glad to welcome you here, both as a 
 friend of Miss De Stancy's family, and as 
 the son of your father — which is indeed 
 quite a sufficient introduction anywhere." 
 
 " You have two pictures painted by Mr. 
 Somerset's father, have you not ? I have 
 already told him about them," said Miss 
 De Stancy. '* Perhaps Mr. Somerset would 
 like to see them, if they are unpacked ? " 
 
 As Somerset had from his infancy suffered 
 from a plethora of those productions, excel- 
 lent as they were, he did not reply quite so 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 33 
 
 eagerly as Miss De Stancy seemed to expect 
 to her kind suggestion, and Paula remarked 
 to him, " You will stay to lunch ? Do order 
 it at your own time, if our hour should not 
 be convenient." 
 
 Her voice was a voice of low note, in 
 quality that of a flute at the grave end of 
 its gamut. If she sang, she was a pure 
 contralto unmistakably. 
 
 " I am making use of the privilege you 
 have been good enough to accord me — of 
 sketching what is valuable within these 
 walls." 
 
 *' Yes, of course, I am willing for anybody 
 to come. People hold these places in trust 
 for the nation, in one sense. You lift your 
 hands, Charlotte ; I see I have not convinced 
 you on that point yet." 
 
 Miss De Stancy laughed, and said some- 
 thing to no purpose. 
 
 Somehow Miss Power seemed not only 
 more woman than Miss De Stancy, but more 
 woman than Somerset was man ; and yet 
 in years she was inferior to both. Though 
 becomingly girlish and modest, she appeared 
 
134 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 to possess a good deal of composure, which 
 was well expressed by the shaded light of 
 her eyes. 
 
 '' You have then met Mr. Somerset 
 before ? " said Charlotte. 
 
 "He was kind enough to deliver an 
 address in my defence yesterday. I suppose 
 I seemed quite unable to defend myself." 
 
 " Oh no ! " said he. 
 
 When a few more words had passed she 
 turned to Miss De Stancy and spoke of 
 some domestic matter, upon which Somerset 
 withdrew, Paula accompanying his exit with 
 a remark that she hoped to see him again 
 a little later in the day. 
 
 Somerset retired to the chambers of antique 
 lumber, keeping an eye upon the windows to 
 see if she re-entered the carriage and re- 
 sumed her journey to Markton. But when 
 the horses had been standing a long time the 
 carriage was driven round to the stables. 
 Then she was not oroino^ to the ve2:etable 
 shovv^ That was rather curious, seeing that 
 she had only come back for something for- 
 gotten. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 35 
 
 These queries and thoughts occupied the 
 mind of Somerset until the bell was runof for 
 luncheon. Owing to the very dusty con- 
 dition in which he found himself after his 
 morning's labours among the old carvings he 
 was rather late in getting down-stairs, and 
 seeing that the rest had gone in he went 
 straight to the dinlng-hall. 
 
 The population of the castle had increased 
 In his absence. There were assembled Paula 
 and her friend Charlotte ; a bearded man 
 some years older than himself, with a cold 
 grey eye, who was cursorily introduced to 
 him in sitting down as Mr. Havill, an archi- 
 tect of Markton ; also an elderly lady of 
 dignified aspect, in a black satin dress, of 
 which she apparently had a very high 
 opinion. This lady, who seemed to be a 
 mere dummy in the establishment, was, as 
 he now learnt, Mrs. Goodman by name, a 
 widow of a recently deceased gentleman, and 
 aunt to Paula — the identical aunt who had 
 smuggled Paula into a church in her helpless 
 infancy, and had her christened without her 
 parents' knowledge. Having been left in 
 
136 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 narrow circumstances by her husband, she 
 was at present Hving with Miss Power as 
 chaperon and adviser on practical matters — 
 in a word, as ballast to the management. 
 Beyond her Somerset discerned his new ac- 
 quaintance Mr. Wood well, who on sight of 
 Somerset was for hastening up to him and 
 performing a laboured shaking of hands in 
 earnest recognition. 
 
 Paula had just come in from the garden, and 
 was carelessly laying down her large shady 
 hat as he entered. Her dress, a figured 
 material in black and white, was short, al- 
 lowing her feet to appear. There was some- 
 thing in her look, and in the style of her 
 corsage, which reminded him of several of 
 the bygone beauties in the gallery. The 
 thought for a moment crossed his mind that 
 she might have been imitating one of them, 
 but it was scarcely likely. 
 
 '' Fine old screen, sir ! " said Mr. Havill, 
 In a long-drawn voice across the table when 
 they were seated, pointing in the direction 
 of the traceried oak division between the 
 dining-hall and a vestibule at the end. " As 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 37 
 
 good a piece of fourteenth-century work as 
 you shall see in this part of the county." 
 
 '' You mean fifteenth century, of course ? " 
 said Somerset. 
 
 Havill was silent. '' You are one of the 
 profession, perhaps ? " asked the latter, after 
 a while. 
 
 " You mean that I am an architect ? " said 
 Somerset. "Yes." 
 
 " Ah — one of my own honoured vocation." 
 Havill's face had been not unpleasant until 
 this moment, when he smiled ; whereupon 
 there instantly gleamed over him a phase of 
 meanness, remaining until the smile died 
 away. It might have been a physical acci- 
 dent ; it might have been otherwise. 
 
 Havill continued, with slow watchfulness : 
 " What enormous sacrileges are committed 
 by the builders every day, I observe ! I was 
 driving yesterday to Helterton, where I am 
 erecting a town-hall, and passing through 
 a village on my way I saw the workmen 
 pulling down a chancel-wall in which they 
 found imbedded a unique specimen of Per- 
 pendicular work — a capital from some old 
 
I.-; 8 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 O 
 
 arcade — the mouldings wonderfully undercut. 
 They were smashing it up as iilling-in for 
 the new wall." 
 
 *' It must have been unique," said Somerset, 
 in the too-readily controversial tone of the 
 educated young man who has yet to learn 
 diplomacy. " I have never seen much under- 
 cutting in Perpendicular stone-work ; nor 
 anybody else, I think." 
 
 '^Oh yes— lots of it!" said Mr. Havill, 
 nettled. His glance at Somerset as he 
 answered had a peculiar shade in it, sug- 
 gesting that he was readily convertible into 
 an enemy. 
 
 Paula looked from one to the other. 
 " Which am I to take as guide ? " she asked. 
 " Are Perpendicular capitals undercut, as you 
 call it, Mr. Havill, or no ? " 
 
 '' It depends upon circumstances," said Mr. 
 Havill. 
 
 But Somerset had answered at the same 
 time : " There is seldom or never any marked 
 undercuttinor in moulded work later than the 
 
 o 
 
 middle of the fourteenth century." 
 
 Havill looked keenly at Somerset for a 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 139 
 
 time : then he turned to Paula : '' As re- 
 gards that fine Saxon vaulting you did me 
 the honour to consult me about the other 
 day, I should advise taking out some of the 
 old stones and reinstating new ones exactly 
 like them." 
 
 " But the new ones won't be Saxon,'' said 
 Paula. ''And then In time to come, when 
 I have passed away, and those stones have 
 become stained like the rest, people will be 
 deceived. I should prefer an honest patch 
 to any such make-believe of Saxon relics." 
 
 As she concluded, she let her eyes rest on 
 Somerset for a moment, as if to ask him to 
 side with her. Much as he liked talking 
 to Paula, he would have preferred not to 
 enter into this discussion with another pro- 
 fessional man, even though that man were 
 a spurious article ; but he was led on to 
 enthusiasm by a sudden pang of regret at 
 finding that the masterly workmanship in 
 this fine castle was likely to be tinkered and 
 spoilt by such a man as Havill. 
 
 ''You will deceive nobody into believing 
 that anything is Saxon here," he said, warmly. 
 
140 A LAODICEAX. 
 
 '' There is not a square Inch of Saxon work, 
 as it is called, in the whole castle." 
 
 Paula, in doubt, looked to Mr. Havill. 
 
 " Oh yes, sir ; you are quite mistaken," 
 said that gentleman, slowly. '' Every stone 
 of those lower vaults was reared in Saxon 
 times." 
 
 " I can assure you," said Somerset, deferen- 
 tially, but firmly, " that there is not an arch 
 or wall in this castle of a date anterior to 
 the year iioo; no one whose attention has 
 ever been given to the study of architectural 
 details of that age can be of a different 
 opinion." 
 
 " I have studied architecture, and I am of 
 a different opinion. I have the best reason 
 in the world for the difference, for I have 
 history herself on my side. What will you 
 say when I tell you that it is a recorded fact 
 that King Edred, great uncle of Edward the 
 Confessor, gave this castle to a certain 
 abbess, and that, in addition, the castle is 
 mentioned in Domesday as a building of 
 long standing ? " 
 
 " I shall say that has nothing to do with 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I4I 
 
 It," replied the young man. " I don't deny- 
 that there may have been a castle here In 
 the time of Edward ; what I say is, that 
 none of the architecture we now see was 
 standing at that date." 
 
 There was a silence of a minute, disturbed 
 only by a murmured dialogue between Mrs. 
 Goodman and the minister, during which 
 Paula was looking thoughtfully on the table, 
 as if framing a question. 
 
 '' Can it be," she said to Somerset, " that 
 such certainty has been reached in the study 
 of architectural dates ? Now, would you 
 really risk anything on your belief ? Would 
 you agree to be shut up In the vaults and 
 fed upon bread and water for a week If I 
 could prove you wrong ? " 
 
 '' Willingly," said Somerset. " The date of 
 those groins is matter of absolute certainty. 
 The details are notorious, as being what 
 are called Transition or semi-Norman ; their 
 growth can be traced out of earlier forms ; 
 everything is known about them from re- 
 peated observations made all over England 
 and the Continent. More than that, I have 
 
142 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 found an arch -ornament here which is exactly 
 copied from a similar one I sketched in the 
 crypt of the Abbaye aux Dames at Caen last 
 year. That it should have been built before 
 the Conquest is as unlikely as, say, that the 
 rustiest old gun with a percussion lock should 
 be older than the date of Waterloo." 
 
 " How I wish I knew something precise 
 of an art which makes one so independent 
 of written history ! " 
 
 Mr. Havill had lapsed into a mannerly 
 silence that was only sullenness disguised. 
 Paula turned her conversation to Miss De 
 Stancy, who had simply looked from one to 
 the other during the discussion, never ven- 
 turing to put in a word, though she might 
 have been supposed to have a prescriptive 
 right to a few remarks on the matter. A 
 commonplace talk ensued, till Havill, who 
 had not joined in it, privately began at 
 Somerset again with a mixed manner of cor- 
 diality, contempt, and misgiving. 
 
 "You have a practice, I suppose, sir ? " 
 
 " I am not in practice just yet." 
 
 '' Just beginning ? " 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 43 
 
 '' I am about to begin." 
 
 '' In London, or near here ? " 
 
 ''In London probably." 
 
 " H'm. . . . I am practising in Markton." 
 
 " Indeed. Have you been at it long ? " 
 
 " Not particularly. I designed the chapel 
 built by this lady's late father ; it was my 
 first undertaking — I owe my start, in fact, 
 to Mr. Power. Ever built a chapel ? " 
 
 " Never. I have sketched a good many 
 churches." 
 
 " Ah — there we differ. I didn't do much 
 sketching in my youth, nor have I time for 
 it now. Sketching and building are two 
 different things, to my mind. I was not 
 brought up to the profession — got into it 
 through sheer love of it. I began as a land- 
 scape gardener, then I became a builder, 
 then I was a road-contractor. Every archi- 
 tect might do worse than have some such ex- 
 perience. But nowadays 'tis the men who can 
 draw pretty pictures who get recommended, 
 not the practical men. Young prigs win 
 Institute medals for a pretty design or two 
 which, if anybody tried to build them, would 
 
144 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 fall down like a house of cards ; then they 
 get travelling studentships and what not, and 
 then they start as architects of some new- 
 school or other, and think they are the 
 masters of us experienced ones." 
 
 While Somerset was reflecting how far 
 this statement was true, he heard the voice 
 of Paula inquiring, " Who can he be ? " 
 
 Her eyes were bent on the window. 
 Looking out, Somerset saw, in the mead 
 beyond the dry ditch, Dare, with his photo- 
 graphic apparatus. 
 
 "He is the young gentleman who called 
 about taklnof views of the castle," said Char- 
 lotte. 
 
 " Oh yes — I remember ; It Is quite right. 
 He met me in the village and asked me to 
 suggest him some views. I thought him a 
 respectable young fellow." 
 
 " I think he is a Canadian," said Somerset. 
 
 '' No," said Paula, '* he is an East Indian 
 — at least he implied that he was so to 
 me. 
 
 ''There is Italian blood in him," said 
 Charlotte, brightly. "For he spoke to me 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 45 
 
 with an Italian accent. But I can't think 
 whether he Is a boy or a man." 
 
 " It is to be earnestly hoped that the 
 gentleman does not prevaricate," said the 
 minister, for the first time attracted by 
 the subject. '' I accidentally met him In the 
 lane, and he said something to me about 
 having lived In Malta. I think it was Malta, 
 or Gibraltar — even if he did not say that he 
 was born there." 
 
 '' His manners are no credit to his nation- 
 ality," observed Mrs. Goodman, also speak- 
 ing publicly for the first time. '' He asked 
 me this morning to send him out a pail of 
 water for his process, and before I had turned 
 away he began whistling. I don't like 
 whistlers." 
 
 " Then it appears," said Somerset, '' that 
 he Is a being of no age, no nationality, and 
 no behaviour." 
 
 " A complete negative," added Havill, 
 briehtenlnof Into a civil sneer. " That Is, he 
 would be, If he were not a maker of negatives 
 well known in Markton." 
 
 " Not well known, Mr. Havill," answered 
 
 VOL. T. L 
 
146 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Mrs. Goodman, firmly. ''For I lived in 
 Markton for thirty years ending three months 
 ago, and he was never heard of in my time." 
 
 '' He is something like you, Charlotte," 
 said Paula, smiling playfully on her com- 
 panion. 
 
 All the men looked at Charlotte, on whose 
 face a delicate nervous blush thereupon made 
 its appearance. 
 
 ''Ton my word there is a likeness, now 
 I think of it," said Havill. 
 
 Paula bent down to Charlotte and whis- 
 pered : " Forgive my rudeness, dear. He is 
 not a nice enough person to be like you. 
 He is really more like one or other of the 
 old pictures about the house. I forget which, 
 and really it does not matter." 
 
 '/ People's features fall naturally into groups 
 and classes," remarked Somerset. " To an 
 observant person they often repeat them- 
 selves ; though to a careless eye they seem 
 infinite in their differences." 
 
 The conversation flagged, and they idly 
 observed the figure of the cosmopolite Dare 
 as he walked round his instrument in the 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 47 
 
 mead, and busied himself with an arrange- 
 ment of curtains and lenses, occasionally 
 withdrawing a few steps, and looking contem- 
 platively at the towers and walls. 
 
148 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Somerset returned to the top of the great 
 tower with a vague consciousness that he was 
 going to do something up there — perhaps 
 sketch a general plan of the structure, with a 
 view to measuring it in detail. But he began 
 to discern that this Stancy-Castle episode in 
 his studies of Gothic architecture might be 
 less useful than ornamental to him as a pro- 
 fessional man, though it was too agreeable to 
 be abandoned. Finding after a while that 
 his drawing progressed but slowly, by reason 
 of infinite joyful thoughts more allied to his 
 nature than to his art, he relinquished rule 
 and compass, and entered one of the two 
 turrets opening on the roof. It was not the 
 staircase by which he had ascended, and he 
 proceeded to explore its lower part. Enter- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 49 
 
 ing from the blaze of light without, and 
 imagining the stairs to descend as usual, he 
 became aware after a few steps that there 
 was suddenly nothing to tread on, and found 
 himself precipitated downwards to a distance 
 of several feet. 
 
 Arrived at the bottom, he was conscious of 
 the happy fact that he had not seriously hurt 
 himself, though his leg was twisted awkwardly. 
 Next he perceived that the stone steps had 
 been removed from the turret, so that he had 
 dropped into it as into a dry well ; that, owing 
 to its being walled up below, there was no 
 door of exit on either side of him ; that he 
 was, in short, a prisoner. 
 
 Placing himself in a more comfortable 
 position he calmly considered the best means 
 of getting out, or of making his condition 
 known. For a moment he tried to drae 
 himself up by his arm, but it was a hopeless 
 attempt, the height to the first step being far 
 too great. 
 
 He next looked round at a lower level. 
 Not far from his left elbow, in the concave of 
 the outer wall, was a slit for the admission 
 
150 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 of light, and he perceived at once that through 
 this sHt alone lay his chance of communicating 
 with the outer world. At first it seemed as 
 if it were to be done by shouting, but when 
 he learnt what little effect was produced by 
 his voice in the midst of such a mass of 
 masonry, his heart failed him for a moment. 
 Yet, as either Paula or Miss De Stancy would 
 probably guess his visit to the top of the 
 tower, there was no cause for terror, if some 
 for alarm. 
 
 He put his handkerchief through the win- 
 dow-slit, so that its length fluttered outside, 
 and, fixing it in its place by a large stone 
 drawn from the loose ones around him, 
 awaited succour as best he could. To begin 
 this course of procedure was easy, but to abide 
 in patience till it should produce fruit was an 
 irksome task. As nearly as he could guess 
 — for his watch had been stopped by the fall 
 — It was now about four o'clock, and it would 
 be scarcely possible for evening to approach 
 without some eye or other noticing the white 
 signal. So Somerset waited, his eyes linger- 
 ing on the little world of objects around him, 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I5I 
 
 till they all became quite familiar. Splders'- 
 webs in plenty were there, and one in 
 particular just before him was in full use as 
 a snare, stretching across the arch of the 
 window, with radiating threads as its ribs. 
 Somerset had plenty of time, and he counted 
 their number — fifteen. He remained so silent 
 that the owner of this elaborate structure 
 soon forgot the disturbance which had re- 
 sulted in the. breaking of his diagonal ties, 
 and crept out from the corner to mend them. 
 In watching the process, Somerset noticed 
 that on the stonework behind the web sundry 
 names and initials had been cut by explorers 
 in years gone by. Among these antique 
 inscriptions he observed two bright and clean 
 ones, consisting of the words *' De Stancy " 
 and " W. Dare," crossing- each other at rieht 
 angles. From the state of the stone they 
 could not have been cut more than a month 
 before this date, and, musing on the circum- 
 stance, Somerset passed the time until the 
 sun reached the slit in that side of the tower, 
 where, beginning by throwing In a streak of" 
 fire as narrow as a corn-stalk, it enlarged its 
 
152 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 width till the dusty nook was flooded with 
 cheerful light. It disclosed something lying 
 in the corner, which on examination proved 
 to be a dry bone. Whether it was human, 
 or had come from the castle larder in bygone 
 times, he could not tell. One bone was not 
 a whole skeleton, but it made him think of 
 Ginevra of Modena, the heroine of the 
 Mistletoe Bough, and other cribbed and con- 
 fined wretches, who had fallen into such 
 traps and been discovered after a cycle of 
 years. 
 
 The sun's rays had travelled some way 
 round the interior when Somerset's waiting 
 ears were at last attracted by footsteps above, 
 each tread being brought down by the hollow 
 turret with great fidelity. He hoped that 
 with these sounds would arise that of a soft 
 voice he had begun to like well. Indeed, 
 during the solitary hour or two of his waiting 
 here he had pictured Paula straying alone on 
 the terrace of the castle, looking up, noting 
 his signal, and ascending to deliver him from 
 his painful position by her own exertions. 
 It seemed that at length his dream had been 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 53 
 
 verlfiecl. The footsteps approached the open- 
 ing of the turret ; and, attracted by the call 
 which Somerset now raised, began to descend 
 towards him. In a moment, not Paula's face, 
 but that of a dreary footman of her house- 
 hold, looked over the edge of the lowest stair. 
 
 Somerset mastered his disappointment, and 
 the man speedily fetched a ladder, by which 
 means the prisoner of two hours ascended to 
 the roof in safety. During the process he 
 ventured to ask for the ladies of the house, 
 and learnt that they had gone out for a drive 
 together. 
 
 Before he left the castle, however, they 
 had returned, a circumstance unexpectedly 
 made known to him by his receiving a 
 message, through a servant, from Miss Power, 
 to the effect that she would be glad to see 
 him at his convenience. Wondering what it 
 could possibly mean, he followed the mes- 
 senger to her room — a small modern library 
 in the Elizabethan wing of the house, adjoin- 
 ing that in which the telegraph stood, and 
 arranged for her temporary use till things 
 were more in order. 
 
154 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 She was alone, sitting behind a table 
 littered with letters and sketches, and looking 
 fresh from her drive. Perhaps it was because 
 he had been shut up In that dismal dungeon 
 all the afternoon that he felt somethinof in 
 her presence which at the same time charmed 
 and refreshed him. 
 
 She signified that he was to sit down ; but 
 finding that he was going to place himself on 
 a straiorht-backed chair some distance off she 
 said, '' Will you sit nearer to me ? " and then, 
 as if rather oppressed by her dignity, she left 
 her own chair of business and seated herself 
 at ease on an ottoman which was among the 
 diversified furniture of the apartment. 
 
