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 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS ALFRED HUNT 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' THORNICROFT'S MODEL ' ' THE LEADEN CASKET ' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 1886 
 
 \The right of trajtslation is reserved] 
 
PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 LONDON 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAPl-EK PAGE 
 I. WHOM ARE TOU EXPECTING? 1 
 
 II. A YELLOW FOG 32 
 
 III. THE DUTY OP A SCHOOLBOY 49 
 
 IV. THE SECOND MASTEE's WIPES PEW . . . . 75 
 
 V. A BIT OP WHITE PAPER 101 
 
 YI. THE LITTLE BROWN MAN . . . . . . 127 
 
 Til. PHiLLis Arnold's dress 159 
 
 Vin. OLD SCATCH U5 
 
 IX. WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT .^ . . . .211 
 
 X. WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 236 
 
 XI. I WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 262 
 
 XII. ON THE BLACK BOX 290 
 
THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 
 
 Was man in der Jugend wiinscht hat man im Alter der 
 Fiille. — Goethe. 
 
 It is barely a mile from a well-kaown centre 
 of fashion, and yet it is one of the most un- 
 fashionable parts of London. Step by step as 
 you approach it, you become aware that you 
 are drawing nearer to a quarter inhabited by 
 those to whom fortune rarely comes with both 
 hands full. The trees by the road-side disap- 
 pear ; the pavement shrinks to half its former 
 dimensions ; the road itself does the same ; the 
 sumptuous soup-tureens which have iiitherto 
 imparted such grace and dignity to the summits 
 of the houses of the upper classes cease to 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 delight the eyes ; balconies and stone facings 
 are the next things to be cut off; and at last, 
 when you reach Lome Gardens you find dwell- 
 ing-places occupying the very smallest plot of 
 ground on which it is possible for a ' genteel 
 residence ' to stand. There are five-and-thirty 
 houses in Lome Gardens, and they are tall, 
 grey, and dismal-looking, xill are exactly alike. 
 You see that they are ugly, and you feel that 
 they are uncomfortable. And yet they have 
 such a pretty, tantalising name ! What would 
 one not expect from Lome Gardens ? Scotland, 
 and Scott, and pleasant wanderings far away 
 from brick and mortar come into our minds at 
 once. It is riot an absolute fiction to call them 
 gardens, for behmd each house is a strip of 
 ground some thirty feet by fifteen, enclosed by 
 rather high brick walls, and for the most part 
 occupied by wooden posts intended to support 
 lines of cord to dry the family linen. Few wash 
 at home in Lorne Gardens, and yet there are 
 always two or three houses where dingy inflated 
 garments flutter about hour after hour, and blight 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 3 
 
 the happiness of all living near who have any 
 aspirations towards gentility. For the residents 
 in Lome Gardens, though they have no carved 
 stone soup-tiu'eens on the tops of their houses, no 
 balconies, no lieavy stucco facings, no gently 
 graduated flight of steps leading up to their front 
 doors, no power of saying that they live in a 
 highly select neighbourhood — seeing that only a 
 few doors off they can find their butcher, baker, 
 greengrocer, and even a pawnbroker — cling 
 fondly to gentility, and look with no favour on 
 people with large famihes of children who do 
 their own washing, and otherwise ' let down ' 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 On a certain afternoon in the beginning of 
 February a girl was sitting in the drawing-room 
 of Number Five. That is to say, it was the 
 drawing-room if you liked to call it so ; for if 
 you preferred to say dining-room, there was no 
 reason to suppose you were doing wrong, since 
 it was one of two rooms each furnished pretty 
 much alike, and only divided by folding-doors. 
 She was sitting in an easy chair near the 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THAT OTHER PERSON \ 
 
 window, not looking out, not employed in any- 
 way, but sitting there with eyes fixed vacantly 
 on the street. An open book lay on her lap, 
 but certainly not because she had any desire to 
 read. Two of her sisters were in the room 
 with her. They were doing their utmost to 
 cut out some articles of apparel by the help of 
 paper patterns from a second-rate ladies' news- 
 paper. Their hearts were in their w^ork, but 
 their hearts were not happy, for there was not 
 quite enough material to make the garments 
 required, and no changing about or turning up 
 or down of the various parts of the pattern 
 
 would ensure success. 
 « 
 
 ' It does seem such an awful pity ! ' said one. 
 
 ' It's the most vexatious nuisance I ever 
 knew ! ' said the other ; • and then they glanced 
 at their sister, who was still sitting by the 
 window, neither seeing nor caring for any of 
 their troubles. 
 
 'I say, Polly, some people take things 
 mighty easy ! ' exclaimed one of them, with a 
 smile. 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 5 
 
 ' Yes, indeed they do, Aggy,' replied the 
 other, with a toss of the head. 
 
 Josephine did not hear one word that they 
 said. The two girls who were so busy with 
 the patterns were of a much coarser mould 
 than their sister Josephine. Their faces were 
 broad and round, and though not handsome, 
 comely — very comely some people thought 
 them, for they had large clear blue eyes, and 
 firm-looking and tolerably well-shaped mouths 
 which disclosed two regular rows of fine white 
 teeth ; but their crowning glory was that they 
 both had such masses of beautiful light brown 
 hair that they might have been taken for 
 Germans. Josephine's face was delicate in its 
 lines, and pale in colour. Her eyes were large 
 and grave-looking when she was at rest as 
 now, but they seemed to burn when she raised 
 them to any one's face. Her own face was 
 rather a sad one, but very beautiful. It was 
 wonderful to see her sitting there so long in 
 such perfect stillness. Her sisters were all 
 activity. They fixed their obstinate bits of 
 
6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 tissue-paper, they unfixed them and altered 
 their arrangement, knocked over a large box of 
 pins, giggled, jested, lamented, and went through 
 the most intricate calculations. Josephine may 
 have heard something of this, for she frowned 
 slightly once or twice, but that was aP. Polly 
 and Agnes wore highly coloured, broadly 
 marked, large-checked dresses ; hideously ugly 
 things they were, and the dressmaker had so 
 contrived them that the checks should form 
 brilliantly outlined squares round each of their 
 shoulder-bones. 
 
 Josephine's dress was a pretty blue one 
 wnth silver buttons, and her closely curling 
 black hair, though it seemed so carelessly 
 arranged, was a work of art which was not 
 produced without time and thought, and in 
 spite of her absent-mindedness she had not 
 once injured its appearance by putting up her 
 hand to thrust it back, as Polly and Agnes 
 were constantly doing to theirs, until at last 
 every inch of their foreheads was laid bare. 
 
 Do what they might, it was all in vain 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? y 
 
 The mantles would not let themselves be cut 
 out without another yard of stuff, and that yard 
 they did not know how to obtain. At length, 
 in great vexation, they flung the patterns on 
 the floor, and then sat down, feeling completely 
 worsted. Polly, in her despair, began to fan 
 herself with a fashion-book ; but Agnes, whose 
 temper was thoroughly ruffled, threw herself 
 into the same attitude as that in which her idle 
 sister Josephine was sitting, on which Polly 
 could not help laughing. On this Josephine 
 slowly raised her eyes from the ground, and 
 turned them on her sisters in wonder. 
 
 Aggy at once exclaimed, 'Well, what do 
 you want ? ' 
 
 ' I want nothing.' 
 
 ' I suppose you mean that you want no- 
 thing if you are to take the trouble to get it 
 for yourself ! You are always complaining of 
 this house, and saying that everything is shabby, 
 or untidy, or something ; but I never see you 
 try to make anything better except in your 
 own bedroom. You have no regulation in 
 
8 THAI OTHER PERSON 
 
 your mind, Zeph. Why don't you either give 
 up that awful habit of grumbhng, or try to do 
 something ? ' 
 
 ' I am neither grumbling nor complaining 
 now,' replied Zeph rather scornfully. 
 
 ' Not in words, but you are in looks. Do 
 something, I say. I wonder what you would 
 think of me and Polly if we were to put on the 
 best dresses we have and. sit without speaking 
 a word, as you have done for the last hour or 
 more ! Do you think that would make things 
 more comfortable ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I am sure it would. It would be 
 much more comfortable if you would be silent ; 
 I do not see why you should speak to me — I 
 am not interfering with you.' 
 
 ' But why don't you get something to do ? ' 
 reiterated Aggy. 
 
 ' How do you know that I am not doing 
 something ? ' 
 
 ' Zeph, how foolish you are ! ' said Polly. 
 ' Come, Aggy, you and I cannot afford to work 
 hard at sitting still like our eldest sister. Let 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 9 
 
 US try again. Be quick ; it will soon be 
 dark.' 
 
 ' I don't see why you need make the room 
 so untidy when you are working,' said Zeph, 
 who had suddenly become aware of the state 
 of things around her. ' Every chair is covered 
 with your patterns and bits of stuff, and you 
 seem to have emptied your workboxes on the 
 floor.' 
 
 ' What matter ? I^o one is coming,' said 
 Polly. 
 
 ' There is no one to see it,' said Aggy. 
 
 * We see it. Why cannot we have the 
 pleasure of seeing things in their places ? I 
 hate disorder. You all seem to think that we 
 need not care how much confusion there is 
 unless some one is coming ! ' 
 
 Oddly enough, as if in prompt confirmation 
 of this, the door opened, and a middle-aged 
 lady came in. She was short, slight in figure, 
 and upright, and had a good-looking face for 
 her years, but it was rather pale, and its pre- 
 vailing expression seemed to be one of gentle 
 
lo THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 resignation. She was dressed in a very plain 
 black serge — it was old, too, for there was 
 many a shining tract on the most exposed sur- 
 faces. Her hair was almost white, and was 
 smoothly braided and hidden away beneath a 
 plain cap. She fixed her languid blue-grey 
 eyes, out of which all radiance had long died 
 away, on Zeph, and apparently it was the pretty 
 blue dress which struck her, for she exclaimed, 
 ' Whom are you expecting, Zeph ? I didn't 
 know that any one was coming.' 
 
 ' I am expecting no one,' replied Zeph, with 
 tears in her eyes. ' Why should you suppose 
 that I am ? Can't I put on a tidy dress with- 
 out being asked if I am expecting some one ? 
 I like to keep up some kind of decency of 
 appearance. You need not remind me of our 
 poverty,' she added vehemently, for she saw 
 that her mother was about to speak. * I know 
 we are poor ; how can I possibly forget it ? 
 But my dress does not cost a bit more than 
 those hideous checked things Mary and Agnes 
 are wearing — not one halfpenny more ; only I 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? ii 
 
 hate being a friglit when there is no need for it. 
 I hate untidiness, too, and I don't see why you 
 let them make everything so uncomfortable 
 here. Can't they do their cutting-out some- 
 where else .^ It is a very hard thing not to 
 have one room in the house left in such a state 
 that we can sit in it without feeling degraded ! ' 
 Polly and Aggy, who were good girls in the 
 main, and very fond of Zeph when they were 
 not in a bad temper, thought this so absurd 
 that they could not restrain their laughter. 
 Mrs. Treherne said, ' Don't talk that way, my 
 dear Zeph. I like tidiness as much as any one, 
 but when people are working very hard they 
 cannot always help showing that they are. 
 The girls might try to keep things in order, of 
 course, and I wish they would ; but I am still 
 more anxious that they should make less noise. 
 They are moving about and pushing chairs 
 about, and they are disturbing their poor dear 
 father frightfully. There must be no more 
 noise — none whatsoever. That is what I came 
 upstairs to say ; but, Zeph, if you really are not 
 
12 THAT OTHER PERSOA 
 
 expecting any friends to call, I must say that 
 I think you had better go upstairs and put on 
 an older dress. That merino will be a hand- 
 some dress all next year if you will but consent 
 to take care of it, and only put it on when it is 
 likely to be wanted.' 
 
 Zeph rose from her lowly seat, kissed her 
 mother, whose only fault was that she had 
 yielded to her surroundings without a struggle, 
 and silently left the room. She went to her 
 own little bedroom — an attic with a sloping 
 roof and one large square skylight — and there 
 she took off her pretty dress, put on an old 
 black one, and then sat down on a large box 
 which was the mainstay of the Treherne family 
 whenever it went from home. It happened to 
 be the only seat in the room that was available 
 — there were two chairs, but each was slightly 
 broken. She hated contention, she hated 
 poverty ; she liked elegance, grace, and luxury, 
 and would have liked to lead a happy life, 
 wearing dainty dresses, reading delightful books, 
 and never seeing a distasteful sight or hearing 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 13 
 
 an unsympathetic word. For the last hour or 
 two she had been wondering how she could 
 best fit her thoughts and wishes to her circum- 
 stances, or whether it might not be possible 
 to raise her circumstances to the level of her 
 thoughts and wishes. Hers were such poor — 
 such miserably poor circumstances ! Life at 
 5 Lome Gardens was uncomfortable even for 
 those who had no desire for elegance or luxury. 
 Edward Treherne, father of the three girls 
 whose acquaintance the reader has just made, 
 was a man of good birth, and a barrister by 
 education and profession ; but, alas ! the law 
 had never been more than a profession with 
 him — he had never earned a penny by the 
 practice of it. He had married when he was 
 very young. A small competence had at first 
 secured him against want, but as time wore 
 on, and expenses increased, there w^ere dark 
 moments for the imprudent young man, who, 
 with three hundred a year for all his wealth, 
 had taken on himself the task of maintaining a 
 wife and family. Josephine, Mary, and Agnes 
 
14 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 came in quick succession, and finally a son ; 
 but long before the birth of the latter Mr. 
 Treherne had learnt to eke out his income 
 with his pen. Given an adequate amount of 
 intellect, what more dehghtful mode of eking 
 out an income can be imagined? This is 
 the first thought of most people when they 
 hear of a man adding to his means by writing ; 
 but none but those who do write can know 
 how hardly the bread must be gained which is 
 earned by struggling to keep the head clear, 
 judgment calm, and mind open to impressions 
 in a small, ill-built London house, with noisy, 
 incompetent servants, squalling young children, 
 barrel organs, street cries, and all the many 
 miseries which fall to the lot of a brain- worker 
 under the conditions which fettered Edward 
 Treherne. He was a very clever man, and 
 wrote well, but slowly. By some mischance 
 he had not at first turned his attention to the 
 kind of literary work which pays, but had 
 undertaken the task of editing books for a 
 well-known antiquarian society with barely 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 15 
 
 money enough at its disposal even to reward 
 its editors for the labour of transcription. He 
 had fallen in love with work of this kind, and 
 succeeded in throwing so much light on every- 
 thing he touched that he made himself a name. 
 He made some money, too, but every hundred 
 pounds he earned was worked for as if it had 
 been three or four hundred, and his hard labour 
 and the urgent need for it had all but com- 
 pletely isolated him from his own children. 
 He occupied a room on the ground-floor which 
 had been intended for the dining-room of the 
 house. Here he had lived for the last twenty 
 years, gradually adding new shelves to those 
 already existing on the walls as his stock of 
 untidy second-hand books of reference became 
 larger, and himself growing year by year more 
 shaggy, unkempt, and limp-looking as year by 
 year he abandoned himself more entirely to 
 his work. Sometimes, it is true, this work 
 obliged him to go from home, to this or that 
 public record oflice, or to some old country 
 house or castle whose owner had at last been 
 
i6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 persuaded to yield up to competent inspection 
 stores of deeds and cliarters which had hitherto 
 been zealously sequestrated from all exami- 
 nation. These are the great occasions of an 
 antiquary's life, when papers full of historic 
 interest, as yet unseen by any eye possessed of 
 insight, are entrusted to his hands, and he 
 suddenly finds himself reading a letter which 
 draws a track of light over some obscure 
 passage in history, and can scarcely believe in 
 the good fortune which has reserved the dis- 
 covery for him. But such opportunities are 
 rare, and most rare with Edward Treherne, who 
 spent week after week within the four walls of 
 his study, with no other exercise than an occa- 
 sional stroll up and down his room, shuffling 
 about in a pair of loose carpet slippers. Could 
 any one who had seen him when he was the 
 pride of Magdalen have believed that he would 
 have degenerated into something so hke the 
 typical fellow of a college of a hundred and 
 fifty years ago ? 
 
 His appropriation of the dining-room had 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 17 
 
 obliged his family to take their meals in a 
 small square room at the back of the house, 
 which, as Mr. Euskin observes of another room 
 of the same description, ' commanded a partial 
 view of the Avater-butt,' and was otherwise well 
 within range of all the household industries. 
 It was not an exhilarating dininor-room. Mr. 
 Treherne rarely joined the family circle either 
 in this room or in any other. His dinner was 
 carried into the study to him on a plate, and 
 sometimes he ate his food while it was hot, but 
 more frequently he forgot that it was there, 
 and only remembered it when tormented by 
 the pangs of hunger, or when his wife ventured 
 to remind him. The consequence of this 
 seclusion was that he scarcely knew anything 
 of his own children, and that they were left to 
 the management of the woman for whose sake 
 he had reduced himself to this phght. A good, 
 kind woman she had always been to him, 
 serving and loving him with more than the 
 devotion of a dog to its master. She would 
 gladly have walked ten miles every day of her 
 VOL. I. c 
 
1 8 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 life, if by so doing she could have procured 
 any delicacy to tempt him to show enjoyment 
 in what he ate. That he never did, and it was 
 a great grief to her. There was nothing that 
 she would not have done for him, but there 
 her self-devotion stopped. She had no idea of 
 ' humouring the nonsensical fancies ' of any of 
 her daughters. According to her theory, they 
 were nothing more than three able-bodied 
 young women, to fall back on if she herself 
 should be ill or prove insufficient to make her 
 husband's existence comfortable. She did not 
 see that they had any reason to be discontented. 
 They had everything girls ought to want while 
 they were at home. Her own joys were 
 simple, but none the less real for that. First 
 there was the consciousness that her husband 
 could not have endured to live without her. 
 She rose early every morning of her hfe, 
 and herself dusted his room and arranged the 
 papers, which no one else was allowed to 
 touch : proudly she fingered them, and liberally 
 she furnished him with pens and ink and 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 19 
 
 paper. After breakfast she herself dusted the 
 sitting-rooms above, lest a heavy-footed servant 
 should disturb him. Then she went out and 
 did the shopping, and, not content with that, 
 herself brought home most of her purchases, 
 because the house- bell disturbed him. That 
 by no means completed the sum of her services : 
 all day long she sat with him doing anything 
 in her power. She copied documents when he 
 would trust her with the task, looked out 
 words in the dictionaries for him, or sat for 
 hours, pen in hand, ready to make any note or 
 memorandum that might occur to him. 
 
 All this time poor Zeph has been left sitting 
 on her black box in her bedroom, crying till 
 she made her head ache, because the life that 
 seemed to be assigned to her was so little to her 
 taste. 'It is a poor hfe,' she thought, as she 
 sat bewailing her lot. ' I can understand the 
 pleasure of living in a cottage, and having 
 to keep it clean and work for my dailv 
 bread ; but I hate to live here and get up 
 morning after morning, knowing that the 
 
 c2 
 
20 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 largest aim of my existence during each day 
 will be either to make sixpence do the work of 
 a shilling when I am buying some small article 
 of dress, or to save my sixpence altogether ! I 
 have no duties, for my mother does them all ; 
 no pleasures — pleasures cost money ; I never 
 see my father for more than an hour or so. I 
 never see mother, either, for she is always 
 running about after him. I never want to see 
 my sisters, for they are great rough, odious 
 things ; ' and then poor misguided Zeph once 
 more dissolved in tears. It was quite dark : 
 she did not care. It was very cold : she 
 scarcely knew it. She could not bring herself 
 to go downstairs. Suddenly she heard a knock 
 at her door, and Jack, her ten-year-old brother, 
 came in. 
 
 ' I say, Zeph,' said he cheerily, ' do come 
 down : I want you. I have been wanting you 
 ever so long ! ' 
 
 ' It's nice to hear of any one wanting me,' 
 thought Zeph. ' What did you want me 
 for?' 
 
WHOM ARE YOU EXPECTING? 21 
 
 ' Why, to see you, of course ! ' said he ; 
 ' why shouldn't I ? ' 
 
 She made him sit down by her and kissed 
 him. 'You had Polly and Aggy,' said she 
 rather jealously ; * why should you want 
 me?' 
 
 ' Because I do. What's the use of Polly 
 and Aggy, when their heads are filled with 
 nothing but clothes ? Tea is ready, Zeph ; 
 come down.' 
 
 'I don't want any tea,' she answered, re- 
 membering all her sorrows. 
 
 'Well, but Mrs. Simonds, Frank Sim- 
 onds' mother, you know, has got four spare 
 tickets for a concert, and she wants us to go 
 with her — we are to go, she says. It begins at 
 half-past seven, and it will take us more than 
 twenty minutes to walk. It's in Kensington 
 Town HalL' 
 
 Up jumped Zeph. In a moment she had 
 forgotten all the miseries of the last hour or 
 two, and the only regret she felt was that she 
 had had the trouble of taking off her pretty 
 
22 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 blue frock. She ran briskly downstairs with 
 Jack. The usually dull room in which her 
 family were assembled seemed bright and warm 
 and cheerful. Such magic had been wrought 
 by a present of four sixpenny tickets for a 
 concert benevolently intended to bring good 
 music within range of the poor ! 
 
23 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 A YELLOW FOG. 
 
 A yellow fog, wliicli is the curse of London. I would 
 hardiv take my share of it for a share of its wealth and its 
 curiosity — a vile double-distilled fog, of the most intolerable 
 kind. — Sm W. Scott's Diaet. 
 
 It was excellent music, and they all enjoyed it. 
 Polly and Aggy forgot their late discomfiture, 
 and beamed with good temper and apprecia- 
 tion. Mrs. Simonds and Zeph were equally 
 happy. Once or twice Zeph could not help 
 wishing that her sisters would not show their 
 satisfaction by sitting with a constant smile on 
 their lips, and she would have been happier if 
 Mrs. Simonds had not worn a bonnet with 
 quite such a mass of tropical vegetation on it ; 
 but she whispered to Jack, who was a very 
 handsome little boy, ' Keep with me when the 
 concert is over ; let us walk out of the room 
 
24 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 together ; ' and, having done that, did not care 
 about the bonnet, for she was not seated by 
 the good lady's side, and no one need know 
 that they all belonged to the same party. 
 
 Towards the end of the evening little wisps 
 of white film seemed to be floating about the 
 hall, and soon the air was filled with that in- 
 definable something — indefinable, but palpable 
 to almost every sense — which betrayed the 
 existence of a fog. February had already 
 come, and it had not been a foggy winter as 
 yet, so no one felt particularly alarmed ; but 
 when the music was over, and people began to 
 think of home, it was wonderful how quickly 
 the news flew through the hall that there was 
 the worst fog which had been known for years. 
 Every one struggled towards the door of the 
 hall. That could be found easily enough, but 
 where was the door into the street? There 
 was no need for Zeph to be ashamed of being 
 with Mrs. Simonds ; no one had time now to 
 despise his neighbour for wearing a bonnet 
 crushed down by a weight of tropical vegeta- 
 
A YELLOW FOG 25 
 
 tion — every one was in sore distress to know 
 how to get home. 
 
 ' Oh, my dear Jack ! ' gasped Zeph, 
 ' promise me faithfully to keep quite close 
 by my side. Let me take hold of your 
 hand.' 
 
 ' It is most dangerous ! ' said Mrs. Simonds, 
 pale with anxiety ; ' but we must not lose our 
 courage, and we must keep together. At least, 
 that's what we ought to do, but I am sure I 
 don't know how it's to be managed.' 
 
 HoAV indeed ! They had not gone half a 
 dozen yards before Mrs. Simonds was walking 
 off to Knightsbridge, holding Aggy by one 
 hand, while with the other she grasped the 
 arm of an honest tradesman from the Earl's 
 Court Eoad, who firmly believed that he was 
 convoying his own wife safely to the home he 
 fervently wished he had never left. It was a 
 thoroughly bad fog — pungent of taste and 
 strong of smell, — and it rolled against their 
 faces in damp waves, half choking them as 
 they tried to breast it. 
 
26 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Come on, girls,' said Jack encouragingly ; 
 ' I know my way quite well. We have to 
 walk straight on for about five minutes more, 
 and then we must turn to the right, and the 
 others are close behind us ; ' for as yet he was 
 unaware that Mrs. Simonds and party were 
 now making the best of their way in an opposite 
 direction. 
 
 'It's not such easy work as you want to 
 make out,' said Polly. ' I have always heard 
 that all the carriages and horses come on the 
 pavement when there's a fog hke this, and you 
 may be quite sure that those great awkward- 
 looking omnibuses will think nothing of crush- 
 ing us to death.' 
 
 ' The people are far worse than the omni- 
 buses,' said Zeph. ' How they do push against 
 us ! ' 
 
 Just then a party of boys who were roam- 
 ing about under cover of darkness, yelling, 
 hooting, and thrusting lanterns into the faces 
 of startled foot-passengers, came by, and one of 
 them thrust his lantern in Polly's eyes, making 
 
A YELLOW FOG 27 
 
 the most hideous contortions of his own face 
 and uttering the most appalhng cry as he 
 did so. Polly started back screaming in an 
 agony of terror. 
 
 ' Come on,' again said Jack ; ' never mind 
 him. Here's the turning, I am sure ; I have 
 kept my hand on the railings all the way. We 
 can't have come wrong.' 
 
 ' But we seem to be going round and round,' 
 said Zeph. So they were, for they were walk- 
 ing round and round Kensington Square. 
 
 ' Suppose we have lost our way ! ' she con- 
 tinued, her teeth chattering with cold and 
 terror. Each moment she expected some one 
 of the terrible-looking men of whose existence 
 she from time to time became indistinctly 
 aware, to fling strong arms round her, and 
 drag her away into the darkness and murder 
 her. Jack was her only protector, and he was 
 a boy of ten ! 
 
 ' I don't beUeve the others are behind us,' 
 said Polly ; and to satisfy herself, she called, 
 'Aggy! Aggy!' 
 
28 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 * She's there,' said Jack ; ' I'll swear I heard 
 her voice a minute since/ 
 
 ^ Call her, then,' said Polly. 
 
 Jack called, they all called ; but their cry 
 was only taken up and mocked by a group of 
 demoniac link-boys. They waited and called, 
 and waited and called again. No Agnes was 
 there to answer, but somewhere very near 
 them there were two carriages in unfortunate 
 proximity to each other. This they gathered 
 from the cries and bad language of the coach- 
 men, but immediately afterwards the lost chil- 
 dren heard a crash, and felt sure that one of 
 the horses had become entirely unmanageable. 
 It was phmging wildly about, and so near to 
 them as to be extremely dangerous. 
 
 ' We shall be killed ! ' exclaimed Zeph. 
 
 ' It's going the other way,' said Jack. 
 ' Stand still.' 
 
 ' Oh no, it is not ! ' said Polly. ' Zeph is 
 right, we shall be killed ! — that's just one of 
 the ills one does go and get heir to directly, on 
 a night like this ! ' 
 
A YELLOW FOG 29 
 
 Jack, who, after all, was the calmest of the 
 party, had dragged them close to the railings 
 aod made them stand still. ' Polly is quoting 
 a bit of one of my lessons, and quoting it 
 wrong,' said he, ' but still it is Shakespeare.' 
 
 ' Jack dear, do hold your tongue,' said 
 Zeph, in great distress and fear. ' How can 
 you talk of such things as that, when we may 
 all be dead next minute ! ' 
 
 'Now it's safe to move,' said Jack. So 
 they grasped each other's hands tighter than 
 ever, and hurried from the neighbourhood of 
 such danger as quickly as they could. This 
 fright completely drove away any ideas they 
 might have had on the subject of their route, 
 but that was of no real consequence, for they 
 were already completely lost. 
 
 ' And all this for a common sixpenny 
 concert, where they did not even number 
 the seats ! ' moaned Polly. ' I do believe we 
 shall lose our lives for nothing better than 
 that ! ' 
 
 ' As if it would be pleasanter to die after 
 
30 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 being at one which had cost a guinea I ' ex- 
 claimed Zeph. 
 
 ' Well, I don't know.' continued Polly ; ' I 
 
 think ' but what she thought they never 
 
 knew, for just at that moment she stepped over 
 the edge of the pavement, which was rather 
 high there, and fell into the road, uttering a 
 loud cry for help. Jack at once went to give 
 what help he could ; Zeph stood waiting where 
 she was, consoled by hearing Polly say that she 
 was not much hurt. He soon returned, and 
 they once more walked on, but Zeph did not 
 speak, for she was intent on what she almost 
 hoped w^as a ray of light, a little clearer than 
 any she had yet seen from any of the lamps 
 they had passed. It turned out to be a very 
 poor thing in the way of light when they came 
 a step nearer to it ; so, in great disappointment, 
 she said, ' Suppose that instead of being in the 
 Uxbridge Eoad, as you say we are, we find out 
 that we are miles from home ! What is the 
 matter. Jack ? Why are you stopping .^ ' 
 
 A strange voice answered, ' I am stopping 
 
A YELLOW FOG 31 
 
 because I am very much afraid that you have 
 made a mistake, but I hoj^e it is not too late to 
 rectify it.' 
 
 To see the face of the speaker was of course 
 impossible, but there was no need to see it — 
 she knew he was not Jack. ' I thought you 
 were my brother ! ' she said in great distress, 
 dropping the hand with which she was about to 
 grasp his, and standing still in dismay. ' Then 
 I have lost him ! What shall I do ? ' 
 
 ' Let us turn back at once. You can only 
 have left him a minute or two ago, — we are 
 certain to find him.' 
 
 ' Do you really think so ? ' said she more 
 hopefully, ' I will call him. Jack ! Jack ! 
 Mary ! I am here. Do come.' 
 
 But no one answered, and no one came save 
 strangers as wayworn and lost as herself. She 
 stood still, utterly overwhelmed by this new 
 blow. Then she felt she must give some ex- 
 planation. 'We all went to a concert,' she 
 began, her voice broken with sobs, w^hich she 
 tried to restrain but could not,— 'my two 
 
32 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 sisters, and my little brother Jack, and Mrs. 
 Simonds, a friend of ours, and her boy. You 
 know what a night it has been ! Mrs. Simonds 
 and one of my sisters were behind, and some- 
 how we were parted from them ; but I never 
 thought I should lose Jack and Mary too,' here 
 she was interrupted by a sob, ' and it was all 
 done in a moment ! My sister missed her foot- 
 ing and fell into the road, and poor little Jack 
 left loose of my hand to go and help her, and 
 when you came by I fancied you were he, and 
 walked away with you, and now I shall never 
 find him ! Oh, it has been a wretched night ! ' 
 sob, sob, sob. 
 
 'Oh, don't take a small misfortune so ter- 
 ribly to heart,' said the stranger ; ' I can under- 
 stand your distress, but no one has been hurt, 
 and we shall find your brother. He must be 
 very near. We should find him quite easily if 
 this fog didn't deaden sound so much, but we 
 are quite certain to find him. Besides, if the 
 worst come to pass, and we do not, you can tell 
 me where you five, and I will take you home.' 
 
A YELLOW FOG 33 
 
 ' Oh, thank you, thank you most heartily ; 
 but I must not go home. I must stay here 
 till I find the others. They will be so miser- 
 able about me ! Jack ! Mary ! Jack ! ' Again 
 and again she called them. She was conscious 
 that crowds as anxious and bewildered as her- 
 self were hurrying by ; none knew her voice ; 
 many of them seemed to be in great alarm 
 about friends of their own. She gave up call- 
 ing her brother and sister, and stood in silent 
 anguish. 
 
 'Tell me where you Hve,' said he. She 
 made a great effort to answer him, but, even 
 in this moment of emotion, could not mention 
 the name of the district in which her home 
 was without a pang. 
 
 ' I live in De Manvers Town,' said she at 
 last ruefully. ' My father writes books, and 
 he likes to live there because it is so quiet ; ' 
 and then she would have given worlds to recall 
 that assertion, which had been made on the 
 spur of the moment because no other excuse 
 presented itself, for quiet and De Manvers 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Town had no kinship with each other. ' Be- 
 sides, we are poor,' said she pathetically, as 
 a sort of amends for having so outstripped 
 truth. 
 
 ' If you will stand here by this lamp-post,' 
 said he, ' I will run back and try to find your 
 brother.' 
 
 ' Oh, no, please don't go ; I beg you not 
 to leave me ! ' cried Zeph in great fear, ' I shall 
 die of terror if you do ! ' 
 
 He did not speak for a moment. He was 
 thinking what he had better do. 
 
 ' You are a stranger to me, I know, and I 
 ought not to be troublesome to you,' said she 
 apologetically ; ' only every one else is so very 
 much more strange.' 
 
 'But I am dehghted to be of service to 
 you — ^I am indeed. Do not be afraid of my 
 being so base as to desert you : I promise not 
 to leave you until I have provided for your 
 safety. The first thing to do is to find out 
 where we are. A policeman would tell us — 
 that is, if he knew himself. But stay : I'll 
 
A YELLOW FOG 35 
 
 ring the bell of the first house I can make out 
 to be lighted — some of those we have passed 
 must be, but it is impossible to see either 
 houses or hghts.' 
 
 He talked ; Zeph could do nothing but 
 weep. She was cold, and unhappy, and terri- 
 fied : and wherever she was, she was sure she 
 was a long way from home. 
 
 ' We had much better giv€ up any idea 
 of finding your brother and sister,' said he, 
 ' and make the best of our way to your home. 
 Take my arm ; you must not stand here 
 any longer ; you are coughing so much, we 
 really ought to be moving. Are you warmly 
 dressed ? ' 
 
 ' But I am anxious about them. Jack is 
 quite a httle boy, he is only ten ; and Mary is 
 younger than I am, and I am only nineteen. 
 What will they do, poor things ? ' 
 
 He had while she was speaking touched 
 her shoulder, and found that she was wearing 
 some garment which felt very damp. She 
 said that she was warm enough, but he was 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 afraid she was not. ' I'll take you home first/ 
 said he, ' and then if your brother and sister 
 are not there, I promise you I will do my best 
 to find them. Take my arm, please, and then 
 I shall not lose you.' 
 
 He saw a glimmering hght and felt his 
 way to the steps of a house, a large house it 
 seemed to be by the portico, and at last he 
 found the bell. 
 
 ' This is Number Five Ambassadors' Gate, 
 sir,' said a servant very gruffly, for the fog 
 which rushed in through the open door was 
 repugnant to a delicate sense of comfort which 
 it had been the business of his life for many 
 years to cultivate. ' Oh, I beg your pardon, 
 Mr. Daylesford ; I did not see it was you, sir. 
 Would you allow me to get a lantern and 
 show you to your own house, sir .^ ' 
 
 ' No, thank you,' replied the stranger. 
 Then he turned to Josephine, whose face and 
 figure he was beginning to be able to see a 
 little. ' My own house is six doors from this ; 
 I live at Number Eleven. Would you hke to 
 
A YELLOW FOG 37 
 
 take shelter there, while I send for a cab for 
 you ? I will escort you home if you will 
 allow me, whether you walk or drive ; but I 
 think we had better have a cab.' 
 
 ' Oh, no, thank you.' she replied, * I don't 
 think I dare go in a cab, but I wish you would 
 tell me what I ought to do.' She said this 
 very humbly, she was so unused to act for 
 herself, and so uncertain what a girl would be 
 expected to do in such circumstances. She 
 wished he would take her home as quickly as 
 possible, but was afraid he would not really 
 care to take the trouble to go as far as De 
 Manvers Town with a poor little girl who was 
 lost. Just at that moment he was wilhng to 
 take much more trouble for her than he had 
 been before they had rung at that bell : he had 
 been sorry for her before, but now, having had 
 the opportunity of looking at her afforded by 
 the small amount of light which issued from 
 the hall at Number Five, he had become aware 
 that she was very beautiful, and had the most 
 wonderful eyes he had ever seen in his life. 
 
38 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 So when she said, ' Tell me what you 
 think I ought to do,' he rephed, ' I think you 
 had better let ine try to help you to find your 
 way to your own home at once.' 
 
 'But then you will have to walk all the 
 way back here again,' said Zeph, grieving over 
 the thought that hers was not a home into 
 which she could freely invite a lordly stranger 
 accustomed to better things. 
 
 ' My dear young lady,' said he firmly, ' you 
 quite forget that I am a man, and strong, and 
 able to find my way about quite well when I 
 don't mind losing it a little — even if I had to 
 walk about all night, it would not hurt me.' 
 
 ' You are very kind ; I am afraid that even 
 if I am putting you to great inconvenience I 
 shall still have to accept your kind ofier : please 
 let us go.' 
 
 Mr. Daylesford then cautiously made his 
 way back to the main road. This he could 
 only do by a careful computation of turnings, 
 and by keeping his hand on the raihngs of the 
 houses all the time. But now that they were 
 
A YELLOW FOG 39 
 
 en route, he resolved not to let his companion 
 make such a misery of the adventure. He 
 began to talk to her, and was determined that 
 she should answer. ' You have been to hear 
 the "Elijah" at the Albert Hall, I suppose? 
 Was it good ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no, no,' replied Zeph, who was hardly 
 ever free from a feehng of mortification at her 
 own poverty. 'No, we don't go to these — I 
 mean we have not been there ; we only went to 
 a People's Concert at Kensington Town Hall.' 
 
 ' Was it good ? those concerts are some- 
 times.' 
 
