1 J »^^ 
 
 Q) 
 
 *J
 
 GLAMOUR.
 
 G L A M O U E. 
 
 1 ^obcl. 
 
 WANDERER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'fair DIANA,' 'ACROSS COUNTRY,' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 S-ff^^^l 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 g^ARDvK- Q.V/E • PVX.C)?A. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SWAN SONNENSCHEIN AND CO 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 
 1885.
 
 8Z2 
 
 i;. 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I, 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. 
 
 THE CONSULATE 
 
 1 
 
 11. 
 
 EARLY TROUBLES 
 
 19 
 
 III. 
 
 THE STENT CLAN 
 
 36 
 
 IV. 
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? . 
 
 62 
 
 V. 
 
 TWO BEFORE AND TWO AFTER 
 
 76 
 
 VI. 
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL . 
 
 89 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE CASINO NOBILE . 
 
 . 117 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'SANTA LUCIA' . ' . 
 
 133 
 
 IX. 
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO . . 
 
 141 
 
 X. 
 
 ^: XI. 
 
 WHAT THE STENTS SAID 
 
 156 
 
 WHAT THEY SAID AT PORTINO 
 
 171 
 
 \ XII. 
 
 V, 
 
 THE maiden's SECRET 
 
 189 
 
 ..^^ XIII. 
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN 
 
 206 
 
 XIV. 
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS 
 
 223 
 
 i^xvi. 
 
 THE CONSUL'S OPINION 
 
 239 
 
 A CHARADE . . . . . 
 
 256 
 
 ^
 
 GLAMOUE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CONSULATE. 
 
 PoETiNO was brilliant in the sunlight. The blue sea 
 was sparkling, the houses glaring so white that it was 
 positively painful to look at them. The grey olive 
 trees that dotted the rocky hill sides were too distant 
 to offer the eye any relief. Great clouds of dust rose 
 on the road which skirted the harbour. The dust 
 whirled and twisted into columns ; some tall and thin 
 others short and wide. Then, for a minute, there 
 would be a calm, and the wayfarers, hurrying alono- 
 VOL. I. 1 
 
 U
 
 A COLD WIND. 
 
 with the corner of their cloaks thrown across the 
 shoulder, would remove their hand from the broad felt 
 hat most affected in Portino. It was a thorough 
 March day — a day of cold piercing Tramontana. 
 
 In a house overlooking the port — a house constructed 
 to withstand heat rather than cold, with a wide piazza 
 towards the sea, and a square garden surrounded by a 
 colonnade behind — was a room which showed that its 
 inhabitants knew something of the comforts of northern 
 climes. The red- tiled floor was covered with a soft 
 carpet, and there was a grate in the fireplace. Instead 
 of the usual little bit of green wood hissing and splutter- 
 ing and smoking, there was a goodly glow of Newcastle 
 coal. The old-fashioned chairs were not set in a for- 
 midable row against the walls, but dotted about the 
 room, so as to take away as much as possible from its 
 bareness. There were several tables — some strewn with 
 books and newspapers ; others with ladies' work, photo- 
 graphic a-lbums, and knick-knacks. Though the place
 
 THE CONSULATE. 
 
 would not have appeared very attractive to those accus- 
 tomed to a good EngKsh home, it formed a pleasing 
 contrast to the cold stateliness of most Portino drawing- 
 rooms. The flag which waved over this house was a 
 sufficient explanation of its comparative comfort, for 
 her Britannic Majesty's Consul at Portino was the 
 tenant; and on this windy morning, her Britannic 
 Majesty's Consul's wife was sitting at the fire, mending 
 sundry garments and talking to her son, a tall young 
 
 man, who was idly looking out of the window at the 
 white sails dotted about the entrance to the harbour, 
 struggling to beat in against the strong wind fronl the 
 mountains. 
 
 ' Teresina says it was a very good ball last night,' 
 remarked the lady, scarcely glancing up from her 
 work. 
 
 She was a woman of what is termed middle age, wear- 
 ing her grey hair in two large, stiff curls on each side 
 of her clever and still smooth face. She was clad in a 
 
 1—2
 
 SHE IS VERY NICE. 
 
 substantial dark woollen gown, cut after the fashion of 
 twenty years ago. 
 
 * Yes, I suppose it was,' assented her son, without 
 turning his head. 
 
 ' You enjoyed it, at all events, Konald,' remarked 
 Mrs. Lascelles rather sharply. 
 
 Something in his mother's tone made the youth look 
 round. 
 
 * Why should I have enjoyed it so particularly ?' 
 Mrs. Lascelles put her work down for a moment. 
 
 ' Teresina says you danced the whole evening with 
 Miss Edith Woodall, so I suppose you liked it. Young 
 men generally enjoy a ball if they are able to dance as 
 much as they wish with the girl they prefer.' 
 
 ' She is very nice,' said Konald quietly. 
 
 ' Yery. I quite agree with you, my dear boy,' answered 
 Mrs. Lascelles. ' And she will be very well off, I should 
 think.' 
 
 ' I suppose so,' replied her son indifferently.
 
 THE CONSULATE. 
 
 ' She will spend the evening here to-morrow/ con- 
 tinued Mrs. Lascelles. ' Teresina is going to have a few 
 of her friends, and I have told her to ask Edith Woodall 
 and her brother. Of course you will stop at home, 
 Eonald.' 
 
 ' Why not ? There is nothing to do anywhere else.' 
 
 ' You do not seem to care much,' Mrs. Lascelles went 
 on. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I do !' replied the young man. * Teresina's 
 evenings are pleasant enough, and there is no special 
 temptation in Portino to take me away.' 
 
 ' You find it dull here, Ronald ?' asked his motter.' 
 
 ' Beastly 1' was the emphatic reply. 
 
 ' Well, much as I like having you here, dear boy, I 
 should be glad if you could find something better 
 than Somerset House to take you away.' 
 
 ' There is not much chance of that,' answered Ronald. 
 
 ' I do not know. There might be, if you tried.' 
 
 ' You know that I have tried, mother, for ever so
 
 RONALD WONDERS. 
 
 long/ said Konald wearily, as lie quitted the window 
 and stretched himself out in his father's vacant arm- 
 chair. 
 
 ' I know, I know !' exclaimed Mrs. Lascelles hastily, 
 not wishing to dwell on the time and money her son 
 had spent in England, employed on uncongenial, 
 ill-paid work. ' But possibly, now, something might 
 be arranged.' 
 
 ' Why now, particularly V asked he, waking up, and 
 at last appearing to take some interest in what his 
 mother was saying. . 
 
 ' Surely you can guess, Ronald V 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles put down her work on her knees, and 
 looked at her son sharply. 
 
 'I cannot, dear mother,' he replied, coming over 
 and sitting down on a low stool by her side. ' Tell me 
 all about it. Has my father heard of anything 
 suitable ?' 
 
 ' No,' answered she, gently placing her hand on the
 
 THE CONSULATE. 
 
 youth's curly head. 'But there are other channels 
 besides your father's influence, which, by-the-by,' she 
 added with a sigh, ' I am afraid we have always rather 
 overrated.' 
 
 ' Have yoii heard of anything, mother ?' 
 ' Well, I have heard, and I have not. That is to 
 say, the matter is quite in your hands.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? Please tell me, and explain 
 the riddle 1' exclaimed Konald. 
 
 'My dear boy, surely you like Edith Woodall, do 
 you not ?' 
 
 ' What on earth has Edith Woodall got to do with it V 
 ' Everything,' said Mrs. Lascelles. ' \ ou are fond of 
 her, and I am sure she cannot help liking you,' 
 stroking his hair fondly. ' Well, Mr. Woodall makes 
 no secret of his intentions. If his daughter marries 
 some one of whom he approves, she will have ten 
 thousand pounds settled on her, and her husband will 
 get a share in the bank.'
 
 A MOTHER'S OPINION. 
 
 ' Oh !' exclaimed Konald. 
 
 ' Yes ; and what is more, as Mr. Woodall is very anx- 
 ious to return to England, the lucky young man whom 
 Edith accepts will soon have charge of the whole 
 Italian business. It's a splendid opening, Ronald.' 
 
 ' It would mean livino: at Portino all one's life,' said 
 the young man, not very joyfully. 
 
 'Well, not all one's life, exactly,' answered his 
 mother. ' And think of the joy it would be for your 
 father and me to have you settled happily and com- 
 fortably near us !' 
 
 ' You are in a great hurry, mother !' laughed Ronald. 
 ' In the first place, perhaps Miss Woodall would not 
 have me.' 
 
 ' There is not much doubt about that,' replied Mrs. 
 Lascelles, looking proudly at her son. Indeed, though 
 of course she was prejudiced in his favour, there were 
 few young men in Portino, whether EngKsh or Italian, 
 whose appearance was as prepossessing as his. Tall,
 
 THE CONSULATE. 
 
 well-grown, with clear complexion, bronzed by out- 
 door pursuits, a soft chestnut beard, and gentle brown 
 eyes, whose lazy, kind glances could not possibly be 
 consistent with anything but pleasant manners and a 
 good heart, Ronald was a son of whom any mother 
 had a right to be proud. 
 
 ' AVell,' continued he, ' secondly, Mr. Woodall might 
 refuse his consent. In fact, I'm sure he would not 
 allow it. I have nothing in the world ' 
 
 ' Your father gives you an allowance,' interrupted 
 Mrs. Lascelles. ' He would certainly continue it gladly, 
 if you were to make so excellent a match.' 
 
 ' My poor father has always done his best for me ; 
 more, far more than I deserved,' answered Ronald 
 rather sadly. ' But that allowance might, you know, 
 cease any day. He might no longer be able to afford 
 it. Teresina will soon want a trousseaiL and a dot, and 
 
 she may not be as lucky as Clara ; or ' Ronald 
 
 was going to add that his father was getting old, and
 
 lo AN OBJECTION, 
 
 might be obliged to resign before he was entitled to a 
 full pension. But he stopped in time. 
 
 ' Do not worry yourself about all that, Ronald. Your 
 father will endeavour to arranofe these matters with 
 Mr. Woodall. You know they are very old friends, 
 and in early days, before this great revolution, and 
 before we thought of United Italy, and when there were 
 often disturbances and so on, the bank was not so pros- 
 perous as it is now, and your father had many oppor- 
 tunities of serving Mr. Woodall.' 
 
 ' Very well ; we will suppose that the father con- 
 sents, and behaves like a fairy godmother,' said 
 Eonald. 'There is one other objection.' 
 
 'What, my dear boy?' asked Mrs. Lascelles 
 anxiously. 
 
 ' I do not know whether / shall consent,' re- 
 plied he. 
 
 'Nonsense, Ronald! Wh}^ you like her! You 
 ought to be delighted to have the chance.'
 
 THE CONSULATE. 
 
 ' Oh yes ; I like her — of course I like her. But 
 there's a difference between liking a girl and wanting 
 to marry her.' 
 
 ' You mean that you are not in love with her ? I 
 would never wish you to marry a girl you could not 
 love. But she is so nice, so thoroughly good, so 
 clever and so attractive, that I feel sure you will be 
 over head and ears in love with her long before the 
 wedding-day.' 
 
 The young man laughed. 
 
 ' She is not pretty,' he remarked. 
 
 ' Not exactly what is termed pretty, I agree with 
 you,' said his mother. 'But she has beautiful eyes 
 and a charming figure.' 
 
 * Yes,' assented Bonald. ' But she's got an awful big 
 mouth and a very long nose.' 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles looked almost severe. 
 
 ' My dear boy,' she observed sententiously, ' you 
 can't get perfection. You are seven-and-twenty, and
 
 12 A DETRIMENTAL, 
 
 you have been about the world a good deal for your 
 age. Have you ever seen an absolutely beautiful girl 
 with ten thousand pounds and a share in a good bank, 
 and lots more money to come by-and-by ?' 
 ' Yes/ answered Ronald ; ' and more, too.' 
 ' Oh ! Then you have been luckier than most 
 people. I do not remember many beautiful heiresses. 
 But, among those you have seen, is there one that 
 would have married you ?' 
 
 * Perhaps,' replied the young man, rather fatuously, 
 ' if I had asked.' 
 ' And would you have got the fortune as well ?' 
 ' Probably not, mother/ answered Ronald. ' I was, 
 and am decidedly, a detrimental. There was Miss 
 Caulfield, whom I met two years ago at Scarborough. 
 She was very good-looking and awfully jolly. We got 
 on capitally together, and I had just made up my 
 mind to propose at the first opportunity. But then 
 old Caulfield came from Bradford, or some dirty place
 
 THE CONSULATE. 13 
 
 like it, where he makes worsted, and he found out all 
 about me, and they went away at once — I don't know 
 where to.' 
 
 ' Any more ?' asked Mrs. Lascelles, rather amused 
 at the recital of her son's bonnes fortunes — or the 
 reverse. 
 
 ' Well, there was that glorious American girl last 
 season. I was on Grandchester's drag at Ascot, and he 
 introduced me to her. She was very fetching — really 
 beautiful, and as clever as anyone I ever met. She 
 had read everything, and went everywhere, and 
 dressed wonderfully well. And she did not talk 
 through her nose a bit. The}^ say she had half a 
 silver mine and a whole oil-pit somewhere.' 
 
 ' What happened, dear ?' inquired the mother. 
 
 * Nothing happened. That was just it. I was 
 dreadfully spooney on her, and took her about to 
 museums and shows,, and all sorts of places, which 
 those American girls think quite proper. I suppose
 
 14 NOT IN IT! 
 
 her mother thouG^lit that, as I was in Grandchester's 
 set, I must be a relation to an earl, or something of 
 that sort. One day I told the girl all about myself, 
 and all of us, and the next day at Lords' the mother 
 cut me dead.' 
 
 ' What has become of her ?' asked Mrs. Las- 
 celles. 
 
 ' She has been travelling about, I believe. Anyhow, 
 she is intended for a viscount at least. Mrs. Monson 
 wants to get into Society with a big S. So I was not 
 in it.' 
 
 ' In what ?' asked Mrs. Lascelles innocently. 
 
 * Oh, in the race for Miss Alma Monson !' 
 
 * Then, after all, it is not so easy to fmd a nice girl — 
 mind, I mean a ilwrov/jUhj good, clever, and amiable 
 girl — with money : is it, Ronald ?' 
 
 * N — no,' replied the young man. 
 
 ' Then you will try your luck with Edith X Mrs. 
 Lascelles went on.
 
 THE CONSULATE. 15 
 
 * Not yet, mother. I must think it over.' 
 
 ' By all means, my boy,' answered she. ' God forbid 
 that I should wish you to do anything hasty, or that 
 you should marry some one whom you could not love 
 dearly !' 
 
 She stooped down and kissed her son on his fore- 
 head and lips. Ronald rose, and saying, ' Good-bye, 
 mother — I shall go out and see if I can get an hour's 
 walk without being blown off my feet,' left the 
 room. 
 
 He turned out of the bright dusty Via Marina, where 
 the hio^h wind made the walkinof inconvenient and 
 reflection impossible, to ascend one of the narrow and 
 comparatively sheltered little streets of the old town. 
 Habit made it easy and almost mechanical for him to 
 avoid the strings of loaded mules, to pass unheeded the 
 noisy old women at their tiny stalls, to wave aside im- 
 portunate beggars, and to thread without any collisions 
 the small crowds of men who, every here and there.
 
 l6 RONALD'S WALK. 
 
 were quarrelling violently, and appeared to be on the 
 verge of a murderous fight. Three months ago he 
 could not have ascended the steep hill so quickly. He 
 had not then learnt to view the street disputes with 
 indifference. When fresh from London, he used to fear 
 that at any moment knives would be drawn and fearful 
 wounds inflicted. He had now become accustomed to 
 the melancholy tale of misery which every successive 
 besfofar unfolded — and in Portino more than half the 
 population seemed to be beggars. Their lamentations 
 produced no greater impression on his mind than the 
 babbling of a brook. Perhaps this morning his gestures 
 of refusal were more impatient than usual, for even the 
 babbling of a brook may irritate, if the nerves are in a 
 high state of tension and the mind is pre-occupied. 
 As he ascended, the street became less crowded. There 
 were many corners absolutely deserted, for round them 
 the Tramontana whistled and howled and picked up 
 the dust, and the fragments of decayed vegetables, and
 
 THE CONSULATE. J7 
 
 bits of paper, and flung them about wildly. Soon 
 Ronald reached the place he had fixed on to spend a 
 quiet hour. It was a sunny terrace much frequented 
 by the Portinesi on mild afternoons, but now, on this 
 stormy morning, quite deserted. The great block of 
 the Palazzo Alfieri, with its wide-stretching colonnades 
 and its numerous offices, sheltered the long narrow 
 garden on the north side and cut off the cruel wind. 
 A small grove of orange trees, where the band played 
 in the summer evenings, closed the one opening through 
 which the Tramontana might have crept in and swept 
 the garden. It was high up above the narrow streeTis, 
 and from its parapet you looked over the terraced 
 roofs of the town, and the courtyards of the PalazzI, 
 right down to the blue waters of the harbour. One 
 glance along the gravel walk told Ronald that there 
 was no one here to disturb his thoughts. 
 
 They were not as entirely pleasant as might be 
 supposed. When a young man hears that he has the 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 i8 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 chance of winning an attractive girl, whose hand will 
 not only bestow on him domestic happiness, but also a 
 comfortable fortune and a good position, he ought to 
 look more cheerful than did Konald on this March morn- 
 ing. He was not, just now, disposed to be particularly 
 cheerful, for his mind dwelt on the past rather than 
 the future, and the retrospect was not entirely satis- 
 factory.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EARLY TROUBLES. 
 
 Mr. Lascelles had been British Consul at Portino for 
 many years, after having served in the Colonial office 
 and as Vice-Consul at various Italian towns. His 
 private means were small, and living on his official 
 income, he spent what he could spare in educating kis 
 children in England. Ronald was first sent to an 
 excellent private school, and then to Exminster, which 
 is neither as expensive nor as fashionable as Eton or 
 Harrow, but at the time of our story, was known for 
 its high tone, the thoroughness of the instruction 
 conveyed, and the admirable discipline enforced by 
 its head master. Winning an entrance scholarship, 
 
 2—2
 
 20 AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 Konald proceeded to Cambridge, where the early 
 successes he. obtained gladdened the heart of his 
 parents, and encouraged the most sanguine hopes for 
 his future career. But though Ronald worked hard 
 at times, he was not, at that period, capable of any- 
 long sustained effort. He could stick to his books, 
 attend lectures, and read with his private tutor, for a 
 whole term, never indulging in any relaxation except 
 what was necessary for his health. But then he 
 would consign all books and all work to entire 
 oblivion, and extend his holiday far beyond the 
 vacation, until the day approached when 'term 
 divides,' and even until he could count the hours to 
 the next examination. Then there would be a violent 
 reaction, and once more he would rise with the sun, 
 make notes, solve problems, commit to memory 
 unceasingly, endeavour to compress into four 
 weeks the work of as many months. The result may 
 be guessed. He passed in mathematical honours, but
 
 EA RL V TROUBLES. 2 1 
 
 he failed to gain a higher place than that of twenty- 
 sixth wrangler. Several men in his own college, 
 whose abilities were inferior to his own, obtained, 
 by their perseverance, prior claims to the fellowship 
 he had hoped for. Ronald had desired to go to the 
 Bar, but his father's means Avould, as he well knew, 
 not suffice to keep him till briefs came. The fellow- 
 ship was to help over the interval — and the fellowship 
 escaped him. To what should he now turn ? It was 
 imperative to do something and to earn his living. 
 The Indian Civil Service was suggested. But Mrs. 
 Lascelles objected to her only son going into exile.for 
 the best years of his life, and Ronald was quite willing 
 to obey his mother's wishes. He had no special wish 
 to leave Europe for an indefinite time, and no ambition 
 to dispense justice to natives in some remote district, 
 where he would be forgotten by all except his nearest 
 relatives. Mr. Lascelles exerted his influence to obtain 
 for his son some Government appointment. An
 
 22 AN EXERCISE CANTER. 
 
 attacMshi]), leading possibly to the higher posts of 
 diplomatic service, was closed to Eonald, because, even 
 more than the beginnings of a liberal profession, such 
 a post required an ample private income. Wherefore, 
 after an interval of idleness which Ronald spent, like 
 many other young men, in London, without doing any 
 special mischief, but also without doing himself or 
 anyone else any good, he presented himself as a 
 candidate for Somerset House. The examination was, 
 as he termed it somewhat conceitedly, a mere 'exercise 
 canter.' If his school and university training had 
 done nothing else, it had, at any rate, accustomed him 
 to the ' mill ' of cramming up for almost any public 
 trial which might be required of him. So the nom- 
 ination was speedily confirmed, and the invalid noble- 
 man to whose influence it was due, wrote a courteous 
 letter to Mr. Lascelles, congratulating him on his son's 
 brilliant success. The British Consul was often able • 
 to serve even influential persons who came to Portino
 
 EARLY TROUBLES. 23 
 
 for their health. When Italy was still split up into a 
 number of small states, the simmering elements 
 of revolution, which burst out into occasional revolts 
 so many times before they culminated in the great 
 war of 1859, kept the various little monarchies in a 
 constant condition of fidgety unrest. Police regulations 
 were tyrannical and inquisitorial ; strangers, even 
 wealthy strangers, were often driven to the verge of 
 despair by petty vexations and tedious delays. Mr. 
 Lascelles did what he could to grease the wheels. 
 Though a man of no very distinguished ability, his 
 unfailing good temper and tact enabled him to 'keep 
 on good terms with the various officials, whatever 
 might be the changes in the 'personnel of the adminis- 
 tration. And he was always ready to soothe an angry 
 traveller, to help him over his difficulties, to make his 
 stay agreeable, and to facilitate his departure. Mr. 
 Lascelles, therefore, had many friends, and it was one 
 of these who obtained a nomination for Ronald.
 
 24 A SMALL INCOME. 
 
 One hundred pounds a year is not very much, even 
 when translated into Italian currency. But when it 
 represents the total income of a young gentleman 
 whose ideas of life were formed at Exminster and 
 Cambridge, it is very little indeed. Ronald was not a 
 spendthrift, but he had not learnt to economize. In- 
 troduced to many pleasant families by his father's 
 letters, he soon became one of the regular men about 
 town in a set only a httle less expensive than the most 
 fashionable. He was good-looking and pleasant ; he 
 danced well and was willing to make himself useful. 
 Hence, though his circumstances were pretty weU. 
 known, he was asked out everywhere. 
 
 Mr. Lascelles was quite aware that his son could not 
 make his salary suffice for his wants, and therefore 
 supplemented it by as much as he could afford — 
 another hundred and fifty. On this Ronald had to 
 manage as best he could. He knew his father's posi- 
 tion, and was well aware that getting into debt meant
 
 EARL V TRO UBLES. 2$ 
 
 a curtailment of comforts for his parents, and of 
 amusements for his sister ; and he honestly strove to 
 make both ends meet. Before the first year of his 
 employment in Somerset House was at an end, he 
 began to have his gloves cleaned, for at that period it 
 was still considered necessary for young men to wear 
 gloves at theatres and evening parties. In August, 
 when people went out of town and the senior clerks 
 were taking their holidays, he climbed up to the roof 
 of an omnibus for the first time in his London life. It 
 cost him a struggle, but Somerset House was a long 
 way from his bright little apartments near Kensington 
 Gardens, and it was better to sit on an omnibus than 
 to walk both ways. He was pleased to find that no 
 one had noticed him, and attributed the circumstance 
 to the absence of most of his fashionable friends. But 
 the habit, once acquired, was comparatively easy to 
 keep up, and Ronald was much gratified to find what 
 a material saving in his budget was effected by the
 
 26 SAVING MONEY. 
 
 complete suppression of hansom cabs. The next step, 
 consequent on a formidable bill from his tailor, was to 
 substitute dark trousers for the light and ephemeral 
 garments he had hitherto worn. Metaphorically, he 
 kept continually patting himself on the back for these 
 sacrifices, and they appeared to him sufficiently great 
 and noble to warrant a continuance of the daily flower 
 in his button-hole. 
 
 Fortunately for a young man of Ronald's easy dis- 
 position, he had an innate aversion to anything low, 
 nasty, and ugly. Probably his early years under the 
 bright skies of Italy, certainly the loftiness of his 
 mother's character, had had their share in imbuing 
 him with aspirations which were thoroughly honest, if 
 not ambitious ; Avith thoughts which were pure, if they 
 were not noble ; and manners gentle and graceful, 
 even if occasionally negligent. Thus he avoided the 
 meaner vices into which young men, left to their own 
 resources in London, are so likely to fall. He refused
 
 EARLY TROUBLES. 27 
 
 to share in those frequent 'nips' and 'pegs' which, 
 then as now, were the curse of the young generation. 
 He refused not only out of regard for his pocket and 
 his health, but also because he detested alcohol. 
 Therefore there was no special credit due to him for 
 his temperance. As to the flirtations with barmaids 
 and other ladies of humble extraction and doubtful ^'s, 
 which occupied a good many spare hours of his fellow- 
 clerks' time, these had no attractions for Konald. He 
 often told his friends, laughingly, that Nature had 
 denied him the great gift of making himself agreeable 
 to barmaids. 
 
 ' You should practise, old man. You'll get on all 
 right by-and-by,' was the answer ; but Konald did not 
 wish to practise. The conversation of these young 
 ladies appeared to him to be entirely devoid of the 
 charm which he, perhaps foolishly and vainly, sought 
 for in all women. He could never become accustomed 
 to their style of chaff, nor did he see the points of the
 
 28 BARMAIDS AND BALLET-GIRLS. 
 
 repartees which would often convulse everyone present 
 with laughter. 
 
 Konald felt that if these were t^^pes of the fair 
 sex, he must needs become a misogynist. But he had 
 access to so many houses, and was so kindly received 
 by so many ladies of all ages, that he had no occasion 
 to compete for the smiles of barmaids or ballet-girls. 
 Though distinctly a detrimental, he was made wel- 
 come ; for, notwithstanding the assertions of novelists 
 and writers in society papers, there are many families 
 where a gentlemanly young man of good manners is 
 graciously and kindly received, even if he be neither a 
 millionahe nor the heir to a title. 
 
 Ronald's conversation with his mother was a some- 
 what cynical summary of two slight and scarcely 
 serious attempts he had made to ' settle in life.' Sensi- 
 tive as he was to ridicule, he was always the first to 
 laugh at himself, and thus take the sting out of a 
 laugh against him. But Mrs. Lascelles was not at all
 
 EARL V TRO UBLES. 29 
 
 inclined to laugh at her son's account of his misadven- 
 tures, nor to agree with him in his own low estimate of 
 his matrimonial chances. It is said that no man is a 
 hero to his valet, but it may be stated with greater 
 truth that every young man is a- hero to his mother. 
 Mrs. Lascelles believed implicitly in her son's abilities, 
 which were no doubt excellent, if not brilliant. She 
 thought his looks and manners irresistible, while they 
 were only pleasing. She had absolute faith in his 
 industry, and attributed his ill-success to every cause 
 but the right one — his want of perseverance. But she 
 was a shrewd woman, and was not blind to the dangers 
 which beset a young man of Ronald's easy temper. 
 The more fascinating he was, the more likely was he, 
 in her ojoinion, to fascinate or be fascinated by a 
 person quite unfit to become his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles had a mortal terror of 'entangle- 
 ments.' She had spent so many years of her life in 
 Italy, had heard so much scandal, and seen so much
 
 30 MRS. LASCELLES' FEARS. 
 
 wretchedness without scandal, caused by ill-assorted 
 marriages and irregular attachments, that she was in 
 a constant state of anxiety lest her son should, some- 
 how, fall a prey to an undesirable person, or become 
 fettered by chains not sanctioned by the Church and 
 society. Looking at him as she did through beautify- 
 ing spectacles, she had a sort of indistinct idea that 
 every other woman must also consider her son the 
 handsomest, cleverest, and most attractive of young 
 men. Put into words, she would, of course, have 
 repudiated the suggestion ; yet an idea of the sort 
 was undoubtedly at the bottom of her fears and 
 anxieties. 
 
 During the first two years Ronald resolutely stuck 
 to the office on every working day from very few 
 minutes after ten till the stroke of four, and, as bank- 
 holidays were not then invented, he found the con- 
 tinuous attendance irksome enough, though it could 
 scarcely be termed hard work by any except his
 
 EARL V TROUBLES. 3^ 
 
 mother and sisters. But when the third year of 
 Somerset House drudgery opened, and the very 
 welcome and Uberal rise of twenty pounds in salary 
 came as a matter of course, his patience began to give 
 out. Ronald yearned to get away from London, from 
 the unceasing noise of the traffic, from the dirty 
 crowds, from the black dust and unsesthetic slums he 
 passed through daily. Possibly his growing desire for 
 freedom might have brought his Civil Service career to 
 a premature end if great news from Portino had not 
 reconciled him to his desk for a few months longer. 
 His elder sister, Clara, only two years younger than 
 himself, had charmed an English stockbroker who was 
 spending a winter in Italy, seeing sights and collecting 
 pictures, after ten years of unceasing work in Capel 
 Court. Mr. Stent, wrote his father, was in every 
 respect unexceptionable. Inquiries made through 
 their old friends, Woodall and Co., Bankers, satisfied 
 Mr. Lascelles that his daughter's suitor had, as he
 
 32 MR. STENT. 
 
 termed it in his consular language, ' a perfectly clean 
 bill of health.' His standing in the City was unim- 
 peachable, and no one had ever whispered a word 
 against his character. Mr. Stent was about six-and- 
 thirty years of age, and, as Mrs. Lascelles was careful 
 to tell her son, he looked thoroughly like a gentleman, 
 though he was not exactly handsome. He was very 
 good to Clara, and did not ask for sixpence with her. 
 So everyone was satisfied, and Ronald was informed 
 that, as the wedding would take place early in May, 
 he must be sure to obtain at least three weeks' leave 
 about that time. Mr. Stent would shortly return to 
 London to take a house and make final arrangements ; 
 no doubt he would call on Ronald, and the young man 
 was instructed to be as friendly as possible to his 
 future brother-in-law. 
 