 " I want to consult you professionally," she 
 went on. '' I have been much impressed by 
 your great knowledge of castellated architec- 
 ture. Will you sit in that leather chair at 
 the table, as you may have to take notes ? " 
 
 The young man assented, expressed his 
 gratification, and went to the chair she desig- 
 nated. 
 
 " But, Mr. Somerset," she continued, from 
 the ottoman — the width of the table only 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 155 
 
 dividing them — " I first should just like to 
 know, and I trust you will excuse my inquiry, 
 if you are an architect in practice, or only as 
 yet studying for the profession ? " 
 
 " I am just going to practise. I open my 
 office on the first of January next," he 
 answered. 
 
 *' You would not mind having me as a 
 client — your first client ? " She was reclining, 
 and looked curiously from her sideway face 
 across the table, as she said this. 
 
 " Can you ask it ! " said Somerset, warmly. 
 *' What are you going to build ? " 
 
 " I am going to restore the castle." 
 
 '' What, all of it ? " said Somerset, astonished 
 at the audacity of such an undertaking. 
 
 '* Not the parts that are absolutely ruinous : 
 the walls battered by the Parliament artillery 
 had better remain as they are, I suppose. 
 But we have beo^un wrono^ • it is I who 
 should ask you, not you me. ... I fear," she 
 went on, in that low note which was some- 
 what difficult to catch at a distance, but 
 which he did not wish her to raise to a 
 louder tone, '' I fear what the antiquarians 
 
156 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 will say If I am not very careful. They come 
 here a great deal in summer, and if I were to 
 do the work wrong they would put my name 
 in the papers as a dreadful person, wilfully 
 destroying what is by rights the property of 
 all. But I must live here, as I have no other 
 house, except the one in London, and hence 
 I must make the place habitable, which it 
 hardly is at present. I do hope I can trust 
 to your judgment ? " 
 
 '' I hope so," he said, with diffidence, for, 
 far from having much professional confi- 
 dence, he often mistrusted himself. '' I am 
 a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, and 
 a Member of the Institute of British Archi- 
 tects — not a Fellow of that body yet, though 
 I soon shall be." 
 
 " Then I am sure you must be trust- 
 worthy," she said, with some enthusiasm. 
 '' Well, what am I to do ? — How do we 
 begin ? " 
 
 Somerset began to feel more professional, 
 what with the business chair, and the table, 
 and the writing-paper, notwithstanding that 
 these articles, and the room they were in, 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 57 
 
 were hers Instead of his ; and an evenness 
 of manner which he had momentarily lost 
 returned to him. *' The very first step," he 
 said, ** is to decide upon the outlay — what Is 
 it to cost ? " 
 
 He faltered a little, for It seemed to disturb 
 the softness of their relationship to talk thus 
 of hard cash. But her sympathy with his 
 feeling was apparently not great, and she 
 said, " The expenditure shall be what you 
 advise." 
 
 '' What a heavenly client ! " he thought. 
 " But you must just give some Idea," he said 
 gently. '' For the fact Is, any sum almost 
 may be spent on such a building : five 
 thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand, 
 fifty thousand, a hundred thousand." 
 
 " I want it done well ; so suppose we say 
 a hundred thousand ? My father's solicitor 
 — my solicitor now — says I may go to a 
 hundred thousand without extravagance, if 
 the expenditure is scattered over two or 
 three years." 
 
 Somerset looked round for a pen. With her 
 habitual quickness of Insight she knew what 
 
158 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 he wanted, and signified where one could be 
 found. He wrote down In large figures — 
 
 £100,000. 
 
 It was more than he had expected ; and 
 for a young man just beginning practice, 
 and wishing to make his name known, the 
 opportunity of playing with another person's 
 money to that extent would afford an ex- 
 ceptionally handsome opening, not so much 
 from the commission It represented, as from 
 the attention that would be bestowed by the 
 art world on such an undertaking. 
 
 Paula had sunk Into a reverie. '' I was 
 intending to entrust the work to Mr. Havill, 
 a local architect," she said. " But I gathered 
 from his conversation with you to-day that 
 his ignorance of styles might compromise me 
 very seriously. In short, though my father 
 employed him in one or two little matters, 
 it would not be right — even a morally 
 culpable thing — to place such an historically 
 valuable building in his hands." 
 
 '* Has Mr. Havill ever been led to expect 
 the commission ? " he asked. 
 
 "He may have guessed that he would 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 159 
 
 have it. I have spoken of my intention to 
 him more than once." 
 
 Somerset thought over his conversation 
 with Havill. Well, he did not like Havill 
 personally; and he had strong reasons for 
 suspecting that in the matter of architecture 
 Havill was a quack. But was it quite 
 generous to step in thus, and take away 
 what would be a golden opportunity to such 
 a man of making both ends meet comfortably 
 for some years to come, without giving him 
 at least one chance ? He reflected a little 
 longer, and then spoke out his feeling. 
 
 '' I venture to propose a slightly modified 
 arrangement," he said. " Instead of com- 
 mitting the whole undertaking to my hands 
 without better proof of my ability to carry 
 it out than you have at present, let there 
 be a competition between Mr. Havill and 
 myself — let our rival plans for the restoration 
 and enlargement be submitted to a com- 
 mittee of the Royal Institute of British 
 Architects — and let the choice rest with 
 them, subject of course to your approval." 
 
 ''It is indeed generous of you to suggest 
 
l6o A LAODICEAN. 
 
 It." She looked thoughtfully at him ; he 
 appeared to strike her In a new light. " You 
 really recommend It ? " she asked, as If the 
 fairness which had prompted his words in- 
 clined her still more than before to resign 
 herself entirely to him in the matter. 
 
 " I do," said Somerset deliberately. 
 
 " I will think of it, since you wish It," she 
 replied. " And now, what general idea have 
 you of the plan to adopt ? I do not positively 
 agree to your suggestion as yet," she added ; 
 " so I may perhaps ask the question." 
 
 Somerset, being by this time familiar with 
 the general plan of the castle, took out his 
 pencil, and made a rough sketch. While he 
 was doing It she rose, and coming slowly to 
 the back of his chair, bent over him In 
 silence. 
 
 " Ah, I begin to see your conception," she 
 murmured ; and the breath of her words 
 fanned his ear. He finished the sketch, and 
 held it up to her, saying — 
 
 " I would suggest that you walk over the 
 building with Mr. Havill and myself, and 
 detail your ideas to us on each portion." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. l6l 
 
 " Is It necessary ? " 
 
 " Clients mostly do it." 
 
 '' I will, then. But It is too late for me 
 this evening. Please meet me to-morrow 
 at ten." 
 
 VOL. I. ^ 
 
1 62 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 At ten o'clock they met in the same room, 
 Paula appearing in a straw hat having a 
 bent-up brim lined with plaited silk, so that 
 it surrounded her forehead like a nimbus ; 
 and Somerset armed with sketch - book, 
 measuring-rod, ivory rule, and other apparatus 
 of his craft. 
 
 "And INIr. Havill ?" said the young man. 
 
 '' I have not decided to employ him : if I 
 do he shall go round with me independently 
 of you," she replied rather brusquely. 
 
 Somerset was by no means sorry to hear 
 this. His duty to Havill was done. 
 
 '' And now," she said, as they walked on 
 together through the passages, " I must tell 
 you that I am not a mediaevalist myself; and 
 perhaps that's a pity." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 63 
 
 "What are you ? " 
 
 " I am Greek — that's why I don't wish to 
 Influence your design." 
 
 Somerset, as they proceeded, pointed out 
 where roofs had been and should be aeain, 
 where gables had been pulled down, and 
 where floors had vanished, showing her how 
 to reconstruct their details from marks in the 
 walls, much as a comparative anatomist re- 
 constructs an antediluvian from fragmentary 
 bones and teeth. She appeared to be in- 
 terested, listened attentively, but said little 
 in reply. They were ultimately in a long 
 narrow passage, indifferently lighted, when 
 Somerset, treading on a loose stone, felt a 
 twinge of weakness in one knee, and knew 
 in a moment that it was the result of the 
 twist given by his yesterday's fall. He 
 paused, leaning against the wall. 
 
 " What Is It ? " said Paula, with a sudden 
 timidity in her voice. 
 
 '' I slipped down yesterday," he said. "It 
 will be right in a moment." 
 
 " I — can I help you ? " said Paula. But 
 she did not come near him ; indeed, she 
 
164 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 withdrew a little. She looked up the pas- 
 sage, and down the passage, and became 
 conscious that it was long and gloomy, and 
 that nobody was near. A curious coy un- 
 easiness seemed to take possession of her. 
 Whether she thought, for the first time, that 
 she had made a mistake — that to wander 
 about the castle alone with him was com- 
 promising, or whether it was the mere shy 
 instinct of maidenhood, nobody knows ; but 
 she said suddenly, '' I will get something for 
 you, and return in a few minutes." 
 
 " Pray don't — it has quite passed ! " he 
 said, stepping out again. 
 
 But Paula had vanished. When she came 
 back it was in the rear of Charlotte De 
 Stancy. Miss De Stancy had a tumbler in 
 one hand, half full of wine, which she offered 
 him ; Paula remaining in the background. 
 
 He took the glass, and, to satisfy his 
 companions, drank a mouthful or two, though 
 there was really nothing whatever the matter 
 with him beyond the slight ache above 
 mentioned. Charlotte was going to retire, 
 but Paula said, quite anxiously, " You will 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 65 
 
 Stay with me, Charlotte, won't you ? Surely 
 you are interested in what I am doing ? " 
 
 " What is it ? " said Miss De Stancy. 
 
 '' Planning how to mend and enlarge the 
 castle. Tell Mr. Somerset what I want 
 done in the quadrangle — you know quite 
 well — and I will walk on." 
 
 She walked on ; but instead of talking on 
 the subject as directed, Charlotte and Somer- 
 set followed chatting on indifferent matters. 
 They came to an inner court not unlike a 
 cloister - garth, and found Paula standing 
 there. 
 
 She met Miss De Stancy with a smile. 
 " Did you explain ? " she asked. 
 
 *' I have not explained yet." Paula seated 
 herself on a stone bench and Charlotte went 
 on : '' Miss Power thought of making a Greek 
 court of this. But she will not tell you so 
 herself, because it seems such dreadful ana- 
 chronism." 
 
 '' I said I would not tell any architect 
 myself," interposed Paula, correctingly. '' I 
 did not then know that he would be Mr. 
 Somerset." 
 
1 66 A LAODICEAN". 
 
 " It is rather startling," said Somerset. 
 
 *' A Greek colonnade all round, you said, 
 Paula," continued her less reticent companion. 
 '' A peristyle you called it — you saw it in a 
 book, don't you remember ? — and then you 
 were going to have a fountain in the middle, 
 and statues like those in the British Museum." 
 
 " I did say so," remarked Paula, pulling 
 the leaves from a young sycamore-tree that 
 had sprung up between the joints of the 
 paving. 
 
 From the spot where they sat they could 
 see over the roofs the upper part of the great 
 tower wherein Somerset had met with his 
 misadventure. The tower stood boldly up 
 in the sun, and from one of the slits in 
 the corner something white waved in the 
 breeze. 
 
 '' What can that be ? " said Charlotte. " Is 
 it the fluff of owls, or a handkerchief ? " 
 
 '' It is my handkerchief," Somerset an- 
 swered, carelessly. '' I fixed it there with a 
 stone to attract attention, and forgot to take 
 it away." 
 
 All three looked up at the handkerchief 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 6/ 
 
 with interest. " Why did you want to attract 
 attention ? " asked Paula, in a low voice. 
 
 " Oh, I fell into the turret : but I got out 
 very easily." 
 
 " Oh, Paula," said Charlotte, turning to her 
 friend. *' That must be the place where the 
 man fell in, years ago, and w^as starved to 
 death ! " 
 
 '' Starved to death ? " said Paula. 
 " They say so. Oh, Mr. Somerset, what 
 an escape ! " And Charlotte De Stancy 
 walked away to a point from which she could 
 ofet a better view of the treacherous turret. 
 
 " Whom did you think to attract ? " asked 
 Paula, after a pause. 
 
 " I thought you might see it." 
 " Me personally ? " And, blushing faintly, 
 her eyes rested upon him. 
 
 " I hoped for anybody. I thought of you," 
 said Somerset. 
 
 She did not continue. In a moment she 
 arose and went across to Miss De Stancy. 
 " Don't yoti go falling down and becoming a 
 skeleton," she said — Somerset overheard the 
 words, though Paula was unaware of it — after 
 
I 68 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 which she clasped her fingers behind Char- 
 lotte's neck, and smiled tenderly in her face. 
 
 It seemed to be quite unconsciously done, 
 and Somerset thought it a very beautiful 
 action. Presently Paula returned to him and 
 said, " Mr. Somerset, I think we have had 
 enough architecture for to-day." 
 
 The two women then wished him good 
 morning and went away. Somerset, feeling 
 that he had now every reason for prowling 
 about the castle, remained near the spot, 
 endeavouring to evolve some plan of pro- 
 cedure for the project entertained by the 
 beautiful owner of those weather-scathed 
 walls. But for a long time the mental per- 
 spective of his new position so excited the 
 emotional side of his nature that he could 
 not concentrate on feet and inches. As 
 Paula's architect (supposing Havill not to be 
 admitted as a competitor), he must of neces- 
 sity be in constant communication with her 
 for a space of two or three years to come ; 
 and particularly during the next few months. 
 She, doubtless, cherished far too ambitious 
 views of her career to feel any personal in- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 69 
 
 terest in this enforced relationship with him ; 
 but he would be at liberty to feel what he 
 chose : and to be the victim of an unrequited 
 passion, while afforded such splendid oppor- 
 tunities of communion with the one beloved, 
 deprived that passion of its most deplorable 
 features. Accessibility is a great point in 
 matters of love, and perhaps of the two there 
 is less misery in loving without return a 
 goddess who is to be seen and spoken to 
 every day, than in having an affection ten- 
 derly reciprocated by one always hopelesly 
 removed. 
 
 With this view of having to spend a con- 
 siderable time In the neighbourhood, Somer- 
 set shifted his quarters that afternoon from 
 the little inn at Sleeping-Green to the Kings 
 Arms Hotel at Markton. He required more 
 rooms in which to carry out Paula s instruc- 
 tions than the former place afforded, and a 
 more central position. Having reached and 
 dined at the King's Arms he found the 
 evening tedious, and again strolled out in 
 the direction of the castle. 
 
 When he reached it the light was declining, 
 
170 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 and a solemn stillness overspread the pile. 
 The great tower was in full view. That spot 
 of white which looked like a pigeon fluttering 
 from the loophole was his handkerchief, still 
 hanging in the place where he had left it. 
 His eyes yet lingered on the walls when he 
 noticed, with surprise, that the handkerchief 
 suddenly vanished. 
 
 Believing that the breezes, though weak 
 below, might have been strong enough at that 
 heieht to blow it into the turret, and in no 
 hurry to get off the premises, he leisurely 
 climbed up to find it, ascending by the second 
 staircase, crossing the roof, and going to the 
 top of the treacherous turret. The ladder 
 by which he had escaped still stood within it, 
 and beside the ladder he beheld the dim 
 outline of a woman, in a meditative attitude, 
 holding his handkerchief in her hand. 
 
 Somerset felt himself an intruder and softly 
 withdrew. When he had reached the ground 
 he looked up. A girlish form was standing 
 at the top of the tower looking over the 
 parapet upon him — possibly not seeing him, 
 for it was dark on the lawn. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I7I 
 
 It was either Miss De Stancy or Paula ; 
 one of them had gone there alone for his 
 handkerchief and had remained awhile, pon- 
 dering on his escape. But which ? ** If I 
 were not a faint-heart I should run all risk 
 and wave my hat or kiss my hand to her, 
 whoever she is," he thought. But he was 
 faint-hearted in the circumstances, and did 
 not do either, feeling that, if it were Miss 
 Powder, her acquaintance was too desirable a 
 thing to be trifled with, even by an act which 
 would easily have borne the interpretation of 
 playful gallantry. 
 
 So he lingered about silently in the shades, 
 and then thought of strolling to his rooms 
 at Markton. Just at leaving, as he passed 
 under the inhabited wing, whence one or two 
 lights now blinked, he heard a piano, and a 
 voice singing " The Mistletoe Bough." The 
 song had probably been suggested to the 
 romantic fancy of the singer by her visit to 
 the scene of his captivity. 
 
172 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The identity of the lady whom he had seen 
 on the tower and afterwards heard singing 
 was estabhshed the next day. 
 
 " I have been thinking," said Miss Power, 
 on meeting him, " that you may require a 
 studio on the premises. If so, the one I 
 showed you yesterday as suitable for such 
 a purpose is at your service. If I employ 
 Mr. Havill to compete with you I will offer 
 him a similar one." 
 
 Somerset did not decline ; and when they 
 had discussed further arrangements she added, 
 " In the same room you will find the hand- 
 kerchief that was left on the tower." 
 
 " Ah, I saw that it was gone. Somebody 
 brought it down ? " 
 
 " I did," she quietly remarked, looking up 
 for a second under her shady hat-brim. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 73 
 
 *' I am much obliged to you." 
 
 " Oh no — that's not necessary. I went 
 up last night to see where the accident hap- 
 pened, and there I found it. When you 
 came up were you in search of it, or did you 
 want me ? " 
 
 " Then she saw me," he thought. '' I 
 went for the handkerchief only ; I was not 
 aware that you were there," he answered 
 simply. It could hardly be assumed that she 
 was conscious of any sentimental meaning 
 which might have been attached to her 
 words '' Did you want me ? " and he in- 
 voluntarily sighed. 
 
 It was very soft, but she might have heard 
 him, for there was interest in her voice as 
 she continued, *' Did you see me before you 
 went back ? " 
 
 '' I did not know it was you ; I saw that 
 some lady was there, and I would not disturb 
 her. I wondered all the evening if it were 
 you." 
 
 Paula hastened to explain : '' We under- 
 stood that you would stay to dinner, and as 
 you did not come in we wondered where you 
 
174 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 were. That made me think of your accident, 
 and after dinner I went up to the place where 
 it happened." 
 
 Somerset almost wished she had not ex- 
 plained so lucidly. 
 
 And now followed the piquant days to 
 which his position as her architect, or, at 
 worst, as one of her two architects, naturally 
 led. His anticipations were for once sur- 
 passed by the reality. Perhaps Somerset's 
 inherent unfitness for a professional life under 
 ordinary circumstances was only proved by 
 his great zest for it now. Had he been in 
 regular practice, with numerous other clients, 
 instead of having merely made a start with 
 this one, he would have totally neglected 
 their business In his exclusive attention to 
 Paula's. 
 
 The idea of a competition between Somer- 
 set and Havill had been highly approved by 
 Paula's solicitor, but she would not assent to 
 It as yet, seeming quite vexed that Somerset 
 should not have taken the good the gods 
 provided without questioning her justice to 
 Havill. The room she had offered him was 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. I 75 
 
 prepared as a studio. Drawing-boards and 
 Whatman's paper were sent for, and in a 
 few days Somerset began serious labour. 
 His first requirement was a clerk or two, to 
 do the drudgery of measuring and figuring ; 
 but for the present he preferred to sketch 
 alone. Sometimes, in measuring the out- 
 works of the castle, he ran against Havill 
 strolling about with no apparent object, 
 who bestowed on him an envious nod, and 
 passed by. 
 
 '' I hope you will not roughly make your 
 sketches," she said, looking in upon him one 
 day, with serio-playfulness, as he sat in the 
 room which had been lent him, " and then 
 go away to your studio in London and think 
 of your other buildings and forget mine. I 
 am in haste to begin, and wish you not to 
 neoflect me." 
 
 " I have no other building to think of," 
 said Somerset, rising and placing a chair for 
 her. '' I had not begun practice, as you may 
 know. I have nothing else in hand but 
 your castle." 
 
 " I suppose I ought not to say I am glad 
 
176 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 of It ; but it is an advantage to have an 
 architect all to one's self. The architect 
 whom I at first thought of told me before 
 I knew you that if I placed the castle in his 
 hands he would undertake no other com- 
 mission till its completion." 
 
 '' I agree to the same," said Somerset. 
 
 '' I don't wish to bind you," she returned. 
 '' But I hinder you now — do pray go on 
 without reference to me. When will there 
 be some drawing for me to see ? " 
 
 '' I will take care that it shall be soon." 
 
 He had a metallic tape in his hand, and 
 went out of the room to take some dimension 
 in the corridor. As the assistant for whom 
 he had advertised had not arrived, he at- 
 tem'pted to fix the end of the tape by stick- ^ 
 ing his penknife through the ring into the 
 wall. Paula looked on at a distance. 
 
 '' I will hold it," she said, after watching in 
 silence for some time and seeing his difficulty. 
 
 She went to the required corner and held 
 the end in its place. Slie had taken it the 
 wrong way, and Somerset went over and 
 placed it properly in her fingers, carefully 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 177 
 
 avoiding to touch them. He did this with- 
 out speaking ; she obediently raised her hand 
 to the corner again, and stood till he had 
 finished, when she asked, "Is that all ? " 
 
 '' That is all," said Somerset. *' Thank 
 you." Without further speech she looked at 
 his sketch-book, while he marked down the 
 lines just acquired. 
 
 ''You said the other day," she observed, 
 " that early Gothic work might be known by 
 the under-cutting, or something to that effect. 
 I have looked in Rickman and the Oxford 
 Glossary, but I cannot quite understand what 
 you meant." 
 