 ' Yes, very good. I enjoyed it, but then I 
 go out so seldom that I always enjoy every- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Do you like going to the theatre ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' replied Zeph most emphatically, 
 ' but I have only been twice in my whole life. 
 If any one were to tell me that I should go to 
 the theatre next week, I don't beheve I should 
 sleep an hour until the play came, for thinking 
 of what was in prospect ! ' He was silent for 
 
40 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 a moment, and she added, ' And some people 
 go nearly every night ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, and I am afraid that I used to be 
 one of them. I only returned to England three 
 months ago, and English theatres were new to 
 me — now I don't go half so often.' 
 
 *You are getting tired of it?' asked Zeph, 
 hoping to hear him say that this joy, which 
 was one of those she most coveted, ceased to 
 be a joy to those who could indulge in it to 
 their heart's content. She could endure her 
 own pleasureless existence more patiently if 
 those who seemed to have better hves did not 
 get the full amount of happiness out of the 
 amusements which fell so plentifully to their 
 lot. 
 
 ' I am afraid I am ; but then I can give up 
 going when that happens — there is always 
 something else to do.' 
 
 She could have torn away her hand from 
 his arm : his world and hers were so utterly 
 and so cruelly different : there was always 
 something else that was pleasant for him to do. 
 
A YELLOW FOG 41 
 
 No such consolation was hers. She sighed, 
 and was silent. 
 
 ' Don't sigh,' said he. ' I know by certain 
 landmarks that we are going right, and what 
 is more, I am certain that the fog is not quite 
 so thick. Look — don't you see a dull kind of 
 glimmer there — it means a brilhantly lighted 
 room.' 
 
 Josephine drew a long breath of relief, 
 'It has been a dreadful night — at least, it 
 would have been if I had not met you. What 
 should I have done without you? Do you 
 know, I believe I should have crept into some 
 portico, and have sat still in a corner until I 
 could see to go home.' 
 
 ' Not a- bad thing to do,' said he cheerily ; 
 'but it really is growing much clearer.' He 
 spoke with more certainty on this point than 
 he seemed to have any warrant for, but he was 
 so sorry for her. He could feel by the way 
 her hand lay on his arm that she was utterly 
 weary and despondent. Nevertheless, parties 
 of two and three persons passed them by 
 
42 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 frequently, and they were surely much more 
 visible than before. At length they came into 
 a street where an immense gin-palace actually 
 lighted up a large piece of pavement in front 
 of it. When they came within range of its 
 brilliance, they both turned as if by mutual 
 consent to look at each other — each longed 
 to see the other's face. When the door of 
 Number Five had been open he had seen hers, 
 though imperfectly ; but she had been so 
 indifferent to everything except getting home 
 again, that she had scarcely looked at him. 
 She saw a tall brown-haired and brown-bearded 
 man, looking searchingly in her face. He 
 had a good nose and mouth, and a remarkably 
 pleasant smile, and he could not help smiling 
 both with eyes and mouth when he met her 
 inquiring gaze. Her eyes fell at once, but soon 
 she raised them again, though this time she 
 tried to show less curiosity. 
 
 ' It is very natural that we should wish to 
 see each other,' said he. ' We have been 
 walking along side by side in total darkness for 
 
A YELLOW FOG 43 
 
 more than an hour, neither of us having the least 
 idea what the other was hke. There's something 
 just a trifle ghost-hke about that, isn't there ? 
 You might have had the same kind of gentle- 
 man with you that Leonora had when she set 
 out on her midnight ride, and I might have 
 been escorting the lovely Maid of Colonsay to 
 her abode ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, but she did not reside in De Manvers 
 Town,' replied Josephine, who had never heard 
 of the Maid of Colonsay, but could not forget 
 that very soon she and this gentleman, who 
 looked so handsome and dignified, and be- 
 longed, as she could easily see, to a class of 
 society far above that of any one whom she had 
 ever known, would enter the street in which 
 her father's house was situated, and before they 
 could reach it would have to pass the line of 
 shops which bhghted the neighbourhood. What 
 would he think of her ? She would never see 
 him again of course, but it was dreadful to 
 think of his carrying away such an impression 
 of her and her surroundings! Would the 
 
44 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 shops be open or shut ? When open they were 
 generally illuminated by flaring jets of gas, 
 and so lavishly that all their cheap catchpenny 
 contents could well be seen. The nearer she 
 came to them the more uneasy she grew. The 
 worst shop of all was one for ready-made 
 clothes, and during the last week or two its 
 window had been filled with a row of trousers 
 dangling before the eyes of all passers by, each 
 bearing a large white ticket with this touching 
 appeal : ' Give us one trial. lOs. 66?.' She felt 
 that she would rather die than walk past that 
 shop with Mr. Daylesford. He had been talk- 
 ing all this time, but she had only been able to 
 return short and unsatisfactory answers to what 
 he said, for her thoughts were chilled by this 
 fear. 
 
 ' I am afraid you are very tired,' said he at 
 last. 
 
 ' Oh no, I am not,' she replied joyously, for 
 she had just ascertained that all the shops were 
 shut, and that there was not enough light to 
 reveal the worst features of Lome Gardens. 
 
A YELLOW FOG 45 
 
 ' I am not at all tired. I am aDxious about 
 the others, though. Do you think there is any 
 hope of their being at home ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I do ; but you will see if they are 
 in a moment. Five Lome Gardens, I think 
 you said ; here is Number One.' 
 
 And now Josephine had a new terror. Sup- 
 pose her poor dear hard-working father should 
 have become aware that she was missing, and 
 were to shuffle to the door in his lamp -shaped 
 slippers and dressing-gown when he heard the 
 bell ring ! On such a night as this it was not 
 absolutely impossible that a certain amount of 
 anxiety might not penetrate even to his study. 
 Or Polly, with a loud ' Here is Zeph ! ' and still 
 louder kiss, might rush forward to welcome 
 back the sister she loved and quarrelled with 
 so heartily. Zeph tried to say good night and 
 to thank Mr. Daylesford at the foot of the 
 steps. 
 
 ' Oh no,' said he decisively, ' I must know 
 if you are relieved of all anxiety about the rest 
 of your party before I say good-bye.' 
 
46 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 She ran up the steps and rang. The door 
 was opened directly. It was Jack who opened 
 it, and her father was standing close behind him. 
 
 ' That's right ! ' exclaimed Jack. ' Here's 
 Zeph, and now we are all here ! ' 
 
 ' Thank Heaven for that, and also for letting 
 father be well behind Jack,' thought Zeph ; 
 'no one can see his feet if Jack stands still 
 where he is.' 
 
 ' Father, this gentleman found me when I 
 was lost, and kindly walked home with me,' 
 said she simply. 
 
 Mr. Treherne thanked the stranger in such 
 a dignified and graceful manner that Zeph was 
 delighted. He even asked him to come in. 
 To her great satisfaction, however, this invita- 
 tion was dechned. ' It is too late, thank you,' 
 said the stranger. 'I am very glad to have 
 been of service to your daughter. I hope she 
 will not suffer from her exposure to the cold. 
 Is there a cab-stand near ? ' Jack volunteered 
 to show him one about five miuutes' walk from 
 the house, so they departed together, and no 
 
A YELLOW FOG . 47 
 
 sooner had the door closed on them than Zeph 
 said, ' Father, who was the Maid of Colonsay ? ' 
 
 ' Come to my room to-morrow, and you 
 shall read about her,' replied Mr. Treherne ; 
 his anxiety about his child had actually pro- 
 duced an invitation to the study ! ' I have 
 been very uneasy about you, dear,' he said. 
 ' You have been in great peril. This comes of 
 going out ! Girls ought not to leave their 
 parents' roof — they ought to stay quietly at 
 home. Good night, dear Zeph ; this has been a 
 sad anxiety and hindrance to my poor work.' 
 
 ' Is Mrs. Simonds safe ? ' asked Zeph when 
 she was upstairs vdth her sisters. 
 
 'Yes,' replied Polly ; ' Aggy and Jack and 
 I ran round to see as soon as the fog cleared 
 away a little, and Frank is safe, and so is she ; 
 but her bonnet is completely ruined! The 
 fog has made all those lovely flowers quite 
 dirty and black ! ' 
 
 ' I do call that a misfortune ! ' said Aggy. 
 But Zeph did not, and went upstairs to her 
 own little room — where, weary in mind and 
 
48 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 body, she sank on to her hard black box. 
 Ten minutes later Jack knocked at her door. 
 ' I was awfully afraid you were lost for ever ! ' 
 said he ; and then, before she could speak, he 
 added, ' I say, Zeph, that fellow that walked all 
 the way home with you asked an awful lot of 
 questions about you and all of us ? ' 
 
 'What did he ask?' 
 
 ' What your name was. What Zeph stood 
 for. I believe he thought it a very queer 
 short name ; and then he wanted to know 
 which of my sisters I liked best.' 
 
 ' Which did you say ? You are a wicked 
 boy if you didn't say Zeph ! ' 
 
 ' Never you mind what I said. And then 
 he wanted me to tell him if you were fond of 
 reading ; and I said no, you never opened a 
 book ! ' 
 
 ' Jack, you need not have said that.' 
 
 ' Well, you never do ; and besides, if you 
 did, why should he be told about it ? I don't see 
 why a man who will never see you again need 
 inquire whether you are fond of reading or not.' 
 
49 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY. 
 
 Clar. Icli will nicht dass er hoffen soil, und ich kann ilin 
 doch nicht yerzweifeln lassen. — Egmont. 
 
 ' I SAY, Zeph,' exclaimed Agnes a few days 
 later, ' would you like to hear a bit of news ? 
 What do you think has happened? Mother 
 sent me directly after breakfast with a message 
 to Mrs. Simonds, and she had just had a letter 
 from John. He has had an appointment given 
 him, and is to go to be second master at Aln- 
 minster School at Easter, and he is comino- to 
 London to see her now ; but she is quite funny 
 about this visit, and declares that it is all very 
 well for him to say that he wants to see her, 
 but that she is quite certain it is you who are 
 his greatest attraction. Why, you foohsh girl, 
 how you are blushing ! ' 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Zeph looked as if she could have slain 
 Agnes. She did not like this kind of conver- 
 sation, and walked out of the room. By far 
 the greater part of her day was spent in the 
 garret in which she slept. She had made it as 
 pretty as she could. She had embroidered a 
 counterpane for her bed, had found a couple 
 of old hearth-rugs which played the part of a 
 carpet, and she had adorned the walls with 
 ' Cherry Eipe,' ' Little Eed Eiding Hood,' and 
 every good coloured newspaper illustration 
 which came in her way. Some china cups and 
 saucers were artistically arranged on her man- 
 telpiece, and her small bookcase full of railway 
 novels hung on the wall. An old mahogany 
 looking-glass, on the top of a small chest of 
 drawers which did duty for a toilet-table, was 
 furnished with draperies of spotted muslin tied 
 back with cherry-coloured ribbons; and two 
 tall china candlesticks with short bits of wax 
 candle in them stood by and added a sensible 
 amount of happiness to her life. A glove- 
 box, a handkerchief-box, and some scent-bottles 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 51 
 
 were there too, and one or two other trifles. 
 They were no trifles to Zeph. They repre- 
 sented the strongest efibrt it was in her power 
 to make to escape from being dragged down 
 by poverty and care. All the people down- 
 stairs — ^for thus she was wont to describe 
 her father, mother, and sisters — were so pros- 
 trated by the poverty which had taken pos- 
 session of the house, that they had ceased to 
 care for any of the graces or refinements of 
 life. They ate their daily bread, indifferent 
 to how it was set before them. They knew 
 that elegances and luxuries were beyond their 
 reach, but while surrendering them perforce to 
 cruel necessity, they at the same time renounced 
 a thousand small things which lend an inde- 
 finable grace to existence, and which poor 
 people need not forego. Josephine was resolved 
 that nothing should ever make her follow their 
 example. She would do her best to help her 
 mother if ever her mother would give her any- 
 thing to do, but she would not ru,n about in 
 shoes that were worn out of shape, or wear 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ,r-or..Tv nc IIIINOS 
 
52 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 dresses with holes in them because they were 
 not worth the trouble of mending. Zeph^s 
 dresses were always mended so long as the 
 material would bear her stitches, and she 
 always looked nice — though her dress might 
 not be worth half a crown. After flying from 
 Agnes's tongue, she shut her bedroom door and 
 dropped down on the black box to think. 
 John Simonds had got the second-mastership 
 at Alnminster School, and was coming back, 
 and she would soon see him. He was coming 
 to see her. Time was when she and John had 
 seen each other every day, and had loved each 
 other in a simple and childish but very resolute 
 fashion. He had always said that he loved her 
 • better than any one else in the whole world, and 
 that he should always do so. She had said 
 much the same thing to him — she remembered 
 it perfectly, and how he had said, ' I want to 
 say something to you, Zeph ; and that is, that 
 you must never love any one else but me; 
 and when I get rich I shall come foi you, and 
 take you away to live with me always.' But 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 53 
 
 that was nearly three years ago, when she was 
 only sixteen. She had never quite dared to let 
 herself believe that he would remember her all 
 that long time. Was he rich now ? Was this 
 appointment a thing to make him rich ? He 
 would have to hve in Alnminster. Why did he 
 want to see her? Gradually, as she asked 
 herself these questions, the past, and his bright 
 resolute face and cheery affectionate ways, rose 
 up more and more distinctly before her. She 
 had not seen him for nearly three years, but 
 she had never forgotten him. She had always 
 loved him better than any one outside of her 
 own family. She did so still. Indeed, in her 
 heart she was conscious that she loved him 
 more than she loved any of her own people ; 
 she meant no unkindness to them, but she was 
 afraid she did. Was that wrong .? She hardly 
 ever saw her father and mother ; and her sisters, 
 except at rare moments when they showed 
 some affection, were to her little more than 
 great rough, tiresome girls, who made the house 
 uncomfortable by their untidy, ungentle ways. 
 
54 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Well, it will be strange to see poor dear 
 John again,' slie thought, and she sat dwelling 
 on the idea with the greatest happiness. After 
 a long time she heard a knock at her bedroom 
 door. It was Jack. 
 
 ' You might help me with my theme, Zeph,' 
 said he. 
 
 ' I can't, dear ; I am thinking of something 
 very particular.' 
 
 ' My theme is particular ; I shall catch it, I 
 know, if it is not written.' 
 
 'What is it about?' 
 
 ' The duties of a schoolboy.' 
 
 ' But surely you know far more about the 
 duties of a schoolboy than I do.' 
 
 ' I dare say I do, but you can write 
 better.' 
 
 ' What are the duties. Jack.? ' 
 
 ' Oh, if you hsten to what the masters tell 
 you, there are a lot ; but if you listen to what 
 the boys say, I don't think there is much else 
 to do than never tell tales. You don't know 
 what a row I got into, Zeph, last week when I 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 55 
 
 told the master that one of the fellows was 
 copying.' 
 
 ' You will write your theme better than I 
 can ; I should only write a prosy thing that 
 every one would know was not yours.' 
 
 ' That would never do ! I'll write it myself, 
 and you'll help me with my arithmetic' 
 
 ' What are you doing ? ' 
 
 ' Eule of three.' 
 
 ' I know nothing of the rule of three. I 
 know nothing of any rule but subtraction, and 
 I shall never want any other.' Zeph sighed as 
 she said it. Jack opened his eyes wide and 
 stared, and said he could not imagine what she 
 meant. 
 
 ^ You silly!' said she. ' Some one gives you 
 ten shilhngs, and you spend part of it, and 
 then you spend some more, and so you go 
 on subtracting and subtracting till you have 
 nothing left.' 
 
 ' Who told you about that ? ' said Jack, 
 with much surprise. 
 
 'Who told me what?' 
 
56 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' That some one did give me ten shillings 
 the other night,' said he mysteriously. ' Don't 
 go and tell mother, or she'll want me to use it 
 in buying boots or something.' 
 
 ' But who gave it to you — not Mr. Dayles- 
 ford?' 
 
 ' Yes, Mr. Daylesford.' 
 
 ' But why didn't you tell me before ? ' 
 
 ' Because I made up my mind to tell no 
 one ; I don't object to your knowing, though. 
 By Jove, Zeph, but he had a lot of money in 
 his pocket ! I heard it jingle as he pulled out 
 half a sovereign for me. He just said, " Here, 
 my little man, I dare say you have plenty of 
 uses for this. Buy something in remembrance 
 of the fog ; " and he did not at all seem to think 
 that he was giving me a lot. I hke Mr. 
 Daylesford, Zeph.' 
 
 ' I dare say you do,' replied Zeph thought- 
 fully. ' I rather hke him too.' 
 
 'Do you suppose we shall ever see him 
 again ? ' 
 
 ' No ; why should we ? ' 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 57 
 
 'Because when he bade me good-bye he 
 said, " I hope we shall meet again very soon." 
 That was just as the cab was driving oiOf with 
 him; 
 
 ' Come, Jack dear, go away and write your 
 theme,' said Zeph, who wanted to think of 
 something much more important. He went 
 and toiled at his theme, scraping up every bit 
 of schoolboy morality he could muster. She 
 sat on her box till darkness fell, wondering 
 what John Simonds would say to her, and 
 what she had better say to him. She was 
 called down to tea before she had half done 
 thinking. Her family were evidently expecting 
 a visitor. The fire looked bright, the hearth 
 was brushed up. The chairs were cleared of 
 odds and ends for which her sisters never 
 seemed to be able to find any other place ; the 
 lamp looked as if it had been specially cared 
 for ; two or three unwonted delicacies had been 
 put on the tea-table, and Polly and Aggy, who 
 had made all these preparations for the visitor, 
 had also flung a big bit of muslin and lace 
 
58 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 round their necks, and had each stuck a large 
 red artificial rose in it just under their left 
 ears. 
 
 Agnes was standing on a footstool on the 
 hearth-rug trying to see the efiect of this adorn- 
 ment in the little mirror over the mantelpiece, 
 when John Simonds entered the room. ' Oh, 
 what a pity ! ' she muttered to herself in dismay. 
 ' I do wish he had not caught me at the glass ! ' 
 and her cheeks crimsoned with shame. But 
 he neither saw what she was doing, nor her 
 confusion at being detected in an act of vanity ; 
 nay, more, his colour was as bright as hers 
 when he warmly grasped Zeph's hand and 
 eagerly tried to meet her half-reluctant eyes. 
 Brief as their greeting was, there was some- 
 thing in his manner which told her unmis- 
 takably what he had come to say. Zeph 
 blushed too, and tried to creep quietly away 
 into the most remote corner of the room. How 
 handsome he was ! All the three girls mentally 
 made this exclamation at the selfsame moment. 
 He was of middle height, with dark hair and 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 59 
 
 fine dark warm brown eyes, which danced 
 with joy now ; and he was a fine, manly, clever- 
 looking fellow, who looked as if he could carve 
 his own way in any hne of life, and, what is 
 more, could undertake to guarantee the woman 
 he loved against all such misfortunes as were 
 to be averted by bravery and forethought. 
 Zeph glanced at him whenever she dared, and 
 began to feel very proud of him. 
 
 ' How is Mrs. Treherne ? ' said he, for she 
 had not yet appeared. 
 
 ' Mother is kept in close attendance on 
 father, and he is so busy.' 
 
 ' I suppose so. How kind she was to me 
 when I was a little fellow ! I am longing to 
 see her. Oh, here she is ! ' 
 
 Before Mrs. Treherne had been five minutes 
 in the room she began to feel herself a person 
 of considerable importance, for it was easy to 
 see that he was in love with Zeph, and she was 
 Zeph's mother. She was so engrossed by this 
 discovery that for some time she actually forgot 
 to take her husband's tea to the study ; not 
 
6o THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 that this lapse of memory at all interfered with 
 his comfort, for he always forgot to take it 
 until it was cold. 
 
 'My dear,' said she when she did go with 
 the tea, ' there is such a nice handsome young 
 man upstairs, and he is over head and ears in 
 love with Zeph.' 
 
 ' Is he ? Don't tell me about it just yet, 
 dear, for I am so busy.' 
 
 Mrs. Treherne went back to the drawing- 
 room ; her husband did seem unusually busy, 
 and perhaps would not miss her if she stayed 
 away a httle longer. That young man was 
 certainly in love with Zeph ; so Mrs. Treherne 
 smoothed the folds of her well-worn black silk, 
 held her head erect, and sat with a pleasant 
 smile on her lips, watching the young people, 
 and ready to put in a kindly word if it were 
 wanted. Not so Polly and Agnes. They saw 
 that John Simonds loved Zeph, and such being 
 the case, they quietly but firmly desisted from 
 contributing anything to the entertainment of 
 a young man whose eyes and heart were not 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 6i 
 
 for them. They loved Zeph dearly in their 
 own peculiar way, but they were continually 
 ruffled by her assumption of superiority. They 
 eagerly longed for the time when she would 
 get married, and they would be able to have 
 more of their own way. When tea was over, 
 they retreated to a corner and sat apart, but 
 though they were quite well-behaved and quiet, 
 Zeph knew that they were watching her most 
 narrowly, and weighing every word she said, 
 with a view to discovering if she too were in 
 love. They made her painfully nervous, and 
 the silence of every one but herself and John 
 Simonds was most uncomfortable. She tried 
 to make them talk ; they only ans^vered in 
 monosyllables. She then tried to draw her 
 mother into the conversation, but Mrs. Treheme, 
 who was always rather a silent woman, was 
 now too uneasy at leaving her husband alone 
 so long, and too much occupied in thinking of 
 this new development of the family fortunes, 
 to be able to say much. Zeph, in despair, 
 went away to seek Jack. He had retired once 
 
62 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 more to his own little room, and there she 
 found him with inky fingers, hair thrust back, 
 and pen nibbled to a stump, just finishing his 
 theme. 
 
 'You might have helped a fellow, Zeph,' 
 said he pathetically ; ' I have had such a turn 
 with it ! ' 
 
 'I would have helped you if I had felt 
 able ; but, dear child, I am quite sure what 
 you have written is far better than anything 
 I could have done.' 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said he, ' but I don't think so. 
 I'll tell you what, Zeph : you might just take it 
 and read it before you go to bed to-night, and 
 tell me if you think it will do. There's a fine 
 lot of it, isn't there ? ' said he, with conscious 
 pride. ' I have filled one of father's sheets of 
 paper. I had to go to mother for paper, and 
 she gave me four of father's big best sheets. 
 Stop, Zeph : there's another thing. I want to 
 know if John Simonds has come to London on 
 purpose to see you ? ' Jack had heard Polly 
 and Agnes talking, and was curious. 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 63 
 
 'Why should he come to see me, Jack? 
 We have known him for years ; he has come 
 to see us all, I suppose,' replied Zeph, but her 
 cheeks flamed scarlet. She folded up Jack's 
 theme and put it in her pocket, and made him 
 return to the drawing-room with her. But no 
 sooner was she there than she again felt the 
 freezing influence of her sisters' silent gaze. If 
 they would but say something ! 
 
 ' Oh, I say, how quiet you all are ! ' ex- 
 claimed Jack, before he had been in the draw- 
 ing-room five minutes. ' Can't you play some 
 game ? It's so stupid sitting this way ! ' 
 
 A spelling game was proposed, but three 
 of the party did not feel themselves strong in 
 spelling. 
 
 'Then let us play "What is my thought 
 like," said some one, but Polly and Agnes 
 affirmed that they had no thoughts. 
 
 ' Well, I have one,' said Jack, ' and that is 
 that, as you are not going to do anything jolly, 
 rU just go ofi" to bed ; ' and he did go, bidding 
 Zeph not to forget what she had to do for him 
 
64 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 before she slept. Finally, they agreed to play 
 a game which required four players, two on 
 one side and two on the other ; and Polly and 
 Agnes completely met their guest's wishes, for 
 they insisted on being partners in the game, 
 and left him to play with Josephine. They 
 perhaps only meant to amuse themselves with 
 the two whom they were already in their own 
 minds beginning to call the lovers, but at all 
 events they now behaved quite pleasantly. 
 
 ' You two go out first,' said Agnes, for it 
 was a game which involved the banishment of 
 two of the players while the other two laid 
 their plans ; ' you two go out, and Polly and I 
 will settle what we had better do.' 
 
 Zeph and her companion went out on to 
 a cold little landing, lighted by a small lamp. 
 The door was hardly shut before John Simonds 
 said, ' I have been longing to see you alone, 
 Zeph.' Zeph felt faint. 
 
 ' You have heard that I have been ap- 
 pointed second master in Alnminster School .^ ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said she, but she could say no more. 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 65 
 
 * Then if you remember the last words I 
 said to you, dear, you know why I am here 
 now.' 
 
 She trembled with nervousness, but she did 
 know, and the knowledge did not make her 
 unhappy. He took her hand. She did not 
 draw it away. She had known him ever since 
 he was a boy, and had always liked him, but 
 perhaps never so much as now. 
 
 ' You do know, and you will say yes when 
 I ask you to come to Alnminster with me .^ ' 
 
 'Oh, no, no,' said Zeph in sudden alarm. 
 ' You must wait. I don't quite say yes. I 
 must have a little more time to think.' 
 
 ' Why, Zeph, if you are like me, you have 
 been thinking all the time.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know ; but now when it has come 
 so suddenly — no, John, you must ' 
 
 ' You won't send me away unhappy ? 1 
 only got to London at half-past five, and I hav(^ 
 to go to Alnminster early in the morning for a 
 day or two to make arrangements : let me have 
 something happy to think ' 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' We are quite ready,' cried Polly and 
 Agnes, suddenly appearing at the door. 
 
 ' One word, Zeph,' he whispered eagerly ; 
 ' say one word ; ' but Zeph walked into the 
 room. He could but follow her and seem 
 interested in what he was doing, though his 
 eyes were more bent on piercing the secret of 
 Zeph's intentions than on picking up any hint 
 of the mystery of the game from the two girls' 
 indiscreet glances at each other at critical 
 moments. Zeph was in such a maze of be- 
 wilderment as to what it would best beseem 
 her to do that she blundered at every turn, 
 and at length Polly and Agnes told her with 
 all the frank outspokenness of sisters that she 
 was so stupid there was no fun in playing with 
 her, and sat down to watch and scrutinise as 
 before. As for John Simonds, he was now in 
 such a state of excitement and eagerness for 
 certainty that it was quite pitiable. Zeph 
 never raised her eyes ; there was nothing to be 
 learnt from them. She answered when he 
 spoke, and answered kindly, but so nervously 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 67 
 
 that his heart ached for her. Mrs. Treherne 
 somehow seemed to see that she, was called ou 
 to help the young j^eople, but did not know 
 how to do it, and talked continuously. ' It 
 will soon be three years since we have seen 
 you, John ; there has always been something 
 to stop your coming home.' 
 
 ' I have always had to take pupils or do 
 something,' said he. ' You may be sure that I 
 have wished to come.' 
 
 ' You must find us all much changed,' said 
 she ; and thus she maundered on until her 
 speeches jarred so on him in his present state 
 of nervous excitement that he felt as if he 
 could bear it no longer. Presently Polly left 
 the room for something, and he ventured to 
 draw near Zeph and say to her in a low voice, 
 ' Don't send me away without an answer.' She 
 looked up in his face, but could not bear to see 
 the agonised entreaty in his eyes, and, whisper- 
 ing 'Wait a moment,' hastily left the room. 
 She would write a hue if he wished it, if only 
 she could find pen, ink, and paper. She 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 dared not go to her father's room, and there 
 was none anywhere else but in that she had 
 just left. All at once she remembered the 
 poor dear inky little boy she had so lately 
 visited in the garret next to her own. He was 
 now fast asleep ; but she stole in without dis- 
 turbing him, and took his pen and ink and one 
 of the large sheets of paper that his mother had 
 given him. In the centre of the ample page 
 she scrawled with trembling fingers, ' Dear 
 John, don't press me for an answer until you 
 come back again. I. cannot give one now. 
 Please wait.' She folded the sheet in half and 
 then folded it again, put it in her pocket, and 
 went downstairs to try to give it to him. She 
 was deeply sorry for him, and knew she loved 
 him better than any one else she had ever seen, 
 and yet that was all she could bring herself to 
 write. They all looked at her with much 
 curiosity as she re-entered the room, but she 
 had decided on a line of conduct, and no 
 longer cared so much. He was standing by 
 the fire. She went and stood near him, and as 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 69 
 
 soon as she could do it unobserved, quietly 
 took the paper from her pocket and slightly 
 pushed it along the mantelpiece towards him. 
 He was very quick in possessing himself of it, 
 and soon afterwards bade them all good-bye. 
 He ran down the steps into the road and 
 walked on until he was out of sight of the 
 house, and then hurried to the first lamp-post 
 and opened Zeph's paper What a quantity 
 she had written ! But what did he see ? Had 
 she given him this as an insult, or had she 
 made some strange mistake ? What he read 
 
 was 
 
 this : 
 
 'The Duty of a Schoolboy. 
 
 ' The duty of a schoolboy is to behave him- 
 self as a gentelman, not to bully or treat those 
 that are younger than himself badly. He 
 should be obeidient to his masters, not copy his 
 work off other boys' papers ; to work hard and 
 well, not let his charackter be spoilt by bad 
 conduck, idelness, impasitions, or detention ; 
 not to be rude or use bad languidge ; not to 
 
70 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 be decietful ; not to go with bad company ; 
 not to steal or cheat the commandments : every- 
 one from first to last ought to be able to con- 
 trole his temper, however good or bad it may 
 be ; not to tell anyone in charge of him of theft 
 or even of murder ; not to clime out of win- 
 dows or down spouts ; not to tell lies, or if they 
 do wrong to be frightened to tell of it, and tell 
 a lot of lies saying he did not do it ; not to con- 
 tradict ; not to be bribed or cheted ; not even 
 to steal a penny, though so httle, for if he steals 
 a penny and is not found out, he will steal 
 pounds ; if he get the opportunaty to go to 
 church regulerly ; to save his money till he 
 wants to buy something sensable, not to spend 
 it all in eatibles at Grubby 's ; not to be greedy 
 or to covet other people's goods ; to work 
 hard and do everything I have said here, and 
 he will get on fairly well in the school if he 
 
 does. 
 
 'John Seaton Treherxe, 1st form.' 
 
 Before John Simonds had read more than a 
 Hne or so he knew that he had got the wrong 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 71 
 
 paper, and that this was poor little Jack's 
 theme of which he had heard them speaking. 
 He must return it at once, or the boy would 
 probably suffer. He walked back to 5 Lome 
 Gardens. Lights were still to be seen in the 
 downstairs windows : perhaps there was a 
 chance of his getting the note intended for him- 
 self. He rang very gently. No one came to 
 the door ; every one was already far advanced 
 in the task of preparing to go to bed but Zeph 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Treherne. Zeph was in such 
 a state of restlessness that she had not even 
 gone upstairs. Mr. Treherne never took any 
 notice of any bell except to mutter a malediction . 
 Mrs. Treherne never dared to take any notice 
 of external noises w^hen she was with him.. 
 John rang again. 
 
 ' Who is there ? ' asked the voice of her he 
 best loved from within. 
 
 ' It is I, John Simonds,' said he. He found 
 that by putting his lips to the slit cut in the 
 door for the letter-box he could make her hear 
 without having to speak at all loud. 
 
72 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' You ! ' exclaimed Zeph, and her heart 
 leaped with joy, for ever since his departure 
 she had been repenting the coldness of her 
 letter. 
 
 ' Yes. You gave me Jack's theme instead 
 of what I wanted ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, did I ? did I really ? Oh, I see how 
 it happened; I wrote on the same kind of 
 paper as he did. Poor dear boy, what a state 
 he would have been in when to-morrow morn- 
 
 mg came! 
 
 ' But what a state I was in to-night ! Open 
 the door and let me give it to you, and then 
 you can give me the paper that was intended 
 for me.' 
 
 Zeph was terribly tempted to obey. It 
 was such a delight to hear his voice again ; it 
 would be such a delight to see his handsome 
 face ! Why should she not open the door and 
 have that great pleasure? Her fingers were 
 already on the bolt when she bethought her- 
 self of the folly she was about to commit. If 
 she opened the door and he came in, it was 
 
THE DUTY OF A SCHOOLBOY 7-^ 
 
 quite certain that he would leave the house 
 with her promise to be his wife. How foolish 
 it would be to let herself be so carried away by 
 feeling ! The few lines she had already written 
 contained all that she ought to say to him for 
 the present. He was going away for a day or 
 two. She had surely a right to ask him to give 
 her a day or two to decide a question which 
 would undoubtedly affect the happiness of her 
 whole life ! 
 
 ' Do open the door just for a moment,' he 
 pleaded once more. ' I am afraid of some one 
 passing by and hearing what I am saying.' 
 
 ' No, I cannot open it ; it is very hard to 
 open ; besides, there is no need. You can push 
 Jack's theme under it or put it into the letter- 
 box.' 
 
 ' But I want what you wrote me.' 
 
 ' I'll push that under the door.' 
 
 'I wish you would just tell me one thing,' 
 said he : 'Is your answer good or bad ? ' 
 
 * You will see it in a minute — there, I am 
 just working it under the door now — and I 
 
74 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 have the theme, so I think I must go. Good 
 night, John.' 
 
 ' But I cannot see here. Don't go yet. 
 Stop one moment, dear Zeph,' he exclaimed 
 hastily. ' You surely know that I have loved 
 you ever since the day I first saw you ; say you 
 love me.' 
 
 ' I can say nothing to night ; you will be 
 back here in a day or two.' 
 
 ' A day or two is a fearfully long time to 
 wait when one is so miserably anxious. You 
 don't like any one else better ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not ! You must know that I 
 don't — that I couldn't.' 
 
 ' And you are glad to see me back ? ' 
 
 ' Very glad — more glad than I can ever tell 
 you. Now you must not try to make me say 
 another word. Good night.' 
 
 ' But, Zeph- — ' But Zeph was gone. 
 
75 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW. 
 
 ' Si jeunesse savait — ' 
 
 ' Zeph ! Zeph ! Zeph ! ' screamed Jack at the 
 very top of his voice as he entered his father's 
 house next day — ' Zeph, where are you P 
 
 Come down this mom ' But here he 
 
 stopped, transfixed by the sight of his father, 
 who was standing just inside his study, and 
 now strode angrily forward and collared the 
 unlucky boy who had ventured to make a 
 noise so near those sacred precincts. 
 
 ' How dare you make such an uproar, you 
 stupid boy ? I shall not recover the shock you 
 have given my brain for the next hour I ' and 
 as Mr. Treherne spoke he looked at the un- 
 witting boy so sternly that for the moment he 
 
76 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 lost all power of speech. Jack had never seen 
 his father quit the study in that way before ; 
 he could only hold up a letter with ' Eleven 
 Ambassadors' Gate ' printed across the back 
 of the envelope, and stammer forth, ' It's a 
 letter from the gentleman who took care of 
 Zeph in the fog ! ' 
 
 ' What of that ? ' said Mr. Treherne, with 
 absolute indifference. ' I should like to know 
 if that is any reason for disturbing me ? ' 
 
 Agnes was looking over the balusters at 
 the top of the house, Polly doing the same 
 halfway down ; the servants had run to the 
 top of the kitchen stairs, and Mrs. Treherne 
 had followed her husband out of the study ; 
 for such a disturbance as this had never been 
 known before. 
 
 ' You little rascal ! ' said he angrily, taking 
 the offending letter, ' I cannot think what you 
 mean. If the Emperor of all the Eussias had 
 written, you could not have made more noise. 
 I shall take this letter myself, and then there 
 need be no more noise about it ; and as for 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 77 
 
 you, I sincerely hope that your mother will have 
 sense enough to lock you safely in your own 
 room ! ' Having said this, he retreated to his 
 den again, accompanied by his wife, who knew 
 that there was no necessity to act on his words. 
 
 ' Oh, Jack, what have you done ? ' ex- 
 claimed Polly. ' Couldn't you have waited till 
 you were safe upstairs? You know what 
 fatlier is ! ' 
 
 ' You see, the postman had just put it in my 
 hand. 1 knew Zeph would want her letter : 
 that's why I called her.' 
 
 ' She'll never see it now. Father will just 
 scribble a lot of notes on it, and then lock 
 it away and forget where it is, or else tear it 
 up, and mother won't dare to stop him,' said 
 Aggy, and then they sat down on the stairs to 
 wonder if any of them would ever know the 
 contents of that letter. Zeph was not at home ; 
 Mrs. Simonds had sent a note early in the 
 day to ask her to lunch and dine with her, and 
 Zeph had gone. 
 
 ' She was now sitting by Mrs. Simonds on a 
 
78 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 very uncomfortable sofa, and that lady, a very 
 spare, cross-looking matron of seven-and-fifty 
 winters, with a very pronounced structure on 
 her head by way of a cap, was talking about 
 John, and every now and then fixing an 
 anxious eye on Zeph's face to read in it, if 
 possible, whether she was beginning to feel her- 
 self part of the Simonds family. 
 
 ' You had some talk with him last night, of 
 course ? ' said Mrs. Simonds severely. 
 
 'A httle,' replied Zeph, shrinking from 
 the beady-black eyes which were examining 
 her. 
 
 ' And he told you about his appointment ? ' 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 As Zeph was so uncommunicative, Mrs. 
 Simonds began to inform her that John would 
 have four hundred a year and a house, that 
 he might easily treble his income by taking 
 boarders, and that people who took boarders 
 got rid of much of the trouble of providing for 
 them by sending large fixed orders to the 
 butcher and grocer regularly once a week. 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEIV 79 
 
 Zeph listened, but she took little or no interest 
 in hearing of the number of pounds of sugar, 
 tea, rice, soap, and sago John's wife might 
 have to send for if she made his house popular 
 with the boys and it was always full. She 
 had never cared for the details of housekeeping. 
 She constantly indulged in dreams of the beau- 
 tiful house she would one day have, where all 
 should be perfectly managed, but she never 
 looked forward to taking any active part in 
 the said management. 
 