 Not long after Ronald had despatched congratu- 
 latory letters to every member of his family, he 
 received a neat, square envelope, directed in a com-
 
 EARLY TROUBLES. 33 
 
 mercial round hand. The note it contained was signed 
 ' George Stent,' land was exactly the sort of note a man 
 should write to another some years his junior, whose 
 sister he is about to marry. There was in it no 
 assumption of premature familiarity ; no friendliness 
 which might appear excessive before the two had met. 
 It began as it ought to begin, 'Dear Mr. Lascelles.' It 
 went on as follows : ' No doubt you have heard from 
 Portino that your good and charming sister has 
 promised to become my wife. I should be extremely 
 glad to have an early opportunity of making the 
 acquaintance of one with whom I shall soon bfe so 
 nearly connected, particularly as your most estimable 
 father and your dear mother speak of you with a price 
 which is, no doubt, entirely justified. I should do 
 myself the honour of calling on you at your office, but 
 pressure of work prevents my ever leaving the City 
 during the day. To avoid postponing the pleasure of 
 seeing you, I take the liberty of asking you to honour 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 54 AN INVITATION, 
 
 me by your company at dinner on Tuesday next, at 
 the Franchise Ckib, at half-past seven.' 
 
 Although this letter was unexceptionable in every 
 respect, there was something in it which grated on 
 Ronald's nerves. 
 
 ' D n the fellow's cheek !' he exclaimed aloud ; 
 
 'fancy daring to call the dear old governor ''esti- 
 mable." ' 
 
 Then he read the note again, and liked it still less. 
 Mr. Stent was evidently kind enough to patronize 
 him. His father and mother had, as usual, praised 
 him far more than he deserved, and so this man talked 
 of their pride in him as 'being, no doubt, entirely 
 justified.' 
 
 He handed the letter to St. Clair, his most intimate 
 friend, with whom he ' chummed,^ and whose room he 
 shared at Somerset House. 
 
 St. Clair said : 
 
 ' Well, it's all right. You'll go, of course. No doubt
 
 EARL V TRO UBLES. 3 5 
 
 you'll get a thundering good dinner. My brother-in- 
 law treated me like a king before he was married, and 
 when he comes up to town now he still behaves like a 
 brick, just as if Dora might turn him off at a week's 
 notice if he dared to be unkind to her little brother/ 
 
 "When Ronald pointed out the offensive expressions, 
 his friend pooh-poohed him. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' he cried. ' This man's something in the 
 City. These fellows have more to do than we have, 
 and can't spend hours spelling over a letter. He just 
 wrote what came into his head. Don't go splitting 
 hairs, old chap.' 
 
 So Ronald accepted the invitation, though by no 
 means convinced, and wrote as briefly as he could 
 consistently with good manners* 
 
 3—2
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE STENT CLAN, 
 
 Mr. George Stent was a man of most unattrac- 
 tive appearance. So, at any rate, thought Ronald. 
 His future brother-in-law looked older than his years. 
 His face was long and yellowish, his nose was obtru- 
 sive, his mouth large, and his dark hair sparse. He 
 wore whiskers only, according to the fashion of repu- 
 table City men twenty years ago. His grey eyes were 
 large, but not quite pleasant. There was a fishy 
 stare about them which at first rather disconcerted 
 observant strangers. 
 
 During the first half-hour Ronald wondered a
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 37 
 
 dozen times how his sister Clara could have accepted 
 such a very unprepossessing person. For Clara was 
 pretty and accomplished, had a charming little figure 
 of her own, and had been courted and made much of 
 by every man in Portino, whether English or Italian, 
 ever since she had been sixteen. But by the time the 
 enirie was removed (the dinner was a tcte-a-tete) 
 Ronald began to soften, and before the dessert was 
 placed on the table he caught himself thinking that 
 George Stent was rather a good fellow after all. For 
 the stockbroker had spoken pleasantly of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lascelles, and enthusiastically of his betrothed, 
 without boring his guest by dwelling too long on his 
 affection for her. He seemed to take a kindly 
 interest in everything and all that concerned the 
 family, and even talked of the English cricket club at 
 Portino, and its prospects, as if he knew all about the 
 place. Then by an easy transition he turned to 
 pictures, and listened to Ronald's views on Itahan art
 
 38 A PLEASANT DINNER. 
 
 — from cinque cento to the present time — with 
 apparent deference and attention. 
 
 Ronald was agreeably disappointed, and reproached 
 himself with having judged too hastily. This fellow 
 was certainly ugly, but he was cultivated and good 
 natured. He must be what is termed a good ' all- 
 round man.' Sententious perhaps, and with manners 
 of which the extreme courtesy bordered on formality. 
 But though Eonald himself generally erred on the 
 other side, he always much admired the old style, and 
 was ready to be pleased by a person who never for a 
 moment appeared to forget what was due to a gentle- 
 man dining with him. 
 
 After dinner Mr. Stent's younger brother appeared 
 with a friend of his, and the party became more inti- 
 mate and merrier. As the eldest among them, and 
 the host, George never entirely forgot his courtliness 
 nor his gravity, but he unbent, smiled kindly at the 
 stories told, condescended to tell a few little artistic
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 39 
 
 anecdotes himself, and delicately closed the entertain- 
 ment long before the 3'oung men had ceased to be 
 amused. 
 
 The progress of the engagement was as smooth as 
 its beginning had been auspicious. Mr. Stent was 
 lavish in valuable presents to his bride and tasteful 
 gifts to every member of her family, and even to her 
 school friends. He dashed off to Italy, not so easily 
 reached from London as it is now, at the cost of five 
 days and nights' travelling, merely to spend a few 
 hours at Portino. He occasionally asked Ronald to 
 dinner, frequently consulted him about future arrange- 
 ments, and even carried him off to Hancock's to help 
 him in the choice of jewellery. In short, everything 
 was exactly as it should be. The only trouble was 
 that political events at that time made it impossible 
 for Mr. Lascelles to leave his post. Stent had been 
 anxious that the whole family should come to Eng- 
 land for two or three months, and that the wedding
 
 40 A WEDDING. 
 
 should take place in London. But this proved impos- 
 sible. The war with Austria was over, but matters 
 w^ere still very unsettled, and the whole of Italy was 
 disturbed. It was not a proper time for a family to 
 travel, and it was not a time at Avhich the English in- 
 terests at Portino could be intrusted to a young and 
 inexperienced Yice-Consul. So, in May, the wedding 
 took place at the Consulate, the bridegroom's family 
 being represented by his two brothers only. 
 
 Ronald spent a very pleasant holiday, and renewed 
 his acquaintance with the friends of his boyhood, now 
 grown up to be young men and young ladies. For 
 three weeks the quiet Consulate was lively with pre- 
 parations for the great event, with the great event 
 itself, and with festivities hastily got up to console 
 Clara's friends for her departure. There were numer- 
 ous little ' dancing teas,' though the season was far 
 advanced. There w^as a two-days' picnic to the Cer- 
 tosa. There were sailing trips on the quiet blue
 
 THE STENT CLAN, 41 
 
 waters of tlie Mediterranean. There was a cricket- 
 match between the rival clubs of Portino and Cam- 
 poreale, in which Ronald, the champion Portino 
 bowler, took seven of his opponents' wickets for 
 twenty runs, to his own glory and his friends' satis- 
 faction. In fact, they had a good time all round. 
 Even Mrs. Lascelles joined in the fun and, in the pros- 
 pects of the future, forgot the sorrow which a mother 
 must always feel when parting with her daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles loved her daughter as a matter of 
 course, but her heart was not wrapped up in Clara. 
 Of her three children, Ronald had always been the 
 one who monopolized her affection. Even while her 
 head and hands were busy for Clara, her heart went 
 out to her son, whose welfare and interests were 
 supreme with her. She even went so far as to speak 
 to George Stent about his future, and to hint very 
 delicately that possibly the wealthy stockbroker might 
 ' do something for him ' some day. Her gentle in-
 
 42 STENT HOSPITALITY. 
 
 sinuations were received with the deferential courtesy 
 Mr. Stent always displayed to hia future mother-in^ 
 law, and even before the honeymoon was over Mrs. 
 Lascelles had a convincing proof that they had fallen 
 on fertile soil. 
 
 For the City man made a proposal which showed 
 extraordinary affection for his Avife and for his wife's 
 relations. He Avrote to suggest that as long as Ronald 
 could not find anything better than the Revenue 
 Office he should take up his quarters with them, where 
 he could have two comfortable rooms in their new 
 house, a large and commodious one, near Hyde Park. 
 Of course he should be quite his own master ; but it 
 Avould be a positive boon to Clara to have her brother 
 living with her. He, Stent, was much engaged in 
 the City, and could seldom return home before seven. 
 At first Clara would find it very dull if she were 
 quite alone. Now Ronald's office hours being much 
 shorter, he would be able to take his sister out
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 43 
 
 occasionally, join her afternoon tea, and keep her from 
 moping by home associations. Mr. Stent added that 
 in such a house as his the presence of an additional 
 member of the family would make no appreciable 
 difference, therefore, of course, Ronald would be saved 
 the entire expense of his present lodgings. 
 
 This offer was made after Ronald had returned to 
 London, but Mr. Stent sent it to Mr. Lascelles at 
 Portino, instead of first informing the young man of 
 his hospitable intentions. Perhaps he had anticipated 
 that Ronald would receive it with less warmth than 
 his father and mother. At any rate, it was sent to 
 Somerset House at once in a very enthusiastic letter 
 from Mrs. Lascelles, and a scarcely less appreciative 
 one from the Consul. The offer was most kind and 
 thoughtful. The plan would save Ronald over a 
 hundred a year, and in his anxiety that his son should 
 accept the offer, Mr. Lascelles voluntarily added that 
 he would reduce the allowance only by forty pounds—
 
 44 HE TRIES TO GET OUT OF IT. 
 
 the exact sum Ronald spent in rent. He added that, 
 of course, both he and Mrs. Lascelles had at once 
 written to their son-in-law to accept his kindness on 
 behalf of Ronald. The ground, therefore, was cut 
 from under his feet. 
 
 Ronald did not wish to go to Porchester Terrace, and, 
 if unfettered, would have declined the invitation at 
 once and decisively, although he knew that the saving 
 of even forty pounds a year would be a considerable 
 relief to his father. He had been entirely free for 
 several years, had gone out and come home when he 
 pleased, had not been accountable to anyone for his 
 hours, or for the disposal of himself and his time, and 
 he was sure that the change, even to his sister's house, 
 would prove very irksome. 
 
 And he much disliked the idea of leaving his friend, 
 St. Clair, with whom he had lived on excellent friendly 
 terms for so long. He had not learnt to love his 
 brother-in-law, although he would have been at a loss
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 45 
 
 to give any better reason for not liking him than the 
 very vague assertion ' that he was a bore.' Therefore, 
 when Ronald had received his letter, and had thought 
 the matter over a little, he hoped that St. Clair would 
 express such a disgust at the proposed arrangement 
 as to afford him a good excuse for declining it. He was 
 horribly disgusted when his friend, after reading the 
 letter which Ronald handed to him, simply remarked : 
 
 ' It is a capital idea ! How very jolly ! Fancy being 
 saved Mrs. Western's bills, and having better atten- 
 dance than those stupid girls who never stop a week 
 after they have learnt their business !' 
 
 'But what will yoii do, old man?' asked Ronald 
 aghast. 
 
 'Oh! I shall get on well enough. Anyhow,' he 
 added mysteriously, 'probably we should have had 
 to make a change soon. I shall be devilish glad to 
 get away from Mrs. Western's. We'll give her notice 
 to-night.'
 
 46 THE LA TCH-KE V. 
 
 Ronald saw his last cliance of escape disappear. He 
 had to give in, and four weeks later was installed at 
 his sister's, where he had two small, but very well 
 furnished, rooms allotted to him on the second-floor. 
 Everything was exactly as it should be, and he cou-ld 
 find nothinf^ whatever to OTumble at. On the first 
 -evening, when Clara left the two men over their wine, 
 Mr. Stent addressed Ronald with his usual solemn 
 courtesy. 
 
 'I hope you will be comfortable, Ronald, and will 
 liven Clara up. She seems rather dull, poor girl.' 
 
 ' I will do what I can,' said Ronald. 
 • ' No doubt, no doubt ! But, of course, I can't expect 
 you to be always at your sister's beck and call. She 
 does not expect it herself. You will be going to your 
 club occasionally, and meeting your friends, and in 
 the winter you Avill be full of invitations again. You 
 must make yourself at home. So here is a latch-key. 
 But mind you are careful to put up the chain and
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 47 
 
 bolt the door when you come in, and doti't make more 
 noise than you can help.' 
 
 Mr. Stent solemnly handed the latch-key over the 
 table. As Konald grasped it, he added impressively : 
 
 * And, Ronald, I am to some extent responsible for 
 you; I hope you will not abuse this key.' 
 
 The young man stared, and then laughed. 
 
 ' Abuse it ? Responsible ? I don't see what you 
 mean. I will be careful to shut the place up, and I 
 won't admit burglars, if that is Avhat you are driving 
 at, George.' - 
 
 'That is not exactly what I was "driving at," 'as 
 you term it,' replied Mr. Stent, with a thin smile. 
 ' However, I believe it is all right.' 
 
 ' Why the deuce should it not be all right ? 
 exclaimed Ronald. ' Bless you, I have had a latch-key 
 for the last ten years.' 
 
 ' I dare say, I dare say,' answered Stent. * But of 
 course you will have to be more careful in your
 
 48 YOU MA V SMOKE. 
 
 sister's house.' He emphasized sister to place Konald 
 at his ease. 
 
 ' More careful ?' repeated Konald. ' I don't habitu- 
 ally come home drunk, old man ! I shan't tumble on 
 the stairs and upset the furniture more than once a 
 week. And of course Clara knows my ways, and she 
 won't mind having me kick up a bit of a row between 
 times. I'll always be in before the milk ; the servants 
 won't know !' 
 
 ' Ronald !' exclaimed Mr. Stent, seeing that he was 
 being chaffed, a process he detested. 
 
 ' Don't be frightened, George,' said the young man, 
 not quite good-naturedly. ' Clara shan't be put out, 
 nor you either.' 
 
 Mr. Stent subsided, not satisfied, but obliged to 
 look as if he were. Then he went on : 
 
 * By-the-by, you may smoke in your sitting-room. 
 I have had double doors fitted, so that none should 
 come into the rest of the house : only don't smoke on 
 the stairs, please.'
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 49 
 
 * I won't/ replied Eonald. ' Thank you for thinking 
 of my habits.' 
 
 ' Why, yes,' said Stent. ' I only smoke after dinner 
 myself, but then you have more time. Will you 
 come into my study, and have a cigar now ?' 
 
 The latch-key did not prove dangerous. Konald 
 saw very little of his brother-in-law. He was off to 
 the City before nine ; and when Clara found out 
 that her brother hated the eight o'clock breakfast, she 
 established one which was not put on the table till 
 her husband had gone. Then Konald often dined at 
 his club, and more frequently Clara and George dined 
 and spent the evening with some member of the 
 Stent family, which was very numerous and very 
 clannish. So Konald did not find it as irksome as he 
 expected, and the winter passed uneventfully, as did 
 the following season. 
 
 It was some eighteen months after Konald had 
 taken up his residence at Porchester Terrace that a 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 so CLEARING OUT. 
 
 change came. The birth of a son and heir was 
 expected, and the house had to be turned upside down. 
 Mr. Stent seemed to fancy that the arrival of this baby 
 was an historical event of the utmost importance. To 
 hear him, one would have supposed that no baby had 
 ever been born before. 
 
 Eonald rejoiced at an excuse for leaving his sister's 
 "house. There were, said he, too many Stents about. 
 He could not always shut himself up in his room, nor 
 could he be uncivil to his brother-in-law's family. But 
 the people were utterly uncongenial to him, and 
 certainly unlike any of his own relations and friends 
 at Portino. 
 
 Full of their own affairs, busy with each other's 
 families, and overflowing with brotherly, sisterly, 
 and cousinly affection to each other, these good 
 people seemed to live in a world of their own which 
 was certainly not the big world, and equally certainly 
 not Ronald's world.
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 51 
 
 Anything that fell in with their views and opinions 
 was right ; everything else was wrong, and even shock- 
 ing. If a Stent took up a book and praised it, the 
 whole clan of Stents were full of admiration for the 
 work. If a Stent thought little of an artist, that 
 unfortunate painter was at once put down as an 
 impostor and a humbug by every member of the 
 family. It was 'great news,' and all the Stent 
 carriages were ordered out to impart it to the ladies' 
 friends, and to enable them to talk it over, if William 
 Stent took a house in the country for six weeks. If 
 Frederick R. Stent's wife gave her cook notice, she at 
 once drove out to tell Mary Stent, and Miss Eliza 
 Stent, and Mrs. W. Stent. Then they would all meet 
 at George Stent's house, and discuss the matter at full 
 length during the whole evening. 
 
 When the baby was expected, the whole Stent clan 
 was in a state of perpetual agitation. Every female 
 relative thought it necessary to call at least thrice a 
 
 4—2 

 
 52 FAMIL V DINNERS. 
 
 week, and to stop two hours, to keep 'poor Clara's 
 spirits up.' In sucli a case it was absolutely necessary, 
 they said, that the lady should not be dull, nor alone. 
 The Saturday evening dinners at the house of Stent 
 senior, where the whole clan assembled, were converted 
 into a royal court for Clara's benefit. When she drove 
 up, a gang would rush out to help her into the 
 morning-room — for, out of deference to her condition, 
 Mrs. Stent senior had changed the venue from the 
 first-floor to the ground-floor. There would almost be 
 a quarrel as to which was the most comfortable seat 
 for her. Old Mr. Stent would take her in to dinner 
 (though she was the youngest of his daughters-in-law) 
 with an exaggerated show of care, as if she had been a 
 piece of antique Venetian glass. The whole dinner- 
 table was excited until a stool had been placed under 
 her feet. 
 
 In the middle of the repast, some over-anxious 
 member of the family would call out, in a loud voice :
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 53 
 
 ' Are you sure that you are quite comfortable, Clara 
 dear ?' and, ten minutes later, Mrs. Stent (senior) would 
 interrupt the flow of conversation by the inquiry, 
 * Don't you feel it too hot, Clara ?' and then whisper 
 significantly to any chance stranger who might, 
 unfortunately for himself, have been invited to the 
 Stent family dinner. 
 
 The ladies would retire very soon 'so that poor 
 Clara might not be fatigued,' as they were careful to 
 say, audibly; and when they reached the drawing- 
 room, poor Clara, who would have liked to play the 
 piano or do anything else lively, would be gently 
 supported up to a bedroom to ' lie down and rest/ 
 
 If Ronald by chance met a Stent in the street, 
 whether a distant cousin or a brother of George's, he 
 would at once jump down the young man's throat 
 with the anxious inquiry : ' How is your dear sister ? 
 One ought to be very careful, you know.' 
 
 The Stents being a very large family, Ronald was
 
 54 THE BEGINNINGS OF A STENT. 
 
 always meeting one or the other, and he began to 
 think that he had better put a scroll round his hat, 
 with the words ' My sister is very well, thank you.' 
 
 The young men of the Stent clan never ran into 
 debt ; and the daughters of that ilk never flirted. 
 There was not room in the old-established firm of 
 Stent and Cowcroft for all the youths of the name, 
 but other openings were found for them in the City. 
 When a young Stent attained the age of ten, he was, 
 as a matter of course, sent to a certain private school 
 on the South coast, where Stents had been birched in 
 old times long past, and where Stents now acquired 
 all that it was necessary to learn at school. At 
 seventeen or eighteen, it was considered proper 
 for a Stent to ' go to the university,' as it was termed 
 in the family. This did not mean that either Oxford 
 or Cambridge would be favoured by the matriculation 
 of so promising an alumnus. Time was too valuable 
 for a waste of three years at so critical a period of a
 
 . THE .STENT CLAN. 55 
 
 young man's life. The founder of the clan had been 
 one of the early supporters of the London University, 
 when that institution had been established, and his 
 descendants were not likely to forget their duties by 
 deserting the Gower Street College, which is, in the 
 minds of most persons, always confounded with the 
 examining and degree-conferring body at Burlington 
 House. So a year, perhaps two, were profitably spent 
 in wearing a cap and gown, and attending lectures. 
 There was great joy in the family if one of its mem- 
 bers, by a fluke, obtained a sixth certificate in junior 
 mathematics, and on such an occasion, the winner of 
 Academic honours could not be sufficiently feted, nor 
 warned earnestly enough not to work too hard. 
 When this ordeal was over — for no Stent had ever 
 been known to take a degree — a convenient stool 
 was found for the youth within two hundred yards of 
 the Bank of England. At Stent and Cowcroft's, it 
 was a matter of course that there should be at least
 
 56 FURTHER PROGRESS, 
 
 two young men of the family learning the business, 
 and being educated to become partners ; but their 
 progress was not confined to their own firm. They 
 invariably got on in the City. When our George 
 Stent, Clara's husband, had been three years with a 
 good financial house, its senior partner had occasion 
 to remark that the young man had never been late at 
 the office, except once, when he was in a train which 
 broke down ; that he had never missed a single 
 working day ; and that he had never made a mistake 
 in the quotations of the market. With such regu- 
 larity and such industry, no man could fail to get on ; 
 and very few years later, George Stent and a cousin 
 were started in business on their own account by the 
 clan, which furnished the necessary funds as a matter 
 of course. Stent Brothers — as the new firm was 
 styled with a view to the future — never opened 
 speculative accounts ; never bought or sold without 
 ample margin ; never lent money except on unexcep-
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 57 
 
 tionable security ; and would have been stricken with 
 paralysis, if anyone had suggested that they might 
 possibly sometimes have a flutter on their own 
 account. So they made less than many of their 
 competitors ; but they never lost anything. They 
 always went on making money, not spending a 
 quarter of their income, and steadily laying by for a 
 ■ rainy day. 
 
 Thus it happened that when George Stent married 
 Clara, he was a very ' warm ' man, and could well afford 
 to take her without any dower. It was a strange and 
 unusual thing for a Stent to marry a penniless girl 
 and there had been some little surprise expressed in 
 the camp when the news came. But when the 
 marriage was once accepted, Clara was welcomed as 
 warmly as if she had had millions ; and they were all 
 so pleased with her, that in the exuberance of his 
 pleasure, her father-in-law said to her encouragingly, 
 * My dear child, you will soon be quite a Stent.'
 
 58 THE STENT YOUNG LADIES. 
 
 The young girls of the family were equally praise- 
 worthy in their conduct. They were taught all the 
 proper accomplishments by a certain Miss Dawson, 
 who being now nearly fifty, had instructed successive 
 families of young female Stents ever since she had 
 commenced her career as an instructress at the age 
 of eighteen. If, unfortunately, the families of two 
 brothers, or two cousins, were both in want of a 
 governess, an arrangement was made by which the 
 little girls of one family went to the house of the 
 other from ten, say, till four, so that they might not 
 be exposed to the risk of having a new governess. 
 At eighteen a lady Stent was brought out, and pre- 
 sented to Her Majesty as soon as possible. Generally 
 about three or four years later there would be a little 
 whispering at the family gatherings, and confidential 
 views would be exchans^ed between the mothers in 
 Stent, while the men nudged each other and smiled. 
 These symptoms were well known. In less than Sb
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 59 
 
 fortnight, one fine day the Stent carriage would be 
 driving about to all the various houses occupied by 
 members of the family, a Stent coachman would be 
 conversing affably with the various footmen, and two 
 tired Stent horses would wish that they had died 
 before that auspicious day. For Eliza Stent was 
 engaged to young Green, of Black, Green, French- 
 grey and Co., Throgmorton Street. 
 
 Above all things the clan disliked eccentricity. 
 Their tastes, they said, were simple. George, John, 
 and William for the boys ; Eliza, Jane, and Mary 
 for the girls, were the names they most affected. 
 They were all supposed to be fond of music and 
 pictures ; and, indeed, they understood both sufficiently 
 to talk about them with a great air of intelligence. 
 Stent senior bought pictures; the younger members 
 purchased water-colours and etchings. Every Stent 
 was expected to go abroad for six months at least 
 before his education was considered complete. This
 
 6o THEY ARE VERY MUCH ALIKE. 
 
 six montlis' tour was talked of by the clan for years 
 before, and until some other member's turn came. 
 George had voluntarily postponed his holiday till he 
 had made a great deal of money, and it was then that 
 he fell a victim to Clara Lascelles. 
 
 Of course, Konald only gradually discovered the 
 beautiful ways and simple customs of the family 
 which had so innocently taken him to its bosom. 
 When it began to dawn on him that George Stent was 
 very much like William Stent, and that there was 
 no great difference in conversation and ways between 
 these two and James Stent, and when he also found 
 out that James, William, or John, or two of them 
 with their wives, or all of them, frequently dined at 
 Porchester Terrace, and as frequently expected George 
 and Clara to dine with them, he began to be affected 
 by his usual complaint — boredom. When further 
 he was delicately informed that, under penalty of 
 being considered a brute, he was ' expected ' to be at
 
 THE STENT CLAN. 6i 
 
 home when James, William, or John came to dinner, 
 and to accompany George and Clara when they dined 
 with Mrs. James, Mrs. William, or Mrs. John, his com- 
 plaint assumed an acute form. 
 
 Fortunately the joyful event now expected gave 
 him an excuse to leave which he was not slow to take. 
 In vain his brother-in-law assured him that he would 
 not be in the way, and that his room would not be 
 required. He preferred leaving, and he did so all the 
 more willingly that he had obtained three months* 
 leave from his duties, of which he resolved to 
 spend a greater portion at Portino. Here we found 
 him discussing the future with Mrs. Lascelles.
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE ? 
 
 Yes, Edith Woodall was a very delightful girl. 
 There could be no doubt of her intelliQ:ence, which was 
 apparent in every glance of her eyes, nor of her good 
 heart, which was abundantly proved by the affection 
 entertained for her by all who knew her, and by her 
 numerous acts of thoughtful kindness which could 
 not remain a secret in the small English colony of 
 Portino. Yet, did Ronald love her? If love were 
 really the passion described by poets and novelists, if 
 its symptoms were always the same or similar, if the 
 diagnosis of the disease as laid down by those who 
 ought to know, were correct, then Ronald was
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? 63 
 
 not in love with her. He did not feel miserable if 
 obliged to spend a few days without seeing her. He 
 did not count with impatience the minutes which had 
 to elapse before meeting her again. He could 
 scramble along very comfortably for a week, or even 
 longer, without any particular yearning for her sweet 
 presence. He did not dream of her, still less did he 
 lie awake thinking of her. He could enjoy himself 
 very much at a cricket-match, or sailing, without 
 her image disturbing his mind in the least. He could 
 even get on very well with other young ladies, perhaps 
 less intelligent and less kind-hearted, but yet quite 
 delightful company. They did not suffer by com- 
 parison with Edith. Miss A. or Miss B., to whom he 
 did not think of proposing, whom he did not care two 
 straws about, were very fair substitutes for Edith if 
 she did not happen to be in the way. He would talk 
 to them, dance with them, and even flirt with them. 
 When at last he was once more in the presence of
 
 64 SYMPTOMS. 
 
 Miss Woodall, lie did not feel any extraordinarily 
 violent pleasure. He was very happy no doubt, but 
 not so very much happier — was he at all happier ? — 
 than on the previous evening with Miss A. or Miss 
 B. Of course she was their superior. He could talk to 
 her on matters which would have been Greek to them 
 — on books and art, and even politics, which were 
 beyond their understanding. So he ran less chance 
 of being bored by her, and Ronald was very easily 
 bored. But he never remembered to have been bored 
 for one instant by Edith Woodall, Perhaps that 
 was a proof of love. Perhaps he, Ronald, was onl}^ 
 capable of negative symptoms ; not, in fact, a good 
 subject for the complaint. Certainly he had attained 
 the age of twenty-seven without having suffered any 
 of the agonies described by poets and novelists — ex- 
 cept for a short time. He had been much taken up 
 by Miss Monsell, the beautiful American. He had 
 thought her lovely, original, and delightful. When
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? 65 
 
 she gave him the cold shoulder, he had been 
 ' awfully hard hit,' as he termed it, and had moped 
 for a couple of weeks. But now,, thinking over his 
 feelings after a year's interval, he believed that he had 
 suffered from mortified vanity rather than disappointed 
 love. He knew that he had made a favourable im- 
 pression on the girl, and fancied that that favourable 
 impression had gradually deepened into a stronger 
 feeling. He thought himself indispensable to her 
 happiness, and he built beautiful castles in the air. 
 Suddenly she showed unmistakably that Mr. Ronald 
 Lascelles was not at all indispensable to her, and his 
 beautiful castles collapsed. He had been horribly 
 disappointed and annoyed, but was he heart-broken ? 
 Not quite — at any rate not then. Possibly he had no 
 heart to break, that is, no sensitive heart such as 
 lovers are supposed to possess. Now, comparing his 
 feelings about Edith Woodall with those he had 
 entertained for Miss Monsell, the American heiress, 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 NOT FASHIONABLE. 
 
 he found them very dissimilar. There were great 
 differences, no mere shades of distinction. The Ameri- 
 can was dashing, pecuhar, and original ; she would 
 never condescend to obey, though she might possibly 
 consult her husband if she loved him. With her Ronald 
 felt that she would absorb him altogether, that he 
 would probably always play second fiddle to her lead. 
 But then her personality imposed itself in such a 
 way that he foresaw no unpleasantness in thus dropping 
 into the second place. The case was obviously very 
 different with Edith Woodall. Brought up in a quiet 
 family circle, having spent the greater part of her 
 life in Portino, she spoke Italian and French like a 
 native, but was absolutely ignorant of the pursuits 
 and amusements in which young ladies like Miss 
 Caulfield and Miss Monsell had spent half their life. 
 She knew nothing of the fashionable world of London ; 
 she had never been on a race-course ; she had never 
 ridden anything more lively than a brown Italian
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? 67 
 
 donkey : she considered it a great tiling to go to half 
 a dozen dances during the winter. Of course she 
 knew much which the other young ladies did not 
 know ; in culture she was obviously their superior, 
 in temper, as Ronald expressed it, ' she could give 
 them fifty in a hundred.' 
 
 So though he thought that he was not quite as 
 fond of Edith as he had ever been of Miss Monsell, he 
 was attracted to her by totally different qualities. 
 She would undoubtedly be a thoroughly good wife to 
 any man she loved. She was an excellent house- 
 keeper, too, which was no unimportant matter, as 
 Ronald well knew, having had to ' chum ' it for some 
 years with a bachelor friend. Probably she would 
 make a thousand a year go as far as two thousand in 
 other hands. She had taken charge of her widoAved 
 father's house when she was sixteen, and had 
 proved an excellent hostess. Their entertainments 
 were, no doubt, simple and homely, yet the 
 
 5—2
 
 68 IS LOVE BLIND? 
 
 one English banker in Portino, wliicli was full of 
 strangers every winter, received many people at 
 his house, and there was scarcely an evening 
 during the season on which the family were quite 
 alone. 
 