 It was only too evident to her lover, from 
 the way in which she turned to him, that she 
 had looked in Rickman and the Glossary, 
 ^and was thinking of nothing in the world 
 but of the subject of her inquiry. 
 
 " I can show you, by actual example, if 
 you will come to the chapel '^. " he returned, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 " Don't go on purpose to show me — when 
 you are there on your own account I will 
 come in." 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 " I shall be there In half an hour." 
 
 '' Very well," said Paula. She looked out 
 of a window, and, seeing Miss De Stancy on 
 the terrace, left him. 
 
 Somerset stood thinking of what he had 
 said. He had no occasion whatever to go 
 into the chapel of the castle that day. He 
 had been tempted by her words to say he 
 would be there, and " half an hour " had 
 come to his lips almost without his know- 
 ledge. This community of interest — if it 
 were not anything more tender — was grow- 
 ing serious. What had passed between 
 them amounted to an appointment ; they 
 were going to meet in the most solitary 
 chamber of the whole solitary pile. Could 
 it be that Paula had well considered this 
 in replying with her passive " Very well " ? 
 Probably not. She might think of it between 
 now and then, and might not come. 
 
 Somerset proceeded to the chapel and 
 waited. With the progress of the seconds 
 towards the half-hour he began to discover 
 that a dangerous admiration for this girl had 
 risen within him. Yet so Imaginative was 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 179 
 
 his passion that he hardly knew a single 
 feature of her countenance well enough to 
 remember it in her absence. The meditative 
 judgment of things and men which had been 
 his habit up to the moment of seeing her in 
 the Baptist chapel seemed to have left him 
 — nothing remained but a distracting wish 
 to be always near her, and it was quite with 
 dismay that he recognised what immense im- 
 portance he was attaching to the question 
 whether she would keep the trifling engage- 
 ment or not. 
 
 The chapel of Stancy Castle was a silent 
 place, heaped up in corners with a lumber of 
 old panels, framework, and broken coloured 
 glass. Here no clock could be heard beating 
 out the hours of the day — here no voice of 
 priest or deacon had for generations uttered 
 the daily service denoting how the year rolls 
 on. The stagnation of the spot was suffi- 
 cient to draw Somerset's mind for a moment 
 from the subject which absorbed it, and he 
 thought, " So, too, will time triumph over all 
 this fervour within me." 
 
 The sombre mood quite vanished when, 
 
l8o A LAODICEAN. 
 
 lifting his eyes from the floor on which his 
 foot had been tapping nervously, he saw 
 Paula standing at the other end. It was not 
 so pleasant when he also saw that Mrs. 
 Goodman accompanied her. The latter lady, 
 how.ever, obligingly remained where she was 
 resting, while Paula came forward, and, as 
 usual, paused on a half-smile without speaking. 
 
 "It is in this little arcade that the example 
 occurs," said Somerset. 
 
 " Oh yes," she answered, turning to look 
 at it. 
 
 '' Early piers, capitals, and mouldings, 
 generally alternate with deep hollows, so as 
 to form strong shadows. Now look under 
 the abacus of this capital ; you will find the 
 stone hollowed out wonderfully ; and also in 
 this arch-mould. It is often difficult to under- 
 stand how it could be done without cracking 
 off the stone. The difference between this 
 and late work can be felt by the hand even 
 better than it can be seen." He suited the 
 action to the word and placed his hand in 
 the hollow. 
 
 She listened attentively, then stretched up 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 151 
 
 her own hand to test the cutting as he had 
 done ; she was not quite tall enough ; she 
 would step upon this piece of wood. Having 
 done so she tried again, and succeeded in 
 putting her finger on the spot. No ; she 
 could not understand it through her glove 
 even now. She pulled off her glove, and, 
 her hand resting in the stone channel, her 
 eyes became abstracted in the effort of realisa- 
 tion, the ideas derived through her hand 
 passing into her face. 
 
 " No, I am not sure now," she said. 
 
 Somerset placed his own hand in the cavity. 
 Now their two hands were close together 
 again. They had been close together half 
 an hour earlier, and he had sedulously avoided 
 touching hers. He dared not let such an 
 accident happen now. And yet — surely she 
 saw the situation ! Was the inscrutable 
 seriousness with which she applied herself to 
 his lesson a mockery ? There was such a 
 bottomless depth in her eyes that it was 
 impossible to guess truly. Let it be that 
 destiny alone had ruled that their hands 
 should be together a second time. 
 
I 82 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 All rumination was cut short by an im- 
 pulse. He seized her forefinger between his 
 own finger and thumb, and drew It along the 
 hollow, saying, " That Is the curve I mean." 
 
 Somerset's hand was hot and trembling ; 
 Paula's, on the contrary, was cool and soft 
 as an Infant's. 
 
 '' Now the arch-mould," continued he. 
 " There — the depth of that cavity Is tre- 
 mendous, and It is not geometrical, as In later 
 work." He drew her unresisting fingers 
 from the capital to the arch, and laid them 
 in the little trench as before. 
 
 She allowed them to rest quietly there till 
 he relinquished them. '' Thank you," she 
 then said, withdrawing her hand, brushing 
 the dust from her finger-tips, and putting on 
 her glove. 
 
 Her imperceptlon of his feeling was the 
 very sublimity of maiden innocence If It were 
 real ; If not, well, the coquetry was no great 
 sin. But he would not think of it as pre- 
 tence or flirtation ; the pleasure of this day 
 would be marred by such commonplace sup- 
 positions. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 183 
 
 '' Mr. Somerset, will you allow me to have 
 the Greek court I mentioned ? " she asked 
 tentatively, after a long break In their dis- 
 course, as she scanned the green stones along 
 the base of the arcade, with a conjectural 
 countenance as to his reply. 
 
 "Will your own feeling for the genius of 
 the place allow you ? " 
 
 '' I am not a medlsevallst : I am an eclectic." 
 " You don't dislike your own house on that 
 account." 
 
 '' I did at first — I don't so much now. . . . 
 I should love It, and adore every stone, and 
 think feudalism the only true romance of life, 
 
 if " 
 
 -What.^" 
 
 '' If I were a De Stancy, and the castle 
 the long home of my forefathers." 
 
 Somerset was a little surprised at the 
 avowal : the minister's words on the effects 
 of her new environment recurred to his 
 mind. " Miss De Stancy doesn't think so," 
 he said. " She cares nothing about those 
 things." 
 
 Paula now turned to him : hitherto her 
 
184 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 remarks had been sparingly spoken, her eyes 
 being directed elsewhere : " Yes, that is very 
 strange, is it not ? " she said. '' But it is 
 owing to the joyous freshness of her nature, 
 which precludes, her from dwelling on the 
 past — indeed, the past is no more to her 
 than it is to a sparrow or robin. She is 
 scarcely an instance of the wearing out of 
 old families, for a younger mental constitu- 
 tion than hers I never knew." 
 
 *' Unless that very simplicity represents 
 the second childhood of her line, rather than 
 her own exclusive character." 
 
 Paula shook her head. ''In spite of the 
 Greek court, she is more Greek than I." 
 
 " You represent science rather than art, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " How ? " she asked quickly, glancing from 
 under her hat. 
 
 '' I mean," he answered quietly, "that you 
 represent the march of mind — the steamship, 
 and the railway, and the thoughts that shake 
 mankind." 
 
 She weighed his words, and said slowly : 
 '' Ah, yes : you allude to my father. My 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 85 
 
 father was a great man ; but I am more and 
 more forgetting his greatness : that kind of 
 greatness is what a woman can never truly 
 enter into. I am less and less his daughter 
 every day that goes by." 
 
 She walked away a few steps to rejoin the 
 excellent Mrs. Goodman, who, as Somerset 
 still perceived, was waiting for Paula at the 
 discreetest of distances in the shadows at the 
 further end of the building. Surely Paula's 
 voice had faltered, and she had turned to 
 hide a tear ; were he sure of that, the am- 
 biguous manner, which he could not unriddle, 
 would have no cold-hearted meaning in it, 
 but would be only an external peculiarity of 
 her nature. 
 
 She came back again. " Did you know 
 that my father made half the railways in 
 Europe, including that one over there ? " she 
 said, waving her little gloved hand in the 
 direction whence low rumbles were occa- 
 sionally heard during the day. 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 " How did you know ? " 
 
 " Miss De Stancy told me a little ; and I 
 
I 86 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 then found his name and doings were quite 
 familiar to me." 
 
 Curiously enough, or perhaps naturally, 
 since it was a main line of railway, with 
 his words there came through the broken 
 windows the murmur of a train in the dis- 
 tance, sounding clearer and more clear. It 
 was nothing to listen to, yet they both 
 listened ; till the increasing noise suddenly 
 broke off into dead silence. 
 
 " It has gone into the tunnel," said Paula. 
 *' Have you seen the tunnel my father made ? 
 the curves are said to be a triumph of 
 science. There is nothing else like it in 
 this part of England." 
 
 '' There is not : I have heard so. But I 
 have not seen it." 
 
 " Do you think it a thing more to be proud 
 of that one's father should have made a great 
 tunnel and railway like that, than that one's 
 remote ancestor should have built a great 
 castle like this ? " 
 
 What could Somerset say ? It would have 
 required a casuist to decide whether his 
 answer should depend upon his conviction, 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 87 
 
 or upon the family ties of such a questioner. 
 His own family had been rather of the high 
 old-fashioned sort, he himself was rather an 
 artist than a man of science ; and had his 
 interrogator been a De Stancy, there is not 
 much doubt about the answer that would 
 have risen spontaneously to his lips. " From 
 a modern point of view, railways are, no 
 doubt, things more to be proud of than 
 castles," he said ; " though perhaps I myself, 
 from mere association, should decide in 
 favour of the ancestor who built the castle." 
 The serious anxiety that Somerset threw 
 into his observation, as if nothing but honest 
 truth were available, was more than the cir- 
 cumstance required. But she herself was in 
 such a thoughtful mood that mere politeness 
 without conviction would, after all, hardly 
 have met the case. '' To design great en- 
 gineering works," he added musingly, and 
 without the least eye to the disparagement 
 of her parent, ''requires no doubt a leading 
 mind. But to execute them requires, of 
 course, only a following mind." 
 
 His reply did not altogether please her; 
 
1 88 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 and there was a distinct reproach conveyed 
 by her sHght movement towards Mrs. Good- 
 man. Ke saw it, and was grieved that he 
 should have spoken so. '' I am going to 
 walk over and inspect that famous tunnel of 
 your father's," he added gently. " It will be 
 a pleasant study for this afternoon." 
 
 She went away. " I am no man of the 
 world," he thought. " I ought to have 
 praised that father of hers straight off I 
 shall not win her respect ; much less her 
 love ! " 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET, I 89 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Somerset did not forget what he had planned, 
 and when lunch was over he walked away 
 through the trees. The tunnel was more 
 difficult of discovery than he had anticipated, 
 and it was only after considerable winding 
 among green lanes, whose deep ruts were 
 like Canons of Colorado in miniature, that 
 he reached the slope in the distant upland 
 where the tunnel began. A road stretched 
 over its crest, and thence along one side of 
 the railway-cutting. 
 
 He there unexpectedly saw standing Miss 
 Power's carriage ; and on drawing nearer he 
 found it to contain Paula herself. Miss De 
 Stancy, and Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 " How singular ! " exclaimed Miss De 
 Stancy gaily. 
 
190 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 " It is most natural," said Paula, instantly. 
 ''In the morning two people discuss a feature 
 in the landscape, and in the afternoon each 
 has a desire to see it from what the other 
 has said of it. Therefore they accidentally 
 meet." 
 
 Now Paula had distinctly heard Somerset 
 declare that he was going to walk there ; 
 how then could she say this so coolly ? It 
 was with a pang at his heart that he returned 
 to his old thought of her being possibly a 
 finished coquette and dissembler. Whatever 
 she mieht be, she was not a creature starched 
 very stiffly by Puritanism. 
 
 Somerset looked down on the mouth of 
 the tunnel. The absurdity of the popular 
 commonplace that science, steam, and travel 
 must always be unromantic and hideous, was 
 proved on the spot. On either slope of the 
 deep cutting, green with long grass, grew 
 drooping young trees of ash, beech, and 
 other flexible varieties, their foliage almost 
 concealing the actual railway which ran along 
 the bottom, its thin steel. rails gleaming like 
 silver threads in the depths. The vertical 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. IQI 
 
 front of the tunnel, faced with brick that 
 had once been red, was now weather-stained, 
 lichened, and mossed over In harmonious 
 hues of rusty-browns, pearly greys, and neutral 
 greens, at the very base appearing a little 
 blue-black spot like a mouse-hole — the 
 tunnel's mouth. 
 
 The carriage was drawn up quite close 
 to the wood ralllnof, and Paula was looking 
 down at the same time with him ; but he 
 made no remark to her. 
 
 Mrs. Goodman broke the silence by saying, 
 ''If It were not a railway we should call It 
 a lovely dell." 
 
 Somerset agreed with her, adding that It 
 was so charming that he felt Inclined to go 
 down. 
 
 '' If you do, perhaps Miss Power will order 
 you up again, as a trespasser," said Charlotte 
 De Stancy. " You are one of the largest 
 shareholders In the railway, are you not, 
 Paula ? " 
 
 Miss Power did not reply. 
 
 " I suppose as the road Is partly yours you 
 might walk all the way to London along the 
 
192 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 rails, if you wished, might you not, dear ? " 
 Charlotte continued. 
 
 Paula smiled, and said, '' No, of course 
 not." 
 
 Somerset, feeling himself superfluous, raised 
 his hat to his companions as if he meant not 
 to see them again for a while, and began to 
 descend by some steps cut in the earth, when 
 Miss De Stancy asked Mrs. Goodman to 
 accompany her to a barrow over the top of 
 the tunnel ; and they left the carriage, Paula 
 remaining alone. 
 
 Down Somerset plunged through the long 
 grass, bushes, late summer flowers, moths, 
 and caterpillars, vexed with himself that he 
 had come there, since Paula was so inscrut- 
 able, and humming the notes of some song 
 he did not know. The tunnel that had 
 seemed so small from the surface was a vast 
 archway when he reached its mouth, which 
 emitted, as a contrast to the sultry heat on 
 the slopes of the cutting, a cool breeze, that 
 had travelled a mile underground from the 
 other end. Far away in the darkness of this 
 silent subterranean corridor he could see that 
 other end as a mere speck of light. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 93 
 
 When he had conscientiously admired the 
 construction of the massive archlvault, and 
 the majesty of Its nude ungarnlshed walls, he 
 looked up the slope at the carriage ; it was 
 so small to the eye that It might have been 
 made for a performance by canaries ; Paula's 
 face being still smaller, as she leaned back In 
 her seat, idly looking down at him. There 
 seemed something roguish In her attitude of 
 criticism, and to be no longer the subject of 
 her contemplation he entered the tunnel out 
 of her sight. 
 
 In the middle of the speck of light before 
 him appeared a speck of black ; and then a 
 shrill whistle, dulled by millions of tons of 
 earth, reached his ears from thence. It was 
 what he had been on his guard against all 
 the time, — a passing train ; and instead of 
 taking the trouble to come out of the tunnel 
 he stepped into a recess, till the train had 
 rattled past, and vanished onward round a 
 curve. 
 
 Somerset still remained where he had 
 placed himself, mentally balancing science 
 against art, the grandeur of this fine piece of 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
194 ' ^ LAODICEAN. 
 
 construction against that of the castle, and 
 thinking whether Paula's father had not, after 
 all, the best of it, when all at once he saw 
 Paula's form confronting him at the entrance 
 of the tunnel. He instantly went forward 
 into the light where she w^as ; to his surprise 
 she was as pale as a lily. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Somerset ! " she exclaimed, im- 
 pulsively. " You ought not to frighten me 
 so — indeed you ought not ! The train came 
 out almost as soon as you had gone in, and 
 as you did not return — an accident was 
 possible ! " 
 
 Somerset at once perceived that he had 
 been to blame in not thinking of this. 
 
 *' Please do forgive my thoughtlessness in 
 not reflecting how It would strike you ! " he 
 pleaded. ** I — I see I have alarmed you." 
 
 Her alarm was, indeed, much greater than 
 he had at first thought : she trembled so 
 much that she was obliged to sit down, at 
 which he went up to her full of sollcltousness, 
 
 " You ought not to have done it ! " she 
 said. " I naturally thought — any person 
 would *' 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 95 
 
 Somerset, perhaps wisely, said nothing at 
 this outburst ; the cause of her vexation was, 
 plainly enough, his perception of her discom- 
 posure. He stood looking In another direc- 
 tion, till In a few moments she had risen to 
 her feet again, quite calm. 
 
 *' It would have been dreadful," she said 
 with faint gaiety, as the colour returned to 
 her face ; "If I had lost my architect, and 
 been obliged to engage Mr. Havlll without 
 an alternative." 
 
 " I was really In no danger ; but of course 
 I ought to have considered," he said. 
 
 " I forgive you," she returned good- 
 naturedly. " I knew there was no great 
 danger to a person exercising ordinary dis- 
 cretion ; but artists and thinkers like you are 
 indiscreet for a moment sometimes. I am 
 now going up again. What do you think of 
 the tunnel ? " 
 
 They were crossing the railway to ascend 
 by the opposite path, Somerset keeping his 
 eye on the Interior of the tunnel for safety, 
 when suddenly there arose a noise and shriek 
 from the contrary direction behind the trees. 
 
196 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Both knew in a moment what it meant, and 
 each seized the other as they rushed off the 
 permanent way. The ideas of both had 
 been so centred on the tunnel as the source 
 of danger, that the probabiHty of a train from 
 the opposite quarter had been forgotten. It 
 rushed past them, causing Paula's dress, hair, 
 and ribbons to flutter violently, and blowing 
 up the fallen leaves in a shower over their 
 shoulders. 
 
 Neither spoke, and they went up several 
 steps, holding each other by the hand, till, 
 becoming conscious of the fact, she withdrew 
 hers; whereupon Somerset stopped and looked 
 earnestly at her ; but her eyes were averted 
 towards the tunnel wall. 
 
 "What an escape ! " he said. 
 
 " We were not so very near, I think, were 
 we ? " she asked quickly. " If we were I 
 think you were — very good to take my 
 hand." 
 
 They reached the top at last, and the new 
 level and open air seemed to give her a new 
 mind. '' I don't see the carriage anywhere," 
 she said, in the common tones of civilisation. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 97 
 
 He thoueht it had o-one over the crest of 
 the hill ; he would accompany her till they 
 reached it. 
 
 *' No — please — I would rather not — I can 
 find it very well." Before he could say more 
 she had inclined her head and smiled and 
 was on her way alone. 
 
 The tunnel-cutting appeared a dreary gulf 
 
 enough now to the young man, as he stood 
 
 leaning over the rails above it, beating the 
 
 herbage with his stick. For some minutes 
 <~> 
 
 he could not criticise or weigh her conduct ; 
 the warmth of her presence still encircled 
 him. He recalled her face as it had looked 
 out at him from under the white silk puffing 
 of her black hat, and the speaking power of 
 her eyes at the moment of danger. The 
 breadth of that clear-complexioned forehead 
 — almost concealed by the masses of brown 
 hair bundled up around it — signified that if 
 her disposition were oblique and insincere 
 enough for trifling, coquetting, or in any way 
 making a fool of him, she had the intellect to 
 do it cruelly well. 
 
 But it was ungenerous to ruminate so 
 
1 98 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 suspiciously. A girl not an actress by profes- 
 sion could hardly turn pale artificially as she 
 had done, though perhaps mere fright meant 
 nothing, and would have arisen in her just as 
 readily had he been one of the labourers on 
 her estate. Upon the whole it was a per- 
 plexity. 
 
 The reflection that such feeling as she had 
 exhibited could have no tender meaning re- 
 turned upon him with masterful force when 
 he thought of her wealth and the social 
 position Into which she had drifted. Somer- 
 set, being of a solitary and studious nature, 
 was not quite competent to estimate precisely 
 the disqualifying effect, if any, of her non- 
 conformity, her newness of blood, and other 
 things, among the old county families estab- 
 lished round her ; but the toughest prejudices, 
 he thought, were not likely to be long in- 
 vulnerable to such cheerful beauty and 
 brightness of Intellect as Paula's. When 
 she emerged, as she was plainly about to do, 
 from the comparative seclusion In which she 
 had been living since her father's death, she 
 would inevitably win her way among her 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 1 99 
 
 neighbours. She would become the local 
 topic. Fortune-hunters would learn of her 
 existence and draw near in shoals. What 
 chance would there then be for him ? 
 
 The points in his favour were indeed few, 
 but they were just enough to keep a tanta- 
 lising hope alive. Modestly leaving out of 
 count his personal and intellectual qualifica- 
 tions, he thought of his family. It was an 
 old stock enough, though not a rich one. 
 His great-uncle had been the well-known 
 Vice-admiral Sir Armstrong Somerset, who 
 served his country well in the Baltic, the 
 Indies, China, and the Caribbean Sea. His 
 grandfather had been a notable metaphysician. 
 His father, the Royal Academician, was 
 popular. But perhaps this was not the sort 
 of reasoning likely to occupy the mind of a 
 young woman ; the personal aspect of the 
 situation was in such circumstances of far 
 more import. He had come as a wandering 
 stranger — that possibly lent some interest to 
 him in her eyes. He was installed in an 
 office which would necessitate free communion 
 with her for some time to come ; that was 
 
200 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 another advantage, and would be a still 
 greater one if she showed, as Paula seemed 
 disposed to do, such artistic sympathy with 
 his work as to follow up with Interest the 
 details of its progress. 
 