 'Tell me about Alnminster,' said she, 
 hoping to change the subject. ' Is the society 
 good there ? Will John be in it, or is it a stiff 
 place ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Simonds assured her that John would 
 naturally be in the very best society, and that 
 when he went to the cathedral he would al- 
 ways sit in a stall specially appropriated to him, 
 and that his wife would have a special pew 
 set apart for her. And as Zeph was showing 
 some half concealed pleasure in this prospect, 
 Mrs. Simonds took courage and said, 'That's 
 
8o THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 if he has a wife, of course. Zeph, do you think 
 he will have one soon ? ' 
 
 Zeph blushed crimson, and said, ' You must 
 not ask too much, Mrs. Simonds. John said 
 something to me last night about wanting one, 
 but I said he really must wait till he came 
 back from Alnminster.' 
 
 ' My dear Zeph, what is the use of keeping 
 him unsettled until he comes back? If you 
 like him enough to accept him then, you might 
 have done it at once. He is a dear fellow, and 
 any girl might be happy with him ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Zeph warmly, ' he really is.' 
 
 ' Well, young people understand each other 
 
 best, no doubt; only why but I see it 
 
 will be all right when he comes, won't it, 
 Zeph?' 
 
 ' I don't know,' replied Zeph. ' I hope so, I 
 am sure. But I cannot give a final answer 
 until he is here.' 
 
 More could not be drawn from her. Mrs. 
 Simonds knitted, Zeph worked. Mr. Simonds, 
 who was a doctor, stole an hour from his patients 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 8i 
 
 to spend with the girl who was so soon to be 
 his daughter-in-law. He was a tall gaunt man, 
 remarkably like Carlyle in appearance, but 
 with a latent fund of kindness in his compo- 
 sition. It was dull before he came, it was 
 deadly dull after ; and at ten o'clock Zeph 
 went home, saying to heiself that John was a 
 dear fellow, but that even for his sake she could 
 not endure many such afternoons as that. 
 
 The moment she was inside the house, 
 Polly came to her on tiptoe and softly whis- 
 pered, ' There is something for you upstairs,' 
 and leading Zeph thither with much mystery 
 and many glances of fear in the direction of 
 the study, took her to the table where the 
 letter, which they had at last prevailed on 
 their mother to capture for them, was lying. 
 ' Eleven Ambassadors' Gate ! ' exclaimed Zeph, 
 in great surprise, when she saw the envelope. 
 She opened the letter and uttered a cry of 
 dismay. 
 
 ' Oh, what is it? Do tell us ! ' cried Polly 
 and Aggy in a breath. ' Don't keep us wait- 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ing. We have suffered so much about that 
 letter already ! ' 
 
 ' Eead it ! read it I ' said Zeph. ' I never 
 knew anything so horribly vexing ; no, never ! 
 And to think of the dulness I have been en- 
 during, when I might have had this ! ' Polly 
 read : — 
 
 ' Dear Miss Treherne, — I send for your 
 kind acceptance an order for a box at the 
 Levity Theatre, for to-night (Friday). It is a 
 large box and will comfortably seat four, so 
 I hope that you will be able to persuade Mrs. 
 Treherne ^nd your sisters to accompany you ; 
 and if you like to take your nice little brother 
 also, he will have no difficulty in finding a 
 place. The play is " Hamlet." I am inten- 
 tionally sending this order at the eleventh hour, 
 for I have not forgotten your words on that 
 wretchedly foggy night when I had the pleasure 
 of helping you to find your home. You then 
 said, " If any one were to tell me that I sliould 
 go to the theatre next week, I should not sleep 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW Zt, 
 
 an hour for thinking of what was coming." 
 Xow that I have stored up the order until the 
 morning of the very day when it is to be used, 
 I begin to be afraid lest I have not given 
 you sufficient time. I shall be very raucli 
 disappointed if I do not see you to-night. 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 'Godfrey Daylesford.' 
 
 ' He won't be half so much disappointed as 
 we are ! ' said Polly. Agnes looked as if she 
 were going to cry. 
 
 ' What o'clock is it ? ' exclaimed Zeph. 
 ' Would it be possible to get there in time to 
 see one act .^ I'd go, even for one act ! ' But 
 no, De Manvers Town was more than an hour's 
 drive from the ' Levity,' and it was now half- 
 past ten. 
 
 ' Besides, we are not dressed ! ' said Zeph, 
 with tears in her eyes. 
 
 'That good box!' moaned Agnes: 'just 
 think of its being wasted like that ! ' 
 
 None of tlie three sfirls had ever known 
 
84 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 the pleasant sensation of sitting in comfort in 
 a box at the theatre ; on the few occasions 
 when they had been, they had 'just sat any- 
 where.' 
 
 ' Such a thing will never happen again ! ' 
 said Zeph tearfully. 'Think what we might 
 be doing now, and what we have lost ! ' All 
 three shed tears. What cured Zeph was hear- 
 ing Polly say, ' I'd have worn my stripe.' 
 
 ' You would have done nothing of the kind ! ' 
 exclaimed Zeph. ' The order was sent to me, 
 and I shouldn't have dreamed of allowing you 
 to make such a fright of yourself! No, you 
 and Agnes would both have worn your pretty, 
 plain white muslins with the lace frills.' 
 
 Polly and Agnes were about angrily to 
 deny her right to control their choice of dress, 
 but they remembered that no dress would 
 now be wanted, and again all but wept. 
 Zeph longed to be alone. She took writing 
 materials with her to her garret. She thought 
 it would soothe her to pour out her regrets to 
 Mr. Daylesford. She hastily wrote a letter 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 8; 
 
 expressing all the vexation she felt. She 
 signed this, and then tore it in pieces. It 
 would be very undignified to send such a 
 letter as that. She wrote another — it was 
 still too full of lanaentation. Finally, she wrote 
 a stiff little note, merely thanking him for so 
 kindly trying to give her and her sisters a 
 great pleasure, and regretting that, owing to 
 her having been out at dinner, she had not 
 received his letter until late at night. The 
 pleasure of writing that she had been out at 
 dinner partly consoled her. ' It will give him 
 quite a good impression of the family if he find? 
 that we go out to dinner parties,' she thought. 
 She put this in an envelope and went to bed. 
 ' There will be no " Levity " at Alnminster,' 
 was her next thought, ' but there will be dear 
 old John, and I really do like him.' 
 
 Jack posted the letter for her early next 
 morning as he went to school, and as soon as he 
 was gone beyond recall she bethought herself of 
 the terrible mistake she had made in it. If she 
 had not received a letter delivered at one 
 
86 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 o'clock in the day because she was dining out, 
 the obvious inference was that her dinner party 
 took place at that unseemly hour. ' And I 
 meant my letter to give him such a good 
 impression of our ways,' she thought most 
 ruefully. 
 
 The eleven o'clock post, however, brought 
 lier a letter from John which made her forget 
 everything else. He would be back in London 
 about six o'clock on Monday, and would come 
 to see her at nine, or earlier still if he could 
 get away. Furthermore, he wrote, ' Aln- 
 miiister is a charming place, and the house I 
 am to have is both pretty and comfortable ; 
 but whether I shall be happy in it or not 
 depends entirely on you, dear Zeph.' 
 
 ^ How I wish he had not to take boarders ! ' 
 thought Zeph. Her ideas on the subject of 
 boarders were derived from an establishment 
 over the way, where a dismal-looking old lady, 
 assisted by two untidy servants, professed to 
 board and lodge half a dozen broken-down 
 ' gentlemen and ladies,' who might possibly at 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 87 
 
 some very far-distaiit period have seen better 
 days. This letter made Zeph feel that the 
 crisis of her life was at hand. On Monday 
 evening she would have to crive him an answer, 
 and this was Saturday. She knew she loved 
 him, but in spite of that she did not like to vow 
 away her whole life without more consideration. 
 Suppose her love were not strong enough to 
 enable her to endure the daily, nay, hourly 
 annoyances inseparable from small means? 
 She well knew how little comfort could be 
 procured for four hundred a year. Even her 
 father's income was sometimes larger than that. 
 She knew the mortifications and misery of 
 poverty so well that her heart died within her 
 at the thought that if she accepted John on 
 Monday, she would set her seal to an act which 
 would ensure her having to live always as she 
 was living now, with every desire of her heart 
 continually thwarted by want of money. ' I 
 might easily have made up my mind to marry 
 him if I had been brought up in a rich home,' 
 said she to herself. ' Eich efirls think it will 
 
88 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 be rather amusing to be poor — no poor girl can 
 ever think that ! It is a shame I should have 
 been born so poor ! ' Zeph had many a quarrel 
 with fortune. She never took up a society- 
 paper and read the praises of some well-known 
 beauty without feeling that she herself was 
 probably much more beautiful, only that other 
 girl went to balls and parties, and places where 
 she could be seen night after night ; and 
 besides that, she was always well dressed. ' I 
 might be the most magnificently beautiful wo- 
 man in the world,' thought Zeph, ' and yet, 
 living as I do, my beauty would be com- 
 pletely thrown away. Who would ever dream 
 of coming to a dingy house in De Manvers 
 Town to look for a beauty.^ Besides, beauty 
 must be set off. I never have a dress or 
 bonnet fit to wear. If people think me good- 
 looking dressed as I am, there must be some- 
 thing really good in my poor face, which even 
 the ugly ill-made things I go about in cannot 
 succeed in hiding. I wish I could make the 
 most of myself. Besides, one has to be seen. 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 89 
 
 How delightful it would have been to have 
 gone to the " Levity " and have sat in that nice 
 box last night ! ' Then her thoughts reverted 
 to the pew set apart in Alnminster Cathedral 
 for the second master's wife, and she began, 
 with much satisfaction, to picture herself sitting 
 in it a month or two hence, in a rich brown 
 velveteen costume trimmed with fur, and a 
 small hat made of the same materials. That 
 was one of the dresses she decided on having, 
 supposiog she went there ; and then she began 
 to think that there really would be a great deal 
 of pleasure in having her own way about her 
 dresses, and in knowing that John had reason 
 to be proud of his wife. She felt very un- 
 settled all day, and wandered from room to 
 room, frequently dropping down on a chair to 
 meditate on these and other things, but always 
 on something connected with John. ' I could 
 not well refuse him now,' she said to herself; 
 ' I have all but accepted him already ! Besides, 
 who wants to refuse him, dear fellow ? He 
 has been constant to me for seven years.' 
 
90 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Zeph, ray dear child, you sit far too much 
 in the house ! ' said Mrs. Treherne, who had 
 been in the study all day, but came into the 
 room where Zeph was, about six o'clock, and 
 found her looking pale and tired. 
 
 ' I suppose I do, mother ; I forgot to go out.' 
 
 ' Jack is going to take a book and a note to 
 Mr. Maxwell for your father after tea ; go with 
 him. You had much better do that. He is a 
 little boy to send so far alone, especially on a 
 Saturday night, and when he cannot go till 
 after eight.' 
 
 Mr. Maxwell lived in Kensington Square. 
 This was about a mile and a half from Lome 
 Gardens. Zeph was quite aware that if her 
 family had not been poor this note and book 
 would have been sent by post; but for once 
 she did not rail against poverty, for she felt 
 as if the air would do her good. ' I wonder 
 whether this is the last walk I shall ever take 
 as an entirely free, disengaged girl. Monday 
 evening will soon be here, and when it is over, 
 perhaps I shall have promised John to marry 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 91 
 
 him.' And then she began to plan costumes 
 which would not ruin him by costing a great 
 deal of money, but which would look well in 
 the second master's wife's pew, and make John 
 proud when he saw her from his stall. 
 
 ' Do I look nice, Jack ? ' she asked after a 
 long pause, during which her thoughts had 
 been busied thus. 
 
 ' Yes, you look all right.' 
 
 ' But am I what you would call a really 
 pretty girl ? You may say what you think — I 
 won't be cross.' 
 
 ^ But I never think about it. Yes, you are 
 pretty — at least, I think you are ; and some of 
 the big fellows at our school say you are a real 
 stunner ! ' 
 
 ' Which of them says that ? ' inquired Zeph 
 eagerly. 
 
 ' Ever so many of them have said so ; it's 
 no use bothering to remember their names.' 
 
 ' And I look pretty now ? ' asked Zeph, for 
 she recognised the hopelessness of extracting 
 further information. 
 
92 THAT OTHER PERSON ' 
 
 ' Yes, you look well enough. But why do 
 you keep asking about that ? Who is going to 
 see you ? ' 
 
 There Jack had touched a vital point of 
 complaint — Who indeed ? But Zeph recovered 
 herself quickly, for she had not been making 
 these inquiries merely for the gratification of 
 her vanity; she had been really anxious to 
 know what the boy thought, because she 
 wanted to have the satisfaction of feeling that 
 when she accepted poor dear John on Monday 
 next, he would be getting a good bargain. 
 Sydney Smith, foster-parent of all witty say- 
 ings, has defined the feeling which prompts 
 men to marry as ' an insane desire to support 
 another man's daughter.' Zeph had never 
 heard of that saying, but her own view of 
 the proceeding when the man was, like John 
 Simonds, possessed only of a moderate com- 
 petence, was precisely the same. Had she 
 been in his place, would she have married ? 
 Would she have turned what might have been 
 a peaceful, pleasant home into a miserable 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 93 
 
 scene of struggle and discomfiture ? No, a 
 thousand times no ! She would have lived a 
 cheerful bachelor's life — have taken a delight- 
 ful bachelor's holiday, and have left marriage 
 to the rich folks of the earth and to the ex- 
 tremely poor. 
 
 ' Here we are,' said Jack reproachfully, 
 ' and you have hardly said a word to me all 
 the way ! ' 
 
 ' I am so sorry, dear. Let us talk now. I 
 feel much better than I did when we came out: 
 the air has done me good.' 
 
 'That's the garden we walked round and 
 round in the fog,' said Jack, pointing to the bit 
 of ground in the centre of Kensington Square. 
 ' How we did lose our way ! and you, Zeph, 
 went farther still — you walked as far as 
 Ambassadors' Gate ! I say, when we have 
 got rid of this book, let us just go over the 
 ground we went over that night and see how 
 we got wrong.' 
 
 ' All right,' said Zeph, who always indulged 
 Jack in his fancies. They did their best to 
 
94 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 retrace their steps, though they could not be 
 quite sure that they always succeeded in doing 
 so. 
 
 ' That's the house where Mr. Daylesford 
 knocked when he wanted to find out where 
 we were,' observed Zeph when they reached 
 Number Five. 'What a splendid large house 
 it is!' 
 
 ' Mr. Daylesford's own house will be just as 
 splendid,' said Jack. ' Let us go and take a 
 look at it.' 
 
 ' What possible good will that do us ? ' 
 Zeph exclaimed snappishly. She did not like 
 people to have such good houses. 
 
 ' Don't stop, please. Come, you might do 
 what one asks you, Zeph : he only lives six 
 doors farther on.' 
 
 ' Yes, but that's a long way ! Look what 
 great wide houses they all are ! ' but she let 
 him draw her on. Zeph and Jack always 
 walked hand in hand. The dining-room of 
 Number Eleven was lighted, and the Venetian 
 blinds on one side of the bay having been 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 95 
 
 carelessly drawn down, two gaps had been 
 left through which Jack could see a large 
 portion of the room. ' Oh, my wigs,' he ex- 
 claimed, ' what a swell dinner he has had ! He 
 must have had a party ! ' The street was de- 
 serted, so Jack had mounted on the low bit of 
 stonework in which the iron rails were fixed. 
 ' Get up beside me, Zeph,' he whispered. 
 ' You will see a lot more if you do.' 
 
 She refused, but he teased her to do it, and 
 at last drew her up by the hand he held, 
 saying, ' Why shouldn't you have a look ? 
 no one, will see us — no one will ever know. 
 Do you see all those glass sugar-basins round 
 the table ^ What pretty colours they are ! ' 
 
 ' Hush ! Those are finger-glasses. Jack,' 
 said Zeph, ashamed of him. Half a dozen 
 small lamps with pink shades stood on the 
 table, and showed the two children what to 
 their inexperienced eyes seemed a vision from 
 fairy-land. The most exquisite flowers and 
 fruit were beautifully arranged in lovely china 
 dishes and bowls. The silver, to their eyes, 
 
96 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 accustomed only to the pewter-like appearance 
 of their own forks and spoons, seemed per- 
 fectly dazzling. Everything was so good, so 
 pretty, and so tastefully arranged, that Zeph 
 drew a long breath of astonishment and 
 delight. 
 
 ' Are those great goblets real gold ? ' asked 
 the boy in amazement. 
 
 ' What lovely flowers ! ' exclaimed Zeph. 
 ' Do you know, Jack, all those in the tall vases 
 are orchids.' 
 
 ' What can he want with such a lot of 
 them ? ' muttered Jack. ' People can't eat 
 flowers. Oh, look, Zeph ; look at all those 
 smaller vases or things ; they are full, quite 
 full of flowers that he would have to give at 
 least a shilling apiece for ! I have seen them 
 in the shops with tickets to say what they cost.' 
 
 ' How lovely ! How I should have liked 
 to sit down to such a dinner as that ! ' said 
 Zeph ; and then she remembered that before 
 Mr. Daylesford sat down to it he would have 
 received her letter saying that she had been 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 97 
 
 dining out. If he liad discarded the idea of 
 a one-o'clock dinner party he had, perhaps, 
 imagined her as taking part in some such 
 
 entertainment as this, whereas but she 
 
 could not endure the thought of such a con- 
 trast, and turned back to the rift in the blind 
 which showed her pleasant sights. The walls 
 were covered with water-colour drawings, 
 the 
 
 ' I say, Zeph,' exclaimed Jack, ' I had no 
 idea your Mr. Daylesford was such a swell ! 
 He called me your nice little brother in his 
 letter, didn't he ? How I wish he would just 
 come out now and give me another half-sov. ! 
 That's what I'd like ! Would you take one, 
 Zeph, if he offered one to you ? ' 
 
 But Jack's words had recalled Zeph to a 
 consciousness of what she was doing, and she 
 was so dismayed at the idea of Mr. Daylesford 
 coming, that she had already retreated. 
 
 Jack followed her and said, ' Only eight 
 people have been having their dinner there ! 
 I saw that by the way the table was laid. 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 What a lot of fuss for eight people ! By Jove, 
 Zeph, but lie would find a difference if he came 
 to dine with us ! ' 
 
 Tears rose to Zeph's eyes. ' Dine with us ! 
 No one can dine with us ! We don't dine, 
 child — we only take some food/ 
 
 ' Never mind,' said Jack ; ' I mean to work 
 very hard and get rich, and then I will have 
 you to live with me. You had better go and 
 take another look at that pretty dinner-table, 
 and then you will know how to have things set 
 out when you and I live together.' 
 
 'Dear little Jack/ said Zeph, stooping 
 down to kiss him. 
 
 ' I dare say you think that I shall never get 
 money enough for you to make things look as 
 well as that, but I really will work. And, 
 Zeph,' he added shyly, 'I am quite sure that 
 the masters think a great deal of me when I 
 do work. They all seemed to have a very 
 good opinion of my theme. I could see them 
 showing it to each other, and talking and look- 
 ing quite smiling and happy about it.' 
 
THE SECOND MASTER'S WIFE'S PEW 99 
 
 Zeph began to think that when she married 
 John it would be very nice to get him to let 
 her have Jack to live with her. He could go 
 to the Grammar School ; John would then 
 teach him himself, and the dear handsome 
 little fellow would look very well sitting beside 
 her in the second master's wife's pew. 
 
 She went home in very good spirits. Some 
 people must be richer than others. It was 
 folly to make herself miserable because her lot 
 was cast among the poor ones. She might be 
 very happy at Alnminster with John. 
 
 She walked into the family sitting-room 
 with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. Agnes came 
 quickly to meet her, holding something care- 
 fully concealed behind her back. ' Guess what 
 I have in my hand for you, Zeph. You shall 
 not have it till you do.' 
 
 ' Another letter from John Simonds ? ' said 
 Zeph, blushing very prettily, and holding out a 
 timid hand. 
 
 ' No. Guess again,' but Zeph could think 
 of nothing else ; so Agnes, who was too curious 
 
 h2 
 
loo THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 herself to wait any longer, thrust into her hand 
 another great square letter with ' Eleven Am- 
 bassadors' Gate ' running across the back of the 
 envelope. 
 
 ' Dear me,' remarked Zeph, ' he is very 
 polite ; my note did not require an answer.' 
 But when she opened the letter, another order 
 for the ' Levity ' was inside it, and she read : 
 ' I am so sorry I did not give you a little more 
 time. I have been to the office, and have 
 secured the same box for Monday evening, 
 when I hope to have the pleasure of shaking 
 hands with your whole party.' 
 
 '"Whole party" means me,' said Jack. 
 ' That's nice ; but I do wonder what makes Mr. 
 Daylesford take so much trouble to be polite 
 to us.' 
 
lOI 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A BIT OF WHITE PAPER. 
 
 Phil. — Now, by my life, tkis is unkindly done, 
 To vex me with thy sight — Philaster. 
 
 Zeph had grumbled at having the drawing- 
 room turned into a workroom, but at nine 
 o'clock on Monday morning she herself was 
 sitting there, and every chair and table was 
 covered with some article of dress. There wa^i 
 even an iron at the fire, for Polly and Aggy 
 had behaved like lambs, and made no objection 
 to wearing the white dresses Zeph had pre- 
 scribed, provided only she herself wore the 
 same. Now they were ironing out every little 
 crease in them and smoothing folds; while she, 
 without consulting her mother, had made a 
 raid on her wardrobe and captured the black 
 silk, which was the only ' smart ' dress the poor 
 
102 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 lady possessed, and was trying by means of 
 white lace and well-disposed bows of ribbon to 
 make a handsome evening dress of it. They 
 had as yet found no opportunity of telling Mrs. 
 Treherne about the theatre. 
 
 ' Suppose father won't let her go/ said 
 Polly. 
 
 •Then his heart must be more fell than 
 that of the Hyrcanian tiger ! ' exclaimed Zeph, 
 who had been reading Jack's 'Seven Cham- 
 pions of Christendom,' one of the very few 
 books in the house within the range of her 
 comprehension. 
 
 'Oh, Zeph!' said Polly, 'he could not be 
 so cruel as to say no.' 
 
 ' We will have a cab from the very door,' 
 said Zeph, holding the dress off to have a good 
 look at it ; ' no omnibuses, no wretched make- 
 shifts with a bit of walking and a bit of railway, 
 but a cab the whole way! We shall never 
 have a box at the " Levity " again, so let us 
 enjoy this to the utmost. We can pay for the 
 cab ourselves. Oh, here is mother 1 ' But as 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 103 
 
 soon as Mrs. Treherne heard what they were 
 hoping to do, she at once declared that she 
 knew her husband would not be able to spare 
 her. 
 
 ' What have you come out of the study for 
 now ? ' asked Zeph. 
 
 ' A sandwich. He is hungry.' 
 
 ' Let me take it, and I'll ask him. We 
 must know at once/ 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' said Mr. Treherne when she 
 went ; ' I cannot possibly spare your mother.' 
 
 ' Have you anything very particular for her 
 to do ? I mean anything that must be done at 
 once.' 
 
 ' No, but I like to have her at hand.' 
 
 'It would do her good to go, and poor 
 mother would like it. She never stirs from 
 this room.' 
 
 'That can surely be no great hardship, 
 Zeph. I am sure your mother would not care 
 to go. I am quite sure she would rather stay 
 quietly here.' He honestly thought that his 
 wife devoted herself to his service from intense 
 
104 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 love of the various employments he found for 
 her. 
 
 ' Dear father,' pleaded Zeph, ' will you do 
 us a very great favour ? Let us have mother 
 with us just this once, and we will not tease 
 you again ; and to make up for the loss of her 
 services, I shall be so pleased if you will tell 
 me anything I can do to help you. Is there 
 anything ? ' 
 
 ' Well, if you really have nothing else to 
 do, and would like to do it very much ' — Mr. 
 Treherne always thought his assistants had a 
 supreme rehsh for these long tasks, — ' I have 
 some terriers which I should hke copied.' 
 
 ' Father ! I cannot draw, especially dogs,' 
 said the dismayed Zeph. 
 
 He smiled a wan and weary smile, and 
 explained the meaning of the word. ' And I 
 want a good clean copy made of this bit of MS. 
 It is your poor dear mother's writing, and I 
 have had to correct it so much that I am afraid 
 the printers will not be able to make either 
 head or tail of it ! ' 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 105 
 
 Zeph quailed a little, but when slie saw the 
 number of pages and the amount of work her 
 uncomplaining mother sometimes had to do, 
 her desire to relieve her of some part of it and 
 longing to help her to one evening's relaxation 
 and pleasure became so strong that she would 
 have done anything, and she said, ' I'll take 
 great pains, father.' 
 
 ' Indeed you must. Leave ample space 
 between the lines for any corrections I may 
 have to make. Your coj)y will have to be 
 carefully collated afterwards. Stay : perhaps 
 it is too hard for a beginner. I'U give you a 
 bit of my essay on Beowulf, to transcribe. If 
 you do it well you can do the more difficult 
 bit of writing to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Then mother may go ? ' 
 
 ' You may ask her, but I don't believe you 
 will be able to persuade her. Now run away. 
 Zeph, my child, you have taken what might be 
 called a liberty in coming here.' 
 
 Zeph knew she had, and wondered at her 
 own daring ; none of Mr. Treh erne's children 
 
;io6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 had ever ventured so much before. ' Forgive 
 me,' said she, ' I know I have. Perhaps if I 
 copy your Big Wolf to your satisfaction you 
 will let me do something else.' 
 
 ' Yes,' he replied, with a smile of quiet 
 amusement ; ' but you had better look care- 
 fully at your hero's name.' 
 
 ' Victory ! ' cried Zeph on her return to the 
 drawing-room, and she brandished the bit of 
 MS. she had undertaken to copy. She began 
 to write at once, and found she got on very 
 well. This gave her courage, and she wrote 
 for some hours. Her many occupations left 
 her very little time to think of John, or to feel 
 regret at having to break her appointment 
 with him. She contrived, however, to write a 
 few lines to tell him that they would all be out 
 that evening, but that she hoped to see him 
 the following day, and, that done, she was 
 content to wait. 
 
 All the three girls looked well in their 
 quiet white dresses, and Zeph superlatively so. 
 Mrs. Treherne had pulled out an old Spanish 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 107 
 
 mantilla which had been part of her dower, 
 and this made her look quite handsome. 
 While Jack was fetching a cab, Zeph addressed 
 a solemn appeal to her sisters. ' Promise me, 
 do promise me,' said she, ' to be very quiet ; 
 and oh, Polly, if you could but force yourself 
 to say Agnes instead of Aggy, it would make 
 such a difference ! ' 
 
 Oh the joy of that evening ! Never was a 
 box better bestowed. They were all eyes, all 
 ears, all happiness. They had excellent places. 
 Zeph had a slight knowledge of the play from 
 having once read it; her sisters had not the 
 same advantacre. 
 
 ' Will that young man called Hamlet appear 
 often in this piece? ' inquired Agnes. ' I hope 
 not, I am sure, for I don't like him. He makes 
 himself disagreeable to every one ; he seems 
 to have no regulation in his mind.' 
 
 Mrs. Treherne glanced anxiously at Zeph, 
 but she had not heard this speech, for just at 
 this moment she had seen Mr. Daylesford bow- 
 ing to her from a stall immediately below. Two 
 
io8 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 or three very distinguished-looking men were 
 with him. Zeph thought he must have said 
 something about her to them, for after a short 
 pause they looked up at the box where she 
 was, and their eyes seemed to wander from 
 face to face until they saw hers. But after a 
 brief survey of the house, the stage engrossed 
 all her attention. Had she looked about more 
 she might have seen many on opera-glass turned 
 in her direction. She was certainly right in 
 one thing — she had but to be seen to be 
 admired. When the curtain had fallen after 
 the first act, Mr. Daylesford came to their box. 
 After introducing him to her mother and sisters, 
 Zeph said, ' Thank you so much for the pleasure 
 you have given us : I never was so happy in 
 my life ! ' 
 
 ' I am glad you are enjoying the play/ 
 
 ' I never enjoyed anything so much in my 
 life. It has driven everything else out of my 
 mind. Does it make you feel like that ? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid not quite.' 
 
 She looked up in his face and saw that he 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 109 
 
 was smiling, but it was a smile of kindly sym- 
 pathy. He was infinitely handsomer than she 
 had believed. He had gay laughing eyes, and 
 often smiled ; but in spite of this his manner 
 was somewhat grave and reserved, and there 
 was something about him which made Zeph 
 afraid of him. 
 
 ' Do you Hke the play ? ' he asked Agnes. 
 
 ' Yes, all but that young man called Ham- 
 let,' she replied ; ' he makes himself so dis- 
 agreeable that I cannot bring myself to like 
 him.' 
 
 ' Hush, Agnes ! ' said Polly, who saw that 
 Zeph was looking much distressed, ' don't talk 
 that way ! It's natural he should look hke 
 that. Depend upon it, he's the rightful heir.' 
 
 The tips of Zeph's ears grew crimson, and 
 she began to talk almost at random — anything 
 to silence those girls. ' Oh, everything is de- 
 lightful, perfectly dehghtful. The only thing 
 that stops me enjoying myself is thinking that 
 the time must soon come when it will be over,' 
 said she. 
 
no THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' But there are other things to see. They 
 are playing " The Eivals " now : have you seen 
 that ? ' 
 
 Zeph drew back. She was proud, and 
 afraid that she had bewailed the dulness of her 
 life so much to him that now he was chari- 
 tably trying to make it a Httle better for her. 
 ' I think I gave you too bad an idea of my 
 life,' she said, almost putting her thoughts into 
 words. ' I am happy enough.' 
 
 ' Tell me what you do all day.' 
 
 That was difficult, for she did so little. ' I 
 get up and have my breakfast — don't laugh at 
 me — I know it sounds silly.' 
 
 ' Of course not. And then ? ' 
 
 ' I mend my gloves, or do some work, or 
 perhaps read a little, and then I go out walk- 
 ing.' 
 
 ' Where do you walk ? ' 
 
 ' Near home somewhere — just in the 
 streets.' 
 ^ ' And then you go home to luncheon .^ ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER in 
 
 To dinner he ought to have said, but Zeph 
 was foolishly afraid to tell him so. 
 
 ' And after luncheon ? ' 
 
 ' I spend my time much as I spend it in the 
 morning.' 
 
 ' Do you subscribe to a library ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Do you play tennis ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Are you fond of dancing ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Daylesford, I am fond of a great 
 many things that I cannot have. My father is 
 very poor, and it is just as much as he can do 
 to make a home for us. He cannot let us have 
 expensive pleasures ! ' 
 
 Every now and then Zeph's true nature 
 asserted itself. She was naturally perfectly 
 honest and straightforward, and detested all 
 subterfuges and pretence of being other than 
 she really was, but she was so shy and unused 
 to society, and so entirely ignorant of it and 
 its ways, that she was afraid to tell people 
 the truth about her mode of life lest they 
 
112 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 should one and all turn from her in contempt. 
 Whenever her feelings were really touched she 
 was good, true, kind, and entirely honest. He 
 looked at her pityingly. To one who knows 
 life, and what sadness it has in its keeping for 
 almost every one as years wear on, there is 
 something profoundly touching in the idea of 
 any young creature not enjoying it at its very 
 outset, when the power of enjoyment is the 
 greatest. He was silent — so silent that she 
 looked at him and saw what she almost ex- 
 pected to see — his eyes bent on her in regretful 
 sympathy. 'I know what you are thinking,' 
 said she, ' and I wish you wouldn't.' 
 
 ' Wouldn't do what ? ' he asked, smiUng. 
 She could not help admiring his smile. 
 
 ' Pity me. I hate to be pitied.' 
 
 'I am not pitying you,' said he, but she 
 knew he was. 
 
 ' I was very happy to-day,' she continued, 
 being resolved to put a good face on it. 'I 
 had something given me to do which I 
 thought I should detest, but instead of that, 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 113 
 
 when once I found I could do it, I really liked 
 it.' 
 
 'What was that?' 
 
 ' I had a bit of manuscript to copy for m}- 
 father.' 
 
 ' And it was amusing ? ' 
 
 ' Amusing ! It was all about a king called 
 Beowulf By-the-bye, would you have known 
 that a terrier was not a dog? At first my 
 father wanted me to copy a terrier, or many 
 terriers, and I said I could not draw dogs ' 
 
 ' Do excuse me, but is your father the Mr. 
 Treherne ? Has he edited a number of books 
 for the Csedmon Society, and is he a great 
 genealogist ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — do you know him ? ' 
 
 'I know his name perfectly, and I have 
 seen some of his books. I have heard him 
 spoken of with the greatest respect — especially 
 as an antiquary. I have heard my tutor talk 
 of him, and my grandfather must have known 
 him, or at all events his books.' 
 
 ' Did your grandfather write too ? ' inquired 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Zeph. She had just become aware that her 
 mother and sisters had ceased to talk to each 
 other, and were now, most probably, hearing 
 every word that passed, which made her shy. 
 
 'No, he didn't write, but he knew a great 
 deal about books. He had a very valuable 
 collection of old books, and some that were 
 unique. He was much more competent to 
 appreciate your father's works than I. Your 
 father will know all about the Berkhampstead 
 Collection.' 
 
 ' I dare say he will, but I Oh, perhaps 
 
 mother will know. — Mother,' said Zeph, inter- 
 rupting a new conversation between Mrs. Tre- 
 herne and Polly — ' mother, did you ever hear 
 father speak of the Berkhampstead Collec- 
 tion?' 
 
 Mrs. Treherne's eyes flashed at once. Meek 
 woman though she was, she shared all her 
 husband's feelings. ' The Berkhampstead Col- 
 lection ! Of course I have. It has been one 
 of the greatest vexations of your poor dear 
 father's life. Only this very day he has been 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 115 
 
 lamenting to me that he cannot get access to 
 it — he has a book now going through the press, 
 and all kinds of information which would be 
 perfectly invaluable to him is shut up from 
 him by the churlishness of the Berkhampstead 
 family. The old lord, who died a few years 
 ago, was just as bad as the present head of the 
 
 house : he never would allow any one to 
 
 My dear Zeph, don't look at me in that way. 
 What I say is perfectly true ; I am only repeat- 
 ing what I have heard your father say a thou- 
 sand times. They have a large muniment 
 room — that's what he calls it — and it is 
 crammed with documents which would throw 
 
 light Zeph, I do wish you would not. 
 
 Can I be saying something wrong ? ' 
 
 Zeph's signal of distress had at length made 
 even Mrs. Treherne see that she must be mak- 
 ing some terrible mistake. 
 
 ' Mother dear,' said Zeph, who at last ven- 
 tured to speak, 'Lord Berkhampstead was, I 
 think, or is, Mr. Daylesford's father.' 
 
 Mrs. Treherne looked much shocked. Mr. 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Daylesford hastened to speak. ' He was my 
 grandfather, and I know that he was in very 
 bad odour with antiquaries ; but I beheve he 
 did not refuse them the use of his stores from 
 churhshness. It was not that — it was simply 
 that his collections were so large that he him- 
 self hardly knew what he had. He wanted to 
 have his MSS. and other things catalogued and 
 arranged before he let strangers have the run 
 of them. At one time he did employ a gentle- 
 man to do this, and the first thing this person 
 did when established in the muniment room 
 was to discover a deed or a duplicate deed which 
 showed that my grandfather and his ancestors 
 had, for I don't know how many years, omitted 
 to pay about %sq hundred a year to a school in 
 the neighbouring town. My grandfather natur- 
 ally felt obliged to pay it, so he found himself 
 a good deal poorer for this first antiquary's 
 visit, and declined to receive any more.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Mr. Daylesford : do 
 forgive me,' said Mrs. Treherne. ' I am sure I 
 should have kept them all out of my house 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 117 
 
 after that, if I had been in Lord Berkhampstead's 
 place.' 
 
 Zeph heard Agnes murmuring, ' Lord Berk- 
 hampstead ! Lord Berkhampstead ! ' in soft 
 and rapturous accents, and was glad when the 
 fourth act began and Mr. Daylesford went 
 back to his seat. 
 
 ' Oh, Zeph, did you hear ? His grandfather 
 was a lord ! ' whispered Polly. ' Think of 
 your having walked home with a lord's grand- 
 son! ' 
 
 ' What a pity you did not know it at the 
 time ! ' said Aggy. 
 
 ' Don't be so shockingly vulgar, girls,' ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Treherne, and thought she had 
 eradicated that distasteful vice. 
 
 At length the play all but came to an end. 
 ' Oh, how they do go dying one after another ! ' 
 observed Agnes. ' I don't wonder they never 
 seem to think of calling in a medical man, for 
 if they did he would not know which of them 
 to attend to first.' 
 
 'Don't make a stupid speech like that to 
 
ii8 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Mr. Daylesford if he comes back/ pleaded 
 Zeph. 
 