 But was not this catalogue of virtues almost com- 
 mercial by its very completeness ? Surely a fond 
 lover could not thus glibly run off the moral perfec- 
 tions of his mistress, and calmly compare them with 
 the charms of other women ! A lover, thought 
 Eonald, would be more enthusiastic and less sensible. 
 Love is, of course, traditionally blind. Now he could 
 see too well that Edith's mouth was large, and her 
 nose neither aquiline and Roman nor straight and 
 Greek. He could also perceive that she had no large 
 quantity of hair, though what there was of it was fair 
 and soft. If he were in love with her, he ought to 
 consider her mouth exactly the right size, to be 
 convinced that the ancients were fools in their
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? 69 
 
 opinion about noses, and, in fact, to be under 
 the impression that her face and form were per- 
 fection. 
 
 He had heard his friends speak about the ladies of 
 their hearts, and they had done so with an enthusiasm 
 which, unfortunately, he did not at present feel. His 
 * chum,' St. Clair, had some time ago fallen in love 
 with a certain Miss Denny, whom he had met in 
 Suffolk, where he was invited to shoot. AVhen he re- 
 turned to Somerset House he could talk of no one but 
 this lovely Miss Denny. She was beautiful, she was 
 brilliant, she was the j oiliest and dearest girl -ever 
 seen. Her figure was perfection, and as to her face, so 
 pretty and 'piquante, it was too delicious to describe. 
 As the autumn wore on into the winter, St. Clair's 
 enthusiasm rather increased than diminished, and 
 Ronald had become very curious to see this wonderful 
 Miss Denny, who had fascinated his good-looking 
 friend. At last the Suffolk folks came up to town for
 
 70 IS LO VE BLIND f 
 
 the season, and one afternoon St. Clair carried Ronald 
 off to be introduced to them. 
 
 Miss Denny turned out to be a small, skinny little 
 thing, with nothing attractive at all. She was quick 
 and bright, and dressed well ; but Ronald was entirely 
 at a loss to understand how his friend, a man who 
 went about quite as much as himself, and had had 
 ample opportunities of seeing the prettiest women in 
 London, could consider this young lady at all good- 
 looking. Yes, love, or at any rate St. Clair's love, Avas 
 evidently quite blind — utterly unconscious of any im- 
 perfections in the lady ; wrapped up in admiration for 
 her as if she were the only woman in the world, look- 
 ing at her through spectacles which rounded off* 
 angles, filled up hollows, straightened ugly curves, and 
 curved ugly straight lines, enlarged that which was 
 too small, and diminished what was too large. Were 
 such glasses always the accompaniment of love ? 
 Could love not exist except with blindness ? Or was
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? yi 
 
 this all-admiring, all-beautifying temper only confined 
 to St. Clair ? No, for Count Stornello, one of the 
 young Italians who was most intimate with the 
 English colony at Portino, had confided to Claude his 
 enthusiastic admiration for Signora Ferraris. 
 
 Signora Ferraris was married, but of course in Italy 
 it is quite permissible for young men to proclaim 
 their love for somebody else's wife from the house- 
 tops, and the last person to take offence is the hus- 
 band. Stornello was more demonstrative than St. 
 Clair, and equally blind. Mdme. Ferraris was fat, and 
 had no complexion at all except what she borrowed 
 from the little pots on her toilet-table, and she was 
 nearly old enough to be the Count's mother. But he 
 raved of her wonderful eyes, which indeed she knew 
 how to use to the best advantage ; her faded com- 
 plexion was to him attractive morbidezza ; her ample 
 form became the rounded contours of graceful matron- 
 hood. Stornello would call on her, and wait an
 
 72 ENVIABLE MISSIONS. 
 
 hour for a kind glance ; he would look at his watch a 
 hundred times during the afternoon, hoping for the 
 moment when she would drive across the Yia Marina, 
 and give him a suave bow or a coquettish nod ; he 
 tvould rush to the theatre the moment the doors were 
 opened and never take his eyes off her box till she 
 entered it, when he could often not wait for the 
 entvacte, but must push out through the crowd to 
 wait on her. All this was indeed now over, but 
 Konald remembered it well. 
 
 At these absurdities Konald had often smiled. 
 How he envied St. Clair and Stornello their illusions ! 
 How wonderful \ a creature Edith Woodall would 
 appear to him if he could only borrow their glasses ! 
 For she was young and graceful, and had none of 
 these shocking defects so painfully apparent in Miss 
 Denny and Signora Ferraris. But he had not lost his 
 ordinary eyesight, and instead of rhapsodizing like 
 Stornello, or unceasingly talking of his love like St.
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? 73 
 
 Clair, here he was calmly making a schedule of her good 
 points and bad ones, as if Miss Woodall were a horse 
 offered for sale. So much was clear, he had not, like 
 so many others, allowed his heart to control his reason 
 or his eyes. So he returned to the idea which had 
 already run in his mind. Perhaps, after all, he was 
 incapable of the foolish and blind passion to which 
 other men were subject. Perhaps he was not made to 
 suffer the tortures nor to enjoy the infinite pleasures 
 of an all-absorbing love. 
 
 No doubt they would be very happy together if she 
 accepted him, which he thought probable though 
 not certain. 
 
 But still Ronald had misgivings. Having almost 
 
 made up his mind to propose, on the ground that he 
 
 loved Edith as dearly as he was ever likely to love any- 
 body, he suddenly began to consider the matter from 
 
 the lady's standpoint. After all, was it quite fair to 
 
 offer her what professed to be his hand and heart
 
 74 BETTER WAIT. 
 
 when the heart was really not entirely hers ? Was 
 it just to a girl so charming and so thoroughly straight- 
 forward, to come to her under false pretences ? She 
 certainly deserved a more ardent love than he could 
 bestow, a warmer lover than he would become. If, as 
 he occasionally thought, she cared more for him than 
 he did for her, if she loved him sufficiently to accept 
 him, it would surely be an ill reward for her devotion 
 to give her mere friendship. But Ronald was not so 
 conceited as to be quite sure of the love which 
 his mother thought was undoubtedly his. In fact he 
 looked upon matters far too dispassionately to be 
 sanguine about anything. He was not sure of Edith's 
 feelings, and he was still more uncertain about Mr. 
 Woodall's views. To do him justice, the prospect 
 of a share in the Bank and of the affluence which 
 would follow, scarcely influenced him at all. He 
 could not at present afford to marry a penniless girl, 
 but then he was not bound to marry immediately.
 
 TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE? 75 
 
 He could wait till his position improved. He must 
 work for his living, and by-and-by, perhaps, he 
 would have earned a competence and could look out 
 for a wife without regard to her worldly means. 
 Ronald would certainly not marry some one he did not 
 care about, for the mere sake of wealth and position. 
 To sell himself, to owe all to a wife whom he did not 
 love, was a thought too horrible to contemplate ; and 
 he knew well that, anxious as his mother was to see 
 him comfortably settled, desirous as was his father 
 for his worldly prosperity, neither parent would urge 
 on him a distasteful match.
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 TWO BEFORE AND TWO AFTER. 
 
 * Have you thought that matter over, Eonald ?' said 
 Mrs. Lascelles the next morninsr, when Mr. Lascelles 
 had gone mto his office, and Teresina was practising 
 noisily rather than melodiously in what was formerly 
 the school-room. 
 
 * Yes, mother, and I cannot make up my mind,' re- 
 plied Ronald. 
 
 * Don't you like her after all ?' asked T^Irs. Lascelles. 
 
 ' I do like her very much, but I cannot make up 
 my mind that I love her enough to want to marry her.' 
 
 A look of anxiety passed over Mrs. Lascelles' face. 
 She rose from her chair, and approached her son, 
 placing a hand on his shoulder.
 
 TIFO BEFORE AND TIVO AFTER. 77 
 
 ' Ronald, is there anybody else ?' she asked, 
 fixing her eyes on his face with a look of grave 
 inquiry. 
 
 ' Oh no, mother dear,' he replied, more lightly than 
 she quite liked. 
 
 ' No one at all ? are you quite sure V she repeated. 
 * No lady of whom you are fond ? Tell me frankly, 
 my dear boy. If you have some engagement, some 
 fancy which you would rather not tell your father ' 
 
 ' Nothing of the sort, mother,' interrupted Ronald ; 
 ' nothing, upon my honour !' 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles kissed him warmly. ' I am so glad,' 
 she said, resuming her seat, while a look of pleasure 
 returned to her eyes. ' You would tell me if there 
 were, would you not ? I w^ould not scold you, child ; 
 I know young men are often foolish without being 
 really wicked.' 
 
 ' I would tell you anything, mother dear,' answered 
 Ronald, kissing her in turn ; ' even if I had done some-
 
 78 SUREL Y I UGHT TO LOVE HER ? 
 
 thing to be ashamed of. But fortunately I am quite 
 free.' 
 
 ' Then what can be your objection to Edith 
 Woodall V asked Mrs. Lascelles, returning: to her text. 
 
 * I have no objection to her at all/ said Konald. 
 ' I have told you the only reason why I cannot make 
 Tip my mind to propose to her.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Ronald ; you mean that you don't adore 
 her as if she were a goddess, and are not silly about 
 her ! I think you are much more likely to be happy 
 together than if your head were full of absurd ideas 
 about impossible perfection. She will make a most ex- 
 cellent wife, and I am quite sure the ridiculous love- 
 making one sometimes sees is quite sickening, and is 
 no proof of real affection at all.' 
 
 ' But surely I ought to love the girl whom I marry T 
 objected Ronald. 
 
 * Love ! of course you should love her. As a matter 
 of fact, I believe you do ; at any rate, quite enough for
 
 TPVO BEFORE AND TWO AFTER. 79 
 
 the present. If you are so lucky as to get her to say 
 yes, you will adore her before you have been married a 
 week. According to your standard I was never in 
 love with your father, nor did he ever go down on his 
 knees and worship me.' 
 
 Now this might be true, or it might not ; Mrs. 
 Lascelles certainly intended to tell the truth, but old 
 people sometimes forget what their feelings were 
 thirty years before. Whether she had passionately 
 loved her husband or not, Mrs. Lascelles had been a 
 devoted wife ; and though in early days surrounded by 
 good-looking Italians whose sole pursuit seemed to be 
 to pay her compliments and to make love to her if 
 she permitted it, she had never had the shadow of a 
 flirtation, and had accepted all the pretty things she 
 heard as so much rubbish which might amuse her, but 
 could not divert her thoughts for a moment from the 
 husband to whom she trusted implicitly, and who had 
 the same faith in her. There had been troubles in
 
 So NOT HIS IDEAL. 
 
 their early married life, but these troubles were 
 financial and political only. Never had the gloom of 
 doubt nor the darkness of jealousy been cast over their 
 path. They were perfectly happy Avith each other, 
 though happy in a quiet subdued manner which 
 might appear cold to some persons. Ronald had 
 never thought about his parents' married life for the 
 simple reason that there was nothing to make his 
 thoughts wander into that channel. They had always 
 got on very well together, though he heard his father 
 occasionally grumble, and his mother would some- 
 times say, ' Oh, how fidgety you are to-day, dear !' 
 But that v»^as the nearest approach to a quarrel that 
 had ever taken place in his presence ; and even this was 
 an event of rare occurrence. Now, however, that his 
 mother cited her case as an example of how happy 
 people could be together without any show of 
 passionate adoration, he began to doubt whether his 
 parents' married life was quite the ideal he dreamt
 
 TWO BEFORE AND TWO AFTER. 8i 
 
 of. The thought seemed unfilial and almost profane, 
 but was their affection not rather commonplace and 
 dull? 
 
 ' Of course your experience should guide me, 
 mother, he replied affectionately, sitting down at 
 her feet ; ' but I must confess I am rather nervous 
 about it.' 
 
 ' Shy ?' inquired Mrs. Lascelles ; ' surely not ?' 
 
 ' No. Not shy about speaking to Edith, I don't 
 mean that ; but nervous about the result of the 
 experiment. You see we can't get unmarried again 
 if we should not suit each other.' • 
 
 ' Trust me, my dear ' rephed his mother. ' When 
 you have been married six months to so sweet a girl 
 as Edith Woodall, you will wonder how on earth you 
 ever managed to Hve without her !' 
 
 Ronald laughed. 
 
 ' It is nothing to laugh at,' continued she ; ' it is quite 
 true. And now I have lost Clara it would make me 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 WANTED— A DAUGHTER. 
 
 very happy to have another daughter to love. You 
 could not bring me one whom I could love better than 
 Edith; 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles spoke rather sadly ; Clara had at one 
 time been quite in sympathy with her mother, but 
 her letters now showed her to be becoming more and 
 more a member of the Stent family. They told of 
 new dresses, and grand dinners, and household details ; 
 but Mrs. Lascelles did not find in them that con- 
 fidential interchange of ideas and hopes, of thoughts 
 which she believed she had a right to expect. 
 
 Teresina was still very young, and her mother 
 missed the eldest daughter more than she cared to 
 confess even to herself. There was, therefore, a tiny 
 spice of very pardonable selfishness in the advice she 
 was giving her son. 
 
 ' You seem so very sure of the matter, mother,' said 
 Ronald. ' You don't seem quite to understand me. 
 We are not all made alike, you know.'
 
 TIVO BEFORE AND TWO AFTER. 83 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles looked up inquiringly, ' Is there any- 
 thing new to understand ? It appears to me plain 
 and straightforward enough. Here is a nice girl who 
 I believe is ready to marry you, and who I know 
 would make you thoroughly happy. She has money, 
 too, which is an additional advantage, and the only 
 objection you raise, having no attachment elsewhere, 
 is that you are afraid you will not love her well 
 enough. My dear boy, I am quite satisfied that your 
 scruples are exaggerated and mistaken. You will 
 make her an excellent husband, and you will be as 
 happy as the day is long. If you don't say anything 
 to-day, at any rate you should speak to her at Cavaliere 
 Donati's to-morrow ; you must not delay too much, for 
 I can tell you that Edith Woodall is much admired, 
 and will not remain unmarried long.' 
 
 StiU Ronald was not quite satisfied. There was no 
 one more competent to advise him than his mother, 
 and he ought to have been satisfied, but he was not. 
 
 6—2
 
 84 A DILA TOR Y LOVER. 
 
 He spent the evening at home, and was very happy 
 with his sister and his sister's friends. They talked 
 and played at table-turning, and had a little music, 
 and were altogether a jovial little party. When old 
 Marietta came to fetch her young mistress, Mrs. 
 Lascelles gave Ronald a meaning look. It was 
 perversity on his part not to understand it, but he 
 pretended to be deep in a conversation with Signora 
 Boticelli, the mother of one of the girls. He did not 
 wish to walk home with Edith ; he might be tempted 
 to say something he would afterwards regret. He 
 would like another night to think it over. 
 
 But when Teresina innocently said, ' Ronald, surely 
 you are going to see Edith home,' as if she had been 
 egged on by Mrs. Lascelles, there was no excuse 
 handy. A glance of pleasure flashed across Edith's 
 face, but she protested. It was quite unnecessary; 
 Marietta could take care of her well enough ; the 
 Tramontana was so cold, and so on. But of course
 
 TIVO BEFORE AXD TWO AFTER. 85 
 
 Ronald insisted oa escorting her, and having donned 
 his oYercoat, otiered her his arm T^hen they reached 
 the streets. Such a thing was not usual in Portino, 
 where Italian customs, so strict in some respects and 
 so lax in others, had overridden their English 
 habits. Ronald would not have been surprised if she 
 had refused the support, for in Portino if a girl walked 
 up the Via ]^Iarina on a young man's arm. they were 
 at once supposed to be engaged. So he rather Hghtly 
 and maliciously resolved to consider her response to 
 his otfer as a test of her feelings towards him. If she 
 declined, he would not risk a more important request : 
 if she accepted, it should mean that she would accept 
 his hand as well. Of course the test was not a fair 
 one, for poor Edith could not guess what was passing 
 in his mind, and might very well have refused to give 
 late wayfarers in Portino an opportunity for gossip. 
 Ronald himself was conscious of the absurdity of the 
 ordeal, but nevertheless he stuck out his arm in a deter-
 
 86 THE MARCHESE BELLA ROCCA: 
 
 mined manner. And his heart beat faster than usual 
 as he did so. There was a moment's hesitation ; Edith 
 looked up at him doubtfully. After all, thought 
 Ronald, my mother was wrong. But then the little 
 hand was placed gently on the rough coat, and 
 Ronald could not help feeling gratified. It is always 
 pleasant to think that an attractive girl likes you, 
 even if you are not prepared to marry her on the 
 spot. The distance to Casa Woodall was far too short 
 for much conversation. But it led along the broad 
 Yia Marina, past the brightly lighted fagade of the 
 Casino Nobile. As they approached the door of this 
 building, two young men emerged, and met them 
 rather abruptly. After a short stare of surprise one 
 of them made a most elaborate bow to Miss Woodall, 
 and both of them of course stepped aside. Edith re- 
 turned the bow, which made Ronald ask her whether 
 she knew the man. 
 
 ' It is the ^larchese della Rocca,' replied she. ' He
 
 TIVO BEFORE AND TWO AFTER. 87 
 
 brought letters to papa, and is stopping here for a 
 little while ; I believe he is a friend of the Donatis, 
 too.' 
 
 ' Then I suppose he will be at their dance to-morrow V 
 
 ' Oh yes, of course. He has asked me for a dance 
 already.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Ronald, displeased, though he scarcely 
 knew Avhy, save that the short glance he had had of 
 the Marchese had not produced a pleasant impression. 
 ' Will you keep a couple of dances for me, Miss 
 Woodall ?' he added, after a moment's interval. 
 
 ' Certainly, if you wish,' replied the girl, with alacrity. 
 
 This made Ronald bolder. ' Two before supper and 
 two after ?' he suggested. 
 
 ' Is not that rather too many ?' asked Edith, smiling. 
 
 ' No, not half enough !' he exclaimed, as they 
 reached the banker's door. 
 
 ' Will you come in V inquired Edith ; * I am sure 
 papa is still up.'
 
 88 'IT IS A promise: 
 
 Konald declined. He was not going to disturb Mr. 
 Woodall at eleven o'clock. But as lie took leave 
 under the jpovte cochere, he said : ' Mind, two dances 
 before supper and two afterwards ; I will be there 
 early, and will ask nobody till I have seen your card.' 
 
 ' That will be very unkind to the other girls,' said 
 Edith. 
 
 * They must get on without me till you come,' he re- 
 plied, laughing ; ' I dare say they will do very well. 
 Good-night, Miss Woodall. ' Mind,' he added, holding 
 her little hand longer than was quite necessary, ' it is a 
 promise.' 
 
 ' It shall be, if you like. Good-night, and thank 
 you so much for bringing me home.^
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 
 
 The dance at the Donatis' was to be the last of the 
 Portino season, and their large rooms were quite fitted 
 to give a crowning finish to a lively winter. Italian 
 palazzi are not comfortable for a small family when 
 the Tramontana blows, and English people then sigh 
 for a snug little home in a London street ; but when a 
 hundred people meet, and more than half of them 
 want to dance, the advantages are all on the side of the 
 vast rooms and the scanty furniture. Everybody worth 
 knowing in Portino was invited, and as there was no 
 competing assembly, nearly everybody came. Ronald 
 arrived early^ escorting his mother and Teresina, in
 
 90 RONALDS OPINION. 
 
 whose favour an exception was made on this occasion, 
 as she was not what we call ' out.' Father and son, 
 having made their bows, walked through the rooms 
 together. 
 
 ' Do you know anything of that man, father ?' asked 
 Konald, pointing out to the Consul the Marchese della 
 Kocca, who, with his opera-hat under his arm, was 
 bowing deeply to Signora Donati. 
 
 ' I believe he is a very distinguished young man,' 
 replied Mr. Lascelles. ' He is one of the Della Roccas, 
 the old Tuscan family, you know. They have enor- 
 mous property near Sienna.' 
 
 'What brings him to Portino, I wonder?' said 
 Ronald. 
 
 ' That is more that I can tell you, my boy,' replied 
 the Consul. ' Probably he is merely amusing himself, 
 like most of these young Italians. I understand that 
 he is the chief of the eldest branch, and very well off 
 indeed. His father died last vear.'
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 91 
 
 ' He is a beast, anyhow/ remarked Ronald. 
 
 ' I don't see it/ replied Mr. Lascelles ; ' I think he's 
 very good-looking.' 
 
 But Ronald stuck to his opinion. No doubt the 
 Marchese's appearance seemed to challenge public 
 taste. His face was undoubtedly handsome — accord- 
 ing to a certain standard. He had fine large black 
 eyes, a formidable moustache twisted up at the points, 
 a small straight nose, and a well-cut chin. But the 
 way in which the man spoke and moved, nay, the 
 mere shape of his collar was, in Ronald's opinion, 
 sufficient for any well-regulated English gentleman *to 
 wish to kick him downstairs. He sniffed what his 
 father was too old, or too Italian, to notice — the vain- 
 glorious air of the foreign lady-killer, than which 
 nothing more offensive has ever existed. Delia 
 Rocca's low forehead was just high enough to contain 
 mean thoughts behind it, and no more. 
 
 Ronald well knew the class of which this was a
 
 92 GOLDEN YOUTH. 
 
 superfine type ; knew them too well. To him, born 
 and bred as he had been in Portino, these young 
 Italians had no secrets. Their bragging ways, their 
 shabby tricks, the coarseness of their feelings under 
 the gentlest manners, were familiar to him. Scarcely 
 two of the young members of the Casino Nobile but 
 had been guilty of acts which would have ensured 
 their expulsion from English society — scarce one whose 
 life would have borne even superficial examination by 
 an English father. To be known for having broken 
 women's hearts, and to have won large sums at cards, 
 was the summit of their ambition ; to break these 
 hearts and to win money were the objects of their 
 lives. Nothing that was not punishable by law was 
 dishonourable ; and many crimes of the penal code 
 were venial if undetected. To lie was no disgrace, 
 though to be found out and publicly accused of a lie 
 was cause for a duel. Yet these very men, men who 
 never read anything except the daily political rag.
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 93 
 
 men who spent their time in smoking and gambhng 
 or making false love, had polished ways, enchanting 
 voices, and an ease of manner which most English- 
 men could envy, without being able to imitate. They 
 did not wash except, once in a way, for a ball, or in 
 very hot weather, but they looked clean. They never 
 washed away their vices, but they appeared virtuous. 
 
 The Marchese had more money than most of them, 
 and as he spent it freely he was popular among men 
 of his age. But he strove not for popularity among 
 men, but for the love of women, and he looked like it. 
 To Ronald he appeared as if ' liar ' and ' seducer ' had 
 been written in black letters on his white, smooth 
 forehead. His dress alone would have justified an 
 assault. An enormous open collar, of which the 
 corners were thrown back at a sharp angle, so as to 
 display the throat, a waistcoat cut down extremely 
 low, a gorgeously embroidered shirt-front with diamond 
 studs, a whole bundle of miniature decorations in the
 
 94 THE FIRST IN THE FIELD. 
 
 button-hole of the satin-faced dress-coat. All seemed 
 to say : ' Look what a fine fellow I am !' But then Ronald 
 was cross, and he knew more of the Italian jeunesse 
 doT^e than most people, and possibly he made Delia 
 Eocca out to be a greater villain than the handsome 
 young man really was. 
 
 At this moment Edith swept into the room with 
 her father. Ronald hastily stepped forward, and was 
 chagrined to see the Marchese seize the girl's card 
 while he himself, as in duty bound, shook hands and 
 exchanged a few words with Mr. Woodall. When at 
 last he obtained the coveted bit of pasteboard, he 
 noticed 'R' scribbled over it in too many places to 
 please him. But there were several blanks, and four 
 of them were soon filled by his own initials. Young 
 Donati claimed Edith for the first dance, and then 
 the Marchese came and swept her off. 
 
 She had certainly never looked better. Even the 
 hideous crinoline of the period did not disfigure her.
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 95 
 
 Clad in white, with bouquets of real violets set round 
 the top of her dress and catching up the ample gauze- 
 like folds of her skirts, her fair shoulders seemed to 
 gain by comparison with the tarletan. Her soft hair 
 was full of golden flashes in the light of the candles, 
 and her large dark eyes, deep with a pure maiden's 
 thoughts, glanced quickly and kindly from one to 
 another of her friends as she floated round the room 
 to the seductive strains of ' II Bacio.' Ronald thought 
 that the way that Italian hound stooped over her, till 
 his long moustache swept her soft cheek, was posi- 
 tively disgusting. And she appeared to him almost 
 beautiful. That she was the best dressed girl in the 
 room was certain, and he began to believe that she 
 was one of the prettiest. 
 
 The waltz was at last over. Ronald rushed up and 
 claimed the next, nor would he leave her side, forcinor 
 the Italian at last to walk off with a suave bow. 
 
 ' What a lovely bouquet !' exclaimed Ronald, as
 
 96 * IVHV DO YOU CALL HLM A BEAS7 f 
 
 Edith smelt the violets and white roses she held in 
 her hand. 
 
 ' Yes, is it not ?' said the girl. ' The Marchese sent 
 it this afternoon. It suits my dress exactly. After 
 all, there is no place like dear old Portino for flowers.' 
 
 ' D n the Marchese !' exclaimed Ronald, under 
 
 his breath. ' Do you like that beast ?' he asked 
 aloud. 
 
 ' Which beast ?' inquired Edith, surprised, and 
 looking round, as if she expected to see an ape or a 
 €at in the room. 
 
 ' Delia Rocca, of course,' answered he. 
 
 ' What language, Mr. Lascelles ! Why do you call 
 him a beast ? I think he is very nice, and he dances 
 beautifully.' 
 
 ' I call him a beast because I know the sort of 
 fellow,' answered Ronald. 
 
 ' You seem to judge very quickly,' replied Edith. 
 
 * Yes ; quickly, but justly. You cannot, of course,
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 97 
 
 know. Young ladies are not expected to know, but 
 lie is the last man I would like my sister to dance 
 with.' 
 
 Miss Woodall looked much surprised, and Ronald 
 had scarcely uttered the words before he repented. 
 It was a mean trick thus to slander a man of whom 
 he knew nothincc unfavourable, and he was ashamed 
 of himself directly. Just then the music began. In 
 a pause of the polka he returned to the subject. 
 
 ' I spoke hastily about Delia Rocca just now. Miss 
 Woodall ; I really know nothing whatever against 
 him. But the fact is, I hate him because be admires 
 you. That is the long and short of it, and I may as 
 well confess at once.' 
 
 Edith blushed a little, but answered lightly : 
 
 'Then you won't have many people to hate, Mr. 
 Lascelles.' 
 
 ' Delia Rocca, at all events,' he replied. ' Why, he 
 cannot take his eyes off you ! Look at him now.' 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 SOMETHING LIKE A DANCE! 
 
 ' Shall we go on ?' asked Edith, to get away from 
 the subject which could not be agreeable to her, for 
 while she was not able to pretend to dislike the 
 fascinating Marchese, who had made himself very 
 pleasant during their short acquaintance, she did not 
 wish to quarrel over him with her old friend and ally 
 Konald. 
 
 So they again dashed into the dance. Edith under- 
 stood the polka better than most English girls. With 
 her it was not two hops forward with a kick, two hops 
 back again with another kick, and then several hops 
 round with more kicks. When she and Ronald 
 danced it, the polka became as smooth and graceful as 
 the waltz, with far greater variety. Without getting 
 out of time they could swing slowly and talk, or 
 twist easily and with no apparent effort through a 
 crowd of hoppers, whose heels threatened at every 
 moment to come down heavily and sharply on the 
 toes of other dancers. Or, when there was room, they
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. . 99 
 
 could glide swiftly backwards across the smooth par- 
 quet, or fly in swift gyrations round the fringe of the 
 dowagers and wallflowers. 
 
 Delia Rocca watched them intently, but there was 
 no frown visible on Ids face as there was on Ronald's 
 when he, in turn, had to watch the Italian leading Miss 
 Woodall through the then fashionable lancers. The 
 Marchese talked much to his partner in that low rich 
 voice so often heard in Italy. There was an air of 
 confiding secrecy about him even when he made the 
 most commonplace remark. He spoke, too, with his 
 expressive eyes, which now flashed in fun, then again 
 cast tender glances, but were always turned in admira- 
 tion towards Edith. She seemed to be amused and 
 interested, and to listen to the handsome Italian with 
 increasing attention. Not once did Ronald catch her 
 eyes straying to where he was leaning moodily against 
 a pillar. He could see her well from where he stood, 
 and whenever the maze of the lancers cut off a full 
 
 7—2
 
 loo A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR. 
 
 view for a moment, lie could still distinguish her fair 
 head bending towards the Marchese, and harkening to 
 his honeyed words. 
 
 It was a bad quarter of an hour for Ronald, because 
 he was beset with doubts and anxieties. He told 
 himself that he was not jealous. He would not have 
 minded it a bit if Donati or young Wells had started 
 a mild flirtation with Miss Woodall ; but it galled 
 him bitterly that she should listen to this abominable 
 creature, to this Marchese, whose very thoughts were 
 hideous and revolting, whose very touch was defiling, 
 whose soft speech and gentle manners were only a 
 veneer which covered a cold and rotten heart. He 
 could see through that thin coat of veneer; how 
 strange that neither Edith nor his own father, nor 
 hers, could perceive anything dangerous in the 
 fascinations of the handsome youth. If he had 
 decided to ask Edith to become his wife it would be a 
 very different matter. Then he would see his way.
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. loi 
 
 He could even now take the first opportunity to pro- 
 pose, and if slie said yes, he would make use of his rights 
 at once, while if she refused him he would leave her 
 to the Marchese's wiles. 
 
 Should he do so ? Should he speak out during the 
 next dance, which was to be his ? Even yet, stimulated 
 as he was by his dislike of Delia Rocca, he could not 
 make up his mind to the final plunge. He knew 
 himself too well to trust his impulse. He argued 
 with himself that he was irritated, cross, and even 
 jealous, and therefore in no fit condition to take so 
 important a step. Then the dance was over and he 
 saw the Marchese lead his partner into the tea-room. 
 He found her there ten minutes later, sitting in the 
 embrasure of a window, half concealed by the curtains. 
 She was toying with her fan and looking down, while 
 the Italian was whispering soft nonsense in her ear; 
 and his bold gaze was fixed on her fair face, and 
 striving to catch a glance from her averted eyes.
 
 102 COMPLIMENTS. 
 
 Ronald exercised all the self-control of which he was 
 capable, and walked very composedly up to the 
 couple. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Miss Woodall/ he said calmly ; 
 ' I think this is my waltz. They are just beginning.' 
 