 The carriage did not reappear, and he went 
 on towards Markton, disinclined to return 
 again that day to the studio which had been 
 prepared for him at the castle. He heard 
 feet brushing the grass behind him, and, 
 looking round, saw the Baptist minister. 
 
 " I have just come from the village," said 
 Mr. Wood well, who looked worn and weary, 
 his boots being covered with dust, " and I have 
 learnt that which confirms my fears for her." 
 
 " For Miss Power ? " 
 
 " Most assuredly." 
 
 *' What danger is there ? " said Somerset. 
 
 " The temptations of her position have 
 become too much for her ! She is going out 
 of mourning next week, and will give a large 
 dinner-party on the occasion ; for though the 
 invitations are partly in the name of her 
 relative Mrs. Goodman, they must come from 
 her. The guests are to include people of 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 20I 
 
 old cavalier families who would have treated 
 her grandfather, sir, and even her father, 
 with scorn for their religion and connections ; 
 also the parson and curate — yes, actually 
 people who believe in the Apostolic Suc- 
 cession ; and, w^hat's more, they're coming. 
 My opinion is, that it has all arisen from her 
 friendship with Miss De Stancy." 
 
 *' Well," cried Somerset, warmly, '' this only 
 shows liberality of feeling on both sides ! I 
 suppose she has invited you as well ?" 
 
 " She has not invited me ! . . . Mr. Somer- 
 set, notwithstanding your erroneous opinions 
 on important matters, I speak to you as a 
 friend, and I tell you that she has never in 
 her secret heart forgiven that sermon of mine, 
 in which I likened her to the church at 
 Laodicea. I admit the words were harsh, 
 but I was doing my duty, and if the case 
 arose to-morrow I would do it again. Her 
 displeasure is a deep grief to me; but I 
 serve One greater than she. . . . You, of 
 course, are invited to this dinner ? " 
 
 ** I have heard nothing of it," murmured 
 the young man. 
 
202 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Their paths diverged ; and when Somerset 
 reached the King's Arms Hotel he was in- 
 formed that somebody was waiting to see 
 him. 
 
 ** Man or woman ? " he asked. 
 
 The landlady, who always liked to reply 
 in person to Somerset's inquiries, apparently 
 thinking him, by virtue of his drawing im- 
 plements and liberality of payment, a possible 
 lord of Burleigh, came forward and said it 
 was certainly not a woman, but whether man 
 or boy she could not say. " His name is 
 Mr. Dare," she added. 
 
 " Oh — that youth," he said. 
 
 Somerset v/ent upstairs, along the passage^ 
 down two steps, round the angle, and so on 
 to the rooms reserved for him in this rambling 
 edifice of stage-coach memories, where he 
 found Dare waiting. Dare came forward, 
 pulling out the cutting of an advertisement. 
 
 '* Mr. Somerset, this is yours, I beHeve, 
 from the ArcJiitecttu^al World?'' 
 
 Somerset said that he had inserted it. 
 
 '' I think I should suit your purpose as 
 assistant very well." 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 203 
 
 " Are you an architect's draughtsman ? " 
 
 " Not specially. I have some knowlege of 
 the same, and want to Increase It." 
 
 *' I thought you were a photographer." 
 
 "Also of photography," said Dare, with 
 a bow. " Though but an amateur in that 
 art, I can challenge comparison with Regent 
 Street or Broadway." 
 
 Somerset looked upon his table. Two 
 letters only, addressed In initials, were lying 
 there as answers to his advertisement. He 
 asked Dare to wait, and looked them over. 
 Neither was satisfactory. On this account 
 he overcame his slight feeling against Mr. 
 Dare, and put a question to test that gentle- 
 man s capacities. " How would you measure 
 the front of a building, including windows, 
 doors, mouldings, and every other feature, 
 for a ground plan, so as to combine the 
 greatest accuracy with the greatest despatch ?" 
 
 '' In running dimensions," said Dare. 
 
 As this was the particular kind of work 
 he wanted done, Somerset thought the answer 
 promising. Coming to terms with Dare, he 
 requested the would-be student of architec- 
 
204 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ture to wait at the castle the next day, and 
 dismissed him. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, when Dare was 
 taking a walk in the country, he drew from 
 his pocket eight other letters addressed to 
 Somerset in initials, which, to judge by their 
 style and stationery, were from men far 
 superior to those two whose communications 
 alone Somerset had seen. Dare looked them 
 over for a few seconds as he strolled on, then 
 tore them into minute fragments, and, bury- 
 ing them under the leaves in the ditch, went 
 on his way again. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Though exhibiting Indifference, Somerset 
 had felt a pang of disappointment when 
 he heard the news of Paula's approaching 
 dinner-party. It seemed a little unkind of 
 her to pass him over, seeing how much they 
 were thrown together just now. That dinner 
 meant more than it sounded. Notwith- 
 standing the roominess of her castle, she 
 was at present living somewhat incommodi- 
 ously, owing partly to the stagnation caused 
 by her recent bereavement, and partly to 
 the necessity for overhauling the De Stancy 
 lumber piled in those vast and gloomy 
 chambers before they could be made toler- 
 able to nineteenth-century fastidiousness. 
 
 To give dinners on any large scale before 
 Somerset had at least set a few of these 
 
206 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 rooms in order for her, showed, to his think- 
 ing, an overpowering desire for society. 
 
 During the week he saw less of her than 
 usual, her time being to all appearance much 
 taken up with driving out to make calls on 
 her neighbours and receiving return visits. 
 All this he observed from the windows of 
 his studio overlooking the castle ward, in 
 which room he now spent a great deal of his 
 time, bending over drawing-boards and in- 
 structing Dare, who worked as well as could 
 be expected of a youth of such varied attain- 
 ments. 
 
 Nearer came the Wednesday of the party, 
 and no hint of that event reached Somerset, 
 but such as had been communicated by the 
 Baptist minister. At last, on the very after- 
 noon, an invitation was handed into his 
 studio — not a kind note in Paula's hand- 
 writing, but a formal printed card in the 
 joint names of Mrs. Goodman and Miss 
 Power. It reached him just four hours before 
 the dinner-time. He was plainly to be used 
 as a stop-gap at the last moment because 
 somebody could not come. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 20/ 
 
 Having- previously arranged to pass a 
 quiet evening in his rooms at the King's 
 Arms, in reading up chronicles of the castle 
 from the county history, with the view of 
 gathering some ideas as to the distribution 
 of rooms therein before the demolition of a 
 portion of the structure, he decided off-hand 
 that Paula's dinner was not of sufficient im- 
 portance to him as a professional man and 
 student of art to justify a waste of the even- 
 ing by going. He accordingly declined Mrs. 
 Goodman's and Miss Power's invitation ; 
 and at five o'clock left the castle and walked 
 across the fields to the little town. 
 
 He dined early, and, clearing away heavi- 
 ness with a cup of coffee, applied himself to 
 that volume of the county history which 
 contained the record of Stancy Castle. 
 
 Here he read that " when this picturesque 
 and ancient structure was founded, or by 
 whom, is extremely uncertain. But that a 
 castle stood on the site in very early times 
 appears from many old books of charters. 
 In its prime it was such a masterpiece of 
 fortification as to be the wonder of the world, 
 
208 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 and It was thought, before the invention of 
 gunpowder, that it never could be taken by 
 any force less than divine." 
 
 He read on to the times when It first 
 passed into the hands of " De Stancy, 
 Chivaler," and received the family name, 
 and so on from De Stancy to De Stancy 
 till he was lost In the reflection whether 
 Paula would or would not have thought 
 more highly of him if he had accepted the 
 Invitation to dinner. Applying himself again 
 to the tome, he learnt that in the year 1504 
 Stephen the carpenter was " paid eleven 
 pence for necessarye repayrs," and William 
 the mastermason eight shillings " for whyt 
 lymlng of the kitchen, and the lyme to do 
 it with," Including " a new rope for the fyer 
 bell ; " also the sundry charges for '' vij 
 crockes, xllj lytyll pans, a pare of pot hookes, 
 a fyer pane, a lanterne, a chafynge dyshe, 
 and xlj candyll stychs." 
 
 Bang went eight strokes of the clock : It 
 was the dinner-hour. 
 
 '' There, now I can't go, anyhow ! " he 
 said bitterly, jumping up, and picturing her 
 
 I 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 209 
 
 receiving her company. How would she 
 look ; what would she wear ? Profoundly 
 indifferent to the early history of the noble 
 fabric, he felt a violent reaction towards 
 modernism, eclecticism, new aristocracies, 
 everything, in short, that Paula represented. 
 He even gave himself up to consider the 
 Greek court that she had wished for, and 
 passed the remainder of the evening in 
 making a perspective view of the same. 
 
 The next morning he awoke early, and, 
 resolving to be at work betimes, started 
 promptly. It was a fine calm hour of day ; 
 the grass slopes were silvery with excess of 
 dew, and the blue mists hung in the depths 
 of each tree for want of wind to blow them 
 out. Somerset entered the drive on foot, 
 and when near the castle he observed in 
 the gravel the wheel-marks of the carriages 
 that had conveyed the guests thither the 
 night before. There seemed to have been 
 a large number, for the road where newly 
 repaired was quite cut up. Before going 
 indoors he was tempted to walk round to 
 the wing in which Paula slept. 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
2IO A LAODICEAN. ^ 
 
 Rooks were cawing, sparrows were chatter- 
 ing there ; but the bHnd of her window was 
 as closely drawn as if it were midnight. 
 Probably she was sound asleep, dreaming of 
 the compliments which had been paid her 
 by her guests, and of the future triumphant 
 pleasures that would follow in their train. 
 Reaching the outer stone stairs leading to 
 the great hall, he found them shadowed by 
 an awning brilliantly striped with red and 
 blue, within which rows of flowering plants 
 in pots bordered the pathway. She could 
 not have made more preparation had the 
 gathering been a ball. He passed along 
 the gallery in which his studio was situated, 
 entered the room, and seized a drawing- 
 board to put into correct drawing the sketch 
 for the Greek court that he had struck out 
 the night before, thereby abandoning his 
 art principles to please the whim of a girl. 
 Dare had not yet arrived, and after a time 
 Somerset threw down his pencil and leant 
 back. 
 
 His eye fell upon something that m.oved. 
 It was white, and lay in the folding-chair on 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 2 I I 
 
 the opposite side of the room. On near 
 approach he found it to be a fragment of 
 swan's-down, fanned into motion by his own 
 movements, and partially squeezed into the 
 chink of the chair as though by some person 
 sitting on it. 
 
 None but a woman would have worn or 
 brought that swan's-down into his studio, 
 and it made him reflect on the possible one. 
 Nothing interrupted his conjectures till ten 
 o'clock, when Dare came. Then one of the 
 servants tapped at the door to know if Mr. 
 Somerset had arrived. Somerset asked if 
 Miss Power wished to see him, and was 
 informed that she had only wished to know 
 if he had come. Somerset sent a return 
 message that he had a design on the board 
 which he should soon be glad to submit to 
 her, and the messenger departed. 
 
 " Fine doings here last night, sir," said 
 Dare, as he dusted his T-square. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " 
 
 ''A dinner-party, I hear; eighteen guests." 
 
 '' Oh," said Somerset. 
 
 " The young lady was magnificent — sap- 
 
212 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 phires and opals — she carried as much as a 
 thousand pounds upon her head and shoulders 
 during that three or four hours. Of course 
 they call her charming ; Compuesta no hay 
 fnuger fea, as they say at Madrid." 
 
 '' I don't doubt it for a moment," said 
 Somerset with reserve. 
 
 Dare said no more, and presently the door 
 opened, and there stood Paula. 
 
 Somerset nodded to Dare to withdraw 
 into an adjoining room, and offered her a 
 chair. 
 
 " You wish to show me the design you 
 have prepared ? " she asked, without taking 
 the seat. 
 
 " Yes ; I have come round to your opinion. 
 I have made a plan for the Greek court you 
 were anxious to build." And he elevated 
 the drawing-board against the wall. 
 
 She regarded it attentively for some 
 moments, her finger resting lightly against 
 her chin, and said, " I have given up the 
 idea of a Greek court." 
 
 He showed his astonishment, and was 
 almost disappointed. He had been grinding 
 
 i 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 213 
 
 up Greek architecture entirely on her account ; 
 had wrenched his mind round to this strange 
 arrangement, all for nothing. 
 
 " Yes," she continued ; " on reconsideration 
 I perceive the want of harmony that would 
 result from inserting such a piece of marble- 
 work in a mediaeval fortress ; so in future 
 we will limit ourselves strictly to synchron- 
 ism of style — that is to say, make good 
 the Norman work by Norman, the Perpen- 
 dicular by Perpendicular, and so on. I 
 have informed Mr. Havill of the same 
 thing." 
 
 Somerset pulled the Greek drawing off the 
 board, and tore it in two pieces. 
 
 She involuntarily turned to look in his 
 face, but stopped before she had quite lifted 
 her eyes high enough. '' Why did you do 
 that ? " she asked with suave sauciness. 
 
 "It is of no further use," said Somerset, 
 tearing the drawing in the other direction, 
 and throwing the pieces into the fireplace. 
 ** You have been reading up orders and styles 
 to some purpose, I perceive." He regarded 
 her with a faint smile. 
 
214 ^ LAODICEAN. 
 
 " I have had a few books down from town. 
 It is desirable to know a little about the 
 architecture of one's own house." 
 
 She remained looking at the torn drawing, 
 when Somerset, observing on the table the 
 particle of swan's-down he had found in the 
 chair, gently blew it so that it skimmed across 
 the table under her eyes. 
 
 "It looks as if it came off a lady's dress," 
 he said idly. 
 
 " Off a lady's fan," she replied. 
 
 - Oh, off a fan ? " 
 
 '* Yes ; off mine." 
 
 At her reply Somerset stretched out his 
 hand for the swan's-down, and put it carefully 
 in his pocket-book ; whereupon Paula, mould- 
 ing her cherry-red lower lip beneath her 
 upper one in arch self-consciousness at his 
 act, turned away to the window, and after 
 a pause said softly as she looked out, 
 " Why did you not accept our invitation to 
 dinner ? " 
 
 It was impossible to explain why. He 
 impulsively drew near and confronted her, 
 and said, '' I hope you pardon me ? " 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 215 
 
 " I don't know that I can quite do that," 
 answered she with ever so Httle reproach. 
 " I know why you did not come — you were 
 mortified at not being asked sooner ! But it 
 was purely by an accident that you received 
 your invitation so late. My aunt sent the 
 others by post, but as yours was to be 
 delivered by hand it was left on her table, 
 and was overlooked." 
 
 Surely he could not doubt her words ; 
 those nice friendly accents were the embodi- 
 ment of truth itself. 
 
 ** I don't mean to make a serious com- 
 plaint," she added, in injured tones, showing 
 that she did. *' Only we had asked nearly 
 all of them to meet you, as the son of your 
 illustrious father, whom many of my friends 
 know personally ; and — they were disap- 
 pointed." 
 
 It was now time for Somerset to be 
 genuinely grieved at what he had done. 
 Paula seemed so good and honourable at 
 that moment that he could have laid down 
 his life for her. 
 
 " When I was dressed I came in here to 
 
2l6 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ask you to reconsider your decision," she 
 continued ; " or to meet us in the drawing- 
 room if you could not possibly be ready for 
 dinner. But you were gone." 
 
 "And you sat down in that chair, didn't 
 you, darling, and remained there a long time 
 musing ! " he thought. But that he did not 
 say. 
 
 '' I am very sorry," he murmured. 
 
 " Will you make amends by coming to 
 our garden-party ? I ask you the very 
 first." 
 
 '' I will," replied Somerset. To add that 
 it would give him great pleasure, etc., seemed 
 an absurdly weak way of expressing his feel- 
 ings, and he said no more. 
 
 ''It is on the nineteenth. Don't forget 
 the day." 
 
 He met her eyes in such a way that, if she 
 were woman, she must have seen the meaning 
 as plainly as words : " Do I look as if I could 
 forget anything you say ! " 
 
 She must, indeed, have understood much 
 more by this time — the whole of his open 
 secret. But he did not understand her. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 217 
 
 History has revealed that a supernumerary- 
 lover or two is rarely considered a dis- 
 advantage by a woman, from queen to cottage 
 girl ; and the thought made him pause. 
 
2l8 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 When she was gone he went on with the 
 drawing, not calHng in Dare, who remained 
 in the room adjoining. Presently a servant 
 came and laid a paper on his table, which 
 Miss Power had sent. It was one of the 
 morning newspapers, and was folded so that 
 his eye fell immediately on a letter headed 
 " Restoration or Demolition." 
 
 The letter was professedly written by a 
 dispassionate person solely in the interests of 
 art. It drew attention to the circumstance 
 that the ancient and interesting castle of the 
 De Stancys had unhappily passed into the 
 hands of an iconoclast by blood, who, with- 
 out respect for the tradition of the county, or 
 any feeling whatever for history in stone, was 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 219 
 
 about to demolish much, If not all, that was 
 interesting in that ancient pile, and insert in 
 its midst a monstrous travesty of some Greek 
 temple. In the name of all lovers of mediaeval 
 art, conjured the simple-minded writer, let 
 something be done to save a building which, 
 injured and battered in the Civil Wars, was 
 now to be made a complete ruin by the 
 freaks of an irresponsible owner. 
 
 Her sending him the paper seemed to 
 imply that she required his opinion on the 
 case ; and in the afternoon, leaving Dare to 
 measure up a wing according to directions, 
 he went out in the hope of meeting her, 
 having learnt that she had gone to the 
 village. On reaching the church he saw her 
 crossing the churchyard path with her aunt 
 and Miss De Stancy. Somerset entered the 
 enclosure, and as soon as she saw him she 
 came across. 
 
 '' What is to be done ? " she asked. 
 
 " You need not be concerned about such a 
 letter as that." 
 
 " I am concerned." 
 
 '' I think it dreadful impertinence," spoke 
 
2 20 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 up Charlotte, who had joined them. " Can 
 you think who wrote it, Mr. Somerset .^" 
 
 Somerset could not. 
 
 " Well, what am I to do ? " repeated Paula. 
 
 '' Just as you would have done before." 
 
 *' That's what / say," observed Mrs. Good- 
 man emphatically. 
 
 " But I have already altered — I have given 
 up the Greek court." 
 
 *' Oh — you had seen the paper this morn- 
 ing before you looked at my drawing ? " 
 
 " I had," she answered. 
 
 Somerset thought it a forcible illustration 
 of her natural reticence that she should have 
 abandoned the design without telling him the 
 reason ; but he was glad she had not done it 
 from mere caprice. 
 
 She turned to him and said quietly, '* I 
 wish, you would answer that letter." 
 
 *' It would be ill-advised," said Somerset. 
 " Still, if, after consideration, you wish it 
 much, I will. Meanwhile let me impress 
 upon you again the expediency of calling in 
 Mr. Havill — to whom, as your father's archi- 
 tect, expecting this commission, something 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 221 
 
 perhaps Is owed — and getting him to furnish 
 an alternative plan to mine, and submitting 
 the choice of designs to some members of the 
 Royal Institute of British Architects. This 
 letter makes it still more advisable than 
 before." 
 
 *' Very well," said Paula reluctantly. 
 *' Let him have all the particulars you have 
 been good enough to explain to me — so that 
 we start fair In the competition." 
 
 She looked negligently on the grass. '* I 
 will tell the building-steward to write them 
 out for him," she said. 
 
 The party separated and entered the church 
 by different doors. Somerset went to a nook 
 of the building that he had often Intended to 
 visit. It was called the Stancy aisle ; and in 
 It stood the tombs of that family. Somerset 
 examined them : they were unusually rich 
 and numerous, beginning with cross-legged 
 knights in hauberks of chain-mall, their ladles 
 beside them In wimple and cover-chief, all 
 more or less coated with the green mould 
 and dirt of ages : and continuing with others 
 of later date. In fine alabaster, gilded and 
 
2 22 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 coloured, some of them wearing round their 
 necks the Yorkist collar of suns and roses, 
 the livery of Edward the Fourth. In 
 scrutinising the tallest canopy over these he 
 beheld Paula behind it, as if in contemplation 
 of the same objects. 
 
 " You came to the church to sketch these 
 monuments, I suppose, Mr. Somerset ? " she 
 asked as soon as she saw him. 
 
 "No. I came to speak to you about the 
 letter." 
 
 She sighed. " Yes : that letter," she said. 
 " I am persecuted ! If I had been one of 
 these it would never have been written." 
 She tapped the alabaster effigy of a recum- 
 bent lady with her parasol. 
 
 " They are interesting, are they not ? " he 
 said. " She is beautifully preserved. The 
 gilding is nearly gone, but beyond that she is 
 perfect." 
 
 '' She is like Charlotte," said Paula. And 
 what was much like another sigh escaped her 
 lips. 
 