 ^ I shall not make any speech at all to him. 
 I hope he will keep away ! I don't like such 
 distinguished personages. I am much happier 
 with plain people like the Simondses : they 
 are more like ourselves, and much pleasanter 
 to be with than ' 
 
 Mr. Daylesford came back before Polly had 
 quite finished her speech. The sisters looked 
 anxiously in his face to see if he had heard it, 
 but he did not seem to have done so. It was 
 time to go, and Mrs. Treherne was beginning 
 to shroud her head in a white woollen hand- 
 kerchief. He said to her, ' You told me a 
 short time ago that Mr. Treherne was much 
 inconvenienced for want of an immediate sight 
 of some deeds in the Berkhampstead muniment 
 room. I shall be delighted to afford him the 
 opportunity he wants. Berkhampstead Castle, 
 of course, belongs to my brother-— I am only 
 a younger brother ; but as he is not in 
 England — you know, I dare say, that he is 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 119 
 
 Governor of the Icarian Islands— I go there 
 from time to time to look after things for him^ 
 and he allows me to consider it my home 
 when I am not in London. I think you said 
 that time was of some importance to Mr. 
 Treherne. I am going there to-morrow to 
 stay till Friday, and shall be very glad if he 
 will accompany me and stay while I am there.' 
 
 Mrs. Treherne looked more and more 
 alarmed : her husband had not been out of 
 London for years. She was voluble in her 
 thanks, but hardly thought he would be able 
 to go, i,e, could be induced to leave his 
 den. 
 
 Mr. Daylesford made her take his arm, 
 and repeated the invitation as they went to 
 the door. ' Will you tell him what I say ? 
 Will you also say that if he will go I will call 
 for him at twelve o'clock to-morrow morning ? 
 I am going to drive there for once. Ask him 
 to be punctual, as my horses won't wait, or 
 perhaps it is my coachman ; and there is 
 another thing I must ask you to say, and tha:} 
 
I20 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 is, if he kindly consents to come, I expect him 
 to bring you and Miss Treherne with him, and 
 then I shall know that he has his two best 
 assistants at hand.' 
 
 Zeph's heart stood still in astonishment and 
 delight, and then she reflected that this most 
 delightful invitation might never have been 
 given if she had not chanced to do a good 
 action that day. Her offer to do some writing 
 for her father had brought it all about. Would 
 he go ? Mrs. Treherne did not know, but was 
 sure that he would feel very much tempted. 
 Finally it was settled that Mr. Daylesford 
 should drive round by Lome Gardens, anyhow, 
 and that Mrs. Treherne and Josephine would 
 glady go if Mr. Treherne did. Mr. Daylesford 
 sent them home in his carriage, and himself 
 went in a hansom. 
 
 ' Oh, Zeph ! ' gasped Polly as she sank back 
 in the carriage and it drove off, * what a night 
 we have had! And he has actually lent us 
 this beautiful carriage! What things have 
 happened I * 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 121 
 
 ' Haven't they ! ' echoed Aggy. ' I have 
 been so happy ever since I left our house ! ' 
 
 ' And how kind he is, and thoughtful, and 
 how beautifully handsome, and how pretty that 
 foreign accent is ! ' 
 
 They had all so much to think of, and so 
 many questions of ways and means to consider, 
 that they were in their own street before they 
 thought they had gone halfway. They were 
 not only in a whirl of excitement, but in a 
 bewilderment of wonder as to how the family 
 could be made presentable enough to visit in a 
 castle, and in so short a space of time, too ! 
 All must be done before twelve o'olock next 
 morning. 
 
 'But I am certain your poor dear father 
 will not go,' said Mrs. Treherne every ten 
 minutes. Her warning only abated the tumult 
 of discussion for a few seconds, and then it 
 raged as hotly as before. How astonished 
 they were when the carriage stopped ! 
 
 ' Go and tell father at once, and get him to 
 give an answer,' said Zeph. ' We must know 
 
122 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 to-night, for we shall have to begin to pack, 
 and most likely to do some sewing. Don't let 
 father refuse : do, please, try hard to make him 
 go ; and if he says yes, and he won't let you 
 come out of the study to tell us, just push a bit 
 of white paper under the door, and then we 
 shall know.' 
 
 Jack let them into the house with a latch- 
 key, and Mrs. Treherne at once hurried to the 
 study, where she knew she should find her hus- 
 band. Polly and Agnes followed her into the 
 house. Zeph, after waiting a minute to see 
 the carriage turn and drive away, was just 
 about to follow too, when a dark figure, which 
 she had not observed, came quickly towards 
 her and said, ' At last you are here ! ' 
 
 It was John Simonds. His words were ill 
 chosen. She did not want to be there. She 
 had enjoyed her evening so much that she felt 
 sorry to lose sight of the carriage, and to feel 
 that all was over and she was consigned to her 
 home again. John Simonds ! How strange it 
 was to see him! Those happy hours, during 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 123 
 
 which she had never once thought of him, 
 seemed to have divided them by years. 
 
 ' John ! You here ! ' said she, stopping 
 suddenly short, with her foot on the first step, 
 to look at his pale tired face and bright eager 
 eyes. 
 
 ' Of course I am here ! I wanted to see 
 you for a moment, Zeph, if I could not do 
 more. You know I was to come to-night to 
 learn your answer.' 
 
 It was almost cruel of John to take her 
 so by surprise — that was what she felt. She 
 stood looking at him, full of uncertainty. 
 
 ' Well, dear Zeph, won't you speak? ' 
 
 ' Oh, don't ask me to speak now, John ; 
 how can I ? For the last five hours my head 
 has been filled with such entirely different 
 things.' 
 
 ' My dear Zeph,' said he in grave surprise, 
 ' have you not had all these days that I have 
 been away to think ? Be kind and give me an 
 answer. I am not made of stone.' 
 
 ' Don't talk that way, John, I entreat you. 
 
124 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 I must have more time. Give me one week 
 from this evening, and then I promise you most 
 faithfully to give you an answer.' 
 
 John almost reeled, the shock of this dis- 
 appointment was so great. She had all but 
 accepted him a few days before, and now she 
 spoke thus. She saw the misery in his face, 
 and it cut her to the heart. 
 
 ' Dear John,' she exclaimed, ' don't be angry 
 with me : I am behaving ill, I know ; but 
 indeed I cannot help it. I cannot quite make 
 make up my mind now ; that's all.' 
 
 'But is it really all? Be true, Zeph, at 
 any cost. Is there any one whom you like 
 better?' 
 
 ' No ; I swear there is not.' 
 
 ' Is there any one whom you are weighing 
 in the balance with me ? ' 
 
 'Most certainly not. You are the only 
 man who cares for me, and the only one I care 
 for ; there is no one whom I like half so well 
 as you.' 
 
 ' Zeph ! Zeph ! Zeph ! ' cried Jack in a low 
 
A BIT OF WHITE PAPER 125 
 
 clear voice from behind the door; and she 
 could hear him fingering the chain impatiently 
 as he spoke, and making so much noise that 
 it was a wonder he did not bring his father out. 
 
 ' Yes, I am coming. I must go/ said she. 
 ' Don't be unhappy, John, and don't think me 
 unkind.' 
 
 ' I must say this ' 
 
 'Don't say anything more now. Jack is 
 calling me, and father will hear him and come. 
 I really must go.' 
 
 In spite of Zeph's alarm, John was just 
 going to utter a very strong protest against her 
 conduct, when she darted up the steep flight of 
 steps and was gone. She felt very sorry for 
 him, but the thought that she had now a whole 
 week before her in which to decide this soon 
 made her hght-hearted again. He was a dear 
 kind fellow, and very much in love with her ; 
 he would not consider it too much to wait one 
 short week for her answer. She locked the 
 house door with more noise than was altogether 
 prudent, considering how important it was that 
 
126 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 her father should be in a good humour, but 
 she was too nervous to do it quietly. She 
 turned to go upstairs. One small lamp hung 
 on the wall and partially lighted the dark 
 brown-looking passage. As she was passing 
 the study door, with, to do her justice, her 
 mind so full of what had just taken place that 
 she had all but forgotten Mr. Daylesford's invi- 
 tation, she heard a rustling sound, and saw that 
 a long piece of white paper was being slowly 
 pushed under the door. 
 
127 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE LITTLE ^BROWN MAN. 
 
 Quoi I Lisette, est-ce vous ? 
 
 Vous, en riche toilette ! 
 Vous, avec des Mjoux ! 
 
 Vous, avec une aigrette ! — Beeangee. 
 
 If any one had told Zeph twenty-four hours 
 before that at twelve o'clock next mormug she 
 would be seated in Mr. Daylesford's carriage 
 with her father and mother and on her way to 
 Berkhampstead Castle, she would have regarded 
 the idea as incredible. Her father never went 
 anywhere ; yet he was sitting opposite to her 
 now, looking rather pale and weary, it is true, 
 and not the kind of person who ought to be 
 exposed to full daylight or the open air, but 
 very different from the recluse of Lome Gardens. 
 Mrs. Treherne looked modestly elated, and was 
 
128 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 showing mucli interest in the route they were 
 to take. Zeph gazed regretfully at the steps 
 where she had stood so recently with poor 
 John. She hoped he did not think that she 
 had been very unkind to him ; if he did, she 
 must be doubly kind some day. But all these 
 gentler thoughts were forced out of her mind in 
 an instant when the carriage drove off, and she 
 saw that it was going to pass those shops which 
 did so much to embitter her existence. Would 
 those odious winter trouserings still be lying 
 ticketed in the window.^ Would those yet 
 more odious made-up garments at ten-and-six- 
 pence a pair still be hanging in a row above it, 
 clamouring for people to give them one trial ? 
 The confectioner's shop, with Madeira cakes 
 covered with something that looked like strips 
 of wet leather, and plates laden with edibles 
 ticketed as ' little seedy biscuits,' was the first 
 that they came to, but Mr. Daylesford's head 
 was turned another way. She bent forward 
 as they came to the next shop and barred 
 him from the sight of it. That terrible danger 
 
 i 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 129 
 
 was safely overpast, and so was J. Ward's most 
 obtrusive shoe-shop. If Mr. Daylesford had 
 seen it, would he have thought she was wearing 
 ' Ward's Lady's Button Kid ' at 75. M., or the 
 'Health Boot'? 'J. Ward's Gent's Elastic 
 Sides at 7^. 6c?. are a wonder ; ' but Mr. 
 Daylesford did not see them, and in three 
 minutes more the carriage had reached a point 
 so distant from Lome Gardens that responsi- 
 bility for the neighbourhood no longer rested 
 on her. Then she remembered John. She did 
 not repent what she had said to him, but she 
 felt she might have spoken more kindly. She 
 would have been unhappy about this a great 
 part of the day if she had not resolved to write 
 to him as soon as she reached the castle. She 
 was very tired. She had sat up for hours after 
 her return from the theatre, making such pre- 
 parations for the visit that she was about to 
 pay as were in her power, and even when she 
 did go to bed she could not sleep. She felt 
 very drowsy now, and often found that she 
 had entirely lost the thread of the conversation. 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
I30 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Was that her quiet father talking so much and so 
 well? Mr. Daylesford appeared to be enjoying 
 his conversation immensely ; Mrs. Treherne was 
 sitting smiling and looking thoroughly proud 
 and happy. She did so dehght in seeing her 
 husband ' take his proper place in society.' 
 Zeph was too sleepy to know much about what 
 was being said. Sometimes she heard snatches 
 of what seemed to be most intimate conversa- 
 tion, and Mr. Daylesford seemed to be making 
 very confidential communications ; but she 
 could not rouse herself to endeavour to hear 
 more. ' That, as you know, is what the law has 
 decreed ; but I, of course, refuse to abide by it. 
 My brother can't take the title, and I won't. 
 We still look forward to some evidence turning 
 up to prove what we are already convinced of: 
 but Blackmore's death has made everything so 
 difficult ; he alone knew where the papers were 
 deposited, and he was cut off so suddenly that 
 he had not time to say a word,' said Mr. Dayles- 
 ford ; and this and her father's answer were all 
 she heard with any accuracy. 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 131 
 
 ' I entirely respect the line of conduct you 
 have adopted,' replied Mr. Treherne. ' I hope 
 and trust your devotion to your mother may 
 be rewarded.' 
 
 'What is Mr. Daylesford to be rewarded 
 for?' asked Zeph, when she and her mother 
 were alone together for a while in the inn, 
 where they had stopped to change horses and 
 have luncheon. 
 
 ' For his noble regard for his mothers good 
 name. What would be a reward to him, 
 though, would be a punishment to a baser 
 man. His earnest wish is to prove that he 
 has no right to the Berkhampstead title and 
 estates/ 
 
 'I wish you would explain a little,' said 
 Zeph. 'I thought he was only the second 
 son.' 
 
 'I will so far as I understand the story 
 myself. The late Lord Berkhampstead was a 
 very stern, unforgiving man, and he had an 
 only son, who ' but here she was inter- 
 rupted by the return of the gentlemen. 
 
132 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 They reached their journey's end just before 
 sunset. The extent of the park, the length of 
 the avenue, and the blackness of the fine old 
 trees seen against the dusky red and orange in 
 the sky were very starthng and impressive to 
 Zeph, who had never seen anything of the kind 
 before. She wondered how her father could 
 go on talking so calmly to Mr. Daylesford ; if 
 all this were his, he must be a very great 
 gentleman indeed. The castle was a remark- 
 ably handsome building — some of it was really 
 old, and the rest a modern imitation of a 
 feudal fortress. It was large and rambling, 
 and looked very gloomy in the fast-fading 
 hght. Much of it was covered with a heavy 
 growth of ivy. 
 
 The carriage stopped. A most venerable 
 old gentleman stood waiting on the steps to 
 receive them. Zeph wondered if he were the 
 bishop of the diocese. He came forward and 
 said something to Mr. Daylesford, of which she 
 heard nothing but the words ' your lordship,' 
 on which Mr. Daylesford said rather sharply, 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAh 133 
 
 ' Tompkins, I thought you understood that I 
 was never to be addressed by that title ? ' 
 Tompkins muttered some excuse, and Zeph 
 discovered that he was the butler. Other 
 servants were there, chief among whom was 
 a dignified personage who wore a great deal 
 of jewellery, and was evidently the housekeeper. 
 She at once proposed to take Zeph and her 
 mother to their rooms. They passed through 
 two magnificent halls, dark with oak panelling, 
 and decorated with pictures and armour ; then 
 they came to an old oak staircase, whose steps 
 were so easy that the ascent was positively 
 restful. .But life-sized portraits of dead-and- 
 gone Daylesfords hung on the walls by the side 
 of the stairs, and every three or four steps she 
 went Zeph found herself standing exactly on a 
 level either with a portrait of some mail-clad 
 warrior or silken-doubleted cavaher, a rigidly 
 correct-looking, long-waisted lady, or a smiling 
 and less correct-looking lady painted by Sir 
 Peter Lely. They alarmed her, they seemed 
 to be standing so close by her side, and one 
 
134 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 and all to be scornfully wondering what pos- 
 sible right that insignificant ill-dressed Httle 
 person could have to set her feet where theirs 
 had once trod. Then Mrs. Sanderson led Zeph 
 and her mother to a wide corridor with more 
 pictures and more armour, and finally to yet an- 
 other panelled with oak, and here she opened a 
 door and said to Mrs. Treherne, ' This, madam, 
 is your apartment.' It was a large room, with 
 massive furniture, and a blazing fire which just 
 served to show that it was hung with tapestry. 
 This represented some scene in a forest, with a 
 number of figures which stood out from the 
 dark background like ghosts. Mrs. Sanderson 
 lighted the candles on the dressing-table, and 
 then opened a door near the fireplace and said, 
 ' That is Mr. Treherne's dressing-room ; and 
 here, madam,' she continued, lifting up a corner 
 of the tapestry on the other side, ' you will find 
 a very pleasant little sitting-room. 
 
 ' Oh, thank you,' said Mrs. Treherne, much 
 more promptly than Zeph could have done. 
 She had been accustomed to better things in 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 135 
 
 her youth, but Zeph was simply amazed. When 
 they were cold at 5 Lome Gardens, what 
 anxious thought was always given to the ques- 
 tion whether it would be right to allow them- 
 selves the comfort of a fire or not, before they 
 yielded to their desire ! Fires were burning in 
 all three rooms here. All were huug with 
 tapestry. Zeph was glad she had not to sleep 
 in any of them. By this dim light those pale 
 ghosts on the walls looked as if they had been 
 driven there by some spell, but would much 
 rather be down in the room and at liberty. 
 She would be terrified if she were shut up all 
 night vrith such half-banished creatures. 
 
 ' Now let me show you Miss Treherne's 
 sleeping apartment,' said Mrs. Sanderson. 
 
 'It's not very far from my mother's, I 
 hope,' said Zeph fervently. 
 
 ' Oh no, ma'am,' said Mrs. Sanderson, but 
 she walked as it seemed a long way farther. 
 ' It's the size of the rooms makes it seem 
 so far. There is nothing but Mrs. Treherne's 
 bedroom and sitting-room, and one spare 
 
136 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 room, which has not been occupied for a very 
 long time, between you.' 
 
 There was no tapestry in Zeph's room, and 
 there was a most cheerful fire. An easy chair 
 was drawn near it, and a table with writing 
 materials and some railway novels. She felt 
 quite relieved ; it was a room in which she 
 could be happy. 
 
 ' I will return in twenty minutes' time, 
 ma'am,' said the housekeeper, ' and show you 
 your way to the drawing-room — unless you 
 would prefer having a cup of tea here in your 
 own room ? ' 
 
 'I'd rather go down, thank you,' said Zeph, 
 and then another servant came and offered to 
 unpack her modest trunk. 'How delicious 
 this is ! ' thought Zeph as she sat by the fire, 
 and saw the maid laying her white muslin dress 
 ready for dinner. ' Father is fond of telling a 
 story about some one who lived long, long ago, 
 and was called Eobert de Insula; how, when 
 he became a great man and a bishop, he set up 
 his mother in state and plenty too ; and how 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 137 
 
 she did not really like it, and after a while 
 entreated him to take back all the money and 
 servants with which he had burdened her, 
 for the shameful obedience of the servants 
 made her miserable ! What a fool she must 
 have been ! How I should enjoy being tried ! 
 I'd never complain of having pleasant-spoken 
 servants at hand, ready to do everything dis- 
 agreeable.' 
 
 She had rested so much during the journey 
 that now she felt no fatigue. She tripped down- 
 stairs, looking fresh and beautiful as ever. Tea 
 was ready. The moment he saw her, Mr. 
 Daylesford exclaimed — 
 
 'Eead this, Miss Treherne, and tell me 
 what answer you would like me to give.' It 
 was a note from Mrs. Vincent, a neighbour 
 of Mr. Daylesford's. She had, she said, just 
 heard of his being expected at the castle with 
 some friends, and she hoped that he and they 
 • would honour her with their presence at a 
 fancy ball on the following evening. Zeph's 
 heart sank. It would have been such a delight 
 
138 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 to go — but it was simply impossible. How 
 hard it was to have such a delicious opportunity 
 and yet be obliged to forego it ! ' Well,' said 
 Mr. Daylesford, who had been watching all the 
 variations of the poor girl's face, 'what shall 
 I say?' 
 
 'I am afraid,' said Zeph very humbly, 'that 
 you must not think of taking me. It is very 
 good of you to do so, but it is quite impossible 
 for me to go. Don't you see that people are 
 to wear fancy dress ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, are they ? ' said Mrs. Treherne. ' Then, 
 my dear Zeph, I really am afraid that you must 
 decline this pleasure.' 
 
 ' A fancy dress can very easily be found in 
 this house if you are inclined to go, Miss Tre- 
 herne,' he said cheerily. 
 
 Zeph looked up with eager, questioning, 
 but somewhat incredulous eyes. 
 
 'You must talk to Mrs. Sanderson; she 
 has twenty or thirty dresses in her charge 
 belonging to the different ladies whose portraits 
 you see. Stay: I think it would perhaps be 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 139 
 
 better still if you were to inspect the pictures 
 themselves, and then ask her for a dress as 
 nearly like that you most admire as she can 
 produce. There is a very pretty Sir Joshua 
 costume which I know she has. It was one 
 worn by my great-grandmother. After all, I 
 really believe that would suit you best.' 
 
 ' But would it be the right kind of dress ? ' 
 said Zeph, who of course knew nothing of such 
 things. 
 
 ' Why, what could you have better? Every- 
 thing she wore when she sat to Sir Joshua is 
 here, I know, and you have the portrait to 
 guide you if you have any difficulty about put- 
 ting the things on. Drink your tea, and let us 
 go and look ; only we shall have to choose a 
 dress for Mrs. Treherne too — that is, if she has 
 nothing suitable with her, and will condescend 
 to rely on the resources of the house.' 
 
 'Thank you,' said Mr. Treherne firmly, 
 ' my wife never goes out in the evening ; she 
 does not like it.' Two large tears formed in 
 Zeph's eyes. 
 
I40 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Don't,' whispered Mr. Daylesford kindly ; 
 ' I will soon find you a chaperon. Let us go 
 and look at the Sir Joshua.' 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Treherne were tired, so he 
 and Zeph went alone. 
 
 ' You are very kind to me,' she said simply. 
 
 'No, I am not. I want you to go. I want 
 you to have this pleasure, and I shall enjoy it 
 myself if you are there.' 
 
 ' But if mother is not to go ? ' 
 
 ' The clergyman here and his wife are sure 
 to be invited; I'll ask them to dine with us, 
 and we'll all go together.' 
 
 She looked at the pictures on the stairs as 
 she passed them with an air of something very 
 like apprehension. 
 
 ' Are you afraid of them ? ' he asked. 
 
 'Almost. They make me uncomfortable 
 somehow. If they were hung a little higher I 
 should not mind, but they seem to be standing 
 on the same step with me.' 
 
 ' What a timid young lady you are ! Don't 
 think of them. I want to see if Phillis Arnold's 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 141 
 
 dress strikes you as suitable.' He stopped at 
 almost the last poi'trait on tiie stairs. It was a 
 beautiful picture of a most beautiful woman. 
 She was standing by a large tree at the end of 
 a terrace looking pensively at a somewhat unin- 
 teresting sunset, but her figure was slim and 
 graceful, and her face strangely pathetic. Her 
 dress was a very pretty hght blue brocade, 
 caught crosswise on the breast, and lovely laces 
 fell from it in sympathy with the lines of her 
 figure, and were fastened on her shoulder by 
 pretty pearl ornaments. 
 
 ' Poor little PhiUis,' said he, ' she had little 
 need of ball dresses for herself. When she was 
 young and beautiful no one would visit her. 
 She was a farmer's daughter, and my great- 
 grandfather married her.' Zeph did not speak, 
 but he could see that she was interested. ' If 
 he had been Lord Berkhampstead when he 
 married her every one would have been glad to 
 welcome her, but he was only plain Mr. Dayles- 
 ford, very poor, and with no expectation 
 whatever of ever succeedino^ to the title. He 
 
142 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 lived in our market town, and not only did all 
 the great ladies of the neighbourhood stand 
 aloof — which was, perhaps, not to be wondered 
 at — ^but all the little townsmen's silly wives 
 tossed their heads too, and pretended to despise 
 her. When he very unexpectedly became 
 head of the family it was a different thing; 
 they would have come to pay their respects to 
 her here on their bended knees, but then it 
 was too late. He shut his doors to every one 
 who lived in the neighbourhood, and even 
 when his wife died, he would not let her be 
 buried where any of these people ever came. 
 They had refused to go near her when she was 
 alive, he said, and they should not have the 
 chance of doing so when she was dead. Do 
 you like that little story ? ' he inquired, seeing 
 how earnestly she was listening, and how grave 
 her eyes had grown. 
 
 ' I do. I like his being so true to her.' 
 ' I have always heard that she was a very 
 sweet creature — most sweet, indeed, and most 
 beautiful ; I think you rather resemble her. I 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 143 
 
 feel as if I should like you to wear her 
 dress.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' replied Zeph humbly. 
 
 ' Then I shall order Mrs. Sanderson to seek 
 it out immediately, and lay it and everything 
 belonging to it in your room : I have a fancy 
 to see how you look in it. I wish you would 
 wear it at dinner to-night, and then we can ail 
 criticise you, and choose another dress if this is 
 not as becoming as it ought to be.' 
 
 Zeph would never have dreamed of op- 
 posing him ; he was very kind to her, and he 
 was lord of all there. But she ventured to 
 express one doubt : ' Shall I not feel very much 
 out of place at such a large ball .^ You know, 
 j\Ir. Daylesford, how unaccustomed I am to 
 anything of the kind. Suppose the great ladies 
 at E,iver Green treat me as their grandmothers 
 and great-grandmothers treated poor Phillis 
 Arnold, if I may be allowed to call her so. I 
 shall be very miserable if they do. You had 
 better let me stay at home — I shall know no 
 one but you.' 
 
144 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' You are sure to be introduced to a lot of 
 people directly, and you must promise to dance 
 the first two dances with me. I know you 
 will enjoy yourself.' 
 
 When Zeph went to dress for dinner, Phillis 
 Arnold's braveries were all laid ready for her 
 to put on, and a very pretty maid came to help 
 her to dress. Zeph was glad of her assistance. 
 ' I am to wear this at a fancy ball to-morrow 
 night,' said she by way of explanation, 'and we 
 want to see if it is becoming.' 
 
 'It's rather a curious make of dress, ma'am,' 
 said Lydia, the maid. 
 
 ' Yes ; but you had better go and look at 
 the portrait at the head of the stairs — that of 
 the lady wearing this very dress— and then 
 you will see how it has to be put on ; and, 
 Lydia, please notice how her hair is done, for 
 mine will have to be exactly like it.' 
 
 ' It's Phillis Arnold's portrait,' said Lydia 
 with much interest when she returned, ' her 
 that was a poor girl to begin with, but became 
 Lady Berkhampstead before she died ! ' 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 145 
 
 ' You know about her, then ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' said the girl, 'we all know about 
 her. What a heathenish thing it was to bury 
 her where they did ! I don't call that a proper 
 burying myself. I don't believe people buried 
 in that way can ever he really quiet.' 
 
 ' But what do you mean ? Where did they 
 bury her ? ' said Zeph, who had not understood 
 from what Mr. Daylesford had said that there 
 had been anything specially remarkable in her 
 interment except that she had been laid to rest 
 far away from every one who had ever flouted 
 her. 
 
 ' In the garden, ma'am. You can just see 
 the place from your windows.' Lydia went to 
 one of the windows, and lifted the curtains and 
 blind; and Zeph saw four tall cypresses, and 
 between them was a low slab of stone, now 
 white as silver in the moonlight. ' They might 
 as well have given the poor ]ady a Christian 
 burial when they were about it,' said Lydia. 
 
 ' Yes, I think so,' rephed Zeph ; ' but surely 
 we ought to begin.' 
 
 A^OL. I. L 
 
146 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Not even interest in a pathetic story could 
 make her neglect the important business which 
 lay before her. 
 
 ' Perfect I ' exclaimed Daylesford when Zeph 
 entered the room. ' Absolutely perfect ! My 
 dear Miss Treherne, I shall be a proud man to- 
 morrow evening when I enter the ball-room 
 with you 1 ' 
 
 '- You look very well, dear Zeph,' said Mr, 
 Treherne : fathers do not rise to such heights 
 of approval as young stranger gentlemen. 
 
 Daylesford was sincere in his admiration. 
 Up to this time he had looked on Zeph as one 
 of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, 
 but in that dress she was matchless. Eich 
 attire enhanced her charms in a way which 
 her own poor washed muslins had no chance 
 of doing. The touch of strangeness, too, was 
 given by the old-world apparel — he could not 
 take his eyes off her. 
 
 'Will all the ladies at the ball wear as inter- 
 esting dresses as that ? ' asked Mrs. Treherne, 
 with a shght tone of longing in her voice. 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 147 
 
 Zeph detected it at once — her mother 
 wished to go. ' Father,' said she, ' do let my 
 mother go with me.' 
 
 ' Zeph ! ' rephed Mr. Treherne, ' I do wish 
 you would not tease your mother by these 
 perpetual requests. You must know how she 
 dishkes going out — you worry her.' 
 
 ' I could not leave your father ' began 
 
 Mrs. Treherne. 
 
 ' Of course not,' interrupted Mr. Treherne ; 
 and yet Zeph knew that all her mother would 
 have to do would be to hand him a pen or 
 find a page of manuscript, and perhaps not 
 even so much as that. 
 
 The evening was very pleasant, more than 
 pleasant to Zeph. Never before had she been 
 so becomingly dressed, never had she felt that 
 her beauty was a strong and firmly estabhshed 
 power. Mr. Daylesford's manner had changed 
 to her, and had become markedly deferential. 
 
 Every one was tired with the long drive 
 but herself, and a little before eleven all were 
 ready to go to bed. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Good night,' said Mr. Daylesford to Zeph. 
 ' By this time to-morrow we shall be at Eiver 
 Green. Your dress suits you to perfection ! ' 
 
 Her dress ! She had begun to feel so 
 happy and at home in the lovely blue bro- 
 cade that she had almost forgotten poor Phillis 
 Arnold and her sad little story. Now, though 
 Mrs. Treherne was talking all the way up- 
 stairs, Zeph only gave distracted answers ; 
 those words brought it back to her mind. 
 
 ' Good night, dear,' said Mrs. Treherne 
 when she reached the door of her room. 
 'Come to me if you want anything. I dare 
 say I shall not be in bed for an hour or two — 
 I never do go till your father does, and then I 
 know he cannot want anything more.' 
 
 ' Good night, mother: you look such a lady, 
 dear ! I am so glad we made you have that 
 dress.' For that very morning, before they set 
 out on the journey, the girls had insisted on 
 their mother taking a cab and going with all 
 speed to a good shop in Oxford Street, and 
 buying herself a handsome dress. Now Zeph 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 149 
 
 thought Mrs. Treherne would grace any table, 
 and she was proud of her. 
 
 She was intending to write to John before 
 she went to bed — she knew that she should 
 find writing materials in her room ; but Avhen 
 she got there she went and sat down by the 
 fire, put her feet in the strange high-heeled 
 shoes on the fender, and admired them, and the 
 colour of her silk stockings and all the splendours 
 of her apparel. ' Dress does make a differ- 
 ence ! ' she thought. ' How much nicer Mr. 
 Daylesford has grown to me ! It would be 
 delightful to know that I should always be as 
 well dressed as I am now.' She forgot to 
 write to John, or even to think of him. She 
 forgot that she had never made her mother tell 
 her about the mystery of the late Lord Berk- 
 hampstead's marriage, and why Mr. Daylesford 
 would not assume the title; she sat holding up her 
 arm and admiring her gloves and bracelets, and 
 the wondrous fineness of Phillis's laces, and the 
 sit of her dress, and thinking of the ball that was 
 coming, till a clock she had not noticed before 
 
ISO THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 told her that it was half-past twelve. So late ! 
 She must go to bed, or where would be the 
 triumph that was to be hers to-morrow ? Sud- 
 denly the thought struck her — surely it is al- 
 most treason to poor Phillis to take her pretty 
 dress to a great gay ball, when she herself 
 had never been allowed to go to one ? Zeph 
 sighed. She could not renounce her intention, 
 but she wondered if it were right to persist in 
 it. The wind had risen while she had been 
 thinking ; she heard it moaning outside ; the 
 lire was burning low. It was time to go to 
 bed. She rose wearily, turned, and for the 
 first time was alarmed by the ghostly aspect 
 of her room. There was a tall four-post bed 
 with heavy curtains ! it was as large as the 
 whole of her bedroom at home, and looked 
 as if no one had occupied it for a century. 
 There were two wardrobes, black-looking and 
 enormous. One she had seen open, and she 
 knew that it held her own slender provision 
 of garments ; but the other was still unex- 
 plored^ and the idea alarmed her ; and yet she 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 151 
 
 would not have opened k now for the worlcL 
 There was a large cheval glass, too, which 
 appalled her, it was so large, and capable of 
 
 reflecting so much. * Suppose ? ' but -she 
 
 dared not think of that. 
 
 ' What folly,' she mentally exclaimed, and 
 went to the smaller looking-giass on the dress- 
 ing-table, hoping that the sight of her own 
 face would bring her back to her ordinary 
 train of thought. It did so. She was happy 
 again. She smiled at her image; she threw 
 herself into various attitudes. She composed 
 her features to listen to her own praises, re- 
 hearsing the hoped-for triumph that awaited 
 her; but again she was chilled by a thought. 
 Suppose that glass has never reflected any face 
 since poor Pkillis Arnold saw herself in it ? 
 This room might possibly have been hers- 
 What if she were to see her shadowy reproach- 
 ful face looking over her shoulder? Suppose 
 she came to claim the dress and upbraid her 
 with the disrespect to her memory that she w^as 
 guilty of in thinking of wearing it at a ball ? 
 
152 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 A feeling she could not resist made her go to 
 the window and raise the curtain to look at 
 Phillis's last resting-place. The four cypresses 
 were swaying heavily to and fro in the wind 
 which went wailing round the castle. The 
 moon was obscured by dark clouds. While 
 Zeph was looking, a trailing branch of some 
 climbing shrub lashed against the window with 
 a sudden sharp blow, Zeph started away, and 
 hastily dropped the curtain, but the first thing 
 she saw when she turned back to the room was 
 one of the doors of the unexplored wardrobe 
 swinging slowly backwards towards her. She 
 uttered a low cry and ran to the door of the 
 room, without another glance in the direction 
 of the wardrobe, for she remembered what 
 her mother had said, and thought she would 
 go to her. She had walked about half a dozen 
 yards along the corridor, when she saw an old 
 gentleman coming towards her. He wore a 
 brown coat — that was the first thing she saw% 
 and then the hght of his candle fell more on his 
 face, and she saw that he was a pleasant- looking 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 153 
 
 man, with rather a short nose, and a black 
 shade over his left eye. A pair of gold eye- 
 glasses were hanging from a chain — they 
 caught the light as they dangled in front of 
 him. Zeph stood still for a moment. He was 
 evidently full of thought, and had not yet seen 
 her : perhaps when he did he would think her 
 mad, for the dress she was wearing was at 
 least a century old. It seemed to her that, as 
 she could not explain why she was wearing 
 it, she had better return to her room and 
 wait until he had passed by. He was now 
 close by her mother's door. She turned back, 
 but before entering her own room looked 
 round to see how far he had got. He was 
 gone ! She rubbed her eyes. Yes, he was 
 gone ! He must have turned into the spare 
 room between her room and her mother's, for 
 there was no other, and the idea that some one 
 was sleeping there made her feel much more 
 at ease. ' After all, what a goose I am to be 
 afraid ! ' she said to herself. ' It is not as if I 
 really believed in ghosts ; ' and she went back to 
 
154 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 her room, resolved \jo stay where she was, and 
 be more sensible. She boldly walked up to 
 the wardrobe which had swung open, found a 
 very commodious place for hanging dresses, 
 perfectly empty, hung up Phillis Arnold's dress 
 in it, and, with very little further strain on her 
 courage, composed herself to her slumbers. 
 
 She and Mr. Daylesford were the first to 
 appear in the breakfast-room next morning. 
 ' I hope you slept well,' said he. 
 
 ' Thank you, yes,' was her answer. ' At 
 first I^was so stupid as to be rather frightened 
 at being so far away from every one, but the 
 moment I found that little brown gentleman 
 was sleeping so near me, I felt quite happy.' 
 
 ' What little brown gentleman ? ' asked 
 Daylesford. 
 
 ' Don't y6u know your own household ? A 
 nice-looking old gentleman of about sixty-five, 
 with smooth grey hair, a shade on his left eye, 
 and rather a short nose.' 
 
 ' Go on,' said Daylesford eagerly. 
 
 * But I can't ! That is all I saw. There 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAN 155 
 
 was no time to see more except that he wore 
 a brown coat.' 
 
 After breakfast he threw a photograph book 
 in her way, and watched her turning its pages. 
 Suddenly she exclaimed, ' There is the brown 
 gentleman — would you like to see his portrait ? ' 
 and she gave him the open book. 
 
 ' You are sure ? ' 
 
 'Of course I am sure. It is exactly like 
 him ; but why does a man who only sees with 
 one eye wear a double eye-glass ? ' 
 
 'He always did,' said Daylesford in some 
 confusion. 
 
 ' Did ? ' echoed Zeph, surprised. 
 
 ' Did and does.' 
 
 ' He did not come down to breakfast.' 
 
 ' No, he is gone. He is an old friend of 
 mine — a shy, odd fellow. You must not be 
 frightened if you see him again, he just comes 
 and goes as he likes.' 
 
 ' Frightened ? Of course not ; why should 
 1 ? ' She fancied he was vexed at her having 
 happened to see this odd old friend of his, but 
 
156 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 she said no more about him. She thought no 
 more either — her head was full of other things ; 
 but soon after breakfast, when Daylesford was 
 taking Mr. Treherne to the muniment room, he 
 said — 
 
 'Don't on any account repeat what I am 
 going to say to your wife or to any one — 
 promise me that. You know what I told you 
 yesterday about our lawyer, old Mr. Black- 
 more.' 
 
 ' Yes, he was to meet you here as soon as 
 your late grandfather was buried, and was to 
 put into your hands the certificates of your 
 father's marriage with your mother, and other 
 important documents, but he died on the very 
 night of his arrival here, and you and your 
 brother had no idea where to look for the 
 papers.' 
 
 'Precisely. He was a man of sixty-five, 
 with a good, benevolent face, short nose, 
 straight grey hair, wore a shade over his left 
 eye, and usually dressed himself in rather light 
 snuffy-brown ; and last night your daughter 
 
THE LITTLE BROWN MAA 157 
 
 saw a figure exactly corresponding with this 
 description walking in the corridor between 
 her room and yours, and it disappeared sud- 
 denly before reaching her door. 
 
 ' She has seen some one rather like Mr. 
 Blackmore, and, instead of disappearing, he 
 turned into one of the rooms.' 
 