 Edith started, and dropped her fan, which the 
 Italian picked up and handed to her with a sigh. 
 
 ' I am utterly desolated,' he whispered, loud enough 
 for Ronald to hear, ' to have to resign that beautiful 
 hand. From heaven I descend to purgatory. But 
 the tortures of purgatory are not eternal, you know. 
 You will be the kind angel to raise me once more, will 
 you not, cai'isshna signorina ?' 
 
 Then he rose quietly^ made her a dignified bow, 
 and moved away, not deigning even to look at 
 Ronald. 
 
 The latter now spoke in the usual ball-room tones 
 of easy persiflage, resolutely beating down his anger 
 at what he termed the Italian's impertinence.
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 103 
 
 *You are really flirting dreadfully with the Mar- 
 chese !' he said, as Edith took his arm. 
 
 ' Am I V she asked innocently. ' I really did not 
 know it.' 
 
 ' Why, you knew he was making love to you most 
 audaciously !' exclaimed Ronald. ' He called you his 
 angel and his dearest !' 
 
 ' Did he V again inquired Edith rather maliciously. 
 * I dare say.' 
 
 ' Well ? and you listened to it all quietly, and took 
 it in quite easily, as if you liked it.' 
 
 * Oh !' she replied ; ' all Italians talk a great 
 deal of nonsense. They think themselves bound 
 to say absurd things to every girl they dance 
 with.' 
 
 ' Do they all talk like the Marchese ?' inquired 
 Ronald. 
 
 ' Some of them. Not quite all, perhaps. I am quite 
 used to it, and it goes in at one ear and out at the
 
 104 THE ITALIAN STYLE. 
 
 other. But tliey are very amusing and nice, and the 
 Marchese dances beautifully.' 
 
 In the intervals of the valse Konald returned to the 
 charge. 
 
 'You do not attach much importance to the 
 romantic declarations of Delia Kocca ?' he asked. 
 
 ' Certainly not. That style is usual here. It's more 
 amusing, though, than to have a partner who can 
 only talk about the weather, like some of papa's 
 English friends.' 
 
 *I admit that,' answered Konald. 'It is more 
 amusing, but more dangerous.' 
 
 ' Dangerous ? I don't think so,' said Edith. ' I 
 know how to take care of myself, Mr. Lascelles.' 
 
 ' Are you quite sure ? You see, Miss Woodall, I 
 should not mind if I were quite certain that you took 
 all these compliments and enthusiastic declarations for 
 what they are worth. But I am afraid you believe 
 half of them.'
 
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 105 
 
 ' That is not a particularly civil speech/ remarked 
 Edith. ' You don't think I am worthy of them, then V 
 she asked archly. 
 
 ' Worthy !' exclaimed Ronald ; ' you are far too 
 good for any of these wretches. It is because I think 
 so much of you that I bore you with my warnings.' 
 
 ' There is your prejudice again,' said Edith, holding 
 up her finger. 
 
 ' No, indeed, no prejudice. But will you give me 
 the supper dance, Miss Woodall ? This has been such 
 a short one, because I did not find you till it was 
 nearly half over,' Ronald asked hastily, for young 
 Donati was approaching to claim his partner, and she 
 would be hurried away in a moment. 
 
 Edith gave him her card. There was an ' R ' very 
 distinctly and largely writ at the line corresponding 
 to the supper dance. Ronald very deliberately drew 
 out his pencil, scratched out the 'R,' and wrote 
 ' Lascelles ' in the blackest characters over it.
 
 ^ 
 
 io6 CUTOUT! 
 
 * Thank you, Miss Woodall/ he said, returning the 
 card. 
 
 Then he went off to dance with Miss Donati, and 
 afterwards gave Teresina a turn, as he termed it. But 
 he was careful to be close to Edith at the end of the 
 quadrille which preceded the supper dance, and 
 hardly had the music ceased when he claimed her 
 from Mr. Paull, a mild young Englishman who was 
 travelling in Italy with his tutor. 
 
 In a minute the Marchese came up to the couple, 
 who were walking up and down the scclon, waiting for 
 the music to begin. He accosted Edith with his 
 usual deep bow : 
 
 'Signorina,' he said, 'I think that you were so 
 gracious as to promise me the pleasure.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Marchese ; I am engaged.' 
 
 * Yes, signorina, to your devoted slave,' said Delia 
 Kocca, bowing again, without appearing to notice 
 Konald.
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 107 
 
 ' Signorina Woodall has promised me this dance/ 
 said the latter. 
 
 The Marchese still did not look at him, but turned 
 again, appealing to Edith. 
 
 ' Mr. Lascelles' name is down, I believe,' she said, 
 handing her card to Delia Rocca. 
 
 The latter glanced at it, and then returned it with 
 another deep bow : 
 
 'Pardon me, signorina; I have made a mistake. 
 What would you ? The wish is often father to the 
 thought. A thousand excuses, I pray.' • 
 
 And he retired. But this time he shot one look of 
 deep meaning at Ronald, who caught himself blushing 
 violently. 
 
 ' After all, I think I must have been engaged to the 
 Marchese,' said Edith, looking at her card carefully 
 after they had taken a few turns round the room. 
 ' Mr. Lascelles, you scratched his name out !' 
 
 ' I did,' said Ronald quietly.
 
 io8 ' I MUST apologize: 
 
 'How dared you?' asked Edith, but not by any 
 means as if she were much vexed. 
 
 ' Simply because I wanted to dance with you my- 
 self, and take you in to supper.' 
 
 ' How did you know that I should permit such a 
 thing ?' she inquired. ' Now you must take me to the 
 Marchese at once, and I will apologize. He is in the 
 corner there.' 
 
 ' Indeed you will do no such thing,' replied Konald. 
 ' Is it such a great sacrifice then ? Have you been 
 deprived of a very great pleasure ?' 
 
 ' Nonsense !' she answered. ' But it was very rude 
 of me.' 
 
 ' The rudeness was not yours, since you knew 
 nothing about it,' said Konald. ' Now, let things 
 alone, please do. What is the use of making such 
 a fuss about it ? Come, let us take one more 
 turn/ 
 
 And Edith Avas whirled awa}^, not unwillingly. She
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL, 109 
 
 did not really care one bit about dancing with Delia 
 Rocca, and mucb preferred having Ronald's compara« 
 tively prosaic talk to the Italian's flowery and ex- 
 aggerated compliments. Though she pretended to 
 attribute Ronald's warnings entirely to prejudice, she 
 was herself dimly conscious that some of the Mar- 
 chese's speeches were not quite such as he ought to 
 address to a young unmarried lady. 
 
 Too pure herself to know anything of evil, yet, her 
 perceptions being awakened by Ronald's hatred of the 
 ItaHan, she had noticed something in his tone and 
 manner which was disagreeable, and some mysterious 
 meaning seemed to lurk in his honeyed words and 
 soft smiles, which she was absolutely disinclined to 
 fathom. So, on the whole_, she was by no means sorry 
 not to have the Marchese's company during the supper 
 interval, which, at the Palazzo Donati, was no brief 
 pause between the dances. The Donatis prided them- 
 selves on doing things well, alV Inglese, and the
 
 A SQUARE PARTY. 
 
 supper was a very different affair to the weak tea and 
 cakes usual at Portino dances. 
 
 There was room for everyone to sit down at the 
 little tables set out in the great hall, which was one 
 of the features of the palace. A numerous array of 
 liveried servants brought what was required; there 
 was no squeezing and hustling, nor urgent demands 
 for champagne and pressing requests for the leg of a 
 fowl. Young Donati, with Teresina on his arm, saw 
 Konald and Edith looking for a table. 
 
 ' Come with us, caro Kinaldo,' he exclaimed ; ' here 
 in this corner. I have a charming 2:)osto reserved 
 for us.' 
 
 They agreed willingly, and there was a merry little 
 ixirtie carrde in that distant corner. They were all 
 on excellent terms with each other, and even had 
 they been inclined to be dull, which they were not, 
 Teresina's intense delight at this her first ball, would 
 have kept them going. The Marchese was invisible,
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. in 
 
 and Ronald, having forgotten his doubts and worries, 
 was as merry as any of them. It was some time 
 before they broke up, and, as a matter of course, 
 Ronald led off his unresisting partner to the after- 
 supper waltz, always the best of the evening. 
 
 Edith had lost her card, not perhaps without a little 
 assistance from Ronald, who had slyly removed it 
 from the supper-table, and torn it into small pieces. 
 At any rate. Miss Woodall knew not to whom she was 
 engaged, and danced away with Ronald as if cards 
 had never been invented. The Marchese did not 
 come near her. Donati frankly volunteered to give 
 up the next galop in favour of Ronald, if Teresina 
 would dance with him instead; and as the little 
 maid was nothing loth, the exchange was effected. 
 
 Soon, too soon, Mrs. Lascelles rustled up to warn 
 them that it was time to depart. Mr. Woodall, too, 
 appeared from the card-room, and casually mentioned 
 that it was past three o'clock. Teresina was the most
 
 112 A CONGRATULATION. 
 
 unwilling to go, but at last the three ladies descended 
 the wide stairs to the cloak-room. Ronald fetched 
 his overcoat, and waited for them in the hall. At 
 that moment the Marchese stepped up to him^ 
 dangling one glove in his hand in a nonchalant way : 
 
 * A thousand pardons, signore/ he said very gently ; 
 * permit me to ask you a question.' 
 
 ' Go ahead/ said Ronald, surprised. 
 
 * Excuse me again,' continued Delia Rocca, 'but 
 may I congratulate the charming Signorina Edit ? 
 
 ' What about ?' asked Ronald gruffly. 
 
 'About her betrothal to you, signore. You, of 
 course, are still more to be congratulated. That is 
 understood. But not having until now the honour of 
 your acquaintance, I would wish to present my 
 homages and most respectful good wishes to the 
 lovely bride.' 
 
 * What do you mean ? I am not engaged to Miss 
 Woodall,' answered Ronald sharply.
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 113 
 
 ' Then, signore,' said the Italian, in a grave tone, 
 * you must understand that I cannot allow my name 
 on a lady's card to be erased by a stranger. Consider 
 yourself souffleU, if you please.' 
 
 And with these words he raised his hand and 
 lightly passed the glove across Konald's face. Several 
 young men were about, and they sprang forward 
 hastily. Ronald lifted his arm to knock Delia Rocca 
 down, when it was seized by Stornello. 
 
 ' Don't make a row here !' he whispered quickly, 
 for just then the ladies came out of the cloak-room. 
 ' See the women into the carriage, and we will talk 
 presently.' 
 
 Ronald had flushed scarlet, and restrained himself 
 with the greatest difficulty. At that moment Donati 
 rushed downstairs to bid the ladies farewell, and in 
 his impetuosity almost knocked the two young men 
 over. 
 
 ' A thousand pardons !' he said. ' Caro Rinaldo, I 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 I'LL FIGHT. 
 
 nearly upset 3^011. 1 was hurrying to make my re- 
 verence to your charming mother and sister.' 
 
 The youth's bhindering helped Eonald and Stor- 
 nello over the awkward moment. The ladies were 
 helped into the carriage, and he told Mrs. Lascelles 
 that he would walk home and smoke a cigar. The 
 Marchese was one of the group under the j)urie 
 cocker e^ and bowed deferentially to Edith as she 
 stepped into her father's brougham. When it had 
 rolled away Stornello turned to Ronald. 
 
 ' You are among us here in Italy, my friend, and 
 you must fight/ 
 
 * Of course I'll fight !' exclaimed Ronald. ' I'll give 
 that blackguard a jolly good hiding. Let us get out 
 and set to at once.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid this will hardly do,' whispered he. ' You 
 have been grossly insulted before all these men ' — and 
 indeed a group round the Marchese were talking fast 
 to each other, gesticulating and looking towards
 
 A VERY GOOD BALL. 115 
 
 Ronald — ' and you must fight a duel en regie, if you 
 do not wish to be disgraced in Portino.' 
 
 ' All right,' answered Ronald. ' Go and tell him so. 
 Anything you please, as long as I can give the fellow 
 -a lesson.' 
 
 Count Stornello stepped towards the group, bowing. 
 The men fell back at once, so that he could a23proacli 
 the Marchese della Rocca, .who was leaning against a. 
 pillar twisting a cigarette. 
 
 ' Marchese,' he said, ' I have had the honour of 
 meeting you at the Club. I am Count Stor- 
 nello.' 
 
 Della Rocca inclined his head slightly. 
 
 ' You have insulted my friend, Signer Rinaldo 
 Lascelles, and he demands satisfaction.' 
 
 ' Gia' murmured Della Rocca, ao^ain bowin^^:. 
 
 * Will you give me the name of some gentleman 
 who will arrange preliminaries ?' asked the Count. 
 
 'The Signer Guarini will do everything that is 
 
 8—2
 
 ii6 A CHALLENGE. 
 
 required,' said tlie Marchese, pointing to a military 
 looking man of about thirty. 
 
 Signer Guarini bowed, and Delia Rocca slowly passed 
 out at the ijovte cocker e, saying : 
 
 ' A rivedere, signori. I shall wait for you at the 
 Club.'
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CASINO NOBTLE. 
 
 All this had not passed without attracting a certain 
 amount of attention. Several men had witnessed 
 the insult, and some had joined the group under the 
 entrance as the ball drew near its end. Count. Stor- 
 nello, who was a young man of Ronald's age, and had 
 not lived in Italy all his life without several ' affairs of 
 honour,' was equal to the occasion. 
 
 ' Signori,' he began in a clear but subdued voice, 
 * let us all go away at once. This unfortunate dis- 
 cussion must be concluded without any scandal, which 
 would be most annoying to our hospitable friends 
 here.'
 
 i8 KEEP IT QUIET. 
 
 There was a murmur of approbation. 
 
 'Signor Lascelles and the Marchese della Rocca 
 Avill have had a dispute over cards at the Casino. 
 K inteso V 
 
 There was another murmur of assent. 
 
 ' And," he went on, ' all of you being galanV uomini^ 
 the authorities will know nothing of this business 
 until it is over.' 
 
 He then took Ronald's arm and walked out. 
 
 ' We must find another second,' he said, when they 
 were alone. 'I should like someone rather more 
 experienced than myself. Of whom could you think?' 
 
 It was difficult to think of anyone at the moment, 
 and yet both were very unwilling to postpone matters. 
 
 'You cannot fight till Saturday, at any rate,' re- 
 marked the Count. It was already Friday morning. 
 
 * I should like to go and fight now,' said Ronald. 
 
 ' That is out of the question, friend. People do not go 
 out direct from a ball unless the offence is a mortal one/
 
 THE CASINO MOBILE. 119 
 
 * So it is/ exclaimed Konald hotly. 
 
 * Pooh ! nonsense. The glove did not hurt. You 
 will soon wipe that insult out, and teach the Marquis 
 better manners. I think on the whole it will now be 
 best for us to go to the Club for ten minutes, so as to 
 give colour to the story about a quarrel at cards. You 
 would not like Miss Woodall's name mixed up with 
 this affair, would you V 
 
 * Indeed not,' replied Eonald ; ' not for worlds.' 
 
 * Then come along. I will arrange it."* 
 
 It was not as easy to arrange as the Count had 
 supposed. Delia Rocca did not seem to care about 
 the young lady's name being kept out of the affair. 
 In truth, he would have desired it to be proclaimed 
 loudly that he was fighting for the blue eyes of Sig- 
 norina Edit. But pressure was put on him by Guarini 
 and other members of the Club, and, after much 
 mysterious whispering in corners, a little card-party 
 was arranged in one of the private rooms. It was
 
 I20 EC ARTE. 
 
 painful to Ronald to have to expose himself to a 
 second insult, even though it might only be a piece 
 or acting. He sat down to ecarte, with the Count at 
 his elbow to prompt him, while Guarini and Carda- 
 villa supported the Marchese. Delia Rocca paid no 
 attention at all to the cards, while Ronald was far too 
 excited to distinguish hearts from diamonds. 
 
 * Mark three,' whispered Stornello to Ronald. He 
 did so. When the cards were next dealt he turned 
 up a king and made the trick. 
 
 * Game !' said Ronald. 
 
 * Excuse me, signore,' observed Delia Rocca. ' You 
 made the trick, and marked the king. That is two.' 
 
 ' Well,' observed Ronald, obedient to his friend's 
 whisper. * And three before makes game.' 
 
 ' You had only two points before !' exclaimed the 
 Marchese. 
 
 ' It is a lie,' shouted Ronald, forgetting his part, 
 and determined that the first insult should not come 
 from his adversary this time.
 
 THE CASINO NO BILE. 121 
 
 In a second he had the cards thrown into his face 
 by the Marchese, and there was a tremendous noise, 
 all jumping to their feet and talking at once. 
 
 ' You fool,' hissed the Count into Ronald's ear. 
 'Now he is the insulted party, and may claim the 
 choice of w^eapons.' 
 
 ' For goodness sake let this farce come to an end,* 
 xeplied the young man, impatiently. * I don't care wl: at 
 I chastise him with. A stick is good enough for me.' 
 
 * Patience, patience !' said the Italian. ' Now go 
 home quietly, and I will come and see you in the 
 morning. Mind you get to sleep at once !' 
 
 Ronald squeezed the proffered hand, and obeyed 
 without a word. He lighted a cigar at the door 
 almost mechanically, and slowly walked towards 
 home in a sort of dream. Was he asleep, or had he 
 taken too much wine ? Was all this reality ? Should 
 he have to meet another man in deadly combat within 
 the next few hours ? In a moment something had
 
 STRANGE THOUGHTS. 
 
 happened which might cut off his hfe on its threshold, 
 or be the cause of taking away that of a man no older 
 than himself. It was too strange, too surprising to be 
 real ; it must all be an illusion ! Yet he still felt the 
 hot blood rise to his face when he thought of Delia. 
 Kocca's glove, so it must be real after all. It had all 
 taken place in a very short time. When he reached 
 the Consulate he could still see a light in his mother's. 
 room. He threw off his overcoat, and his eyes fell on 
 a white rose, still full of perfume though half-faded. 
 It was one Edith had given him out of her bouquet 
 during the after-supper dance. 
 
 *Poor child,' he thought. 'If she had suspected 
 that my scratching that brute's name out would lead to 
 this, I should not have persuaded her so easily to stick 
 to me. She is a dear, nice girl ! I wish I loved her, I 
 dearly wish it. But pah ! I must not get sentimental/ 
 
 He took the rose out of his button-hole, once more 
 inhaled its fragrance, full of sweet memories, and
 
 THE CASINO NODILE. . 12.^ 
 
 placed it carefully in his pocket-book. Then he 
 obeyed Stornello's orders by going to bed. He was 
 quite sure he could not sleep, for the events of the 
 evening had been too exciting. But he was mistaken. 
 In a very few minutes he calmed down, for after all,, 
 thought he, nearly every one of these Italians he de- 
 spised so much had had at least one duel, and they were 
 none the worse. Besides, he had as good a chance of 
 killing as of being killed, and though he did not like 
 to contemplate Avhat his after-life would be if he cut 
 short that of the Marchess, yet his hatred of him was. 
 so great that he dropped off into a dreamless sleep 
 with his fists clenched. 
 
 Indistinct visions of ball-rooms, flowers^ and small 
 swords, young men with offensively low collars, 
 and of a dark girl with a dazzling complexion 
 and full lips, not a bit like Edith, flitted through his 
 brain, but they scarcely disturbed him. The bright 
 Italian sun was already high when he was roused by
 
 124 AN A WAKENING. 
 
 a knock at the door, to which he murmured the tradi- 
 tional ' Avanii /' 
 
 It was Giuseppe, the ' odd man ' at the Consulate, 
 who cleaned boots and knives, ran errands, and did 
 duty as Ronald's valet when he was at home. 
 
 Ronald sat up in bed. The man gave him a letter. 
 
 * It is urgent,' he said, ' or I would not have dis- 
 turbed his Excellency.' 
 
 His Excellency rubbed his eyes, and the occurrences 
 of the previous night came back to him. He seized 
 the letter impatiently. It was from Count Stornello. 
 
 *Take breakfast quietly at home,' said his friend, 
 * as if nothing had happened. Come round to my 
 lodgings at about eleven o'clock. We shall be undis- 
 turbed there, and I will tell you what we have settled. 
 It is to be this evening if possible.' 
 
 It was now half-past nine, so there was no time to 
 w^aste. Ronald rose hastily and inquired whether 
 anybody was yet stirring. He was told that Mr.
 
 THE CASINO NOBILE. 125 
 
 Lascelles had rung his bell, and that the Consul would 
 probably soon be in the dining-room. Here, indeed, 
 Ronald found him, sipping his coffee and reading 
 the newspaper — or, rather, the tiny Italian rag which 
 did duty for a newspaper. 
 
 ' Good morning, Ronald,' said he ; ' I hardly ex- 
 pected you to be down so early, after dancing all 
 night.' 
 
 ' I was not so very late, father,' replied the young 
 man. ' I came in very soon after you.' 
 
 ' I know, I know,' answered Mr. Lascelles. ' But 
 you see I was playing whist quietly all the evening, 
 and you were dancing about the room with hardly a 
 pause. You seem to have enjoyed yourself very 
 much.' 
 
 ' I danced a great deal, and the supper was ex- 
 cellent,' said Ronald. 
 
 ' I should think so ! The Donatis do everything 
 very well. You don't seem to care about your break-
 
 126 NO APPETITE, 
 
 fast, Ronald. Why, at your age I could dance all 
 night and eat a beefsteak in the morning,' said the 
 Consul, laying down his paper to look at his 
 son. 
 
 His father's absolute ignorance of the events of the 
 evening was reassuring to Ronald, who was nervously 
 impatient to get away, for fear of betraying his exces- 
 sive preoccupation. Mrs. Lascelles, who joined them 
 soon afterwards, was clearly also without any sus- 
 picion of the fracas. 
 
 When Ronald rose to leave the room she kissed 
 him with more than her usual tenderness, as if to 
 shoAv that she was pleased with his conduct. But she 
 only asked : 
 
 ' Shall you dine at home to-night, Ronald?' 
 
 To-night ! Where would he be to-night at dinner- 
 time ? Would he he at all ? Would there not, before 
 then, be an end to his doubts and hesitations, to his 
 hopes and fears ?
 
 THE CASINO NO BILE. 127 
 
 * I think so, mother,' he rephed, ' if it is seven 
 o'clock as usual' 
 
 Then he went to Stornello's lodgings, modest, like 
 those of most young Italians, who have very little idea of 
 making themselves comfortable in luxurious chambers. 
 Here he found his friend, and Colonel Martini, an 
 elderly man, who had earned distinction and a severe 
 wound in the late war, and had only just been in- 
 Talided on a full pension. 
 
 ' My dear Rinaldo,' said Stornello, ' you know 
 Colonel Martini, of course ? I felt that I had not 
 sufficient experience in an affair of this seriousness. I 
 have had a couple of little discussions myself, but 
 they were not very important. So I asked the Colonel 
 to help us.' 
 
 * But,' answered Ronald, who had often met Colonel 
 Martini at the Consulate, ' my father ' 
 
 ' Mr. Lascelles,' interrupted Martini, who was very 
 fond of addressing Englishmen by English titles, and
 
 128 THE OTHER SECOND. 
 
 invariably directed his notes to Ronald's father, ' Mr. 
 the English Consul Lascelles, Esquire,' ' I am an old 
 friend of your respected father. He is an honourable 
 gentleman of good blood, and has the heart of a soldier, 
 and has served his country and risked his life for her 
 more than once, though only a civil servant. I am 
 sure the British Consul would approve of the course I 
 am helping his son to take.' 
 
 And he held out his hand and pressed Ronald's 
 warmly. 
 
 * But you will not tell him V cried Ronald. 
 
 *No, my dear young friend. I will not tell him 
 until all is happily over. For what should I make a 
 loving father anxious ? A duel cannot be avoided 
 without disgrace. I am no advocate for duels, when 
 the cause is trivial; but in this matter the insult was 
 so gross and so public that I do not see how we can 
 arrange matters without, at least, a wound, and we 
 have acted accordingly.'
 
 THE CASINO NO BILE. 129 
 
 ' I am glad to hear it,' replied Ronald. ' I would in 
 any case have refused to arrange matters.' 
 
 * Young blood will be impetuous,' the Colonel went 
 on. * I am glad to see you have a spirit, as indeed 
 your father's son could not fail to have. But it was 
 my duty to arrange things amicably if I could. There- 
 fore, when the good Count here called on me this 
 morning very early, we went to Signor Guarini's house 
 and demanded that the Marquis should make a 
 public apology at the Casino.' 
 
 ' Of course he refused/ interposed Count Stornello. 
 
 ' Naturally !'. observed the Colonel. ' I quite under- 
 stand. The quarrel at the Club is not the real cause 
 of the dispute. But you may trust me, young 
 men,' and the old officer winked significantly. *A 
 lady's name must never be mentioned among noble- 
 men.' 
 
 ' So we are now waiting for the Marchese's seconds/ 
 said Stornello. * We have agreed that you are to fi^dit 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 I30 SWORDS OR PISTOLS. 
 
 at six to-niglit. We do not dare to postpone the affair 
 till to-morrow, because such a lot of fellows at the 
 Club know of it, and the police would be sure to hear. 
 The sooner it is settled the better. Now what arms 
 would you prefer, Rinaldo mio ? You are good at 
 the salle cVarmes, I know.' 
 
 ' I should prefer swords,' answered Ronald, ' as I 
 must not use my fists.' 
 
 ' The Marchese della Rocca,' interposed the Colonel, 
 * is, I understand, a first-rate swordsman. He is also 
 a good shot. Can you use the pistol, Mr. Lascelles ?' 
 
 ' I have practised a little, but I am not really good,' 
 said Ronald. 
 
 * Then we must endeavour to obtain swords,' re- 
 plied the soldier. ' This is, of course, your first 
 affair ?' 
 
 * Yes.' 
 
 * Then, above all, you must not be nervous. The 
 bravest man is nervous at his first duel till his blood
 
 THE CASINO NO BILE. 131 
 
 gets warm. I was much frightened myself, and would 
 have wished to run away. Now, what can we do to 
 divert our young friend ?' asked the Colonel, turning 
 to Stornello. 
 
 ' He must certainly not be alone. Could you get 
 one of your comrades to accompany you to the shoot- 
 ing-gallery, just to practise a little, you know, without 
 tiring yourself ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes !' replied Ronald. ' But I should prefer to 
 go for a sail in the Santa Lucia. There is a nice 
 breeze to-day, and no sea to speak of,' he added, as he 
 looked across the room out of the window and noted 
 the bright waters of the bay sparkling in the sun- 
 light. 
 
 * My dear young friend !' exclaimed the Colonel in 
 surprise, 'you might be sea-sick, and the motion 
 of the boat would affect your steadiness. Not for 
 worlds r 
 
 Ronald laughed. ' I suggested it because I think 
 
 9—2
 
 :32 LET HIM GO'J 
 
 that the breeze would do me good, and blow away the 
 cobwebs. I was up late last night, you know.' 
 
 ' Better let him go !' said Stornello. ' And it will 
 disarm suspicion.' 
 
 ' Well, then, be off,' observed the Colonel, shrugging 
 his shoulders. ' I shall never understand you Enghsh- 
 raen. But mind you are back by four o'clock at 
 latest' 
 
 ' And,' added Stornello, ' you may as well have a 
 suit of dark clothes sent here. Then you need not 
 go home to dress.' 
 
 ' All right,' exclaimed Ronald, quite pleased. ' Of 
 course you will look after everything !' 
 
 * Of course,' answered the Colonel. ' Leave yourself 
 in my hands. You could not easily find anyone,' he 
 added, grasping Ronald's hand, 'who is more anxious 
 for the honour and the safety of his old friend's son.'
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 ' SANTA LUCIA.' 
 
 Away sped Ronald to the quay, where he soon 
 found Gasparo, the man in charge of the Httle yacht 
 Santa Lucia, owned by the Consul, and which was 
 now mostly used by his son whenever the young man 
 was at Portino. Gasparo was ordered to uncover the 
 sails and prepare to get under way ; Ronald would 
 come oft' in a shore-boat. He dashed into his own 
 room to change his clothes, and in passing his sister's 
 put his head in. 
 
 ' Will you come for a sail, Teresina ? Start in five 
 minutes.' 
 
 And then he hustled Giuseppe off to get young
 
 134 UNDER WAY. 
 
 Donati to join them; For not only did lie want to 
 'divert himself,' as the Colonel expressed it, but he 
 was particularly anxious that all Portino should know 
 of his trip, so that none should suspect what drama 
 or tragedy was to follow it. By the time the brother 
 and sister were ready, Giuseppe returned breathless to 
 announce that the Cavaliere would meet them at the 
 quay. Then they thought of provisions, and Mrs. 
 Lascelles soon packed a little hamper with a couple 
 of rolls, a bottle of Barolo vecchio, and some cold 
 meat. No one would have suspected that the merriest 
 of the jolly trio who pushed off' to the Santa Lucia 
 in a gaily painted wherry was, a few hours later, to 
 fight a duel to the death with a practised adversary. 
 
 It was a pleasant day. The wind was still off the 
 land, but its violence had quite abated. The sun was 
 bright, and the sky cloudless. The Santa Lucia heeled 
 over to the gentle breeze, and cleaved the waters of 
 the Mediterranean with no more than a graceful bow
 
 SANTA LUCIA? 135 
 
 to tho little waves which lapped against her smooth 
 sides. They sailed round the great Russian ironclad 
 which was moored in the bay, and then crossed to 
 Punto Sereno, where some of the wealthy Portinese 
 spent the summer season. Here all the villas were 
 shut up, and the bathing establishment was deserted. 
 But they picked up a buoy in the tiny harbour, and 
 ate their lunch on the deck of the Santa Lucia, watch- 
 ing the sea-gulls gather round the little bits of meat 
 they threw overboard, and chatter and quarrel over 
 them, till a big cormorant would sail in amongst them, 
 and scattering the noisy crew, secure the morsel for 
 himself. They bought some tiny oysters from a fisher- 
 man, and broke nails and knives in trying to open them. 
 Then Teresina sang the sweet Neapolitan sailor-song : 
 
 ' Suir mare lucica 
 L' astro a' argento ; . . .' 
 
 and Gaspare, who was usually very shy about his 
 vocal powers, at last consented to begin : ' Caroli-
 
 136 INTERRUPTING A SONG. 
 
 netta/ accompanied of course witli the charac- 
 teristic gestures and mobile changes of expression 
 • Avhich none but ItaKans can imitate, when, for the third 
 time, he trolled out : 
 
 ' Com' e bella, quello riso ! 
 Com' e dolce, quello viso ! 
 Tutti cred' in paradiso 
 Quando sto vicin' a te,' 
 
 with his great horny hand first on his mouth, then 
 on his eyes, and lastly on tlie place where his heart 
 was supposed to be. Ronald suddenly said : 
 
 * Thanks, Gasparo ! But we must get home ; it is 
 three o'clock. Let go the buoy and haul up the peak. 
 I will sail her back.' 
 