 Somerset admitted that there was a re- 
 semblance, while Paula drew her forefinger 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 223 
 
 across the marble face of the effigy, and at 
 length took out her handkerchief, and began 
 wiping the dust from the hollows of the 
 features. He looked on, wondering what 
 her sigh had meant, but guessing that it had 
 been somehow caused by the sight of these 
 sculptures in connection with the newspaper 
 writer's denunciation of her as an irresponsible 
 outsider. 
 
 The secret was out when in answer to his 
 question, idly put, if she wished she were 
 like one of these, she said, with exceptional 
 vehemence for one of her demeanour : 
 
 " I don't wish I was like one of them : I 
 wish I was one of them." 
 
 '' What — you wish you were a De Stancy ? " 
 
 *' Yes. It is very dreadful to be denounced 
 as a barbarian. I want to be romantic and 
 historical." 
 
 " Miss De Stancy seems not to value the 
 privilege," he said, looking round at another 
 part of the church where Charlotte was in- 
 nocently prattling to Mrs. Goodman, quite 
 heedless of the tombs of her forefathers. 
 
 '' If I were one," she continued, " I should 
 
2 24 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 come here when I feel alone in the world, 
 as I do to-day ; and I would defy people, 
 and say, * You cannot spoil what has been ! ' " 
 
 They walked on till they reached the old 
 black pew attached to the castle — a vast 
 square enclosure of oak panelling occupying- 
 half the aisle, and surmounted with a little 
 balustrade above the framework. Within, 
 the baize lining that had once been green, 
 now faded to the colour of a common in 
 August, was torn, kicked and scraped to rags 
 by the feet and hands of the ploughboys 
 who had appropriated the pew as their own 
 special place of worship since it had ceased 
 to be used by any resident at the castle, 
 because its height afforded convenient shelter 
 for playing at marbles and pricking with pins. 
 
 Charlotte and Mrs. Goodman had by this 
 time left the building, and could be seen 
 looking at the headstones outside. 
 
 *' If you were a De Stancy," said Somerset, 
 who had pondered more deeply upon that 
 new wish of hers than he had seemed to do, 
 '' you would be a churchwoman, and sit here." 
 
 " And I should have the pew done up," 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 225 
 
 she said readily, as she rested her pretty chin 
 on the top rail and looked at the interior, 
 her cheeks pressed into deep dimples. Her 
 quick reply told him that the idea was no 
 new one with her, and he thought of poor 
 Mr. Woodwell's shrewd prophecy as he per- 
 ceived that her days as a separatist were 
 numbered. 
 
 "Well, why can't you have it done up, 
 and sit here ? " he said warily. 
 Paula shook her head. 
 
 '' You are not at enmity with Anglicanism, 
 I am sure ? " 
 
 " I want not to be. I want to be — • 
 
 what " 
 
 " What the De Stancys were, and are," he 
 said insidiously ; and her silenced bearing 
 told him that he had hit the nail. 
 
 It was a strange idea to get possession of 
 such a nature as hers, and for a minute he 
 felt himself on the side of the minister. So 
 strong was Somerset's feeling of wishing her 
 to show the quality of fidelity to paternal 
 dogma and party that he could not help 
 adding : 
 
 VOL. T. Q 
 
2 26 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '' But have you forgotten that other nobility 
 — the nobility of talent and enterprise ? " 
 
 "No. But I wish I had a well-known 
 line of ancestors." 
 
 " You have. Archimedes, Newcomen, 
 Watt, Telford, Stephenson, those are your 
 father's direct ancestors. Have you for- 
 gotten them ? Have you forgotten your 
 father, and the railways he made over half 
 Europe, and his great energy and skill, and 
 all connected with him, as if he had never 
 lived ? " 
 
 She did not answer for some time. " No, 
 I have not forgotten it," she said, still look- 
 ing into the pew. *' But I have 2. p7'Milectioit 
 d artiste for ancestors of the other sort, like 
 the De Stancys." 
 
 Her hand was resting on the lov/ pew next 
 the high one of the De Stancys. Somerset 
 looked at the hand, or rather at the glove 
 which covered it, then at her averted cheek, 
 then beyond it into the pev/, then at her 
 hand again, until by an Indescribable con- 
 sciousness that he was not s^oinor too far he 
 laid his ovvn upon it. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 22/ 
 
 '' No, no," said Paula quickly, withdrawing 
 her hand. But there was nothing resentful 
 or haughty in her tone — nothing, in short, 
 which makes a man in such circumstances 
 feel that he has done a particularly foolish 
 action. 
 
 The flower on her bosom rose and fell 
 somewhat more than usual as she added, '' I 
 am going away now — I will leave you here." 
 Without waiting for a reply she adroitly 
 swept back her skirts to free her feet and 
 went out of the church blushing. 
 
 Somerset took her hint and did not follow ; 
 and when he knew that she had rejoined her 
 friends, and heard the carriage roll away, he 
 made towards the opposite door. Pausing 
 to glance once more at the alabaster effigies 
 before leaving them to their silence and 
 neglect, he beheld Dare bending over them, 
 to all appearance intently occupied. 
 
 He must have been in the church some 
 time — certainly during the tender episode 
 between Somerset and Paula, and could not 
 have failed to perceive it. Somerset blushed : 
 it was unpleasant that Dare should have 
 
2 28 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 seen the Interior of his heart so plainly. He 
 went across and said, " I think I left you to 
 finish the drawing of the north wing, Mr. 
 Dare ? " 
 
 " Three hours ago, sir," said Dare. 
 *' Having finished that, I came to look at the 
 church — fine bulldincr — fine monuments — two 
 Interesting people looking at them." 
 
 -What?" 
 
 *' I stand corrected. Pensci molto, parla 
 poco, as the Italians have it." 
 
 '' Well, now, Mr. Dare, suppose you get 
 back to the castle ? " 
 
 ''Which history dubs Castle Stancy. . . . 
 Certainly." 
 
 " How do you get on with the measuring ? " 
 
 Dare sighed whimsically. " Badly in the 
 morning, when I have been tempted to in- 
 dulge overnight, and worse in the afternoon 
 when I have been tempted in the morning ! " 
 
 Somerset looked at the youth, and said, 
 " I fear I shall have to dispense with your 
 services, Dare, for I think you have been 
 tempted to-day." 
 
 " On my honour no. My manner is a 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 2 29 
 
 little against me, Mr. Somerset. But you 
 need not fear for my ability to do your work. 
 I am a young man wasted, and am thought 
 of slight account ; it is the true men who get 
 snubbed, while traitors are allowed to thrive !" 
 
 *' Hang sentiment. Dare, and off with 
 you ! " A little ruffled, Somerset had turned 
 his back upon the interesting speaker, so that 
 he did not observe the sly twist Dare threw 
 into his right eye as he spoke. The latter 
 went off in one direction and Somerset in 
 the other, pursuing his pensive way towards 
 Markton with thoughts not difficult to divine. 
 
 From one point in her nature he went to 
 another, till he again recurred to her romantic 
 interest in the De Stancy family. To wish 
 she was one of them : how very inconsistent 
 of her. That she really did wish it was un- 
 questionable ; for the feeling had been so 
 strong as to break through her natural silent- 
 ness. 
 
230 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It was the day of the garden-party. The 
 weather was too cloudy to be called perfect, 
 but it was as sultry as the most thinly clad 
 young lady could desire. Great trouble had 
 been taken by Paula to bring the lawn to 
 a fit condition after the neglect of recent 
 years, and Somerset had suggested the design 
 for the tents. As he approached the pre- 
 cincts of the castle he discerned a flag of 
 newest fabric floating over the keep, and 
 soon his phaeton fell In with the stream of 
 carriages that were passing over the bridge 
 into the outer ward. 
 
 Mrs. Goodman and Paula were receiving 
 the people in the drawing-room. Somerset 
 came forward in his turn ; but as he was 
 immediately followed by others there was 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 23 1 
 
 not much opportunity, even had she felt the 
 wish, for any special mark of feeling in the 
 younger lady's greeting of him. 
 
 He went on through a canvas passage, 
 lined on each side with flowering plants, till 
 he reached the tents ; thence, after nodding 
 to one or two guests slightly known to him, 
 he proceeded to the grounds, with a sense 
 of being rather lonely. Few visitors had 
 as yet got so far in, and as he walked up 
 and down a shady alley his mind dwelt 
 upon the new aspect under which Paula had 
 greeted his eyes that afternoon. Her black- 
 and-white costume had finally disappeared, 
 and in its place she had adopted a picturesque 
 dress of ivory white, with satin enrichments 
 of the same hue ; while upon her bosom she 
 wore a blue flower. Her days of infestivity 
 were plainly ended, and her days of gladness 
 were to beg^in. 
 
 His reverie was interrupted by the sound 
 of his name, and looking round he beheld 
 Havill, who appeared to be as much alone 
 as himself 
 
 Somerset already knew that Havill had 
 
2 32 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 been appointed to compete with him, accord- 
 ing to his recommendation. In measuring 
 a dark corner a day or two before, he had 
 stumbled upon Havill engaged in the same 
 pursuit with a view to the rival design. 
 Afterwards he had seen him receiving 
 Paula s instructions precisely as he had done 
 himself. It was as he had wished, for fair- 
 ness' sake ; and yet he felt a regret, for he 
 was less Paula's own architect now. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Somerset," said Havill, "since 
 we first met an unexpected rivalry has arisen 
 between us ! But I dare say we shall survive 
 the contest, as it is not one arising out of 
 love. Ha-ha-ha ! " He spoke in a level 
 voice of fierce pleasantry, and uncovered his 
 regular white teeth. 
 
 Somerset supposed him to allude to the 
 castle competition ? 
 
 "Yes," said Havill. "Her proposed un- 
 dertaking brouQfht out some adverse criticism 
 till it was known that she intended to have 
 more than one architectural opinion. An 
 excellent stroke of hers to disarm criticism. 
 You saw the second letter in the morning 
 papers ? " 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 233 
 
 '' No," said the other. 
 
 '' The writer states that he has discovered 
 that the competent advice of two architects 
 is to be taken, and withdraws his accusa- 
 tions." 
 
 Somerset said nothing for a minute. 
 '' Have you been supphed with the neces- 
 sary data for your drawings ? " he asked, 
 showing by the question the track his 
 thoughts had taken. 
 
 Havill said that he had. " But possibly 
 not so completely as you have," he added, 
 again smiling fiercely. Somerset did not 
 quite like the insinuation, and the two 
 speakers parted, the younger going towards 
 the musicians, who had now begun to fill 
 the air with their strains from the em- 
 bowered enclosure of a drooping ash. When 
 he got back to the marquees they were 
 quite crowded, and the guests began to pour 
 out upon the grass, the toilets of the ladies 
 presenting a brilliant spectacle — here being 
 coloured dresses with white devices, there, 
 white dresses with coloured devices, and 
 yonder transparent dresses with no device 
 
2 34 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 at all. A lavender haze hung in the air, 
 the trees were as still as those of a submarine 
 forest ; while the sun, in colour like a brass 
 plaque, had a hairy outline in the livid sky. 
 
 After watching a while some young people 
 who were so madly devoted to lawn-tennis 
 that they had set about it like day-labourers 
 at the moment of their arrival, he turned 
 and saw approaching a graceful figure in 
 cream-coloured hues, Avhose gloves lost them- 
 selves beneath her lace ruffles, even when 
 she lifted her hand to make firm the blue 
 flov\^er at her breast, and whose hair hung 
 under her hat in great knots so well com- 
 pacted that the sun gilded the convexity of 
 each knot like a ball. 
 
 " You seem to be alone," said Paula, who 
 had at last escaped from the duty of re- 
 ceivinof auests. 
 
 " I don't know many people." 
 
 " Yes : I thought of that Avhile I was in 
 the drawing-room. But I could not get out 
 before. I am now no longer a responsible 
 being : Mrs. Goodman is mistress for the 
 remainder of the day. \Vill you be intro- 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 235 
 
 duced to anybody ? Whom would you like 
 to know ? " 
 
 " I am not particularly unhappy In my 
 solitude." 
 
 " But you must be made to know a few." 
 
 " Very well — I submit readily." 
 
 She looked away from him, and while he 
 was observing upon her cheek the moving 
 shadow of leaves cast by the declining sun, 
 she said, " Oh, there Is my aunt," and 
 beckoned with her parasol to that lady, who 
 approached In the comparatively youthful 
 guise of a grey silk dress that whistled at 
 every touch. 
 
 Paula left them together, and Mrs. Good- 
 man then made him acquainted with a few 
 of the best people, describing what they were 
 In a whisper before they came up, among 
 them being the Radical member for Markton 
 who had succeeded to the seat rendered 
 vacant by the death of Paula's father. While 
 talking to this gentleman on the proposed 
 enlargement of the castle, Somerset raised 
 his eyes and hand towards the walls, the 
 better to point out his meaning ; In so doing 
 
23b A LAODICEAN. 
 
 he saw a face in the square of darkness 
 formed by one of the open windows, the 
 effect being that of a high-Hght portrait by 
 Vandyck or Rembrandt. 
 
 It was his assistant Dare, leaning on the 
 window-sill of the studio, as he smoked his 
 cigarette and surveyed the gay groups pro 
 menading beneath. 
 
 After holding a chattering conversation 
 with some ladies from a neighbouring 
 country seat who had known his father in 
 bygone years, and handing them ices and 
 strawberries till they were satisfied, he found 
 an opportunity of leaving the grounds, wish- 
 ing to learn what progress Dare had made 
 in the survey of the castle. 
 
 Dare was still in the studio when he 
 entered. Somerset informed the youth that 
 there was no necessity for his working later 
 that day, unless to please himself, and pro- 
 ceeded to inspect Dare's achievements thus 
 far. To his vexation Dare had not plotted 
 three dimensions during the previous two 
 days. This was not the first time that 
 Dare, either from incompetence or indolence, 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 237 
 
 had shown his inutiHty as a house-surveyor 
 and draughtsman. 
 
 " Mr. Dare," said Somerset, *' I fear you 
 don't suit me well enough to make it neces- 
 sary that you should stay after this week." 
 
 Dare removed the cigarette from his lips 
 and bowed. " If I don't suit, the sooner I 
 go the better ; why wait the week ? " he said. 
 
 " Well, that's as you like." 
 
 Somerset drew the inkstand towards him, 
 wrote out a cheque for Dare's services, and 
 handed it across the table. 
 
 *' I'll not trouble you to-morrow," said 
 Dare, seeing that the payment included the 
 week in advance. 
 
 " Very well," replied Somerset. " Please 
 lock the door when you leave." Shaking 
 hands with Dare and wishing him well, he left 
 the room and descended to the lawn below. 
 
 There he contrived to get near Miss 
 Power again, and inquired of her for Miss 
 De Stancy. 
 
 '' Oh ! did you not know ? " said Paula ; 
 '' her father is unwell, and she preferred 
 staying with him this afternoon." 
 
238 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 *' I hoped he might have been here.'' 
 
 '' Oh no ; he never comes out of his house 
 to any party of this sort ; it excites him, and 
 he must not be excited." 
 
 '' Poor Sir WilHam ! " murmured Somerset. 
 
 '' No," said Paula, '' he is grand and 
 historical." 
 
 '' That is hardly an orthodox notion for a 
 Puritan," said Somerset mischievously. 
 
 '' I am not a Puritan," insisted Paula. 
 
 The day turned to dusk, and the guests 
 began going in relays to the dining-hall. 
 When Somerset had taken in two or three 
 ladies to whom he had been presented, and 
 attended to their wants, which occupied him 
 three quarters of an hour, he returned again 
 to the large tent, with a view to finding 
 Paula and taking his leave. It was now 
 brilliantly lighted up, and the musicians, who 
 during daylight had been invisible behind 
 the ash-tree, were ensconced at one end with 
 their harps and violins. It reminded him 
 that there was to be dancing. The tent had 
 in the mean time half filled with a new set 
 of young people who had come expressly for 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 239 
 
 that pastime. Behind the girls gathered 
 numbers of newly arrived young men with 
 low shoulders and diminutive moustaches, 
 who were evidently prepared for once to 
 sacrifice themselves as partners. 
 
 Somerset felt something of a thrill at the 
 sight. He was an infrequent dancer, and 
 particularly unprepared for dancing at pre- 
 sent ; but to dance once with Paula Power 
 he would give a year of his life. He looked 
 round ; but she was nowhere to be seen. 
 The first set began ; old and middle-aged 
 people gathered from the different rooms to 
 look on at the gyrations of their children, 
 but Paula did not appear. When another 
 dance or two had progressed, and an increase 
 in the average age of the dancers was making 
 itself perceptible, especially on the masculine 
 side, Somerset was aroused by a whisper at 
 his elbow : 
 
 " You dance, I think ? Miss Deverell is 
 disengaged. She has not been asked once 
 this evening." The speaker was Paula. 
 
 Somerset looked at Miss Deverell — a 
 sallow^ lady with black twinkling eyes, yellow 
 
240 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 costume, and gay laugh, who had been there 
 all the afternoon — and said something about 
 having thought of going home. 
 
 '' Is that because I asked you to dance ?" 
 she murmured. '' There — she is appro 
 priated." A young gentleman had at that 
 moment approached the uninviting Miss 
 Deverell, claimed her hand and led her 
 off. 
 
 " That's right," said Somerset. '' I ought 
 to leave room for younger men." 
 
 " You need not sav so. That bald-headed 
 gentleman is forty-five. He does not think 
 of younger men." 
 
 "■ H2iYQ you a dance to spare for me ? " 
 
 Her face grew stealthily redder in the 
 candle-light. " Oh ! — I have no engagement 
 at all — I have refused. I hardly feel at 
 liberty to dance ; it would be as well to leave 
 that to my visitors." 
 
 -Why?" 
 
 "My father, though he allowed me to be 
 taught, never liked the idea of my dancing." 
 
 ** Did he make you promise anything on 
 the point ? " 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 24 1 
 
 "He said he was not in favour of such 
 amusements — no more." 
 
 " I think you are not bound by that, on an 
 informal occasion hke the present." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " You will just once ? " said he. 
 
 Another silence. " If you like," she 
 venturesomely answered at last. 
 
 Somerset closed the hand which was 
 hanging by his side, and somehow hers was 
 in it. The dance was nearly formed, and 
 he led her forward. Several persons looked 
 at them significantly, but he did not notice 
 it then, and plunged into the maze. 
 
 Never had Mr. Somerset passed through 
 such an experience before. Had he not felt 
 her actual weight and warmth, he might have 
 fancied the whole episode a figment of the 
 imagination. It seemed as if those musicians 
 had thrown a double sweetness into their 
 notes on seeing the mistress of the castle in 
 the dance, that a perfumed southern atmo- 
 sphere had begun to pervade the marquee, 
 and that human beings were shaking them- 
 selves free of all inconvenient gravitation. 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Somerset's feelings burst from his lips. 
 *' This Is the happiest moment I have ever 
 known," he said. '' Do you know why ? " 
 
 '' I think I saw a flash of lightning through 
 the opening of the tent," said Paula, with 
 roguish abruptness. 
 
 He did not press for an answer. Within 
 a few minutes a long growl of thunder w^s 
 heard. It was as if Jove could not refrain 
 from testifying his jealousy of Somerset for 
 taking this covetable woman so presumptu- 
 ously in his arms. 
 
 The dance was over, and he had retired 
 with Paula to the back of the tent, when 
 another faint flash of lightning was visible 
 through an opening. She lifted the canvas, 
 and looked out, Somerset looking out behind 
 her. Another dance was begun, and, being 
 on this account left out of notice, Somerset 
 did not hasten to leave Paula's side. 
 
 '' I think they begin to feel the heat," she 
 said. 
 
 " A little ventilation w^ould do no harm." 
 He flung back the tent door where he stood, 
 and the light shone out upon the grass. 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 243 
 
 "I must go to the drawing-room soon," 
 she added. " They will begin to leave 
 shortly." 
 
 " It is not late. The thunder-cloud has 
 made it seem dark — see there ; a line of 
 pale yellow stretches along the horizon from 
 west to north. That's evening — not gone 
 y^. Shall we go into the fresh air for a 
 minute ? " 
 
 She seemed to signify assent, and he 
 stepped off the tent-floor upon the ground. 
 She stepped off also. 
 
 The air out-of-doors had not cooled, and 
 without definitely choosing a direction they 
 found themselves approaching a little wooden 
 tea-house that stood on the lawn a few yards 
 off. Arrived here, they turned, and regarded 
 the tent they had just left, and listened to the 
 strains that came from within it. 
 
 " I feel more at ease now," said Paula. 
 
 " So do I," said Somerset. 
 
 " I mean," she added in an undeceiving 
 tone, " because I saw Mrs. Goodman enter 
 the tent again just as we came out here ; so 
 I have no further responsibility." 
 
244 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '' I meant something quite different. Try 
 to guess what." 
 
 She teasingly demurred, finally breaking 
 the silence by saying, '' The rain is come at 
 last," as great drops began to fall upon the 
 ground with a smack, like pellets of clay. 
 
 In a moment the storm poured down with 
 sudden violence, and they drew further back 
 into the summer-house. The side of the 
 tent from which they had emerged still re- 
 mained open, the rain streaming down be- 
 tween their eyes and the lighted interior of 
 the marquee like a tissue of glass threads, the 
 brilliant forms of the dancers passing and 
 repassing behind the watery screen, as if they 
 were people in an enchanted submarine palace. 
 