 ' There is no other room but one, which is 
 always kept locked. It is locked now, for I 
 have been to look ; besides, who was the man ? 
 There is no such person in the castle. The 
 mng where you sleep is appropriated to vi- 
 sitors. If my butler had a visitor of his own, 
 he would not put him there. The figure Miss 
 Treherne saw was exactly hke old Blackmore. 
 You must allow that this is a strange ' 
 
 ' Very, my dear sir, very : but you can 
 hardly imagine what a fever I am in to verify 
 certain statements I am about to make in print. 
 I shall know no peace until I have consulted 
 the documents themselves ! ' 
 
 ' We will go,' said Daylesford ; ' but you 
 will see the propriety of keeping all know- 
 
158 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ledge of what I have just told you from your 
 daughter. You won't say anything about it 
 either to her or to her mother ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not. It would be most unwise. 
 You may rely on me, I assure you — indeed, 
 before I have been in the muniment room five 
 minutes the whole affair will have passed from 
 my memory.' 
 
159 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS. 
 * Rich apparel hath strange rirtues ! ' — Ben Jonson. 
 
 Daylesford readily comprehended that Mr. 
 Treherne's antiquarian spirit would know no 
 rest mntil he was taken to the muniment room. 
 It opened out of the library, but of course no 
 fire was ever allowed in it, so he showed his 
 guest a writing-table, opened the great storehouse 
 of ancient documents, and bade him search 
 for such as he wanted, and bring them out 
 one by one to examine in comfort by the 
 library fire. Mr. Treherne's eyes became 
 bright and keen as he screwed up his features 
 to critical inquiry, and peered about in quest 
 of the receptacle likely to contain the papers 
 he wanted so urgently. Strong boxes of all 
 
i6o THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 sorts and shapes were piled on the crowded 
 shelves. The contents of some were marked 
 outside, but there was very little arrangement 
 to guide him. One shelf was soon dismissed 
 from consideration entirely, as containing no- 
 thing more valuable than counterpart leases ; 
 and one side of the wall was occupied by an 
 iron safe full of old charters. Suddenly he 
 exclaimed, ' I do believe I have found one 
 thing I want to get hold of ! ' 
 
 "- 1 wish you could find what I want as 
 easily,' cried Daylesford from the warm seat 
 by the fire to which he had retreated, and 
 which he altogether declined to leave. 
 
 ' What is that ? ' asked Mr. Treherne, ap- 
 pearing in the doorway ; 'oh, some paper which 
 will decide the Berkhampstead peerage ques- 
 tion .P ' he added, making a great effort to dis- 
 tract his attention from an old deed which he 
 was tenderly unrolling. Antiquaries always 
 do regard questions of disputed succession as 
 questions of purely technical interest, and as 
 if they had no personal bearing whatsoever. 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS i6i 
 
 'That is what I mean, of course,' said 
 Daylesford ; ' but there is no chance. The 
 only information Blackmore left behind him 
 — and he only left it accidentally in a letter 
 to my brother — was the assm-ance that the 
 documents which he was about to lay before 
 us were not kept in the muniment room or 
 library, and that there was no need for the 
 keys of those places/ 
 
 ' Then that is where you will probably find 
 them,' said Mr. Treherne, once more bendino- 
 over his worn bit of parchment covered with 
 fast-fading writing. 
 
 Daylesford shook his head and replied, 
 ' That is what we thought, but it's not so ; 
 every paper in both these rooms has been 
 examined, and every receptacle searched — no, 
 they are not here. I think I'll leave you,' he 
 added, for he saw that each word spoken by Mr. 
 Treherne now was wrung from him with much 
 difficulty. ' I will leave you installed here, 
 and ride over to a village a few miles away 
 to see a friend of mine. You have enough 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
i62 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 here to amuse you for the morning, haven't 
 you ? ' 
 
 'For the morning! For the rest of my 
 natural hfe ! There is only one favour which 
 I should hke to ask — would you object to 
 Mrs. Treherne sitting here beside me ? She 
 shall not enter the inner room — I promise you 
 that ; but somehow or other I cannot get on if 
 she is not with me.' 
 
 ' I'll go and invite her to join you,' repHed 
 Daylesford ; ' but before I go away, I should 
 like to tell you how I think we may perhaps 
 account for the figure seen by Miss Treherne 
 last night. If you recollect, we talked a great 
 deal on this succession subject yesterday on 
 our way from London. While we were doing 
 so, she was sometimes quite asleep and some- 
 times only half unconscious. I do not re- 
 member having described poor .old Blackmore's 
 personal appearance, but it is very likely I did, 
 and that, quite unconsciously, she heard a 
 description of him which took possession of 
 her memory, and she dreamed of him last 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS 163 
 
 night, and then fancied what she dreamed had 
 really happened. Depend upon it, that is 
 what has occurred.' 
 
 'Probably,' replied Mr. Treherne, with 
 complete indifference, and Daylesford had not 
 the heart to try to wring another word from 
 him. 
 
 Mrs. Treherne took her knitting and sat 
 down by her husband's side, wondering princi- 
 pally at the goodness of the coals and the large- 
 ness of the fire ; and he was so absorbed in 
 the laborious perusal of some of the treasures ho 
 discovered that he forgot to feel annoyed by 
 the click of her knitting-needles — nay, almost 
 forgot that she was there. Daylesford went to 
 see his friend. Zeph's morning was to be 
 spent in going over the castle with the house- 
 keeper. Again Zeph was startled. She had, as 
 she thought, been hving in splendid dining and 
 drawing rooms — she now learned that these 
 were merely small rooms which were only 
 used when any of the family came in a quiet 
 way, and that there were suites of drawiug- 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 rooms, music-rooms, and picture galleries, all 
 iuore magnificent than any she had so much as 
 dreamed of. The housekeeper was eminently 
 historical, and poured out volumes of learning, 
 never making a mistake of more than a century 
 and a half in her dates. Shoemakers' children 
 are never supposed to be very well protected 
 from wet feet, and Zeph detected no inaccu- 
 racy. 
 
 'And do you never use these beautiful 
 rooms ? ' said she. 
 
 ' Never, ma'am. If only the succession 
 were arranged to every one's satisfaction, we 
 might live in the same style we used to do, but, 
 as it is, we only occupy a corner of the castle, 
 and we never entertain.' 
 
 Zeph was rather lonely that day. After 
 luncheon she strolled about the garden, and after 
 some hesitation crept timidly up to PhiUis 
 Arnold's grave. It lay in the centre of a large 
 square piece of close-shaven lawn, and was 
 covered with a low grey stone embroidered 
 over with golden lichen. On one side she 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS 165 
 
 read, ' Marmaduke, fourth Earl of Berkliamp- 
 stead ; ' and on the other, ' And PhilHs, his 
 dearly beloved wife, lie buried here.' So that 
 from the very first he had determined to sleep 
 his last long sleep by her side. Zeph's heart 
 was deeply stirred — she would have liked to 
 kneel down and say a prayer, but was afraid 
 of being seen from some of the many windows 
 of the house. She wandered about the gardens 
 in search of any flowers which might let them- 
 selves be found. The gardeners offered her 
 some from the greenhouses, but she wanted 
 garden flowers for Phillis, and to gather them 
 with her own hands. At last she found a 
 great bed of Christmas roses, and with some 
 small-leaved Portugal laurels, and the greenish- 
 white stars of the flowers, made a wreath, shy, 
 fair, and delicate as her idea of Phillis herself, 
 and laid it reverently on the cold grey stone. 
 'I hope she knows that he insisted on being 
 buried by her,' thought Zeph as she left the 
 grass, each blade of which was crisp with frosty 
 pencillings, and returned to the gravel paths. 
 
1 66 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 The castle was so large, it awed her — she 
 wanted to get far away from it, and walked on 
 farther and farther, until at length she came 
 to a small door, which she unbolted, and at 
 once found herself in a quiet country church- 
 yard. The church was older than any she 
 had ever seen. It was worn and grey and full 
 of cracks. It had sunk a little here, and fallen 
 out of the perpendicular there, and appeared 
 to be mainly kept in its place by great strong 
 branches of ivy, which held it in a grasp it had 
 taken centuries to rivet, and nothing could 
 undo. A venerable old porch attracted her, 
 and she went to it and sat down on one of the 
 stone benches inside. From thence she looked 
 out on the tombstones, and began to read the 
 epitaphs on some of the nearest. The first she 
 saw was this : — 
 
 ' Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee, 
 And now am careless what thou say'st of me. 
 Thy smiles I covet not, nor thy frowns I fear, 
 My days are past, my head lies quiet here.' 
 
 And the next was, ' Sacred to the memory of 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS 167 
 
 Mr. Eobert Blackmore, of Gray's Inn, London ; 
 who departed this Ufe very suddenly, at Berk- 
 hampstead Castle, on Tuesday, February 7, 
 18 — .' ' February the seventh,' thought Zeph, 
 ' and this is the eighth. Then he died exactly 
 four years ago yesterday. Blackmore ? Black- 
 more ? I can't think where I have heard that 
 name. I am sure I have heard it somewhere 
 lately.' 
 
 She could not remember; impressions of 
 all kinds crowded on her so quickly just then 
 that one drove the other out of her mind. 
 This quiet old churchyard soothed Zeph. She 
 had been overwhelmed by the Berkhampstead 
 grandeur, and began to feel that she did not 
 like it. This little worn old church, where all 
 was left very much as it had been when first 
 built, was restful and pleasant. The great 
 rooms she had seen that morning were dazzlins^ 
 in size and colour, but far too splendid to be 
 homelike. Perhaps Alnminster would be an 
 old-world place like this. Why had she not 
 written to John last night ? It was well that 
 
i68 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 she had seen those great unrestful gilded 
 rooms, with their slippery floors and barren 
 splendours. She knew it was well. She had 
 felt more satisfaction in the plain grey stone 
 which marked the graves of Marmaduke, fourth 
 Earl, and PhiUis his dearly loved wife, than in 
 any of the wonderful things in the castle. 
 They had loved each other — there was nothing 
 worth having in this world but the love of 
 some one very dear. She would write to John 
 as soon as she went in — how could she have 
 let herself be so dazzled by the sight of un- 
 wonted luxury and magnificence as to neglect 
 the all-important things of life.^ She sat in 
 the quiet porch till the light began to wane, 
 and left it a better woman than she had been 
 before. 
 
 But how long would her goodness last? 
 She walked round the churchyard before re- 
 turning to the grounds, and found that one of 
 its low boundary walls shut off the high road. 
 She heard the sound of a horse's feet, and soon 
 saw Mr. Daylesford riding quickly towards her. 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS 169 
 
 ' In the churchyard ? ' said he. 
 
 ' Yes, I don't generally like churchyards — 
 how could I, in London ? — but I think this is 
 charming ; I am quite sorry to leave it.' 
 
 'Tell me what you have been thinking 
 about,' said he. 
 
 'I cannot tell you quite everything,' she 
 answered, blushing slightly, 'but I will tell 
 you as much as I can. I suppose it is wearing 
 your poor ancestress's dress that made me do 
 it, but I have been thinking a great deal of 
 her.' 
 
 He smiled kindly. 
 
 ' I wonder whether she ever came and sat 
 in the porch where I have been sitting, and 
 wished herself poor again .^ ' 
 
 ' Poor without her husband, or poor with 
 him?' 
 
 ' Certainly not without him. No, poor 
 with him.' 
 
 'But why? he loved her no better when 
 they were poor than when they were rich.' 
 
 'I suppose not,' said Zeph, with a sigh, 
 
I70 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' and yet they' must have been more to each 
 other. I don't think I hke riches, Mr. Dayles- 
 ford.' 
 
 'I don't know much about them,' he re- 
 pHed. ' I have no experience of them.' 
 
 ' What would he have ? ' thought Zeph. 
 
 ' Take my horse to the stable,' said he to a 
 man who came up. ' I think I shall walk 
 home through the grounds.' 
 
 As they passed the tombstone to Mr. Black- 
 more, Zeph said, ' I do so want to know why 
 I look at that as if I had heard the name of 
 Blackmore before. Have I ever heard it ? ' 
 
 'Probably,' he replied, with studied indif- 
 ference. He was very much afraid of alarming 
 her. 
 
 'Do you see that that poor Mr. Eobert 
 Blackmore, whoever he was, died exactly four 
 years ago yesterday ? ' 
 
 'Not really?' he exclaimed, with sudden 
 interest and surprise. 'After all, why shouldn't 
 he ? ' and he walked on to the door into the 
 grounds, talking pleasantly all the way. ' It is 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS 171 
 
 to be a very good ball, I hear,' said he ; ' every 
 one is talking of it. I have carefully concealed 
 from every one what a surprise is in store for 
 them. I have been thinking a great deal 
 about your dress, and I declare you might 
 have stepped out of Sir Joshua's picture I ' 
 
 As soon as they entered the house, Zeph 
 turned towards the stairs — she wanted to write 
 her letter. 
 
 ' Don't go away,' he pleaded. ' I detest 
 this dull time between the lights. I wish there 
 was something to do. I generally do find it 
 dull in the country till I get into the full swing 
 of the life. How shall we amuse ourselves till 
 it is time to dress ? I wonder where Mr. and 
 Mrs. Treherne are, and what they have been 
 doing ? ' 
 
 ' They are where you left them this morn- 
 ing : I can answer for their never having stirred 
 from the library.' 
 
 ' Not to luncheon ? ' 
 
 'Mother came and ate a little, and cut a 
 sandwich for father. He did not come ; he 
 
172 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 never does. I never see either of them at 
 home.' 
 
 ' But are you not dull sometimes ? ' 
 ' I am always dull. I am penetrated with 
 dulness. I am simply bored to death from 
 morning to night.' 
 
 ' Then you must not go through the same 
 sort of thing here. I won't allow it. I must 
 see to it myself. But what can we do now ? 
 I do believe we shall have to fall back on 
 throwing cards into a hat.' So saying, he put 
 his hat on the floor, and for quite an hour 
 they stood at about ten feet distance from it, 
 doing their very utmost to dart the fluttering 
 bits of pasteboard into it. It sounds so easy, 
 and is so difficult. Each in turn threw the 
 whole pack, and sometimes only succeeded in 
 sending in two or three cards. Gradually, 
 however, Zeph got the range, and began to 
 throw with much more precision. He was 
 more impatient, and keenly resented the way in 
 which the cards, after going three parts of the 
 distance towards the goal, suddenly showed 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS ly^ 
 
 signs of being possessed of distinct ill-will, and 
 either dropped to the ground unaccountably, 
 or quivered away in an entirely opposite direc- 
 tion. What he did enjoy was seeing Zeph 
 playing : her figure, as she stood bending for- 
 ward poised on one foot, was so infinitely 
 graceful. Her attention was wholly given to 
 the game, and, though she was duly pohte and 
 interested in all he said, it was perfectly evident 
 that she neither observed his admiration nor 
 tried to win it. It was odd — rarely had he 
 paid any one more attention than he was paying 
 this little girl by his side now, and never had 
 his attentions been received with so much 
 indifference I Was she shy ? Was she so 
 impressed by his superiority in worldly advan- 
 tages to herself that she never so much as 
 thought of him as a possible admirer? Was 
 she engaged ? He was puzzled. The only 
 thing he was sure of was that she looked like 
 a queen ; and though she began to be tired, he 
 again and again urged her to play one match 
 more, just for the pleasure of watching her 
 
174 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 singularly graceful movements. Tea came, but 
 he would not let her stop. ' You can drink it 
 while I am having my tiirn,' said he. 
 
 'Twenty in,' she exclaimed at last, 'and 
 now I can play no more. I am really tired.' 
 
 ' I wish I looked like that when I am tired,' 
 said he ; for her cheeks were bright with colour, 
 and her eyes sparkled with light. ' Good 
 heavens ! ' he exclaimed suddenly, ' do you 
 know what time it is ? I hope you don't take 
 very long to dress, for it is rather a long drive 
 to Eiver Green, so we are dining earlier.' 
 
 ' Not take long to dress when I am going to 
 my first ball ! ' said she, smiling. ' Why, it's 
 ever so much after six, and we are to dine at 
 half-past seven.' 
 
 Even then he tried to keep her a little 
 longer while slowly lighting a candle, but at 
 last she went upstairs, and he to the hbrary, 
 where he found Mr. and Mrs. Treherne still 
 quietly sitting, and looking as if they belonged 
 to an entirely different world. He was alto- 
 gether absorbed in the perusal of the document 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS 175 
 
 before him. She seemed to be shghtly weary. 
 She was evidently rather afraid to speak to Mr. 
 Daylesford lest her husband should be cross at 
 the sound of her voice, and was thus uncom- 
 fortably divided between her duty to him and 
 that of being polite to her kind host. 
 
 ' Mss Treherne has gone to dress for the 
 ball,' said Daylesford in his usual voice. He 
 could not imagine why the worthy antiquary 
 should object to a httle conversation now and 
 then by way of relaxation, and was sure that 
 he had done quite enough work for one day. 
 
 ' What ball ? I don't understand,' asked 
 Mr. Treherne in great surprise. 
 
 ' You have forgotten, dear,' said his wife. 
 ' Don't you remember the delightful fancy ball 
 that Mr. Daylesford is kind enough to take her 
 to?' 
 
 ' I remember something about it,' said he 
 vaguely, 'but, my dear, you are not going — 
 Zeph cannot possibly go alone ! I am most 
 particular, my dear sir, about my daughter 
 always having a suitable chaperon ! ' and he 
 
176 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 fixed his mild eyes earnestly on Daylesford. 
 Mrs. Trelierne hastened to set her husband's 
 mind at rest, while Daylesford indulged in 
 some not incurious reflections. Here were 
 this worthy bookworm and his faithful book- 
 wormess absolutely insisting on a chaperon for 
 their daughter when, being surrounded by 
 scores of her fellow- creatures, she least needed 
 one, and yet they left her for hours together, . 
 perfectly alone with him. 
 
 A long silence ensued. How could it be 
 otherwise ? Mrs. Treherne's awe of her hus- 
 band was infectious. ' Come, my dear friend/ 
 said Daylesford at length, ' I must tear you 
 away. You really have worked quite enough 
 for one day.' 
 
 Mr. Treherne looked up, not believing his 
 ears. 
 
 'It is time to dress for dinner,' insisted 
 Daylesford. ' We had better put those deeds 
 back into the safe and lock the door for the 
 night.' 
 
 Slowly Mr. Treherne began to comprehend 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS ij-j 
 
 that he was not in Lome Gardens. He rose 
 rekictantly and folded up the sheets of parch- 
 ment, sighing heavily the while. 
 
 'Would you very much object to my 
 returning to the library for an hour or two in 
 the evening ? ' said he at last. ' I generally do 
 work till midnight, and you will be out, and it 
 would be such a break in my habits if I did 
 not.' 
 
 ' You shall do what you hke in the evening, 
 and now too, only I must remind you that we 
 dine in considerably less than an hour. I am 
 going to dress now, and if when you next see 
 me I look rather like Sir Philip Sidney, so much 
 the better.' 
 
 Zeph had quite forgotten that the rector 
 and his wife would both have to wear fancy 
 dress, so when she went into the drawing-room 
 an hour later she was startled to see a rie^id- 
 looking minister of the Scotch Church standing 
 by a trim- looking young woman in a tartan 
 bodice, short blue petticoat, and grey worsted 
 stockings. ' Let me introduce you to good Mr. 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Eeuben Butler and Kiss Jeanie Deans. I think 
 Mrs. Scatcherd's costume a great success ! ' said 
 Daylesford, whose own dress suited him to 
 perfection. 
 
 ' Do I look as nice as dear Mr. Daylesford 
 seems to think ? ' inquired Mrs. Scatcherd after 
 dinner, when she and Zeph were preparing to go. 
 
 ' You look most charming ! Your dress 
 suits you exactly.' 
 
 ' You dear kind girl, to say so ! Shall I 
 tell you what he says of you ? He told me that 
 you w^ere " without exception the most bewitch- 
 ingly beautiful girl he had ever met ! " There, 
 Miss Treherne, what do you think of that? 
 Why, surely there is nothing to give you 
 pain ! ' 
 
 Two large tears had risen to Zeph's eyes. 
 So far from being elated by what sl^e had just 
 heard, . her first thought was, ' How hard to 
 have gifts which, living out of the world as I 
 do, are absolutely useless to me ! ' She had 
 never expected such praise, and did not know 
 how to take it when she had it. 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS ijc) 
 
 ' You are beautiful, dear ; if I had been 
 a hundredth part as beautiful, I should have 
 been the happiest girl in the world, and the 
 chances are you would not have seen me here 
 now.' 
 
 ' Why not ? ' asked Zeph, with no idea of 
 her meaning. 
 
 ' In a httle country rectory ? No, indeed ! 
 But it can't be helped, and, after all, I am 
 very happy. Well, you look thoroughly be- 
 witching, and I am certain you will have a 
 great success ! There will be an awful crowd, 
 though.' 
 
 There was a crowd, and such a crowd as 
 Zeph had never so much as dreamed of. An 
 Undine was running about with Queen Eliza- 
 beth and George I. Bloody Mary was arm in 
 arm with John Knox. Two Moonlights had 
 struck up an acquaintance with a Symphony in 
 blue and silver, which was gliding about with 
 a bar or two of music embroidered on its blue 
 skirts, and a profusion of bangles. Henry VIII. 
 might have promenaded at the head of his six 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 wives, for each of them found a representative 
 at Eiver Green ; but somehow or other he 
 seemed to prefer Joan of Arc, who was a pretty 
 fair-haired girl ; while Lady Jane Grey danced 
 a great deal more than she ought with the 
 Prince Eegent. Zeph was shy ; every one was 
 strange to her ; and there was such a glare of 
 light, such a blaze of jewels, such a confusion 
 of tongues, and such a bewildering variety of 
 costumes, that she shrank from entering the 
 ball-room. 
 
 'You will feel quite at home after you 
 have danced once round the room,' whispered 
 Daylesford encouragingly ; ' and this is my 
 dance, so do come.' 
 
 Still Zeph hung back and tried to delay. 
 
 'Don't be foolish, dear,' whispered Mrs. 
 Scatcherd. ' You have no idea how every girl 
 in the room is envying you your partner.' 
 
 That might be true, but it was equally true 
 that many a man was envying Daylesford his. 
 ' Who is that wonderfully beautiful creature in 
 the Sir Joshua dress ? ' was asked repeatedly, 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS i8i 
 
 and all the men were trying to obtain an in 
 troduction to Zeph. Daylesford danced his two 
 dances with her, and then began to make her 
 promise him some more ; but the difficulty was 
 to find any left disengaged, and others were 
 waiting to hear the result of his inspection of 
 her programme. ' Are you enjoying it now ? ' 
 he asked, with a smile ; and when she said yes, 
 he assured her in a low voice that she could 
 not possibly be enjoying it so much as he was. 
 
 ' But you are so much more used to such 
 things,' she replied. 
 
 He looked at her in amazement. Was this 
 unconsciousness or practised coquetry? 
 
 ' Do you know the romantic story about 
 that young man you have been dancing with 
 so often? — your host I mean,' asked Mrs. 
 Scatcherd when Zeph at last returned to sit 
 beside her for a while. 
 
 ' No,' she replied ; ' I have heard a word or 
 two of it — that's all.' 
 
 *Then I'll tell it to you. Don't for a 
 moment imagine that I am betraying any con- 
 
1 82 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 fidence. Every one in the room knows it, every 
 v^oman is deeply interested in it, and almost 
 every man has betted on its issue ; besides, if 
 you hke Mr. Daylesford now, you will like him 
 twice as much when you have heard all. 
 Every one likes Mr. Daylesford; he is charming; 
 but you must let me get on with my story.' 
 
 Zeph had not spoken or moved, and was 
 innocent of any attempt to interrupt her. 
 
 ' Before I begin,' said Mrs. Scatcherd, ' you 
 might just tell me if my dress looks well among 
 the others. Stay, keep my seat for me, or it 
 will be seized in a moment, and I will walk 
 past you just in front. What I particularly 
 want to know is if my petticoat is too short ; 
 it feels very short ; ' and the little lady got up 
 and paraded twice backwards and forwards 
 before Zeph with an air of innocent expecta- 
 tion on her face. 
 
 ' You look very nice and very pretty, but 
 your petticoat ' 
 
 ' Oh, if I look nice and pretty, I won't 
 bother myself about the length of my petticoat,' 
 
PHILLIS ARNOLD'S DRESS 183 
 
 said she, and sat down. ' Now for our story. 
 I will begin at the very beginning. Old Lord 
 Berkhampstead's son, Mr. Daylesford, this Mr. 
 Daylesford's father, was an ill-tempered, per- 
 verse, and rather agreeable old gentleman, and 
 early in life he married ' 
 
 ' This is our dance, I believe. Miss Treherne,' 
 said an Arab Sheik to whom Zeph had been 
 introduced by Mrs. Vincent. 
 
 ' You will find me here when your dance is 
 over ; my dear husband, Eeuben Butler, does 
 not approve of a minister's wife dancing, so I 
 have to sit out,' said Mrs. Scatcherd, with a 
 smile ; but Zeph was claimed so quickly by one 
 partner after another that she did not get 
 back for more than an hour. 
 
 ' You look fresher even than when you first 
 entered the room ! ' said Daylesford, who was 
 talking to Mrs. Scatcherd when Zeph went 
 back to her. 
 
 ' I am so happy — so ridiculously happy — 
 that's why ! Don't laugh at me ; it is my first 
 ball, and perhaps my last 1' 
 
1 84 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' How can it possibly be your last ? No ; 
 you have many a pleasant ball before you.' 
 
 ' I should like to go to one every night of 
 my life ! ' said Zeph fervently. 
 
 ' Then you must not marry a severe gentle- 
 man like my dearly beloved Eeuben. There 
 will be no more dancing for you, Miss Treherne, 
 if ever you are so foolish as to do that ! ' 
 
 Zeph's thoughts flew to John. John was a 
 clergyman too. Were all clergymen severe ? 
 Would John be severe ? 
 
 ' Oh, don't look so dreadfully serious,' ex- 
 claimed Daylesford. ' Suppose you dance this 
 with me.' 
 
i85 
 
 CHAPTEE VIIL 
 
 OLD SCATCH. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? Keep the peace hei*e ! ' 
 
 King Henry IV. 
 
 ' Come and see me the first thing to-morrow 
 morning,' had been Mrs. Scatcherd's last words 
 to Zeph, so at twelve o'clock she went through 
 the grounds to the little door she already 
 knew, and soon found the rectory, which was 
 very near the church. It was a long, low, 
 picturesque-looking house, covered with roses 
 and honeysuckles, and it stood in a large piece 
 of ground which in due season would be a 
 beautiful garden. Mrs. Scatcherd was sitting 
 in a room on the ground-floor with windows 
 opening on the lawn, and prettily encircled by 
 waving garlands of green ivy leaves. She had 
 
1 86 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 a large pile of socks before her — socks of all 
 colours — and she was darning them with all 
 her might. 
 
 * Saturday is my sock morning,' said she ; 
 ' but there were so many last week, I did not 
 get them finished, and I am afraid I have 
 neglected them for my ball dress ; do excuse me 
 for letting you see such work. I ought to hire 
 a woman to darn them, but it's so much more 
 economical to do it myself.' 
 
 ' They are surely not your husband's ? ' said 
 Zeph, for there were at least two dozen pairs. 
 
 ' My husband's ! blessed man, he knows his 
 duties better ! Didn't you know that my dear 
 John took pupils? He has eight now, but 
 twelve is the number we should like to have.' 
 
 ' How strange ! ' said Zeph involuntarily. 
 She was so astonished that any one else should 
 have a dear John who took pupils. 
 
 ' Not so strange as you think,' replied Mrs. 
 Scatcherd, who of course could not understand 
 her exclamation. ' My dear Miss Treherne, 
 when people earn their living in a very dis- 
 
OLD SCATCH 187 
 
 agreeable, uncomfortable way, they naturally 
 want to make themselves independent as quickly 
 as they can ; and the more pupils we have, the 
 better for us.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied Zeph ; ' but is it so very 
 disagreeable and uncomfortable to have them ? ' 
 
 ' You have no idea what it is ! They are 
 always either killing — I mean hurting — them- 
 selves or one of the others ; and as for breaking 
 things, I wonder I have anything left ; but let 
 us talk about the ball.' 
 
 ' I came to thank you for taking me to it, 
 and for all your kindness.' 
 
 ' Don't thank me, for I did so enjoy going 
 with you. It was a great pleasure to me. I 
 think we all enjoyed it ; I am sure Mr. Dayles- 
 ford did. What a number of times you danced 
 with him ! By-the-bye, hadn't I better teU you 
 that story now ? I could not get on at all with 
 it last night. Can you tell me where I left 
 off?' 
 
 ' Old Lord Berkhampstead's son, Mr. Dayles- 
 ford, father of our Mr. Daylesford, was an 
 
1 88 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ill-tempered, perverse, and rather agreeable 
 
 gentleman, and early in life he married ' 
 
 repeated Zeph, with a smile. 
 
 ' Oh yes, and it is all quite true, though it 
 sounds so odd — and early in life he married a 
 very pretty English girl he met somewhere 
 abroad, and ' 
 
 'Please, ma'am,' said a servant, who sud- 
 denly opened the door with a great deal more 
 noise than was necessary, ' Master Hobhouse 
 has taken down the clothes-lines, and doubled 
 them up and made a swing of them.' 
 
 ' The clothes-lines ought to have been taken 
 down before, and brought in. Try to make 
 him give them back, but if he won't let you 
 have them quietly, just let him swing awhile, 
 and get them when he is at dinner.' 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am, if he doesn't hide them ; and 
 if you please, ma'am. Master Lawrence is 
 stamping about on the kitchen roof, and cook 
 is expecting to see one of his legs come through 
 the ceiling every minute.' 
 
 ' Jane, I really am busy ; I am engaged ; I 
 
OLD S CATCH 189 
 
 cannot attend to Master Lawrence's leg. Tell 
 your master.' 
 
 'Master's not there. He set off to the 
 dentist with the two Master Pearsons as soon 
 as ever twelve o'clock had struck.' 
 
 ' Where is Mr. Andrews ? Tell hin\.' 
 ' No one seems to know where he is.' 
 'Well, I really cannot help it. I hope 
 nothing bad will happen. Go and do the best 
 you can about everything.' 
 
 ' It is simply dreadful when Dr. Scatcherd's 
 back is turned ! ' said Mrs. Scatcherd apologe- 
 tically, when she thought that Jane had gone; 
 'how I wish the boys were always working! 
 There is always some silly craze in this world, 
 and now people do nothing but talk about 
 over- pressure. Over>pressure, indeed ! If boys 
 were not a good deal pressed there w^ould not 
 be one left alive ! Oh, are you still there, 
 Jane? I really cannot come. Don't you see 
 that I have a friend with me .^ Get cook to 
 speak to Master Lawrence.' 
 
 ' Cook won't have anything to say to him, 
 
I90 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ma'am. He has been that rude to her in his 
 observations about the pudding yesterday that 
 she says she won't stay.' 
 
 ' Dear me, how vexing it is to have such a 
 naughty boy to struggle with ! and if I go my- 
 self he will only pretend to obey me,' said Mrs. 
 Scatcherd, reluctantly putting down her sock 
 and rising slowly. ' Oh, Jane, he is there,' she 
 added in great delight ; ' Master Lawrence is 
 there, running across the lawn, so he has come 
 down of his own accord.' 
 
 Jane retreated, and Mrs. Scatcherd sighed 
 and said, ' Where was I, dear ? ' 
 
 ' He married a very pretty Enghsh girl he 
 met abroad somewhere, and — lived in out-of- 
 the-way places on the Continent with her for 
 some years, never daring to let his father know 
 that he was married, or where he was, or any- 
 thing about him. The girl's name was Murray 
 — -Miss Janet Murray. I do not know anything 
 about her except that she was beautiful, but I 
 am bound to tell you that many people still 
 maintain that no marriage ever took place. 
 
OLD SCATCH 191 
 
 However, they had two sons, both born in a 
 small village in Austria. In a year or two Mr, 
 Daylesford either tired of his wife or quarrelled 
 with her, for he left her, and after a while, 
 having heard that his elder brother was dead, 
 and that his aged father was most anxious to 
 find his other son and to prevail on him to re- 
 nounce his roving life and return home, he did 
 return, and spent a few years at the castle here 
 with the poor old Earl. This marriage having 
 been kept a profound secret — I don't know 
 why it was kept so secret, but I believe it was 
 the kind of thing the old man would never have 
 forgiven — great pressure was put on Mr. Dayles- 
 ford to make him marry some lady here. He 
 was not bad enough for that, however, and if 
 he had but been on good terms with his wife he 
 might perhaps have confessed what he had done ; 
 but he was not, and had no desire to be forgiven. 
 You see, if Mr. Daylesford's father had forgiven 
 him, he himself would have had to forgive 
 his wife or ask for her forgiveness, as the case 
 might be, bring her home to the castle, and 
 
192 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 live very happily with her ever afterwards ; and 
 that was exactly what he did not want to do. 
 I told you he was a very odd, perverse man. 
 He made her a handsome allowance, but never 
 showed any desire to see her. In the mean- 
 time the boys were growing older, and as his 
 wife could no longer educate them herself, she 
 went to Geneva, where she had some friends, 
 and engaged a daily tutor ; and when her 
 husband at last went there to see her, he chose 
 to be jealous of this tutor, quarrelled with his 
 wife more violently than ever, drove the tutor 
 out of the house, and resolved to carry the boys 
 back to England with him, and, whatever it 
 might cost, tell his father all. Unfortunately 
 he stayed a day or two in Paris on the journey, 
 and while there, the little fellows, who were 
 devoted to their mother and disliked him, 
 escaped from the hotel and made their way 
 back to Geneva. He was so furiously angry at 
 this that he swore he would never see either 
 of them again. He stayed a day or two in 
 London to arrange matters with his solicitor, 
 
OLD SCATCH 193 
 
 confided the whole story to him, directed him 
 to go to her and tell her by word of mouth 
 that though after what had occurred he would 
 never either forgive her or see her again, and 
 most assuredly not pain his dear father by own- 
 ing the foolish marriage he had made, yet if 
 she would continue to go by her maiden name 
 of Murray — a name by which he and she had 
 both been known while living abroad — and 
 would solemnly undertake never to make her 
 marriage public during his father's lifetime, he 
 on his part would engage to do certain things 
 for her benefit. In the first place he would 
 make her a still more handsome allowance ; he 
 wished the boys to go to Oxford when older, 
 and he wished her to live in ease and comfort. 
 Secondly, he promised to acknowledge her 
 sons as his lawful heirs immediately after his 
 father's death, and, as life was uncertain, and 
 he himself might chance to die before his 
 father, he pledged his word of honour to 
 deposit the documents which it would be 
 necessary to show hereafter in a place of per- 
 voL. I. 
 
194 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 feet security known to his solicitor, Mr. Black- 
 
 more- 
 
 ' Blackmore ! ' exclaimed Zeph ; ' not really ? 
 Are you sure ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Blackmore, dear ; but let me finish 
 my story — and to give Mr. Blackmore orders 
 to make them public as soon as Lord Berk- 
 hampstead died. He also made over a large 
 sum of money to Mr. Blackmore for the use of 
 Mrs. Murray and family, so that if he himself 
 died there should be no interruption in the re- 
 ceipt of her allowance, and no necessity to 
 appeal to his father. Curionsly enough, Mr. 
 Daylesford did die first. He died eleven years 
 ago, and Mrs. Murray, as he called her, poor 
 thing, did not long survive hiin. Lord Berk- 
 hampstead only died four years ago. The 
 young men, of course, were then grown up. 
 The elder brother, Mr. Marmaduke, was already 
 in the diplomatic service, and had some kind of 
 post in Paris, and our kind friend at the castle 
 was still at Oxford. Lord Berkhampstead died 
 in the beginning of February, and no sooner 
 
OLD SCATCH 195 
 
 was Mr. Blackmore aware of this than he 
 summoned the two brothers to meet hhii at the 
 castle at five o'clock on the afternoon of the 
 7th, when he would carry out their father's in- 
 structions, and at once put them in a position 
 to assume their proper rank. 
 
 ' Mr. Blackmore himself was the first to 
 arrive at the castle — but now comes the dread- 
 ful part of the story ; for, poor man, just as he 
 was stepping out of the carriage which had 
 brought him from the station, he fell heavily 
 forward and lay as if stunned. Everything 
 was done for him that could be done, bu?t he 
 was suffering from something much more 
 serious than a common fall. He was carried 
 to bed, but never spoke another word. No one 
 knew whether he was conscious of pain or not ; 
 there he lay, shut off from this world already. 
 The two brothers came the same day, one from 
 Paris, the other from Oxford, full of dehght at 
 the prospect of seeing each other again, and of 
 havintr their riojht to their father's and strand- 
 father's great name and place firmly established. 
 
 o2 
 
196 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 But when they reached the castle, and found 
 the only man who could perform this important 
 service for them lying thus suddenly stricken 
 down, and the one voice that was to have been 
 raised in their behalf already silenced for ever 
 by the strong grasp of death, you may imagine 
 what a terrible blow it was to them. They 
 sent for London doctors ; they watched by his 
 side hoping for some sign of returning con- 
 sciousness ; but all in vain, and a little after 
 midnight they became aware that he was 
 dead.' 
 