 * Why start so early, Ronald V asked Teresina plain- 
 tively. ' AVe have lots of time before dinner, and it is 
 so awfully jolly.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry, dear,' answered he. ' But I have 
 a most important business engagement at four, and 
 we have barely time to get across.'
 
 SANTA LUCIA: 137 
 
 Teresina pouted up her little mouth, and Bonati 
 looked quite heart-broken. But Ronald was firm, and 
 soon the Santa Lucia, with the wind just abaft the 
 beam and every sail drawing, was flying across the 
 bay towards the lighthouse on the Portino mole. 
 
 What a peaceful, pleasant scene, yet how instinct 
 with life ! Would Ronald ever again be standing on 
 the narrow white deck of the tiny Santa Lucia ^ 
 steadying the tiller, and letting the heavenly breeze 
 cool his forehead ? Was this the last time he would 
 see his pretty sister sitting against the lee buhvark — 
 her lithe figure clad in soft blue serge, her brown 
 hair straying from under the glazed sailor hat, while 
 her bright eyes glanced mischievously at Gasparo, 
 who, leaning against the mast, was finishing, with the 
 help of a clasp-knife, the remains of the Padroni's 
 luncheon? Would he never again behold Portino, 
 with its white houses and green shutters, stretched 
 along the blue bay, the sunny hills behind dotted
 
 138 YOU WILL COME TO DINNER? 
 
 with villas, and the bright green of the orange-trees 
 
 and the dull grey of the olives ? Should he never 
 
 more hear the chorus of the red-capped fishermen 
 
 as they hauled in their long drift-nets half a mile off 
 
 the mole : 
 
 'Santa Luci— a 
 Santa — Lucia ' % 
 
 "if^ >f. yf. y^ 
 
 The dinghy's keel grated on the stones. Donati 
 jumped out to help Teresina, who, disdaining assist- 
 ance, skipped up the steps like a deer. 
 
 ' Will you take Teresina home V said Eonald to the 
 young Italian ; ' I must look after my busines'5. I 
 am late as it is/ he added, glancing at his watch, 
 which showed five minutes past the hour. 
 
 Donati was delighted. 
 
 ' You will be sure to come to dinner, Ronald,' called 
 Teresina to him, as he hurried across the wide quay 
 towards Stornello's rooms. ' Thank you so much ! 
 Such a jolly sail !'
 
 SANTA LUC I a: i39 
 
 As Ronald climbed up the steep stairs of the Casa 
 Luigi, where his friend lived, he suddenly stopped. 
 What a curious circumstance ! He had spent the 
 whole day without a thought of Edith ! He had 
 enjoyed the sail, though he knew what must follow. He 
 had gently, if sadly, contemplated the possibility of 
 never seeing his good father, his adored mother, or 
 his dear little sister again. He had taken a good look 
 at the beautiful bay, as if it were indeed to be the last 
 look. He had listened to Gaspare's song, and to the 
 fishermen's chorus, as if he would never hear them 
 again. He had watched the sea-birds, and thought 
 that the rustle of their wings and their hoarse shouts 
 were like the cries and sighs of the shadows in that 
 abode where the souls of good heretics and unbaptized 
 children dwell. 
 
 Dante had come back to him as if he had but just 
 risen from reading the sonorous stanzas. But he had 
 not thought of the terrifying possibility of horrors ;
 
 I40 SHADOWS. 
 
 only of the curious mystery of the endless future 
 which he might know in a few hours. 
 
 But in all these wanderino^s not once had his mind 
 strayed to Edith Woodall. Yet it might almost be 
 said that he was about to risk his life for her. 
 
 Was that, then, love ?
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO. 
 
 They were waiting for him impatiently. 
 
 'These Englishmen take things very coolly,' said 
 the Colonel, pulling out his watch. 
 
 ' All the better,' replied Stornello. ' Less likely to 
 be nervous.' 
 
 ' Yes, but che curiosa gente ! Now if one of us 
 ethers had to fight a duel, we should first go and 
 practise for a couple of hours at the shooting-gallery, 
 and then have a jovial dejeilner with a large party of 
 friends at some good restaurant. It keeps the spirits 
 up, and prevents a fellow feeling dull.' 
 
 * That- is what / did,' assented the Count.
 
 142 CURIOUS PEOPLE. 
 
 * So did I when I still fought duels,' continued the 
 Colonel. ' But this young Englishman goes off on his 
 boat, on the rough stormy sea, and perhaps he is 
 sea-sick; surely he has had nothing to eat, no com- 
 pany, no liveliness, no preparation ! Curiosa garde !' 
 I only hope he has not been upset, or drowned 
 perhaps. They would say he was afraid !' 
 
 Ronald was announced just as even Stornello was 
 beginning to be seriously anxious. He apologized for 
 being late ; he had forgotten the time in the pleasure 
 of the sail. Martini shruorofed his shoulders, and 
 Stornello showed him into his room to chan2:e his 
 clothes. 
 
 The seconds superintended his toilette, which is a 
 matter of serious importance on such an occasion. 
 They told him that unfortunately, in the opinion of 
 those best qualified to form one, the choice of weapons 
 rested with Delia Rocca ; and he had of course selected 
 pistols. Therefore the adversaries were to dress in.
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO. 143 
 
 dark clothes, with a frock-coat closely buttoned up. 
 They were to meet at San Cristoforo, about five miles 
 out of Portino, and the matter was to be settled in a 
 little wood behind that village. A carriage had been 
 ordered for five o'clock. 
 
 It appeared punctually to the minute. During the 
 drive Ronald's friends attempted to cheer him. But 
 as a matter of fact he did not feel particularly de- 
 pressed. Somehow he had made up his mind that he 
 would be shot through the heart, and his thoughts 
 
 Avere busier with what would come afterwards than 
 
 • 
 
 with the duel itself. It would be a pity to leave the 
 world so soon, and every now and then a momentary 
 sadness would come over him. It Avas a bright, beauti- 
 ful world, and he had as yet seen so little of it ! There 
 was so much joy, so much brightness and light, for 
 those who sought for them, and did not make them- 
 selves miserable by imaginary woes. A sigh escaped 
 his lips as he remembered a sunny afternoon at Lord's,
 
 144 KEEP UP YOUR COURAGE, 
 
 and a strangely beautiful face under a quaint parasol. 
 But then again a smile stole over his face as he thought 
 of some pleasant dinner in London or an amusing 
 adventure at Portino ; and he was not in the least 
 frightened. When the Colonel whispered, 
 
 ' Keep up your courage, my friend ; keep steady, or 
 you will miss him altogether,' he stretched out his arm. 
 
 ' Feel my hand. Look at it,' he said. ' Does it 
 tremble V and the old soldier was surprised at his 
 placidity. It was the calmness of excessive nervous 
 •strain ; not that of practised valour. The doubts of 
 the previous days, the fatigue of the ball, the quarrel, 
 and the excitement of the morning, had worn out his 
 nerves, which were simply quiescent for the time. The 
 carriage drew up at a bridge outside the tiny hamlet 
 of San Cristoforo, and Colonel Martini led the way up 
 a path along the little brook which there crossed the 
 road. Stornello followed, carrying a suspicious-looking 
 €ase covered by a cloak. Ronald knew the place well.
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO, 145 
 
 In May, when the Spanish chestnuts were in bloom, 
 and in June, it was a favourite spot for picnics and 
 excursions. 
 
 At this time of the year the trees were bare of 
 leaves, and only here and there a timid violet peeped 
 out of the grass. For about a quarter of a mile they 
 followed the water ; then they turned to the left up a 
 steep path, through, an undergrowth of chestnuts 
 which, were cultivated for vine-sticks. The long 
 stems grew so close together that, though the leaves 
 were scarcely budding, the thicket was impenetrable 
 to the eye beyond a few yards. After a short ascent, 
 during which the Colonel repeatedly said : * Gently, 
 signori, gently ! our friend must not be out of breath,' 
 they reached an open glade where the ground was 
 almost level. At one end of it was a huge chestnut- 
 tree, whose majestic branches extended far across 
 the young grass. At the other extremity was a quiet 
 pool, whence flowed a tiny rivulet. The glade was 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 WAIT HERE. 
 
 closely surrounded by underwood, and the setting sun 
 was shut out from it by the dense vegetation. Under 
 the tree were three gentlemen, one of whom Ronald 
 at once recognised as Delia Rocca. By the pool were 
 two more, one of them carrying another suspicious- 
 looking case. 
 
 * Wait here,' whispered the Colonel to Ronald, and 
 stepped forward with Stornello. All the men bowed 
 to each other most ceremoniously, and Delia Rocca's 
 seconds, with Ronald's friends, stepped into the 
 middle of the glade to consult. Two pistol-cases were 
 produced, and the weapons compared. Then Colonel 
 Martini came back to his principal, who was watching 
 the proceedings intently, leaning on his thick orange 
 stick. 
 
 ' We have arranged to place you with your backs to 
 each other at thirty paces,' said he. ' When you hear 
 the word Avanii, you will turn round and, if you 
 please, advance on your adversary ten paces, but not
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO. 147 
 
 nearer. Or you may fire at once if you prefer it. He 
 will also fire when he pleases. Some people rush for- 
 ward and fire instantly ; I do not advise this. Let 
 me see you hold out your hand at full length.' 
 
 Konald did so. 
 
 'It is well/ said the Colonel; 'you are a hravo giovine. 
 It trembles not. Now recollect. When you turn 
 round, do so quickly, covering your right side with 
 the pistol arm, and keeping your body sideways to- 
 w^ards the enemy. Do not forget this; it is more 
 important than all other matters. Keep your eye 
 and the barrel of your pistol fixed on him ; and lire 
 when you please. If you choose to advance, do so 
 step by step carefully ; place the right foot first, and 
 bring the left slowly after it. Never lose your balance, 
 nor,' added he, smiling, * your head.' 
 
 *What do you advise about firing? Shall I step 
 forward first, or stand where I am ?' 
 
 * Well, my dear young friend, it is a fearful re- 
 
 10—2
 
 148 ARE YOU READY? 
 
 sponsibility to advise you in such a matter. For the 
 Marchese is said to be a good shot, and if you wait for 
 his fire, you might be incapable of returning it. With 
 an ordinary marksman, I should certainly say, wait. 
 For if you stand still he cannot get nearer than twenty 
 paces, which is a long distance to hit ; and then, when 
 he has discharged his pistol, you can measure your 
 ten paces forward in cool blood. But with Delia 
 Kocca I would not advise — I cannot — I dare not !' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Ronald ; ' I understand perfectly. 
 Who are the other two gentlemen ?' 
 
 * Doctors, caro mio — -just as a matter of precaution. 
 Not that they will be wanted, of course.' 
 
 Stomello now stepped up. 
 
 ' Are you ready, Rinaldo ?' he asked. 
 
 * Quite,' answered "Ronald. 
 
 * Wait a minute !' cried the Colonel. ' Let us look 
 at your dress. That coat must be buttoned up to the 
 neck, and the shirt collar turned down. No Avhite
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO. 149 
 
 must be visible. That is rigbt. Now, my friend, good 
 courage, and God be with you 1' 
 
 Stornello grasped his hand silently, and the two led 
 him forward. There was not much to choose in the 
 stations. A single ray of the horizontal sun pierced 
 the thicket, and sent a broad band of yellow light 
 across the grass about ten paces in front of the pool ; 
 otherwise the whole glade was in soft grey shadow. 
 Stornello and Guarini drew lots for places. Guarini 
 won, and elected to place his man near the chestnut- 
 tree, which had the advantage of being a little higher 
 than the other end. The distance was carefully mea- 
 sured by Martini and Delia Rocca's other second; 
 then the doctors retired to the edge of the brushwood, 
 and the two adversaries were walked off with their 
 backs to each other. The Colonel placed the pistol 
 in Ronald's hand, and gave it a final clasp as he 
 did so. 
 
 ' Corragio,' he whispered. Then he went quickly to
 
 150 AVANTI, SFGNORlf 
 
 the centre, for, as the oldest man present, he had been 
 asked to give the signal. 
 
 ' Are you ready, gentlemen ?' he asked loudly. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Ronald in English. 
 
 ' Pronto,' came from under the old chestnut. 
 
 Then, ' Avanti, signori !' 
 
 Ronald turned quickly, following instructions, and 
 protecting his body with his arm, he aimed his pistol 
 straight at Delia Rocca. The latter moved swiftly 
 forward. He took the ten paces in barely five seconds, 
 but in that short time all Ronald's previous life seemed 
 to come before him. 
 
 ' God bless and preserve my mother and father !' he 
 whispered, and then came a violent sharp pain in his 
 right leg, as if a huge knife had been plunged into 
 him. He scarcely heard the report which followed. 
 He sank down on his knee, and saw that the doctors 
 were rushing forward. But in a second he had regained 
 his presence of mind. He waved them back with his
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO. 151 
 
 left hand, and, by a tremendous effort of will, rose to 
 his feet. 
 
 ' A moment, signori !' he cried ; ' it is merely a 
 scratch.' 
 
 Then he slowly advanced the wounded leg, and 
 again raised the barrel of his pistol. He watched 
 Delia Rocca. The young man was pale as death, 
 almost livid. Even Ronald could see him tremble. 
 He still stood guarding his body with his right arm, 
 but his now useless pistol had fallen on the grass 
 beside him. Four more paces, and Ronald reached 
 the ray of sunlight. It lit up his brown hair, and 
 cast a halo over his pale face. It glanced on the 
 barrel of the pistol, and was reflected in his sparkling 
 eyes. It showed a small, red stream trickling slowly 
 down from his side on to the green grass. Then he 
 stepped again into the shadow, his lips firmly set, his 
 teeth clenched, and a look of sternness on his coun- 
 tenance which none had seen before. He carefully
 
 132 IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS HIM. 
 
 counted the ten paces, and then stopped, while the 
 seconds were motionless with anxiety and horror. 
 Very steadily and very slowly he raised his pistol till 
 it covered his adversary between the eyes. 
 
 Delia Rocca was shaking like an aspen; but the 
 pistol followed his movements, and the gallant Don 
 Juan of the previous evening, resplendent in huge 
 collars, satin facings, and orders, now looked a ver}^ 
 different object. His partners would not have re- 
 cognised their handsome admirer in that shrunken 
 trembling figure. The Marchese's eyes were fixed 
 with a stony glare on the barrel, so near him now, 
 and so fatally steady. The Italian fancied that he 
 could almost look down it. 
 
 ' Now it is quite impossible to miss him !' thought 
 Ronald. * In another second the scoundrel's brains 
 
 will be blown out.' 
 
 * * ^^ * * 
 
 ' Bah r he suddenly said. ' Why should I kill 
 him V
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO. 153 
 
 And he fired the pistol into the air, and sank down 
 on the grass exhausted. Delia Rocca's face changed 
 as if by magic. In a moment he was himself again, 
 receiving the congratulations of his seconds. The 
 doctors meanwhile were busy with Ronald, and their 
 verdict was awaited by Stornello and Martini with 
 terrible anxiety. The old Colonel's cheeks were wet 
 with tears, while Stornello grasped Ronald's hand and 
 bid him be of good cheer. The surgeons cut off a 
 portion of his clothes, and examined the wound. It 
 was a fearfully painful moment, and Ronald nearly 
 fainted. Restoratives were administered, and after 
 five dreadful minutes the elder of the medical men 
 spoke. 
 
 ' The bullet has entered the fleshy part of the thigh, 
 and of course the sinews are all lacerated and several 
 small veins are cut. But I do not apprehend any 
 danger. It will be a long and painful time for the 
 signer, but with care he will be quite restored. We
 
 154 MR. LASCELLES IS SATISFIED. 
 
 cannot well extract the bullet here. The operation 
 must be performed at the signore's home at Portino. 
 Meanwhile we have stopped the bleeding.' 
 
 Soon the bandages were complete, and the assistant 
 went to arrange one of the carriages for the sufferer. 
 Meanwhile some consultation had taken place between 
 Delia Rocca and his seconds. Martini had anxiously 
 waited for the surgeon's verdict, and then reported it 
 to the Marchese, who had returned to the chestnut- 
 tree. After some conversation the two stepped for- 
 ward, their principal following a few steps behind. 
 
 ' Signori, we wish to declare, on behalf of the Mar- 
 chese della Rocca, that Mr. Lascelles has borne him- 
 self like a true galantuomo, and such is emphatically 
 our opinion. The Marchese will be glad to hear that 
 Mr. Lascelles is satisfied.' 
 
 ' Ask the Marchese to come nearer,' whispered 
 Ronald from his recumbent position on the grass. 
 
 Delia Rocca came up to him.
 
 SAN CRISTOFORO. i5S 
 
 ' Marchese/ said Ronald, in a clear voice, ' you 
 have had a narrow escape to-day. Take care not to 
 pollute the ears of honest English girls again. They 
 generally have brothers or friends to protect tliem^ 
 and give people like you a bastonata. Addio.' 
 
 Then he turned his face away and fainted. But the 
 Marchese had gone quickly, and knew it not. Before 
 the enemy Ronald had borne himself bravely.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHAT THE STENTS SAID. 
 
 * My dear Clara,' said George Stent to his wife one 
 evening when he returned from the City, 'do you 
 think you are strong enough to hear some very strange 
 news V 
 
 ' Of course I am, George !' rephed his wife, who was 
 lying comfortably on the sofa in what had formerly 
 been Ronald's study. ' What is it ?' 
 
 ' I have received a letter from your father — a very 
 remarkable letter V 
 
 ' Is anybody ill ? Oh tell me at once, George, and 
 don't keep me in suspense with all this preface and 
 preparation !' exclaimed Clara, the Lascelles' blood 
 asserting itself as she sat up.
 
 WHAT THE S TEXTS SAID. 157 
 
 * No one is ill — that is, your brother Ronald is not 
 quite well. But there is nothing to be alarmed at 
 Do not excite yourself, Clara. Think how bad it is for 
 you in your present condition.' 
 
 ' I shall be very bad if you don't tell me, George, 
 instead of making all this fuss. What is the matter T 
 
 ' Clara, if you are not quiet, I shall not be able to 
 tell you at all. Nothing is the matter — that is, 
 nothing that need frighten you. It is of course an- 
 noying, very annoying. But you are scarcely in a tit 
 condition to hear it.' 
 
 His wife jumped up from the sofa. 
 
 ' Give me the letter and have done with it, or you 
 will drive me out of my senses. I am sure Ronald is 
 very ill, perhaps dead !' 
 
 * No, dear, indeed not,' replied Mr. Stent, not yet 
 forced out of his calmness ; ' but he has behaved verv 
 badly. He has fought a duel' 
 
 Clara had not yet entirely verified Stent senior's
 
 158 FUDGE. 
 
 prophecy. She was still not thoroughly imbued with 
 the views and opinions of the clan. She asked 
 anxiously : 
 
 * Was he hurt — seriously hurt ? I hope he killed 
 the other man.' 
 
 * My dear, you should really think of what you are 
 going to say ! I am thankful to be able to inform you 
 that the " other man," as you term him, was unhurt, 
 and that your brother has a slight flesh wound which 
 will confine him to the sofa for a few weeks, but is of 
 no serious importance.' 
 
 * Is that really all ?' asked Clara. * Show me papa's 
 letter.' 
 
 ' Here it is,' replied her husband, handing it to her. 
 * You see your father very judiciously wrote to me at 
 the office, for fear of startling 3^ou in your present con- 
 dition.' 
 
 ' Fudge !' was Clara's brief retort, as she eagerly 
 scanned the letter.
 
 WHAT THE STENTS SAID. 159 
 
 It was not a long one, and stated far less than the 
 reader already knows. Ronald, said Mr. Lascelles, 
 was reported to have quarrelled with an Italian noble- 
 man in the card-room at the Club, and by the custom 
 of the country, the matter had to be settled by a duel. 
 Eonald had been wounded, but was progressing favour- 
 iibly. His mother and sister were nursing him, and 
 there was no cause for alarm. With fatherly pride, 
 Mr. Lascelles added that his son was much praised for 
 his generosity in firing into the air when his adversary 
 was disarmed. Then followed a few details of the 
 wound, and the treatment. The Consul wound up by 
 expressing some anxiety lest Ronald should fail 
 to obtain an extension of his leave of absence, and 
 begged Mr. Stent to see the chief of his office on his 
 behalf, and to place the case before him, without 
 of course mentioning the cause of Ronald's illness, 
 and he enclosed a letter to the chief from him- 
 self.
 
 i6o ] THE Y ARE QUITE JUSTIFIABLE. 
 
 Poor Mr. Lascelles could not have applied to a less 
 sympathetic ambassador. 
 
 ' What folly I' exclaimed Mr. George Stent. ' Really, 
 Clara, I am surprised at your father. I should have 
 thought that at his age he would know better !' 
 
 ' What has poor papa done V asked Clara. 
 
 ' Done ? Why he actually seems to encourage 
 Ronald in his dissipated and violent conduct. A 
 quarrel over cards at some club, in the middle of the 
 night. A nice thing, truly, for an English gentleman 
 to be involved in. And he wants me to speak for 
 him — to take him under my protection, in fact. I am 
 to go to Somerset House and intercede for a gambler 
 and a bravo !' 
 
 ' George, how can you use such dreadful words 
 about poor Ronald !' 
 
 ' My dear Clara, they are quite justifiable,' answered 
 Mr. Stent, angrier than he had ever been in his life 
 before, and the more disturbed that he was asked to
 
 WHAT THE STENTS SAID. i6i' 
 
 interfere on behalf of his disreputable brother-in- 
 law. 
 
 Then he took up the Consul's letter again, and 
 looked through it carefully. 
 
 ' As your father says, " Ronald is reported to have 
 quarrelled with an Italian nobleman in the card- 
 room," very likely they quarrelled about something 
 besides cards,' remarked Mr. Stent with great acute- 
 ness. ' People don't go and shoot each other on 
 account of a dispute over cards, even in Italy. / 
 never had a quarrel while I was there, though they 
 took me into all their clubs.' 
 
 * I dare say not,' replied Clara. ' But then you are 
 older than Ronald, and no doubt wiser.' 
 
 ' I should hope so,' assented her husband. ' I 
 never was such a fool as Ronald, thank God, and none 
 of us were ever silly enough to risk our lives for some 
 trumpery rubbish. Clara dear,' he added, after a 
 pause, 'do you feel well enough to drive round to 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 i62 GO BY YOURSELF. 
 
 John's after dinner? I should Hke to consult him 
 about this matter.' 
 
 Clara was not in the humour to fall in with Stent 
 ways this evening. 
 
 * No,' she replied decisively ; ' I don't. Go there by 
 yourself.' 
 
 * My darling,' replied George, ' I could not think 
 of leaving you alone in your present delicate condition. 
 I will send round to see if they can come here.' 
 
 And he rang the bell. 
 
 Now Clara knew what ' they ' signified. It meant 
 John Stent and his wife, and William Stent and his 
 wife, and perhaps Stent senior. Though she had got 
 used to these people, and had almost become one of 
 them, she did not care to hear her brother's 
 conduct discussed in solemn conclave. Wherefore 
 she said : 
 
 * Very well, George. But don't expect me to come 
 down. I am too tired.'
 
 I J V/A T THE S TENTS SA ID. 1 63 
 
 * Eliza shall keep you company, my child/ replied 
 Oeorge. ' You are quite right not to exert yourself.* 
 Then he despatched messages and notes to rouse his 
 clansmen. 
 
 Clara did not seem particularly pleased at the pro- 
 spect of Eliza's company. This lady, an unmarried 
 sister of George's, Y/as, like all the other m embers of 
 her family, very good, very pious, and very regular 
 in her habits. But she was not exactly lively. It was, 
 however, very difficult for Clara to tell her husband 
 that his sister sometimes bored her. Mr. Stent would 
 not have shown anger — he very seldom did — but he 
 would have been very deeply grieved, and Clara knew 
 that if she once uttered such an heresy she would 
 never hear the last of it in the shape of hints from 
 George, and gentle complaints that his Avife could not 
 hit it off with his own people, quiet moans over the 
 loss of his sister's companionship, and sincere hopes 
 that poor Eliza's feelings w^ere not much hurt. She 
 
 11—2
 
 l64 CLARA IS ALL RIGHT. 
 
 was afraid of the consequences of speaking, and there- 
 iore held her peace. 
 
 The moment the dessert was on the table she retired 
 to her boudoir, and in a very few minutes the clansmen 
 began to arrive. With his invariable courtesy, George 
 went out into the passage to meet his relations, as the 
 successive carriages stopped at the door. The greet- 
 ing was invariably the same : 
 
 ' What is wrong, George ? Surely not Clara ' 
 
 For the impression had gone abroad that possibly the 
 expected baby might have come too soon. 
 
 George always answered sadly, with a significant 
 pressure of the hand : 
 
 ' No, Clara is all right ; but she wants to be quiet 
 to-night. Come into the dining-room, and you shall 
 hear all about it. Perhaps Jane will be kind enough 
 to sit in the drawing-room for the present ?' 
 
 Soon John, Wilham, Mr. Stent senior, and Mr. 
 William C. Stent were assembled round the dining-
 
 WHAT THE STENTS SAID. 165 
 
 table, while Jane, Mary, and Susan wondered together, 
 in the first-floor, what it was all about, and * hoped 
 the gentlemen ' would soon come up and tell 
 them. 
 
 Downstairs George solemnly pulled out Mr. Las- 
 celles' letter, and handed it first to his father. From 
 Stent senior it passed on to John Stent ; then William 
 Stent read it in silence ; and finally it reached William 
 C. Stent. !Mean while George quietly passed the claret 
 and courteously pressed each member of his family to 
 take a glass. 
 
 ' Now you have all read this extraordinary letter/ 
 said he solemnly, when William C. Stent had folded it 
 up and returned it, 'what course should I pursue 
 under the circumstances ? I have asked you here to 
 take your advice on the subject, and shall, as a matter 
 of course, follow that advice.' 
 
 ' I perceive, George,' said Mr. Stent senior, * that 
 Mr. Lascelles (who, by-the-by, appears to me to be a
 
 i66 ALTOGETHER UNSTEADY. 
 
 rather weak father) does not seem very sure of the 
 cause of this unfortunate quarrel.' 
 
 'I noticed that/ came from his sons and his 
 nephew. 
 
 ' Yon all know young Ronald Lascelles/ said George ; 
 * he is a wild young fool, capable of any sort of extra- 
 vagance.' 
 
 ' A pleasant sort of young man, too/ William C. 
 ventured to observe. 
 
 ' Very pleasant ! oh yes ; no one denies that !* 
 chimed in the eldest. 
 
 * But rather unreliable, eh ?' suggested John. 
 ' Entirely,' assented George. 
 
 * Altogether unsteady ?' asked the father. 
 
 * I should think so,' again said George. 
 
 * Quite irregular in his habits ?' inquired William. 
 
 * Oh, dreadfully !' assented Ronald's brother-in-law. 
 * He was here for more than a year, and I know all 
 about him/
 
 WHAT THE STENTS SAID, 167 
 
 ' It was very good of you to have him/ observed 
 Mr. Stent senior. 
 
 ' Very,' chorused the others. 
 
 ' Then he is not hkely to get on V asked 
 Wilham C. 
 
 No answer was vouchsafed to so idle a question. A 
 smile of contempt only played on the lips of the clans- 
 men. 
 
 ' Does he pay his bills V asked Stent father. 
 
 * No — at least, not all of them. Some come for him 
 here now/ replied George. 
 
 ' I feared as much/ muttered the old gentleman; with 
 a groan. ' He is a bad lot.' 
 
 There was a responsive sigh from the whole com- 
 pany. 
 
 George, however, wanted some more positive 
 instructions. 
 
 ' What am I to do V he asked. ' If I refuse, I should 
 quarrel with my father-in-law.'
 
 t6S never (2UARREL. 
 
 'Never laave a quarrel in the family,' observed John 
 sententiously. 
 
 ' Exactly so,' said George ; ' I want to avoid 
 one.' 
 
 Then they consulted and discussed. Could George 
 conscientiously interfere on behalf of a young man so 
 utterly lost to every sense of propriety? John and 
 William held that he could not. Mr. Stent senior and 
 William C. were inclined to think that, notwithstand- 
 ing Ronald's undoubted wickedness, regard for the 
 credit of a connection (' only a connection, mind,' ob- 
 served the old gentleman) was a sufficient reason for 
 assisting him in the way suggested. Perhaps there 
 was in the mind of the younger man some faint recol- 
 lection of youthful escapades which had remained 
 unknown and undiscovered, but of which the con- 
 sciousness inclined him to leniency, while Mr. Stent 
 senior thought of a disreputable old uncle, the only 
 black sheep in the clan for three generations, who was
 
 WHAT THE STENTS SAID. 169 
 
 pensioned off in a distant French, town on condition 
 of never troubling them more. 
 
 Unanimity was always the aim of the Stent family ; 
 w^herefore, after spending an hour over the dining- 
 table without arriving at it, they adjourned to the 
 drawing-room to discuss the matter afresh with the 
 assistance of Mary, Susan, and Jane. Eliza, being un- 
 married, was not summoned to the council, ' for/ 
 whispered George, ' there might be a woman in the 
 case, you know, and girls ought not to know anything 
 about that sort of thing.' 
 
 The fair sex always inclines to gentle measures 
 Avhen the culprit is 3^oung and good-looking. Ronald 
 had been polite and nice even to such tremendous 
 bores as Susan and Mary. Jane was more than he 
 could stand, and she had been mortally offended at 
 his refusing to join the fortnightly family dinner at her 
 house, after having borne it six times. So Jane joined 
 her husband William and her brother-in-law John in
 
 17 o LENIENCY. 
 
 recommending a courteous but decided refusal, which 
 would of course be followed by the formal and official 
 exclusion of Ronald from the Stent family. He 
 should be to them as if he had never existed. Young- 
 men who got into debt and fought duels were not fit 
 company for pious and reputable English house- 
 holds. But Jane and her allies were in the minority. 
 George inclined to the opposition in order not to- 
 grieve his wife, so it was finally decided by five votes, 
 to three that George should write to Mr. Lascelles^ 
 expressing regret at his son's wound, and promising to 
 see the chief of the office at Somerset House imme- 
 diately. 
 