 " How happy they are ! " said Paula. 
 '' They don't even know that it is raining. 
 I am so glad that my aunt had the tent 
 lined ; otherwise such a downpour would 
 have gone clean through it." 
 
 The thunder-storm showed no symptoms 
 of abatement, and the music and dancing 
 went on more merrily than ever. 
 
 ''We cannot ^o in," said Somerset. "And 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 245 
 
 we cannot shout for umbrellas. We will stay- 
 here till it is over, will we not ? " 
 
 '' Yes," she said, '' if you care to. Ah ! " 
 
 ''What is it?" 
 
 " Only a big drop came upon my head." 
 
 " Let us stand further in." 
 
 Her hand was hanging by her side, and 
 Somerset's was close by. He took it, and 
 she did not draw it away. Thus they stood 
 a long while, the rain hissing down upon 
 the grass-plot, and not a soul being visible 
 outside the dancing-tent save themselves. 
 
 " May I call you Paula ? " asked he. 
 
 " Yes, occasionally," she murmured. 
 
 " Dear Paula ! — may I call you that ? " 
 
 " Oh no— not yet." 
 
 " But you know I love you ? " he insisted. 
 
 " I can give a shrewd guess," she said slily. 
 
 " And shall I love you always ? " 
 
 "If you wish to." 
 
 " And will you love me ? " 
 
 Paula did not reply. 
 
 " Will you, Paula ? " he repeated. 
 
 " You may love me." 
 
 " But don't you love me in return ? " 
 
246 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '' I love you to love me." 
 
 " Won't you say anything more explicit ?" 
 
 '' Not a single word ! " 
 
 Somerset emitted half a sigh : he wished 
 she had been more demonstrative, yet felt 
 that this passive way of assenting was as 
 much as he could hope for. Had there 
 been anything cold in her passivity he might 
 have felt repressed ; but her stillness sug- 
 gested the stillness of motion imperceptible 
 from its intensity. 
 
 '' We must go In," said she. " The rain 
 is almost over, and there is no longer any 
 excuse for this," 
 
 Somerset bent his lips toward hers. 
 
 " No," said the fair Puritan decisively. 
 
 " Why not ? " he asked, 
 
 " Nobody ever has." 
 
 " But ! " expostulated Somerset 
 
 " To everything there Is a season, and the 
 season for this is not just now," she answered, 
 walking away. 
 
 They crossed the wet and glistening lawn, 
 stepped under the tent and parted. She 
 vanished, he did not know whither; and, 
 
GEORGE SOMERSET. 247 
 
 Standing- with his gaze fixed on the dancers, 
 the young man waited, till, being in no mood 
 to join them, he went slowly through the 
 artificial passage lined with flowers, and 
 entered the drawing-rooms. Mrs. Goodman 
 was there, bidding good-night to the early 
 goers, and Paula was just behind her, ap- 
 parently in her usual mood. His parting 
 with her was quite formal, but that he did 
 not mind, for her colour rose decidedly 
 higher as he approached, and the light in 
 her eyes was like the ray of a diamond. 
 
 When he reached the door he found that 
 his brougham from the King's Arms, which 
 had been waiting more than an hour, could 
 not be heard of. That vagrancy of spirit 
 which love induces would not permit him 
 to wait ; and, leaving word that the man 
 was to follow him when he returned, he 
 went past the glare of carriage-lamps ranked 
 in the ward, and under the outer arch. The 
 night was now clear and beautiful, and he 
 strolled along his way full of mysterious 
 elation till the vehicle overtook him, and he 
 got in. 
 
248 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Up to this point Somerset's progress In 
 his suit had been, though incomplete, so 
 uninterrupted, that he almost feared the 
 good chance he enjoyed. How should it 
 be in a mortal of his calibre to command 
 success with such a sweet woman for long ? 
 He might, indeed, turn out to be one of the 
 singular exceptions which are said to prove 
 rules ; but w^hen Fortune means to men 
 most good, observes the bard, she looks 
 upon them with a threatening eye. Somer- 
 set would even have been content that a 
 little disapproval of his course should have 
 occurred in some quarter, so as to make his 
 w^ooing more like ordinary life. But Paula 
 was not clearly won, and that was drawback 
 sufficient. In these phenomenal agonies and 
 questionable delights he passed the journey 
 to Markton. 
 
BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 DARE AND HAVILL. 
 
( 251 ) 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Young Dare sat thoughtfully at the window 
 of the studio in which Somerset had left 
 him, till the gay scene beneath became 
 embrowned by the twilight, and the brilliant 
 red stripes of the marquees, the bright sun- 
 shades, the many-tinted costumes of the 
 ladies, were indistinguishable from the blacks 
 and greys of the masculine contingent moving 
 among them. He had occasionally glanced 
 away from the outward prospect to study a 
 small old volume that lay before him on the 
 drawing-board. Near scrutiny revealed the 
 book to bear the title " Moivre s Doctrine 
 of Chances." 
 
 The evening had been so still that Dare 
 had heard conversations from below with a 
 
252 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 clearness unsuspected by the speakers them- 
 selves ; and among the dialogues which thus 
 reached his ears was that between Somerset 
 and Havlll on their professional rivalry. 
 When they parted, and SomerseJj^?Jaad 
 mingled with the throng, Havlll went to a 
 seat at a distance. Afterwards he rose, and 
 w^alked away ; but on the bench he had 
 quitted there remained a small object re- 
 sembling a book or leather case. 
 
 Dare put away the drawing-board and 
 plottlng-scales which he had kept before 
 him durlnor the evenlnor as a reason for his 
 presence at that post of espial, locked up 
 the door, and went downstairs. Notwith- 
 standing his dismissal by Somerset, he was 
 so serene In countenance and easy In gait 
 as to make It a fair conjecture that profes- 
 sional servitude, however profitable, was no 
 necessity with him. The gloom now rendered 
 it practicable for any unbidden guest to join 
 Paula's assemblage without criticism, and 
 Dare walked boldly out upon the lawn. 
 The crowd on the grass was rapidly dimin- 
 ishing ; the tennis-players had relinquished 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 253 
 
 Sport ; many people had gone in to dinner 
 or supper ; and many others, attracted by 
 the cheerful radiance of the candles, were 
 gathering In the large tent that had been 
 lighted up for dancing. 
 
 Dare went to the garden-chair on which 
 Havlll had been seated, and found the article 
 left behind to be a pocket-book. Whether 
 because It was unclasped and fell open In 
 his hand, or whether for any other reason, 
 he did not hesitate to examine the contents. 
 Among a mass of architects' customary 
 memoranda occurred a draft of the letter 
 abusing Paula as an iconoclast or Vandal 
 by blood, which had appeared In the news- 
 paper : the draft was so Interlined and 
 altered as to bear evidence of being the 
 original conception of that ungentlemanly 
 attack. 
 
 The lad read the letter, smiled, and strolled 
 about the grounds, only met by an occasional 
 pair of individuals of opposite sex in deep 
 conversation, the state of whose emotions 
 led them to prefer the evening shade to the 
 publicity and glare of the tents and rooms. 
 
2 54 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 At last he observed the white waistcoat of 
 the man he sought. 
 
 "Mr. Havlll, the architect, I beheve?" 
 said Dare. " The author of most of the note- 
 worthy buildings In this neighbourhood ? " 
 
 Havlll assented blandly. 
 
 " I have long wished for the pleasure of 
 your acquaintance, and now an accident helps 
 me to make it. This pocket-book, I think, 
 Is yours ? " 
 
 Havlll clapped his hand to his pocket, 
 examined the book Dare held out to him, 
 and took it with thanks. '' I see I am 
 speaking to the artist, archaeologist, Gothic 
 photographer — Mr. Dare." 
 
 " Professor Dare." 
 
 " Professor ? Pardon me, I should not 
 have guessed it — so young as you are." 
 
 '' Well, it Is merely ornamental ; and in 
 truth, I drop the title In England, particularly 
 under present circumstances." 
 
 '' Ah — they are peculiar, perhaps ? Ah, I 
 remember. I have heard that you are 
 assisting a gentleman in preparing a design 
 in opposition to mine — a design " 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 255 
 
 (( ( 
 
 That he is not. competent to pre- 
 pare himself,' you were perhaps going to 
 add ? " 
 
 " Not precisely that." 
 
 "You could hardly be blamed for such 
 words. However, you are mistaken. I did 
 assist him, to gain a little further insight 
 into the working of architectural plans ; but 
 our views on art are antagonistic, and I 
 assist him no more. Mr. Havill, it must 
 be very provoking to a well-established pro- 
 fessional man to have a rival sprung at him 
 in a grand undertaking which he had a right 
 to expect as his own." 
 
 Professional sympathy is often accepted 
 from those whose condolence on any domestic 
 matter would be considered intrusive. Havill 
 walked up and down beside Dare for a few 
 moments in silence, and at last showed that 
 the words had told, by saying : " Every one 
 may have his opinion. Had I been a 
 stranger to the Power family, the case would 
 have been different ; but having been specially 
 elected by the lady's father as a competent 
 adviser in such matters, and then to be de- 
 
256 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 graded to the position of a mere competitor, 
 it wounds me to the quick — " 
 
 " Both in purse and in person, Hke the ill- 
 used hostess of the Garter." 
 
 '' A lady to whom I have been a staunch 
 friend," continued Havill, not heeding the 
 interruption. 
 
 At that moment sounds seemed to come 
 from Dare which bore a remarkable resem- 
 blance to the words, "Ho, ho, Havill!" It 
 was hardly credible, and yet, could he be 
 mistaken ? Havill turned. Dare's eye was 
 twisted comically upward. 
 
 " What does that mean ? " said Havill coldly, 
 and with some amazement. 
 
 '' Ho, ho, Havill ! ' Staunch friend ' is good 
 — especially after ' an iconoclast and Vandal 
 by blood'- — 'monstrosity in the form of a 
 Greek temple,' and so on, eh ! " 
 
 " Sir, you have the advantage of me. Per- 
 haps you allude to that anonymous letter ? " 
 
 *' O — ho, Havill ! " repeated the boy-man, 
 turning his eyes yet further towards the 
 zenith. " To an outsider such conduct would 
 be natural ; but to a friend who finds your 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 257 
 
 pocket-book, and looks into it before returning 
 it, and kindly removes a leaf bearing the draft 
 of a letter which might injure you if discovered 
 there, and carefully conceals it in his own 
 pocket — why, such conduct is unkind ! " Dare 
 held up the abstracted leaf. 
 
 Havill trembled. *' I can explain," he 
 began. 
 
 " It is not necessary : we are friends," said 
 Dare assuringly. 
 
 Havill looked as if he would like to snatch 
 the leaf away, but altering his mind, he said, 
 grimly : " Well, I take you at your word : we 
 are friends. That letter was concocted before 
 I knew of the competition : it was during my 
 first disgust, when I believed myself entirely 
 supplanted." 
 
 " I am not in the least surprised. But if 
 she knew yoz^ to be the writer ! " 
 
 '' I should be ruined as far as this compe- 
 tition is concerned," said Havill carelessly. 
 *' Had I known I was to be invited to com- 
 pete, I should not have written it, of course. 
 To be supplanted is hard ; and thereby hangs 
 a tale." 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
258 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 " Another tale ? you astonish me." 
 
 " Then you have not heard the scandal, 
 though everybody is talking about it." 
 
 '' A scandal implies indecorum." 
 
 ''Well, 'tis indecorous. Her infatuated 
 partiality for him is patent to the eyes of a 
 child ; a man she has only known a few weeks, 
 and one who obtained admission to her house 
 in the most irregular manner ! Had she a 
 watchful friend beside her, instead of that 
 moonstruck Mrs. Goodman, she would be 
 cautioned against bestowing her favours on 
 the first adventurer who appears at her door. 
 It is a pity, a great pity ! " 
 
 " Oh, there is love-making in the wind ? " 
 said Dare slowly. " That alters the case for 
 me. But it is not proved ? " 
 
 " It can easily be proved." 
 
 *' I wish it were, or disproved." 
 
 " You have only to come this way to clear 
 up all doubts." 
 
 Havill took the lad towards the tent, from 
 which the strains of a waltz now proceeded, 
 and on whose sides flitting shadows told of 
 the progress of the dance. The companions 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 259 
 
 looked in. The rosy silk lining of the mar- 
 quee, and the numerous coronas of wax lights, 
 formed a canopy to a radiant scene which, to 
 two at least of those who composed it, was an 
 Intoxicating one. Paula and Somerset were 
 dancing together. 
 
 " That proves nothing," said Dare. 
 
 *' Look at their rapt faces, and say if It does 
 not," sneered Havill. 
 
 Dare objected to a judgment based on looks 
 alone. 
 
 " Very well — time will show," said the ar- 
 chitect, dropping the tent-curtain. . » . Good 
 God ! a girl worth fifty thousand and more a 
 year to throw herself away upon a fellow like 
 that — she ought to be whipped." 
 
 '' Time must 7iot show ! " said Dare. 
 
 " You speak with emphasis." 
 
 '' I have reason. I would give something 
 to be sure on this point, one way or the other. 
 Let us wait till the dance is over, and observe 
 them more carefully. Horeiisagen ist halb 
 gelogen ! Hearsay is half lies." 
 
 Sheet-lightnings increased in the northern 
 sky, followed by thunder like the indistinct 
 
260 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 noise of a battle. Havlll and Dare retired to 
 the trees. When the dance ended Somerset 
 and his partner emerged from the tent, and 
 slowly moved towards the tea-house. Divin- 
 ing their goal Dare seized Havill's arm ; and 
 the two worthies entered the building unseen, 
 by first passing round behind it. They seated 
 themselves in the back part of the interior, 
 where darkness prevailed. 
 
 As before related, Paula and Somerset 
 came and stood within the door. When the 
 rain increased they drew themselves further 
 inward, their forms being distinctly outlined 
 to the gaze of those lurking behind by the 
 light from the tent beyond. But the hiss of 
 the falling rain and the lowness of their tones 
 prevented their words from being heard. 
 
 " I w^ish myself out of this ! " breathed 
 Havill to Dare as he buttoned his coat over 
 his white waistcoat. '' I told you it was true, 
 but you wouldn't believe. I wouldn't she 
 should catch me here eavesdropping for the 
 world ! " 
 
 " Courage, Man Friday," said his cooler 
 com.rade. 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 26 1 
 
 Paula and her lover backed yet further, till 
 the hem of her skirt touched Havill's feet. 
 Their attitudes were sufficient to prove their 
 relations to the most obstinate Didymus who 
 should have witnessed them. Tender emo- 
 tions seemed to pervade the summer-house 
 like an aroma. The calm ecstasy of the con- 
 dition of at least one of them was not without 
 a coercive effect upon the two invidious 
 spectators, so that they must need have re- 
 mained passive had they come there to disturb 
 or annoy. The serenity of Paula was even 
 more impressive than the hushed ardour 
 of Somerset : she did not satisfy curiosity as 
 Somerset satisfied it ; she piqued it. Poor 
 Somerset had reached a perfectly intelligible 
 depth — one which had a single blissful way 
 out of it, and nine calamitous ones ; but 
 Paula remained an enigma all through the 
 scene. 
 
 The rain ceased, and the pair moved 
 away. The enchantment worked by their 
 presence vanished, the details of the meeting 
 settled down in the watchers' minds, and their 
 tongues were loosened. Dare, turning to 
 
262 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Havlll, said, '' Thank you ; you have done 
 me a timely turn to-day." 
 
 ** What ! had you hopes that way ? " asked 
 Havill, satirically. 
 
 '' I ! The woman that Interests my heart 
 has yet to be born," said Dare, with a steely 
 coldness strange in such a juvenile, and yet 
 almost convincing. *' But though I have not 
 personal hopes, I have an objection to this 
 courtship. Now I think we may as well 
 fraternise, the situation being what it is ? " 
 
 " What Is the situation ? " 
 
 " He is in your way as her architect ; he Is 
 in my way as her lover : we don't want to 
 hurt him, but we wish him clean out of the 
 neighbourhood. " 
 
 *' I'll go as far as that," said Havill. 
 
 " I have come here at some trouble to 
 myself, merely to observe : I find I ought to 
 stay to act." 
 
 *' If you were myself, a married man with 
 people dependent on him, who has had a pro- 
 fessional certainty turned to a miserably 
 remote contingency by these events, you 
 might say you ought to act ; but what con- 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 26 
 
 O 
 
 ceivable difference it can make to you who it 
 is the young lady takes to her heart and 
 home, I '^ail to understand." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you — thus much at least. 
 I want to keep the place vacant for another 
 
 man." 
 
 " The place ? " 
 
 " The place of husband to Miss Power, and 
 proprietor of that castle and domain." 
 
 *' That's a scheme with a veno-eance. Who 
 
 o 
 
 is the man ? " 
 
 "It is my secret at present." 
 
 " Certainly." Havill drew a deep breath, 
 and dropped into a tone of depression. 
 " Well, scheme as you will, there will be small 
 advantage to me," he murmured. " The 
 castle commission is as good as gone, and a 
 bill for two hundred pounds falls due next 
 week." 
 
 " Cheer up, heart ! My position, if you 
 only knew it, has ten times the difficulties of 
 yours, since this disagreeable discovery. Let 
 us consider if we can assist each other. The 
 competition drawings are to be sent in — 
 when ? " 
 
264 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 " In somethlnor over six weeks — a fortnis^ht 
 before she returns from Brighton, for which 
 place she leaves here in a few days." 
 
 '' Oh, she goes away — that's better. Our 
 lover will be working here at his drawings, 
 and she not present." 
 
 '' Exactly. Perhaps she is a little ashamed 
 of the intimacy." 
 
 '' And if your design is considered best by 
 the committee, he will have no further reason 
 for staying, assuming that they are not defi- 
 nitely engaged to marry by that time ? " 
 
 " I suppose so," murmured Havill discon- 
 tentedly. '' The conditions, as sent to me, 
 state that the designs are to be adjudicated 
 on by three members of the Institute called 
 in for the purpose ; so that she may return, 
 and have seemed to show no favour." 
 
 " Then it amounts to this : your design 
 mus^ be best. It must combine the excel- 
 lences of your invention with the excellences 
 of his. Meanwhile a coolness should be 
 made to arise between her and him : and as 
 there would be no artistic reason for his 
 presence here after the verdict is pronounced, 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 265 
 
 he would perforce hie back to town. Do 
 you see ? " 
 
 " I see the ingenuity of the plan, but I 
 also see two insurmountable obstacles to it. 
 The first is, I cannot add the excellences 
 of his design to mine without knowing what 
 those excellences are, which he will of course 
 keep a secret. Second, it will not be easy 
 to promote a coolness between such hot ones 
 as they." 
 
 '' You make a mistake. It is only he who 
 is so ardent. She is only lukewarm. If we 
 had any spirit, a bargain would be struck 
 between us : you would appropriate his de- 
 sign ; I should cause the coolness." 
 
 '' How could I appropriate his design ?" 
 
 '' By copying it, I suppose." 
 
 " Copying it ? " 
 
 " By going into his studio and looking it 
 over." 
 
 Havill turned to Dare, and stared. '* By 
 George, you don't stick at trifles, young 
 man ! You don't suppose I would go into 
 a man's rooms and steal his inventions like 
 that ? " 
 
266 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 " I scarcely suppose you would/' said Dare 
 indifferently, as he rose. 
 
 " And if I were to," said Havill curiously, 
 " how is the coolness to be caused ? " 
 
 " By the second man." 
 
 ** Who is to produce him ? " 
 
 ''Her Majesty's Government." 
 
 Havill looked meditatively at his com- 
 panion, and shook his head. ''In these idle 
 suppositions we have been assuming conduct 
 which would be quite against my principles 
 as an honest man." 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 267 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A FEW days after the party at Stancy Castle 
 Dare was walking down the High Street of 
 Markton, a cigarette between his lips and 
 a silver- topped cane in his hand. His eye 
 fell upon a brass plate on an opposite door, 
 bearing the name of Mr. Havill, Architect. 
 He crossed over, and rang the office bell. 
 
 The clerk who admitted him stated that 
 Mr. Havill was in his private room, and 
 would be disengaged in a short time. While 
 Dare waited the clerk affixed to the door a 
 piece of paper bearing the words '' Back 
 at 2," and went away to his dinner, leaving 
 Dare in the room alone. 
 
 Dare looked at the different drawings on 
 the boards about the room. They all repre- 
 sented one subject, which, though unfinished 
 
268 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 as yet, and bearing no inscription, was re- 
 cognized by the visitor as the design for 
 the enlargement and restoration of Stancy 
 Castle. When he had glanced it over Dare 
 sat down. 
 
 The doors between the office and private 
 room were double ; but the one towards the 
 office being only ajar Dare could hear a con- 
 versation in progress within. It presently 
 arose to an altercation, the tenour of which 
 was obvious. Somebody had come for 
 money. 
 
 " Really I can stand It no longer, Mr. 
 Havill — really I will not ! " said the creditor 
 excitedly. "Now this bill overdue again 
 — what can you expect ? Why, I might 
 have negotiated it ; and where would you 
 have been then ? Instead of that, I have 
 locked It up out of consideration for you ; 
 and what do I get for my conslderateness ? 
 I shall let the law take its course ! " 
 
 '' You'll do me inexpressible harm, and 
 get nothing whatever," said Havill. " If 
 you would renew for another three months 
 there would be r.o difficulty In the matter." 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 269 
 
 " You have said so before : I will do no 
 such thing." 
 