 ' How awful ! how maddening ! ' exclaimed 
 Zeph. ' That is one of those things which are 
 so cruel that it seems wrong they should have 
 been allowed to happen ! But do go on, I am 
 so interested ; and, by-the-bye, do explain one 
 thing that rather surprises me. How was it 
 that, as Lord Berkhampstead had to all 
 appearance died without an heir, there was 
 not some near relation to step in at once and 
 claim the estates and all he had left .^ And 
 then, how did it happen that Mr. Blackmore 
 
OLD SCATCH 197 
 
 could ask people to meet him at the castle, and 
 act as if he were the master of all ? ' 
 
 * He always had managed things in the 
 castle — he was the old lord's solicitor, as well 
 as his son's — his father had been the late lord's ; 
 the Blackmores had been confidential advisers 
 to the Berkhampstead family for I don't know 
 how many generations ; and as for there being 
 no near relative to claim the peerage, you 
 forget that there had been no time. The old 
 lord was lying dead in the house, and the only 
 member of the family who could expect to 
 succeed him was travelling somewhere in the 
 wilds of America. But there was another 
 reason : this family secret, though it had been 
 so well kept as regarded the poor old man, who 
 had just died at the age of ninety, was by no 
 means so much of a secret to the world at 
 large. For twenty years or more it had been 
 rumoured that the heir apparent of the Berk- 
 hampstead peerage was either secretly married 
 or ought to be. The boys were called Murray 
 at school and at college, but there was always an 
 
198 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 undercurrent of gossip as to whose grandsons 
 they were, and it was always supposed that 
 some day or other they would make an effort 
 to prove themselves legitimate. Besides, you 
 must not imagine that there was never any 
 other claimant, dear ; you may be quite certain 
 that good things such as those the old lord left 
 behind him are always well fought for. — Oh 
 dear. Miss Treherne, 1 hear one of those dread- 
 ful boys screaming ! Is it a scream of pain, or 
 only just fun ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, never mind which it is,' said Zepli 
 eagerly ; ' do go on.' 
 
 ' They buried old Lord Berkhampstead 
 and they buried the poor lawyer, and the two 
 young Murrays — I mean Daylesfords — asserted 
 their claim, and Mr. Blackmore's lawyer son 
 supported them warmly by repeating his 
 father's words and showing various letters. 
 One of these had been found in Mr. Black- 
 more's pocket after his death. I will read you 
 a copy of it which I made from one of the 
 newspapers at the time — for, of course, every- 
 
OLD SCATCH 199 
 
 thing was in the newspapers. It was from the 
 young men's father, and it was found among 
 his papers after his death. 
 
 '"My dear Blackmore, — When you receive 
 this I shall be no more. I write to remind 
 you of your promise to me; and if I do so it is 
 not because I do not trust you implicitly, but 
 because I desire to leave no loophole whatso- 
 ever for any mistake in the performance of my 
 promise to my poor wife, whom, strange as it 
 may seem after all that has passed, I sometimes 
 think of with a certain tenderness. My father 
 is eighty, but still has pleasure in his life. I 
 hold you firmly to your promise that he shall 
 never know how I have deceived him and what 
 a wretched life mine has been. I wish also to 
 remind you of one of the most important 
 terms of our agreement. As soon as you hear 
 that he too is dead, you are at once to summon 
 my boys to meet you at Berkhampstead, and 
 there you are to hand over to them the papers 
 you wot of. I write this as I feel a presenti- 
 
200 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ment that I shall not live long. This letter 
 will be sent to you, or found by you, when I 
 am dead. My friend^ I trust you. Farewell. 
 
 ' " Cyril Daylesford." 
 
 *- Where were these papers ? Every paper 
 and parchment in the muniment room was 
 turned over and examined in the presence of 
 certain trustworthy witnesses to see that no- 
 thing was tampered with. Every drawer and 
 cabinet in the library and every other part of 
 the house was ransacked. Every book shaken 
 so hard that it almost turned stupid. Mr. 
 Blackmore's office was searched, so was his 
 private house. Agents were sent abroad to 
 every place the young men had ever heard 
 their parents mention. They did obtain some 
 proof of the marriage, but not what they 
 wanted, and still they went on with their 
 search until the next-of-kin opponent had 
 marshalled his forces and the trial began. 
 You must have heard of the trial. Miss 
 Treherne ? ' 
 
OLD SCATCH 201 
 
 'I am so out of the world,' pleaded Zeph 
 apologetically. 
 
 ' Every newspaper was filled with it at the 
 time. It lasted I don't know how long, and 
 must have cost a fortune. At all events, you 
 know^ what verdict was given. You know the 
 jury decided that there was proof to establish 
 the fact that the marriage had taken place 
 before the birth of the second son, but not that 
 it had taken place before the birth of the first, 
 so they pronounced our dear kind friend at the 
 castle the only legitimate son born of the mar- 
 riage, and therefore the inheritor of the title 
 and estates.' 
 
 Zeph was silent a moment. It was a 
 strange story. ' He,' continued Mrs. Scatcherd, 
 ' regarded this decision as a cruel insult to the 
 memory of a mother whom both he and his 
 brother love and worship as the best and 
 noblest of women, and absolutely incapable of 
 anything even approaching dishonour at any 
 period of her hfe. They take their stand on 
 their knowledge of her character — oi her 
 
202 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 loving fidelity to them and to her husband, 
 which no one but a semi-lunatic like their poor 
 father could ever have doubted for a moment 
 — and on the tenor of their father's letters to 
 his solicitor, v^^hich so clearly show that he had 
 entrusted Mr. Blackmore with the power of 
 producing evidence which would for ever 
 establish their mother's innocence and their 
 own legitimacy ; and that being the case, our 
 Mr. Daylesford at the castle refused to abide 
 by the decision of the court. He maintains 
 that his brother is the lawful Earl. His 
 brother cannot assume that rank, and he him- 
 self will not. He still hopes that the lost papers 
 will be found, but in the meantime he persists 
 in treating his brother as the head of the family,' 
 
 ' What a difficult situation ! ' said Zeoh. 
 
 ' Very ! ' returned Mrs. Scatcherd uneasily. 
 ' Do you know I have been fancying for a long 
 time that I hear some one moving about over- 
 head.' 
 
 'Oh, no ! ' replied Zeph. ' Besides, even, 
 if you did, why should you mind ? ' 
 
OLD SCATCH 203 
 
 ' But we are just under one of the boys' 
 bedrooms, and we never let them go into their 
 rooms during the day. The doors are locked 
 as soon as the beds are made, and they are not 
 unlocked again till bedtime.' 
 
 'But why?' 
 
 ' You would not ask: why if you had seen 
 what I have seen. My dear, if they were 
 open they would be turned upside down and 
 out of the windows in five minutes — they 
 would carry off the blankets to make tents, 
 
 and the pillows to fight with, and But I 
 
 am certain there is some one moving about 
 above us ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! I don't think there is — at any 
 rate, do just finish what you were saying before 
 you go. Your last words were, "In the mean- 
 time Mr. Daylesford persists in treating his 
 brother as head of the family " — that's where 
 you were.' 
 
 'But that's all, or very nearly so. He 
 maintains that everything belongs to the elder 
 brother, and, as the elder brother won't take it, 
 
204 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Mr. Daylesford has settled that they shall each 
 have an allowance of five thousand a year out 
 of the estate — which is all he considers he 
 himself is entitled to — and that the rest shall 
 accumulate till the elder brother's rights are 
 proved. Mr. Marmaduke Daylesford gets the 
 best of the bargain, for he has a clear five 
 thousand a year, and a great salary from the 
 country besides, while our Mr. Daylesford only 
 has his five thousand, and spends a great deal 
 of it in keeping up his brother's property, as he 
 calls it ; but I believe he had money from his 
 father.' 
 
 ' But he seems to have the use of the 
 castle ! ' 
 
 ' No, he has hardly ever been here. Now 
 that he is in England he comes occasionally to 
 see if all is going on right, but he never enter- 
 tains here, and never allows any one to consider 
 him the master.' 
 
 ' But,' persisted Zeph, ' he is just as much 
 at home as if he were the master.' 
 
 'Not more than he would be in his 
 
OLD SCATCH 205^ 
 
 brother's house — those two have always loved 
 each other as brothers do in the proverb, and 
 perhaps nowhere else.' 
 
 * Are those two little wretches outside there 
 brothers ? Is that what you are thinking 
 of?' 
 
 A great deal of noise had been going on 
 outside for some time, and Zeph had hoped 
 Mrs. Scatcherd would pay no attention to it 
 till she had told all she knew. No\y it had 
 become much worse. Two of the boys were 
 having a desperate conflict in a retired corner 
 of the garden, and their bloodthirsty com- 
 panions were urging them on, alternately back- 
 ing Fox major and Fox minor. These young 
 gentlemen were twins, so that the difference 
 their names betokened was purely illusory. 
 
 ' They'll kill each other, and we shall have 
 the disgrace of an inquest in the house,' cried 
 Mrs. Scatcherd, now for the first time becoming 
 aware of what was going on. ' Oh, how his 
 nose is bleeding ! Oh, what a wretch of a boy 
 to strike again! Oh, what shall I do. Miss 
 
2o6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Trelieriie? I ought to go, and it does make 
 me so ill to see such sights as that I Thank 
 goodness, here's John ! ' 
 
 The doctor appeared on the lawn, and the 
 turbulent mass of kicking, plunging, and ges- 
 ticulating boyhood at once darted tumultuously 
 through a well-kept bed of laurels and disap- 
 peared. He folio vved them at once, either to 
 see that the quarrel was not merely adjourned, 
 or to capture the ringleaders. Mrs. Scatcherd, 
 who had turned very pale, recovered her colour 
 immediately. ^I ought to be accustomed to 
 such scenes — they happen often enough, I am 
 sure,' said she. 
 
 ' I am afraid I must go,' said Zeph ; ' it will 
 sot)n be luncheon-time,' 
 
 * I won't ask you to stay to-day, dear,' said 
 her new friend. * This is one of our days for 
 eating up scraps. But there is time to show 
 you the boys' rooms and the schoolrooms. I'd 
 like to do that.' She took a bunch of keys 
 out of her basket, and Zeph felt it behoved 
 her to accept this ofFer-=-it would be well for 
 
OLD SCATCH 207 
 
 her to know exactly what taking pupils was 
 hke. 
 
 'This is one room,' said Mrs. Scatcherd, 
 flinging open a door, and revealing four small 
 iron beds standing one on each side of a very 
 large square chilly-looking room. The win- 
 dows were strongly guarded by iron bars, and 
 looked on a row of leafless trees. Everything 
 was perfectly symmetrical. A short lenj^th of 
 carpet Avas laid by the side of each bed, a chair 
 was placed by the head. Each boy had his 
 own washstand, chest of drawers, and an illu- 
 minated text over his bed. ' The rooms are all 
 alike,' said Mrs. Scatcherd. ' I will show you 
 another, for it looks on the garden. I wish 
 they were all occupied.' Just as she had un- 
 locked and was about to enter the next room, 
 the doctor's voice was heard imperatively call- 
 ing, ' Eosalie, my dear, come down.' 
 
 'I must go — I must go at once,' she ex- 
 claimed in a fright. Something is wrong, I 
 can hear. Stay, will you look at this ruom 
 without me, and I will jzo to him ? I wonder 
 
2o8 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 how that window happens to be open below ? 
 we never open the lower half of the windows.' 
 
 ' I will shut it,' said Zeph, but Mrs. 
 Scatcherd had already disappeared. 
 
 Zeph went to the window, and seeing a very 
 dirty foot-mark on the window-seat turned 
 round to look for the person who had made it, 
 and caught a glimpse of a bright little anxious 
 eye peeping at her from behind the towel- 
 horse. She went towards this piece of 
 furniture, and found a handsome little fellow 
 hiding behind it, a dear little russet- brown 
 complexioned boy of nine years old. She would 
 have given anything for a good kiss from him, 
 he was so like Jack. 
 
 'Don't you go and tell her I am here — • 
 please don't. It's a caning for getting into the 
 bedrooms through the window, and Old Scatch 
 is in such a bait already — he'd be awful.' 
 
 ' Of course I won't tell,' rephed Zeph, ' but 
 you had much better go out by the same way 
 you came, and at once, and you ought to wipe 
 off that mark.' . 
 
OLD SCATCH 209 
 
 * Oil, don't stop to tell me things, Mother 
 Scatch will be coming,' said the boy. ' Go out 
 and lock the door, and keep the key awhile, 
 please do.' 
 
 ' All right,' replied Zeph, ' but promise me 
 to go away at once.' He nodded ; he was very 
 much afraid lest all this talking should l:e 
 overheard. She cast a very affectionate glance 
 at him, which in reality was intended for her 
 beloved Jack, locked the door, and went down. 
 On the stairs she met Mrs. Scatcherd, who was 
 slowly returning to her, and wiping away a 
 furtive tear as she came. 
 
 ' He is so cross ! ' said she apologetically. 
 ' Men are cross creatures ! I really cannot do 
 everything, and there are days when everything 
 goes wrong, do what you will.' 
 
 Zeph said a few words of comfort, and then 
 asked, ' Do you take boys as young as eight or 
 nine ? ' for she was curious to hear something of 
 her new friend. 
 
 ' Oh yes, and the most unmanageable boy 
 
 VOL. I. • p 
 
2IO THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 in the whole school is a sweet-looking little 
 fellow of just that age.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' exclaimed Zeph, and then she 
 told herself that, sweet-looking or not, young or 
 old, she should detest them all if she had to see 
 them daily, and that she would not live as Mrs. 
 Scatcherd did for worlds. And yet her John 
 was a very different man from plain prosy Dr. 
 Scatcherd. 
 
211 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 
 
 * Go to — go to ; you have known what you should not.' 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 Whex Zeph returned to the castle, the gong- 
 had already sounded for luncheon. It had 
 wasted its strength almost in vain, for no one 
 was in the dining-room but poor little Mrs. 
 Treherne, who looked very small and lonely. 
 She had begun to eat, not knowing whether she 
 ought to be most afraid of keeping her hus- 
 band or those formidable-looking men-servants 
 waiting^. 
 
 ' Zeph, Zeph,' she exclaimed, ' my dear 
 child, where have you been ? ' 
 
 ' At the rectory, mother. I promised last 
 night to go there soon after eleven. I could 
 
212 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 not come to you before I went out for fear of 
 disturbing father.' 
 
 ' Mr. Daylesforcl was looking for yon. He 
 came to ask if we knew where you could be 
 found ; and now he has gone — nay, I don't 
 remember where.' 
 
 When the servants had performed the two 
 or three services expected of them, and had 
 retired to their own much ampler and more 
 protracted meal, Zeph gradually told her 
 mother everything that she herself had just 
 been told, Mrs. Treherne had heard some 
 part of the story from the lips of her host 
 himself,' but she was so interested in Zeph's 
 narration that she actually lingered a little 
 longer than usual before rejoining her husband. 
 Zeph lingered a little too ; then she went 
 upstairs to take off her outdoor garments ; she 
 had come in so late for luncheon that she had 
 sat down as she was. She might have been in 
 her room about twenty minutes when she heard 
 some one knocking at the door. ' Come in,' 
 said she, with a certain amount of indifference ; 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT ? 213 
 
 but as no one obeyed her she went and opened 
 it. Her father was there. The sight of him 
 startled her so much that she turned pale and 
 almost trembled — never once in her life had 
 she known him depart from his habits so far as 
 to leave his work for any cause whatever at 
 this time of th€ day — never at any time had she 
 known him perform his errands himself — her 
 mother always came. He stood very erect, 
 that too was a change, and she could see that 
 he was under the influence of some very 
 strong feeling which he was striving hard to 
 control. 
 
 ' Father,' she gasped nervously, ' father, what 
 is it ? Is mother very ill ? ' 
 
 ' I wish to speak to you,' he answered. ' I 
 do not wish to be overheard ; can I go into 
 your room ? ' 
 
 She bowed her head in humble acqui- 
 escence. What was she about to hear ? 
 
 ' Zeph ! ' said he, ' I am ashamed of you. 
 You have done something which has made me 
 thoroughly ashamed of you. I did not beheve 
 
214 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 it possible that a child of mine could behave so 
 ill.' 
 
 ' I, father? I ? ' said the amazed girl ; ' I don't 
 •understand you ; tell me what it is.' 
 
 He sighed heavily, and said, 'Is it possible 
 that you yourself do not know how ill you 
 have behaved ? Here we are, three persons 
 in all, enjoying the hospitality of a man who 
 has been most friendly to us in every way, and 
 who loses no opportunity of heaping kindnesses 
 and favours on us, and you, my daughter, go 
 and sit for an hour or two with a silly, unlady- 
 like person who is all but a stranger to you, 
 drawing from her everything that she is willing 
 to tell you of his private concerns ! Zeph, your 
 conduct seems to me perfectly unpardonable. 
 What right have you to pry into our host's 
 affairs ? Why should yon know anything about 
 them at all unless he himself chooses to 
 communicate them ? Of all forms of curiosity, 
 that of trying to induce a man's neighbours or 
 dependants to tattle about him is the most 
 revolting. That Mrs. Scatcherd must be a 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 215 
 
 vulgar-minded, gossiping woman. I have been 
 a good deal brought down by poverty, but 
 surely not low enough to have to accept such a 
 companion as she is for my daughter. Zeph, 
 your behaviour has been indelicate in the 
 highest degree. I give you notice that I can 
 no longer accept Mr. Daylesford's hospitality 
 with any comfort.' 
 
 Zeph, who had for some time been crying 
 too much to speak, so cruelly did his words 
 and the stings of her own conscience pain her, 
 put out her hand to stop him, for he was now 
 turning to leave her. 'Don't go away in that 
 way, father,' said she ; ' don't be so very angry 
 with me. I did it without thinking how wrong 
 it was.' 
 
 ' That makes me so ashamed for you,' he 
 replied. ' I should have thought that every one 
 had sufficient natural dehcacy to avoid ' 
 
 ' My dear father,' interrupted Zeph, ' I will 
 never do such a thing again ; trust me, dear ; ' 
 then she could say no more, her sobs and her 
 tears came so fast. 
 
2i6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' I don't want to be unkind,' said he, kiss- 
 ing her, ' but I would give a great deal that 
 this had not happened — it is an act of mean 
 treachery.' 
 
 ' Don't, don't ! ' exclaimed Zeph. She could 
 bear no more, and flung herself into a chair by 
 the fire, and he went away. She recognised 
 the truth of all he said. She had felt some 
 compunction more than once during Mrs. 
 Scatcherd's recital, but she had been so inter- 
 ested — that was the word she had then used — 
 that she had urged her new friend to go on. 
 She now felt mortified beyond endurance 
 to think that she could have been betrayed 
 into conduct which hurt her father's sense of 
 honour. Why had she not been born with an 
 equally delicate sense of honour of her own ? 
 She wept quietly by the fire for a long time. 
 Some one was knocking at the door again — 
 doubtless it was her poor dear father who had 
 come back to forgive her. She went quickly 
 to let him in. It was Lydia, with a lovely 
 bunch of flowers sent by Daylesford, and a 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 217 
 
 message that Mr. and Mrs. Vincent were in the 
 drawing-room ; would she go down and see 
 them? Lydia could scarcely deliver her 
 message with composure ; the sight of Miss 
 Treherne's tear-stained cheeks, swollen eyelids, 
 and absolute inability to conceal her woe- 
 begoneness, so distracted her thoughts. Zeph 
 was dismayed at having been thus betrayed 
 into showing that something very unusual had 
 occurred, and at having exhibited herself in 
 all the ugliness of her helpless grief. What 
 would the girl think ? 
 
 ' Lydia,' said she, with an effort to enlist her 
 sympathy, ' make some good excuse for me. I 
 cannot go down ; I am very unhap^^y about 
 something.' 
 
 ' No, ma'am, you cannot go down,' replied 
 Lydia decisively. 'I'll say you are ill with 
 a very bad headache, and I'll come back, if 
 you will allow me, with something to do you 
 good.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said poor Zeph meekly, and 
 then burst into tears once more. 
 
218 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Lydia gently took her by the arm and led 
 her into the room. Then she wheeled the sofa 
 near the fire, made Zeph lie down on it, and 
 covered her with a soft eider-down cover- 
 let ; but no sooner was she gone than Zeph 
 rose wearily to her feet again : how could 
 she lie stretched in ease on his sofa, and be 
 warmed by his fire, and comforted by his cover- 
 let, when she had behaved to him in a way 
 which her father had characterised as mean 
 and treacherous? She paced backwards and 
 forwards for an hour or more. Lydia came 
 to her once or twice, bringing sal-volatile 
 and strong tea, but Lydia ' could do nothing 
 with her, she was much too self-willed for 
 her.' 
 
 ' Are Mr. and Mrs. Vincent gone ? ' asked 
 Zeph at last. 
 
 'Yes, ma'am, some time ago.' 
 ' And where is Mr. Daylesford .^ ' 
 'Li the drawing-room; at least, he was 
 when I saw him last. He asked if I thought 
 you would come down soon.' 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 219 
 
 ' Lydia, you have not let him know that I 
 have been crying ? ' 
 
 ' I ? Oh, ma'am, how could I ? ' 
 
 But Zeph was sure that she had hazarded 
 some statement of the kind. She went to the 
 looking-glass and inspected her appearance. If 
 she were to wash her face carefully it would 
 perhaps pass muster well enough, especially 
 now that evening was drawing near. She did 
 wash it, she smoothed her hair, she washed 
 her face again and again, and finally thought 
 that she might venture to go down to the 
 drawing-room. She had made up her mind 
 that the only way to recover her self-respect 
 was to confess what she had done, and she was 
 now setting forth to do it if her courage did 
 but hold out. She was passing along one of 
 the corridors when she saw him. He was 
 standing at a window which looked out on the 
 garden, gloomily watching the gradual oblitera- 
 tion of everything by the grey shadows of a 
 dull evening. 
 
 'I was waiting for you,' said he, coming to 
 
220 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 her at once. ' I have been so anxious about 
 you.' 
 
 She had spent so much time in trying to 
 wash off the marks of the tears she had shed, 
 and yet at these kind words she broke into 
 tears again, 
 
 ' You have been ill all the afternoon, and 
 alone,' said he. ' I have so wanted to send 
 your mother to you ; it was so sad to think of 
 your being quite alone.' 
 
 ' My mother ! ' said Zeph ; ' but you forget 
 she could not have left my father.' 
 
 ' I suppose not,' said he, with an almost im- 
 perceptible shrug of the shoulders ; ' but do tell 
 me what is causing you such pain ? I may not 
 be what people call an old friend, yet believe 
 me I would do a great deal to serve you.' 
 
 ' That is one of the things which makes me 
 cry so much,' she exclaimed ; ' don't say any- 
 thing more of that kind.' 
 
 He looked at her with much wonder and 
 compassion, but did not speak. 
 
 ' I want to say something to you — that is if 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 221 
 
 I dare. Let us go into the drawing-room — no 
 one is lii^ely to come there ; I mean neither 
 father nor mother ever do.' She said this very 
 drearily— he pitied her for her lonehness. 
 
 * You had better come in here for a moment,' 
 said he, throwing open the door of a quiet 
 little sitting-room she had never seen before. 
 ' I write my letters here and get over my little 
 vexations in private— let me try to help you to 
 get over some of yours.' 
 
 ' Don't be kind to me,' said she, strugghng 
 hard to keep back a fresh torrent of tears — 
 ' please don't, or I shall be as bad as ever again.' 
 
 He gave her a chair and then sat down 
 opposite to her — not too distant to hear if she 
 spoke in a low voice, but not near enough to 
 seem to be studying every change in the ex- 
 pression of her face. ' Now,' said he, in a low 
 kind voice, ' I want you to treat me as a friend 
 — I am one in my heart, though I have per- 
 haps not known you long. Why have you 
 been making yourself so miserable the whole 
 afternoon ? ' 
 
222 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' I cannot — I really cannot tell you. And 
 yet I must try. It was because my father 
 was very angry with me — very angry indeed, 
 and for the first time in my life.' 
 
 ' Your father ! ' exclaimed Daylesford, al- 
 most incredulously, for it seemed to him that 
 when Mr. Treherne was busy with books and 
 papers — and he was never willingly otherwise 
 — he was only partially aware that he had a 
 wife, and altogether ignorant that he had a 
 daughter. 
 
 ' Yes, my father. He came all the way 
 upstairs to tell me how angry he was with me ; 
 he said the most terrible things to me. Don't 
 speak, don't say a word against him, for every 
 sinojle thino; he said was true.' 
 
 ' You had done something that he did not 
 like ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, but without knowing ' 
 
 ' Then surely ' 
 
 ' No, it was not unjust of him — he was 
 shocked at me for not knowing that it was 
 wrong. You don't know what cruel things he 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 223 
 
 said to me ; but he was right, and, Mr. Dayles- 
 ford, after thinking about it for a long time, I 
 feel that there is only one way of regaining my 
 own self-esteem, and that is to tell you exactly 
 
 what I did ; but ' she added slowly, and 
 
 speaking with great difficulty, ' it is so hard to 
 do it.' 
 
 ' Don't try, why should you ? There is no 
 occasion whatever for such a painful effort. 
 You admit that Mr. Treherne was partly justi- 
 fied in speaking as he did, so you are never 
 likely to offend him again in the same way.' 
 
 ' Never ; but there is such a thing as atone- 
 ment. My offence was against you. I shall 
 never be happy until I have confessed it and 
 you have despised me for it, and then I hope 
 forgiven me.' 
 
 ' But I forgive you already,' said he kindly. 
 ' Besides, I am quite sure that there is nothing 
 to forgive.' 
 
 ' That won't do, for you might think differ- 
 erently if you knew. Don't look at me while I 
 tell you ; I shall not be able to speak if you do.' 
 
224 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 He carefully looked another way, but she 
 never knew that lie did, for she bowed her 
 head and covered her eyes with her hand. 
 
 ' I am so ashamed,' she said, ' but I must 
 tell you, if I am ever to forgive myself. Mr. 
 Daylesford, you must excuse my mentioning 
 things which are very personal to you, for that 
 unfortunately I cannot help. You know that 
 Mrs. Scatcherd invited me to go to the rectory 
 early this morning to see her. I did go, and 
 we began to talk of— of you ; and you must 
 forgive me if what I am about to say gives you 
 pain, but I got her to tell me — you can guess 
 what I got her to tell me — no, I must go on 
 and say it myself — ^I got her to tell me all she 
 knov/s about you and your hfe.' 
 
 ' What does she know about my life ? ' he 
 exclaimed angrily. 
 
 ' Your romantic history, I mean,' said Zeph. 
 'Why, you are Mr. Daylesford, and your brother 
 is only Mr. Daylesford too, a;nd about the lost 
 papers. I don't know what made me do it 
 except that I was so interested ; but when my 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 225 
 
 mother told my father what I had done, he 
 came all the way upstairs to my room to tell 
 me that he despised me, that it was thoroughly 
 dishonourable of me to pry into your secrets, 
 and that he could not stay happily under your 
 roof after I had behaved so ill.' 
 
 * My dear Miss Treherne, is that all ? ' said 
 he, stooping forward and taking her hand in 
 his. 
 
 ' All ! ' said she, unable to look up. ' Isn't 
 it enough ? ' 
 
 ' It's nothing I ' 
 
 She drew away her hand in some displea- 
 sure, and said, 'Mr. Daylesford, you can scarcely 
 imagine what it has cost me to come and tell 
 you this, and now you treat me -' 
 
 ' I only want to comfort you ; and indeed I 
 do not look on this as a grave fault. From 
 your point of view I can see that you would 
 naturally think a great deal of it ; but from 
 mine, no; my unfortunate history is public 
 property. Besides, after all it was more Mrs. 
 Scatcherd's fault than yours.' 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Now tliat is what it most distinctly was 
 not/ exclaimed Zeph, able to speak up loudly 
 when another person was blamed. 'I made 
 her go on. I said I was interested. She would 
 often have stopped.' 
 
 ' Don't say anything more about it. I re- 
 spect your scruples; they show a delicacy ' 
 
 'They show nothing, if you please, Mr. 
 Daylesford, but what I have learnt from my 
 father's scolding. Before he spoke to me I 
 had no idea I had done wrong. Will you 
 explain how that could be?' 
 
 ' I suppose because no one had ever 1 
 
 don't know what I do mean — but I am sure 
 that you have tormented yourself without a 
 cause.' He looked at her with eyes full of 
 pitying affection. She was so good and noble 
 in all points on which her mind had been 
 opened, but so untaught, untrained, and woe- 
 fully neglected in every way, that his heart 
 ached for her. The two days spent by her 
 father and mother at the castle might, he sup- 
 posed, be fairly taken as a sample of how they 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 227 
 
 passed their lives at home — and, possibly, of 
 how they had passed them for the last twenty 
 years. As parents, therefore, they were all but 
 non-existent. They stayed in the library here, 
 or the study at home, from early morning till 
 late night, leaving their daughters to educate 
 and train themselves. He was almost certain 
 that the lecture of to-day was the first bit of 
 moral guidance that Mr. Treherne had ever 
 given his daughter Josephine. Mr. Dayles- 
 ford's only wonder was that she had grown up 
 as good and as noble as she was. The moment 
 what she had done had been put in a proper 
 light, her sense of right and honour was as 
 keen as could be desired. He thoroughly 
 admired and respected her for so boldly, and 
 at such cost to herself, coming to own her fault 
 and seek pardon. What might not be made 
 of such a girl as that ? While he had been 
 thinking thus, he had been unconsciously gazing 
 at the fire; when his eyes once more turned 
 to Zeph she was looking very unhappy. 
 ' You despise me ? ' said she sadly. 
 
 q2 
 
228 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 . ' I do nothing of the kind. I should 
 despise myself if I did. I can only say that I 
 had a very great regard for you before, and 
 that it is now much increased.' 
 
 'Not really?' she said, her face flushing 
 with pleasure. 
 
 ' Yes, really.' 
 
 'Then,' said she, with rather pathetic humi- 
 lity, ' as you see what bad things I am capable 
 of doing in ignorance, will you, while I am 
 here, tell me if you see me doing anything 
 wrong? I have never had any one to go to 
 when I was in difficulty before. At home 
 there is no occasion to know the difference 
 between right and wrong, for nothing ever 
 happens there ; but just while I am here, will 
 you?' 
 
 'You surely would not have me presume 
 to find fault with you?' he exclaimed, with 
 some warmth ; ' I am quite certain that there 
 is no chance of your ever doing anything that 
 I should think wrong. And why do you say 
 while you are here? Am I not to have the 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 229 
 
 pleasure of knowing you after you have left 
 this place ? ' 
 
 'That,' she answered, with a very pretty 
 quiet smile, 'depends entirely on your own 
 kindness.' 
 
 Her manner, he thought, was quite that of 
 a child who is kindly treated by some bene- 
 volent old gentleman who is in every way 
 infinitely superior to herself. Never by any 
 chance did Zeph show any consciousness that 
 he was a young man, in no way different from 
 other young men, and might perchance end by 
 falUng in love with her. If, when at the ball 
 the night before, he had asked her to dance 
 once with him, she would have danced once 
 and have been thankful ; if he had asked her 
 to dance six times, she would have accepted his 
 invitation dutifully without attaching any im- 
 portance to the fact that he seemed to prefer 
 her to other partners. Why was she so dif- 
 ferent from other girls ? Why did she persist 
 in regarding him as a man ordained to move 
 entirely in another sphere? She gratefully 
 
230 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 accepted any kindness from him, but her man- 
 ner showed that she was firmly convinced that 
 their lives must be passed apart. These thoughts 
 coursed through his mind so quickly, that, 
 without any apparent delay, he answered, ' Oh, 
 if it depends on me, it is all right.' 
 
 ' Now I must go,' said she, rising promptly 
 and moving a step or two towards the door. 
 This had been a business interview, she thought, 
 and it was over. 
 
 ' Where are you going ? ' he inquired. 
 
 ' To the drawing-room.' 
 
 ' As I shall naturally go there with you and 
 sit down and talk to you, what is the difference 
 between going there and staying here ? ' 
 
 ' Because it seems a more natural place for 
 me to be than here.' 
 
 'You are right,' said he involuntarily. When 
 they came to the stairs he stopped at Phillis 
 Arnold's portrait. ' You ought just to look at 
 yourself,' said he. 
 
 'It does seem strange to think of my 
 having worn that dress ! ' 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 231 
 
 * You pass by quite bravely now ; the day 
 before yesterday I am sure you expected all 
 those poor dear ladies and gentlemen to step 
 out of their frames and walk upstairs by your 
 side.' 
 
 ' Don't remind me of it ; the feeling might 
 return. It has only gone out of my mind because 
 I have had so many other things to think 
 about. You know that I had never been to a 
 ball in all my lif^ till last night. How I wish 
 there was another to go to to-night ! ' 
 
 As they went through the hall, a long row 
 of letters was lying on a table in the full 
 glare of a lamp — the post had just come in/ 
 ' The Honourable Godfrey Daylesford,' re> 
 peated Zeph, in a tone of great disappoint- 
 ment. ' All the letters are for you.' But in a 
 corner by itself was one substantial square one 
 which was addressed to her in such a firm, 
 well-formed, pretty handwriting, that Dayles- 
 ford was just going to exclaim, ' What lovely 
 writing I ' when something in Zeph's face 
 showed him that this was no common letter. 
 
232 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 He pretended to be fully engaged in examining 
 those intended for himself, and in congratu- 
 lating himself on not being pursued into the 
 country by a great packet of proof-sheets as 
 Mr. Treherne was. ' I think I'll take them to 
 him/ said he, to give Zeph time to recover. 
 ' You will be in the drawing-room when I 
 come back, won't you ? ' 
 
 He went into the large and now gloomy- 
 looking library ; for all light was concentrated 
 in a small circle near the fire. Mr. Treherne 
 was, as usual, buried full fathom five in the 
 perusal of musty parchment records. Dayles- 
 ford would have ventured any sum on it that 
 he had entirely forgotten the circumstance 
 which had so distressed his daughter. Perfect 
 calm reigned in the library ; not one thought 
 of any human being outside those four walls 
 troubled either Mr. or Mrs. Treherne. Even 
 when their host came into the room they did 
 not exert themselves to keep up any conversa- 
 tion with him when once the first words of 
 greeting after their brief separation had been 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 233 
 
 exchanged. He took a chair for a while, and 
 watched Mr. Treherne as he sat in the strong 
 light of the lamp deciphering the crabbed, 
 much-contracted old writing. It was a face 
 that pleased him ; he liked to look at that 
 handsome but sensitive mouth, that well-cut 
 nose which told of gentle blood, and the clear 
 eye which always me this gaze so unhesitat- 
 ingly when once the poor old man was roused 
 from his work. It was such a proud face, and 
 yet so full of gentleness and resignation. The 
 lamplight shone on his wan temples, where 
 the skin was so thin and transparent that the 
 course of the veins could be clearly traced. 
 Daylesford sighed and turned to look at Mrs. 
 Treherne. She was sitting in a semi-dark 
 corner knitting and nodding, and then waking 
 with a start to wonder if her dear husband 
 wanted anything. Not that she ventured to 
 ask the question. He scarcely ever did want 
 anything but the dimly felt pleasure of her 
 company. He reminded Daylesford of a 
 hunter which can eat no food, rest in no 
 
234 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 stable, win no race, if it be parted from the cat 
 which, having been born and bred in its stable, 
 has won its love. Mrs. Treherne was the faith- 
 ful and affectionate cat whose companionship 
 was indispensable. ' Now I'll leave you,' said 
 Daylesford ; ' I want to go back to Miss 
 Treherne.' He watched Mr. Treherne most 
 attentively as he said this. Not a muscle of 
 his face moved — Zeph's misdeed, his own 
 righteous indignation, both had passed away 
 for ever from his mind. His fine sense of 
 honour had been so deeply wounded that he 
 had at once hurried away to reproach her for 
 what she had done ; had he decided to wait 
 until the evening Zeph would probably never 
 have had her scolding, for the tablets of his 
 memory would have refused to keep any record 
 of her offence. 'He is a dear old fellow,' 
 thought Daylesford, ' but he had no business to 
 marry ! ' He went to Zeph, who had put her 
 letter in her pocket and was gazing thought- 
 fully into the fire. 
 
 ' Well, Miss Treherne, have you read your 
 
WHEN DOES THE POST GO OUT? 235 
 
 letter ? ' he inquired, Avith much secret curi- 
 osity. 
 
 ' Yes/ she answered gravely. ' Oh yes, I 
 have read it. When does the post go out .^ ' 
 
 ' At seven o'clock ; it's more than half-past 
 six now. Where are you going ? ' 
 
 ' Upstairs. I waited till you came back, as 
 you asked me to do so, but now, if you will 
 excuse me, I must go and answer that letter.' 
 
236 77^7- OTHER PERSON 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE. 
 
 * Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting 
 That would not let me sleep.' — Hamlet. 
 
 ' The post goes out at seven, and it is more 
 than half-past six now.' Those had been Mr. 
 Daylesford's words, but when Zeph hurried 
 down to thrust into the box in the hall a letter 
 addressed to John Simon ds, it still wanted five 
 minutes to the hour. In twenty short minutes 
 she had in that tolerably well-expressed and 
 neatly written letter shattered the dearest 
 hopes of his life. She had regretfully but 
 firmly told him that she would not marry him. 
 ' Don't be angry with me,' she wrote, ' don't 
 reproach me. I have thought till I can think 
 no more. For yoUr sake as well as mine, I 
 must write as I do. I could not make you 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 237 
 
 happy, for I should not be happy myself. 
 Since I came here I have seen something of 
 the kind of life I should have to lead if I did 
 what you ask me, and I know I should not like 
 it. It makes me wretched to give you pain — 
 I am very unhappy myself; but, dear John, 
 it is surely better for both of us to be unhappy 
 now for a while, than to spend our whole lives 
 knowing that we had made a mistake. I am 
 sure I am doing right, but I blame myself for 
 not having done it sooner. Forgive me, and 
 forget me.' 
 