 But it was understood that the ambassador was not 
 justified in telling any falsehoods, and must, therefore^ 
 if pressed to do so, state the cause of Ronald's illness-
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHAT THEY SAID AT PORTING. 
 
 Of course in a place like Portino the duel could not 
 remain long a secret. On the morning after it had 
 taken place the police were instructed to prevent it, 
 and the outskirts were carefully patrolled all da}^ 
 Only in the afternoon did the Prefect hear that it was 
 all over, and that as nobody was killed, and nobody 
 feared another breach of the peace, there was nothing 
 now to do. 
 
 This active and zealous officer, who had been 
 appointed to his post for the same reasons that most 
 other officials in Italy obtain theirs, namely, that he 
 had a ' good friend ' in power somewhere, was much
 
 172 THE WOUXDED MAN. 
 
 «:rieYed at the news havino: reached him so late, and 
 would probably even now have arrested the only man 
 he could get hold of — Delia Kocca having at once left 
 b}' steamer — if he had not discovered that Ronald was 
 imder the roof of the British Consul. So the flag 
 saved the wounded hero from a certain amount of 
 worr}^ 
 
 "When Mrs. Lascelles had overcome the first shock 
 of alarm, she arranged matters as sensibly and as 
 calmly as any woman could. What was to be feared 
 was fever, for the patient was nervous and excitable. 
 They therefore engaged a nurse to assist in watching 
 him at night, while Teresina, Mrs. Lascelles herself, 
 and old Lina would do the rest. 
 
 Quiet was the chief medicine required to restore 
 Ronald to health and strength. The doctors pro- 
 hibited his talking more than was absolutely necessary, 
 and no one was allowed to worry him with questions. 
 Eut Count Stornello and Colonel Martini, who called
 
 WHAT THEY SAID AT PORTING. 173 
 
 daily to inquire, were severely cross-examined by the 
 anxious parents. They had to give a full account of 
 the duel, which of course they did most willingly, not 
 forgetting to dwell on Ronald's pluck in bearing fear- 
 ful pain like a Spartan. But they were also repeatedly 
 pressed as to the cause of the duel. As long as the 
 two were at the Consulate together, they stuck man- 
 fully to the story about a quarrel over cards ; but when 
 the next day Stornello called alone to see his friend, 
 Mrs. Lascelles was waiting for him in the antechamber. 
 She made him come into her drawing-room, and there 
 coaxed, flattered, soothed, and exercised all those wiles 
 which only women can practise, in order to find out 
 the real reason of the duel. 
 
 Rumours of a slight disturbance at the Palazzo 
 Donati had that morning reached her ears ; and she 
 had therefore something to go upon. Poor Stornello 
 grew terribly uncomfortable under her scrutinizing 
 glance, his natural truthfulness having to be set aside
 
 174 HE BETRA YED ALL. 
 
 by his sense of loyalty. Bit by bit she wormed the 
 truth out of him, and he left the Consulate in a very 
 depressed frame of mind, to go and confess to the 
 Colonel that he had betrayed all. 
 
 When Stornello had sadly and humbly taken his 
 leave, Mrs. Lascelles rejoiced greatly. She had known 
 better than her son himself how much he loved that 
 girl ! Could there be a doubt about it now ? Of 
 course not ! Men did not risk their lives for young 
 ladies who were indifferent to them. Out of evil good 
 would come. If, as she fully believed, her son soon 
 regained his health and strength, she would consider 
 this duel the m.ost fortunate event that could have 
 happened. For of course now, not only must Edith 
 be madty in love with him, but Mr. Woodall could not 
 decently refuse to do all in his power for his daughter's 
 brave champion. And a flush of real pride rose to 
 her face as she thought of her son's courage and noble 
 forbearance. In these reflections she was disturbed
 
 IVNA T 1 HE Y SAID AT PO A TINO. 1 7 5 
 
 by Mr. Lascelles, who came up from his office to in- 
 quire how his son was getting on. When she had 
 satisfied him on this score she said : 
 
 ' This is a most fortunate occurrence, Robert, if we 
 look at it in its proper hght !' 
 
 * How so, my dear ? I should have thought it was 
 most itiifortunate ! Ronald's leave expires next week; 
 he was to leave us on Monday. Dr. Salviati says he 
 cannot be moved from his bed for at least a fortnight, 
 and will not be able to travel for weeks. I must say 
 I think it deuced unlucky ! Of course, the boy may 
 not have been able to help it, but he was cer- 
 tainly prejudiced against that Delia Rocca to begin 
 with !' 
 
 *My dear Robert,' answered his wife, when she 
 obtained a chance of putting a word in, ' I am think- 
 ing of much more important matters than Ronald's 
 leave of absence.' 
 
 ' I do not see how anything can be more important
 
 176 BLIND OLD ROBERT. 
 
 jtist now. They gave him three months, which is a 
 very great deal for a junior clerk, and I don't think 
 they will extend it ; certainly not if the cause of his 
 illness is known. I have just written to Stent to ask 
 him to see Mr. Charteris, the chief of the office at 
 Somerset House.' 
 
 ' Never mind Somerset House, Robert. Our boy 
 can do better than earn a hundred and twenty a year 
 as junior clerk.' 
 
 , * I wish I saw my way to something better for him !* 
 said Mr. Lascelles, with a sigh. 
 
 - ' You dear blind old Robert ! Don't you see that 
 he is over head and ears in love with Edith Woodall, 
 and that he fought this duel because he was jealous of 
 that Italian's attentions to her V 
 ^ '^ ^ Whew !' whistled the Consul. ' How do you know 
 all that ?' 
 
 ' I have made Count Stornello confess all about it. 
 He knew a good deal, and anyone can guess the rest,*
 
 WHA T THE Y SAID AT POR TINO. 1 77 
 
 replied Mrs. Lascelles. ' Stornello admits that the 
 quarrel at the Club was all nonsense — a got-up thing, 
 in fact, to prevent Edith being talked about by all the 
 young men in Portino.' 
 
 * Well, I must confess that I was much surprised to 
 hear of Ronald quarrelling over cards,' said the Consul. 
 ^ I have never known him gamble, and I should have 
 heard of it soon enough if he had done so at the Club. 
 In fact, 1 was much more vexed about that than about 
 the duel.' 
 
 ' Don't worry any more about it, Robert. He does 
 not gamble. I don't believe he touches a card once a 
 month. I understood just now from Stornello that he 
 was jealous of the Marchese's great attention to Edith 
 Woodall, and interfered somehow to prevent it. I 
 €ould not make out exactly what he did, and I don't 
 think the Count himself quite knew. But at any rate 
 Signer della Rocca insulted Ronald, and he had to 
 iight.' 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 ¥01/ OLD GOOSE. 
 
 ' That is a very different story !' remarked Mr. 
 Lascelles. ' Now I begin to understand !' 
 
 * It is about time you did !' exclaimed his wife. 
 ' Fancy accusing our poor boy of gambling !' 
 
 ' But/ urged the Consul, ' I don't see how that mends 
 matters. It is only another trouble for the lad. His 
 heart is touched, poor fellow, as well as his leg, that is 
 all. And I fancy the leg will be cured soonest.' 
 
 * / don't agree with you,' said his wife, smiling. 
 
 * Why not ? What is your opinion, dear ?' 
 
 * Why, you old goose !' she exclaimed, ' you stick 
 in the office all day, and never see anything, and when 
 you do creep out of your hole you sit down to your 
 stupid rubber, and know nothing of what goes on ; 
 otherwise you could not have helped noticing.' 
 
 ' Noticing what ?' asked Mr. Lascelles. 
 
 ' Why, that Edith Woodall is quite as fond of the 
 boy as he is of her ! I know her well — we have both 
 known her ever since she was a baby. She is not a
 
 WHAT THEY SAID AT PORTINO. 179 
 
 bit of a flirt, but as good and sensible a creature as 
 ever lived ' 
 
 * Well V 
 
 ^ Well, if it had been any other girl I should have 
 declared that she flirted outrageously with Ronald. '- 
 
 ' Oh ! just at one dance !' observed Mr. Lascelles. 
 
 ' No, not at this one dance only. Ever since Ronald 
 has been here this time they have been constantly 
 together, and the girl is evidently as pleased with his 
 company as he is with hers. Trust a mother's eyes, 
 Robert ! They always see better than a man's in such 
 matters !' 
 
 ' Yery possibly you are right, dear. But supposing 
 it were so, I don't think Woodall would let his girl 
 marry Ronald.' 
 
 ' I do, then,' replied Mrs. Lascelles. ' In fact I am 
 sure he would have consented, even without this duel. 
 But don't you see how this helps the matter on ? 
 Why, without any of our doing, all Portino will be 
 
 12—2
 
 l8o HE HAS NOT GOT SIXPENCE. 
 
 talking about it to-morrow, and Ronald will be the 
 hero of the day. He was wounded in defence of 
 Edith ! Think what an effect that must have. Why, 
 Woodall would be a brute if he refused his consent 
 imder such circumstances, and then, of course, 
 Ronald's fortune is made.' 
 
 'Woodall has certainly always told me,' said the 
 Consul reflectively, ' that he intended to go back to 
 England as soon as he could get a suitable man to 
 take his place here, and that if his daughter's 
 choice fell on such a man, he would be very 
 pleased.* 
 
 ' Well, and can he have a better one than Ronald f 
 asked his mother. * Everybody likes him ; he knows 
 Portino as well as Woodall himself, and he speaks 
 Italian like a native.' 
 
 'But he has not got sixpence,' objected Mr. 
 Lascelles. 
 
 * The Woodalls have enough for all,' retorted his
 
 WHAT THEY SAID AT PORTINO. i8r 
 
 wife. ' It seems to me as clear as noonday. Nothing 
 could be more suitable, and we should have Ronald 
 and his wife settled happily here close to us.' 
 
 ' Are you quite sure, dear, that the young people 
 are fond of each other ?' asked the Consul again, still 
 believing that his wife's statement of the case was too 
 good to be true. 
 
 ' I have been quite certain about Edith for some 
 time, and now I am quite sure of Ronald as well,* 
 replied Mrs. Lascelles. ' He has had some foolish mis- 
 givings about not loving her enough to marry 
 her ' 
 
 '• Then you have spoken to him on the subject V 
 
 ' Oh 3^es ! before the duel. The poor boy is not 
 allowed to talk now. He was afraid he did not love 
 her as much as she deserved, and all that sort of thing. 
 Every word proved to me that he was extremely fond 
 of her, and now, of course, I can have no doubt what- 
 ever. '
 
 i82 THE NET. 
 
 ' Well, dear, possibly you are right. Indeed, now 
 you have shown me the matter in a new light, I hope 
 you are,' said the Consul. ' Shall I say anything at 
 present ?' 
 
 * Not a word, you old goose,' answered Mrs. Las- 
 celles, kissing him; 'you would only spoil every- 
 thing. Just hold your tongue, and don't interfere. 
 Men always make a mess of these things.' 
 
 Mr. Lascelles nodded good-humouredly. 
 
 ' All right,' he said. 
 
 And thus another mesh was added to the net which 
 was soon to hem Ronald in on all sides. 
 
 His mother's prophecy was a true one. Next day 
 Ronald was the hero of the English colony and of 
 Portino. The Italian doctors, accustomed to the dash 
 of their fellow-countrymen which is at once destroyed 
 by the sight of blood, talked everywhere of the extra- 
 ordinary fortitude of the young Englishman, who, 
 though grievously wounded, had refused to give in,
 
 and had steadily walked ten paces towards his adver- 
 sary. Stornello and Martini, though they endeavoured 
 to conceal the real cause of the duel, made no secret 
 of their principal's conduct, and praised his pluck and 
 generosity to the skies. Smarting under a most pain- 
 ful wound, and having the adversary who had inflicted 
 it entirely at his mercy, he had declined to take any 
 advantage of his position, and had given his life back 
 to the trembling Delia Rocca. The latter's fears 
 had not escaped his seconds, who were scarcely less 
 warm in their admiration for Ronald than his own 
 friends. So, of course, the news soon reached . Mr. 
 Woodall's bank. 
 
 It was first told to one of the clerks over the 
 counter, but scarcely believed. Then another cus- 
 tomer confirmed it ; then, as it haj^pened, Stornello 
 came in with a cheque, and the cashier took the 
 liberty to ask him about the matter. All the 
 clerks gathered round to listen, and other customers
 
 1 84 HE NEVER GAMBLES. 
 
 had to wait, which, being Itahans and therefore fond 
 of gossip, they did not mind at all. 
 
 The head clerk invented some excuse to go into- 
 Mr. Woodall's room, and there imparted the astound^ 
 ing information to his principal. The latter at once 
 came out from his sanctum and dragged Stornello in,, 
 to hear the tale from his own lips. But the young 
 Count, fresh from his interview with Mrs. Lascelles,. 
 was determined to be very careful this time, and 
 mentioned a quarrel at cards as the cause of the 
 duel. 
 
 ' Oh, dear !' said Mr. Woodall quite sadly ; ' I am 
 sorry to hear that the young man gambles.' 
 
 ' He never gambles, signore !' exclaimed Stornello 
 hotly. 
 
 'But you say this was a quarrel over cards,* re- 
 marked the banker, rather surprised at Stornello's 
 vehemence. 
 
 Quite a chance, signore — an unfortunate chance.
 
 WHAT THEY SAID AT PORTING. 185-, 
 
 Kinalcio religiously abstains from cards at the Casino. 
 I have never seen him play there before !' 
 
 ' Oh !' said Mr. Woodall, a little puzzled. 
 
 But, of course, being far less interested than Mr. 
 Lascelles, he did not cross-examine his informant. All 
 he did was to send a friendly note of inquiry to the 
 Consulate, hoping that Ronald's wound was progress- 
 ing favourably. And he went home to dinner a little 
 sooner than usual. Edith, as was her wont, met him 
 in the corridor when she heard his step. When he 
 told her what had occurred, she suddenly turned pale 
 and seized a table with her hand. Mr. Woodall was. 
 quite frightened. 
 
 ' What is it, darling V he exclaimed. ' I had no idea it 
 would alarm you so. Young Lascelles is, I understand, 
 getting on very well indeed. You need not be so put out.^ 
 
 ' Tell me all about it, father,' she said. ' It was 
 foolish of me, but the news rather upset me. I 
 thought of poor Mrs. Lascelles.'
 
 HO W NOBLE OF HIM. 
 
 This was probably the first story the girl had ever 
 told, and as she told it the blood, which had deserted 
 her face, canie rushing back till her very forehead and 
 neck were suffused with blushes. Mr. Woodall led 
 her back into the room, and noticed that she was still 
 trembling. 
 
 ' My poor child !' he said, ' don't be frightened ; 
 there is really nothing to distress you.' 
 
 But there was more than Mr. Woodall supposed. 
 At every moment she expected him to say that Ronald 
 had fought for her sake. For Edith, with the quick 
 instinct of budding love, had at once guessed why 
 Ronald had fought this duel. He had exposed his 
 life for her, to shield her from the insolence of the 
 Marchese ! He need not have done it, she thought ; 
 the Marchese was hardly even disagreeable, and there 
 was no cause to take serious steps. But how noble of 
 him ! Only when her father told the whole story, she 
 became quieter. For Ronald had been so thoughtful
 
 WHA T THE V SAW A T PORTINO. 187 
 
 as to keep her out of it altogether, so that no one but 
 herself could possibly guess the real reason of the 
 encounter. How truly generous and brave ! When 
 Mr. Woodall remarked that the lad appeared to have 
 been hasty, and had no business to have quarrelled 
 over cards, her blue eyes sparkled, and she exclaimed, 
 ' Oh, I am sure he never played cards, papa !' which 
 made Mr. Woodall ask sharply ' What she knew about 
 it ?' So that she blushed again, and stammered very 
 foolishly. But then the banker went on to say that 
 young Lascelles seemed to have behaved very pluckily, 
 and also quite handsomely, and poor Edith blushed 
 again, though this time with pleasure. She could not 
 help murmuring, ' He is very good,' which Mr. Wood- 
 all considered rather a singular comment on the affair. 
 And when he had done his story, she asked him so 
 many questions about it that he ^ could not reply 
 to them, and advised her to go and see Mrs. 
 Lascelles after dinner. As this was exactly what
 
 A DIFFERENT VIEW. 
 
 Edith herself wished, she agreed without much 
 demur. 
 
 Ronald's friends at Portino evidently did not take 
 the same view of the duel as his connections in 
 London.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE maiden's secret. 
 
 Edith was shown into the empty drawing-room. 
 " The signorina is not very well,' said Luisa, as she 
 departed to announce the visitor to Mrs. Lascelles. 
 
 Soon Teresina opened the door, and the girls flew 
 into each other's arms. 
 
 ' How is he ?' asked Edith. ' What a dreadful 
 thing !' 
 
 'Oh, dear!' replied Teresina, bursting into tears. 
 " He is not nearly so well to-night. They have to put 
 ice on his head and on his poor leg.' 
 
 Edith felt herself turning very pale. 
 
 * What is the matter ?' she asked.
 
 igo YOU ARE FOND OF HIM? 
 
 ' Fever, they say/ answered Teresina, between her 
 sobs. 'Oh, Edith dear, if you knew how good he 
 was ! Darling Konald !' 
 
 ' I know he was very kind and nice,' said Edith, 
 who would have Hked to cry also, and thought that 
 her words sounded very cold and unsympathetic. 
 
 * You can't know ! How should you V cried the 
 young girl almost angrily. ' You are not his sister. 
 But you are fond of him, are you not ?' she asked 
 innocently. 
 
 Edith turned scarlet again, and looked into the 
 4 tear-stained face of her friend scrutinizingly. The 
 troubled but transparent gaze reassured her. Tere- 
 sina, at any rate, had not guessed, her secret. 
 
 'Of course I like him very much !' she answered, 
 kissing the girl, ' as I like you all — particularly you, 
 dearest.' 
 
 Things were progressing rapidly ; for this was the 
 second story Edith had told in one evening. Teresina
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. 191 
 
 returned her friend's kiss unsuspiciously and went 
 on: 
 
 'Fancy, dear; he actually took me and youngs 
 Signer Donati out for a sail in the yacht ! Oh, I was 
 so horribly wicked !' 
 
 * Wicked, my darling 1' exclaimed Edith ; ' why what 
 on earth do you mean ?' 
 
 ' How could I guess that dear, brave Ronald had 
 to fight a duel ? And his nasty, cross, selfish sister 
 actually worried him to stop out longer, and chattered 
 to him all the time. How mad he must have felt !' 
 
 ' When did he take you out ?' asked Edith eagerly, 
 scarcely understanding Teresina's self-reproaches. 
 
 ' Why, yesterday — the very day of the duel!* 
 replied the young girl. ' Only think ! He knew he 
 was going to fight that horrid Marchese, and instead 
 of spending his time with his friends, he actually 
 devoted it all to poor naughty me I' 
 
 * How nice of him !'
 
 192 IT IS ALL MY FA ULT. 
 
 ' Nice I You call everything nice, Edith. It may 
 he a proper word, but / think it very cold. It was 
 lieroic ! Why, a few hours later he had to fight for his 
 life ! And I made him wretched by worrying ! And 
 do you know, Edith,' here she lowered her voice to a 
 whisper, ' I almost cried because he was so determined 
 to go home, and thought it so unkind of him.^ 
 
 * But, my poor pet, you knew nothing at all about 
 it !' said Edith consolingly. 
 
 ' Of course I did not I I should have told papa 
 ■directly, and he would have stopped it,' exclaimed 
 Teresina. ' Oh dear ! it is all my fault,' she went on ; 
 * if I had been a clever, sensible girl I should have 
 seen that poor Ronald had something on his mind, 
 and I should have got it all out of him !' Then the 
 sobs began afresh. 
 
 Edith was burning to ask for details as to the 
 sufferer's condition, and the prospects of its improving. 
 But poor Teresina was not able to give them. Fresh
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. 193 
 
 tears and cries of despair were all that Edith could 
 elicit from her. At last Luisa came in, bringing some 
 tea ; and when she saw the pale, anxious faces of the 
 girls, she exercised the authority of an old servant and 
 walked Teresina off, apologizing with native grace ibr 
 the poor reception Edith had had. 
 
 Very sadly did the latter walk home, leaning on 
 Marietta's arm. Then she retired at once to her 
 room. Ronald was very ill. He might die; and if he 
 died, she, Edith Woodall, had caused his death. She 
 tried to think what the future would be without 
 Ronald. She was surprised to find how great a part 
 Ronald played in her own life. He had not been 
 much at Portino until recently, and yet everything 
 she now cared about seemed connected with him 
 somehow. She could not think of even such a trific 
 as croquet without Ronald. The game she thougljt 
 herself so fond of (it was then in the height of its 
 popularity) would be rubbish if he were not there. 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 ^^'AS HE FOND OF HER? 
 
 And how wicked now to let her thoughts dwell on 
 croquet, while Ronald was groaning on a sick-bed, 
 wounded nigh unto death for her sake ! She bitterly 
 repented having danced so often with Delia Rocca. 
 Of course if she had not given the Marchese any en- 
 couragement Ronald would not have quarrelled with 
 him. How dreadful of her! And she had been so 
 flippant when he had spoken to her about the Italian. 
 No Avonder the poor fellow was angry. 
 
 Suddenly she felt herself blush at a thought that 
 struck her. Was Ronald fond of her ? She knew he 
 had fought for her, and for her sake only ; so much 
 was certain. But was he very fond of her as well ? or 
 did he only fight because he did not like to see an 
 English girl, an old friend, persecuted by disagreeable 
 attentions ? In a tumult of emotion at the vista thus 
 opened up, Edith could not for some time collect her 
 faculties to reason the matter out. She was an emi- 
 nently sensible girl, and she would not be carried
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. 
 
 193 
 
 away by a silly fancy. She would think it over calmly 
 -and logically. Did men generally fight duels for girls 
 they did not care about ? She thought not. At any 
 rate it was not usual. On the other hand, it had been 
 for centuries understood and accepted that lovers 
 should draw the sword in defence of their lady-loves. 
 Certainly, then, it appeared probable that Ronald did 
 care a little. A little ! And then it flashed across 
 her that he must have cared enough to risk his life, 
 -and that that precious life was still in peril. AVhat 
 mattered it, then, whether he loved her or not if he 
 was going to die ? Die, because she chose to flirt with 
 an Italian Marchese ! How she hated that Italian. 
 -She would have strangled him with her own slender 
 lingers if he had been within her reach. And now 
 she could do nothing but wait and pray. She could 
 not even help to nurse Ronald ; it would not be con- 
 sidered proper. Oh! if she could only just do one 
 little thing for him, if she were only allowed to run 
 
 13—2
 
 QUITE UNWORTHY. 
 
 errands and carry messages, what a relief it would be \ 
 But slie must not betray her secret ; she must not let 
 anyone suspect the real cause of the duel ! She would 
 never hold up her head again in Portino if it were 
 known ! For of course they would all blame her, and 
 justly too, and say that she had gone on dreadfully 
 with the Marchese, and make matters out even worse 
 than they were; for Portino was a gossiping place. 
 They would whisper about her everywhere, and say 
 that the gallant young man had fought for a very 
 unworthy object. 
 
 She was very miserable during the long hours of 
 that night. Even if Ronald recovered, she felt that 
 she would never be her own self again. Probably he 
 despised her, and had only fought for her as a matter 
 of duty. He was right to despise her ; she knew she 
 was quite unworthy of him. He had spent several 
 years in London, and had gone everywhere, and had 
 seen the most attractive and charming ladies in Eng-
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. i<^7 
 
 land ; and she was quite a plain provincial, getting her 
 fashions at second-hand, and knowing nothing of the 
 irreat world in which Ronald had moved. Of course 
 
 o 
 
 he had seen and could see nothing in her except an old 
 friend. He was good and kind to her, and had 
 spoken very sweetly at the fatal dance, but then that 
 was Ronald's way! He was such a dear fellow, so 
 bright and pleasant, and always ready to oblige every- 
 one, and anxious to please. And now, of course, when- 
 ever he felt a pang from his wound he would think 
 that she had caused it, and would not only despise her, 
 but hate her altogether. She would deserve it all. 
 She would look after her father's house, and would 
 leave off going out, and not care about anything, and 
 certainly, oh certainly, never marry. Of course not, 
 that was out of the question. 
 
 At last her weary eyes closed, and her hot head 
 found rest on the pillow moist with tears. Mr. 
 Woodall was quite shocked at her appearance
 
 198 THAT OUGHT NOT TO UPSET YOU. 
 
 next morning. Never had his daughter looked so- 
 pale, and Edith required colour to make her attractive. 
 To-day she had dark rims under her dim eyes, her 
 cheeks were quite white, and — dreadful though true — 
 her nose was red. It has already been mentioned 
 that Edith's nose was larger than the conventional noso 
 of a heroine in a novel. If she has thereby lost tho 
 reader's sympathy it is her misfortune, not the fault of 
 the accurate story-teller. 
 
 ' What is the matter, Edith ?' asked the banker 
 anxiously ; ' you look quite ill.' 
 
 ' Nothing particular, papa,' she answered. ' I was 
 rather upset last night at the Consulate ; that is; 
 all' 
 
 ' Marietta told me that Konald Lascelles was 
 feverish,' said Mr. Woodall, ' but that ought not to 
 upset you, Edith.' 
 
 Put in so simple and plain a form, it certainly 
 ought not to have affected Edith's appearance. But
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. 199 
 
 her woman's wit was equal to the emergency, and she 
 was able, this time, to confine herself pretty well with- 
 in the bounds of truth : 
 
 ' Poor little Teresina was so dreadfully cut up,' she 
 said, ' and did nothing but cry and sob and reproach 
 herself for having gone out sailing with Ronald 
 Lascelles.' 
 
 And at the recollection Edith herself could scarcely 
 repress her tears. She choked them down, however, 
 and busied herself with making tea, and generally 
 attending on her father, and then she endeavoured to 
 talk of other matters till Mr. Woodall took up. his 
 Gazetta di Portino, and began to scan its meagre 
 columns. Then she hid behind the urn, and pre- 
 tended to eat, but did little else than cut her roll into 
 small pieces, take them up and put them down again. 
 Mr. Woodall occasionally looked up from his paper. 
 Evidently the news did not interest him as much as 
 usual. He watched his daughter closely.
 
 203 I HA VE NOT SLEPT WELL. 
 
 ' You are not eating anything, Edith/ he remarked 
 abruptly. 
 
 ' I am not hungry, papa dear/ 
 
 * What is the matter with you ?' asked the banker 
 almost impatiently. * I shall send for Salviati.' 
 
 ' Please not, papa ; I assure you it is nothing !' 
 
 ' But you look like a ghost, and you have not eaten 
 even a scrap of bread and butter. There is your egg 
 untouched.' 
 
 ' I can't eat, papa dear. I shall be better by-and- 
 by.' 
 
 ' There is nothing like nipping a complaint in the 
 bud, my child,' answered Mr. Woodall. ' I'll send for 
 the doctor, and he'll tell us whether you're going to 
 have anything the matter with you/ 
 
 ' Keally/ pleaded Edith piteously, ' there is nothing 
 wrong. I have not slept well, and I was dreadfully 
 shocked last night about all this ' 
 
 'That's all very well,' interrupted Mr. Woodall;
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. 
 
 * but you ought to have got over it by this time. 
 Young men have fought duels before now, and you 
 did not look like death when you heard about it. 
 Xow be a good girl, and drink some tea at once.' 
 
 Mr. Woodall had spoken throughout in a good- 
 natured tone, and his words sounded far kinder than 
 they may appear in print. But his persistence and his 
 •curious glances alarmed Edith. She drank some tea, 
 iuid tried to take a spoonful of Oigg. 
 
 ' That's right, Edith,' said her father encouragingly. 
 
 * After all, you know, the young man is no relation, 
 though we have always been great friends with -the 
 Lascelles. I should be awfully sorry if anything were 
 to happen to him. Halloo !' 
 
 The exclamation was caused by Edith suddenly 
 raising her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes and 
 bursting into tears. In another moment she rushed 
 from the room with an inaudible apology. 
 
 Mr. Woodall put down his paper altogether. He
 
 202 BEEF TEA. 
 
 looked after her for a minute or two with a puzzled^ 
 soHd expression. 'What is all this about?' thought 
 he. ' These are not Edith's ways. She is a sensible 
 girl, and does not indulge in hysterics, nor fainting fits, 
 nor any other female fads. There must be something 
 more behind it.' And Mr. Woodall resolved to watch 
 his daughter closely, and not to speak of the duel for 
 a day or two. 
 
 Perhaps old Marietta had a shrewd suspicion of 
 what was going on in her young mistress's heart. At 
 any rate Edith was not disturbed for an hour, after 
 which the old woman appeared with a cup of strong 
 beef- tea. At first Edith declined to take it, but she 
 was soon bribed by the suggestion that perhaps, when 
 the signorina had taken it, she would feel strong 
 enough to walk along the Via Marina and inquire how 
 the signorino cavaliere had passed the night. 
 
 It was strange how quickly that beef-tea restored 
 her. In less than ten minutes they were facing a
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. 205 
 
 Strong sirocco, and trying to keep their nmbrellas^ 
 steady to shelter them from the pelting showers. But, 
 wet and windy as it was, Edith stopped as they crossed 
 the market-place. The stalls were all turned to lee- 
 ward, and the women who had no stalls had taken 
 refuge under the columned portico of Santissima An- 
 nunziata. But there were flowers in abundance, all 
 the more for the warm spring showers. Disdaining 
 the artfully made-up bouquets, Edith bought a great 
 bunch of fragrant white roses, and then walked on 
 silently to the Consulate. 
 
 To-day she was not kept waiting long in the eftipt j 
 drawing-room. Mrs. Lascelles came in almost at once. 
 A glance at the mother's face, and the harrowing 
 anxiety disappeared from Edith's heart. 
 
 ' He is better !' she exclaimed, rushing for- 
 ward. 
 
 ' Much better, my dear ! He is fast asleep ; he has 
 slept ever since two o'clock this morning. We are all
 
 204 DON'T SA Y THEY CAME FROM ME. 
 
 ,so much relieved. Nothing but quiet is now neces- 
 sary.' 
 
 Edith looked positively radiant. 
 ' I am so glad !' she said ; ' and — papa will be so 
 pleased.' 
 