 There was a silence ; whereupon Dare 
 arose without hesitation, and walked boldly 
 into the private office. Havlll was standing 
 at one end, as gloomy as a thundercloud, and 
 at the other was the unfortunate creditor with 
 his hat on. Though Dare's entry surprised 
 them, both parties seemed relieved. 
 
 '' I have called in passing to congratulate 
 you, Mr. Havill," said Dare gaily. '' Such 
 a commission as has been entrusted to you 
 will make you famous ! " 
 
 *' How do you do ? — I wish it would make 
 me rich," said Havill drily. 
 
 ''It will be a lift in that direction, from 
 what I know of the profession. What is she 
 going to spend ? " 
 
 *'A hundred thousand." 
 
 " Your commission as architect, fiY^ thou- 
 sand. Not bad, for making a few sketches. 
 Consider what other great commissions such 
 a work will lead to." 
 
 " What great work is this } " asked the 
 creditor, pricking up his ears. 
 
270 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 ''Stancy Castle," said Dare, since Havill 
 seemed too agape to answer. ''You have 
 not heard of it, then ? Those are the 
 drawings, I presume, in the next room ? " 
 
 Havill replied in the affirmative, beginning 
 to perceive the manoeuvre. '' Perhaps you 
 would like to see them ? " he said to the 
 creditor. 
 
 The latter offered no objection, and all 
 three went into the drawing-office. 
 
 " It will certainly be a magnificent structure," 
 said the creditor, after regarding the eleva- 
 tions through his spectacles. ''Stancy Castle: 
 I had no idea of it ! and when do you begin 
 to build, Mr. Havill ? " he inquired in mollified 
 tones. 
 
 ''In three months, I think?" said Dare, 
 looking to Havill. 
 
 Havill assented. 
 
 " Five thousand pounds commission," mur- 
 mured the creditor. " Paid down, I sup- 
 pose r 
 
 Havill nodded. 
 
 "And the works will not linger for lack 
 of money to carry them out, I imagine," said. 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 27 1 
 
 Dare. " Two hundred thousand will pro- 
 bably be spent before the work is finished." 
 
 " There is not much doubt of it," said 
 Havill. 
 
 " You said nothing to me about this ? " 
 whispered the creditor to Havill, taking him 
 aside, with a look of regret. 
 
 " You would not listen ! " 
 
 " It alters the case greatly." The creditor 
 retired with Havill to the door, and after a 
 subdued colloquy in the passage he went 
 away, Havill returning to the office. 
 
 " What the devil do you mean by hoaxing 
 him like this, when the job is no more mine 
 than Inigo Jones's ?" 
 
 " Don't be too curious," said Dare, laughing. 
 '' Rather thank me for getting rid of him." 
 
 " But it is all a vision ! " said Havill, 
 ruefully regarding the pencilled towers of 
 Stancy Castle. " If the competition were 
 really the commission that you have repre- 
 sented it to be there might be something to 
 laugh at." 
 
 " It must be made a commission, some- 
 how," returned Dare carelessly. " I am 
 
272 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 come to lend you a little assistance. I 
 must stay in the neighbourhood, and I have 
 nothing else to do." 
 
 A carriage slowly passed the window, 
 and Havill recognized the Power liveries. 
 *' Hullo — she's coming here ! " he said under 
 his breath as the carriage stopped by the 
 kerb. *' What does she want, I wonder ? 
 Dare, does she know you ? " 
 
 " I would just as soon be out of the way." 
 
 ** Then go into the garden." 
 
 Dare went out through the back office as 
 Paula was shown in at the front. She wore 
 a grey travelling costume, and seemed to be 
 in some haste. 
 
 *' I am on my way to the railway-station," 
 she said to Havill. '' I shall be absent 
 from home for several weeks, and since you 
 requested it, I have called to inquire how 
 you are getting on with the design." 
 
 " Please look it over," said Havill, placing 
 a seat for her. 
 
 ^*No," said Paula. "I think it would be 
 
 unfair. I have not looked at Mr. the 
 
 other architect's plans since he has begun 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 273 
 
 to design seriously, and I will not look at 
 yours. Are you getting on quite well, and 
 do you want to know anything more ? If 
 so, go to the castle, and get anybody to 
 assist you. Why would you not make use 
 of the room at your disposal In the castle, 
 as the other architect has done ? '' 
 
 In asking the question her face was towards 
 the window, and suddenly her cheeks became 
 a rosy red. She Instantly looked another 
 way. 
 
 ** Having my own office so near. It was 
 not necessary, thank you," replied Havill, 
 as, noting her countenance, he allowed his 
 glance to stray Into the street. Somerset 
 was walking past on the opposite side. 
 
 '' The time is — the time fixed for sending 
 In the drawings Is the first of November, 
 I believe," she said confusedly ; '' and the 
 decision will be come to by three gentlemen 
 who are prominent members of the Institute 
 of Architects." 
 
 Havill then accompanied her to the carriage, 
 and she drove away. 
 
 Havill went to the back window to tell 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
2 74 ^ LAODICEAN. 
 
 Dare that he need not stay In the garden ; 
 but the garden was empty. The architect 
 remained alone In his office for some time ; 
 at the end of a quarter of an hour, when the 
 scream of a railway whistle had echoed down 
 the still street, he beheld Somerset repassing 
 the window In a direction from the railway, 
 with somewhat of a sad gait. In another 
 minute Dare entered, humming the latest air 
 from Offenbach. 
 
 " 'TIs a mere piece of duplicity ! " said 
 Havlll. 
 
 -What Is?" 
 
 " Her pretending Indifference as to which 
 of us comes out successful In the competition, 
 when she colours carmine the moment Somer- 
 set passes by." He described Paula's visit, 
 and the Incident. 
 
 *' It may not mean Cupid's Entire XXX 
 after all," said Dare judicially. " The mere 
 suspicion that a certain man loves her would 
 make a girl blush at his unexpected appear- 
 ance. Well, she's gone from him for a time ; 
 the better for you." 
 
 *' He has been privileged to see her off at 
 any rate." 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 275 
 
 '' Not privileged." 
 
 '' How do you know that ? '* 
 
 " I went out of your garden by the back- 
 gate, and followed her carriage to the railway. 
 He simply went to the first bridge outside the 
 station, and waited. When she was in the 
 train, it moved forward ; he was all expecta- 
 tion, and drew out his handkerchief ready to 
 wave, while she looked out of the window 
 towards the bridge. The train backed before 
 it reached the bridge, to attach the box con- 
 taining her horses, and the carriage-truck. 
 Then it started for good, and when it reached 
 the bridge she looked out again, he waving 
 his handkerchief to her." 
 
 " And she waving hers back ? " 
 
 " No, she didn't." 
 
 '^ Ah ! " 
 
 '' She looked at him — nothing more. I 
 wouldn't eive much for his chance." After a 
 while Dare added musingly : " You are a 
 mathematician : did you ever investigate the 
 doctrine of expectations ? " 
 
 '' Never." 
 
 Dare drew from his pocket his " Book of 
 
276 , A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Chances," a volume as well thumbed as the 
 minister's Bible. " This is a treatise on the 
 subject," he said. " I will teach it to you 
 some day." 
 
 The same evening Havill asked Dare to 
 dine with him. He was just at this time 
 living eu garcon, his wife and children being 
 away on a visit. After dinner they sat on 
 till their faces were rather flushed. The talk 
 turned, as before, on the castle-competition. 
 
 " To know his deslo^n is to Avin," said Dare. 
 *' And to win is to send him back to London 
 where he came from." 
 
 Havill inquired if Dare had seen any 
 sketch of the design while with Somerset ? 
 
 "Not a line. I was concerned only w^Ith 
 the old building." 
 
 " Not to know It Is to lose, undoubtedly," 
 murmured Havill. 
 
 " Suppose we go for a walk that way, in- 
 stead of consulting here ? " 
 
 They went down the town, and along the 
 highway. When they reached the entrance 
 to the park a man driving a basket-carriage 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 277 
 
 came out from the gate and passed them by 
 in the gloom. 
 
 " That was he," said Dare. ''He some- 
 times drives over from the hotel, and some- 
 times walks. He has been working late this 
 evening." 
 
 Strolling on under the trees they met three 
 masculine figures, laughing and talking loudly. 
 
 '' Those are the three first-class London 
 draughtsmen, Bowles, Knowles, and Cockton, 
 whom he has engaged to assist him, regard- 
 less of expense," continued Dare. 
 
 " O Lord ! " groaned Havill. '* There's no 
 chance for me." 
 
 The castle now arose before them, endowed 
 by the rayless shade with a more massive 
 majesty than either sunlight or moonlight 
 could impart ; and Havill sighed again as he 
 thought of what he was losing by Somerset's 
 rivalry. " Well, what was the use of coming 
 here ? " he asked. 
 
 '' I thought it might suggest something — 
 some way of seeing the design. The ser- 
 vants would let us into his room, I dare 
 say." 
 
278 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 *' I don't care to ask. Let us walk through 
 the wards, and then homeward." 
 
 They sauntered on smoking, Dare leading 
 the way through the gate-house into a corridor 
 which was not inclosed, a lamp hanging at 
 the further end. 
 
 " We are getting into the inhabited part, I 
 think," said Havill. 
 
 Dare, however, had gone on, and knowing 
 the tortuous passages from his few days' ex- 
 perience in measuring them with Somerset, 
 he came to the butler's pantry. Dare knocked, 
 and nobody answering he entered, took down 
 a key which hung behind the door, and re- 
 joined Havill. " It is all right," he said. 
 " The cat's aw^ay ; and the mice are at play 
 in consequence." 
 
 Proceedincr uo a stone staircase he un- 
 locked the door of a room In the dark, struck 
 a light Inside, and returning to the door called 
 in a whisper to Havill, who had remained 
 behind. " This is Mr. Somierset's studio," he 
 said. 
 
 '' How did you get permission ? " inquired 
 Havill, not knowing that Dare had seen no- 
 one. 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 279 
 
 '' Anyhow," said Dare, carelessly. " We 
 can examine the plans at leisure ; for if the 
 placid Mrs. Goodman, who is the only one at 
 home, sees the light, she will only think it is 
 Somerset still at work." 
 
 Dare uncovered the drawings, and young 
 Somerset's brain-work for the last six weeks 
 lay under their eyes. To Dare, who was too 
 cursory to trouble himself by entering into 
 such details, it had very little meaning ; but 
 the design shone into Havill's head like a 
 light Into a dark place. It was original ; and 
 it was fascinating. Its originality lay partly 
 in the circumstance that Somerset had not 
 attempted to adapt an old building to the 
 wants of the new civilisation. He had placed 
 his new erection beside it as a slightly attached 
 structure, harmonising with the old ; heighten- 
 ing and beautifying, rather than subduing it. 
 His work formed a palace, with a ruinous 
 castle annexed as a curiosity. To Havlll the 
 conception had more charm than It could have 
 to the most appreciative outsider ; for when 
 a mediocre and jealous mind that has been 
 cudgelling Itself over a problem capable of 
 
28o ^ A LAODICEAN. 
 
 many solutions, lights on the solution of a 
 rival, all possibilities In that kind seem to 
 mero^e in the one beheld. 
 
 Dare was struck by the arrested expression 
 of the architect's face. ''Is it rather good ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes, rather," said Havlll, subduing him- 
 self. 
 
 '' More than rather ? " 
 
 " Yes, the clever devil ! " exclaimed Havlll, 
 unable to depreciate longer. 
 
 '' How } " 
 
 '' The enigma that has worried me three 
 weeks he has solved in a w^ay which is sim- 
 plicity itself. He has got it, and I am un- 
 done ! " 
 
 '' Nonsense, don't give way. Let's make a 
 tracing." 
 
 '' The ground-plan will be sufficient," said 
 Havlll, his courage reviving. " The idea is 
 so simple, that if once seen it is not easily 
 forgotten." 
 
 A rough tracing of Somerset's design was 
 quickly made, and blowing out the candle 
 with a wave of his hand the younger gentle- 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. ^ 28 1 
 
 man locked the door, and they went down- 
 stairs again. 
 
 " I should never have thought of it," said 
 Havill, as they walked homeward. 
 
 " One man has need of another every ten 
 years : Oo-m died anni tm uo7Jio ha bisogjio 
 deir altro, as they say in Italy. You'll help 
 me for this turn if I have need of you ? " 
 
 " I shall never have the power." 
 
 *' Oh yes you will. A man who can contrive 
 to get admitted to a competition by writing a 
 letter abusing another man has any amount of 
 power. The stroke was a good one." 
 
 Havill was silent till he said, '' I think 
 these o^usts mean that we are to have a storm 
 of rain." 
 
 Dare looked up. The sky was overcast, 
 the trees shivered, and a drop or two began to 
 strike into the walkers' coats from the east. 
 They were not far from the inn at Sleeping- 
 Green, where Dare had lodgings, occupying 
 the rooms which had been used by Somerset 
 till he gave them up for more commodious 
 chambers at Markton ; and they decided to 
 turn in there till the rain should be over. 
 
25 2 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Having possessed himself of Somerset's 
 brains Havill was inclined to be jovial, and 
 ordered the best in wines that the house 
 afforded. Before starting from home they 
 had drunk as much as was good for them ; so 
 that their potations here soon began to have 
 a marked effect upon their tongues. The 
 rain beat upon the windows with a dull dogged 
 pertinacity which seemed to signify boundless 
 reserves of the same and long continuance. 
 The wind rose, the sign creaked, and the 
 candles waved. The weather had, in truth, 
 broken up for the season, and this was the 
 first night of the change. 
 
 *' Well, here we are," said Havill, as he 
 poured out another glass of the brandied 
 liquor called old port at Sleeping- Green ; 
 " and it seems that here v/e are to remain for 
 the present." 
 
 " I am at home anywhere ! " cried the lad, 
 whose brow was hot and eye vv^ild. 
 
 Havill, who had not drunk enough to affect 
 his reasoning, held up his glass to the light 
 and said, " I never can quite make out what 
 you are, or what your age is. Are you six- 
 
DARE AND IIAVILL. 283 
 
 teen, one-and-twenty, or twenty-seven ? And 
 are you an Englishman, Frenchman, Indian, 
 American, or what ? You seem not to have 
 taken your degrees in these parts." 
 
 " That's a secret, my friend," said Dare. '' I 
 am a citizen of the v/orld. I owe no country 
 patriotism, and no king or queen obedience. 
 A man whose country has no boundary is 
 your only true gentleman." 
 
 *' Well," where were you born — somewhere, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 "It v/ould be a fact worth the telling. 
 The secret of my birth lies here." And Dare 
 slapped his breast with his right hand. 
 
 *' Literally, just under your shirt-front ; or 
 figuratively. In your heart ? " asked Havill. 
 
 " Literally there. It Is necessary that It 
 should be recorded, for one's own memory is 
 a treacherous book of reference, should veri- 
 fication be required at a time of delirium, 
 disease, or death." 
 
 Havill asked no further v/hat he meant, 
 and Avent to the door. Finding that the rain 
 still continued he returned to Dare, who was 
 by this time sinking down In a one-sided 
 
284 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 attitude, as If hung up by the shoulder. In- 
 forming his companion that he was but little 
 inclined to move far in such a tempestuous 
 night, he decided to remain in the inn till 
 next morning. 
 
 On calling in the landlord, however, they 
 learnt that the house was full of farmers on 
 their way home from a large sheep-fair In the 
 neighbourhood, and that several of these, 
 having decided to stay on account of the same 
 tempestuous weather, had already engaged 
 the spare beds. If Mr. Dare would give up 
 his room, and share a double-bedded room 
 with Mr. Havlll, the thing could be done, but 
 not otherwise. 
 
 To this the two companions agreed, and 
 presently went upstairs with as gentlemanly 
 a v/alk and vertical a candle as they could 
 exhibit under the circumstances. 
 
 The other Inmates of the Inn soon retired 
 to rest, and the storm raged on unheeded 
 by all local humanity. 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 285 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At two o'clock the rain lessened its fury. 
 At half-past two the obscured moon shone 
 forth ; and at three Havill awoke. The 
 blind had not been pulled down overnight, 
 and the moonlight streamed into the room, 
 across the bed whereon Dare was sleeping. 
 He lay on his back, his arms thrown out ; 
 and his well-curved youthful form looked 
 like an unpedestaled Dionysus in the colour- 
 less lunar rays. 
 
 Sleep had cleared HavilFs mind from the 
 drowsing effects of the last night's sitting, 
 and he thought of Dare s mysterious manner 
 in speaking of himself. This lad resembled 
 the Etruscan youth Tages, in one respect^ 
 that of being a boy with, seemingly, the 
 wisdom of a sa^e ; and the effect of his 
 
2 86 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 presence was now heightened by all those 
 sinister and mystic attributes which are lent 
 by nocturnal environment. He who in 
 broad daylight might be but a young che- 
 valier cC indush'-ie was now an unlimited 
 possibility In social phenomena. Havill re- 
 membered how the lad had pointed to his 
 breast, and said that his secret was literally 
 kept there. The architect was too much of 
 a provincial to have quenched the common 
 curiosity that was part of his nature by the 
 acquired metropolitan indifference to other 
 people's lives which, in essence more un- 
 worthy even than the former, causes less 
 practical inconvenience in its exercise. 
 
 Dare was breathing profoundly. Insti- 
 gated as above mentioned, Havill got out 
 of bed and stood beside the sleeper. After 
 a moment's pause he gently pulled back the 
 unfastened collar of Dare's nightshirt and 
 saw a word tattooed in distinct characters on 
 his breast. Before there was time for Havill 
 to decipher it Dare moved slightly, as If 
 conscious of disturbance, and Havill hastened 
 back to bed. Dare bestirred himself yet 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 287 
 
 more, whereupon Havill breathed heavll}^ 
 though keeping an intent glance on the lad 
 through his half-closed eyes to learn if he 
 had been aware of the investigation. 
 
 Dare was certainly conscious of something, 
 for he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and gazed 
 around the room ; then after a few moments 
 of reflection he drew some article from 
 beneath his pillow. A blue gleam shone 
 from the object as Dare held it in the 
 moonlight, and Havill perceived that it was 
 a small revolver. 
 
 A clammy dew broke out upon the face 
 and body of the architect when, stepping 
 out of bed with the weapon in his hand, 
 Dare looked under the bed, behind the 
 curtains, out of the window, and into a 
 closet, as if convinced that something had 
 occurred, but in doubt as to what it was. 
 He then came across to where Havill was 
 lying and still keeping up the appearance of 
 sleep. Watching him awhile and mistrusting 
 the reality of this semblance. Dare brought 
 it to the test by holding the revolver within 
 a few inches of Havills forehead. 
 
288 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Havlll could stand no more. Crystallised 
 with terror he said, without however moving 
 more than his lips, in dread of hasty action 
 on the part of Dare : " Oh, good Lord, Dare, 
 Dare, I have done nothing ! " 
 
 The youth smiled and lowered the pistol. 
 " I was only finding out whether it was you 
 or some burglar who had been playing tricks 
 upon me. I find it was you." 
 
 " Do put away that thing ! It is too 
 ghastly to produce in a respectable bedroom. 
 Why do you carry it ! " 
 
 " Cosmopolites always do. Now answer 
 my questions. What were you up to ? " 
 and Dare as he spoke played with the pistol 
 again. 
 
 Havill had recovered some coolness. " You 
 could not use It upon me," he said sardoni- 
 cally, watching Dare. " It would be risking 
 your neck for too little an object." 
 
 " I did not think you were shrewd enough 
 to see that," replied Dare carelessly, as he 
 returned the revolver to its place. *' Well, 
 whether you have outwitted me or no, you 
 will keep the secret as long as I choose." 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 289 
 
 - Why ? " said Havlll. 
 
 " Because I keep your secret of the letter 
 abusing Miss P., and of the pilfered tracing 
 you carry in your pocket." 
 
 " It is quite true," said Havill. ^ 
 
 They went to bed again. Dare was soon 
 asleep ; but Havill did not attempt to disturb 
 him again. The elder man slept but fitfully. 
 He was aroused in the morning by a heavy 
 rumbling and jingling along the highway 
 overlooked by the window, the front wall of 
 the house being shaken by the reverberation. 
 
 " There is no rest for me here," he said, 
 rising and going to the window, carefully 
 avoiding the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare. 
 When Havill had glanced out he returned 
 to dress himself. 
 
 ** What's that noise ? " said Dare, awakened 
 by the same rumble. 
 
 " It is the Artillery going away." 
 
 " From where ? " 
 
 " Markton barracks." 
 
 '' Hurrah ! " said Dare, jumping up in 
 bed. " I have been waiting for that these 
 six weeks." 
 
 VOL. I. u 
 
290 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 Havill did not ask questions as to the 
 meaning of this unexpected remark. 
 
 When they were downstairs Dare's first 
 act was to ring the bell and ask If his Army 
 ana Navy Gazette had arrived. 
 
 While the servant was gone Havill cleared 
 his throat and said, " I am an architect, and 
 I take In the Architect ; you are an architect, 
 and you take in the Army and Navy 
 Gazetted 
 
 " I am not an architect any more than I 
 am a soldier ; but I have taken In the Army 
 and Navy Gazette these many weeks." 
 