 'There! that will be the end of all his 
 love for me,' was her thought as her letter fell 
 into the box, and her heart died within her, 
 for there was no one on earth whom she loved 
 as she loved that man. ' I could never have 
 done it if I had stopped to think,' said she to 
 herself, ' but I am glad it is written, and now< 
 the thing is over ! ' and she hastened away lest 
 she should see the servant coming to empty the 
 box and be tempted to take back her letter. 
 One wrench now, a sharply painful one maybe, 
 
238 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 and she was saved from a life of cheerless 
 drudgery. At home she was poor, but she had 
 no hard work or responsibihty ; the hfe John 
 had offered her would have burdened her with 
 both. ' I am not the kind of woman to make 
 a poor man happy, and I am certain that I 
 could not bear to spend my days struggling 
 with twenty or thirty tiresome, impertinent, 
 self-willed boys. It may be cruel to refuse 
 him, dear fellow, but it would have been much 
 more cruel to take him. Besides, after all, he 
 won't suffer more than I shall.' And Zeph, 
 who would not for the world have recalled her 
 letter, walked upstairs half bhnded with tears. 
 She dashed them aside, almost angrily. * It's 
 absurd to make myself unhappy about a thing 
 that is entirely my own doing,' thought she. 
 ' If I can't bear it I can easily get my letter 
 back ; but what folly that would be ! I am 
 only nineteen ; why should I close my account 
 with life at that age .^ Why should I say I 
 Avant nothing more that it can ever offer me 
 but this one thing? How do I know what 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 239 
 
 delicious possibilities of pleasure and delight 
 may be lying waiting for me if I will but wait 
 for them? To settle down at nineteen to 
 manage a whole household of rough boys, as if 
 that were all I was fit for, would be simple 
 lunacy. Besides, I have only just time to dress 
 for dinner.' 
 
 That was true, so why did she go to the 
 window and strain her eyes with trying to see 
 Phillis Arnold's lowly grave ? The moon had 
 not yet risen ; all was dark. She could not 
 even distinguish the four sombre trees which 
 guarded it. ' Why should I want to see it ? ' 
 she exclaimed, dropping the curtain and quickly 
 returning to the warmth and light of her room. 
 ' Hers was not a life that I should have liked ; 
 it would have been worse than that I have put 
 from me. Think of having to live just in sight 
 of a region where everything is at its best 
 and brightest, and yet not be allowed to 
 enter it ! ' 
 
 She dressed quickly. The emotional ex- 
 citement she had gone through during the last 
 
240 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 few hours had given her an exquisite colour ; 
 her eyes were unusually bright ; she had never 
 looked more beautiful. She wore some of the 
 roses Mr. Daylesford had sent her early in the 
 afternoon ; though, had it not been for Lydia's 
 thoughtfulness, they would by this time have 
 been hmp and unsightly. She had put them 
 in water, and now they were fresh and bright 
 and sweet as Zeph herself. She was standing 
 before her glass putting the last touches to her 
 dressing, and trying to still a pain at her heart 
 which would go on making itself felt. ' It is 
 no use,' thought she ; ' there are only two 
 courses open to me. I must either write and 
 tell John that I repent my decision and cannot 
 be happy without him, or I must drive him 
 out of my mind.' That was what she intended 
 to do, cost her what it might. She went down- 
 stairs with a hght step : her heart was heavy, 
 but she was resolved that she would master it. 
 As she went she remembered some words she 
 had lately heard — Hamlet's words, 'Thou 
 wouldst not think how ill all's about my heart ; 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 241 
 
 but it's no matter.' She repeated these agam 
 and again to herself as she hurried onwards, 
 for she was late for dinner, but she only re- 
 peated them mechanically. She glanced anxi- 
 ously at her father ; he looked kindly at her — 
 who, indeed, could have helped doing so ? She 
 thought he had forgiven her, and she was very 
 happy. The conversation at dinner was pleasant, 
 but there was an undertone of regret, for this 
 was the last evening they were to spend together 
 — to-morrow they were to go back to London. 
 Mr. Daylesford had done what he came to the 
 castle to do ; no one knew what that was, but 
 the work could not have been oppressive. 
 
 ' I shall be your debtor for life,' said Mr. 
 Treherne to his host. ' You have done me the 
 greatest service one man can do another — 
 enabled me to correct a couple of blunders I 
 had fallen into from following a careless tran- 
 scriber ; and besides that, I can now give an 
 entirely new version of a matter about which 
 we antiquaries have been fighting tooth and nail 
 for years. The treasures in that room of yours, 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
242 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Mr. Daylesford, are simply priceless ; but they 
 ought to be arranged.' 
 
 ' They ought. I do so wish you would try to 
 find some competent person who would do this 
 for my brother. It would be a very good 
 thing if you could, and I am quite sure Mar- 
 maduke would be willing to offer him a hand- 
 some remuneration for his services ; indeed, I 
 would gladly do that myself.' 
 
 ' You surely would not suffer any one else 
 
 to have the run of those ' but here Mr. 
 
 Treherne, who had begun with great vehe- 
 mence, stopped suddenly, afraid lest he had been 
 betrayed into showing his mind too clearly. 
 
 He had said exactly what Daylesford was 
 wishing to hear, and he at once rejoined, ' If I 
 could but persuade you, Mr. Treherne, to 
 undertake the task, I should be so grateful to 
 you. It would completely fall in with my 
 wishes, and with my brother's too, I feel cer- 
 tain ; but if you hold out any hopes of being 
 willing to do it, I will let him know, and he 
 will write to you himself 
 
IV/fAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 243 
 
 ' If ever a day came when I was installed 
 in that room, with permission to examine and 
 arrange all that it contains, I can only say it 
 would be the happiest of my life — I could not 
 possibly have a more congenial task ! ' said Mr. 
 Treherne, with very unusual warmth, 
 
 ' Then let us consider it settled, my dear 
 sir/ exclaimed Daylesford. ' My brother will 
 be only too delighted to hear that you have 
 consented to do this. Let us settle it at once. 
 You will come as soon as you are able, and 
 will stay here till your task is completed, ^ot 
 that doing it all at once is essential — it may 
 be done in instalments if you prefer it. But 
 when will you come ? ' 
 
 ' Not till I have seen my book through the 
 press; perhaps that might be in the beginning 
 of April' 
 
 'Well, let us say April, then,' repHed 
 Daylesford, ' Of courirC you will bring Mrs. 
 Treherne and your daughter with you. I 
 won't take a denial. They have seen this place 
 in winter: I want them to see it in spring. 
 
 b2 
 
244 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Mr. Trelierne was delighted. Every one 
 was pleased, and tlie time passed very happily 
 until they adjourned to the drawing-room, 
 when Mr. Treherne began to look fidgety. 
 Mrs. Treherne observed it at once, but she 
 was timid, and all she dared to do was to 
 glance appealingly at Daylesford, who was 
 quite unconscious of any one's looks but 
 Zeph's. 
 
 At length, but after a long time, Mr. Tre- 
 herne himself took courage and said, ' Would 
 you think me very uncourteous if I were to ask 
 your permission to go back to the library for 
 half an hour — just half an hour? that would 
 give me time for all I want. We are return- 
 ing to London to-morrow, and there is a deed 
 which I really ought to examine more carefully 
 before I go.' 
 
 ' Pray do not go away leaving any hterary 
 duty unfulfilled,' said Daylesford. ' I am 
 sorry I cannot oiFer to let you take any docu- 
 ments away with you, not having my brother's 
 permission ; but if you have the least wish to 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 245 
 
 spend a little more time in the library now, I 
 beg you to gratify it.' 
 
 Mr. Treherne rose — that Daylesford ex- 
 pected ; but he was not prepared to see Mrs. 
 Treherue rise too. She did so. He walked 
 out of the room without another word, and she 
 unhesitatingly followed him, also without say- 
 ing one word, or bestowing one look at her 
 daughter. Daylesford had already perceived 
 that these two had a very imperfect recognition 
 of their parental duties, but that they would 
 walk away at ten o'clock in the evening and 
 leave him to enjoy an indefinitely long tete-a- 
 tete with their beautiful young daughter, for he 
 had not the slightest faith in their promise to 
 return in half an hour, he had not believed it 
 to be possible. For a moment he was too 
 much surprised to speak, the next he was 
 half inclined to laugh. He glanced at Zeph, 
 with much suppressed amusement trying to 
 twinkle in the corners of his eyes. She was 
 quietly looking at the fire, being probably so 
 thoroughly accustomed to these freaks on the 
 
246 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 part of her natural protectors that fchey did not 
 strike her as odd. She was still gazing at the 
 iire. It was a wood fire, and flames the green- 
 est of things blue, the bluest of things green, 
 were curling up and wreathing themselves 
 around the blocks of pine which were being 
 sacrificed to the comfort of Mr. Daylesford and 
 his guests. Her eyes looked sad ; her face, now 
 that it was in repose, looked sad too: poor 
 child, the day to her had been but a sorry one. 
 He did not know how to begin to speak to her, 
 and sat watching her for a minute or two. At 
 length he said, ' I should be very much dis- 
 tressed at the thought that this was the last 
 evening we should have here if I had not per- 
 suaded your father to come back in six weeks 
 or so to armnge those papers ' 
 
 Zeph look up, and slowly and thoughtfully 
 perused his face, and then said quietly, ' It is 
 very kind of you to say so.' 
 
 ' Oh, is it ? ' said he, rather nettled by her 
 dutiful little answer. ' Do you think it is no 
 pleasure to me to see you here ? * 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 247 
 
 ' The house must seem very large and 
 gloomy when you are quite alone.' 
 
 ' I am not afraid of ghosts/ said he, ' but 
 I like pleasant company.' 
 
 At the word ghosts Zeph looked round the 
 room uneasily, but it was deliciously cheerful 
 with the mellow glow of many wax candles ; 
 and besides, ever since her first night at the 
 castle her fear of ghosts had been laid to rest. 
 
 ' You have no idea how lovely the park 
 will be when you come back. Every bit of 
 the wood that is not carpeted with hyacinths 
 will be bright with primroses. I never saw 
 such a place for wild flowers in my life.' 
 
 ' Do you know,' replied Zeph, ' I have 
 sometimes untied one of the bunches of prim- 
 roses one buys in London, and have let them 
 fall, and tried to imagine that when I slowly 
 picked them up and rearranged them I was 
 feehng something of the pleasure of gathering 
 them in the woods and fields ; but I don't 
 believe it was the least bit like it.' 
 
 ' Of course not. What a barren joy ! 
 
248 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 When you come back you shall gather prim- 
 roses enough to fill that wood-basket. I shall 
 like to see your pleasure.' 
 
 * Do you stay here much in the summer ? ' 
 asked Zeph. 
 
 ' No. I don't like being here. I may talk 
 openly to you, may I not.^ You know the 
 circumstances.' 
 
 Zeph blushed scarlet : he was reminding 
 her of her sins. 
 
 He saw the blush, and hastened to say, ' I 
 like you to know them. I think that you must 
 sympathise with me now and see what I feel 
 about this place. I am very fond of it, but I 
 don't like being here; I am reminded of so 
 many things which I want to forget. If Mar- 
 maduke were here it would be all right.' 
 
 'Yes, I wish he were,' said Zeph sympa- 
 thetically. 
 
 ' We were always together when we were 
 boys, and now I have not seen him for nearly 
 four years. I think I shall go out and live 
 with him. I know he will never return to 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 249 
 
 Enorland for more than a short visit until that 
 disgracefully unjust verdict is set aside. How 
 could he ? Every time any one addresses him 
 by any title but that which is his own, it is an 
 insult to the memory of his mother.' 
 
 ' Let us try,' said Zeph, ' to imagine in 
 what kind of place the persons who concealed 
 those papers would be most likely to put them. 
 You are sure that they are not in the muni- 
 ment-room, you say ; but suppose they are, 
 and my father finds them ? ' 
 
 ' It has been searched by Mr. Blackmore's 
 two sons. No, such documents would not be 
 placed there. You see, if that had been the 
 case my grandfather might have found them — 
 my father was particularly anxious to conceal 
 his marriage from him.' 
 
 'Is there nothing which belonged spe- 
 cially to your father ? — no desk, or cabinet, or 
 writing-case, or something with secret drawers ? 
 — that is the kind of thing I mean.' 
 
 ' Every article of furniture, great and small, 
 has been searched, and almost taken to pieces. 
 
250 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 It is a mystery which will choose its own time 
 for revealing itself. We have searched so 
 thoroughly that nothing more can be done. 
 In novels, missing papers are generally dis- 
 covered in some book, or hidden between a 
 book and its cover, or in the lining of some 
 disused blotting-case ; but we have no hope of 
 finding what we want in that way.' 
 
 ' Then you will find it in some ridiculously 
 simple place — some place so obviously the one 
 most likely to be the first thought of, that no 
 one ever thinks of it at all.' 
 
 He shook his head, but his eyes rested 
 kindly on her, he was so grateful to her for 
 taking an interest in what occupied his mind 
 incessantly. ' It's so hard on Marmaduke,' 
 said he. ' It's bad enough for me, but it's a 
 thousand times worse for him. He does 
 not want to spend his life in strugghng to 
 make the Icarians see everything that affects 
 their own well-being in an orthodox British 
 light. He would much rather be in his own 
 country.' 
 
PVHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 251 
 
 'I am quite sure it is only a question of 
 time,' said Zeph. ' I have a presentiment that 
 the papers will be found. My presentiments 
 are generally right, too. Why did you shake 
 your head when I said that the papers would 
 be found in a simple place ? ' 
 
 ' Because my father's letter to Mr. Black- 
 more seemed to imply that there were certain 
 difficulties to be overcome before they could be 
 laid before us. He did not say, " Tell my sons 
 where the papers are deposited and send them 
 the key of the place," or " Tell them to open 
 such and such a cabinet ; " for it was evidently 
 necessary that the poor old man should come 
 here himself. However, don't let us think of 
 this to-night ; what has to be will be ! There 
 is another gloomy thing I cannot help thinking 
 about now, and that is I shall not have the 
 pleasure of talking to you or seeing you to- 
 morrow evening. I have enjoyed this visit to 
 Berkhampstead more than I could have believed 
 possible.' 
 
 ' It has been very pleasant,' repUed Zeph ; 
 
252 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' more than pleasant I ought to say — the ball 
 was dehghtful ! ' 
 
 He smiled : that ball always came first in 
 Zeph's mind, and in one way or another she 
 always contrived to administer a rebuiBf to him. 
 ' I don't believe that there is the least need of 
 anything to remind you of that ball,' he con- 
 tinued, ' but somehow, as it is the first we have 
 enjoyed together, I feel as if I should like you 
 to have something, and I have got you this. 
 You will wear it sometimes, won't you ? ' 
 
 Zeph, much taken by surprise, opened 
 a small jewel-case, and inside it, reposing on 
 the softest light-blue velvet, was a very pretty 
 pearl brooch, exactly like one which had 
 fastened back the lace on Phillis Arnold's 
 shoulder, and which she herself had worn. It 
 was so like it that she thought it was the 
 same. ' How lovely ! ' she exclaimed. ' But I 
 ought not to have it — it is a thing which has 
 been so long in your family ! You lent it to 
 me for one night, and it was very good of you 
 to do so, but I ought not to have it altogether.' 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 253 
 
 * It's not the same,' said he ; ' the one you 
 wore the other night is not mine to give — 
 it is Marmaduke's ; but London is a won- 
 derful place, and there are very few things 
 which cannot be found in it. I sent my 
 man there this morning with the brooch you 
 wore, and orders not to come back until he 
 had found one hke it. He came back while 
 we were at dinner, and he has not matched it 
 badly.' 
 
 Zeph looked delighted. ' You do not mean 
 that you intend this beautiful brooch and took 
 all that trouble for me ? ' 
 
 'Why not? I shall be so pleased if you 
 will accept it.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' she answered, ' it is too kind. 
 You are a thousand times kinder than any one 
 I have ever known.' 
 
 ' You can do something for me in retiu"n,' 
 he rephed. 
 
 Zeph looked up in eager inquiry. 
 
 * Promise me faithfully to come here again 
 in April.' 
 
254 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 'How can you call that doing something 
 for you ? ' she answered. 
 
 ' Because I am very anxious you should 
 come/ said he. 
 
 ' I should so like to ask you to do some- 
 thing,' said she, shyly, after a brief pause ; ' that 
 is, if I could be quite sure you would not mind 
 doing it.' 
 
 ' Ask without fear,' said he kindly. 
 
 ' Have you a picture of your mother ? and 
 if so, would you mind showing it to me ? ' She 
 had felt very timid while she spoke, but she 
 could not have asked him anything which 
 would have pleased him more. 
 
 'I have several,' was his answer. 'Most 
 of them are in London, but I will show you 
 the one I like best.' He went away, but soon 
 returned with a miniature of a very lovely and 
 noble-looking woman with sad but steadfast 
 eyes. 
 
 ' How sweet ! how beautiful ! how dear ! ' 
 said Zeph warmly, and she meant all she said. 
 She looked at the miniature for a long time, 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 255 
 
 and then finding her fingers resting on a very 
 smooth surface behind it, she turned it round 
 and saw a coil of golden brown hair which 
 covered the whole of the back of the miniature, 
 and was held in its place by a sheet of glass. 
 Zeph sighed and looked at him in pitying 
 sympathy. She felt how much he had loved 
 his mother, and how lonely he was now. ' Talk 
 to me a little about her,' she said ; ' that is, if 
 you do not object to doing so.' 
 
 ' Object ! It is a pleasure I never by any 
 chance enjoy. She was simply everything to 
 me, and now that Marmaduke is gone, no one 
 is left who knew her.' He began to describe 
 his life when a boy, and her constant love and 
 kindness. He told Zeph how miserable he 
 and his brother had been when his father 
 suddenly appeared and tore them away from 
 her and the only home they knew ; how 
 they had plotted together to escape if they 
 possibly could, and how when in Paris they 
 had stolen out of the big comfortless hotel and 
 had sold their watches, and so got money 
 
256 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 enough to go back to Geneva and their mother. 
 'She loved my father to the last in spite of 
 everything,' said he. ' I never once heard her 
 say one word against him. She was almost an 
 angel. I only say " almost " to you — I think 
 her quite an angel. She learnt Latin to help 
 us with our lessons. She began to learn Greek 
 with the same object. She went out riding 
 and fishing witli us, and tried to play with us 
 like a boy. That, of course, was when we 
 were little fellows, but she Hved for us as long 
 as she did live/ 
 
 Tears were again stealing into Zeph's eyes. 
 They were partly tears of sympathy, but in 
 some degree they owed their origin to a sudden 
 recognition that she herself had never been so 
 happy. Mrs. Treherne had always been kind 
 to her children, but they had seen so little of 
 her. Sometimes, if there was no shopping to 
 do, she never left the study except at meal- 
 times ; and even at dinner or tea she never sat 
 still for more than a minute or two at a time, 
 but was constantly running backwards and 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 257 
 
 forwards with things for her husband. Zeph 
 was so accustomed to this that until she heard 
 Daylesford describe his mother, she had never 
 been conscious of any shortcomings in the 
 affection shown by hers. ' How nice it would 
 have been to have such a mother as that ! ' 
 she exclaimed almost involuntarily. ' Not that 
 my dear mother is not kind ; only, somehow, I 
 never see her ! ' 
 
 He looked at her as she said this, and once 
 more he pitied her. They had drawn their 
 chairs nearer the lire when they began to talk, 
 and now she was sitting in its warm glow^ 
 Her eyes were fixed on the hearth-rug. He 
 thought he could see the dark fringes of her 
 eyelids quivering on her cheeks. He could 
 watch each change in her face without any fear 
 of being observed, but he hardly dared to look 
 at her, for he had never seen her look so beau- 
 tiful, never liked her so much, and never felt so 
 sorry for her. She had shown a sympathy for 
 his sorrows which had gone far to win his 
 heart ; he could not bear to see her downcast 
 
 VOL. I. s 
 
258 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 face and air of patient sadness. He glanced at 
 tke clock : it was twenty minutes past eleven, 
 and here lie was enjoying a most delightful 
 tete-a-tete^ which he was quite certain the two 
 old people in the hbrary would never dream of 
 interrupting for at least another hour, if then. 
 Well, it was very delicious, and her gentle 
 sympathy made her infinitely charming. She 
 looked up and said, ' I wish you would describe 
 your brother a little more.' 
 
 But just as he was about to enter with 
 hearty good- will on this large subject, she 
 raised her eyes to the clock and saw the 
 time. 
 
 ' Twenty-five minutes past eleven ! ' she 
 exclaimed in alarm, ' I had no idea it was so 
 late ! I really must go to bed. Think of our 
 sitting up so late, when we were dancing till 
 three in the morning! ' 
 
 ' Wait a few minutes longer,' he pleaded. 
 
 ' I really cannot. I am not used to sitting 
 up so late.' ^ 
 
 ' You wouldn't have wanted to go to bed so 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 259 
 
 early as this if we had been at another ball 
 to-night,' said he, rather piqued. 
 
 ' Of course not. I should like to know 
 what one would not do for a ball,' she rephed, 
 all unconscious of his annoyance. 
 
 ' Well, really — but you are right, it is time 
 to have some rest. I wonder whether your 
 father and mother have gone to bed and for- 
 gotten that you are here ? ' 
 
 ' They have forgotten that I am here, but 
 they have not gone to bed. They will not do 
 that till twelve.' 
 
 ' Then I think I shall wait here for them,' 
 said he. 
 
 ' Thank you,' she replied quietly, and went. 
 Just as she was leaving the room she stopped 
 and said, ' Do not sit up too late, Mr. Dayles- 
 ford, for they may very likely never come in 
 here after all, but go straight upstairs. Good 
 night.' And so she went, and there had been 
 something in her unconscious manner that had 
 made it impossible for him to express any more 
 regret at the parting which lay before them, or 
 
 s 2 
 
26o THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 any stronger interest in her than usual. Her 
 last words had much surprised him. Surely 
 she was mistaken. The most careless of 
 parents, the most ardent of antiquaries, could 
 scarcely retire to rest without just taking the 
 trouble to open the door in order to assure 
 himself that he was not keeping a weary 
 daughter waiting for him, or leaving her to sit 
 up as long as she liked, with no other com- 
 panion than her youthful host. He sat by the 
 fire musing, not unhappily, till twenty minutes 
 past twelve, when, just as he too was beginning 
 to feel a strong wish to go to bed, he heard a 
 distant door shut, and then he heard the foot- 
 steps of the worn-out decipherer of manuscripts 
 and his still more weary wife. He could detect 
 fatigue in the dull tread of the two outside 
 quite plainly. 
 
 ' Of course they are coming here,' said he to 
 himself ; ' I knew that there could be no doubt 
 of their doing that.' And he rose to open the 
 door for them. They passed it before he could 
 do so. It happened to open very noiselessly : 
 
WHAT HAS TO BE WILL BE 261 
 
 had it been otherwise, he wondered whether 
 they would have observed him. He was in 
 time to see them walk quietly through the hall. 
 Each had a candle, and the light fell on their 
 grey hair, which in this case certainly did not 
 betoken wisdom. On they went, thoroughly 
 satisfied with the labours of the day, and 
 entirely without a thought of their daughter. 
 She might have been sitting by the fire he had 
 just left, waiting for him to return for a pro- 
 longed conversation — it would have been all 
 the same to Mr. and Mrs. Treherne ! ' And 
 that's the man who said, '* I am most parti- 
 cular about my daughter having a suitable 
 chaperon ! " He is a delightful old man, but 
 he does not deserve to have such a daughter ! 
 And, by the way, he seems to be equally neglect- 
 ful of his other daughters. I have not the least 
 doubt he has left those two rough girls of his in 
 London, with no one to look after them but 
 that little brother of theirs ! People talk about 
 the debt we owe to men of learning, but now I 
 know who pays it 1 ' 
 
262 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 I WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM. 
 
 * To seik het water beneatli cauld ice, 
 Surely it is a great folie.' 
 
 Ballad of Johnnie Armstrong. 
 
 It was a bright frosty morning, and they 
 were to return to London as they had come 
 only three days before. It seemed to Zeph 
 that she had spent weeks at the castle instead 
 of days, and it required a considerable mental 
 effort on her part to replace herself in imagi- 
 nation in the home which she was beginning to 
 forget. She tried to do so once after they had 
 set out on their journey, but failed, and gave up 
 the attempt, for, alas ! she would soon be there, 
 and the work of readjusting herself to her 
 former circumstances would be easy, cruelly 
 easy, when the facts of her home existence 
 thrust themselves before her eyes at every turn 
 
with resolute persistence, and compelled her to 
 realise her position. Besides^ why go to meet 
 coming evil? She was now in a comfortable 
 carriage, warmly enfolded by soft fur rugs ; the 
 sun was shining, and the carriage filled with 
 flowers from the greenhouses, and everything 
 in the shape of fruit that their host could find 
 to give them. She did not feel particularly 
 inclined to talk ; she was thinking that somehow 
 or other, in spite of all the pleasure she had 
 enjoyed at Berkhampstead, she was going home 
 poorer than she came. When she left London 
 she was gladdened by the thought of John's 
 love, and had all but decided to marry him ; 
 but now she had somehow become persuaded 
 that there was no hope of happiness for her if 
 she did this. Had she acted wisely ? She had 
 felt quite able to renounce his love and the life 
 he ofiered her while she was at the castle : 
 would she be equally able to do so when back 
 in Lome Gardens ? She sighed, and wondered 
 much. 
 
 ' Don't sigh,' said Mr. Treherne. 
 
264 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 'No, don't sigh/ echoed Mrs. Treherne. 
 ' We really have been very happy, but ' 
 
 Mr. Daylesford's eyes were fixed on Zeph. 
 Was she feehng sorry to leave ? He hoped so. 
 She saw him looking at her, and said, ' Oh, that 
 is not what I was sighing about — I was think- 
 ing of something quite different.' 
 
 Again she had administered a rebuff, and 
 yet it was not because she was afraid of owning 
 that she was sorry to leave the castle, for she 
 instantly said, ' I might have sighed about leav- 
 ing Berkhampstead if I had happened to be 
 thinking about it — for I too was very happy 
 there.' 
 
 ' So was I,' interrupted Mr. Treherne. ' I 
 never was so happy before ! That muniment- 
 room and that library — not that I ever had 
 time to do more than run my eye over the 
 titles of some of the books — it would require 
 months to appreciate such a collection ! ' 
 
 ' I shall look forward to April,' said Dayles- 
 ford ; ' in April we will all come back ; ' and 
 he looked for an answering indication of 
 
I WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 265 
 
 pleasure from Zeph, or at all events for some 
 show of interest, but she made no such sign. 
 She had retired within herself to take counsel 
 with her own thoughts, for at the mention of 
 this she had remembered that it would be 
 absolutely impossible to come again to a great 
 magnificent castle like Berkhampstead with 
 nothing but a half-worn blue merino, a plain 
 dark-green serge for morning wear, and a poor 
 httle often- washed white muslin for the evening. 
 ' I can make myself look a trifle better by 
 wearing flowers, which fortunately can be had 
 for the asking, and I can change my ribbons 
 and sashes ; but I don't expect I can deceive 
 Mr. Daylesford by that — he will know that it 
 is the same old dress whatever I do. No, if I 
 go again I must have two or three new ones, 
 and how they are to be got I don't know. It 
 is a shame ! ' 
 
 Zeph always reviled Providence for not 
 giving her a well-filled wardrobe. If she had 
 been a plain girl she would not have felt that 
 she had any right to do so, but, as it was, she 
 
266 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 thought herself the victim of an act of injustice. 
 Nature, or Providence, or the power which had 
 so far cared for her well-being as to give her a 
 face which people called pretty, had not the 
 least right to do that if it intended to neutralise 
 its gifts by letting her be so poor that she could 
 never look well. ' The prettiest girl in the 
 world would look ugly if she wore the ill-made 
 dresses and hats that I wear. It's a downright 
 shame ! ' So she mentally exclaimed as they 
 rolled onward over the hard frosty road on 
 which the horses' feet rang so clearly. 
 
 ' We are getting nearer and nearer to 
 London,' observed Mrs. Treherne. Zeph's 
 spirits fell, not because she was ashamed of 
 having a mother who made stupid remarks, 
 but because she disliked going home. 
 
 'I do hate going back,' said she. 
 
 Daylesford was dehghted at this, and was 
 just going to say something, but Mr. Treherne 
 began to tell him a long story about an 
 ancestor of the owner of the property they 
 were now passing through, and he compelled 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 267 
 
 Daylesford to attend to him — never having 
 known what it was not to be attended to since 
 he married. So Zeph fell back on planning 
 ways and means of getting two or three pre- 
 sentable dresses. Gone were her cherished 
 visions of pretty brown velveteens trimmed with 
 fur which might have been afforded her as part 
 of her wedding outfit, and were to have looked 
 so well in thie second master's wife's pew in 
 Alnminster Cathedral. These dreams had been 
 very sweet and pleasant, but all that was over. 
 Now she must be content with such happiness 
 as she could find in Lome Gardens. Perhaps 
 when she arrived there she would find a letter 
 or message from him ; perhaps he might even 
 have stayed in London on purpose to see her. 
 As she thought this her heart seemed to stand 
 still. ' Better not,' she said to herself ; ' much 
 better not.' 
 
 They stopped at a wayside inn to have 
 luncheon, and while it was being got ready the 
 old people sat by the fire, and the young ones 
 walked briskly up and down the road in front 
 
268 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 of the house. Zeph seemed so changed that 
 Daylesford scarcely knew her. Where was the 
 sympathetic friend of the night before ? 
 
 'It's only because I am going back to 
 London,' said she when he reproached her 
 with this. ' I don't like London ; it chills me ! ' 
 
 Daylesford himself would have been chilled 
 in Lome Gardens, and he readily forgave her. 
 
 'I am just the same now as I was last 
 night,' she protested, ' I always shall be. Will 
 you promise to write and tell me if you discover 
 the documents you want ? ' 
 
 'I'll telegraph immediately — no, I will 
 come.' 
 
 ' It would make me very happy to see you 
 come,' said she, ' for then I should know what 
 had happened, and that you had good news to 
 tell me.' 
 
 'Am I not to venture to Lome Gardens 
 until I have good news to tell ? ' he exclaimed. 
 
 ' Oh, I didn't mean that,' she answered 
 humbly, ' but I never thought you would care 
 to come to our poor little house ! ' 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 269 
 
 ' I go to see people, not houses,' he replied, 
 and she felt rebuked. And yet it was a hor- 
 rible little house, and she could not imagine 
 him in it! He was afraid he had answered 
 her sharply, and added, ' You may be quite sure 
 that I shall wish to see you.' He wondered 
 why she did not express some polite pleasure at 
 the prospect of a visit from him. She, much as 
 she liked him, was so appalled at the idea of 
 seeing him set foot in that galere, that she was 
 capable of nothing but a rapid mental review 
 of steps, passage, stairs, drawing-room, and 
 every object likely to strike his eye unplea- 
 santly while making his way from the entrance 
 of the house to what was by courtesy called 
 the drawing-room. The steps which led up 
 to the front door were high, and there were 
 thirteen of them ; the oil-cloth in the passage 
 was worn out in places, and of a very vulgar 
 pattern. The walls were covered with a paper 
 imitation of Sienna marble, now somewhat in- 
 jured and dirty ; the staircase was narrow and 
 dark. Alas ! what was there in the whole 
 
270 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 house that was not dark, or dirty, or vulgar F 
 ' Perhaps I am vulgar myself for thmking that 
 he will ever trouble himself about such things 
 when he comes to see us,' thought Zeph, with 
 a sudden perception of the exact truth, ' but I 
 cannot help it.' 
 
 ' Don't you wish me to come to see you ? ' 
 he asked, for her manner was anything but 
 encouraging. 
 
 ' Oh, don't imagine that,' she exclaimed 
 eagerly. He had been very kind to her, and 
 not for worlds would she have hurt his feelings. 
 ' I am only thinking how miserable our house 
 will seem to you.' 
 
 ' I don't beheve it will ; I am certain it will 
 not if you are at home.' 
 
 ' Perhaps we had better go back to the inn,' 
 said she, and he wondered why she thought so. 
 
 They did go back, and very soon they were 
 on their way again ; but the second half of the 
 journey was by no means so pleasant as the 
 first, for the suburbs of London seemed to have 
 moved out into the country to meet them, and 
 
/ WISH YOU BAD SEEN HIM 271 
 
 they passed through a never-ending succession 
 of rows of ugly houses. Zeph shut her eyes 
 and pretended to be tired. After about an 
 hour more of this they would come to her own 
 home, which was only a few degrees superior 
 to tliose which bordered the road now, Mr. 
 Daylesford was loud in his expression of horror 
 of these ; he would be silent when he reached 
 Lome Gardens ; but she would know what was 
 passing through his mind. However, that pain 
 was spared her, for when they reached a cab- 
 stand about a mile from De Manvers Town, 
 Daylesford, who had for some time been occa- 
 sionally consulting his watch, said something 
 about having an engagement which he must 
 keep, and hurried off in a hansom, leaviug the 
 Trehernes to pursue their way alone. 
 
 'That is a most agreeable and friendly 
 young man,' observed Mr. Treherne. ' JSTot at 
 all intellectual, but certainly intelligent.' 
 
 ' No, not at all intellectual,' repeated Mrs. 
 Treherne, who really was not quite in a position 
 to have an opinion on that point. 
 
272 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Here we are ! ' exclaimed Zeph joyously ; 
 after all, she was rather pleasantly excited by 
 the home-coming. ' I do hope Jack is in. 
 Yes, dear fellow, there he is at the window.' 
 
 Jack ran into the street bare-headed, Polly 
 and Aggy came tumbling downstairs in such 
 haste that their back hair rolled down. Zeph 
 reeled under the fervour of their embrace, but 
 she liked it. 
 
 ' Oh, how glad we are to see you all back 
 again ! ' said Aggy ; ' but you have come half 
 an hour before we anticipated you, or we would 
 have had things more ready.' 
 
 ' We are awfully glad to see you,' echoed 
 Polly. 'We thought we should like being 
 mistresses of the house, but really and truly, 
 if we had not been so desperately busy, we 
 should have been just lost in dulness, that we 
 should ! ' 
 
 Mr. Treherne had never before reahsed 
 how deficient his younger daughters were in 
 all graces of style. ' My dear,' said he to his 
 wife, drawing her into the study, ' you ought to 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 273 
 
 teach those girls of yours to speak correctly ; 
 it is trying to the ear.' 
 
 ' But when do I see them, poor things ? ' 
 said. Lirs. Treherne. 'I am always in the 
 study.' 
 
 ' That may be, but it is a mother's duty to 
 train her daughters to be ladies. You do not 
 seem to have succeeded in that with those two. 
 Zeph is better.' 
 
 In reahty Zeph was very little better. She 
 was somewhat more ladyhke naturally, and she 
 said less; but the principal reason she spoke 
 better was that she made fewer excursions into 
 the less accessible parts of theEnghsh languao-e. 
 Polly and Aggy were very fond of using words 
 they did not understand. In the meantime 
 Zeph had kissed her Jack and gone upstairs. 
 She had known that the house was small before, 
 but she was simply amazed at the extremity of 
 its smaUness now — it seemed no bigger than a 
 nutshell. Polly and Aggy went upstairs with 
 her, loudly entreating her to tell them all she 
 had done. 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' Tell me something first,' said she. * Has 
 
 have you heard anything of John 
 
 Simonds ? ' 
 
 ' What sort of thing ? ' 
 
 ' Has he been here ? ' 
 
 'Ko.' 
 
 ' Has he sent any note ? ' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Any message ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' And you say that you have heard nothing 
 of him ? ' 
 
 ' Wait till you have heard what we have 
 been doing while you have been away, and 
 then you will see that we could have heard 
 nothing. You knew before you went away 
 that he was to go back to his pupils — I forget 
 when.' 
 
 ' And is he gone ? ' 
 
 'Most likely. Never mind about John 
 Simonds now, Zeph. Tell us all about the 
 castle. Fancy your living three days in a 
 jeal castle ! You might just have written to 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 275 
 
 each of us once, with your address printed at 
 the top of your note-paper. We could have 
 shown it to every one we knew : I do so wish 
 Mr. Daylesford had been a lord — it would 
 have sounded so grand to say " Zeph has been 
 staying with Lord Berkhampstead." ' 
 
 Zeph had seated herself on the time- 
 honoured black box ; her two sisters had 
 placed themselves on the floor by her side. 
 There was no warm fire, no easy chair — she 
 was once more at home. She told them all 
 about the ball, the castle, the state apartments, 
 pictures, gardens, everything. They listened in 
 awe-struck delight, only interposing a certain 
 number of appreciative ejaculations. Evening 
 was stealing on them — not unperceived, alas! 
 for what could one small candle, which some 
 one lighted with a very ill-smelling match, do 
 to hide that fact ? At last all was told, and 
 Polly said kindly, ' It must seem horribly 
 strange to you, Zeph, to come back to this 
 place after seeing things so well kept and nice!' 
 Zeph shook her head, and tears filled her eyes 
 
 T 2 
 
2/6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 — even the scullery-maid at the castle had a 
 better room than hers. 
 