 Then the two sat down and talked — Edith shy and 
 blushing, Mrs. Lascelles demonstrative and affec- 
 tionate — and after a short stay the girl rose, and, 
 pointing to her flowers, said : 
 
 ' Do you think he could bear the smell ?' 
 ' Why not, dear ?' asked Mrs. Lascelles. ' He is 
 extremely fond of roses, and I am sure when he wakes 
 he will be glad to see them by his side, and still more 
 pleased when he knows who sent them.' 
 
 ' But,' stammered Edith, ' don't say they came from 
 me !' 
 
 ' Very well,' answered Mrs. Lascelles, smiling ; ' 1 
 Avill tell him that Mr. Woodall sent them. He will 
 think it very kind of your father.'
 
 THE MAIDEN'S SECRET. 205 
 
 The girl blushed again. 
 
 ' No, no !' she exclaimed, ' he knows that papa 
 would not send him flowers. Just put them in his 
 room and say nothing.' 
 
 ' Just as you please, dear,' Mrs. Lascelles said good- 
 humouredly. 'And now good-bye; I am going to 
 look after my invalid.' 
 
 Edith bad her farewell, and kissed her. To her sur- 
 prise Mrs. Lascelles put an arm round her neck and 
 whispered : 
 
 * I know why they fought, Edith dear. Your secret 
 is safe with me.' • 
 
 Then she pressed the girl's hands warmly, and 
 swiftly ascended the stairs, leaving her wondering and 
 scarlet. 
 
 Thus was another mesh woven of the net which was 
 to enclose Ronald in its trammels.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles was the very best mother in a world 
 which is, fortunately for male mankind, full of good 
 mothers. She never lost her head for a moment 
 during Ronald's illness. She was ever watchful, but 
 never fussy. Everything was done that could be 
 done, and no precaution was neglected, and yet the 
 patient knew but little of all the trouble taken, and 
 was ignorant of the endless though individually trifling 
 measures adopted in obedience to the instructions of 
 the doctors. He was not only told ' not to worry ' — 
 an instruction so easy to give and so difficult for sick 
 men to obey — but every cause of worry was sedulously
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 207 
 
 removed. On the Monday following he should, ac- 
 •cording to previous arrangement, have started for 
 London, and though of course it was impossible for 
 him even to leave his bed, on which a huge apparatus 
 protected the wounded limb from the slightest touch, 
 he became restless when the day arrived, and there 
 was a return of feverishness. 
 
 ' Do not be anxious, said Mrs. Lascelles, when she 
 noticed that his thin cheeks were flushed and his eyes 
 brighter than usual. ' Your father has arranged for 
 an extension of leave.' 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles was not absolutely correct -in her 
 .statement. No answer from Mr. Charteris had yet 
 4\r rived, and the Consul entertained serious doubts as 
 to the reception his request would meet with. But 
 she thought that it was her duty to her son to put 
 matters in the most favourable light possible. Visits 
 of inquiry and condolence had been numerous. Some 
 of the callers had been impelled by motives of curi-
 
 2o8 UNDER STRICT CONFIDENCE / 
 
 osity, and all would have been glad to be certain of 
 the real cause of the duel. It had been whispered 
 about in some quarters, and the gossips of Portino 
 even went so far as to say that the Marchese had 
 grossly insulted Miss Woodall in Ralph's hearing. 
 But then the gossips of Portino were not more careful 
 in their statements than those of other towns, where- 
 fore people would have been glad to know the truth 
 from Mrs. Lascelles herself. 
 
 That lady thought that she held the trump cards, 
 and was not in a hurry to play them. She evaded 
 most of the questions, and assumed an air of mystery 
 which only stimulated curiosity still further. When 
 Ronald was out of danger, she confided to a few chosen 
 female friends, under the strictest promise of secrecy, 
 that the real cause of the duel was Ronald's jealousy 
 of the Marchese's attentions to Edith Woodall. When 
 her friends asked, as they naturally did, whether the 
 young people were engaged, Mrs. Lascelles at once 
 said :
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN, 209 
 
 ' No ! certainly not ! But my boy undoubtedly 
 admires her very much. It is a pity tliat we are so 
 badly off ! I never regretted being poor so much as I 
 do now. He has not proposed to her, because she is 
 so rich. But of course this is quite strictly private.' 
 
 ' Of course/ the friendly gossip would reply, though 
 already debating whom she should first tell. Then, 
 after some sympathetic words from her friend, Mrs. 
 Woodall would go on : 
 
 ' You see, he is so proud. Everybody says he be- 
 haved wonderfully on that dreadful day, under the 
 most trying circumstances. But he would not have 
 it said that he married Edith Woodall for her money. 
 It would kill him.' 
 
 Thus Mrs. Lascelles' chosen allies went away with 
 the conviction that Ronald was deeply in love with 
 Edith, and that the affection was mutual, but that the 
 young man was too high-minded to take advantage of 
 this circumstance. And as the matter was discussed 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2IO A GREATER HERO THAN EVER. 
 
 by at least half a dozen ladies with closed doors, the 
 English colony knew all about it the next day. By 
 noonday Ronald was a greater hero than ever, and while 
 the ladies praised his nobility of character and his good 
 looks, the men called him a real brick, and thought 
 that he was almost too high-minded for a mercenary 
 world. On that morning even Mr. Woodall ob- 
 tained an inkling of what was going on. A 
 merchant on 'Change asked him very pointedly how 
 Miss Woodall was. 
 
 * Yery well, thank you,' answered the banker ; and 
 as he was still preoccupied about her health, he added 
 quickly, ' Why should she be otherwise V 
 
 ' I thought this duel must have affected her much,* 
 replied the speaker, under the impression that Mr. 
 Woodall of course knew all about it. 
 
 ' Oh ! She was upset for the moment, but she is all 
 right now, thank you,' replied he. 
 
 ' I am glad to hear it. Please present my compli-
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 211 
 
 ments,' his friend went on innocently, 'it is not every 
 young lady who has so gallant a champion as Mr. 
 Lascelles. Good-day.' 
 
 Mr. Woodall stared after the departing merchant. 
 Suddenly he understood why Edith had heen so 
 agitated, had lost her appetite, and had burst into 
 tears. Good heavens ! The young people were in 
 love with each other, and Ronald Lascelles had fought 
 the Marchese for the sake of his daughter ! 
 
 Mr. Woodall walked home very thoughtfully. He 
 was serious, very serious, but he did not look cross 
 or angry. On the contrary, he spoke to his clerks in 
 a gentler tone than usual, and was more patient than 
 he generally was with a couple of importunate idlers 
 who gained admittance into his back room. 
 
 ^Irs. Lascelles' private information to her friends had 
 borne fruit even more quickly than she herself could 
 have hoped. She did not exjDect that Mr. Woodall 
 would so soon obtain the key to his daughter's pallor 
 
 14—2
 
 212 IV£ ARE MUCH GRIEVED. 
 
 and to lier frequent visits to Teresina. She had only 
 wished to prepare the ground, and to gain all Portino 
 to her side of the question. She was reinforced in an 
 unexpected manner by two letters which Mr. Las> 
 celles brought up to her in the afternoon. 
 
 One was from George Stent. It ran as follows : 
 
 * Dear Mr. Lascelles, 
 
 * We were much grieved at the intelligence 
 conveyed in your favour of the 8th inst. Both Clara 
 and myself are sincerely sorry to hear that Ronald is. 
 hurt, and that his recovery is not likely to be rapid. 
 But our sorrow on this account is far surpassed b}^ the 
 pain we feel at the young man having committed so 
 wrong and unchristian an act as to fight a duel, and 
 for so paltry and wicked a cause as a quarrel over 
 cards. AVe will not, however, add to the natural grief 
 which you and Mrs. Lascelles must feel, by any con- 
 demnatory remarks.
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 213 
 
 ' In compliance with your request, I called this 
 morning on Mr. Charteris, and delivered your letter. 
 He informed me that he would reply to it himself, but 
 I gathered that he was not very favourably disposed 
 towards your unfortunate son. I cannot say that I 
 am surprised at this circumstance. 
 
 ' Clara continues as well as can be expected. I have 
 <lissuaded her from writing herself, as she is naturally 
 much disturbed by her brother's misconduct. It is, 
 indeed, fortunate that the news, owing to the pre- 
 cautions I took, has had no serious consequence. She 
 sends her best love to you, Mrs. Lascelles, and her sister. 
 With kind regards, believe me to remain, 
 ' Dear Mr. Lascelles, 
 
 ' Yours very sincerely, 
 
 ' George Stent.' 
 
 ' What a heartless, odious letter !' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Lascelles. ' Poor Clara ! I had no idea he was such 
 a cold-blooded creature, had you ?'
 
 214 ^1^ IS ^ PRIG. 
 
 ' No, indeed,' exclaimed the Consul, ' or I would 
 never have sanctioned the marriage, notwithstanding 
 all his money. He is a prig ! Fancy condoling with 
 us on poor Konald's misconduct, as he calls it.' 
 
 ' Yes, and saying that he won't add any condemna- 
 tory remarks. It is too bad. Yet, somehow, he does 
 not seem to make Clara miserable. She always writes. 
 us if she adored him.' 
 
 ' Perhaps she does,' said Mr. Lascelles, shrugging his 
 shoulders, a gesture acquired by long residence in 
 Italy ; ' tastes differ. But look at this ! It makes 
 matters worse.' 
 
 ' This ' was a letter from Mr. Charteris. 
 
 ' Sir ' (it said), 
 
 ' In reply to your letter, in which you request 
 further leave of absence for your son, Mr. Ronald Las- 
 celles, on account of his serious illness, I beg to inform 
 you that it is not in my power to grant it, as all
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 215 
 
 requests for leave beyond that allowed by the Depart- 
 mental rules must be referred to the Treasury. In 
 order, however, to save time, I have transmitted your 
 letter, with the medical certificates enclosed in it, to 
 the Junior Lord, whose decision will in due course be 
 communicated to you. 
 
 ' I am, Sir, 
 
 * Your obedient servant, 
 
 ' F. G. Charteris.' 
 
 ' This is not very encouraging, is it T asked the 
 Consul. 
 
 * Indeed it is not !' replied his wife. ' It is all 
 George's fault. What a pity you wrote to him !' 
 
 * I regret it bitterly,' said Mr. Lascelles. ' I thought 
 no one would work so heartily for poor Konald as his 
 brother-in-law. It seems that I was quite wrong, and 
 should have done better to send my letter to Mr. 
 Charteris by post.'
 
 2i6 YOU KNOW BEST. 
 
 ' I do not suppose lie will get the extension now/ 
 remarked Mrs. Lascelles. ' What will happen if it is 
 refused V 
 
 ' He will be struck off the list, that is all,' replied 
 the Consul. 
 
 ' Do you know that I shall not be so very sorry ? 
 When once that wretched office is off his mind, he will 
 mend much more quickly, and I am sure that then 
 ^^e need not wait long before he is engaged to Edith 
 WoodalL' 
 
 ' You still think he is fond of her ?' 
 
 ' I am more sure of it than ever.' replied Mrs. Las- 
 celles. ' And as to her, she positively worships him. 
 She is always coming to see Teresina now, and talks 
 to the child for hours about nothing but Ronald. She 
 sends flowers for his room every day. I know they 
 come from her, though the sly puss pretends that they 
 don't' 
 
 ' Well, you know best,' answered the Consul, again
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 217 
 
 shrugging his shoulders. ' But I should he very sorry 
 if Ronald lost his appointment.' 
 
 ' The very best thing that could happen to him,' the 
 lady said very positively. 
 
 And thus another mesh was woven in the net. 
 
 ]ilrs. Lascelles had indeed somxO grounds for saying 
 that she was more certain than before about Ronald's 
 affection. The young man was ill, therefore easily 
 affected. Of course his mother had made no secret of 
 Edith's frequent visits. She was far too clever to 
 rush in and say that the girl was there again — far too 
 acute to volunteer any statements whatever. But 
 vrhen she arranged the flowers, she took care that 
 Ronald should ask her who had sent them ; when Tere- 
 sina returned to the sick-room to take charge of her 
 brother she did not forget to inquire whether anyone 
 had called, and who. She had been almost tri- 
 umphant when Mr. Woodall himself looked in on the 
 Sunday, to ask about the invalid's progress ; but she
 
 21 8 MARSHAL NT EL. 
 
 had understood how to coDceal her triuniph. At that 
 time, of course, the banker had known nothmg except 
 that there had been a quarrel, and his visit had simply 
 been paid out of kindliness to his old friend the 
 Consul. But Mrs. Lascelles produced the card on the 
 Tuesday, quite accidentally, and watched Konald's 
 face while he looked at it. It did not, however, tell 
 her very much. She learnt more from his glance of 
 satisfaction when the daily bouquet was brought in. 
 
 Few men in rude health know what the sight and 
 perfume of a Marshal Niel rose means to an invalid 
 nailed to his couch. Ronald's pleasure was at first a 
 purely sensual one. He ahvays delighted in flowers,. 
 and when he could do nothing but lie on his back and 
 listen to Teresina's reading, he almost yearned for 
 them. They brought him the sun and the fresh air 
 and the blue sky, and he inhaled their intoxicating 
 perfume with positive greed. He took a pale saffron- 
 coloured rose and laid it on the coverlet ; he raised it
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 219 
 
 to his face and smelt it ; he examined it, and admired 
 it, and smelt it again. All this was merely because he 
 liked roses much, and he was weak and ill, and they 
 pleased him and soothed him. But Mrs. Lascelles 
 made up her mind that he was worshipping the giver ; 
 and if she had ever had any doubts at all about the 
 intensity of her son's love for Edith, they now dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 And no doubt Ronald did sometimes — very often, 
 in fact — think of the fair girl who filled the sick-room 
 with flowers, and called so often to hear of his progress. 
 However fond a man may be of his young sister, )fow- 
 ever much he may adore his mother, the hours are 
 apt to pass heavily when he has absolutely no other 
 company but theirs. The doctors had prohibited 
 visits altogether. Only the nurse, Teresina, and Mrs. 
 Lascelles could be trusted to refuse to talk themselves 
 and to reduce the invalid to silence when he had 
 talked enough. Even the Consul was only allowed
 
 YOU MUST NOT TELL. 
 
 live minutes morning and evening. So Ronald had 
 plenty of time to think, and he sometimes thought that 
 it would be very pleasant for a change if Edith were 
 there to read to him, or to play to him, or even simply 
 to sit still. He also caught himself wondering what she 
 thought of the duel, and whether she knew why he 
 had fought it. He would have been so glad to see 
 Stornello, or Colonel Martini, or young Donati ; for he 
 would have liked to know what Portino said. 
 
 A man may be very plucky and single-minded 
 during a duel ; but when it is all over, and when he 
 has to bear a long period of confinement, he will not 
 unnaturally begin to think that he ought to get some 
 good by his endurance of suffering. So one day he 
 iisked Teresina what was the last news in Portino. 
 
 ' They say you were brave to fight, and very noble 
 to let the man off',' replied Teresina, kissing him. 
 ' But you must not excite j^ourself, dear. Dr. Salviati 
 says you must not talk about the duel.'
 
 THE MESHES ARE WOVEN. 221 
 
 Further cross-examination was of no use. Teresina 
 knew nothing particular. Gossip had not reached 
 her still juvenile ears. Eonald was determined not to 
 ask his mother, who, as he sometimes expressed it in 
 his own thoughts, ' had gone over to the enemy,' or, 
 in other words, wanted him to marry. He must wait 
 till he was allowed to see his male friends. He had 
 not to wait very long. Before another week was over 
 young Donati, who had often craved admittance, was 
 at last allowed to come in. As he was young and 
 had not been present at the duel, he was considered 
 the most harmless of Ronald's friends. There was of 
 course much hand-pressing and much condolence. 
 Then Ronald looked round, and asked the sick- nurse 
 to fetch him some beef-tea. This he knew would take 
 a few minutes. 
 
 * What do they say about the duel, Donati ? I 
 mean, about the cause of it V 
 
 ' What should they say, cavo mio ? They say you
 
 LUCKY MAN! 
 
 foiiG^ht like a lion for the Simorina AVoodall, and that 
 she must be very hard-hearted to refuse you !' 
 
 ' Then they know !' gasped Ronald. ' Who told 
 them ? Who told you ?' 
 
 ' Chi lo SCO ? It Avas in the air ! On Sunday no- 
 body knew. They said you had quarrelled at the 
 Casino. On Tuesday, behold they all knew, even the 
 veriest baby. And they all wish to congratulate ; I 
 first of all, mio caro amico ' 
 
 Tlie nurse was too quick for the friends. She would 
 not leave her patient long, so simply ordered the beef- 
 tea and returned. The conversation had to be conducted 
 very carefully, and the special subject avoided. 
 
 Just whea ^Irs. Lascelles called Donati away, as his 
 quarter of an hour had expired, the young man stooped 
 over his friend and kissed him in Italian fashion on 
 both cheeks. At the same time he whispered : 
 
 ' Courage, Rinaldo. The day you can rise, go and 
 ask the hanchiere for his daughter. Lucky man !'
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS. 
 
 Mr. Charteris' letter to the Consul was followed, in 
 ■about a week, by a communication from the Junior 
 Lord of the Treasury. This was couched in warmer 
 and more courteous terms than the Somerset 
 House epistle, for Mr. Lascelles' services ^were 
 sufficiently well known and appreciated in official 
 circles for him to be treated as a valued public 
 servant. 
 
 The letter was marked ' Private and Confidential/ 
 and the writer took the liberty to suggest that the 
 best plan would be for Mr. Eonald Lascelles to send in 
 his resignation on the score of ill-health. ' ^ly Lords/
 
 224 RECOMMENDED, TO RESIGN. 
 
 said the friendly Junior Lord, would scarcely be in a 
 position to grant Mr. Lascelles a further extension of 
 leave. Mr. Cliarteris had been informed of the appli- 
 cant's illness and its cause, which would militate 
 seriously against the indulgence requested. It would 
 probably be better for Mr. Eonald Lascelles to resign 
 now, and to make an application for re-admission to 
 the Civil Service at some future time, when he was 
 quite restored to health and the boyish quarrel was 
 forgotten. 
 
 Of course Mr. Lascelles attributed this advice 
 entirely to his son-in-law's hostile officiousness. His 
 irritation was extreme, and he vented his anger by a 
 very stiff note to Mr. George Stent, which scarcely 
 ruffled that gentleman at all, as he felt conscious of 
 having done his duty. There was a consultation be- 
 tween the parents and the doctors as to whether 
 Ronald should be informed of the state of things. The 
 matter was urgent ; and as the fever had now entirely
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS. 225 
 
 disappeared, it was determined that the young man 
 should be informed of his altered prospects. 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles undertook the task, which was an 
 easy one to her, for reasons already explained. 
 
 ' George Stent has been very stupid,' she said to 
 Eonald ; ' but I think his stupidity will turn out for 
 the best.' 
 
 And then she told him what had happened, con- 
 cluding with the words : 
 
 ' So now you must not worry about Somerset House. 
 Get well as soon as you can, and then we will talk 
 about what you shall do next.' • 
 
 ' I do not see what I am to do !' said Konald de- 
 spondingly. 
 
 ' Nonsense, Ronald ! Why surely you have it all 
 your own way I' 
 
 He suspected his mother's drift, but did not, at first, 
 choose to understand. 
 
 ' Nothing but my father's allowance, and no pro- 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 2 26 YOU SHOULD CONFIDE IN ME. 
 
 spects of a berth ! I do not call that having it all my 
 own way.' 
 
 ' And a charming girl, with a large fortune, ready to 
 marry you the moment you ask her,' replied his 
 mother, smiling. ' Certainly the prospect is very bad 
 indeed ! — but it is one which most young men would 
 envy.' 
 
 ' I cannot make up my mind about that yet,' 
 answered Ronald. 
 
 'Really, you surprise me, dear,' said his mother 
 gently. * You go and fight a duel because some man 
 pays her attention ' (Ronald started), ' you create a 
 sensation in the place ; you 'pose as her champion, and 
 get severely hurt on her behalf, and then you say you 
 can't make up your mind. What is it, dear boy, that 
 worries you ?' she asked, gently stroking his soft hair. 
 ' Tell me. No one can be so anxious for your future 
 happiness as I am, and you should confide in me.' 
 
 ' There is really nothing more to tell, mother, than
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS. 227 
 
 what I have already said/ he repHed. ' I do not think 
 I love Edith well enough to marry her.' 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles smiled, thinking of the duel, and 
 remembering the Marshal Niel roses. 
 
 ' You need not be afraid, Eonald. There are few 
 men who would coolly expose their lives for a girl, 
 even if they loved her very much. Do you think 
 George Stent would have fought a duel for Clara ?' 
 
 ' No,' laughed Ronald ; ' it's not in his line.' 
 
 ' Yet he loves her deeply, I believe, and I think they 
 are very happy. Don't be such a goose, Ronald. I 
 can't understand your doubts. It seems to me thg^t if 
 €ver there was a case of love on both sides, this is 
 one.' 
 
 ' I cannot explain myself, mother, but I suppose you 
 are rio'ht after all.' 
 
 o 
 
 ' Of course I am_, Ronald. You may trust my experi- 
 ence.' 
 
 The young man did not look quite convinced, but 
 
 15—2
 
 228 HOW PALE YOU LOOK/ 
 
 there was a flush on his cheek which warned his 
 mother that the exciting discussion must not be pur- 
 sued further. She turned the conversation. Ronald 
 became very silent, and scarcely paid attention to his 
 mother's remarks. 
 
 'Do you not think that I might see Stornello, 
 mother ?' he asked at length. ' The poor fellow has 
 been here so often, and has never once been admitted ; 
 and really I am fit to talk to anyone now.' 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles raised no objection, and with a grati- 
 fied sigh Ronald laid his head back on the pillow. 
 For he had resolved to have a serious talk with his 
 old friend before finally deciding on the step his 
 mother advised so warmly. Storncllo was young, he 
 was enthusiastic, he had been — perhaps still was — 
 really in love, and would therefore understand Ronald 
 better than even his mother. 
 
 ' My dearest friend, how pale you look ! Eoiitd 
 divina, what a change !' Such was Stornello's
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS. 229 
 
 greeting, scarcely quite a judicious one. ' Days I 
 have been waiting to see you, but that duenna of 
 yours ' — with a glance round to see that they were 
 alone — ' is worse than a Cerberus. If I ever have a 
 pretty wife I will appoint that nurse to be house- 
 keeper.' 
 
 ' The doctors ordered me to keep quiet,' said 
 Konald. 
 
 ' Ah, yes ! I know, poverino. When they once 
 obtain footing in a house^ they are like blackbeetles — 
 very difficult to get rid of But now, I hope, they 
 have done their worst, and soon you will be on your 
 legs again ! How pleased we shall be !' 
 
 ' I shall have to remain on the sofa at least three 
 weeks more, they say,' sighed poor Eonald. 
 
 ' Three weeks ? Impossible ! But what of that ? 
 Three weeks are nothing, if you can have friends to 
 talk to you, and cheer you, and tell you what they 
 are saying in Portino.'
 
 :3o THEY WILL TALK, YOU KNOW. 
 
 'What are they saying in Portino ? That is just 
 what I want to know, Marco,' said Honald. 
 
 ' That you are a hero, that Delia Rocca is a 
 coward, and that the signorina is a very happy woman. 
 That is what they say, caoissimo, and they are 
 right; 
 
 * How did they find out that it concerned Miss. 
 Woodall ?' asked Ronald. 
 
 Stornello blushed violently, remembering his cross- 
 examination at Mrs. Lascelles' hands. 
 
 ' A little bird !' he answered, shrugging his shoulders. 
 * What would you ? These things are found out 
 somehow, however discreet one may be. Remember, 
 there were many present under the portico of the 
 Palazzo Donati.' 
 
 ' So there were,' assented Ronald. 
 
 ' And,' Stornello proceeded, gaining courage as he 
 saw that his friend did not suspect him, ' they will 
 talk, you know. There were comparative strangers
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS. 231 
 
 amongst them — people who had no special reason for 
 silence.' 
 
 ' It is very annoying !' exclaimed Ronald. 
 
 ' Annoying ! How ?' asked the Italian. Why it is 
 a blessing from heaven, since, caro mio, you are not 
 killed, for which all the saints be thanked.' 
 
 ' I do not think it is a blessing that a young lady 
 should be talked about by all the fools in Portino,' 
 growled the invalid. 
 
 ' Why not, as you are going to marry her ? It is 
 quite dramatic ! Of course you would not wish the 
 signorina to be talked about in connection with -any- 
 one else ! But with you it is different, being about to 
 become her husband.' 
 
 ' But I am not, Marco. It is a mistake !' 
 
 ' How, a mistake ?' exclaimed Stornello, quite sur- 
 prised. ' Surely she is pleased and accepts such a 
 husband as you with delight ? — or is it the vecchio 
 who objects ?'
 
 232 DELICATELY, DIPLOMATICALLY. 
 
 ' No/ answered Ronald quietly ; 'it is my own 
 fault. I have not asked her.' 
 
 ' Oh ! on account of your dreadful wound. Povero, 
 of course you could not ask her formally. But it is 
 understood. The Signore papa has arranged matters, 
 no doubt ?' 
 
 ' Nothing is arranged. I cannot make up my mind. 
 Listen, Stornello ; I want your advice !' 
 
 ' With the greatest pleasure, Rinaldo. Ha ! I com- 
 prehend. There is some little affair to settle first; 
 some pretty contadina, perhaps? Oh, Rinaldo, I 
 thought you were a serious man. Fie ! But com- 
 mand me — I am at your service. And I flatter 
 myself that I can conduct such a negotiation deli- 
 cately, diplomatically. Do you want money ? I have 
 plenty just now ; the rents have come in.' 
 
 ' Do stop, old man ! don't hurry on so,' said Ronald, 
 interrupting the Italian's voluble flow of words. ' I 
 thank you from my heart, for I know you have no
 
 RONALD ASKS (2UESTI0NS. 233 
 
 more money than you want, and your offers of help 
 *are more valuable even than money/ 
 
 ' Pooh !' again mterrupted Stornello, ' fra amici * 
 
 ' But there is nothing of the sort. What I meant to 
 ask you is simply whether you think I am in love with 
 Miss Woodall ?' 
 
 The Italian stared at him in astonishment. Ronald 
 repeated the question. 
 
 ' In love !' gasped he at last. ' Why certo, certissmio ! 
 How could it be otherwise ? Is she not most graceful 
 and charming ? Rinaldo mio, your wound must have 
 affected you. You have fever.' 
 
 ' Not at all/ said Ronald. ' What I cannot decide 
 is whether I love her enough to marry her !' 
 
 This was too much for Stornello. He burst into a 
 roar of laughter. 
 
 ' Capital !' he cried. ' Excellent ! Here is a young 
 man who is generally rather cool and Jlegmatico, but 
 catches fire because a handsome Marchese dances
 
 234 YOU BURN! 
 
 twice, thrice, with Signorina Edith. He knows her 
 well himself; he dances with her many times. He 
 eclipses the Marchese, and then fights him. And he 
 asks me whether he loves her enough to marry her ! 
 Why, caro mio, you are not in love like 7ioi altri. We 
 first singe our hair a little ; our hearts are perhaps 
 touched. But you burn ! The flames consume you ; 
 and as to your heart, why,' and here Stornello placed 
 his hand on his waistcoat^ ' it is all gone — all at the 
 Palazzo Woodall !' 
 
 ' You really think so ?' asked Eonald doubtfully. 
 * Your judgment is not formed merely by the circum- 
 stances of that night ?' 
 
 ' No !' exclaimed Stornello. ' I have seen it coming ; 
 we have all seen it coming ever since you last returned 
 from England. A blind man could see it. Both of 
 the signori papas must have seen it, and they wagged 
 their old heads and smiled approvingly. Look at the 
 hancliieve now !'
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS. 235 
 
 And Stornello, who Avas like most Italians a born 
 mimic, cleverly ' made up ' his face to resemble Mr. 
 AVoodall removing his spectacles and smiling blandly. 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Lascelles 
 came in. 
 
 * Forgive me. Count Stornello,' she said, ' for in- 
 terrupting you.' 
 
 The young man greeted her courteously and almost 
 affectionately, for he was very fond of the good matron, 
 and she had taken him into her heart when she noticed 
 the frequency of his visits and his anxious inquiries 
 about Ronald. But her liking for him did not prevent 
 her doing her duty. 
 
 ' You have been half an hour talking, and Ronald 
 is not allowed to excite himself for fear of a return of 
 the fever. I must turn you out, but,' she added, with 
 a smile, ' you may come to-morrow, if you like. He 
 will be glad to see you.' 
 
 ' Indeed I shall,' said the invalid.
 
 236 DONATI TOO. 
 
 And Stornello, kissing him on both, cheeks, bid 
 them good-bye. 
 
 The visit was disturbing in its effects. Kohald 
 could think only of the subject discussed, and these 
 thoughts did not conduce to rest. Everybody thought 
 he was in love with Edith, and his best friends laughed 
 at the notion that he did not care for her enough to 
 marry her. They must be right after all. The friend- 
 ship, the true affection, he felt for the girl "must be 
 love. It was not quite what he expected love to be, 
 but evidently he had been mistaken. It could be 
 nothing else. Stornello had no interest in the matter 
 except Konald's own; Stornello had been with him 
 constantly during the past months. He had been per- 
 fectly open and frank with the young Italian, who, as 
 an outsider, would see most of the game. Stornello 
 was sure that there was love — ^not ordinary love, but a 
 violent passion. 
 
 Donati too — though Donati, being a mere boy, could
 
 RONALD ASKS QUESTIONS. 237 
 
 not be expected to know much — expressed the same 
 opinion. And his wise mother entertained no doubts 
 whfttever. Certainly then it must be true, and his 
 misgivings were exaggerated and absurd. 
 
 She was really a most delightful girl, and he could 
 find no fault with her, except that there floated before 
 him a vision of deep-black eyes, a short nose, and a 
 small mouth with full red lips, which were not Edith's. 
 Did real lovers ever consider their mistress's nose and 
 eyes and lips anything but perfection ? Edith's nose 
 was too long, undoubtedly, and her cheek-bones pro- 
 jected too much. Surely that was not a lover's stand; 
 point ! If he really loved her, could he criticise her 
 nose and her cheek-bones ? 
 