 When they were at breakfast the paper 
 came in. Dare hastily tore it open and 
 glanced at the pages. 
 
 '' I am going to Markton after breakfast ! " 
 he said suddenly, before looking up ; " we 
 will walk together, If you like ? " 
 
 They walked together as planned, and 
 entered Markton about ten o'clock. 
 
 ** I have just to make a call here," said 
 Dare, when they were opposite the barrack- 
 entrance on the outskirts of the town, where 
 wheel- tracks and a regular chain of hoof- 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 29 1 
 
 marks left by the departed batteries were 
 imprinted in the gravel between the open 
 gates. " I shall not be a moment." Havill 
 stood still while his companion entered and 
 asked the commissary in charge, or some- 
 body representing him, when the new bat- 
 teries would arrive to take the place of those 
 which had gone away. He was informed 
 that it would be about noon. 
 
 '' Now I am at your service," said Dare, 
 "and will help you to rearrange your de- 
 sign by the new intellectual light we have 
 acquired." 
 
 They entered Havill's office and set to 
 work. When contrasted with the tracing 
 from Somerset's plan, Havill's design, which 
 was not far advanced, revealed all its weak- 
 nesses to him. After seeing Sorrlerset's 
 scheme the bands of Havill's imagination 
 were loosened : he laid his own previous 
 efforts aside, got fresh sheets of drawing- 
 paper and drew with vigour. 
 
 " I may as well stay and help you," said 
 Dare. " I have nothing to do till twelve 
 o'clock ; and not much then." 
 
292 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 So there he remained. At a quarter to 
 twelve children and idlers began to gather 
 against the railings of Havill's house. A 
 few minutes past twelve the noise of an 
 arriving host was heard at the entrance to 
 the town. Thereupon Dare and Havill went 
 to the window. 
 
 The X and Y Batteries of the Z Brigade, 
 Royal Horse Artillery, were entering Mark- 
 ton, each headed by the najor with his 
 bugler behind him. In a moment they came 
 abreast and passed, every man in his place : 
 
 Six shining horses, in pairs, harnessed by 
 rope-traces white as milk ; with a driver on 
 each near horse : 
 
 Two gunners on the lead-coloured stout- 
 wheeled limber, their carcases jolted to a 
 jelly for lack of springs : 
 
 Two gunners on the lead-coloured stout- 
 wheeled gun-carriage, in the same personal 
 condition : 
 
 The nine-pounder gun, dipping its heavy 
 head to earth, as If ashamed of its office in 
 these enlightened times : 
 
 The complement of jingling and prancing 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 293 
 
 troopers, riding at the wheels and else- 
 where : 
 
 Six shining horses with their drivers, and 
 traces white as milk, as before : 
 
 Two more gallant jolted men, on another 
 jolting limber, and more stout wheels and 
 lead-coloured paint : 
 
 Two more jolted men on another drooping 
 gun: 
 
 More jingling troopers on horseback : 
 
 Again six shining draught-horses, traces, 
 drivers, gun, gunners, lead paint, stout wheels 
 and troopers as before. 
 
 So each detachment lumbered slowly by, 
 all eyes martially forward, except when wan- 
 dering in quest of female beauty. 
 
 " He's a fine fellow, is he not ? " said Dare, 
 denoting by a nod a mounted officer, with a 
 sallow, yet handsome face, and black mous- 
 tache, who came up on a bay gelding with 
 the men of his battery. 
 
 " What is he ? " said Havill. 
 
 ** A captain who lacks advancement." 
 
 " Do you know him ? " 
 
 " I know him ? " 
 
294 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 '' Yes ; do you ? " 
 
 Dare made no reply ; and they watched 
 the captain as he rode past with his drawn 
 sword in his hand, the sun making Httle 
 suns upon its blade, and upon his brilliantly 
 polished long-boots and bright spurs ; also 
 warming his gold cross-belt and braidings, 
 white gloves, busby with its red bag, and tall 
 white plume. 
 
 Havill seemed too indifferent to press his 
 questioning ; and when all the soldiers had 
 passed by. Dare observed to his companion 
 that he should leave him for a short time ; but 
 would return in the afternoon or next day. 
 
 After this he walked up the street in the 
 rear of the artillery, following them to the 
 barracks. On reaching the gates he found 
 a crowd of people gathered outside, looking 
 with admiration at the guns and gunners 
 drawn up within the enclosure. When the 
 soldiers were dismissed to their quarters the 
 sightseers dispersed, and Dare went through 
 the gates to the barrack-yard. 
 
 The guns were standing on the green ; 
 the soldiers and horses were scattered about, 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 295 
 
 and the handsome captain whom Dare had 
 pointed out to Havlll was Inspecting the 
 buildings In the company of the quarter- 
 master. Dare made a mental note of these 
 things, and, apparently changing a previous 
 intention, went out from the barracks and 
 returned to the town. 
 
296 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 To return for a while to George Somerset. 
 The sun of his later existence having vanished 
 from that young man's horizon, he confined 
 himself closely to the studio, superintending 
 the exertions of his draughtsmen Bowles, 
 Knowles, and Cockton, who were now in 
 the full swing of working out Somersets 
 creations from the sketches he had previously 
 prepared. 
 
 He had so far got the start of Havill in 
 the competition that, by the help of these 
 three gentlemen, his design was soon finished. 
 But he gained no unfair advantage on this 
 account, an additional month being allowed 
 to Havill to compensate for his later infor- 
 mation. 
 
 Before sealing up his drawings Somerset 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 297 
 
 wished to spend a short time in London, and 
 dismissing his assistants till further notice, he 
 locked up the rooms which had been appro- 
 priated as office and studio, and prepared for 
 the journey. 
 
 It was afternoon. Somerset walked from 
 the castle in the direction of the wood to 
 reach Markton by a detour. He had not 
 proceeded far when there approached his 
 path a man riding a bay horse with a square- 
 cut tail. The equestrian wore a grizzled 
 beard, and looked at Somerset with a piercing 
 eye as he noiselessly ambled nearer over the 
 soft sod of the park. He proved to be 
 Mr. Cunningham Haze, chief constable of 
 the district, who had become slightly known 
 to Somerset during his sojourn here. 
 
 " One word, Mr. Somerset," said the 
 constable, after they had exchanged nods 
 of recognition, reining his horse as he spoke. 
 
 Somerset stopped. 
 
 " You have a studio at the castle in which 
 you are preparing drawings ? " 
 
 ** I have." 
 
 " Have you a clerk ? " 
 
298 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 " I had three till yesterday, when I paid 
 them off." 
 
 '' Would they have any right to enter the 
 studio late at night ? " 
 
 " There would have been nothing wrong 
 in their doing so. Either of them might 
 have gone back at any time for something 
 forgotten. They lived quite near the castle." 
 
 " Ah, then all is explained. I was riding 
 past over the grass on the night of last 
 Thursday, and I saw two persons in your 
 studio with a light. It must have been 
 about half-past nine o'clock. One of them 
 came forward and pulled down the blind, 
 so that the light fell upon his face. But I 
 only saw it for a short time." 
 
 *' If it were Knowles or Cockton he would 
 have had a beard." 
 
 "He had no beard." 
 
 " Then it must have been Bowles. A 
 young man ? " 
 
 ''Quite young. His companion in the 
 background seemed older.'* 
 
 '' They are all about the same age really. 
 By the way — it couldn't have been Dare — 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 299 
 
 and Havlll, surely ! Would you recognize 
 them again ? " 
 
 " The young one possibly. The other not 
 at all, for he remained in the shade." 
 
 Somerset endeavoured to discern in a de- 
 scription by the chief constable the features 
 of Mr. Bowles ; but it seemed to approximate 
 more closely to Dare in spite of himself 
 " ril make a sketch of the only one who 
 had no business there, and show it to you," 
 he presently said. '' I should like this cleared 
 
 Mr. Cunningham Haze said he was going 
 to Casterbridge that afternoon, but would 
 return in the evening before Somerset's de- 
 parture. With this they parted. A possible 
 motive for Dare's presence in the rooms had 
 instantly presented itself to Somerset's mind, 
 for he had seen Dare enter Havill's office 
 more than once, as if he were at work 
 there. 
 
 He accordingly sat on the next stile, and 
 taking out his pocket-book began a pencil 
 sketch of Dare's head, to show to Mr. Haze 
 in the evening ; for if Dare had indeed found 
 
300 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 admission with Havill, or as his agent, the 
 design was lost. 
 
 But he could not make a drawing that 
 was a satisfactory likeness. Then he luckily- 
 remembered that Dare, in the intense warmth 
 of admiration he had affected for Somerset 
 on the first day or two of their acquaintance, 
 had begged for his photograph, and in return 
 for it had left one of himself on the mantel- 
 piece, taken as he said by his own process. 
 Somerset resolved to show this production 
 to Mr. Haze, as being more to the purpose 
 than a sketch, and instead of finishing the 
 latter proceeded on his way. 
 
 He entered the old overgrown drive which 
 wound indirectly through the wood to Mark- 
 ton. The road, having been laid out for 
 idling rather than for progress, bent sharply 
 hither and thither among the fissured trunks 
 and layers of horny leaves which lay there 
 all the year round, interspersed with cushions 
 of vivid green moss that formed oases in the 
 rust-red expanse. 
 
 Reaching a point where the road made 
 one of its bends between two large beeches, 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 3OI 
 
 a man and woman revealed themselves at a 
 few yards' distance, walking slowly towards 
 him. In the short and quaint lady he re- 
 cognized Charlotte De Stancy, whom he 
 remembered not to have seen for several 
 days. 
 
 She slightly blushed and said, " Oh, this 
 is pleasant, Mr. Somerset! Let me present 
 my brother to you. Captain De Stancy, of 
 the Royal Horse Artillery." 
 
 Her brother came forward and shook 
 hands heartily with Somerset ; and they all 
 three rambled on together, talking of the 
 season, the place, the fishing, the shooting, 
 and whatever else came uppermost in their 
 minds. 
 
 Captain De Stancy was a personage who 
 would have been called interesting by women 
 well out of their teens. He was ripe, with- 
 out having declined a digit towards fogeyism. 
 He was sufficiently old and experienced to 
 suggest a goodly accumulation of touching 
 amourettes in the chambers of his memory, 
 and not too old for the possibility of in- 
 creasing the store. He was apparently 
 
302 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 about eight-and-thirty, less tall than his 
 father had been, but admirably made ; and 
 his every movement exhibited a fine com- 
 bination of strength and flexibility of limb. 
 His face was somewhat thin and thoughtful, 
 Its complexion being naturally pale, though 
 darkened by exposure to a warmer sun than 
 ours. His features were somewhat striking; 
 his moustache and hair raven black ; and his 
 eyes, denied the attributes of military keen- 
 ness by reason of the largeness and darkness 
 of their aspect, acquired thereby a softness 
 of expression that was in part womanly. 
 His mouth as far as it could be seen re- 
 produced this characteristic, which might 
 have been called weakness, or goodness, 
 according to the mental attitude of the 
 observer. It was large but well formed, 
 and showed an unimpaired line of teeth 
 within. His dress at present was a heather- 
 coloured rural suit, cut close to his figure. 
 
 " You knew my cousin, Jack Ravens- 
 bury ? " he said to Somerset, as they went 
 on. '' Poor Jack : he was a good fellow." 
 
 "He was a very good fellow." 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 303 
 
 " He would have been made a parson if 
 he had lived — it was his great wish. I, as 
 his senior, and a man of the world as I 
 thought myself, used to chaff him about it 
 when he was a boy, and tell him not to be 
 a milksop, but to enter the army. But I 
 think Jack was right — the parsons have the 
 best of it, I see now." 
 
 ''They would hardly admit that," said 
 Somerset, laughing. " Nor can I." 
 
 "Nor I," said the captain's sister. "See 
 how lovely you all looked with your big guns 
 and uniform when you entered Markton ; 
 and then see how stupid the parsons look 
 by comparison, when they flock into Markton 
 at a Visitation." 
 
 "Ah, yes," said De Stancy, a little pen- 
 sively : 
 
 Doubtless it is a brilliant masquerade ; 
 
 But when of the first sight you have had your fill, 
 
 It palls — at least it does so upon me, 
 
 This paradise of pleasure and ennui. 
 
 When one is getting on for forty ; 
 
 When we have made our love, and gamed our gaming, 
 Dressed, voted, shone, and maybe, something more ; 
 
304 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 With dandies dined, heard senators declaiming ; 
 Seen beauties brought to market by the score, 
 
 and so on, there arises a strong desire for 
 a quiet old-fashioned country life, in which 
 incessant movement is not a necessary part 
 of the programme." 
 
 " But you are not forty, Will ? " said 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " My dear, I was thirty-nine last January." 
 
 " Well, men about here are youths at that 
 age. It was India used you up so, when 
 you served in the line, w^as it not ? I wish 
 you had never gone there ! " 
 
 ''So do I," said De Stancy, drily. ''But 
 I ought to grow a youth again, like the rest, 
 now I am in my native air." 
 
 They came to a narrow brook, not wider 
 than a man's stride, and Miss De Stancy 
 halted on the edge. 
 
 "Why, Lottie, you used to jump it easily 
 enough," said her brother. " But we won't 
 make her do it now." He took her in his 
 arms, and lifted her over, giving her a 
 gratuitous ride for some additional yards, 
 and saying, " You are not a pound heavier, 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 305 
 
 Lott, than you were at ten years old. . . . 
 What do you think of the country here, 
 Mr. Somerset? Are you going to stay 
 long?" 
 
 *' I think very well of it," said Somerset. 
 " But I leave to-morrow morning, which 
 makes it necessary that I turn back in a 
 minute or two from walking with you." 
 
 " That's a disappointment. I had hoped 
 you were going to finish out the autumn 
 with shooting. There's some, very fair, to 
 be got here on reasonable terms, I've just 
 heard." 
 
 " But you need not hire any ! " spoke up 
 Charlotte. '' Paula would let you shoot 
 anything, I am sure. She has not been 
 here long enough to preserve much game, 
 and the poachers had it all in Mr. Wilkins' 
 time. But what there is you might kill with 
 pleasure to her." 
 
 '' No, thank you," said De Stancy, grimly, 
 " I prefer to remain a stranger to Miss 
 Power — Miss Steam- Power, she ought to be 
 called — and to all her possessions." 
 
 Charlotte was subdued, and did not insist 
 
 VOL, I. X 
 
306 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 further ; while Somerset, before he could 
 feel himself able to decide on the mood in 
 which the gallant captain's joke at Paula s 
 expense should be taken, wondered whether 
 it were a married man or a bachelor who 
 uttered It. 
 
 He had not been able to keep the question 
 of De Stancy's domestic state out of his 
 head from the first moment of seeing him. 
 Assuming De Stancy to be a husband, he 
 felt there might be some excuse for his 
 remark ; if unmarried, Somerset liked the 
 satire still better ; in such circumstances 
 there was a relief In the thought that Captain 
 De Stancy's prejudices might be infinitely 
 stronger than those of his sister or father. 
 
 " Going to-morrow, did you say, Mr. 
 Somerset ? " asked Miss De Stancy. '' Then 
 will you dine with us to-day ? My father 
 is anxious that you should do so before you 
 go. I am sorry there will be only our own 
 family present to meet you ; but you can 
 leave as early as you wish." 
 
 Her brother seconded the invitation, and 
 Somerset promised, though his leisure for 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 307 
 
 that evening was short. He was in truth 
 somewhat Indlned to Hke De Stancy ; for 
 though the captain had said nothing of any 
 value either on war, commerce, science, or 
 art, he had seemed attractive to the younger 
 man. Beyond the natural interest a soldier 
 has for imaginative minds in the civil walks 
 of life, De Stancy's occasional manifestations 
 of tcBdium-vitcE were too poetically shaped to 
 be repellent. Gallantry combined in him with 
 a sort of ascetic self-repression. In a way that 
 was curious. He was a dozen years older 
 than Somerset : his life had been passed in 
 grooves remote from those of Somerset's 
 own life ; and the latter decided that he 
 would like to meet the artillery officer again. 
 
 Bidding them a temporary farewell, he 
 went away to Markton by a shorter path 
 than that pursued by the De Stancys, and 
 after spending the remainder of the after- 
 noon preparing for departure, he sallied forth 
 just before the dinner-hour towards the sub- 
 urban villa. 
 
 He had become yet more curious whether 
 a Mrs. De Stancy existed ; if there were one 
 
308 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 he would probably see her to-night. He 
 had an irrepressible hope that there might 
 be such a lady. On entering the drawing- 
 room only the father, son, and daughter 
 were assembled. Somerset fell into talk 
 with Charlotte during the few minutes before 
 dinner, and his thought found its way out. 
 
 "There is no Mrs. De Stancy?" he said 
 in an undertone. 
 
 '' None," she said ; '* my brother is a 
 bachelor." 
 
 The dinner having been fixed at an early 
 hour to suit Somerset, they had returned to 
 the drawing-room at eight o'clock. About 
 nine he was aiming to get away. 
 
 " You are not off yet ? " said the captain. 
 
 *' There would have been no hurry," said 
 Somerset, *' had I not just remembered that 
 I have left one thing undone which I want 
 to attend to before my departure. I want to 
 see the chief constable to-night." 
 
 *' Cunningham Haze ? — he is the very man 
 I too want to see. But he went out of town 
 this afternoon, and I hardly think you will 
 see him to-night. His return has been de- 
 layed." 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 3O9 
 
 *' Then the matter must wait." 
 
 '* I have left word at his house asking him 
 to call here if he gets home before half-past 
 ten ; but at any rate I shall see him to- 
 morrow morning. Can I do anything for 
 you, since you are leaving early ? " 
 
 Somerset replied that the business was of 
 no great importance, and briefly explained 
 the suspected intrusion into his studio ; that 
 he had with him a photograph of the sus- 
 pected young man. " If it is a mistake," 
 added Somerset, '' I should regret putting 
 my draughtsman's portrait into the hands of 
 the police, since it might injure his character ; 
 indeed, it would be unfair to him. So I 
 wish to keep the likeness in my own hands, 
 and merely to show it to Mr. Haze : that's 
 why I prefer not to send it." 
 
 " My matter with Haze is that the barrack 
 furniture does not correspond with the in- 
 ventories. If you like. 111 ask your question 
 at the same time with pleasure." 
 
 Thereupon Somerset gave Captain De 
 Stancy an unfastened envelope containing 
 the portrait, asking him to destroy it if the 
 
2,10 .A LAODICEAN. 
 
 constable should declare it not to correspond 
 with the face that met his eye at the window. 
 Soon after, Somerset took his leave of the 
 household. 
 
 He had not been absent ten minutes when 
 other wheels were heard on the gravel with- 
 out, and the servant announced Mr. Cunning- 
 ham Haze, who had returned earlier than he 
 had expected and had called as requested. 
 
 They went into the dining-room to discuss 
 their business. When the barrack matter 
 had been arranged De Stancy said, " I have 
 a little commission to execute for my friend 
 Mr. Somerset. I am to ask you if this 
 portrait of the person he suspects of unlaw- 
 fully entering his room is like the man you 
 saw there ? " 
 
 The speaker was seated on one side of 
 the dinino^-table and Mr. Haze on the other. 
 As he spoke De Stancy pulled the envelope 
 from his pocket, and half drew out the photo- 
 graph, which he had not as yet looked at, to 
 hand it over to the constable. In the act 
 his eye fell upon the portrait, with its un- 
 certain expression of age, assured look, and 
 hair worn in a fringe like a girl's. 
 
DARE AND HAVILL. 3II 
 
 Captain De Stancy grew sickly pale, 
 and fell back gasping in his chair, having 
 previously had sufficient power over himself 
 to close the envelope and return it to his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Good heavens, you are ill, Captain De 
 Stancy ? " said the chief constable. 
 
 '' It was only momentary," said De Stancy 
 faintly ; " better in a minute — a glass of water 
 will put me right." 
 
 Mr. Haze got him a glass of water from 
 the sideboard. 
 
 " These spasms occasionally overtake me," 
 said De Stancy when he had drunk. " I am 
 already better. What were we saying ? Oh, 
 this affair of Mr. Somerset's. I find that 
 this envelope is not the right one." He 
 ostensibly searched his pocket again. " I 
 must have mislaid it," he continued, rising. 
 " I'll be with you again in a moment." 
 
 De Stancy went into the room adjoining, 
 opened an album of portraits that lay on the 
 table, and selected one of a young man quite 
 unknown to him, whose age was somewhat 
 akin to Dare's, but who in no other attribute 
 resembled him. 
 
312 A LAODICEAN. 
 
 De Stancy placed this picture in the 
 original envelope, and returned with it to 
 the chief constable, saying he had found It 
 at last. 
 
 '' Thank you, thank you," said Cunningham 
 Haze, looking it over. " Ah — I perceive it 
 is not what I expected to see. Mr. Somerset 
 was mistaken." 
 
 When the chief constable had left the 
 house, Captain De Stancy shut the door 
 and drew out the original photograph. As 
 he looked at the transcript of Dare's features 
 he was moved by a painful agitation till, 
 recalling himself to the present, he carefully 
 put the portrait into the fire. 
 
 During the following days Captain De 
 Stancy 's manner on the roads, in the streets, 
 and at barracks, was that of Crusoe after 
 seeing the print of a man's foot on the sand. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. 
 
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