 ' It's no use worrying about what can't be 
 helped,' said Aggy ; ' let's tell Zeph our goings- 
 on, Polly. We have not been going through 
 such a magnificent phase of existence as she 
 has, but we have had some fun. Eun of a kind 
 that you would never have dreamed of, Zeph ; 
 in fact, you would not have had anything to do 
 with it if you had dreamed of it ; but we liked 
 it. Oh, Zeph, we have been living in such a 
 comical way ! ' 
 
 Zeph expressed some uneasiness — she was 
 rather afraid of their fun. 
 
 ' We have done nothing any one need find 
 fault with — we have just had some fun, that's 
 all. We planned it directly after you were all 
 gone, and we lost no time in carrying out our 
 plan. Come into our room, and you shall see 
 the result. Be quick, before that candle burns 
 down.' 
 
 Zeph went into their room, and saw two 
 new dresses of dark bluish-grey colour thickly 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 277 
 
 covered with crimson spots as large as a 
 shilling. One was hanging on Polly's peg, 
 and one on Aggy's. Every brass-headed nail 
 in the walls of this room belonged exclusively 
 either to one sister or the other ; otherwise 
 disputes might have arisen. 
 
 'We had been awfully in love with that 
 stuff for quite a month,' said Aggy feelingly. 
 ' Polly had a pattern of it in her purse, and we 
 were always pulling it out to have a look at it. 
 We did not show it to you, for we did not 
 want to hear you cry out that it was ugly — 
 you always do call everything we admire ugly, 
 you know. We began to save up our money 
 to buy it, but we only got a few shillings to- 
 gether, and it was twelve and sixpence the 
 dress, so we did not see how we were ever to 
 manage to buy enough for two. When mother 
 was going away on Tuesday morning she came 
 to Polly and said ' 
 
 ' I really do think you might just as well let 
 me have the telling of what she said myself,' 
 exclaimed Polly. ' You were not there to hear 
 
278 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 her! — I'll tell you, Zepli. She said, "Now, 
 Polly, I am going away, and you are not used 
 to housekeeping, so I am afraid you will make 
 some mistakes ; but whatever you do, you must 
 not run up big bills for me — here is a pound. 
 You may spend that while we are away, but you 
 must pay ready money for all you buy. Make 
 it do till Friday ; and if you have anything over, 
 you and Aggy may divide it between you — 
 that will teach you to be economical." ' 
 
 ' Well, in a moment we had a great, big, 
 good idea,' interrupted Aggy. ' It was my 
 idea, Polly, so it is no business of yours to tell 
 about it. We resolved to save nearly every 
 penny of the money and put it to what we had 
 saved already ; to pick our old checked dresses 
 to pieces for a pattern, and make the new ones 
 ourselves! Wasn't it a splendid idea? So 
 Polly went downstairs and told the servants 
 that if they liked they might both have a holi- 
 day till Friday morning, and off they went to 
 their homes, only too glad. Then I went out 
 and bought the two dresses, and Polly went to 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 279 
 
 see how much food there was in the larder, for 
 we were determined not to bother ourselves witli 
 cooking or providing, and we haven't.' 
 
 'You might have a right to starve your- 
 selves,' exclaimed Zeph, ' but you had no right 
 to starve Jack. It's too- bad if you did.' 
 
 ' We didn't. There was good cold beef 
 in the larder, which lasted him two days, and 
 the next day we made him accept an invita- 
 tion to dine with a schoolfellow, and to-day 
 Polly cooked him a mutton chop. She went 
 out and chose it herself, and toasted it for him 
 on a fork at the drawing-room fire. He has 
 been well fed, and so have we, though we 
 have eaten nothing but bread-and-butter and 
 jam. And so now we have those lovely, 
 lovely dresses ! ' 
 
 ' But how did you do the work of the 
 house ? ' 
 
 ' We didn't allow the house to have any 
 work ! ' said Aggy. ' There was none ! We 
 never so much as went into the kitchen except 
 to fetch something. We never opened any 
 
28o THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 of the downstairs shutters, or lighted any of 
 the fires, or did anything of that kind. We 
 sat in the drawing-room and boiled a kettle 
 there, and made our tea when we wanted it, 
 and ate our bread-and-butter, or jam — apricot 
 jam it was, Zeph : we did go to that expense 
 — and we worked away like galley slaves at 
 our dresses, only every stitch that we put in was 
 a pleasure. And how we did laugh and sing ! ' 
 
 Zeph secretly wished that the dresses had 
 been prettier. They were too striking, but 
 her sisters' taste ran for the moment in that 
 direction. 
 
 ' They are sweet ! ' said PolJy, patting her 
 dress. 
 
 ' They are just lovely ! ' murmured Aggy, 
 stroking hers. 
 
 ' But you must often have been hungry ? ' 
 objected Zeph. 
 
 ' No, we have had food enough,' said they ; 
 'we have really enjoyed ourselves, and we 
 have cleared away all our pins and threads 
 and clippings, for we knew you would scold.' 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 281 
 
 ' But wliat can people have thought ? ' 
 
 ' That we were away, if they thought at all. 
 I wish we had hung a card to the knocker 
 with " Gone to Berkhampstead Castle " on it.' 
 
 ' But what would you have done if any 
 of our friends had come to call ? Suppose 
 you had heard a loud double knock at the 
 door, one of you would not have liked to 
 open it.' 
 
 ' Of course not.' 
 
 ' What would you have done ? ' 
 
 ' What we did do — take no notice. There 
 were some knocks and rings, but as Aggy and 
 I did not want to go to the door we sat still 
 and minded our work, and when the people 
 outside got tired of knocking they went away.' 
 
 ' Polly, how you do exaggerate ! There 
 was only one person came.' 
 
 ' Who was it ? ' asked Zeph quickly. 
 
 ' We don't know. We were half inclined 
 to peep, but we were afraid of being seen, and 
 we were so busy.' 
 
 ' It may have been John Simonds,' thought 
 
282 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 Zeph, and then she took courage and said so ; 
 but they could tell her nothing. 
 
 The family tea was a plainer meal than 
 dinner at the castle, and there was no occasion 
 to dress for it. Mr. Treherne at once fell 
 back into his old way of living, and shut 
 himself up in his study with his work and his 
 wife. The girls drew their chairs to the fire 
 in the drawing-room, and sat there alone. 
 Zeph was very silent. 
 
 ' I do believe you have refused John 
 Simonds ! ' said Polly at last, ' and that you 
 neither like accepting him nor refusing him 
 when it comes to the point/ 
 
 ' That's just it, I believe,' said Aggy. 
 
 ' Perhaps,' replied Zeph, whose heart was 
 softer than usual. On another occasion she 
 would have resented this intrusion on her 
 secrets. 
 
 ' Oh, Zeph, he is very nice. Why don't 
 you take him, dear,- and get away from here?* 
 said Polly. 
 
 Zeph shook her head. 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 283 
 
 ' You ahva3^s liked him, I'm sure.' 
 
 ' I like him still, but I cannot bring myself 
 to marry him.' 
 
 ' I wonder why not ? ' said Polly. 
 
 ' I don't want to marry any one to have to 
 live as I am living now, but I am afraid he is 
 very unhappy. I wish you had seen him, and 
 could have told me how he was looking.' 
 
 ' If you don't care for him, I don't see why 
 you need mind how he looks,' said Aggy, who 
 was much the most practical of the three 
 sisters. 
 
 ' I never said I did not care for him,' 
 rephed Zeph tartly, but Aggy for once made 
 no sharp rejoinder, for she could see that 
 Zeph's eyes were full of tears. Polly saw it 
 too, and they all sat without speaking for a 
 long time. The two younger girls were 
 astonished to see the proud and lofty Zeph 
 brought so low. They did not know how to 
 deal with her present mood. She had always 
 kept them so much at a distance that they 
 were afraid of showing any sympathy lest she 
 
284 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 turned on them and crushed them by a sarcasm 
 as of old ; and so poor Zeph, whose heart was 
 very sad and spirit very humble, sat fretting 
 about her lost lover and love, and feeling many 
 a bitter pang of regret at the past, and appre- 
 hension of the loneliness of the days which lay 
 before her. At last Polly and Aggy could 
 bear it no longer, and made signs to each other 
 and stole away. They felt utterly unable to 
 speak to Zeph as they would have liked to do, 
 and crept off to their own room, where the 
 sight of the two new dresses soon drove their 
 woebegone sister out of their thoughts. 
 
 As soon as they were upstairs. Jack, who 
 had been watching his opportunity to speak to 
 Zeph alone, went quietly into the room, and 
 sat down beside her, staring anxiously at her 
 wet eyes and sad face. ' Zeph,' said he, ' if 
 you have sense enough to cry at what you 
 have done, I'll just speak to you, I think. I 
 know all about it.' 
 
 ' You know all about what .^ ' she asked. 
 
 ' About you and John. I saw him before 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 285 
 
 he went away. I knew nothing about what 
 had happened of course, and went home with 
 Frank Simonds, and I soon found out what 
 you had been doing to him ; by the way John 
 talked to me — he didn't say much, you know, 
 but I guessed.' 
 
 Zeph looked at her small brother in great 
 astonishment. 
 
 ' Would you like to hear the message he 
 sent you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' He said that I was to tell you he had 
 received your letter, but that he did not 
 beheve it was written by your true self — that's 
 all — at least it's all that part.' 
 
 ' What else was there ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, afterwards I suppose he was afraid I 
 should forget what he wanted to say to you, 
 and he said he would write a short note and I 
 was to give it to you when you came home, so 
 here it is, and I've done it ; but I must say 
 this — if you have behaved ill to him, Zeph, as 
 I expect you have, it's a great shame, for he's 
 
286 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 awfully fond of you ! No, you need not go 
 kissing me like that, Zeph. I do think it is a 
 shame, and I always shall ! ' 
 
 Zeph did not speak — even this child was 
 against her. 
 
 ' And it's not as if he were cross and unkind 
 about what you have done : his mother is — 
 but he is not. He did not say one unkind 
 word. He is awfully fond of you ! ' 
 
 ' What did his mother say ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know — at least I do know, but I'm 
 not going to repeat it. Besides, her speeches 
 are of no consequence ; he said nothing bad. 
 Here is your note. Be a good girl, Zeph.' 
 
 Jack went to bed, and Zeph opened the 
 note and read : ' I cannot accept your answer 
 as final. It is impossible that you should have 
 changed so suddenly. Be your own true self 
 once more and write to me, as you have led me 
 to expect you would. I shall be in Norfolk 
 with my pupils when you receive this. Write 
 to me there. Dear Zeph, do write. If you do 
 not write within three days, I shall know that 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 287 
 
 all is over; but I have loved you all my 
 life.' 
 
 'It would be weakness to write,' thought 
 Zeph, ' but what would I give to do so ! No, 
 the struggle is over ! I have fought the good 
 fight, and I will not undo all that I have 
 done ! ' 
 
 She might have fought the fight, but she 
 had not won the victory. She could not over- 
 come her love for him. She longed to write 
 and say that all should be as he wished, but 
 she knew if she did she should regret it. She 
 sat struggling with her heart's desire till long 
 after midnight. Never had she gone through 
 such ancfuish of doubt and bewilderment. ' I 
 am in no state to judge now,' she thought. ' I 
 ought to keep to what I said when my head 
 was calm. That is the only safe thing to do.' 
 She sat trying to harden her heart till half an 
 hour past midnight, when Mrs. Treherne came 
 noiselessly into the room on her way to bed. 
 
 ' You up still, Zeph ! ' said she. ' How 
 wrong ! ' She came farther into the room, and 
 
288 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 the light of her candle fell on Zeph's haggard, 
 pale face. 'My darling, how wretchedly ill 
 you look ! I never saw any one look so ill in 
 my life ! ' 
 
 ' Mother,' exclaimed Zeph rather wildly, 
 ' do you at all remember your life before you 
 were married ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I do, dear ; why not ? ' 
 
 'Do you ever by any chance think that you 
 would have been happier unmarried ? ' 
 
 ' It depends on what you call happier. I 
 had a very pleasant quiet home ; ' and as she 
 spoke a smile at the recollection of the tranquil 
 half-forgotten old house passed over the poor 
 old lady's face. 'AH was pretty, and I had 
 not a care in the world. That was very nice — 
 very ; but then if I had stayed in it I should 
 not have had your dear father to love and look 
 after. No, I never wish myself unmarried. 
 Women were made to live for other people, 
 as I do ; and if they don't do it they are not 
 happy.' 
 
 ' Then I am afraid I don't quite want to be 
 
/ WISH YOU HAD SEEN HIM 289 
 
 happy,' said Zeph, kissing her poor mother's 
 pale face. ' You are a dear good woman, 
 mother, and I love you ; ' and so saying, she lit 
 her candle from her mother's, and the two 
 went to bed. Thus was Zeph's fate for life 
 decided, and yet her mother's words • did not 
 play the part in the decision that Zeph would 
 fain have ascribed to them. They simply 
 chimed in with a resolution already taken. She 
 had been sitting for hours waiting and hoping 
 for some wind to blow the bark of her destiny 
 where it was well for it to go, and yet she was 
 all the time rowing it vigorously onw^ards to 
 the goal where she most wished to be. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
290 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ON THE BLACK BOX. 
 
 I question things, and do not find 
 One that will answer to my mind, 
 And all the world appears unkind. 
 
 WOKBSWOETH. 
 
 What dull days succeeded that on which Zeph 
 returned home! One black fog followed 
 another, and when there was not a fog there 
 was rain, with an atmosphere through which 
 the sun never pierced. She did not particu- 
 larly care to go out, so she did not mourn the 
 loss of fine weather on that account, but her 
 spirits sank to zero. She had nothing to do, 
 nothing to take an interest in, nothing to think 
 of that was pleasant. She had driven away 
 the man who loved her, and would probably 
 never see him again. There was no one to see 
 whom she cared about : even Mr. Daylesford 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 291 
 
 had never come to pay that much- talked -of 
 visit. What was she to do to employ her time ? 
 Polly and Aggy wearied her — they never came 
 near without boring her by expecting her to 
 hsten to lonp^ lamentations about its being 
 such bad weather just when they had got new 
 dresses and wanted to show them. ' Are you 
 not going to see about some new things ? ' said 
 they. ' You are asked to go back to Berk- 
 hampstead in a week or two — you surely want 
 something new ? ' 
 
 ' What's the use of providing what is never 
 likely to be wanted ? ' replied Zeph. ' Mr. 
 Daylesford will forget that he has invited us — 
 most likely he has forgotten already/ 
 
 ' Well, I'd be prepared all the same,' said 
 Aggy. ' He might send a letter about it quite 
 suddenly, and then you would not be able to 
 go. I have an idea, Zeph.' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' she asked listlessly ; she did 
 not care for anything. 
 
 ' You say that you wore an old-fashioned 
 dress when you were at the castle, and that it 
 
 u 2 
 
292 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 was much admired ; but Mr. Daylesford is not 
 tlie only person who has old dresses ! You 
 seem to have forgotten what a lot mother has. 
 Don't you remember her showing us a whole 
 boxful once when she wanted to see if any of 
 them would cut up for herself, and father com- 
 ing to look at them and saying that they were 
 "highly curious," and that they were on no 
 account to be cut up or altered ? It's years 
 ago — you may know that by father's coming 
 out of his room, for he never does that now ; 
 but I remember them quite well ; though I 
 hate such ugly old things myself. They 
 belonged to her mother, and her grandmother, 
 and her great-aunts — sad frights they must 
 have looked in them, poor things ; but the 
 silks are thick and handsome. I expect the 
 Seatons were somebodies.' 
 
 ' I expect they were,' said Zeph, much 
 soothed bv this new thouc^ht. ' I don't believe 
 we think half enough of ourselves and our pedi- 
 gree. Father's family w^as a very good one, I 
 know, and mother's must have been good too.' 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 293 
 
 ' Of course it was. You may see that in 
 our appearance and manner,' said Polly loftily ; 
 but Aggy looked at her broad good-tempered 
 face and burst out laughing, and Zeph felt that 
 somehow there was a flaw in the evidence. 
 However, they got the key of the box from 
 their mother the next time they saw her, and 
 disinterred half a dozen lovely old silk and 
 satin dresses. Polly and Aggy would not have 
 been seen in them for any consideration — they 
 never liked to wear anything that was not 
 entirely modern, and as they fondly hoped 
 fashionable because they saw its counterpart in 
 suburban shop windows ; but Zeph was of 
 another mind. She selected a peach-coloured 
 silk and a sea-green one, which by the addition 
 of a few folds of Indian muslin made her ex- 
 quisite dresses ; and what was still more 
 delightful to her, she found shoes, gloves, and 
 fans which matched these old-world fineries, 
 lying neatly packed with them. When they 
 were arranged by Zeph's deft fingers these 
 dresses were perfect. This discovery removed 
 
294 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 one heavy weight from her spirits and burdened 
 them with another. What would it profit her 
 to have rich and softly tinted dresses if Mr. 
 Daylesford had changed his mind and did not 
 intend to let her father and mother and herself 
 go to the castle ? 
 
 ' I expect he has quite given up the idea/ 
 said she to Polly. 
 
 ' I wonder ! ' said Polly thoughtfully. ' I 
 don't suppose he has, but why doesn't he 
 come ? ' 
 
 ' At any rate, he might ask you all to dine 
 with him at that nice house of his in Ambas- 
 sadors' Gate. He does have people to dine 
 with him, you know,' said Aggy. 
 
 That idea had never occurred to Zeph. 
 She was silent for a minute or two, and then 
 said, ' I don't think we ought to expect that ; 
 he only asks us to Berkhampstead out of kind- 
 ness to father. It would be very unreasonable 
 to expect him to invite us to his London 
 house.' 
 
 ' Well, if old Mrs. Simonds is right — spite- 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 295 
 
 ful old thing that she is — we may expect that 
 as much as we hke, but he won't do it ! ' 
 
 ' What has she to do with it ? What can 
 she know about him ? What did she say ? ' 
 
 ' She said your head was turned with being 
 asked to Berkhampstead, and that's why you 
 had behaved so shamefully to her John, but 
 that you would live to find out what a mistake 
 you had made, and that Mr. Daylesford might 
 invite you to stay with him in the country, but 
 that you would not find him so ready to open 
 his door to you in London.' 
 
 ' Did she mean that we were not good 
 enough? The castle is a far grander place 
 than the London house ! ' 
 
 ' I don't know what she did mean, Zeph. 
 She was very unkind and disagreeable, and she 
 didn't get half the bad things said that she 
 wanted to say, for I came away and left her. 
 I do wish Mr. Daylesford would ask you all to 
 the London house, just to show her she was 
 wrong.' 
 
 Mr. Daylesford did not invite them, and a 
 
296 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 month and more went by without one word 
 from him. Zeph had by means of her mother's 
 treasures equipped herself entirely to her own 
 satisfaction. No one could have had prettier 
 or more becoming dresses, but what a grievous 
 thing it was that both she and they would have 
 to go on wearing away their beauty unseen and 
 unknown ! She did not altogether mourn Mr. 
 Daylesford's continued absence for his own 
 sake. She liked him, and would have seen 
 him with jfleasure ; but what she did grieve 
 over, and most bitterly, was that the gate lead- 
 ing straight into the joys of the great world, a 
 gate which he had seemed so willing to fling 
 open before her, was now for ever to be closed. 
 If he withheld his kindness, her future was a 
 blank ! Had he really forgotten her existence ? 
 If he had, that existence was not worth having ; 
 and she sat hour after hour on her black box 
 tormenting herself with this thought. 
 
 ' Zeph is moping horribly ! ' said Agnes. 
 ' I think she is fretting about the way that Mr. 
 Daylesford is behaving. I do wonder he does 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 297 
 
 not call. I think she is a little bit in love with 
 him.' 
 
 ' She is not ! I am certain she is not ! She 
 may be in love with his nice house and nice 
 things, and she likes going to Berkhampstead, 
 but that's all It is John she is in love with, 
 if she is in love v/ith anybody.' 
 
 Thus pitifully bare to the household were 
 Zeph's sentiments, and thus was she, the high- 
 minded daughter of the house (as she fondly 
 beheved), judged by the two she sometimes 
 affected to despise. 
 
 ' Let us send her to do the errand father 
 has given us. I dare say it would please her,' 
 said Aggy. 
 
 So Polly went to her and said, 'Zeph, 
 mother has found a gold seal of Mr. Dayles- 
 ford's in father's waistcoat pocket. Father 
 must have used it, I suppose, and put it into 
 his pocket by mistake. He wants some of us 
 to take it back to Mr. Daylesford. Will you 
 go ? You and Jack could walk there together 
 — it is his holiday morning.' 
 
298 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' If you like,' said Zeph, ' I don't mind 
 going.' 
 
 ' Did she seem pleased ? ' inquired Agnes ; 
 but Zeph had shown no sign of pleasure, and 
 their curiosity was unsatisfied. The truth 
 was, she felt no pleasure. She did feel a little 
 sad, though, as she walked with Jack to leave 
 the seal and a note of apology written in her 
 father's pretty handwriting and sealed with the 
 Treherne coat of arms. Zeph was glad the 
 Trehernes had a coat of arms and undoubted 
 right to use it. She knew her father was too 
 devout an antiquary to use it unless he had an 
 absolutely incontrovertible right to do so. ' I 
 dare say,' thought she, 'Mr. Daylesford was 
 kind to us and took us all to Berkhampstead out 
 of charity, just ae people take workhouse 
 children out for days in the country. Well, 
 that coat of arms looks quite as good as his. 
 We may be poor, but we come of a good 
 family, and I am awfully glad of it ; but I wish 
 he had never taken us up at all if he only in- 
 tended to drop us directly.' 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 299 
 
 They walked on briskly, for it was so damp 
 and cold. Jack was talkative, and found Zeph 
 dull. ' You are not half such good fun to go 
 out walking with as you used to be,' said he 
 plaintively. ' What is the matter ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing is the matter ! ' she answered 
 almost sharply. She knew that he was a 
 strong partisan of John's, and did not want him 
 to begin to talk on that subject. 
 
 'I know exactly what's making you so 
 glum and different ; you ' 
 
 ' Jack, be quiet,' said Zeph. ' You are a 
 little boy, and cannot possibly understand such 
 subjects! ' 
 
 ' If you don't choose to talk to me on such 
 subjects when you have them of your own, I 
 won't talk to you about any of mine when I 
 have them — I shall have love affairs some day, 
 Zeph.' 
 
 To tliis not very lucid speech Zeph an- 
 swered, 'Wait till the time comes. You are 
 sure to tell me when it does.' 
 
 * Zeph, he did not look a bit the same : he 
 
300 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 was white, and looked as hard as well, as 
 
 hard as hard could be.* 
 
 Zeph walked on quickly and got a few yards 
 in front of Jack. She had not come out to be 
 made miserable by hearing how John Simonds 
 looked. Besides, as she always told herself, he 
 was not the only one who was miserable. If she 
 herself had been happy and gay it would have 
 been quite right that she should be forced to 
 listen. Jack ran after her and said, ' Zeph, I 
 won't say any more, but it is a shame of you 
 to do it ! ' 
 
 When they came to Ambassadors' Gate she 
 told him to run on and give the note and the 
 box with the seal in it to the servant who came 
 when he rang. She herself did not go beyond 
 J^umber One. It was daylight, and she was 
 afraid of being seen, for Mr. Daylesford might 
 be somewhere near. 
 
 While Jack was waiting for the servant, a 
 very small boy with a cardboard box in his 
 hand came to her and said, ' Please, ma'am, do 
 you know if this is Battledore's Place ? ' 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 301 
 
 ' Do you mean Ambassadors' Gate ? ' she 
 asked. 
 
 ' I don't know — perhaps that's it,' said he, 
 fumbhng with the box, and turning it round 
 and round while trying to decipher an address 
 which he was obviously unable to read. Zeph 
 looked at it over his shoulder to see if she could 
 help him, and read, ' Mrs. Daylesford, 11 Am- 
 bassadors' Gate.' Mrs. Daylesford ! She was 
 strangely startled. His mother was dead — 
 she knew that ; so he was married ! That, 
 then, was why he had not been to see them. 
 He was certainly not married when they were 
 at the castle with him, for he always spoke of 
 himself as entirely alone in the world, with no 
 one to care for him but a brother who hved 
 thousands of miles away. He had married after 
 his return to London, and that was why he had 
 not been to see them, and that too was why 
 he never would come ; and as these thoughts 
 careered through her mind Zeph was conscious 
 that the warm blood was rushing into her 
 cheeks — she felt it tinghng there, and knew 
 
302 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 that she was blushing violently. 'It is that 
 house where you see a little boy standing in 
 the portico/ said she hastily, to get rid of the 
 errand-boy, for she felt ashamed that even this 
 small boy should see her surprise. ' Inquire at 
 that house, and then I think you will find it is 
 all right.' Never before this moment had she 
 admitted to herself that there had been any- 
 thing especially noticeable in Daylesford's man- 
 ner towards herself. Now a rush of sudden 
 consciousness made it clear to her that somehow 
 he had behaved in such a way as made it al- 
 most wrong for him to be married. He must 
 even then have been engaged. Her pride came 
 to her rescue at once. She had never felt one 
 moment's love for this man : why should she 
 care whether he was married or not .^ ' Why, 
 indeed ? ' she repeated, drawing herself up. 
 
 ' I have done it,' said Jack, running back 
 to her. ' I say, what awfully pretty red cheeks 
 you have got ! Zeph, 1 never saw them half 
 so red ! ' 
 
 They grew even redder at this speech, and 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 303 
 
 then she saw the boy with the box in parley 
 with the footman who had just taken Jack's 
 Httle packet and letter from him. Whatever 
 the man said, he kept possession of the box, 
 and carried it into the house with him. Now 
 the door was shut and the boy was coming 
 quickly towards her empty-handed. 
 
 ' Stop till I ask that boy if I directed him 
 right,* said Zeph. ' Was that the right house, 
 boy ? ' she asked. 
 
 'Yes, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Does the — the person the parcel was for 
 live there ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the boy, who did not seem able 
 to spare a second ' ma'am,' and passed on. 
 
 ' What is the matter, Zeph .^ ' How queer 
 you look ! ' • 
 
 ' I don't ! ' repHed Zeph almost angrily. 
 ' Why should I ? We have done what we 
 were sent out to do — come home.' 
 
 Jack was afraid from this that the walk was 
 going to be very dull, but she talked the whole 
 way and he was happy. 
 
304 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' That woman won't want us in her house,' 
 she thought. ' Father may perhaps be allowed 
 to make catalogues and arrange papers, but it is 
 not at all likely that she will care to have three 
 people whom she does not know or want to 
 know staying for weeks together with her — so 
 that pleasure is lost ! ' 
 
 Zeph was heavy at heart. She had been 
 offered a magnificent chance of escaping for a 
 while from the lowly life in Lome Gardens, and 
 just as she was hoping to avail herself of this 
 chance it was rudely snatched from her. ' He 
 must have been engaged when we were there ! ' 
 she repeated ; ' but Mrs. Scatcherd cannot have 
 known it, or she would have told me. I 
 should like to know his bride's name.' 
 
 She went to a news-agent's ofiice near home, 
 and asked to be allowed to search the back 
 numbers of the Times for the last ^nq weeks, 
 and having carefully read all the marriages 
 during that time, without finding any of which 
 Mr. Daylesford had been the hero, she was 
 certain that the wedding could not have taken 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 305 
 
 place so recently. Then he had been married 
 all the time she had known him ! There was 
 no reason why he should not, but she never 
 should have guessed it. 
 
 An hour or tw^o later, when Zeph was 
 sitting on her black box pondering over these 
 things, Agnes ran upstairs so quickly that she 
 could hardly speak, to tell her that Mr. Dayles- 
 ford was in the drawing-room, and that it was 
 very lucky there was a fire. 
 
 ' Who is with him ? ' 
 
 'No one. You are to go down and say 
 father is coming directly. Mother told me to 
 tell you. She is just putting him into his best 
 coat, she says.' 
 
 Zeph rose reluctantly. If Mr. Daylesford 
 was going to cheat her out of her visit to 
 Berkhampstead, and all that that visit implied 
 of gaiety and pleasure, she did not think she 
 particularly wanted to see him. As she slowly 
 descended the stairs she composed a subtly 
 arranged sentence which she hoped would 
 bring out the truth. 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
3c6 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' How are you ? ' said he, coining eagerly 
 forward and looking mucli pleased to see 
 her. 
 
 ' Perfectly well, thank you ; ' and then she 
 launched her sentence, ' Do tell ine if anything 
 of importance has happened to you since I saw 
 you last ? ' 
 
 He took this with perfect calmness, and said 
 very quietly, ' Nothing ; I wish it were other- 
 wise. I suppose you refer to the one thing in 
 which I am most interested ? ' 
 
 ' Then, nothing has happened ? And have 
 you done anything particular since I last had 
 the pleasure of seeing you ? ' 
 
 ' Absolutely nothing ! I have just led the 
 ordinary hum-drum life of a British citizen ; my 
 existence has been entirely uneventful. I ought 
 to have come to see you before, but you know 
 how time slips away.' 
 
 Zeph didn't. Time never slipped away with 
 her, and she was inclined to resent his words ; 
 but, after all, so long as he did not forget that 
 he had invited them to pay him a long visit in 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 307 
 
 April they had no right to blame him for not 
 coming to see them before. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Treherne now appeared. He 
 had been swept and garnished. She had not 
 had time to improve her own appearance, but 
 her husband had insisted on her coming 
 upstairs with him. 
 
 ' Father's note of the morning has brought 
 us back to Mr. Daylesford's mind,' thought 
 Zeph, ' that's all — he had forgotten us I ' 
 
 But no : he at once said, ' How is the book 
 getting on, Mr. Treherne ? You recollect your 
 promise, I hope .^ April will be here in a day 
 or two. You promised to come back to Berk- 
 hampstead in April, and to bring Mrs. and Miss 
 Treherne with you ; ' and so saying he included 
 the mother and daughter in a well-distributed 
 bow, making them both richer by the sight of 
 a smile so kindly and pleasant that it was im- 
 possible not to feel the happier for it. 
 
 ' Oh, indeed I have not forgotten,' replied 
 Mr. Treherne. 'I should like to know how I 
 could forget such a delightful invitation ; but it 
 
 X 2 
 
3o8 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 will be May, I am afraid, before I can say that 
 my book is really out of my hands.' 
 
 ' Then let it be May. Come when you like, 
 my dear sir ; but the sooner the better.' 
 
 Zeph heard this with dismay, for her green 
 serge, on which she was relying for a change, 
 would be of no use in May. Besides, if his wife 
 was to be there, and no doubt she would be, 
 she herself would require much better dresses. 
 Washed white muslins might do for men's eyes, 
 but not for women's ! Zeph was very absent, 
 but conversation seemed to flourish without 
 much aid from her ; Daylesford stayed some 
 tune, and was very pleasant, and on his de- 
 parture presented Zeph with an order for a box 
 at one of the theatres. 
 
 J^ext day he came again, but this time he 
 said he had a favour to ask. He had a friend 
 who had recently become possessed of a small 
 collection of what he believed to be extremely 
 choice MSS., and would be very grateful if Mr, 
 Treherne would look at them and give him 
 some idea of their importance. 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 309 
 
 Mr. Treherne was all willingness to look 
 at them whenever he liked to send them. 
 
 ' You are very kind,' replied Daylesford, 
 ' but he is most anxious to see you ; he has 
 other things that he is anxious to show you and 
 consult you about, and he has ventured to send 
 me mth a humble petition. I am to dine with 
 him to-night, and he wants you to be so very 
 kind as to accept an informal invitation and 
 accompany me.' 
 
 Mr. Treherne was silent for a moment. 
 Daylesford hastened to add, ' He is not able to 
 make calls — he is an invalid ; and besides, you 
 would not care to have people calling, and it is 
 no party ; there will be no one but ourselves. 
 Do go ; I beg it as a favour to myself, for it 
 will be such a kindness.' 
 
 Slowly and rather reluctantly Mr. Treherne 
 yielded. He had not dined out for years. He 
 was glad to do anything in his power to 
 oblige his generous friend, but the sacrifice was 
 great. 
 
 ' He lives very near me,' said Daylesford, 
 
3IO THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 ' at No. 19 Queen Elizabeth Street. Shall we 
 meet there ? He dines at a quarter to eight.' 
 It was settled that they should meet there, 
 and after a pleasant visit Daylesford took his 
 leave. 
 
 Was he married? That, as Zeph told 
 herself, was not a matter of particular import- 
 ance to her ; but somehow he did not look like 
 a married man. 
 
 ' Who will walk with father to Queen 
 Elizabeth Street?' asked Mrs. Treherne. She 
 was nnich excited by such an unusual event as 
 her husband's going out to dinner. 
 
 ' Let Zeph and Jack go,' replied Agnes, 
 carelessly. Zeph made no objection; she had 
 nothing to do indoors, and was glad to imder- 
 take anything which made her feel as if her 
 existence was not utterly useless. That was by 
 no means the case during this w^alk. She had 
 not seen her father in the streets for years, and 
 was pained to find how old and helpless he 
 looked. The darkness bewildered him, the 
 swift silent approach of the numerous carriages 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 311 
 
 whicli be raet alarmed him ; he feU wholly 
 unequal to steering his course through the 
 dimly lighted unfamiliar thoroughfares. 
 
 'Take my arm, dear,' said Zeph, who was 
 full of love and pity for him. He walked so 
 hesitatingly and seemed so old and frail and 
 out of place in the world of men, that her heart 
 ached. ' Take my arm, and let me guide 
 you.' 
 
 ' Yes, help me, dear,' said he. ' You are a 
 good kind girl, Zeph.' 
 
 Zeph breathed more freely. Life even in 
 Lome Gardens was w^orth having when she 
 was conscious of being loved and wanted by 
 those with whom she lived. 
 
 'It is a long and weary way ! ' said Mr. 
 Treherne at last. 
 
 ' You ought to have had a cab, dear,' she 
 replied, feeling much self-reproach at not having 
 suggested this, 
 
 ' Oh no, a cab would have cost I don't know 
 how much.' -This hateful want of money 
 troubled them at every turn ! It was too far 
 
312 THAT OTHER PERSON 
 
 for Mr. Treherne to walk — he was so unused 
 to exercise. 
 
 ' Promise me to have a cab to come home,' 
 said she. 
 
 ' Yes, I promise that.' They were now in 
 Queen Elizabeth Street, but Zeph would not 
 leave him till he reached the door of the house 
 to which he was bound. ' Give me a kiss 
 before I go,' said she. He stooped down and 
 kissed her. ' Good-bye, dear,' said she. ' Be 
 sure not to forget the cab. By-the-bye, have 
 you any money ? ' 
 
 Yes, Mr. Treherne had money, though how 
 that happened was one of those mysteries which 
 never can be explained, for he never carried 
 such a thing about him, and never had any need 
 of it. They waited until they saw him safely 
 in the house, and then pursued their way 
 homeward. Ambassadors' Gate was the next 
 street. They had passed Mr. Daylesford's door 
 in going, and now they were to pass it again in 
 returning. A carriage was standing there 
 which they easily recognised as his. ' He is 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 313 
 
 actually going to drive to Queen Elizabeth 
 Street, when he could walk in two minutes ! ' 
 said Jack indignantly ; but before Zeph could 
 answer, the door of the house opened, and a 
 girl, who was closely wrapped in a dark crimson 
 evening cloak, came out, carefully escorted by 
 a couple of footmen, and entered the carriage. 
 ' To the Savoy, Thomas,' said one of them ; and 
 the carriage drove away. Zeph had seen every- 
 thing. Mrs. Daylesford — for no doubt this was 
 Mr. Daylesford's wife — was, so far as she could 
 judge, tall, slender, graceful, and ladylike. 
 Zeph could not see her face, but no doubt she 
 was handsome. 
 
 ' I wonder who that is ? ' said Jack. " He 
 is always having parties ! ' Zeph was rather 
 silent all the way home. 
 
 Polly and Agnes retired to bed rather early 
 that night — and with, as Zeph thought, a 
 strange and unusual knowledge of the truth, 
 they declared that they were in much need of 
 beauty sleep. 
 
 For the first time in her life Zeph enjoyed 
 
314 THAT OTHER PERSO^ 
 
 a quiet evening with her mother. She dis- 
 courseil of her old home, and Zeph, to her great 
 dehght, was strengthened in her behef that 
 the Seatons had been somebodies. Mr. Tre- 
 herne was very late, and they were beginning 
 to be anxious, when about midnight he re- 
 turned, not in a cab, but in Mr. Daylesford's 
 
 carriage. 
 
 ' How kind ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Treherne. 
 ' Mr. Daylesford is a kind man ! He has 
 actually ordered out his own carriage for 
 you ! ' 
 
 ' Oh no ! ' said he, ' I should not have 
 allowed him to do that. I walked as far as 
 his house with him, and we met it just before 
 we got there.' 
 
 ' Empty ? ' asked Zeph. 
 
 'Yes, empty, so he proposed my going 
 home in it.' 
 
 ' I suppose it had just taken Mrs. Daylesford 
 home from the theatre,' said Zeph, quietly. 
 
 ' What Mrs. Daylesford ? ' inquired Mrs. 
 Treherne. 
 
ON THE BLACK BOX 315 
 
 ' His wife, of course,' said Zeph. 
 
 ' His wife, my dear ! ' said Mr. Treherne. 
 ' That is impossible ! I happen to know that 
 he is not married.' 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 rR!\Ti;i) nv 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STOKET SQ0AKB 
 LONDOX 
 
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