 Well, there were certainly many men in love with 
 much uglier women, who had much longer noses and 
 higher cheek-bones. liid these men, he wondered, 
 ever notice their wives' faults ? Surely they must. 
 They could not be quite blind. If they looked at a
 
 238 A JEWELLED HAND. 
 
 statue, tliey must perceive that the faces of then- lady- 
 loves did not come up to the ideal. That was no 
 reason for not loving a woman ! If only ideally 
 beautiful women obtained husbands, what a sad thing 
 it would be for the human race ! It must be all non- 
 sense ; and how could he expect to find a classical 
 beauty? And over this nonsense, a companion of 
 sense, he at last fell asleep. And he was visited by 
 a dream of a beautiful creature, of imposing figure and 
 rich colour, who seemed instinct with Italian warmth 
 and sunshine. She stretched out a jewelled hand to 
 him, and he clasped it, and awoke. But nevertheless 
 Stornello had woven another mesh in the net — very 
 nearly the last.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CONSUL'S OPINION. 
 
 Mr. Lascelles had always been a good father to his 
 children, and they loved him dearly. They could 
 scarcely remember a harsh word from him ; and even 
 in Ronald's boyish days, when he had played some 
 tricks which deserved a birching, Mr. Lascelles had. 
 only reproached gently. Thus, his children loved him 
 more than they feared him, and it was not surprising 
 that the stronger will of his wife reduced him to- a 
 secondary position at home. He was perfectly satisfied 
 with it. She had governed the household with a 
 firm and judicious rule from the first day that she 
 took charge of the then tiny establishment. She had
 
 240 A RULER OF THE HOUSE. 
 
 made small means go far even for Italy, and had 
 brought up their children admirably. 
 
 During the disturbed political and social times 
 of our story Mr. Lascelles had, of course, been much 
 absorbed by his duties, and by the responsibilities he 
 was obliged to assume. Once he had been for several 
 months the only representative of England in that 
 portion of Italy, for there was no Government ta 
 which an envoy could be accredited, and the other 
 towns only possessed native Vice-consuls. So it 
 happened that at the critical period of his two elder 
 children's lives their father was too busy to be con- 
 sulted by them, too much absorbed to give advice^ 
 often even too anxious to listen to them. Hence both 
 Clara and Ronald had come to regard their mother as 
 the ruler and chief of the family. Even when things 
 had to be done which only a father could do, Mrs. 
 Lascelles undertook them. She placed papers to sign 
 before her husband, drafted letters for him, and
 
 THE CONSULS OPINION. 241 
 
 carried out everything except the more forraal work. 
 It was she to whom George Stent had explained his 
 intentions as to Clara's marriage settlement, and it was 
 she who had instructed the lawyers, always, however, 
 careful to keep up her husband^s prestige by such 
 phrases as : ' Mr. Lascelles wishes me to tell you,' or 
 ' I will ask Mr. Lascelles what he thinks.' 
 
 To talk matters over with his father was therefore 
 an unusual idea for Ronald. Hitherto he had never 
 talked matters over with his father. He had discussed 
 them with his mother, and when a decision requiring Mr. 
 Lascelles's co-operation was arrived at, it was carried 
 out as a matter of course without more ado. But 
 when he woke on the morning after Stornello's visit, 
 and lay on his bed waiting for the nurse to dress his 
 wound, which was still occasionally painful, he decided 
 to have a talk with Mr. Lascelles. There was a faint 
 idea lingering in his breast that his father might not 
 share the general opinion, and would take up the viev/ 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 GET WELL, MY BOY. 
 
 that he ought not, under the circumstances, to propose 
 to Edith. Every one to whom he had yet spoken 
 seemed to consider him as necessarily engaged to her, or 
 about to be ; and to everyone it appeared so proper, 
 so natural, in fact so inevitable, that, as has already 
 been seen, Ronald had very nearly overcome his 
 scruples and adopted the same opinion. But there 
 was still a chance that his father might disapprove, 
 and, if so, he would, as a dutiful son, follow his father's 
 advice. So when Mr. Lascelles came to inquire after 
 him as usual, he asked whether the Consul could 
 spare a quarter of an hour from the office, and begged 
 Teresina to leave them alone together, which she did 
 with a slight pout on her pretty lips. 
 
 ' Now that I must resign Somerset House, father, 
 thanks to George's clumsiness, do you see anything 
 for me to do ?' 
 
 ' Get well as fast as you can, my boy,' answered Mr. 
 Lascelles.
 
 THE CONSUL'S OPINION. . 243 
 
 ' But afterwards ?' 
 
 * Don't worry about afterwards. You must get strong 
 before we need think about anything else.' 
 
 ' I am improving so much, father, that I shall be 
 about in a very few weeks. It is high time to think 
 of what I am to try next ; it is no use my hanging 
 about here, you know.' 
 
 ' You might help me in the Consulate,' said Mr. 
 Lascelles, ' and of course they Avould appoint you un- 
 paid vice-consul directly. Then, when I retire you 
 would probably get the place.' 
 
 Ronald made a grimace. The prospect of being 
 unpaid vice-consul at Portino for eight or ten years 
 was not particularly attractive, and his father, as he 
 knew, could not afford to retire in less time. 
 
 ' I am afraid that is not a very bright look-out, 
 father,' he said, ' because I should be many years with- 
 out earning anything, and you know you cannot afford 
 to keep me.' 
 
 16—2
 
 244 SHE WOULD BE DISAPPOINTED. 
 
 ' Oh, we could manage well enough if you lived at 
 home,' said Mr. Lascelles. 
 
 The Consul evidently did not wish to broach the 
 subject of his son's love affairs. His wife had warned 
 him ' that he would spoil all.' So Ronald had to start 
 upon it himself. 
 
 ' Do you think I ought to propose to Edith Woodall, 
 father ?' he asked abruptly. 
 
 Mr. Lascelles looked surprised. 
 
 * Ought ? what do you mean, my boy ? I thought 
 you wished to do so. I understood you were fond of 
 her.' 
 
 ' Never mind that for the present, father. Do you 
 think there is any necessity for my proposing to her 
 on account of this stupid duel, you know, and all the 
 talk in the place ?' 
 
 ' I think she would be much disappointed if you did 
 not speak/ answered Mr. Lascelles, smiling. 
 
 * But not otherwise compromised ?' inquired Ronald.
 
 THE CONSUL'S OPINION. 245 
 
 ' No, certainly not,' replied the Consul. ' She has 
 behaved very well, and there is nothing to compromise 
 her at present except a little idle gossip, which would 
 soon wear ofE But why do you ask such questions, 
 Ronald ? Surely you are not afraid of being re- 
 jected ?' 
 
 * No, father ; but I am puzzled about two questions. 
 The first is, whether I love her sufficiently to make 
 her as good a husband as she deserves ' 
 
 * That you are the only person to judge of,' inter- 
 rupted Mr. Lascelles. ' 1 can't tell you. I should 
 have thought it very easy to make up your mind 
 about it.' 
 
 ' It is not so easy as you think, father.' 
 ' Well, I never had any doubts about your mother, 
 Ronald. I was afraid she would not have me, but I 
 never feared that I should not be a good husband to 
 her ! What a fanciful idea ! If you like the girl, and 
 if she loves you, which your mother tells me is the
 
 246 IS IT FAIR 
 
 case, why of course you will make her the best 
 husband she can have ! Surely that is a matter for 
 her to have doubts about, not you ! What a queer 
 lot you young fellows are, with your hesitations and 
 uncertainties !' 
 
 ' Perhaps we are,' said Ronald. 
 
 ' Why, in my young days, if a fellow liked a girl, he 
 asked her to marry him, and never bothered his head 
 as to whether he was sufficiently in love with her to 
 make her a good husband ; and I don't think mar- 
 riages turned out worse than they do now.' 
 
 * Well, father, let us put that aside for a moment. 
 I like Miss Woodall very much ' 
 
 ' You could not have chosen better, my boy,' inter- 
 rupted Mr. Lascelles. ' I have known her ever since 
 she was in long clothes, and I have known her father 
 almost since we were boys together.' 
 
 That brings me to the second question,' said 
 Ronald. ' Is it fair, do you think, for me to propose
 
 THE CONSUL'S OPINION. 247 
 
 to a girl in such a good position, and considering that 
 I have nothing at all ?' 
 
 ' Well, of course she is well off/ replied Mr. Lascelles. 
 ' She has some money of her own from her mother. I 
 was one of the executors, so I know all about that. 
 And Woodall is sure to do something handsome for 
 her. There are only two children, and the boy is quite 
 a little fellow yet' 
 
 ' That is just the difficulty. Will it not look as if I 
 were marrying the girl for her money ?' 
 
 'Nobody will say that of my son,' answered Mr. 
 Lascelles proudly. * The Lascelles are a much older 
 family than the Woodalls. He is the best fellow in 
 the- world, and one of my oldest friends ; but between 
 you and me, Ronald, I don't believe he has a grand- 
 father.' 
 
 * Not now, I dare say,' said Ronald, smiling, * Why, 
 he is at least fifty. But no doubt he had a grandfather 
 some time or other.'
 
 248 / HA VE NOTHING. 
 
 * Quite a nonentity, then — a man no one ever heard 
 of. Probably a grocer in the City. Now you, Ronald, 
 have ancestors to be proud of. Admiral Sir Ronald 
 Lascelles burnt the French fleet at * 
 
 'Oh yes, father, I know all about Admiral Sir 
 Ronald, and General Lascelles who was Governor of 
 Virginia under George I., and all that. But people 
 really do not attach much weight to an historical name 
 nowadays, unless there is a handle to it, or money as well.* 
 
 ' I am afraid not, Ronald,' assented the Consul. 
 
 ' Then, as a matter of fact, and looking at it calmly 
 and impartially, what have I to offer in exchange for 
 Miss Woodall's money and the position her father 
 might make for me ? It is no use pretending. I 
 don't want to deceive myself : I have nothing at all 
 to offer — neither a title, nor position, nor money, nor 
 talents.' 
 
 ' Plenty of talent, my boy,' said Mr. Lascelles, ' Do 
 not make yourself out too cheap.'
 
 THE CONSUL'S OPINION. 249 
 
 ' No, father ; that is not my way. I am generally 
 bumptious enough. But somehow I have not 
 fancied myself quite so much lately as I used 
 to.' 
 
 ' So it seems/ observed the Consul, with a little 
 touch of sarcasm. 
 
 ' And,' continued the young man, ' though I believe 
 I have a certain amount of brains, they have wasted 
 dreadfully in that wretched office. If I had hammered 
 away at writing for the papers, or plays, or poetry, 
 like some of the fellows did, I might have acquired 
 some sort of reputation. But I wasted the time 
 sadly.' 
 
 ' Do you really mean that because the girl you love 
 has money, and you have none at present, you will 
 give her up ?' asked Mr. Lascelles. 
 
 ' I think I ought, as a gentleman,' said Eonald. 
 * Besides, I have told you that I am not so sure about 
 loving her.'
 
 250 A SORT OF HERO. 
 
 ' That is all fudge !' exclaimed his father almost 
 impatiently. ' If anyone is to be judged by his con- 
 duct, you are very much in love with her indeed. 
 The other question is far more serious. You are quite 
 right to consult me about it, because it is one of those 
 questions in which women cannot as a rule give a 
 reliable opinion, however clever they may be. But 
 I am pretty well certain that you need have no 
 scruples.' 
 
 * Why, father ?' 
 
 ' Because the girl is, I believe, much attached to 
 you. You have not intrigued nor sneaked to gain her 
 affection ' 
 
 ' No, indeed !' exclaimed Ronald. 
 
 * Exactly. Circumstances have brought it about 
 that you have become a sort of hero in the place, 
 which, by-the-by, is more than you deserve for having 
 been such a young donkey,' said Mr. Lascelles good- 
 humouredly. ' That Italian might just as well have
 
 THE CONSUL'S OPINION. 251 
 
 killed you altogether. But nobody supposes, nobody 
 can suppose, that the duel was part of a premeditated 
 plan.' 
 
 ' Of course not/ assented the young man. 
 
 ' Well, your mother tells me that Miss Woodall is 
 thoroughly in love with you, and will accept you at 
 once if you propose.' 
 
 ' I am not so sure of that,' remarked Konald. 
 
 ' If she refuses you, there is an end of the matter,' 
 Mr. Lascelles went on. ' Then, of course, we must 
 take measures to find you something to do, and 
 the sooner you get away from here the better. But 
 I think your mother is right ; she generally is.' 
 
 ' Yes, father.' 
 
 ' And I believe that Woodall would not mind a bit. 
 On the contrary, I think he would sooner give his 
 daughter to you than to anyone else.' 
 
 * You are very sanguine, father dear, and you think 
 too well of me.'
 
 252 YOUR MOTHER THINKS SO. 
 
 ' No, my boy ; but I know Woodall. He does not 
 like the Italians, and as Edith has kept house for him 
 here since his wife's death, she has, of course, not 
 seen much of English society. She has not made the 
 acquaintance of any very eligible young men. So you 
 have a very fair field and practically no competitors 
 at present.' 
 
 ' That is all quite true,' assented Ronald. 
 
 ' Then, if the father likes you, and sees no objection 
 in your having neither money nor position, and if the 
 daughter likes you, and will be wretched if you don't 
 propose ' 
 
 ' Oh ! she is not so far gone as that,' interrupted the 
 young man.* 
 
 ' Your mother thinks so,' retorted the Consul ; ' and 
 she is generally right. Of course, however, she may 
 be mistaken. In that case, as I said before, no harm 
 is done, and you will go away, as you would probably 
 do under other circumstances, as soon as you are well.'
 
 THE CONSULS OPINION. 253 
 
 ' Certainly,' answered Ronald. * It is no use stop- 
 ping here doing nothing.' 
 
 'Precisely. Now let me finish what I was going 
 to say. If father and daughter both like you, he 
 moderately and she very much indeed, and if they 
 don't mind your being penniless, why the deuce should 
 you worry about it, eh ?' 
 
 * It does seem rather absurd,' said Ronald. 
 
 ' It is absurd. Make up your mind, my boy. You 
 won't do better, I can tell you. We should all be 
 pleased; and think how happy your mother would 
 be. But now I must really get down to the Cofi- 
 sulate.' 
 
 This was the last mesh in the net. Mr. Lascelles 
 had taken much more time and trouble to discuss 
 the matter than his son had expected, and he had 
 argued it out fairly and sensibly, without any special 
 paternal bias. Ronald could not see any flaw in the 
 reasoning. There was certainly a vast difference
 
 254 BEING AN IDOL. 
 
 between an ordinary fortune-hunter and a young man 
 of good name but small means, who happened to 
 please a wealthy young lady and her father. No one 
 could possibly accuse him of having tried to win 
 Edith for her money's sake. As Stornello and Donati 
 had told him, the feeling was all the other way, and 
 people thought that Edith was lucky to get such a 
 hero for a husband. 
 
 Ronald knew very well in his heart that he was not 
 a hero, and before the visits he had received he had 
 had no notion of being considered one. But when a 
 man is exposed to continuous subtle flattery for 
 several days consecutively, he is rather apt to forget 
 his own intimate convictions, and to estimate himself 
 at the high value set on him by his friends. It was 
 not an unpleasant feeling, and though the idol might 
 know that he was but clay, it was decidedly nice to 
 be placed on a pedestal and worshipped, and assured 
 that he was all pure gold.
 
 ^THE CONSUL'S OPINION. 255 
 
 That he was in love with Edith he now supposed 
 must be true, for everybody said he was ; that she 
 was in love with him he concluded to be probable, as 
 he trusted his mother's judgment implicitly on this 
 subject ; that Mr. Woodall would accept him as a 
 son-in-law also appeared likely, from what his father 
 and Stornello had told him. And as all Portino 
 thought him a hero, perhaps after all he was heroic 
 without knowing it. St. Clair, and Egerton Paull, 
 and a dozen other men, would have done just the 
 same, he thought. Perhaps they were all heroes, 
 only that they had not been so lucky as himself in 
 having opportunities of proving it.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A CHARADE. 
 
 When Mrs. Lascelles found her son in a pliable state 
 of mind, she lost no time in making use of it. 
 Towards the middle of May many families annually 
 left Portino for the hills. It was now already April, 
 so there were not many weeks to waste. Ronald was 
 progressing very well, but it would be some time 
 before he could walk. He could not yet be lifted 
 into a carriage and driven to the Palazzo Woodall to 
 make his proposal. Nor, on the other hand, could 
 she invite Edith to come to his sofa and be 
 proposed to. 
 
 Her ingenuity was, however, quite equal to the
 
 A CHARADE. 257 
 
 emergency. She sallied forth one fine day very soon 
 after the conversation between father and son (which, 
 of course, had been reported to her in precis form) to 
 see her dear friend Edith, whose numerous visits of 
 inquiry she had not yet rewarded by a single call. 
 The girl was at home, and Mrs. Lascelles was at once 
 shown into her sitting-room, where she was practising 
 industriously on the piano. At the sight of her 
 visitor Edith started up, and, turning pale, ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 ' He is not worse, is he V 
 
 Mrs. Lascelles smiled, and kissed her affectionately. 
 
 ' No, dear ; thank God, he is really quite well, only 
 he is not allowed to use his leg at all, and, of course, 
 he cannot leave the sofa at present.' 
 
 ' Oh, I am so glad !' said Edith, her colour return- 
 ing. ' Do sit down, Mrs. Lascelles. How good of 
 you to come and see me !' 
 
 ' I have come to consult you, dear.' 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 HE IS WONDERFULLY GOOD. 
 
 ' Yes ? About what V 
 
 ' About Ronald.' Edith blushed again. ' You see, 
 he is dreadfully dull. So would any young man be, 
 confined to a couch all day, and not able even to 
 fetch a book for himself.' 
 
 ' Of course,' assented Edith ; ' it must be dreadful 
 for him.' 
 
 ' Yes,' continued Mrs. Lascelles. ' Some of his 
 friends come to see him occasionally, and Teresina 
 and I do our best to amuse him ; but he is dull all 
 the same, and the doctors say that his spirits 
 ought to be kept up. He is so used to activity, you 
 know ! When he is in good health he is always 
 playing cricket, or sailing, or rowing, and it is very 
 hard for him to be mewed up in two rooms.' 
 
 ' Very hard indeed,' said the girl ; ' I wonder he 
 bears it patiently.' 
 
 'Oh, he is wonderfully good and patient!' ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Lascelles, intent on praising up her man.
 
 A CHARADE. 259 
 
 ' Men are generally so tiresome when tliey are ill, 
 always fidgeting and grumbling. Now Ronald is as 
 gentle and good-tempered as an angel. But he is 
 very dull, all the same. He wants a little amuse- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' What do you propose to do, Mrs. Lascelles ? How 
 can I help you ? I wish I could. I would do any- 
 thing in my power for you.' 
 
 Edith was careful to offer her help to the mother, 
 for the mother's sake. A month ago she would have 
 said frankly that she would do anything in her power 
 to help Ronald. But love teaches girls caution. 
 
 'I am sure you would, dear,' said Mrs. Lascelles, 
 again kissing her. ' That is why I have come to you. 
 Now this is what I propose : You know we have a 
 boudoir behind the drawing-room — the little room 
 looking on the courtyard ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Miss Woodall ; ' well ?' 
 
 * Well, we hardly ever use the room, though it is 
 
 17—2
 
 i6o HOW CRUEL/ 
 
 separated from the drawing-room only by folding 
 doors. Mr. Lascelles had them nailed up and covered 
 with a curtain, because he thought they made the 
 place draughty. But of course, now the fine weather 
 has come, they could be opened again easily.' 
 
 ' I know the place,' said Edith ; ' we used to act 
 charades there when we were children.' 
 
 ' Exactly, replied Mrs. Lascelles. ' Now, Ronald 
 wants a little amusement, you know, and I thought it 
 would be such a capital idea if we got up a little 
 charade again. Just a trifle to cheer him up, you 
 know, and divert his thoughts, for the poor fellow has 
 lost his berth in Somerset House.' 
 
 ' Lost it !' exclaimed Edith. ' How ?' 
 
 ' On account of his illness, dear. He was obliged 
 to ask for two months' more leave, and they w^ould 
 not give it him.' 
 
 'Why not? How cruel!' 
 
 ' It ivas unkind. Some wretched gossip told his
 
 A CHARADE. 261 
 
 chief the reason of Ronald's illness, and it seems they 
 disapprove of duels very strongly.' 
 
 ' Then he was punished for his hravery V said Edith. 
 ' Oh dear, how dreadful !' 
 
 ' That is over now, my dear, and it is no use lament- 
 ing,' said Mrs. Lascelles, who saw by Edith's disturbed 
 face that her shot had hit the mark. ' What we must 
 do is to try and amuse the dear boy, and get him to 
 forget his trouble. Unless he does, he will be a long 
 time getting better. At least that is what Salviati 
 thinks.' 
 
 Dr. Salviati may have thought it, but he certainly 
 had not said so. The patient was prohibited from 
 moving his leg at all, and had to adhere to an invalid 
 diet. Beyond this, and a general order not to excite 
 himself, the doctor's instructions did not go. There 
 was now no longer the slightest fear of fever. 
 
 ' I shall be very glad to do what I can,' said Edith, 
 * but people will be going away soon.'
 
 262 / SHOULD BE TOO NERVOUS. 
 
 'Oh! I am thinking only of quite a simple little 
 charade, something that you and Teresina, and your 
 brother Charley, and perhaps young Donati, might get 
 up between you. We should only just ask a few inti- 
 mate friends. Charley will be back soon, will he 
 not V 
 
 ' We expect him to-morrow. Good Friday,' answered 
 Edith. ' His holidays will last about three weeks, 
 but he will have to go away again on Tuesday 
 fortnight.' 
 
 ' That suits exactly,' Mrs. Lascelles went on. ' We 
 should not want more than a week's preparation for 
 this sort of thing. The rehearsals and so on would 
 amuse Ronald. We could put him on his sofa in the 
 boudoir, with his little table by his side, and he would 
 enjoy the fun immensely, I know.' 
 
 ' I am afraid I could not act,' said Edith hesi- 
 tatingly ; ' I should be too nervous. I have not done 
 such a thing for years.'
 
 A CHARADE. 263 
 
 ' Nonsense, dear ! we could not get on without you 
 at all. You really must ! you know, you promised to 
 do what you could to help us.' 
 
 'But I did not expect this ; and I don't know 
 whether papa could spare me.' 
 
 Edith was, in truth, doubtful about the whole affair. 
 A flush of joy had come over her when the plan was 
 suggested ; as it would enable her to see Ronald, and 
 to convince herself that he was really getting well, 
 and to tell him how she repented her flirtation with 
 Delia Rocca, which had caused all his misfortune. 
 But then doubts had assailed her. Would she be 
 able to act at all ? Would it be proper to discuss the 
 duel with Ronald ? W^ould her father allow her 
 to go ? Her cogitations were interrupted by Mrs. 
 Lascelles. 
 
 ' You must choose the piece, my dear, and arrange 
 it, and select the actors, and everything. And as to 
 your father, I will go at once and ask his leave. So
 
 264 GOING TO TRY A CHARADE. 
 
 that is settled. Now, good-bye ! Come round on 
 Saturday with Charley and we will have a talk 
 over it.' 
 
 Mr. Woodall was rather surprised when Mrs. Las- 
 celles's card was brought into his private room. For 
 a moment he thought that the lady came as an am- 
 bassador to negotiate an alliance for her son. He had 
 a great respect for her talents, and felt that he would 
 be at a decided disadvantage. When she came in and 
 said at once : ' You are astonished to see me at 
 the Bank, Mr. Woodall ! I have come to ask 
 a great favour,' he was more alarmed than ever. 
 He said : 
 
 ' Sit down, Mrs. Lascelles ! Very happy to oblige 
 you in any way I can. I hope your son is getting on 
 nicely !' But he did not feel happy, and did not 
 look it. 
 
 * He is very dull,' replied Mrs. Lascelles. ' Teresina 
 is going to try a little charade to amuse her brother —
 
 A CHARADE. 265 
 
 quite a children's thing, you know. I want you to let 
 Edith and Charley help her/ 
 
 Mr. Woodall breathed again. Not because he had 
 felt any hostility to the proposal he had expected, but 
 because he did not like the idea of discussing it with 
 so superior a woman as Mrs. Lascelles, and thought 
 she would certainly obtain from him promises and 
 concessions for which he might be sorry afterwards. 
 The banker was so pleased at being let off this time 
 that he raised no objection whatever, and willingly 
 gave his children leave to attend rehearsals as often 
 as Mrs. Lascelles liked. The latter sent a triumphant 
 note to Edith, who meanwhile had been dwelling in 
 agony of mind on the information imparted to her. 
 Her self-reproaches had been bitter enough before, for 
 she had blamed her flippancy and flirtation with Delia 
 Rocca as the cause of Ronald's serious wound; but 
 now they were much worse. For she had also been 
 the cause of his losing his position in Somerset House.
 
 266 A MISERABLE FOUR HUNDRED. 
 
 She did not exactly know what the appointment was 
 worth, but the ' Civil Service ' sounds well, and she 
 thought it might have led to something grand and 
 worthy of Ronald. 
 
 Now his years of hard, tedious work and his pro- 
 spects were all gone, and lost through her fault ! How 
 could Mrs. Lascelles be so good to her ? If she only 
 knew all, she would not even speak to the wicked 
 cause of her son's misfortunes. And they were quite 
 beyond her power to remedy. She, poor girl, could do 
 nothing to make Ronald amends. She could not 
 compensate him for the years wasted and the hopes 
 dashed to the ground. Then a sudden thought 
 flashed across her mind. Money ! of course she had 
 money. Her mother had left her ten thousand 
 pounds ! Could she contrive to give it to him with- 
 out being found out ? A miserable four hundred a 
 year would of course not half make up for Ronald's 
 suffering and disappointments, but it would help to
 
 A CHARADE. 267 
 
 make his life bearable, and to prevent his cursing 
 her too deeply. But how should she manage ? Her 
 father and Mr. Lascelles were the trustees, and she 
 believed that she could not deal with the capital 
 without their consent, which of course they would 
 not give. But she might send him the interest every 
 half-year anonymously, and let him know that he 
 might always reckon on it. For poor Edith now no 
 longer dared to think of the possibility which, a few 
 weeks before, had made her tell her first falsehood. 
 Of course, Ronald must hate her ; he could not do 
 otherwise. He would detest the very sight of her, 
 and it would, she thought, be a sore trial to him 
 that she should come to the Consulate to help in the 
 charade. But she was determined to drink her 
 bitter cup to its very dregs. 
 
 She would tell him how deeply she repented the 
 thoughtlessness which had had such grave conse- 
 quences, and she would beg his forgiveness. He
 
 268 IVE WILL ALL CONSULT. 
 
 might be hard, and might not pardon her at once, but 
 at some future time, when he had got a good appoint- 
 ment, he would think better of her for having told 
 him frankly and humbly of her great sorrow. 
 
 When Charley Woodall arrived at Portino he was 
 delighted with the prospect of fun held out to him. 
 All Saturday he and his sister, with Teresina, were 
 rummaging among old books, trying to find an appro- 
 priate charade, or some little comedy which might be 
 cut down to the required dimensions. By the evening 
 they had discovered about a dozen that might do, if 
 altered and pruned, but not one which was absolutely 
 and certainly the right one. 
 
 Teresina proposed to take them home and let 
 Ronald look at them. ' You and Charley come in 
 after dinner,' she said, ' and then we will all consult 
 with mamma and Ronald. He is very clever about 
 such things.' 
 
 Edith only half consented. She might be willing
 
 A CHARADE. 269 
 
 to come and rehearse, but she would not make herself 
 quite at home at the Consulate by walking in at all 
 hours. She pleaded that Mrs. Lascelles might not 
 like it, that probably Ronald should not be disturbed, 
 and so on. But as soon as Teresina showed her 
 bundle of little books to her mother, and reported 
 Edith's hesitation, old Luisa was sent off with a 
 pressing note which admitted of no refusal. 
 
 At eight o'clock Charley and Edith appeared in 
 the drawing-room at the Consulate. Both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lascelles Avere present, and the latter had been 
 careful not to make the young girl uncomfortable. 
 Ronald was still upstairs, on a sofa in his father's 
 study, which had been appropriated entirely to his 
 own use. Young Donati was with him. So, after a 
 short chat, which turned entirely on the merits of the 
 pieces suggested, Mrs. Lascelles took the young 
 people upstairs. 
 
 Before so many eyes Edith could do nothing but
 
 270 RONALD IS CIVIL. 
 
 shake hands with Ronald, and hope he was better. 
 It went hke a knife through her heart to feel how 
 thin and weak was that hand, which had pressed her 
 own with such warmth and strength when he handed 
 her into the carriage after the Donati's ball. The 
 room was not too brilliantly lighted — Ronald's sofa 
 was in the shadow. So she hoped that no one 
 noticed the deep blush she felt, in her endeavour to 
 make her greeting an ordinary one. 
 
 * Thank you so much for the roses ; they have 
 been very sweet to me.' This was all that Ronald 
 said. 
 
 ' How good of him !' she thought. ' He conceals 
 his aversion, and is quite civil, because all the family 
 are here.' 
 
 Then the plays were discussed, and Ronald listened 
 to the discussions and threw in a word now and then. 
 By-and-by he became quite interested, and showed 
 them how one piece would not do, because it required
 
 A CHARADE. 271 
 
 too many changes of scene, and another would be 
 unsuitable because they had not enough men. 
 Finally, he proposed adapting a short French 
 proverhe. 
 
 ' But who will translate it ?' asked Teresina. ' I 
 don't know French enough, and I'm not sufficiently 
 clever.' 
 
 ' If you will do the actual writing, Teresina, I will 
 dictate,' said Ronald. ' I can do it capitally from the 
 sofa.' 
 
 The idea was received with acclamation, and it was 
 decided that the work should begin on Monday 
 morning. But the distribution of parts required 
 some thought. In the proverbe there was a hero and 
 his mother, a heroine and her father, and a comic 
 valet. After much discussion, in which Edith scarcely 
 joined, it was decided that Donati should play the 
 hero, Edith the heroine, Teresina the hero's mother' 
 and Stornello the heroine's father, while little Charley
 
 272 NO MORE FLIRTING. 
 
 should take the valet. Probably the cast would 
 have been different if Edith had not objected strongly 
 to play heroine to Stornello as premier amoureux. 
 She would not be suspected of flirting again, even in 
 fun, and with Stornello there might possibly be some 
 notion of the sort. Donati was too young for any 
 such suspicion. Teresina herself volunteered to act 
 the old lady, which she was much more likely to do 
 well than the enamoured heroine. Girls of sixteen 
 cannot, as a rule, act young parts as well as very old 
 ones. The interval between sixteen and nineteen is 
 very small in some respects, enormous in others. 
 
 The party separated in good spirits late at night 
 Only Edith had been quiet and subdued. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 O^ 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PKINTERS, GUILDFORD.
 
 UNIVERSrTY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 084210696